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My Immortal. Chapter 12.
Look - fic! With Scoobies! Enjoy. :) As usual many thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kathyh, my fabulous beta without whom I'd be very, very lost.
Previous chapters can be found here.
Summary: Captain Jack *is* The Immortal.
Pairing: Buffy/Jack.
Rating: PG-13.
Spoilers: S2 of Torchwood.
Genre: Crossover. (BtVS/Torchwood)
Word count: 5500 words approx.
Chapter 12
Willow: And there's sparkage?
Buffy: Yeah. He's— have you seen his arms? Those are good arms to have. I really like him. I do.
~
Xander: I totally get it now. Can I have sex with Riley too?
~
Giles: Buffy, I want more for you.
Saturday 1st of May. Late afternoon.
“So Suzie,” Jack said, leaning back in his office chair and casually admiring his portrait on the wall. Why weren’t leggings fashionable at the moment? He never got to show off his legs.
“Do you have any plans for May Day?”
Suzie snorted with derision. “Plans? Knowing Torchwood, we’ll probably be knee-deep in aliens that look like Morris-dancers or something equally ridiculous.”
Jack chuckled. “Believe it or not, but I remember that happening once. Thankfully Anstoans are a relatively peaceful species, and we had the means to fix their spaceship, so all in all it was quite a fun day. They communicate by dancing - trust me, you’ve seen nothing until you’ve watched a whole Torchwood team jumping around slapping their thighs trying to say ‘Have a nice trip home’ and managing to insinuate that... Um, nevermind. My point is, you have to stop being such a pessimist! Maybe you’ll get a bunch of Chippendale auditionees through the rift? Oh, and if that happens I want photos. And video. Actually - just lock them up and I’ll be on the next flight back.”
“Hmph. As if. What have you got planned by the way - excessive sun tanning followed by ravaging as many Italian goddesses as you can find?”
Grinning, Jack picked up a stake Buffy had left behind the night before, trying to balance it on his finger. “Truth be told... tonight I’m hosting a dinner party for a superhero and her family and friends.”
There was a short pause at the other end of the line, and Jack bit his lip.
“Her? Are we talking Wonder Woman?”
Bless Suzie and her incredible cynicism - she’d not believe him in a million years. He smiled. “Oh no, this one’s blonde, although she is American. And her best friends are a redheaded lesbian witch and a one-eyed carpenter.”
He could almost hear her rolling her eyes.
“Jack... no matter what your dreams are, I don’t think Hollywood is ever going to call. A psychiatrist might though.”
He pouted. “Suzie, you have no faith in me.”
“No Jack, I have every faith in you - especially when it comes to your outrageous imagination.”
He sighed theatrically. “Well someone has to keep morale up, Miss Workaholic.”
“And someone has to get the work done. Which reminds me - guess who called yesterday?”
He mulled it over for a moment. “The Prime Minister of Venezuela. They’ve discovered Torchwood 4 hiding in a capivara community.”
Now she was gritting her teeth. He really ought to stop, or poor Tosh might have a less than pleasant day tomorrow. Thankfully she took a deep breath and ignored his flippancy.
“None other than Miss Hartman herself.”
He frowned - why hadn’t she told him earlier?
“You are kidding! What did Queen Yvonne the First want?”
There was a pause - Suzie was obviously enjoying making him wait.
“She wanted to borrow our mind probe.”
“Did she now...” He dearly wished he could have taken that call himself - partly because he always relished telling Yvonne exactly where she could stick it.
“Well isn’t that interesting. What did you tell her?”
There was an unmistakably smug tone to Suzie’s voice as she answered.
“That she didn’t need a brain-probe to know what I was thinking.”
He burst out laughing, throwing his head back and slapping his leg.
“Oh Suzie! You are Wonder Woman!”
“Well you ought to know, since - as far as I can work out - you’re the self-proclaimed Wonder Man.”
He laughed again, fondly. Prickly and sharp and always ahead of the game, that was his girl.
“Suzie, Suzie, Suzie. Could it be that we are soulmates after all? Actually, can you imagine our children? They’d be unstoppable!”
There was a sudden warmth by his ear. “‘Could it be that we are soulmates?’ Should I be jealous here?”
He felt sure that his heart skipped a beat, and he whirled round (in as much as whirling was possible in the chair) and stared straight into Buffy’s mischievous eyes.
“Holy- don’t do that! Wait- How much did you hear?”
“Paranoid much?” she said drolly, at the same time as Suzie began bristling at the other end.
“For christsakes Jack, having a holiday fling is all well and good, but I sincerely hope you’re being a bit more careful than this.”
He rubbed his head. Women.
“You-” he pointed to Buffy, “out.” Seeing that she was about to speak, he held up his hand, index finger raised.
“My house, my rules. I can only cope with one domineering woman harassing me at a time, OK? I’ll be with you in a moment.”
She rolled her eyes and left, swiping the stake on the way, and he sank back in the chair, desperately trying to remember what he’d said.
“‘My house, my rules’?” Suzie echoed, incredulous. “Either you’ve found a total doormat, or she’s going to rip you a new one.”
“Oh it’s the latter,” he said, happily. “Looking forward to it actually, she’s... feisty.”
