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In Exile

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Summary: The final battle against Glory took unexpected turns and now one of the Scooby Gang finds themselves in a whole new world, while the rest simply fight to survive in the aftermath.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Stargate > Willow-Centered > Pairing: Daniel JacksonJamiFR181860,658711487,19819 Jun 0517 May 06No

In Exile

In Exile

Author: Jami

E-mail: aresangel1@yahoo.com

Rating: 18

Pairing: W/Daniel Jackson

Category: BTVS/Stargate SG-1

Disclaimer: Don't own them. Whedon owns BTVS, SG-1 belongs to their respective owners. I'm just borrowing them, I make no profit.

Spoilers: General for Stargate SG-1, just the basics. For Buffy, through "The Gift" in Season 5, but the ending I've altered to suit my own purposes.

Summary: The final battle against Glory took unexpected turns and now one of the Scooby Gang finds themselves in a whole new world, while the rest simply fight to survive in the aftermath.

Notes: The changes in the season finale will be explained in more detail as the story goes on, and be aware that this is my first SG-1 fic and while I like the show and the other stories out there, I'm in no way an aficionado when it comes to all things Stargate, so be kind but please send feedback.



1: Prologue





Every single person seated in the living room of the Summers' home had an almost shattered expression on their faces. Each had their share of blood and dirt covering them, but no one made a move to clean themselves of it. The act of moving was just too much at the moment.

Tara was pale, eyes wide and glazed as she sat passively in the armchair by the fireplace. Xander and Anya were sitting, shell-shocked, on the couch, hands clasped. Xander's eyes were glassy with unshed tears, Anya remained unnaturally still. She wasn't used to this, to the idea that people that she had grown to know, to almost call real friends, would never come back. She had seen much death in her thousand years, had been the cause of it in many cases, but it was the first time in memory that she recalled feeling…hollow.

Dawn was still shaking, even hours after finally being brought down from that monstrous tower. Spike held her close, occasionally whispering comforting words in her ear as he rocked her gently, trying to calm her. She was the only reason he was sitting there, sharing in the spontaneous gathering of mutual grief. He didn't care about Chubs and his pain, or the ex-demon for that matter either. And he certainly didn't give a toss about the Watcher. But Dawn was scared and devastated and he cared, even though he would never admit it, about the Little Bit too much to let her suffer on her own. Besides, Buffy would have wanted him to be there for her. He had promised her, swore to watch over the teenager in case the unthinkable happened. He wouldn't break his vow.

Rupert Giles hung back from the rest of the group, commiserating silently as he tried to come to terms with it all. This was the burden of being a Watcher. He knew there would come a day when his charge would fall in battle, but he had done his best over the years to ignore it, to forget about the inevitable. It only made life that much harder, and all their lives were difficult enough as it was.

Buffy's passing was painful to deal with and there was no doubt in his mind that the young group huddled in the living room deserved to grieve, but they couldn't afford to. There were too many things that had happened, and that were about to happen, and the lives of all those in Sunnydale depended on them. Word of the Slayer's death would spread soon enough. The hellmouth would be flooded with demons and vampires looking to take advantage and if they failed in their duties, who knows how many lives could be lost.

Looking around the room, the Watcher's heart sank as he took note of their other missing member. Dawn was too wrapped up in her own pain, Anya too stunned, and Spike simply couldn't bring himself to care, but he knew that Xander was acutely aware of the noticeable absence of shocking red hair and wide emerald eyes. If the rest were grieving the death of Buffy Summers, Xander was grieving the loss of his best friend since childhood. Tara's thoughts too were no doubt dwelling on her love, and not necessarily the Slayer. She was afraid for Willow, for what might have happened to her, but he knew there was no one more frightened for the absent redhead than Xander Harris. Buffy was dead, her body found lain out sprawled across the dirt and concrete of the ground. But Willow was simply…gone. No body, no sign of the witch at all, she had, with a stunned shout, just--vanished.

Giles would allow them the night to gather themselves. Tomorrow would bring with it a new day and their pain would have to be thrust aside. They had to protect Sunnydale.

But more importantly, they had to find their missing witch.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



She could hear voices around her, muffled but vaguely understandable. There had to be many people gathered around, a mix of both men and women, each sounding authoritative and urgent as they volleyed back and forth. The words were indistinguishable, more due to the throbbing in her head then anything else. Her whole body felt aflame with pain, there wasn't a muscle that didn’t ache, a cut that didn't smart. She may have some broken bones too, but it was too early to tell.

Her memory was a messy thing. She remembered the shaky, imposing dark tower. She remembered seeing Dawn, tied up at the top. She remembered Spike, the blonde thrown off the platform with force, his vampire healing the only reason he hadn’t died on the spot.

