Origins - August 9
Twisted Shorts August Fic-a-Day Challenge - Day 9
Title: Origins
Author: hermione2be
Rating: PG/FR13/K+
Crossover: BtVS/Criminal Minds
Disclaimer: I do not own any of BtVS/Angel or Criminal Minds people, places, or ideas. This fiction is done simply for pleasure and I receive no profit.
Summary: A chance encounter brings more questions than answers.
Notes: Spoilers for Criminal Minds “Zugzwang” episode
Seasons: Post-series/Post-8.12 “Zugzwang”
Characters: Dawn, Reid, Morgan, Willow, Spike
Word Count: 1475
Dr. Spencer Reid hopped out of the car with the local sheriff.
“The town library should have that map you’re looking for doctor.”
They stepped out of the hot Oklahoma sun and into the library. He pulled off his sunglasses and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the low light.
“Sue,” the sheriff called.
“Right here,” said an older woman with gray hair as she stepped out of the office. “What can I do for you, sheriff?”
“Dr. Reid is looking for a few maps of the old city.”
Sue frowned. “There is a woman here who asked to go through those maps.” She pointed to the back of the library. “Unless she snuck past I believe she’s still back there.”
“Do you know who she is?” Reid asked.
“She’s part of a… IT or UC… I’m not certain.”
“Thanks, Sue,” the sheriff said and headed for the back of the library.
Reid adjusted his bag and tried to think who else may have been in on the case. He caught up as they entered a large room with an extra wide file cabinet on one wall. To the side was a chalk board that had clearly not been washed in a long time. In the center of the room was a table with multiple maps scattered about. Leaning over the table, back to them, was a woman dressed in skintight jeans and a dark blue tank top. He appreciated the roundness and symmetry of it. Her long brunette hair was thrown over one shoulder and the end of it brushed the table.
She stood straight, showing a phone attached to her ear. “For the love of hell! Buffy Anne Summers shut up!” She hit the table with the flat of her hand in irritation at the reply. “Giles, please remind my idiot sister that I am a linguist and geologist. I work for the IC because I want to. I have a dozen other offers a year.” She sighed at the reply. “Then let me get back to this and I’ll go home as soon as I’ve figured it out.” She groaned. “It’s hot, I haven’t had anything but diner food for a week and tracking this thing is nearly impossible. I don’t want help or any more calls for me to check in. I just want to get this done without another interruption. If you wouldn’t do this shit to Spike or Andrew or Willow - don’t do it to me.” She hung up the phone and slammed it on the table. “God save me from my family.”
She bent forward again looking at the things spread over the table. “Are you going to introduce yourselves or just stand there staring at my ass?”
“I’m Sheriff Miller. This is Dr. Reid from the FBI.”
“Rats,” she muttered and turned around.
Reid felt his entire world tilt. The hair was the wrong color, but her face was exactly the same. “Impossible.” His breathing shallowed and he felt his entire world pinpoint on one vital fact. Diane Turner was dead and had taken Dr. Maeve Donavan with her. Two years ago.
He blinked.
“I’m Dawn Summers with the IC,” she introduced herself and took a step closer offering the sheriff her hand.
It was still her, Diane.
He turned on heel and walked out of the library. He leaned against the side of the building. With a trembling hand he pulled out his phone and held down ‘4’ until it connected.
“Hey Reid,” Morgan answered cheerfully.
“You need to come to the library,” he managed in a calm voice.
“Reid,” his voice dropped an octave as he went serious. “What’s wrong?”
“I think-” he took a steadying breathe. “I think I’m losing my mind.”
“Ten minutes,” Morgan promised and hung-up.
Reid squatted down and focused on the ground. “I am not crazy. I am not crazy. I am not crazy.” The possibility had always been there. His mother… it had started simple enough had mental illness not been taboo they would have identified it earlier.
Was he seeing Diane because he still had so much guilt over not being able to save Maeve? Had he unknowingly come unhinged? Signs…were there signs? He forced his mind to stop and concentrated on his breathing. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.
