Title: Dawn Winchester?
Fandom: Supernatural/Buffy the Vampire Slayer Crossover
Warnings: Mangled timelines, Joyce is sick but doesn't die because Sam needs a Mom type in his life, unbetaed
Summary: I read a challenge once a long time ago about Dawn's real father. It suddenly occurred to me that John would make a good candidate. Set after 'Shadow' and au from the 'I'm not real' conversation between Dawn and Buffy.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Supernatural! If you recognize it, it ain't mine!
Author note: This plot bunny has jumped up on my chest and is practically screaming in my face Also, I’m working from memory here, so please don’t nitpick!
"So, I'm not real." Dawn looked at her sister and mom with tear filled eyes, hugging her pillow to her chest.
"NO!" Buffy said and grabbed her hand. "You were made from my blood. That doesn't mean you aren't real. It just means you were conceived differently. Like,,,test tube kids! And then aged!... So you could...um, help defend yourself?" she finished weakly, glancing at her mom for support.
Joyce nodded. "Buffy is right. You are real. I don't like the way those monks just arbitrarily made you without any ones consent, but I would feel that way about any child being made without a parent's consent. It doesn't make you any less real. It doesn't make you any less a part of this family. It is a bit strange, but I've learned to cope with strange."
“Mom?” Dawn sniffled.
Joyce pulled Dawn into a hug. "My oldest daughter is a Vampire Slayer. Her best friend is a Witch. Her other best friend is dating a former Vengeance Demon. The closest thing she has to a father figure is a former Watcher who runs a magic shop. We live on a hellmouth and have an apocalypse every spring."
The girls started giggling. "My youngest daughter being a magical clone made to hide a magical something or other? pfft." Joyce waved her hand.
At that they all started laughing from the release of tension and collapsed into each other. Put that way, Dawn thought, she really wasn't that much of a blip on the weird meter. After all, Xander had a chipped vampire living in his basement apartment. She laughed and clutched her sides, maybe that was unliving? That right there was waaaay freakier than a magical clone. "Wait a minute." she said, looking at Buffy. "If I'm a clone, shouldn't I look more like you?"
Buffy shrugged. She didn't know anything about cloning, magical or otherwise. "Beats me, but we could always ask Willow. But only at the Magic Box, and only under privacy wards so Glory doesn't find out about this." She looked sternly at Dawn. "I'm not taking any risks with your life."
Joyce nodded in agreement. Dawn was far too important to lose over such a stupid mistake and not because of the magical whatsit either. She pulled the girls off of Dawn's bed, and pushed them towards the door. "We can go and ask now, she should be there. I was supposed to tell you it was a research day Buffy, but we got distracted."
Buffy nodded and held Dawn's shoulders as they walked down the stairs and out to her mom's car. Willow would know and what ever other questions Dawn needed answered they would find the answers to. No matter who she had to beat up. Buoyed up by the thought of beating the crap out of whatever monks survived Glory's rampage, Buffy smiled as they set off for The Magic Box.
At the back table in the Magic Box there was complete silence. No one had expected to hear that Dawn was the Key. They had all thought that the Key would be an object, not a person. That meant that Glory would have to kill Dawn to use the Key. And they knew that Glory would have no problem doing just that.
Xander stared at Buffy. He couldn’t believe Buffy was being so shallow. "She was made from your blood, Glory is out to kill her to rip the dimensions apart, and all you can ask why doesn't she look like me?"
Buffy punched his arm, pulling her Slayer strength so she didn't break it. "No, Xan. Dawn wants to know. Clones should be identical or something. I've got no clue so I'm tossing the ball to the brains," she said gesturing to Willow and Giles. "They know magic and science. If anyone knows the answer they do, and whatever answers Dawn needs, she gets, right?" She stared hard around the table.
There was a solemn nodding from around the table. It was obvious that Buffy had gone into a super protect mode and the truth was that the rest of the Scoobies weren't far behind. Dawn wasn’t the first member of their family to have a demon pick them out for a sacrifice or a target to hurt them. But even if their memories of Dawn were false, she was theirs. And that meant Glory wasn't getting her hands on Dawn, no matter what they had to do.
Wearing her sternest version of her resolve face, Willow turned to Dawn. "You aren't a clone. You are right about clones being identical, and the magic wouldn't affect that. I'll have to check your DNA out with science, and that will take 72 hours, because I'll have to take a skin sample from inside your mouth, because we can't use blood because of the Key and I'll have to grow it out and I'll need Buffy's DNA too, and,"
Xander put his hand over Willow's mouth. "Right, three days for you to do the DNA work, and we'll keep looking up stuff on the Glory front while you do that." Willow caught her breath and nodded, grateful that Xander had stopped her ramble before it could really get started.
