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Father of Mine

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Summary: Buffy/SG-1. Buffy and SG1. General Jack O'Neill discovers that the man who raised him wasn't his father. His biological father, as it turns out, is twenty-six years younger than him.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Stargate > Xander-Centered > Theme: Xander's Real FamilyFlatlanderFR13821,16616951,47915 Feb 0610 Sep 07No

The Oddness of Saturday



Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 belongs to Gekko Corp., Double Secret Productions, MGM, and the Sci-Fi Channel. Buffy the Vampire Slayer belongs to Joss Whedon, Marti Noxon, Twentieth Century Fox Productions, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Kuzui Enterprises, and Sanddollar Television. Any copyright infringements were not intended. This story was written for entertainment and not for profit.

Spoilers are Timing: Takes place sometime in season eight of Stargate SG-1 and under two years after the series finale of Buffy. Spoilers are for late season seven of Buffy and loose spoilers for various Buffy and SG-1 episodes.

Author's Notes: The weird, broken car alarm is based on an experience of mine. A neighbor's car on the next block was making a really loud noise. I went over to see what could be making that weird noise and realized it was the car. I was afraid the thing was going to explode and kept my distance from it. The car wasn't running, and yet it sounded like the engine, the car alarm or a combination of the two was screaming. The car owners weren't home, so the two people who lived across the street and I just stared at the car for a while. It didn't blow up, so we all eventually left. I don't think it exploded; I didn't hear anything like that later on. It was really weird.

No poke was meant at Sedans. I don't know one type of car from the next unless my family owns one just like it (Do you have any idea how many Ford Taurus models from the last six years can be found in Louisiana?).

This series is an answer to a challenge I heard about through another fic that answered the same challenge. Thanks go to Mark D. for posting his fic and the challenge on cross-gate. I was intrigued, what can I say?

Here's the challenge. It was originally posted on jackfic by Anime_Ronin. Thanks for the challenge!


It's been done many times, in many ways, and for the most part it's been done nicely - Jack O'Neill is Xander's father. What I pose to you, though, is the reverse - Xander Harris is the true father of one Jack O'Neill.

(waits for screams of horror and howls of laughter to subside)

Done? Good - how this is, could in fact be purposeful temporal magic, or a one-night stand with Jack's mother in the past after a magical mix-up ala Willow or of the Hellmouth variety.

It's pretty much an open challenge, but there is only one rule - both father and son must meet with Hammond, explain things, and Hammond reach for his anti-acids, "I can tell this one's going to need a whole bottle."

Any takers?


Summary: Strange didn't even cover this Saturday.

Part One of 'Father of Mine'.


I blinked. "What?"

He stared into my eyes. He licked dry lips, took a breath, and repeated, "I'm your father."

It had been a weird day. I'd woken up at seven that morning, and it wasn't because of my alarm, which I hadn't set that day because it was a Saturday. It was because of the godawful noise coming from outside.

I'd stumbled out of bed, cursing, and grabbed the handgun I kept in a drawer before heading outside. As it turned out, nothing was amiss outside. Nothing of the dangerous variety, anyway. Nothing was on fire, there wasn't a single alien blowing things up or causing havoc in other ways, and there wasn't even a tornado. The sky was pleasantly calm and free of gray clouds. Nothing was wrong.

Still, something was making an awfully loud noise. I was still half-asleep so it took me a few minutes to assess the noise. It sounded like a car alarm stuck on one note, one really loud note. I scanned the street, my eyes darting from one car to the next. All of them looked fine, but I was certain that one of them was making the noise.

Some of my neighbors were stepping out of their houses to investigate the noise now. They came to the same conclusions as I did, and we all slowly approached the car that was making the noise. "It's my car!" one of them said. He looked awfully apologetic as he darted forward toward a slick, black Sedan. He opened the driver side door and slid behind the wheel.

"Don't!" I shouted, going into high alert. Now fully awake, I dashed forward intending to drag this moron away from something that sounded like it was going to explode.

I never made it to the car. The noise stopped, and everyone winced when their ears rang in the unexpected silence. "What the hell was that?" one of my other neighbors demanded. I was a little curious myself.