“Reid!” Morgan’s voice some time later made Reid look up. “What’s going on?”
“The woman in the library. Just tell me what you see.”
Morgan hesitated for a moment, likely worried about leaving him alone. But he walked into the library. It was only two minutes later he walked back out.
“Are you okay?” Morgan asked.
“You saw it too?”
“Yeah, kid. But you know it’s not her.”
“I’m guessing I look like someone who died,” Dawn’s voice said as she stepped outside. “Either that or I have really bad B.O.”
“Are you adopted?” Morgan asked, standing to address Dawn.
“No.” Her face quirked slightly. “Why?”
“You are identical to a stalker-murderer we ran into a couple of years ago. Except your hair is lighter.”
“PTSD?” she asked gesturing to Reid. “Well I think I got what I was looking for. So I’ll leave you to pull him off the ceiling.”
And she got in her car and drove away.
88888888
1 Week Later
88888888
Reid entered Garcia’s office.
“Hey,” she greeted. “What are you doing in my den of electronics?”
“Did Morgan tell you about what happened during this case?”
The immediate sympathy in her face answered his question before she nodded. “Do you believe that everyone has a twin?”
“Given the infinite allele and recessive/dominant combination there are…”
Garcia waved him off. “Forget I asked.” She turned and typed something into her computer. She brought up several files and then started a search. “What did you find out?”
“Dawn Summers. Between 25-30 years old. Blue eyes, brown hair. She works for the IC. And her sister’s name is Buffy Anne Summers.”
Garcia typed in search parameters and they waited.
88888888
“What did you do?” Willow’s voice demanded as Dawn picked up the phone.
“Hi, Willow. Haven’t heard from you in a month. I’m doing great. And that case in Oklahoma almost kicked my ass, but I got it taken care of.”
“FBI are searching you and Buffy. Why?”
“There was an FBI agent… Reid. He saw me and flipped out. Apparently I looked like someone who did a lot of damage to him.”
“And Buffy’s name?”
“They may have overheard a rather obnoxious sibling spat.”
That seemed to cool Willow’s temper. “I’m back hacking them. Magically.”
“Yeah, we don’t want the IC on the list.”
“Well, damn,” Spike’s voice said in the background. “When did Bit color her hair?”
“That’s not Dawn. It’s some chick named… Diane Turner. She stalked a doctor and during a hostage situation killed them and herself.”
“Dr. Reid looked very alive to me.”
“I’m sending the file for you to read. Warning, pictures attached.”
Dawn opened her laptop and took a sip of her coffee. Willow’s e-mail popped up and she opened it. Her mug landed with athunk on the edge of the desk. “Holy crap. It’s me.”
“There’s more - look at her personal info.”
“Oh, fuck. Birthday, height, weight. Eyes.”
“Identical,” Willow confirmed.
Dawn put the phone on speaker and ran across the room to where her things were stacked. She grabbed a dark green box and pulled it over to her desk. She pushed her laptop to the edge of the table and dumped the box over on the table.
“All my research into my origins suggested that I was an organic copy of an existing specimen.”
“From Buffy’s blood,” Spike said.
“No - well, yes. But magic basically overrides genetics. If I was made from Buffy, I would literally be a mini-Buffy. But I’m taller, which even the men in the Summers’ family tree are shorter. I have blue eyes…” She sorted through some paperwork. “It makes sense if I was created from an existing 14 year old mold and then filled with Summer’s blood. It also explains where the pictures and memories of me as an infant, toddler, and pre-teen came from. They weren’t just constructs of magic; they were used from the existing mold and filled in where needed in the Scooby’s and my memories.”
“Fuck,” Spike said. “Willow pulled her prints.”
“And the IC’s copy of yours. Identical.” Willow said. “We need to make sure her prints are lost so that yours don’t come up as hers if you get arrested.”
“Well this blows,” Dawn sighed after a moment.
“You’re nobody’s copy, Bit. There’s only one you,” Spike told her.
“It’s not that. There was this really hot agent who came to check on Dr. Reid. And I can’t go near that now.” She took another sip of coffee. “So unfair.”