Tara slipped into the back room and came out carrying the first aid kit. She handed Willow a couple of sterile swabs and accepted a large book from Giles. While Willow swabbed Dawn and Buffy's mouths for the DNA samples she needed, Joyce also accepted a large book.
With Willow working on the clone or what question, someone would have to take her place reading the new shipment of books that Giles had just received. ‘Thank god most of them were in English or Latin’ Joyce thought. She had brushed up on the Latin she had learned during college when she found out just how much of Slaying was really researching. She may not be able to do much for her daughter, but at least she could help find out how Buffy could kill the current big bad gunning for her, and this time Dawn as well.
Buffy opened her mouth and let Willow do the swabbing thing without protest. She knew that there was only two ways that this test could go, either the monks had scrambled her DNA to make Dawn, or she was about to find out she was a mother. She didn’t think that they had scrambled the DNA. That was far more complicated than just making a test tube kid, even if they did add in the Key to the mix.
If Dawn was her daughter, then things had to change. She hadn’t been the best big sister for Dawn, but that was going to change and if Dawn wanted, she would be the best mom she could be. That meant supporting Dawn as much as possible like her mother now did for her. Why Joyce had even learned to carve stakes! And hosted research parties complete with large amounts of munchies! She washed out the results of Slaying out of Buffy's clothes and offered to do the same for the rest of the Scoobies, and ....Buffy's thoughts trailed off as she thought of everything her mother had done for her. It would not be easy living up to Joyce's example, but she was determined to try if that was what Dawn wanted.
John Winchester sat at the counter in the cheap diner and watched the people around him. He was tucked into a corner with his back to the wall. There was a young man farther down the counter that caught his attention. The kid didn't look like Sammy, but he was wearing a Stanford sweatshirt just like the one Sammy used to wear around the campus.
John took another drink of his coffee and hoped the painkillers would kick in soon. He hated the visions that he received and the headaches that went with them. Had it been too much to ask that Sam wouldn't get them? The nightmares that came with both their way of life and seeing the love of your life murdered were bad enough. They really didn’t need visions on top of it.
Ok, they were survivable and useful when it came to pinpointing something that needed hunting, but the pain from the visions on the other hand, just knocked you on your ass. ‘And Missouri said Sam was stronger than either of them? Oh God, my poor boy. If it is this bad for me, Sam probably can't even move. Thank god he's with Dean.’ John thought.
John squinted through the pain in his head and regarded the mental image of his eldest son. Dean would look after Sam, of that there was no doubt. He always had. It hadn’t been the best way to raise him, but Dean had always been stubborn about it, trying his best to live up to his self-imposed image of the best big brother in world. It had been the last thing Dean had promised his mother, and it was a promise he was determined not to break, no matter how unrealistic it was or what John said on the subject. John had given up that argument long ago, not that it was much of an argument. Dean just dug his heels in and plowed forward, stubborn cuss. Sam was the one that would argue.
One thing about Sam though, when Dean's abilities manifested, whatever they were going to be, he wouldn't let Dean deal with it on his own. That shaman or what ever he had been, had said that Dean's powers would come to him before he reached his 30th year. That wasn't far off now, God, 30. His boy would be 30 in only 3 more years. Where had the time gone?
John shook his head and winced again at the pain. He knew where the years had gone, down the road and through god alone knows how many haunts and creatures they had hunted down and killed. How many people had they saved? Did it really matter as long as they were saved? John frowned; he shouldn't let himself get introspective. It wasted time and he had another job to do. Just as soon as the pain let up enough for him to drive.
He slowly stood up from the counter and waited for his head to decide if it was a good idea or not but the pain seemed to be fading to a dull ache at last. He went to pay for his meal, glad that this time he didn't have to use a fake credit card. They were a necessity he really didn't like, and one he knew that Sam had always called him on. They were too easy to use, and stealing besides. Using them was a good way to end up in jail, but what else could be done when the money ran out? It wasn't like hunting things that went bump in the night was a paying job. ‘Ok, no more thinking about Sam,’ John told himself. He shuffled out of the diner and over to his truck. There was a hellhound pack loose in Arrow Rock, and he was sure it had something to do with the demon that killed Mary.