“Whatever. If she gives you the black eye you deserve, please send a photo, I need something to cheer me up. Do you need more retcon by the way?”
The implications in her words was hard to miss, and he shook his head silently.
“I’ve got plenty left, don’t worry.”
After he’d said goodbye he sat still for a moment, staring out of the window, his mind too full of thoughts to notice the view.
Buffy’s interruption had been a timely reminder of how carefully he needed to tread tonight. And what Suzie didn’t know was that in this instance there was no possibility of covering up any slips with retcon... these people would investigate any sudden memory loss with the utmost care, he was sure.
But that just raised the stakes, making the game more exciting. He better go find Buffy - if she was here, her friends should be arriving soon. It felt a little like Christmas, since he’d been very, very good and not ‘researched’ them at all - apart from what Buffy, Dawn and Andrew had told him, everything would be a genuine surprise.
He grinned and skipped down the stairs. Time to face the music... and dance!
***
Despite her earlier teasing, it was clear that Buffy was a bundle of nerves. Dawn was oscillating between being supportive and telling Buffy that it was hardly the end of the world - which earned her glares, but stopped Buffy fretting for whole minutes at a time. Andrew, displaying copious amounts of self-preservation, lurked silently in the background, as Jack promised for the millionth time too keep his flirting set to non-existent.
Then, finally, a taxi pulled up outside and there was a sudden flurry of hugs and ‘welcome’s and ‘how have you been?’s and ‘how was your trip?’s, interrupted only by Vittore’s silent acquisition of coats and luggage, to the guests’ evident bemusement. Jack hung back, watching and taking stock.
Willow was cute and quirky, and looked nothing like someone with the power to destroy the world - he’d have to keep an eye on her. Her girlfriend - Kennedy - was stunning and had obviously been handed a larger than average portion of self-confidence. Xander was quite the dish too, all tanned and rakish with his eye patch... and Jack wasn’t even allowed to flirt. Typical.
Still - he was the host, and that role was one he relished. Smile, charm and impenetrable mystery at the ready, he stepped forward.
The introductions went smoothly, and he followed up with the obligatory house-tour. Willow and Xander were rather awestruck at the size of it; unlike Kennedy who began inquiring about upkeep, staffing and security.
Jack raised an eyebrow.
“Can I just ask why exactly I paid for those plane tickets, Little Miss Loaded?”
Kennedy wasn’t fazed for a moment, meeting his eyes head-on.
“I figured that you’d be a relic from the age of patriarchy who would never allow a woman to pay her own way.”
He stared at her, jaw dropping - and then laughed so hard he could barely breathe, needing to reach out and steady himself on Buffy.
When he finally began catching his breath, carefully wiping his eyes, Andrew coughed politely.
“You should read his book,” he said casually, causing Jack to crack up again and Kennedy - and the two others - to look even more confused. Getting himself under control, Jack finally managed to adress her.
“My dear Miss Kennedy, you should listen to young Mr Wells here, he knows what he’s talking about. Trust me - I can guarantee that I’m not like any other man you’ve ever met.”
Seeing the scepticism on the young woman’s face, he leaned forward - far enough into her personal space that she’d get just a hint of pheromones.
“Let’s just say that I’m an equal opportunities kinda guy in every sense of the word - so get out of those metaphorical dungarees and flat shoes and just enjoy yourself, OK?”
He smiled widely, holding her eyes, and saw the telltale hesitation and uncertainty. Oh he was good, and he loved this game.
The rest of the ‘tour’ went by without any incident, and they ended up in one of the smaller sitting rooms where pre-dinner drinks were being served, since they had to wait for Giles whose flight had been delayed. And, as was often the case on such occasions, Buffy’s friends demanded to hear about how the two of them had met.
“...and - that’s it. Except I can’t go to that café anymore because the waiter keeps asking me about him,” Buffy finished, pointing to Jack.
“There was also the party!” Dawn added, and Jack grinned.
“Thought I’d won the jackpot - two girls for the price of one!”
“That is still not funny,” Buffy said drolly, and he pulled his best innocent face.
“I’m just saying - there’s plenty of space in my bed for two Summerses!”
He smiled his most winsome smile at Dawn, but she just rolled her eyes and made an ‘M’ with her fingers to remind him of Marco. Who of course would also be welcome... those leather trousers left very little to the imagination.
“So, incest is not a problem for you?” Xander asked lightly, clearly thinking the whole thing was only a joke.
Jack shrugged. “Not really. Dated these twin acrobats once...” he let a wide grin fill in the rest of the sentence, and Xander blinked.
“O...kay...” Willow said, doubtfully, but Xander shot her a droll look.
“Have to say, most guys have dreamt of that one. Were they blonde?”
Jack shook his head, happily casting his mind back. “Dark-haired. Extraordinarily limber. Wouldn’t mind a few more boyfriends of that variety.”
“Boy-friends...” Xander said dubiously, clearly unsure whether Jack was having him on or not.
Jack quirked an eyebrow, and turned back to Dawn, eyes narrowing.
“Although - to get back to the point - if I understood the story of how you came about correctly, it wouldn’t be incest but masturbation.”
