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Roar a Giant Roar

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This story is No. 1 in the series "Not Lost, Just Turned Around". You may wish to read the series introduction first.

Summary: While throwing around the 'W' word, Giant!Dawn 'goes away'. The bigger problem is she left her clothes behind. Set season 8.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Anita Blake > Dawn-CenteredVampireCowFR13711,60156520,4061 Feb 1117 Mar 11Yes

Freak Out

A/N- Alright, alright. Back by popular demand, and because there's too much ice on the road to bother doing anything else, I bring you... continuation! I'm expecting one or two more short little sights into this verse before Dawn moves on to the next world. Enjoy.



"She's a giant."

"Oui, ma petite."

"She's a GIANT FUCKING GIANT!!!"

"That has been established, Anita." A third, rough, almost animalistic voice cut in. "Anymore gems of wisdom you wish to shower down on us?"

"We, we got to..." Anita gestured helplessly, for once at a loss as to how to proceed. If something threatened her, she shot it. She was Anita Blake, Executioner, and all around female bad-ass. She had killed immortals and mortal alike. But never something quite as big as a giant. Never had she faced something that could probably shrug off her bullets like they were mosquito bites. "We have to get rid of her!"

The door to the small meeting room opened and an elderly, but aged well, woman entered with a polite cough. "I've finished the examination of Mr. Bojangles. It appears that over half the bones in his body have been reduced to a fine powder," at that statement there was dark chuckling from the back. The gray haired woman glared in his direction to silence him. "It seems that the neck, skull, and a few key ribs have been left intact to ensure the protection of vital organs but other than that... well. He won't be getting up and running again. Ever."

"Très intéressant."

The dark haired necromancer's eyes widened as she turned to her lover. "You can't be serious! She's a giant! She's dangerous!"

Richard frowned at her, his displeasure like a living thing lapping at her heels. "She's a child."

"She's five stories tall! And you heard her yourself! She isn't a child, she isn't human, hell! She isn't even real! She's a big ball of magical power that just looks like a person!" The necromancer didn't notice how much cooler the small meeting room had suddenly gotten. "She is the Key. She admitted it. Do you know what that means? If she wanted to, she could kill us all! She could tear out the foundations of the world and send us all straight into oblivion!"

Richard just stared at her, and in memory of the affection they once shared Anita tried to will him to understand, but the Ulfric's gaze was cold. Unyielding. "She feels. She thinks. She was ripped out of her home, out of a fucking bath, and dumped here. And she hasn't hurt anyone. As you keep saying, she is a giant, she wouldn't need special 'Keyness' to kill us." His eyes bled to amber. "If you weren't so damn insecure about your height you would see that. You want her gone? Fine. Call up Marianne or some other witch and figure it out."



"Sooooo." Dawn drawled as she splashed around in the lake Mr. Fancy Pants, AKA Jean-Claude the sexy Frenchman of Hell-lite, had directed her to. It wasn't the ideal solution, but though she doubted they had a prison big enough to hold her, being arrested for indecent exposure was so not on her list of fun. "You think I'll be getting those clothes anytime soon? I'm starting to get kinda pruny."

There was a blonde werewolf, actually there were several but the blonde one in the tight pants was the only one that really talked to her, who shrugged where he relaxed against a big boulder. "Well, I don't know you've noticed but you are kind of..." He grinned cheekily and held his arms apart. Dawn huffed. "It's going to take a while to make something to fit you."

"I'm not completely useless." Dawn grumbled, and it was more like a low growl to the smaller beings. "Get me a few spare parachutes or something and I can make a really cute peasant top."

"You sew?"

"You don't?"

The two shared a moment of silence before the wolf opened his mouth again. While she didn't like being dragged buck-naked into random dimension 8472 at least it was warmer than Scotland. She hated Scotland. She hated Berkly and the relationship drama that awaited her upon return. Maybe being giant-napped was the universe's way of apologizing for all the crap it rained on her in the past? "Well, you being a special Key to the Worlds and all, wouldn't someone else do your sewing for you?"

Dawn shrugged, causing a small wave of water to splash at the wolf's perch and she laughed as he scrambled out of the way. "If I was a lazy-ass maybe." In her mind she thought of Buffy, who couldn't home-make her way out of an oven mitt. Thanksgiving and the potatoes of cement came to mind. "But it's like my grandfather always said: there are four things in life that everyone needs to be able to do. Sew, weld, cook, and shoot a gun. Except, well, Buffy -that's my sister- has this wicked thing against guns. Which I don't get, because I know she was shot, but this was way back before that. And it isn't like she hasn't killed plenty of guys with axes or swords or random chunks of sharp and pointy. It's not like the gun jumps up and decides to kill you... oh. Rambling... right. Anyway. If you give me the material I could throw something together for myself. No worries."

"I dunno." Smarmy blonde said as his eyes roved what little was exposed. "I kinda like you like that."

Dawn narrowed her considerable eyes and flicked at the surface of the lake. The wolf yelped as a veritable flood of water carried him off into the trees. "Ass." She grinned at the stifled laughter from the other wolves. Dawn sighed. She suddenly missed Oz.



The JCisms:
Oui, ma petite. - Yes, my little.
Très intéressant. - Very interesting.
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