Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Doctor Who crossover fic: The Last (6/7)
Title: The Last (6/7)
Rating: PG
Characters: Giles, Ten
Timeline: Post-"Last of the Time Lords" for Doctor Who and pre-season eight for Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Spoilers for season eight.
Summary: With demons threatening the safety of the planet, the Doctor turns to the one person he knows who can help: Rupert Giles. Can the two of them save the day without losing their heads?
Disclaimer: You know the drill. BBC. Joss Whedon.
A/N: Thanks again to quean_of_swords for the awesome beta. This chapter is post-"Enlightenment".
Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Five.
Dead leaves crunched underfoot as the Doctor tore through the Forest of Dean. A half moon hung in the sky, bathing the trees in a ghostly light. He could see well enough, well enough to avoid running into any low lying branches, but his assailant could see better and it wasn’t tiring at all.
He didn’t bother to look back. He knew the gap between them was slowly shrinking.
His right foot landed in a deep puddle and the sudden change from solid ground to intangible water threw him off balance. The Doctor reached out, hoping to find a tree to steady him, but his hands only found air and he fell to the forest floor. The mud around the puddle squelched beneath him and he could only imagine his tan coat was now a lovely shade of brown.
He was just getting to his feet when his assailant caught up with him. Unnatural green flames rose up from the palms of its hands, casting the area around them in an eerie light. The green fire danced in the reflection of the creature’s sunken black eyes.
“Now I don’t see why we can’t talk about this.” The Doctor scrambled backwards across the forest floor. He searched blindly for anything that could serve as a distraction but all he turned up was more dead leaves.
The creature turned its palms towards the Doctor, its hands completely consumed by the green flames. It brought its arms back, ready to send forward a firestorm.
An arrow whizzed through the air, striking the creature cleanly in the throat, but instead of a spray of blood, a shower of sparks exploded from the wound. The creature seized up and its arms fell to its sides.
The Doctor hurried to his feet but he only managed to make it a few steps before the creature’s systems overloaded and its head blew apart in a mighty explosion, complete with green flames. Fiery debris fell around him and he brought up his arms to protect his head. Smaller pieces of burnt machinery struck him in the back, but it was no worse than if he had been caught in a minor hail storm.
When the rain of wreckage ceased, the Doctor lowered his arms and he looked back over his shoulder. The creature was gone from the neck up. All that remained of its head was a few stray wires.
“Well, that’s one way to stop an android.”
“That wasn’t a demon?” He looked to the nearby shadows and a figure emerged, a formidable looking crossbow held in his hands. The Doctor expected to see an archer dressed in hunting leathers, but instead he was met with a young man dressed in jeans, a plaid shirt, a brown leather jacket, and worn hiking boots. The dying fires issuing from the android’s neck were reflected in the lenses of the man’s glasses.
A familiar face was the last thing the Doctor expected to encounter in the dense forest, but he was grateful for the random happenstance. He crossed the short distance between them and eagerly shook the young man’s hand. “Rupert Giles. Your timing is impeccable.”
Giles stared wordlessly at him for a moment. Then he pulled his hand free and he took a step back. “Of course it’s you. A robot posing as a demon. Who else would be involved?”
“An android, actually.” The Doctor started to put his hands in his trouser pockets out of habit, but he stopped short when he realized his hands were covered with mud. He looked down at his trousers and saw they were splattered with mud as well.
“You’re a bit off from the nearest cricket pitch,” said Giles, noting the Doctor’s outfit.
“Yes, I took a wrong turn in the TARDIS. We landed on an invading Mussor ship and I ended up here with the ground troops. My friends are still on board the ship.” He hoped Tegan and Turlough were all right. He had told the pair to return to the TARDIS but they rarely did as they were told.
“An invasion of robots? Androids,” Giles quickly corrected when he saw the Doctor begin to speak.
“Not quite. The Mussorians have integrated androids into their daily lives.” The Doctor wiped his hands on his jumper, staining the white wool. “They’re used mostly for menial labour but they can be converted into soldiers in a pinch. It’s impossible to tell the difference between real-life Mussorians and their robotic counterparts. Thank goodness you only shot a foot soldier.”
