Large PrintHandheldAudioRating
Twisting The Hellmouth Crossing Over Awards - Results
Rules for Challenges

The Fountain of Discontent, Part Two

StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking

Summary: The further adventures of Jon (Mini-Jack) O'Neill & Dawn Summers.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Stargate > Dawn-Centered > Pairing: Mini-JackLancerFourSevenFR21518,7471437,50919 Mar 1125 Apr 12No

NOTE: This story is rated FR21 which is above your chosen filter level. You can set your preferred maximum rating using the drop-down list in the top right corner of every page.

Scroll down if you still wish to read it.

Chapter One

The Fountain of Discontent, Part Two

By LancerFourSeven

Disclaimer: I’m playing on turf owned by Stargate SG-1 and Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Rating: FR21

Summary: The further adventures of Jon, (AKA Mini-Jack,) and Dawn

A/N: The Fountain of Discontent should be read first.


Chapter One

Jonathon O’Neill jogged across the athletic field, going around and behind the baseball bleachers, on his way home from the last class of the day. It was a perfect spring day in Colorado Springs: a light breeze from the mountains carried a hint of cool air, the sun was bright and warm, the snow from the last big storm of the season was just a memory, the vegetation had turned impossibly bright green, and the birds were chirping happily in the trees.

And best of all, he was going on a date with Dawn later on.

It was, he thought, a glorious day. Right up until someone stepped out from behind the refreshment stand and punched him in the gut.

“What the fuck!?” he tried to shout as he stumbled backwards, struggling to keep his balance and catch his breath. He identified his assailant as one Billy Bob Dyson, school athlete and bully. He ducked to let Billy’s left fist sail over his head and flashed out with his right foot to try and hook Billy’s left leg. In his head he could see Billy Bob flying awkwardly through the air to smash against the CMU wall of the refreshment stand; in reality he managed only to get Billy off-balance enough to leave him open for a retaliatory strike to the solar plexus, which staggered him. Jon ducked and drove forward, trying to put his head through Billy’s stomach. Billy couldn’t stay on his feet but managed a right to Jon’s neck on his way down but Jon managed to wrench himself free.

Billy was down but not out. Jon tried to follow up with a swift kick to the ribs but Billy Bob grabbed Jon’s foot and flung it upwards. Jon fell on his ass and as fast as he could spun around and grabbed Billy’s neck and tried to squeeze hard enough to make him unconscious. Bill Bob was having none of that, he punched Jon in the chest and tried to knee his crotch. They both let go, rolled back and leaped to their respective feet. They both tried to do it gracefully but failed as they were gasping in great gulps of air, both seeing red, trembling, trying to get the upper hand.

They leaped furiously towards each other, Jon trying for a fancy hold but achieving only a grab around the waist while Billy Bob tried for a high kick but missed completely. They both fell to the ground again, grappling each other, trying to get the upper hand. Another few seconds of scrabbling in the dirt and they broke apart to stand, even more out of breath than before.

Jon noticed Mr. Swaley, the coach, coming up behind Billy Bob. He punched Billy Bob in the gut once more and when the expected retaliatory strike came he collapsed to the ground – not entirely by choice. Billy Bob picked up a length of two by four and swung it at Jon’s back. Jon, seeing this out of the corner of his eye, scrambled frantically to the side. Mr. Swaley grabbed the two by four in one hand and Billy Bob by his collar with his other hand. Coach Swaley was a very large man, nearly as big as Teal’c, thought Jon.

“Billy Bob Dyson!” said the coach, “what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Uh, coach!” he gasped, “we were just having a friendly sparring match! Right Jonny boy?”

Jon was about to reply heatedly when he concluded it would suit his purposes better to play along . “Yeah coach,” he replied, “a sparring match. Although it did get a little out of control.”

The coach dropped the two by four and lifted Jon to his feet without letting go of Billy Bob. He glared. “Yeah, a sparring match,” he said sarcastically. “Okay, if that’s the way you want it. But I suggest you get the hell off school grounds. And Billy, if Jon here ends up unusually injured, I will point the police in your direction. A word to the wise, when you’re sparring, you don’t pick up a two by four and try to murder your opponent.”

Billy Bob had the sense to look a little ashamed. “Ah, I kinda lost my temper there, coach, when Jon got in a lucky punch.”

“Lucky punch!” Jon replied, “I had you cold!”

The coach said, “I’m gonna inspect the grounds, and I’ll be watching you two. Not just today either. If I ever see anything like this again, ever, I will call the police. I should now, but you’re lucky I don’t approve of this zero-tolerance crap. But I’ll tell you little hooligans something else, if any shit comes back on me, you two will be in a world of hurt.”