He winked, and Dawn threw a hand over her mouth, eyes bubbling with outraged delight.
Buffy cleared her throat. “OK, I think you’ve fulfilled your ‘shocking-my-friends’ quota for tonight. Can we change the subject please?”
“Fine. We’ll discuss the finer point of decapitation instead, shall we?”
She mock-punched him, obviously beginning to relax, but then their attention was redirected.
“Mister Rupert Giles,” Vittore’s voice announced, and Jack turned, mentally reminding himself his role - polite, affable and correct to a fault...
And then stopped.
In the doorway stood a vision - or as close to one as Jack had seen in many years.
Abandoning the Scoobie gaggle without a thought, he walked forwards, warmly grasping Giles’ reluctant hand.
“Welcome, Mr Giles. It is a great, great pleasure to have you here.”
“Thank you for the invitation,” Giles replied stiffly, just as Buffy appeared at their side, smiling nervously.
Jack turned to her, trying his best not to let too much hurt seep into his voice.
“You lied to me,” he stated simply, and he could see the immediate confusion and alarm on her face.
“What?” she asked, as Jack reluctantly let go of Giles’ hand.
“You said ‘fatherly’. I was thinking... Oh, Stephen Fry, maybe with a dash of Paxman?” He stopped briefly, letting his eyes dwell on the Head of the Council of Watchers.
“Instead you’ve brought me Peter O’Toole. Vintage Peter O’Toole.”
For a few horrified seconds Buffy was speechless, then her jaw set and a deadly look came into her eyes.
“You promised-”
Holding up his hands to mime innocence, he cut her off. “I promised not to hit on your friends. I doubt that Mr Giles falls into that category.”
Then he grinned cheekily.
“Did I never tell you have a special weakness for Englishmen in suits?”
The man in question looked somewhat unsure at what was going on, but Buffy knew Jack well enough by now to have figured out where his head was at.
“Oh. My- I swear to God, if you hit on Giles I will walk out and never, ever return.”
He made a show of considering this.
“Would he make it worth my while?” he asked, carefully letting his eyes trail over the Watcher from head to toes.
“I beg your pardon?” Giles stuttered, his face a mask of shocked disapproval and his whole body tense. Jack couldn’t help following the lines of the suit - he could easily tell that here was a man still fighting fit and in prime shape. And wearing tweed.
“Immortal...” Buffy said in her most intimidating voice, and Jack sighed deeply in defeat, before catching Giles’ hostile eyes.
“I’m sorry. Really. Forgive an old man, overcome by nostalgia?”
Vintage Peter O’Toole did not look like he was in a forgiving mood, and Buffy was clearly contemplating banging her head - or probably his - against the wall, so Jack grabbed a tray from the sideboard and held it forward with as much apology as he could cram into his eyes.
“Please, have a drink? Dinner should be served in a few minutes and we can pretend this never happened. Deal?”
Helping himself to a glass, Giles gave him a long, inscrutable and bone-chilling look (his thoughts probably not fit to print), but Jack had lived through generations of Torchwood leaders with the exact same mien, and offered an unconcerned this-is-totally-not-awkward-smile in return.
Buffy was glaring daggers, and her friends were looking somewhat stunned, but he couldn’t find it in him to care all that much. If nothing else he’d unsettled the Watcher thoroughly, even though he’d used different means than planned. And he really hadn’t meant to cause Buffy grief, but damn. He’d thought men like Giles had died out years ago.
Then the ever-unperturbable Vittore announced that dinner was served, and everyone filed into the dining room, grateful for the diversion.
“What was that?” he heard Kennedy whisper, and smiled to himself as Dawn replied.
“Just The Immortal being himself.”
“Seriously?”
“M-hm!” was the confident answer.
As Jack held Buffy’s chair he caught Kennedy studying him and winked at her. The visit was already even more fun than he’d imagined, and they’d barely started yet.
Dinner soon worked its magic, making his young guests relaxed and talkative, and Jack found himself silently watching; all of them full of stories that would make most people boggle with disbelief, but for these guys mostly notable for unexpected mishaps or hilarity.
He could tell that they skirted around and over a lot of topics - things too painful, or awkward, to bring up - but even so they clearly enjoyed each other’s company, full of that genuine ease that only came with deep familiarity.
If he could have, he’d have wrapped them up and kept them forever, but he was thrown out of his thoughts when Xander addressed him.
“So, um, Buffy never mentioned that you’re American.”
Keeping as straight a face as possible, Jack swallowed the mouthful he was chewing, wanting to savour the moment.
“Why do you think I’m American?”
Xander frowned. “Well...”
Picking up his glass and leaning back in his chair, he let his eyes sweep over the table.
“I think this accent suits me - don’t you? I know it comes with certain connotations, but quite frankly they suit me too, so it’s win-win.”
He flashed a perfect pearly-white grin at them, and Willow’s eyes narrowed.
“So, what accent did you have originally?”
Chuckling he shook his head. “Oh you’re going to have to do a lot better than that. But no truth spells, Missy. No spells what-so-ever in this house, by the way, just in case Buffy forgot to mention it.”
She tilted her head, clearly eager to explore the topic. “So, you really don’t use magic?”
