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Summary: “Joke if you want, for the next week or so; no one’s coming to save you, even Teal’c couldn’t offer me a challenge,” Daniel teased, hearing the Colonel’s heart pound. No matter how much of a soldier Jack was, he couldn’t hide his fear from a vampire...

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Stargate > GeneralpezgirlFR1513,0044121,5673 Aug 113 Aug 11Yes

Author: Orangethunder
Rating: 15
Warning: Characters deaths
Fandoms: BtVS and Stargate SG1

Summary: “Joke if you want, for the next week or so; no one’s coming to save you, even Teal’c couldn’t offer me a challenge,” Daniel teased, hearing the Colonel’s heart pound. No matter how much of a soldier Jack was, he couldn’t hide his fear from a vampire. “Jack, Jack, Jack... you’re sweating.”

Response to the Twisted Shorts August-fic-a-day challenge

Timelines: Season 3 for both shows

Feedback: Yes please! :D

Disclaimer: BtVS and Stargate belong to Mutant Enemy and MGM respectively.

The last few seconds of Daniel Jackson’s life were more or less what he had envisioned over the last three years; the desperate fight for life; his attacker being somewhat less-than-human; his last thoughts focussed on his deceased parents, if he’d see them again. His thoughts were also on his friends and team mates; SG1, the frontline team within Stargate Command.

The ‘less’ of what he’d imagined his death might be like was the fact that none of his said team mates were fighting alongside him, they weren’t even on an alien planet!

Nope, he was all alone.

All alone in Sunnydale, California.

Well, he had never expected that; to be killed on Earth by some kind of deformed man, the heavily-ridged face held amber eyes; the grinning, bloodstained mouth showcasing a couple of overly-sharp canines.

Black spots flitted before his eyes; he tried to blink them away even as the deformed man’s bloody wrist descended towards his mouth. He cringed, rebelling against ice-cold blood filling his mouth; his consciousness draining away.

Daniel’s eyes closed, thinking that if he’d brought his team along maybe he’d have a shot of escaping the situation; cursing his previous desire to keep his friends away while he grieved for his wife.

His deceased wife, Sha’re.

He’d just wanted to get away for a week or two; away from SG1; from his job; from the guilty shine in Teal’c’s dark eyes... most of all, he’d wanted to get away from his life.

Daniel had figured that his best bet would have to be the town with a bright name; a sleepy little town where no one knew him as a member of the SGC or as ‘that archaeologist who thought that aliens had landed on Earth’.

But Daniel wasn’t crazy; he was in way over his head.

And even escaping to Sunnydale hadn’t changed that; but who would have thought that, after surviving three years as a member of SG1, a small town with a sickly-sweet name would have his death written all over it?

His body went numb.

Why hadn’t he gone to L.A. instead?

His eyes opened, but saw only darkness; he was in a room, or a cave.

He could smell the damp stone; he could hear the worms wriggling their way through the soil beneath him, even through the stone slab on which he was lying he could still hear them all. He sat up, listening for any movement.

A second passed and then, snarling, his stomach ached; he was hungry... he didn’t think he’d ever been that hungry before in his life.

Then his memories resurfaced, having been blocked for only a few moments by his sudden awakening, he remembered the missions- he had very nearly been that hungry before, on several such planets. But that was in his past life, he wasn’t the same; he wasn’t human, weak as he had been.

“You are hungry,” it was a statement, not a question.

He sensed a connection to the disembodied voice, whoever he was; and he didn’t like it, the holder of the voice seemed weak and young.

Through his new, enhanced hearing abilities he heard something being dragged along the ground towards him, he smelled the hot blood within the body; he heard the blood gushing through veins- he could barely restrain himself from flying at it.

He wanted to tear into the body, and drain its blood.

But he stopped himself; feeling somewhat proud of his self-discipline; that quality was powerful, and it would ensure his survival.

“A meal,” came the voice of his sire, “he is fresh.”