Jon and Billy watched as the coach walked purposefully away. Jon backed off far enough to assess the enemy. Billy looked at him with malevolence and said, “If you don’t get outta my fuckin’ way, I’ll kill you!” The effect was less than effective since Billy still hadn’t got his breath back.

Jon was glad to see that his practice sessions with Buffy was finally starting to have results – but the results weren’t anywhere near good enough. He couldn’t possibly go up against a Jaffa, for instance, but he didn’t expect to need to while still in High School. He was still irritated that it took so much effort just to hold his own against an untrained bully.

“Billy Bob,” he said, “if you do manage to beat me, you’ll still have to face my girlfriend.” He thought to himself, that’s not a completely new thing, is it?

Billy Bob’s expression darkened. Obviously he didn’t like either one of them. Jon wondered if he should to worry about this guy.


Dawn flung the door open and rushed in. “Jon!” she shouted, “you here? You about ready?”

He replied from the bathroom, “Just a minute!”

Dawn, never one to let inconvenient social niceties get in her way, pushed the bathroom door open. “Jeez Jon, what the hell happened to you?”

“Uh, nothin’ really. Just a little argument with Billy Bob.”

“That creep attacked you again! Come on, let’s go get him!”

“No, no. First of all, I pretty well held my own this time – at least I didn’t lose outright anyway. The last two weeks of intensive practice with Buffy has helped, although not nearly as fast as I had hoped...”

Dawn interrupted, “Buffy says you’re progressing incredibly fast.”

“Yeah, well, she doesn’t know my baseline. But I can at least defend myself against untrained bullies now, and that’s an improvement. But this time Billy and I were fighting, more or less evenly I think, when Coach Swaley discovered us. He wasn’t happy.”

“So did you explain that Billy Bob had been bullying us?”

“Of course not. We both said it was a little sparring match that got out of control.”

Dawn looked surprised. “What? Why would you say that?” After a pause she added, “Oh wait, it’s the stupid guy code, isn’t it? You can’t rat out even your worst enemies.”

“Well, I would have ignored that, but I really just figured that I should take care of this without interference from the authorities or any official notice of me.”

“Okay, I can see that. Here, let me help you with these scrapes and bruises.”

“Dawn, if you start rubbing my body, we’ll never make it to the movie.”

“Then we’ll go to a later show.”

Jon thought about that a moment. “Okay,” he said with a smile.

Dawn, looking pointedly at Jon’s bulging crotch, said, “Haven’t you been getting those hormone shots every day for a week now?”

“Yeah, but Dr. Fraiser says it may take another week for the shots to start showing results.”

“Oh. Well, let’s play then.” Dawn said with a smile as she unzipped and unbuttoned herself. She was naked in moments.

Jon dropped his towel, Dawn frowned and kneeled in front of him for a better look. “Is that angry red color normal?” she asked.

“No,” Jon sighed, “that’s just what happens when a guy has a climax every hour or so for a few months – whether with or without the help of a beautiful woman. You see why I need to get this fixed.”

“Does that mean we can’t have sex?”

“Not at all, if we don’t, I’ll come in my pants anyway. Or not in my pants if you’re gonna stand naked in my condo, which, by the way, may be the best reason I’ve ever seen to believe in a benevolent god.”

Dawn laughed, “You kidder. So should I gently massage some K-Y Jelly or maybe some sort moisturizing cream or something on your dick? It looks awfully sore.”

“Maybe later, for now a little gentle oral persuasion is all that’s needed to work wonders. And yes, I’ll be delighted to reciprocate.”

Dawn, looking up from her kneeling position, smiled beatifically and ducked her head.


Later, after finding the bathroom had too many hard surfaces to be really comfortable for sex, they retreated to Jon’s bed. And an hour later they ended up in the living room. An hour after that they finally calmed down enough to snuggle under a blanket to watch a movie.

Jon suggested, “How about Flyboys? It’s a WWII flick.”

“No way,” said Dawn, “not another movie about fighter pilots. Not unless it’s Top Gun, I wouldn’t mind a little eye candy.”

Jon grimaced. “No, god no, not Top Gun. That movie sucked.”

“Just because it was about the Navy instead of the Air Force is no reason to say it sucked.”

“It’s not that, or not just that,” argued Jon, “it’s just that the plot is stupid and half the fighter tactics are all wrong! If I did some of the things they suggested in that movie in a real fighter I’d be dead! It makes me want to puke.”

“Don’t hold back, tell me what you really think!”

“Let’s try this one: The High and the Mighty. It’s an old John Wayne flick about civilian airline pilots.”