“Nope.”
“Like never? At all?”
“To the best of my knowledge, no.” He quirked a smile. “You know, I’ve actually thought of getting bumper stickers made: ‘Magic - just say no!’”
Willow looked rather taken aback. “But... why?”
Absent-mindedly he twirled his glass between his fingers.
“Where to start? Well, if you want the most basic reason - I don’t understand it. And, generally, I don’t trust things I can’t understand.”
Seeing that Willow wasn’t following, he leaned forward.
“Magic is very very powerful - it can, quite literally, change reality. But how? What is that power? Where does it come from?”
She was obviously not used to someone challenging the fundamentals of her world. “It’s... it’s just part of the world.”
He shook his head. “Not good enough. It works counter to the world, it breaks all the natural laws and I have yet to find someone who can explain to me how and why.”
The Doctor would know, he thought - would reel off a simple explanation full of long words, smiling that ‘It’s elementary my dear Watson’ smile of his. Although on the list of things to ask the Doctor about once Jack found him again, magic really came rather far down...
“Not to mention the fact that it’s dangerous,” he added.
Seeing that Willow was about to cut in, he held up a hand to stall her.
“I don’t object to danger. Guns are dangerous. Nuclear power is dangerous. Cars kill thousands every year. I think all three are excellent additions to the world. Actually - that’s the other point. Say what you will about technology, but it’s democratic.”
Seeing that she wasn’t following he pulled out his mobile phone and held it up.
“I’d take this phone over magic, any day. I can use it to call anyone in the world. It can take pictures. It’s connected to the internet so I can look up any information I want, or buy things... I can pretty much arrange my whole life with this one, simple gadget. And - so can anyone else. The technological revolution is world-wide, and it’s changing the world, connecting it, helping it move forward. Magic doesn’t. Magic is static, and only ever helps the few who can wield it. OK, so I get that it’s useful for fighting bad guys, but tell me one thing that magic has done in the last century that has improved life for ordinary people - the way, say, the washing machine has.”
There was an astonished silence around the table, and Jack smiled and picked up another forkful of food.
“Also, magic just plain freaks me out.”
He smiled at Buffy, and she smiled back, her earlier anger apparently forgotten. He figured that this was what she’d been hoping for when she’d agreed to the meet-up... a chance to show her friends that he was so much more than a rich playboy with a shady reputation.
To his surprise it was Andrew who finally tried to come up with a counter-argument.
“Um... you can, you know, combine magic and science, make them, like, work together?”
Well this was new. He studied the boy with interest. “You serious? How?”
“We... I mean back in Sunnydale, we... the Trio... we built this invisibility gun.”
“An invisibility gun? Really?”
He leaned forward - sceptical, yet curious. The invisibility shield on the Ettian ship was holding up surprisingly well, but even so he’d had to fix it twice, and he kept expecting it to suddenly fold and die. An alternative would be a godsend.
“Except it didn’t work,” Willow said, shooting Andrew a significant look.
“Did so!” Andrew shot back.
Buffy nodded. “I was invisible for most of a day. It was fun.”
A small smile crept into the corner of her mouth and Jack shot her a searching look, causing her to blush. Lots of things you could do when invisible... Oh he so had to get that story out of her at some point.
“But,” Willow cut through, in a very teacherly voice that was clearly used to winning arguments, “it made stuff turn into gloopy goo.”
“It was only a prototype,” Andrew protested. “We would have fixed that.”
Jacks' eyes narrowed - this sounded almost too good to be true. But it was worth a shot...
“Vittore! Fetch a large pad and some pencils.”
The butler reappeared moments later, bearing a pad and various writing implements. Jack - yet again - wished he could have a butler at Torchwood, but he knew that Suzie would laugh him out of the Hub if he suggested it.
“OK Andrew - do you think you could rustle up a blueprint for your invisi-gun?”
The boy startled, surprised. “Umm... maybe? It was Warren’s baby really...”
Willow looked speculative. “I saw your plans. Maybe we could do it between us?”
Andrew nodded, and Jack smiled triumphantly. This was the great thing about geeks of any kind - they got too carried away with a concept to stop and ask whether they should.
“Excellent!” he said, “get cracking. And don’t stint on the long, dull calculations.”
Willow shot him a guarded look. “It’s a little complicated...”
This was obviously her way of politely insinuating that it’d be way beyond him. Jack chuckled.
“Pretend I’m Einstein. There’s no point in doing anything by halves is there?”
Getting the rest of the table caught up in one of his more outrageous stories was easy work, which left his two magical friends free to work on the blueprint.
When they were finished he walked round the table and looked over their shoulders, taking in the design.
“Looks nice. I like big guns.”
Andrew fidgeted, ignoring his double entendre completely. “You don’t think it’s a little... retro?”
“Hey, I remember when retro was hip, don’t knock it!”
He followed the design with a finger, ending up in the power-centre.
“Can I ask, what exactly is that?”
Willow and Andrew shot each other a slightly guilty look. “A... mystical diamond.”
“Oh.” He known it had been too good to be true. A diamond would have been tricky, but doable. A mystical one on the other hand...
“It was one of a kind, right?”