“Oh yes, I wouldn’t want to mistakenly shoot a demon who’s been terrorizing the countryside for the past week.”
The Doctor slipped off his coat and he handed it to Giles like he was a waiting valet. “The past week?” He pulled the ruined jumper over his head. “The Mussor ship entered this solar system an hour ago.”
Giles glanced at the coat he inexplicably held. “The Council started to receive reports of demons matching the description of your friend over there,” he pointed to the remains of the android with his crossbow, “last week. They were attacking campers and murdering livestock. A team of us are trying to round them up.”
“Interesting.” The Doctor approached the ruined android, regarding it thoughtfully. “Your demons must be the advance guard and now the mother ship is delivering more troops.” He draped the jumper across the android’s shoulders. “Mussor is nearly depleted of all its natural resources. They’re here to take Earth’s.”
He took his coat back from Giles and he tugged it on as he walked. A second past before the young man fell into step beside him. “Do you know where you’re going?”
“No, but that’s never stopped me before. Do you have a base camp?”
“We took over a farmhouse a few miles from here.” As he spoke, Giles pulled out a compass from his pocket and he consulted it by the moonlight. When he had his bearings, he steered them down another path. “The Council has this covered, Doctor. You can contact UNIT if you like, but we’re already mobilized.”
“You have the ground troops covered, not the ones on the ship. I need to get back there if you want to stop this invasion in its tracks.”
“From what you’ve told me, the ship is in space. How do you expect to get back there without your TARDIS?”
The Doctor looked over at Giles. He looked older now. He was no longer the scowling young man he first met all those years ago and the arrogance of youth seemed to be fading as well. Giles was well on his way to being a remarkable Watcher.
“Magick.”
“I thought you hated sorcery.”
He did. He could never banish from his mind the image of a gnarled old man with a white wispy beard dressed in dark robes every time he used the term. “It’s still a science no matter how you approach it. Your mages use words to manipulate matter. You can do the same with a well composed string of numbers. The result is still the same. In this case, teleportation.”
“All right, I can accept the concepts are similar, but you’re talking about reaching a destination thousand of miles away.”
“Major cities on your planet are thousands of miles away from each other. We’ll just be heading vertically instead of horizontally.” The trees began to thin out as they approached the road. A battered jeep was parked off to the side. The driver rested against the hood, smoking a cigarette. He didn’t hear them approach until they were nearly on him and when he did spot them, he lost his cigarette in the scrambled hurry to bring up his crossbow.
“Stand down, Langley,” ordered Giles. The young man gratefully dropped his crossbow. His lanky frame and longish haircut hinted at Langley’s youth, making it certain that he was a Watcher-in-Training. “Have the others reported in?”
The young man eyed the Doctor, his gaze roving his mud strained trousers and coat. “No, sir. You’re the first to get back.”
“Get in contact with them. I need the jeep so you’ll have to remain behind.” Giles walked around the jeep to the driver’s side.
Langley’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “Your hiker can get his own sodding ride back to civilization.”
Giles rounded around the jeep back to Langley in the blink of an eye. He grabbed the young man by the front of his shirt and pushed him back against the vehicle. “This hiker is here to help, so kindly show some respect. Radio the men, please.” The Watcher let go of Langley before heading back to the driver’s side of the jeep.
The Doctor watched the entire exchange silently. Giles hadn’t raised his voice or uttered any threats, but Langley look ready to collapse onto his knees. He knew of Giles’ darker past, but he had never seen the man intimidate someone so easily. But he had done it with words, not violence. The Doctor could almost consider the move admirable.
He smiled kindly at Langley as he entered the passenger side of the jeep. The Watcher-in-Training backed away as Giles turned the jeep around. They sped down the road, the headlamps their only illumination in the dark.
“Where are you now, within the Council I mean?” asked the Doctor.