The car owner emerged from the car. He shot us all an apologetic grin. "Sorry about that," he said. "The car alarm sticks sometimes. It's never been this loud before, though. I was going to take it to the shop today to get it fixed, I swear."

"That was a car alarm?" I nearly shouted. I couldn't believe it. That hadn't sounded like a car alarm. It sounded like the car engine giving out a really loud warning, one that warned that it was about to blow and take out the entire neighborhood with it.

"Sorry," he said again, and I had to restrain myself from not punching him. Instead, I turned on my heels and stomped back to my house. I slammed closed every door between me and the bed, muttering that, out all of the neighborhoods I could have moved into all those years ago, I had to move into the one with the crazy cars.

That hadn't been the end of it. Oh, no. You'd think that after everything else Fate had pulled on me it would let me take one day off. Nope, not a chance for Brigadier General Jack O'Neill. I can't go one day without being molested, kidnapped, shot at, killed and revived, knocked out, or woken up way too early on a Saturday morning by a deranged car alarm.

I got a call from the base. At 7:30 AM. I'd managed to go back to sleep and had a nice, refreshing nap…not. I got five minutes before my phone rang. It was at moments like those that I hated being a general.

I contemplated the phone for a while. I wondered if I would get in trouble if I took the phone into the back yard and beat on it with a baseball bat until there was nothing left but little pieces of plastic and wire. Probably. Still glaring, I grabbed the phone and brought it up to my face. "What?" I barked into it.

"Um…Hello, sir." It was Sgt. Walter Davis. Evidently, he'd realized he'd called me at a bad time. Good. Now if only he could just get to the point instead of stammering out an apology. "Er…sorry to wake you up, sir…"

"Walter," I said, halting the stream of words. "What is it?"

"It's just, um, you're not going to believe this."

I moaned, sighed, and rubbed my face with my free hand. "Just say it, will you?"

"Okay. The head breakfast chef is refusing to serve breakfast. He says he can't work with the other breakfast chef. They started fighting earlier this morning, and from what I've heard, sir, the head chef now has the other chef tied up and is refusing to release him unless we agree to replace him. He's threatened to stab the other chef with a spatula if we don't agree to his demands."

I blinked. Then I blinked again. This day was just getting weirder. I blinked some more. "Could you repeat that?"

Walter sighed. "Colonel Carter thinks that the head chef, Captain Littrel, was exposed to some sort of alien pollen that SG-2 brought back accidentally on its last mission. Captain Littrel passed SG-2 in the hallway right after the team had returned from their mission, and Colonel Carter believes that the pollen was transferred then."

"Really? Alien pollen?"

"That's the theory, sir. Dr. Brightman is requesting that everyone who could have potentially been exposed to the pollen return to base. That includes you, sir."

I groaned and slowly sat up. This was just peachy. This had to happen, I was certain of it. Fate really hated me. That was the only explanation I was accepting.

"It is contagious?" I asked as I got to my feet and shuffled across the carpet to the closet. "Does the base need to go under quarantine?"

"No, sir. Colonel Carter and Dr. Brightman don't think it's infectious."

"So why does everyone have to come to the base?"

"It's just a precaution, sir."

"Precaution my ass," I muttered later on as I entered the parking lot at Cheyenne Mountain. Amazingly, that was all it ended up being, a precaution. Nothing happened. SG-2 had washed off the rest of the pollen, and Captain Littrel was the only one affected. All I ended up having to deal with was getting Littrel treated, then accepting his request for a transfer. It was too bad, too. His pancakes were to die for, or so I heard. I went straight for the fruit loops whenever I had breakfast at the base.

So, I was heading for the elevator, fully intent on leaving and not coming back for at least twelve hours if not a full twenty-four. Halfway there, I was stopped by my fun-lovin' Jaffa pal, Teal'c. Who was smiling.

I sighed. "Hi, Teal'c. What's up?"