They nodded, and he sighed, then caught Willow’s eyes. “That’s another thing - magic relies far too much on incredibly rare resources. I like stuff that can be fixed. Preferably with a screwdriver.”
Unless, of course, you got stuck in the wrong place or time without a sonic one, he thought sadly, as he contemplated his burnt-out wrist strap.
Then a thought struck him, and he turned to Andrew.
“How did you get hold of it by the way? It’s not exactly something you can just borrow...”
Andrew’s face broke into a barely contained proud grin. “We stole it.”
Jack raised an eyebrow, and Andrew elaborated, swiftly getting carried away. “I had this really cool outfit - just like Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible, with wires and everything, and we shot the guard with our freeze ray...”
“Freeze ray?” Jack repeated, delighted. “Did you have a bat-cave too? Latex outfits with masks? A teleport?”
Andrew wilted somewhat and Jack turned back to the paper. Even if it would never work, he was curious as to how they’d pulled it off, years ahead of the official science work. The Beta Max of invisibility.
Carefully going through the numbers he stopped halfway through, authoritatively tapping the paper.
“Here’s your problem! Look - you’ve not taken into account the destabilising effect of altering the surface structure, which causes a basic molecular instability. Easy mistake. If you...” he grabbed a pencil and a new sheet of paper, swiftly jotting down calculations, trying to reach back to his Agency training. He’d always been better at practical stuff than theory...
Studying the result he pulled a face. “That ought to do it, but it’s not ideal. I’m not used to working with magic, obviously, it throws the fundamentals...”
Voice trailing off he realised that both Willow and Andrew were staring at him.
“What? Do I have something on my face?”
“You... you really are totally Einstein-y,” Willow said, looking from the paper, to him and back again, looking as if he’d suddenly sprouted wild hair and a moustache.
He shrugged, trying his best not to smirk. “What, did you think I ended up where I am today because of my looks?” Then he chuckled. “Actually the looks really helped-” but Willow cut in.
“Hey, this isn’t a joke.” She turned to Buffy, almost accusatory.
“You never said he was a genius!”
Buffy shrugged lightly, only the tiniest bit smug. “He’s The Immortal. Haven’t you heard? He’s good at everything!”
At this Jack couldn’t help but laugh as he met Buffy’s eyes - she was brilliant at this, and he could tell just how much she was relishing the game. Oh he’d told her that it’d be fun to show him off.
Turning back to Willow he grabbed the blueprints and started rolling them up. “Would you mind if I kept these? I have a friend who’d love to see them.”
“Um... I suppose...” she answered, and Jack thanked her solemnly as Vittore spirited the papers away before she could think to object.
He’d been meaning to bring something back for his little team, and invisibility-gun plans would be just the thing for Tosh, even if faulty. It was doubtful that she’d be able to get the thing to work, but the fun was in the trying. And if she succeeded - well, it could certainly come in handy...
A while later, during dessert - in the middle of a heated discussion about cosmetic surgery (they were all against it, this century was so strange) - his Torchwood phone rang, and he had to leave to deal with an emergency. Thankfully he’d insisted that UNIT have people on standby in Cardiff, so all he had to do was direct Suzie towards the necessary procedures and make sure things went OK.
Still, he'd been absent for nearly half an hour by the time he returned to his guests, only to find that they’d all left the table and ventured out into the garden.
Watching the young people chat and laugh, lit up by strategically placed lights, Jack more felt than saw Giles walk up behind him until they were side by side, faintly reflected in the window.
“Is this the part where you ask me my intentions?” he asked lightly, and he could sense Giles’ slight irritation.
“Something like that,” was the cautious reply, and Jack smiled, not taking his eyes off Buffy.
“Well you’re seeing them right now.”
Giles shot him a look.
“Would you care to explain further?”
Jack shook his head. “Nothing to explain. I spoil her - she lets me. That’s it. In a little while our paths will diverge and that’ll be that.”
Giles’ scepticism was almost a physical thing between them. “You seem remarkably ready to let her go.”
Jack sighed, but figured that after his earlier... misstep, he probably owed it to Buffy to help put Giles’ mind at rest.
“Mr Giles - I am under no illusions. I’m just... what do the kids call it these days? The rebound guy. Don’t get me wrong, Buffy is one of the most remarkable women I’ve ever met, but this-” he waved a hand, encompassing the house and all it symbolised, “-is just a holiday for me. Having someone to share it with is great, but that’s all it is. God knows neither of us needs another tragically impossible love story in our lives.”
Giles seemed taken aback, but after a moment fastened onto the only non-Buffy related part of his speech, eyes sharp and inquisitive behind his glasses.
“You say this is a holiday. Away from what?”
Jack sighed. He should have seen this coming... Didn’t these people know that curiosity killed the cat?
“Oh, you know, the usual stuff - saving the world and all that jazz. Now more than ever, really. The 21st Century is when everything changes-”
He stopped mid-sentence, the familiar words in one exquisite instant taking on a wholly new meaning.
Staring out into the garden where Buffy - with Kennedy’s help - was demonstrating some sort of fighting manoeuvre (the finer points of decapitation?), questions that had plagued him for more than a century suddenly found answers, puzzle pieces fitting together in a perfect whole. For a moment he was utterly speechless, then he turned to Giles.