“Gosh,” Dawn said, rolling her eyes, “that sounds so exciting.”

“Yeah, it’s not bad though. They got the flight details right, but again, Hollywood screenwriters just don’t seem to know much about writing stories because the plot was idiotic, in places anyway.”

“So let’s watch The Wire. Good writing, good plot, good actors.”

“You just want to stare dreamily at that guy that plays Stringer Bell.”

“Among others.”

“Well, I think I’m safe, I believe he’s married, so I guess you’re not gonna run off with him.”

“What about you? There’s some good looking women in The Wire too.”

“Not many, and none of them can hold a candle to the stunner right here in my living room, why would I look at anyone else?”

“Aren’t you’re sweet.”

“I try.”

They both snuggled under the blanket, DVDs forgotten.


Later that evening, at the dojo, Jon called for a time out. Buffy bounced back to allow him to catch his breath and drink a couple of glasses of water.

“Damn Buffy, how do you do it? I thought I was starting, finally, to get back into a sort of almost good athletic condition, but you make me feel like a weak little bunny rabbit. Look, you’re not even slightly out of breath, not a hair out of place, and no observable sweat. Meanwhile, I’m a mess, massive sweat soaked gym clothes, gasping for air, my muscles are nearly spent, I’m sore all over – ”

“Jon, it’s just gonna take some practice. And remember, I’ve been doing this everyday since I was fifteen. I’m at the peak of my physical conditioning, there are very few people in the world who can give me a challenge. So you have no reason to feel bad. You ready to get back at it?”

Jon put his glass down and said, “I guess.”

Dawn came in to watch. Ten minutes later Buffy called it a day and cast a knowing look at Dawn, whose eyes were locked on Jon’s butt like a fire-control radar until he disappeared into the men’s locker room.

“So Dawnie, you and Jon, huh?”


“You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”

“Yes, but I think I found a good one.”

“Do I need to give him the shovel speech?”

“God no, Buffy! You’ve already got him highly freaked out, you don’t need to add coals to the fire.”

“Yeah, but I worry. If you two get so serious that you start sleeping together...” Buffy trailed off as she took in Dawn’s expression. Too late, she thought. “So, you’re already doin’ it.”

Dawn looked a little embarrassed. “Yes. Do you want details?”

“God no! Are you practicing safe sex?”

Dawn found this question to be incredibly intrusive. “God Buffy, would you leave me alone?” And she ran out of the room.

Buffy stepped over to the punching bag and took out her frustrations by trying to punch it off the chains.


Back at Jon’s condo, still sitting fully clothed in the living room, Jon said, “Your sister really freaks me out.”

“Yeah, she has that effect on most people,” Dawn agreed.

“How does she do it? In my previous life – I mean, in the memories of that Colonel that I have access to – I’ve seen a lot of very accomplished fighters. Buffy seems to be in a class of her own.”

“Yeah. You’re just lucky she holds back with you,” Dawn said without thinking.

“What! She’s holding back? That can’t even be possible!” Jon was seriously amazed.

“Uh, forget I said that.”

“No, I won’t. Look, I really need training. I’ve got to get back into shape and training, and if she’s holding back then she’s holding me back.”

“Oh no, Jon. If she didn’t hold back you’d be dead.”

“How can that be? She’s still just a young woman – very accomplished to be sure,” he added hurriedly. “I have no intention of belittling her, she’s truly amazing, but still, she’s human, right?”

“Oh yes. But she’s capable of punching her fist through a ribcage and pulling out the heart. That’s why she has to hold back.”

“How do you know that?”

“Uh, I’ve seen her do it?”

“Oh come on, seriously? What were the circs?”

“I can’t tell you.” Dawn had no intention of mentioning that it was demon whose ribcage was even stronger than a human’s. And even less intention of mentioning how Buffy was a little crazy at the time. “The circumstances were classified, so, unless and until you’re read into the program, you’ll have to stifle your curiosity.”

“ARRRG!” said Jon.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, but I just can’t talk about it. Do you want to have sex? You seem to be ready.”


The next day, at four in the afternoon, Colonel O’Neill and Lt. Colonel Carter had exited the mountain on a rare day with little happening and were walking towards their respective vehicles when their attention was drawn to a classic Corvette being waved through the gate.

“Wow,” said O’Neill with lust in his eyes, “look at that! A 1965 Corvette Sting-Ray, white with a black convertible top! Just what I’ve always wanted!”

“Yeah,” said Carter, “and look who’s driving it.”

“What the – ! What’s that little creep doing driving a Corvette?”

“Sir, that is an unfair characterization! When you denigrate Jonathon, you denigrate yourself!”