Giles thought over the question. “I’m certainly not on the Council, if that’s what you’re thinking. I lead field teams when necessary, but I enjoy working with the Watchers down in the Archives.”
“You have aspirations to be a librarian.”
Giles laughed dryly. “I’d be the Watcher to the Slayer before that happens.”
Showing no inclination to follow the set speed limit, Giles reached the farmhouse in record time. Numerous vehicles were parked out front and the presence of a midnight black Rolls Royce told the Doctor at least one Council member was present inside the house. Good, he wanted to talk to someone in an authoritative position.
Giles led him around back to the kitchen. It seemed like an odd place to hold a conference, but five men were grouped around the kitchen table, pouring over a map of the area. The man at the head of the table was in his seventies, at least, and what remained of his hair was snow white. The Council member, for it was clear that was who he was, looked up when Giles and the Doctor entered the kitchen. His advisors stopped their jabbering when they noticed their leader’s attention was elsewhere.
They were all looking at him, the Doctor realized. With his clothes covered in mud it was a poor showing, but he had commanded men’s attention before while dressed like a hobo and a bohemian, so what was a little dirt? He walked over to the Council member and offered his hand. “Hello, I’m the Doctor,” he greeted with a smile.
The man ignored the offer of a handshake and he squinted up at the Doctor. “The last one had curly hair,” he said after a lengthy pause.
The Doctor put his hands behind his back. “That was my predecessor.” Or was he referring to his third incarnation?
The old man harrumphed. “You found him wandering the wood?” he asked Giles.
“Yes, sir.”
The Council member went back to his map. “Give him what he needs. Just keep him out of the way.”
Giles looked grateful to be dismissed. He practically fled from the kitchen. The Doctor caught up with him outside of the barn. “I’m not familiar with that Council member.”
“Harcourt and best leave it that way. The mages are inside.”
A few nervous horses were the only inhabitants inside the barn not currently engaged in a guttural chant. Three mages, one male, two female, sat in the middle of the barn with a circle of lit candles in front of them. With the TARDIS in orbit around Earth, the Doctor couldn’t make out what language they spoke, but it didn’t matter. He would be staying only long enough to get aboard the Mussor ship.
The mages stopped chanting, sensing there were other present in the barn. They looked up and one of the female mages with raven black hair spoke to Giles in French. He replied easily, stating why they were there.
The male mage burst out laughing. The remaining female mage rolled her eyes and she slapped him on the arm to get him to quiet down. Giles and the other female mage continued their conversation like nothing had happen and soon the Watcher was turning back to the Doctor. “They’re wondering-”
“6200 miles, give or take. They can use this-” The Doctor reached into his pocket and pulled out the TARDIS key. “-to determine the ship’s current position.” He repeated his instructions in French to the female mage and she appeared surprised to hear the language coming from his mouth.
“Why didn’t you talk to them?” muttered Giles as the mages prepared their spell.
“I didn’t want to show off,” replied the Doctor, keeping up a polite smile.
The mages argued for ten minutes about how best to achieve such a monumental teleportation but they soon settled on a technique they were certain would work. The Doctor hoped they were certain. He didn’t want to end up in the exosphere with no oxygen or worse, be pulled back down to Earth to be burned up in the lower atmosphere.
Eventually the mages set up a circle made up of various items including crystals, candles, and animal entrails. The Doctor viewed it all with a skeptical eye, but he still stepped into the circle as instructed. “Come along, Rupert. We don’t have all night.”
Giles had been patting the nose of one of the horses and he looked up sharply at the Doctor’s summon. “I’m not coming with you.”
“Nonsense. I’ll need a hand to disable the Mussor ship.”
“Your friends-”
“Could be anywhere on board. Now don’t just stand there. The ship’s moving out of range as we speak.”
With great reluctance, Giles joined him in the circle. The mages took up another chant in another unknown language. “You enjoy making my life miserable, don’t you?”
“You sound like a friend of mine.” The candles flared and the crystals glowed as bright as the sun. “Brave heart, Rupert.”