“You win,” he stated, still reeling from his sudden insight.
“Excuse me?” Giles replied, looking somewhat disconcerted.
“You - or the slayers, rather - you win. There are no vampires in the future...”
Everything would change - but it had started with the slayers. A whole army, all across the world... yes, it was possible. More than that even - it was probable, logical.
The vampires - the half-breeds - had always been a problem for him, ever since he’d first encountered them. Demons could in time assimilate - and most of them already did so, out of sight of general knowledge. A few more centuries, and they’d be fully accepted, their origins - whatever they might be - lost in the brightness of space and the teeming masses of extra-terrestial life.
But the vampires didn’t fit. There were plasmavores aplenty out there of course, but - as far as he knew - nothing like the living legends of today. And here it was - the reason that they were gone.
He smiled, pleased, but Giles appeared genuinely troubled, the stand-offish disapproval momentarily vanished.
“You are sure of this? That the vampires will be eradicated?”
Jack nodded. “To the best of my knowledge, yes.”
But Giles wasn’t so easily deterred. “Is this a prophecy? None of my sources mentioned that you were a Seer...”
Cursing himself for having said too much, Jack still knew that this might have been unavoidable. The way time looped round, causes and consequences only ever glimpsed in part, it was entirely possible that he, here and now, was helping create the vampire-free future he knew. Slowly he shook his head.
“I’m not a Seer. That’s... that’s not how it works. I just... know things. If you want my advice? You have an army of vampire Slayers - let them slay the vampires. Every last one.”
By the look on Giles’ face his words had apparently made an unforeseen impact, and he dearly hoped this would mean no more quizzing tonight. His mind was full enough as it was.
The vampires would all be dust... but so, too, would the slayers. 21st Century, everything changed - the slayers would change the world, and then die out, obsolete like magic. After all, what good was a stake against a sonic blaster? A sword against a particle gun?
Then Buffy burst through the doors, glaring at the two of them with her best no-nonsense look and very effectively ended his introspection.
“OK, why are you hiding in here?”
He grinned, easily covering up. “We were about to retreat to the library, to drink brandy and discuss world affairs, while you ladies amuse yourselves with whatever it is that women talk about. Maybe you could do some embroidery?”
“Still not funny! I think your sense of humour is broken,” she countered, taking his hand and dragging him out into the garden.
***
Life was good, Jack reflected.
His girlfriend was gorgeous, her friends were fabulous company, and her Watcher provided just the right amount of frisson to keep things interesting. They’d spend tomorrow traipsing around tourist hot-spots and then send them off Monday morning... what on earth had Buffy been so worried about?
Chapter 13.
kathyh, my fabulous beta without whom I'd be very, very lost. Previous chapters can be found here.
Summary: Captain Jack *is* The Immortal.
Pairing: Buffy/Jack.
Rating: PG-13.
Spoilers: S2 of Torchwood.
Genre: Crossover. (BtVS/Torchwood)
Word count: 5500 words approx.
Willow: And there's sparkage?
Buffy: Yeah. He's— have you seen his arms? Those are good arms to have. I really like him. I do.
~
Xander: I totally get it now. Can I have sex with Riley too?
~
Giles: Buffy, I want more for you.
Saturday 1st of May. Late afternoon.
“So Suzie,” Jack said, leaning back in his office chair and casually admiring his portrait on the wall. Why weren’t leggings fashionable at the moment? He never got to show off his legs.
“Do you have any plans for May Day?”
Suzie snorted with derision. “Plans? Knowing Torchwood, we’ll probably be knee-deep in aliens that look like Morris-dancers or something equally ridiculous.”
Jack chuckled. “Believe it or not, but I remember that happening once. Thankfully Anstoans are a relatively peaceful species, and we had the means to fix their spaceship, so all in all it was quite a fun day. They communicate by dancing - trust me, you’ve seen nothing until you’ve watched a whole Torchwood team jumping around slapping their thighs trying to say ‘Have a nice trip home’ and managing to insinuate that... Um, nevermind. My point is, you have to stop being such a pessimist! Maybe you’ll get a bunch of Chippendale auditionees through the rift? Oh, and if that happens I want photos. And video. Actually - just lock them up and I’ll be on the next flight back.”
“Hmph. As if. What have you got planned by the way - excessive sun tanning followed by ravaging as many Italian goddesses as you can find?”
Grinning, Jack picked up a stake Buffy had left behind the night before, trying to balance it on his finger. “Truth be told... tonight I’m hosting a dinner party for a superhero and her family and friends.”
There was a short pause at the other end of the line, and Jack bit his lip.
“Her? Are we talking Wonder Woman?”
Bless Suzie and her incredible cynicism - she’d not believe him in a million years. He smiled. “Oh no, this one’s blonde, although she is American. And her best friends are a redheaded lesbian witch and a one-eyed carpenter.”
He could almost hear her rolling her eyes.
“Jack... no matter what your dreams are, I don’t think Hollywood is ever going to call. A psychiatrist might though.”
He pouted. “Suzie, you have no faith in me.”