Daniel launched himself at the body; the darkness prevented him from seeing it, but his sense of smell was unnatural and brilliant. He sunk his fangs into the body’s neck and tasted the blood as it poured into his mouth.

He was powerful.

For the first time, Daniel Jackson felt powerful.

It had been almost a week since he’d been reborn, he revelled in the power that had been given to him; a power that was rightfully his. He deserved the power; the growing clan of minions at his disposal; the easy access to blood- or ‘the happy meals on legs’ as they called them.

They, the humans so disgustingly honourable that they reminded him of SG1, the ones that slaughtered his kind with primitive weapons like crossbows. If SG1 ever crossed his path, they’d use their guns; it amused him that a bunch of teenage children presented more of a challenge to him than a group of well-trained soldiers.

Which was exactly why he wasn’t targeting the SGC for the moment, they would be dealt with later after he’d wiped out the plague of the underworld; the Slayer and her subordinates; particularly the redhead, her power felt different to that of the Slayer’s; different, but no less dangerous.

Until yesterday they had remained unaware of his existence, but he watched them as they huddled around the table; the table was covered with books that, not so long ago, would have excited him to the point of babbling. He cursed his previous life as he watched them from the window outside, remembering the geeky Daniel Jackson who would always turn the other cheek.

Daniel glowered at the teens, he knew that he could enter the High School; rip their throats out without an invitation; his sire had informed him of much... before Daniel had torn his head off, the memory of the tumbling dust was still in his mind.

That would never be him.

He would never be slayed; all he had to do was take the Slayer and the witch out, and after that...

Daniel smiled grimly in the shadows, wondering what werewolf blood tasted like; whether Jaffa blood would be tainted with a Symbiote’s.

The first time he engaged them, as Jack would say, in combat they were walking away from a club dubbed ‘The Bronze’; he could smell the blood-packs, also known as humans, crammed within the walls of the building; the pounding of many hearts drew him, but he resisted- he would return later that night.

He sidled along silently, using the shadows and general darkness as cover; he watched as the redhead shoved a dark-haired boy away playfully, he could hear their laughter; he could feel the magic thrumming slightly within the girl and wondered if others could sense it too. At times he couldn’t feel the magic at all, but occasionally he could- there was a correlation between the presence of magic when the girl used it, and the absence of it when she didn’t.

A flicker of fire ignited in the palm of the witch’s hand, she smiled proudly as she stared at; the flame fizzled out when the Slayer stopped in her tracks; rigid and alert.

The Slayer had felt him.

“What’s the matter, Buffy?” the witch asked, also coming to a stop.

The boy frowned at the blonde, “Spidey-senses?”

“You’d better come out now,” she ordered, resentfully, “If you’re gonna ruin Bronze night, better get it over with.”

Daniel felt his lips quirk up into a smile, he stepped out of the shadows and eyed the blonde; he noticed a glimmer of nervousness within her eyes, despite the steely glare, “Why would you think that?”

The redhead’s eyebrows rose; she looked at him appraisingly and seemed exasperated, “’cause you’re a vampire- as a general rule, you vamps tend to ruin stuff.”

He couldn’t feel any magic emanating from her, perhaps she hid her power; a bright idea, if it had been intentional... but then why would she have used her magic returning from the Bronze if she didn’t want to be noticed?

Maybe she didn’t know.

“Yeah, and eat people,” added the boy, scrutinizing him warily.

“You also stain clothes, and get dust in my hair,” complained the Slayer, a slight smirk touching her lips, “But, don’t worry; you’ll wash out after a shower or two.”

He was getting the feeling that these kids would be enormously fun to kill; if their humor was half as forced as it was when he was only taunting them, he could just imagine how amusing they would be when he got really got started. Pity he didn’t have a sarcophagus, the enjoyment would be limited if they couldn’t be revived again.

Daniel smirked at the Slayer, looking at her hair, “After tonight you may need to tell your mom to watch her water and heating bills.”