The barn disappeared in a flash of light.
Rating: PG
Characters: Giles, Ten
Timeline: Post-"Last of the Time Lords" for Doctor Who and pre-season eight for Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Spoilers for season eight.
Summary: With demons threatening the safety of the planet, the Doctor turns to the one person he knows who can help: Rupert Giles. Can the two of them save the day without losing their heads?
Disclaimer: You know the drill. BBC. Joss Whedon.
A/N: Thanks again to quean_of_swords for the awesome beta. This chapter is post-"Enlightenment".
Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Five.
Dead leaves crunched underfoot as the Doctor tore through the Forest of Dean. A half moon hung in the sky, bathing the trees in a ghostly light. He could see well enough, well enough to avoid running into any low lying branches, but his assailant could see better and it wasn’t tiring at all.
He didn’t bother to look back. He knew the gap between them was slowly shrinking.
His right foot landed in a deep puddle and the sudden change from solid ground to intangible water threw him off balance. The Doctor reached out, hoping to find a tree to steady him, but his hands only found air and he fell to the forest floor. The mud around the puddle squelched beneath him and he could only imagine his tan coat was now a lovely shade of brown.
He was just getting to his feet when his assailant caught up with him. Unnatural green flames rose up from the palms of its hands, casting the area around them in an eerie light. The green fire danced in the reflection of the creature’s sunken black eyes.
“Now I don’t see why we can’t talk about this.” The Doctor scrambled backwards across the forest floor. He searched blindly for anything that could serve as a distraction but all he turned up was more dead leaves.
The creature turned its palms towards the Doctor, its hands completely consumed by the green flames. It brought its arms back, ready to send forward a firestorm.
An arrow whizzed through the air, striking the creature cleanly in the throat, but instead of a spray of blood, a shower of sparks exploded from the wound. The creature seized up and its arms fell to its sides.
The Doctor hurried to his feet but he only managed to make it a few steps before the creature’s systems overloaded and its head blew apart in a mighty explosion, complete with green flames. Fiery debris fell around him and he brought up his arms to protect his head. Smaller pieces of burnt machinery struck him in the back, but it was no worse than if he had been caught in a minor hail storm.
When the rain of wreckage ceased, the Doctor lowered his arms and he looked back over his shoulder. The creature was gone from the neck up. All that remained of its head was a few stray wires.
“Well, that’s one way to stop an android.”
“That wasn’t a demon?” He looked to the nearby shadows and a figure emerged, a formidable looking crossbow held in his hands. The Doctor expected to see an archer dressed in hunting leathers, but instead he was met with a young man dressed in jeans, a plaid shirt, a brown leather jacket, and worn hiking boots. The dying fires issuing from the android’s neck were reflected in the lenses of the man’s glasses.
A familiar face was the last thing the Doctor expected to encounter in the dense forest, but he was grateful for the random happenstance. He crossed the short distance between them and eagerly shook the young man’s hand. “Rupert Giles. Your timing is impeccable.”
Giles stared wordlessly at him for a moment. Then he pulled his hand free and he took a step back. “Of course it’s you. A robot posing as a demon. Who else would be involved?”
“An android, actually.” The Doctor started to put his hands in his trouser pockets out of habit, but he stopped short when he realized his hands were covered with mud. He looked down at his trousers and saw they were splattered with mud as well.
“You’re a bit off from the nearest cricket pitch,” said Giles, noting the Doctor’s outfit.
“Yes, I took a wrong turn in the TARDIS. We landed on an invading Mussor ship and I ended up here with the ground troops. My friends are still on board the ship.” He hoped Tegan and Turlough were all right. He had told the pair to return to the TARDIS but they rarely did as they were told.
“An invasion of robots? Androids,” Giles quickly corrected when he saw the Doctor begin to speak.
“Not quite. The Mussorians have integrated androids into their daily lives.” The Doctor wiped his hands on his jumper, staining the white wool. “They’re used mostly for menial labour but they can be converted into soldiers in a pinch. It’s impossible to tell the difference between real-life Mussorians and their robotic counterparts. Thank goodness you only shot a foot soldier.”