“No Jack, I have every faith in you - especially when it comes to your outrageous imagination.”
He sighed theatrically. “Well someone has to keep morale up, Miss Workaholic.”
“And someone has to get the work done. Which reminds me - guess who called yesterday?”
He mulled it over for a moment. “The Prime Minister of Venezuela. They’ve discovered Torchwood 4 hiding in a capivara community.”
Now she was gritting her teeth. He really ought to stop, or poor Tosh might have a less than pleasant day tomorrow. Thankfully she took a deep breath and ignored his flippancy.
“None other than Miss Hartman herself.”
He frowned - why hadn’t she told him earlier?
“You are kidding! What did Queen Yvonne the First want?”
There was a pause - Suzie was obviously enjoying making him wait.
“She wanted to borrow our mind probe.”
“Did she now...” He dearly wished he could have taken that call himself - partly because he always relished telling Yvonne exactly where she could stick it.
“Well isn’t that interesting. What did you tell her?”
There was an unmistakably smug tone to Suzie’s voice as she answered.
“That she didn’t need a brain-probe to know what I was thinking.”
He burst out laughing, throwing his head back and slapping his leg.
“Oh Suzie! You are Wonder Woman!”
“Well you ought to know, since - as far as I can work out - you’re the self-proclaimed Wonder Man.”
He laughed again, fondly. Prickly and sharp and always ahead of the game, that was his girl.
“Suzie, Suzie, Suzie. Could it be that we are soulmates after all? Actually, can you imagine our children? They’d be unstoppable!”
There was a sudden warmth by his ear. “‘Could it be that we are soulmates?’ Should I be jealous here?”
He felt sure that his heart skipped a beat, and he whirled round (in as much as whirling was possible in the chair) and stared straight into Buffy’s mischievous eyes.
“Holy- don’t do that! Wait- How much did you hear?”
“Paranoid much?” she said drolly, at the same time as Suzie began bristling at the other end.
“For christsakes Jack, having a holiday fling is all well and good, but I sincerely hope you’re being a bit more careful than this.”
He rubbed his head. Women.
“You-” he pointed to Buffy, “out.” Seeing that she was about to speak, he held up his hand, index finger raised.
“My house, my rules. I can only cope with one domineering woman harassing me at a time, OK? I’ll be with you in a moment.”
She rolled her eyes and left, swiping the stake on the way, and he sank back in the chair, desperately trying to remember what he’d said.
“‘My house, my rules’?” Suzie echoed, incredulous. “Either you’ve found a total doormat, or she’s going to rip you a new one.”
“Oh it’s the latter,” he said, happily. “Looking forward to it actually, she’s... feisty.”
“Whatever. If she gives you the black eye you deserve, please send a photo, I need something to cheer me up. Do you need more retcon by the way?”
The implications in her words was hard to miss, and he shook his head silently.
“I’ve got plenty left, don’t worry.”
After he’d said goodbye he sat still for a moment, staring out of the window, his mind too full of thoughts to notice the view.
Buffy’s interruption had been a timely reminder of how carefully he needed to tread tonight. And what Suzie didn’t know was that in this instance there was no possibility of covering up any slips with retcon... these people would investigate any sudden memory loss with the utmost care, he was sure.
But that just raised the stakes, making the game more exciting. He better go find Buffy - if she was here, her friends should be arriving soon. It felt a little like Christmas, since he’d been very, very good and not ‘researched’ them at all - apart from what Buffy, Dawn and Andrew had told him, everything would be a genuine surprise.
He grinned and skipped down the stairs. Time to face the music... and dance!
Despite her earlier teasing, it was clear that Buffy was a bundle of nerves. Dawn was oscillating between being supportive and telling Buffy that it was hardly the end of the world - which earned her glares, but stopped Buffy fretting for whole minutes at a time. Andrew, displaying copious amounts of self-preservation, lurked silently in the background, as Jack promised for the millionth time too keep his flirting set to non-existent.
Then, finally, a taxi pulled up outside and there was a sudden flurry of hugs and ‘welcome’s and ‘how have you been?’s and ‘how was your trip?’s, interrupted only by Vittore’s silent acquisition of coats and luggage, to the guests’ evident bemusement. Jack hung back, watching and taking stock.
Willow was cute and quirky, and looked nothing like someone with the power to destroy the world - he’d have to keep an eye on her. Her girlfriend - Kennedy - was stunning and had obviously been handed a larger than average portion of self-confidence. Xander was quite the dish too, all tanned and rakish with his eye patch... and Jack wasn’t even allowed to flirt. Typical.
Still - he was the host, and that role was one he relished. Smile, charm and impenetrable mystery at the ready, he stepped forward.
The introductions went smoothly, and he followed up with the obligatory house-tour. Willow and Xander were rather awestruck at the size of it; unlike Kennedy who began inquiring about upkeep, staffing and security.
Jack raised an eyebrow.
“Can I just ask why exactly I paid for those plane tickets, Little Miss Loaded?”
Kennedy wasn’t fazed for a moment, meeting his eyes head-on.
“I figured that you’d be a relic from the age of patriarchy who would never allow a woman to pay her own way.”