O’Neill grumbled. “Yeah, yeah, all right. But Carter, I still don’t like the idea of some high school kid wandering around free with my memories. All of my memories. And where the hell did he get that car? Teenagers should not be allowed to drive Corvettes, or any sports car. I’ll bet the insurance is insanely high.”

They watched as Jon parked the car, got out, and noticed he was being watched. He walked over and said, “Hello Pops, Carter.”

O’Neill frowned. “If you value your life, you’ll never call me ‘Pops’ again. And aren’t you being a little over familiar with both of us?

“Not really, no,” replied Jon.

“And where the hell did you get that car? Whose is it?” asked the Colonel.

“It’s mine, I bought it. Do you like it?” Jon said with a faint sneer at the Colonel. “After all, it’s the car of your dreams, right? A 1965 Corvette with the fuel-injected 327 cubic inch engine.” They stared at each other, then Jon added with a deep sneer, “There were only 771 ‘Vettes produced in 1965 with fuel-injection – I own one of them, and you don’t.”

O’Neill sneered right back at Jon. “Yeah, it’s just what a high school kid needs to pick up teenage girls and impress his little friends, right?”

“I’ve never driven this to the school, I don’t let any of the kids even know I have it. I would never let a teenager drive my car!”

O’Neill said to Carter, “Do you see anything even a little ironic in that statement?”

“No sir. Jon isn’t a teenager.”

“Yeah,” said Jon with a snort, “tell me about it. Better yet, tell my insurance company – my rates are insanely high.”

“You know we can’t, and you know why, Jon,” Carter said softly.

“But your little girlfriend likes it, right?” O’Neill said with yet another sneer. He couldn’t help his negative reaction to his clone.

“She hasn’t seen it. I’ve heard stories of her sister’s driving habits; it scares the hell out of me to think of Dawn behind the wheel.”

“Why are you here?”

“I’ve got an appointment with Dr. Fraiser, concerning – you know what? It doesn’t concern you.”

“Hmmph. All right. Good luck.” O’Neill stalked off and got in his car without another word or even a glance back.

“You’d think he’d be a little nicer to you, after all, it’s sort of like having and older brother for you,” said Carter.

“No, I don’t think so. After all, I don’t think that much of him.”

Carter shook her head in dismay. “You’re the same! You should be thinking alike!”

“We do think alike, neither one of us likes the other.”

“You should at least try to be a little nicer to him.”

“I do try. Say, not to change the subject or anything, but have you run the background checks on Buffy and Dawn Summers and Willow Rosenberg that I asked for?”

“I tried to. I hit a big ol’ classified roadblock that elicited a bunch of nasty-grams from the Pentagon. So I had to bump it all upstairs.” Carter had to remind herself not to call him ‘sir’. After all, he was just a civilian.

Jon groaned, “I wanted to keep all this low-key.”

“Yeah, sorry,” said Carter, not sounding particularly sorry. “After you see Janet, you’re to see General Hammond. And don’t try to skip out, either.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it, Carter.”


“Good afternoon, General,” said Jon, “may I come in?”

“Come in, sit. So how’ve you been, son?”

“Oh, about as well as could be, sir. Dr. Fraiser is still working out some of the kinks that Loki left in me, but she knows what she’s doing.”

“Good, good.”

“Umm, about the background checks I requested?”

“Yes, why did you think that was necessary?”

“An overabundance of caution?” said Jon, a little uncertain of how much he should relate about the confrontation between him and Willow. “So how come the big secret? What did they get involved with? Can you tell me?”

Hammond frowned and said, “No. I would if I could, but they tell me it’s above my security clearance.”

Jon was flabbergasted. “Above your security clearance? How is that even possible?”

“I wish I knew. So what can you tell me about this encounter. And Jon, you’re gonna have tell me all you know, embarrassing or not.”

“You’ve seen my medical records, sir? What happened to privacy? Anyone else get to see them?” asked Jon, a little angry.

“You remember signing the new NDA forms, right? I’m afraid you don’t have a lot of privacy, we have to be able to ensure both your security, as well as ours.”

“So someone stuck in a medical permission form? And didn’t mention it to me?”

“I’m afraid so. But then, you had already given your permission, it’s implicit here at Stargate Command.”

Jon said, “Yes sir, I understand. Well, this whole thing started with my hormones getting seriously out of whack, so much so that – I don’t really have to go into detail here, do I? You’ve read the medical reports?”

“Yes I have, and no, you don’t have to give me every detail. What I need are the interactions between you and the Summers sisters and that Rosenberg woman.”

Jon sighed, “Yes sir.”

Next Chapter
StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking