Name: Everyone Deserves the Chance to Fly
Rating: R
Pairings/Characters: Jack/Ianto, Spike/Buffy, Willow/Tosh, Xander/Anya, Martha, Owen, Faith, Angel, The Doctor, Mickey, PC Andy, Libby(OC) and other OCs who I can’t name without spoilers for the fic! And one other pairing that will probably make you lot want to lynch me.
Summary: Latest story in the
Magic and Mayhem series. Two months after the mysterious disappearances of Willow, Xander and Martha and the death of a member of the team, the gang are still reeling when someone unexpected appears from the TARDIS and darkness descends on the team when they find out about their friend...
Spoilers: Oh, everything from Torchwood and Doctor Who and the first six seasons of Buffy. Just ... everything, alright?
Chapter: Five: If it helps.
Master List Can be Found Here. Beta/Punching Bag/Ass-Kicker:
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, Doctor Who or Buffy or Angel or anything like that. So, yeah, just ... not mine. But I do own Libby! And I kinda own this completely cracked storyline that’s developing a life of its own and I’m becoming way too attached to.
Author’s Note: I apologise if this starts off a bit Buffy-centric. It’s necessary, I think. It’ll become more Janto-y in later chapters. Tosh (and Willow by association) also have a big part in this fic. But bear with me because this is the darkest most angsty thing I’ve ever written. And if you like certain pairings (Xander/Anya, Spike/Buffy, Willow/Tosh) you’ll be yelling “FIX IT!” within a few chapters. Forgive me, it won’t be fixed that soon. And some won’t be fixed at all... [Jen - She’s not kidding ya know!]
Again, sorry for slow posting. I've been busy ... well ... writing it.
Chapters:
Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Chapter 5
If it helps
Sunday December 21st
One Week Later
08:27
“It’s not her,” Libby announced through her earpiece. “Can I go home now?”
She’d been out looking at dead witches since half past four the previous afternoon and she was tired.
“Yeah, okay,” Angel said, sounding dejected.
Libby let out a thankful sigh and turned off her earpiece as she flipped open her phone and speed-dialled Andy.
“Another one?” his frustrated voice answered.
“Sorry,” she said. “Can you call it in?”
“Address?”
“Twenty-seven Moonbeam Road,” she announced.
“Another woman?”
“Man this time. Mid-thirties. Didn’t live here.”
“Again?”
“Again.” She sighed and crouched down. “Dead a while, too.”
“Another aneurysm you reckon?”
“Probably. Got the latest reports?”
“Yes, I have.”
“Bring them to my flat? I’m heading back now.”
“Alright.”
“Thanks, Andy, you’re a gem.” Libby snapped her phone shut and slipped it into her pocket.
08:39
It was morning - relatively early morning if she wasn’t mistaken - and light was filtering in through the large windows behind the headboard of the bed she was lying in.
She sat up and looked around her, pulling the quilt up over her chest as a reflex action, the same one she’d employed most mornings for the past week.
Owen came out of the bathroom in front of her, thankfully not naked, as she climbed out, reaching for her clothes. “Going home again?”
“Of course I am,” Buffy snapped. “I shouldn’t be here in the first place.”
“Admit it, I’m just impossible to resist.”
She let her head droop. “Do you have any idea how I feel about this?”
“No, I don't,” Owen admitted, walking over and sitting down on the bed next to her. “You obviously need something from me, otherwise you wouldn't be here.”
“I shouldn’t be here.”
“You already said that.”
She turned her head away, her blonde hair falling over her face and shielding it from Owen’s gaze. “I’m using you.”
“Yep,” he replied. “I noticed. I’ve been used before. I’m used to it.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
She reached for her jeans, her fingers grasping the material and pulling it towards her, still not exposing too much skin to Owen’s eyes. “I’m not complaining,” he said. “If it helps and I get a bloody good shag out of it.”
“Don't say that. You sound like Spike.”
“What?”
“‘If it helps’.” She sighed. “He knows I’m here. He can smell me on you and you on me.”
Owen blinked, stunned by the revelation. “Why am I not dead yet?”
“Because he loves me.”
“I see ...”
She rounded on him. “And I love him, too, Owen! I love him more than anything.”
“I know, love.” He brushed her hair from her face. “We’re all a bit screwed inside.”
“God, I have to be to be here now.”
“We make mistakes,” he clarified. “And when we’re done making them we learn and those relationships that don't get messed up in the process grow stronger.”
“I don't want my relationship with Spike to get messed up.”
“I get that. I do.”
“I’m tearing him apart inside. I can see it in his face when I get home. He hasn’t said anything. Won’t say anything. Ever. But it’s there. And I want to stop ... but then I hunt for Willow again ... and I don't find her ... or Xander ... and I find myself here because I feel something more than the pain of losing them when I’m here.” She was in tears.
He wiped her tears away and planted a soft kiss on her lips. “Why is that, do you reckon?”
“Because you’re outside the circle. Willow and Xander and ... God ... Anya ... they’re part of my life back in the other universe ... same as Spike ... I see Spike and I think of them. But you’re different. I see this universe in your eyes.”
“Logical, yet screwed up,” Owen said, with a smirk.
She let out a shaky laugh. “It will end,” she told him, firmly.
“All good things come to an end,” he replied.
She glared half-heartedly at him. “I have to go home,” she said.
“Yep, you do.” He cupped her cheek and pulled her in to kiss her.
“Now,” she muttered into his mouth .
Owen pushed her backwards, kissing her neck as the covers fell away. “Soon,” he told her.
“Soon,” she agreed.
09:54
“What’s with everyone being late at the moment?” Jack demanded as Buffy and Owen walked into the hub, together, not at all discretely.
“We were busy,” Buffy muttered, depositing her bag down on the table and shrugging off her leather jacket.
“We all know you two have been busy,” Jack snapped. “And I want to point out I don't approve.” Buffy and Owen looked away from each other, both colouring. “Everyone knows. Including Spike. I thought more of you, Buffy.”
“Oy, what about me?” Owen asked.
Jack snorted. “I knew you could do this.” He walked off towards his office then called back, “Buffy, come to my office at seven, I have another job for you.”
Buffy pulled a face in his direction, mouthing angrily, mocking him. Owen shot her a warning look and she stopped, flopping down on her desk as the cog door opened again and the proximity alarms went off once more.
“Just me!” Libby called out.
“Another late arrival?” Ianto quizzed.
“I was busy.”
“Busy how?”
Libby smirked at him. “None of your business.”
Ianto sighed and walked away as Libby sat down at her desk, pulling the file of information on the dead witches out of her bag and spreading the papers over the surface as Mickey approached. “What’s all this?” he asked, curiously.
“My special project,” she replied. “I can feel there’s something and I’m determined to find out what.” She rested her chin on her hands and looked at the papers closely. “What have they all got in common?”
Mickey pulled up a chair next to her and sat down. “They’re all women.”
She pulled a paper out from beneath the others. “Nope.” She pointed. “Man. Quite good looking too.”
Mickey nodded and shuffled nearer to Libby to get a closer look at the papers. “They’re all magically inclined.”
“Yep.” She pulled a blank sheet of paper, pulled the cap of a pen off with her teeth and scribbled that down. “They were all surrounded by herbs and other magical supplies when they died.” She wrote that down.
“None of them died in their own homes.”
“You’re right. Almost forgot that.” She moved down a line and jotted it down. “All the photographs were faked.” She pulled the photos out of an envelope nearby.
“All the same size.”
“Yep. You’d think they’d have the skills of an average Photoshop amateur and at least make it look authentic.” Mickey looked at her blankly and she tapped him on the head. “Thought so. It echoed.”
He rubbed his head, irritably, and glowered at her. “They all died of aneurysms.”
She wrote that down then pointed at it on the list. “Don't you think that’s a little odd?”
“Why?”
“I was, before I joined Torchwood, in university studying towards being a Doctor.”
“You were?”
“Yeah. Put that on hold to hunt aliens and almost be killed by Daleks instead and I tell you ... this many people don't die of aneurysms. Lots of people do, but not every witch in Cardiff four months after disappearing.”
A look hit Mickey. “You don't think that the travel through the rift is affecting them, do you?”
“What do you mean?”
“How long have these people been in this world?”
“Um, about four months longer than Buffy and her gang according to Tosh’s scans,” Libby replied. “Why?”
“What if the trip through the rift causes these aneurysms?” Mickey asked. “If after a length of time it kills them?”
“That doesn’t explain why they’re not in their own homes or why they’re just the witches. Why not the demons too or the humans.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t add up.”
“You’re right, it doesn’t.” Mickey leaned back in his seat. “Want a full time partner for your ‘special project’?”
“I have one, but always after another mind to put to work.” Libby grinned. “Not that you count.”
“Stop insulting my intelligence!” Mickey snapped, but he was grinning. “Who’s your other partner?”
“Andy. He provides me with the information.” Libby sighed and brushed her hair off her face. “This makes my head hurt,” she said. “I can’t work out what it is that’s wrong.”
“You’ll figure it out,” Mickey said. “We’ll figure it out.” He touched her shoulder and stood up.
“You’re right. We will.” She grinned. “Positive thinking.” She smirked at him. “Get me a coffee off Ianto, would you?”
18:57
“You wanted to see me?” Buffy enquired, coldly as she walked into the office.
“Yep.” Jack pushed Ianto off his lap, gently, and stood up, passing a file to Buffy. “Demon sighting. Apparently some demons and vampires have formed some sort of alliance against us. It isn’t too big yet so you need to go out there and stop them.” He handed her a stake. “Happy hunting.”
“You want me to do what?”
“Go out there, kick demon and vampire ass, then come back. Am I not making myself clear?”
“This is stupid!” Buffy threw down the stake and it clattered, noisily, across Jack’s desk. “You can’t expect me to go out there and slay like nothing’s wrong!” she yelled. “My best friends are missing and there’s nothing I can do!”
“Buffy,” Jack said, gently, catching Ianto’s eye for a moment, “I know you feel bad but if you don't go out there and do what you do best people will end up hurt.”
“Like Anya, you mean? And Willow? I was doing what I did best then but I couldn’t save them.” She blinked tears away angrily. “I couldn’t save them.”
“Buffy, it’s been three months. You need to stop beating yourself up over this,” Jack said.
“And do you stop beating yourself up over Martha? She’s gone, too, Jack, you need to accept that,” Buffy snapped, spitefully.
Jack swallowed. “I have.”
“Liar,” she snapped.
Jack looked helplessly at Ianto for assistance, but the Welshman was staring at his feet.
“Buffy, whether I’m a liar or not, I’m still the boss and I’m sending you out there to slay,” he said, firmly. “I’m the boss and you have to follow my rules.”
“Yeah, like fuck I do. I didn’t have to follow the council’s orders; I’m sure as heck not following yours.” She pulled her gun out of the back of her pants. “I quit,” she said, placing it down on the desk.
“You can’t quit,” Jack said, with a sigh.
“Watch me,” she snapped, turning around and walking to the doorway. She glanced back. “Faith’s just as good a Slayer as me. And if you have to RetCon me do it just ... don't let me forget my friends.”
“I won’t RetCon you,” Jack said, “but ...”
He broke off.
“Did you hear that?” Ianto asked.
“Where are my favourite girls?” Xander’s voice echoed through the hub.
Buffy’s eyes widened and she stepped out of the office, walking slightly towards the cog door. Xander was stood just inside. He looked relatively happy. Happier than Buffy and the gang, anyway.
“Xander?” she breathed.
“Hey Buff!” he exclaimed, walking forward to hug her. She stepped back. “What’s wrong?”
“Are you real?” she asked. “I’m not dreaming this?”
“I’m real,” Xander promised.
Buffy flung her arms around him, hugging him tightly. “God, Xander,” she whimpered into his shoulder. “I missed you so much.” She pulled back and punched him hard, sending him staggering backwards, holding his bleeding lip. “You idiot!” she yelled. “How could you abandon us?!” She launched herself at him again but strong arms grabbed her and pulled her back.
“Don't, pet,” Spike warned as she struggled.
Buffy went limp in his arms and looked at Xander. “How could you abandon us?” she whispered this time.
“I’m sorry.” Xander took her from Spike and wrapped his arms around her, holding her against his chest as she sobbed. He looked almost apologetically at Spike, his eyes asking what had happened and why she was like this. Spike averted his own and walked across the hub towards Tosh, who was staring wordlessly at Xander.
Out of hearing range she asked, “He’s back?”
“Yeah,” Spike replied.
“Then Willow might be next!” she exclaimed. “She could be next to return, right? Right?”
Spike touched her shoulder. “I don't know,” he admitted.
Tosh looked across the hub at Buffy and Xander.
“What’s happened?” Xander asked as Buffy pulled back.
She sniffed noisily, makeup running down her cheeks. “I ...How do I tell you?” Xander reached out and wiped away her tears, tucking her hair behind her ears.
“Just say it.”
“Everything went to Hell.”
“What?”
“After the funeral ... you vanished ... you just vanished. And then... Martha never arrived here. We never heard from her after the TARDIS dropped her off in London.”
“Martha’s missing?” Xander gasped.
“That’s not the worst of it,” Buffy replied. “Willow and Tosh were walking home and ...”
Xander looked across at Tosh, stood, looking distraught, alone, by the sofa. “Oh God. Willow.”
“We don't know what happened, Xand,” Buffy said. “Tosh says she told her to go home alone while she went back to the hub to get her phone. She never got here. We’ve tried tracing her, her mobile, her magical energy. We’ve even tried ...”
“What?”
“Looking at bodies of dead witches,” she said.
“And?”
“There’s nothing. If we didn’t remember her it would be like she never existed.”
Next: Chapter 6