His mortal self had hung out with Jack way too long, his jabs and wit came easily even when he was hungry; he had saved a little space for the Slayer and her friends.

Buffy’s brow furrowed momentarily, then a light went on in her eyes; discreetly, she muttered to her friends, “Get outta here.”

Too late, Slayer.

His minions stepped out of the shadows, surrounding the trio completely; their amber eyes glowed avidly at the kids, he could see the saliva dangling from their mouths. They were disgusting, they held no restraint, pride or self-discipline; they were animals... and he’d starved them until their one and only thought was of blood.

What was the term Jack had used?

Cannon fodder.

Daniel didn’t care if these ones survived, they were expendable; they were among the weakest, and they were only a fraction of the numbers he’d managed to build up, “Remember what we talked about,” he pressed forcefully to his minions, “Don’t turn them.”

The last thing he wanted was a vampire witch vying for control of his hard-earned numbers, and he certainly didn’t want a Slayer-Vampire abomination on his hands; as for the boy, well, “Turn the boy if you have to, but it won’t earn you any brownie points.”


“Dinnertime,” Daniel sang lightly, and the pack of vampires launched themselves forwards.

The Slayer may have a chance of surviving the night, if she gave up on her friends.

The other two were only bloodbags.

That night he’d learned of the aberration; the vampire with a soul, with the allegiance towards the Slayer and her friends. He’d only heard a rumor or two, something that he’d previously thought of as a fairytale for vampires; something ridiculously funny and annoyingly stupid.

The one vampire who had dared bring the fairytale up had met his swift end with a metal bar through the brain; he had made sure that there was little left of the vampire’s skull by the time Daniel had finished with him- he didn’t allow make-believe within his clan.

The others would do well to remember that.

The fairytale had proved to be real; the creature with the unfortunate name of ‘Angel’ had swooped in like an overgrown bat to save the Slayer and her sidekicks. He would have been cursing the vampire’s name, as his mortal self had cursed the Goa’uld, had he not been so sure that he’d get another chance.

Daniel would try again soon.

The list of enemies had risen by one; the vampire with the girlie name would be destroyed too, he’d shove him out into the blinding sunlight and watch him burn.

Watch him burn with a song in his blackened heart.

Daniel’s plans had nearly been ruined, ruined by his careless oversight; in the midst of his broken memories and obsession of the Slayer and her friends he’d forgotten them... the three most important people in his previous life, he had realised of course that if he’d failed to return to the SGC his friends and team mates would come looking for him.

What he hadn’t anticipated was that SG1 would follow him into Sunnydale halfway through his ‘downtime’, didn’t those people have lives of their own? They did; and he’d rip it from them, he’d destroy them... and he’d revel in it.

He’d revel in the shock they’d show when they realised that their pathetic, weak Daniel Jackson was dead and that the demon within him would kill them too.

Daniel smiled as he held the crowbar up, he fingered the weapon delicately and then turned his attention to the vampire before him; one of his minions, Grodan, was fixed to the stone wall like an ugly painting. The metal rods he’d found in the cave had been thrust through the vampire; one for his throat, the other for his stomach; both had been buried into the wall behind, pinning the vampire securely.

And painfully.

He turned to look at his small army, “Just a little incentive, guys.


Daniel whipped his arm out.

The crowbar sailed across the open space, and imbedded itself in one of the vampire’s eyes; his victim let out a girlish screech.

“... fail me, got that?”

They nodded furiously, “Yes, sir!”

Daniel grinned at the title, “See, Jack? I can be a great leader, can’t I?”

His grin growing ever more manic, he turned to his former best friend and brushed some lint from the man’s jacket; his eyes were full of pain, and a little disbelief. But along with all that there was still a little glint of rebellion and black humor.

“You sure know how to show decorum, Danny-boy,” the man remarked, lightly.