There had been a huge fight. Xander and Anya and Tara, all fighting minions, trying to keep the path to the tower clear. Buffy had been trying her best to reach the stairs, but was always held back. Giles had vanished from her vision, but she was sure he was all right. He had to be.

Buffy had called her, her Big Gun. So when she saw a break in the mass of fighting, saw a path to the tower, she had taken it, bolting up the unstable fixture without another thought. But she had been too late. Doc had already done his job, slicing open the teary-eyed Dawn, her blood sliding down her hands and onto the platform, into the thin air.

She could still hear the great rumbling that erupted when her blood hit the sky and she had been momentarily blinded by a flash of light that had erupted. After blinking away her shock, she realized she was at the top, face to face the seemingly old man before her, knife still in hand. Her eyes had to have been pure black as she mindlessly ran toward him, fury and fear a dangerous mix inside her that led her to recklessness. She would later regret those actions, she knew.

His eyes hadn't even widened. He was anything but afraid of her, scary black eyes or not. The light that had cut across the sky formed a rip in the skyline, but she had paid no attention to it. He, on the other hand, smiled at the sight. And before she had a chance to fight back, or at the very least react, his hand gripped her arm and he whipped her forward, his strength surprising.

Dawn's scream had rung through the air and she thought she might have heard Xander, or maybe Tara, shout her name. She couldn’t comprehend much of anything as she went from the dark of night to the almost blinding flash of light that came over her and she had screamed loudly and frightfully, power hitting her with such force that it knocked the wind out of her, and then everything went black.

"--heart rate's increasing--"

The voices began to cut into her thoughts. She wanted nothing more than to open her eyes, to see who she was surrounded by. For all she knew, Xander could be standing over her, waiting for her to tell him she was okay. There was also a chance that Glory or her minions were there, waiting for her to wake up with wicked intentions. It didn't matter either way. At the moment she hadn't the energy to open her eyes and see which fate lay before her.

"--is it dangerous--"

Willow tried to move, a finger, a toe, anything, but wasn't making much progress. Her ears were ringing, her solar plexus aching from the unnatural blast of power she had taken, the brunt of it had seemed to hit her in the chest, how she didn't know.

"--she waking up--"

She wasn't sure if that was a good thing. Forget who might be waiting for her, moving seemed like a horrible idea.

"--diagnosis, Doctor--"

Doctor? That sounded promising. She sincerely doubted Glory would bother seeking medical attention on her behalf.

"--not sure, Colonel--"

Colonel? Her eyes flew open, utter confusion and fear in her green eyes as she stifled a groan. Even the simple act of opening her eyes was painful. And what was this about a Colonel? Military was bad. What would the military be doing here? The Initiative was gone, done for, or at least she thought they were. Oh Goddess, if it was the Initiative what could they want? She really didn't want to be experimented on. Maggie Walsh might be dead, but that didn't guarantee anything.

What she didn't expect was to see a kindly and concerned looking redheaded woman peering down at her. She appeared to be in her mid to late thirties, she donned a white lab coat and a serious frown.

"Is she awake?" That voice came from her left and she let her head fall to the side listlessly to see who the owner of the gruff tone was. He was a stern looking middle-aged man, still in very good shape from what she could tell, and wearing a fitted black t-shirt and green, almost camouflage pants.

"Miss?" the woman asked softly, bringing Willow's attention back to her. "Can you speak?"

The battered girl tried to speak, her jaw clenching when she couldn't form words, just a couple of grunts and gasps escaping her.

"It's okay," the woman she assumed was the doctor assured her, "don't force it." She stepped to the side, pulling out a syringe. Willow momentarily panicked but she slipped into the IV and the redhead finally registered the persistent feel of a needle in her arm and the slightly hard mattress beneath her. She was in a hospital.

"Who is she?" the stern man asked again. Willow was beginning to drift again, the pain ebbing as whatever medication she was given started to take its course.

"She needs to rest, Jack," came a soft reprimand, the voice deep but calming.

"And I need answers Daniel," he replied tightly.

"Colonel," this time a hesitant female voice, but she was cut off swiftly by the doctor.

"Dr. Jackson's right, Colonel," she said firmly. "She can't even speak right now, you'll get answers soon enough. But for now she needs sleep and time."

"Time?" he snorted incredulously. "Janet--"

"Colonel," she interrupted; her voice harder. "She won't be any help to you tonight. I'm sure the General will understand. Come back tomorrow and maybe she will be able to tell you what happened. Please, be reasonable, sir."

Willow's eyes drifted shut and her head lolled further to the side as their voices began to sound farther away. As she fell back into a drug induced sleep, she managed to catch his disbelieving final words.

"Reasonable?" the man, Jack, replied blustery. "She dropped out of thin air and you're telling me to be reasonable?"

Oh. That so didn't sound good.
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