“Oh yes, I wouldn’t want to mistakenly shoot a demon who’s been terrorizing the countryside for the past week.”
The Doctor slipped off his coat and he handed it to Giles like he was a waiting valet. “The past week?” He pulled the ruined jumper over his head. “The Mussor ship entered this solar system an hour ago.”
Giles glanced at the coat he inexplicably held. “The Council started to receive reports of demons matching the description of your friend over there,” he pointed to the remains of the android with his crossbow, “last week. They were attacking campers and murdering livestock. A team of us are trying to round them up.”
“Interesting.” The Doctor approached the ruined android, regarding it thoughtfully. “Your demons must be the advance guard and now the mother ship is delivering more troops.” He draped the jumper across the android’s shoulders. “Mussor is nearly depleted of all its natural resources. They’re here to take Earth’s.”
He took his coat back from Giles and he tugged it on as he walked. A second past before the young man fell into step beside him. “Do you know where you’re going?”
“No, but that’s never stopped me before. Do you have a base camp?”
“We took over a farmhouse a few miles from here.” As he spoke, Giles pulled out a compass from his pocket and he consulted it by the moonlight. When he had his bearings, he steered them down another path. “The Council has this covered, Doctor. You can contact UNIT if you like, but we’re already mobilized.”
“You have the ground troops covered, not the ones on the ship. I need to get back there if you want to stop this invasion in its tracks.”
“From what you’ve told me, the ship is in space. How do you expect to get back there without your TARDIS?”
The Doctor looked over at Giles. He looked older now. He was no longer the scowling young man he first met all those years ago and the arrogance of youth seemed to be fading as well. Giles was well on his way to being a remarkable Watcher.
“Magick.”
“I thought you hated sorcery.”
He did. He could never banish from his mind the image of a gnarled old man with a white wispy beard dressed in dark robes every time he used the term. “It’s still a science no matter how you approach it. Your mages use words to manipulate matter. You can do the same with a well composed string of numbers. The result is still the same. In this case, teleportation.”
“All right, I can accept the concepts are similar, but you’re talking about reaching a destination thousand of miles away.”
“Major cities on your planet are thousands of miles away from each other. We’ll just be heading vertically instead of horizontally.” The trees began to thin out as they approached the road. A battered jeep was parked off to the side. The driver rested against the hood, smoking a cigarette. He didn’t hear them approach until they were nearly on him and when he did spot them, he lost his cigarette in the scrambled hurry to bring up his crossbow.
“Stand down, Langley,” ordered Giles. The young man gratefully dropped his crossbow. His lanky frame and longish haircut hinted at Langley’s youth, making it certain that he was a Watcher-in-Training. “Have the others reported in?”
The young man eyed the Doctor, his gaze roving his mud strained trousers and coat. “No, sir. You’re the first to get back.”
“Get in contact with them. I need the jeep so you’ll have to remain behind.” Giles walked around the jeep to the driver’s side.
Langley’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “Your hiker can get his own sodding ride back to civilization.”
Giles rounded around the jeep back to Langley in the blink of an eye. He grabbed the young man by the front of his shirt and pushed him back against the vehicle. “This hiker is here to help, so kindly show some respect. Radio the men, please.” The Watcher let go of Langley before heading back to the driver’s side of the jeep.
The Doctor watched the entire exchange silently. Giles hadn’t raised his voice or uttered any threats, but Langley look ready to collapse onto his knees. He knew of Giles’ darker past, but he had never seen the man intimidate someone so easily. But he had done it with words, not violence. The Doctor could almost consider the move admirable.
He smiled kindly at Langley as he entered the passenger side of the jeep. The Watcher-in-Training backed away as Giles turned the jeep around. They sped down the road, the headlamps their only illumination in the dark.
“Where are you now, within the Council I mean?” asked the Doctor.