Daniel patted his cheek, ignoring the Jaffa’s body at his feet.

“Joke if you want, for the next week or so; no one’s coming to save you, even Teal’c couldn’t offer me a challenge,” Daniel teased, hearing the Colonel’s heart pound. No matter how much of a soldier Jack was, he couldn’t hide his fear from a vampire. “Jack, Jack, Jack... you’re sweating.”

A vampire broke ranks and ran at Jack, amber eyes burning with an unnatural intensity, Daniel calmly withdrew a stake from his jacket sleeve and allowed the vampire to impale himself on the tip; even when they were ‘drugged’ they were stupid.

Jack’s lips twitched up into a humorless smile, not breaking eye-contact with Daniel, “Your breath reeks, is all.”

Daniel snorted as he replaced the weapon, “Suppose you’re gonna offer me a breath mint?”

“Was thinking about it.”

The man was fun; it would be a waste to kill him just like that.

Maybe he’d keep him for a while longer.

Maybe a century or two.

The second time he’d fought the Slayer he’d succeeded.

He had allowed Jack to take care of Sam, the boy and the witch; his childe was very eager to get the Slayer and her friends out of the way. There were more important things, bigger fish to kill; the ‘fish’ being the SGC of course, all those walking meals in the mountain; enough to last for days, maybe weeks.

And when he was finished with them... Open Sesame; so many more worlds to explore, to populate and torment.

The one thing he’d wanted, above all else since his first meal, had been the Chaapa’ai.

The Stargate.

Once he had that, there would be nothing he could not do.

Daniel held onto that thought as he watched the Slayer, she was the scourge of the underworld; his scourge, really. But as he studied her still form, wrapped in the thin, white blankets, he noted how small and fragile she looked; not at all how he’d expect a supernatural warrior to look like.

Either way, it was pointless to wait around for too long; a nurse might walk into the room- he would have no problem killing another one, but he was sure that someone would notice more staff missing; the small number he’d taken would hardly raise an eyebrow.

May as well get it over with; one last obstacle.

Daniel stepped over the witch’s limp body, barely glancing at Jack as the former soldier drank greedily from her neck, “You’ll choke, you know.”

Jack looked up and grimaced, “How much of Teal’c’s blood have we got left?”

Daniel grinned, thinking of the effects of the blood; it really was like being on PCP, he’d only tried it once, he’d found that his self-discipline and restraint took a hit whenever he drunk the Jaffa’s blood; it was useful when he used it on his army.

Even the vampire with the girlie name hadn’t stood a chance.

He snickered to himself as he reached over to the life-support machine; he stared at the lines zigzagging their way across the monitor’s screen; signalling life, “Night-night, Slayer.”

Sweet dreams.

General George Hammond of Stargate Command was worried; not exactly a rare occurrence in his line of work and, as usual, his anxiety was turned towards a member of SG1.

Daniel Jackson, to be specific.

The man had left Stargate Command after the death of his wife, Sha’re.

Left, in the physical sense, officially he was still a member; he hadn’t yet sent Jackson’s resignation, if there was a chance in hell that the man would change his mind then Hammond wasn’t going to send the form.

If Daniel returned from his leave and he still wanted to resign then the General wasn’t going to stand in his way; but he sure hoped that their archaeologist would reconsider. The man had got the SGC on its feet, after all.

Maybe SG1 would change his mind, they were very close; hell, they’d even taken leave to go after their forth; they were a family, and Daniel knew that.

He was brought from his musings by a knock at his door, he looked at the grey barrier and sighed, “Come,” he called, pulling a personnel file towards him.

The door opened, an airman stared across the table at him and glanced back briefly, “Sir, Daniel Jackson is here to see you.”


The man had only left about a week ago.

Curious, General Hammond nodded and wondered if he had brought the rest of his team back with him; maybe he was reconsidering.

“Send him in.”

~*~ The End ~*~

The End

You have reached the end of "Compromised". This story is complete.

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