He kept on smiling. I wondered what he could possible find enjoyable about the day's events. "I have arranged with Colonel Carter and Doctor Jackson to watch The Empire Strikes Back this afternoon. I was wondering if we could watch it at your house?"

"Huh?" I asked. After the morning I'd had, that was the last thing I expected him to say. I admit I should have; Teal'c had been talking about the movie for weeks now, and we'd all tried to avoid sitting down and watching it with him. It seemed he'd finally brought Carter and Daniel over to his side. He probably pulled the stoic look on them. Gets us every time.

Still, I'd expected him to say something completely different. Anything, really. Like when Walter called to tell me that the chef had gone postal. I hadn't expected that at all.

"That's all?" I asked, seeking to clarify. He raised an eyebrow. "You're not going to tell me something bizarre, like the showers are leaking blue jell-o, or the doc does a weekly strip tease in the infirmary? Or let's say, perhaps, that the Teletubbies have just come through the Stargate? 'Cause, honestly, I'd believe anything right now."

He had two eyebrows in the air now. "Are you well, O'Neill?"

I waited a minute, but Teal'c didn't deliver a punch line. He really was concerned. I let out a breath of relief. Thank God. Maybe the day was done being weird. Maybe.

"Sir!" I turned and watched as Siler jogged up to me. "There's something wrong with the showers in the locker rooms, sir. Blue jell-o appears to be dripping out of them instead of water."

I gawked at him. "Oh, you've gotta be kidding me!"

But, of course, he wasn't. It wasn't even the fault of the SGC and its assorted weirdness this time. It would seem that the canteen at NORAD was responsible. The chefs had made the mistake of serving blue jell-o for breakfast. Normally, this would not be a big deal, but this jell-o was the worst jell-o ever conceived. The General in charge at NORAD got so many complaints about the jell-o that he ordered the breakfast chef to dump it. The chef decided to dump it all in the toilet.

Somehow, this caused a muck-up in the water pipes. Don't ask me how. Maybe the pipes didn't like the jell-o, either. The whole mass of it ended up in the pipes of the SGC showers.

We called the plumbers. The bill they presented to me afterwards, detailing the cost of expenses in cleaning and replacing some of the pipes, made me groan. I resolved to make NORAD pay for it.

After that, I didn't even resist when Teal'c brought up the subject of Star Wars watching again. I just arranged a time, then I went home. Thankfully, nothing stopped me this time, and I made it all the way to the house. Once there, I promptly collapsed on my bed and was soon deeply asleep.

I woke to the doorbell. I felt a whole lot better and answered the door cheerfully. I think my attitude scared Daniel, Carter and Teal'c, but I didn't care. I was in a good mood. There was no way anything else would go wrong that day. If it did, I'd just ignore it. Nope, I wasn't going to put up with anything strange for the rest of the day.

To my surprise, The Empire Strikes Back turned out not all bad. It felt good to sit and relax with my team, too, even though technically they weren't my team anymore. We hadn't done anything like this in months, not since before I'd become a general. It felt good.

To make it even sweeter, nothing weird happened that evening, just as I'd hoped. We watched the movie and afterwards sat around and argued about it. I couldn't help it; I smiled. Everything was right with the world. Finally.

The doorbell rang. Carter, Daniel and Teal'c paused and looked at me. "Are you expecting anyone, O'Neill?"

"No." My stomach did a flip-flop. I should have known it wouldn't last.

I stood up, put my beer can next to a few empty ones on the table, and went to the door. I paused a moment, closed my eyes and muttered, "What now?" Then I stepped forward and pulled the door open.

A kid I'd never seen before in my life stood on my porch. He wore a brown jacket and jeans, was approximately six foot two, and had brown hair and eye. One of his eyes was covered over by a black eye patch. On any other day, I may have thought the eye patch was a bit odd, but instead I thought it was the most normal thing I'd seen all day.

"Can I help you?" I asked, trying not to sound impatient.

The kid licked his lips. "Are-are you Jack O'Neill?"

I tilted my head. "Who wants to know?"

"I do," he replied. "My name is Xander. Xander Harris. I think I may be your father."

Down the street, the Sedan's car alarm went off again.
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