Giles thought over the question. “I’m certainly not on the Council, if that’s what you’re thinking. I lead field teams when necessary, but I enjoy working with the Watchers down in the Archives.”
“You have aspirations to be a librarian.”
Giles laughed dryly. “I’d be the Watcher to the Slayer before that happens.”
Showing no inclination to follow the set speed limit, Giles reached the farmhouse in record time. Numerous vehicles were parked out front and the presence of a midnight black Rolls Royce told the Doctor at least one Council member was present inside the house. Good, he wanted to talk to someone in an authoritative position.
Giles led him around back to the kitchen. It seemed like an odd place to hold a conference, but five men were grouped around the kitchen table, pouring over a map of the area. The man at the head of the table was in his seventies, at least, and what remained of his hair was snow white. The Council member, for it was clear that was who he was, looked up when Giles and the Doctor entered the kitchen. His advisors stopped their jabbering when they noticed their leader’s attention was elsewhere.
They were all looking at him, the Doctor realized. With his clothes covered in mud it was a poor showing, but he had commanded men’s attention before while dressed like a hobo and a bohemian, so what was a little dirt? He walked over to the Council member and offered his hand. “Hello, I’m the Doctor,” he greeted with a smile.
The man ignored the offer of a handshake and he squinted up at the Doctor. “The last one had curly hair,” he said after a lengthy pause.
The Doctor put his hands behind his back. “That was my predecessor.” Or was he referring to his third incarnation?
The old man harrumphed. “You found him wandering the wood?” he asked Giles.
“Yes, sir.”
The Council member went back to his map. “Give him what he needs. Just keep him out of the way.”
Giles looked grateful to be dismissed. He practically fled from the kitchen. The Doctor caught up with him outside of the barn. “I’m not familiar with that Council member.”
“Harcourt and best leave it that way. The mages are inside.”
A few nervous horses were the only inhabitants inside the barn not currently engaged in a guttural chant. Three mages, one male, two female, sat in the middle of the barn with a circle of lit candles in front of them. With the TARDIS in orbit around Earth, the Doctor couldn’t make out what language they spoke, but it didn’t matter. He would be staying only long enough to get aboard the Mussor ship.
The mages stopped chanting, sensing there were other present in the barn. They looked up and one of the female mages with raven black hair spoke to Giles in French. He replied easily, stating why they were there.
The male mage burst out laughing. The remaining female mage rolled her eyes and she slapped him on the arm to get him to quiet down. Giles and the other female mage continued their conversation like nothing had happen and soon the Watcher was turning back to the Doctor. “They’re wondering-”
“6200 miles, give or take. They can use this-” The Doctor reached into his pocket and pulled out the TARDIS key. “-to determine the ship’s current position.” He repeated his instructions in French to the female mage and she appeared surprised to hear the language coming from his mouth.
“Why didn’t you talk to them?” muttered Giles as the mages prepared their spell.
“I didn’t want to show off,” replied the Doctor, keeping up a polite smile.
The mages argued for ten minutes about how best to achieve such a monumental teleportation but they soon settled on a technique they were certain would work. The Doctor hoped they were certain. He didn’t want to end up in the exosphere with no oxygen or worse, be pulled back down to Earth to be burned up in the lower atmosphere.
Eventually the mages set up a circle made up of various items including crystals, candles, and animal entrails. The Doctor viewed it all with a skeptical eye, but he still stepped into the circle as instructed. “Come along, Rupert. We don’t have all night.”
Giles had been patting the nose of one of the horses and he looked up sharply at the Doctor’s summon. “I’m not coming with you.”
“Nonsense. I’ll need a hand to disable the Mussor ship.”
“Your friends-”
“Could be anywhere on board. Now don’t just stand there. The ship’s moving out of range as we speak.”
With great reluctance, Giles joined him in the circle. The mages took up another chant in another unknown language. “You enjoy making my life miserable, don’t you?”
“You sound like a friend of mine.” The candles flared and the crystals glowed as bright as the sun. “Brave heart, Rupert.”
The barn disappeared in a flash of light.