He stared at her, jaw dropping - and then laughed so hard he could barely breathe, needing to reach out and steady himself on Buffy.
When he finally began catching his breath, carefully wiping his eyes, Andrew coughed politely.
“You should read his book,” he said casually, causing Jack to crack up again and Kennedy - and the two others - to look even more confused. Getting himself under control, Jack finally managed to adress her.
“My dear Miss Kennedy, you should listen to young Mr Wells here, he knows what he’s talking about. Trust me - I can guarantee that I’m not like any other man you’ve ever met.”
Seeing the scepticism on the young woman’s face, he leaned forward - far enough into her personal space that she’d get just a hint of pheromones.
“Let’s just say that I’m an equal opportunities kinda guy in every sense of the word - so get out of those metaphorical dungarees and flat shoes and just enjoy yourself, OK?”
He smiled widely, holding her eyes, and saw the telltale hesitation and uncertainty. Oh he was good, and he loved this game.
The rest of the ‘tour’ went by without any incident, and they ended up in one of the smaller sitting rooms where pre-dinner drinks were being served, since they had to wait for Giles whose flight had been delayed. And, as was often the case on such occasions, Buffy’s friends demanded to hear about how the two of them had met.
“...and - that’s it. Except I can’t go to that café anymore because the waiter keeps asking me about him,” Buffy finished, pointing to Jack.
“There was also the party!” Dawn added, and Jack grinned.
“Thought I’d won the jackpot - two girls for the price of one!”
“That is still not funny,” Buffy said drolly, and he pulled his best innocent face.
“I’m just saying - there’s plenty of space in my bed for two Summerses!”
He smiled his most winsome smile at Dawn, but she just rolled her eyes and made an ‘M’ with her fingers to remind him of Marco. Who of course would also be welcome... those leather trousers left very little to the imagination.
“So, incest is not a problem for you?” Xander asked lightly, clearly thinking the whole thing was only a joke.
Jack shrugged. “Not really. Dated these twin acrobats once...” he let a wide grin fill in the rest of the sentence, and Xander blinked.
“O...kay...” Willow said, doubtfully, but Xander shot her a droll look.
“Have to say, most guys have dreamt of that one. Were they blonde?”
Jack shook his head, happily casting his mind back. “Dark-haired. Extraordinarily limber. Wouldn’t mind a few more boyfriends of that variety.”
“Boy-friends...” Xander said dubiously, clearly unsure whether Jack was having him on or not.
Jack quirked an eyebrow, and turned back to Dawn, eyes narrowing.
“Although - to get back to the point - if I understood the story of how you came about correctly, it wouldn’t be incest but masturbation.”
He winked, and Dawn threw a hand over her mouth, eyes bubbling with outraged delight.
Buffy cleared her throat. “OK, I think you’ve fulfilled your ‘shocking-my-friends’ quota for tonight. Can we change the subject please?”
“Fine. We’ll discuss the finer point of decapitation instead, shall we?”
She mock-punched him, obviously beginning to relax, but then their attention was redirected.
“Mister Rupert Giles,” Vittore’s voice announced, and Jack turned, mentally reminding himself his role - polite, affable and correct to a fault...
And then stopped.
In the doorway stood a vision - or as close to one as Jack had seen in many years.
Abandoning the Scoobie gaggle without a thought, he walked forwards, warmly grasping Giles’ reluctant hand.
“Welcome, Mr Giles. It is a great, great pleasure to have you here.”
“Thank you for the invitation,” Giles replied stiffly, just as Buffy appeared at their side, smiling nervously.
Jack turned to her, trying his best not to let too much hurt seep into his voice.
“You lied to me,” he stated simply, and he could see the immediate confusion and alarm on her face.
“What?” she asked, as Jack reluctantly let go of Giles’ hand.
“You said ‘fatherly’. I was thinking... Oh, Stephen Fry, maybe with a dash of Paxman?” He stopped briefly, letting his eyes dwell on the Head of the Council of Watchers.
“Instead you’ve brought me Peter O’Toole. Vintage Peter O’Toole.”
For a few horrified seconds Buffy was speechless, then her jaw set and a deadly look came into her eyes.
“You promised-”
Holding up his hands to mime innocence, he cut her off. “I promised not to hit on your friends. I doubt that Mr Giles falls into that category.”
Then he grinned cheekily.
“Did I never tell you have a special weakness for Englishmen in suits?”
The man in question looked somewhat unsure at what was going on, but Buffy knew Jack well enough by now to have figured out where his head was at.
“Oh. My- I swear to God, if you hit on Giles I will walk out and never, ever return.”
He made a show of considering this.
“Would he make it worth my while?” he asked, carefully letting his eyes trail over the Watcher from head to toes.
“I beg your pardon?” Giles stuttered, his face a mask of shocked disapproval and his whole body tense. Jack couldn’t help following the lines of the suit - he could easily tell that here was a man still fighting fit and in prime shape. And wearing tweed.
“Immortal...” Buffy said in her most intimidating voice, and Jack sighed deeply in defeat, before catching Giles’ hostile eyes.
“I’m sorry. Really. Forgive an old man, overcome by nostalgia?”
Vintage Peter O’Toole did not look like he was in a forgiving mood, and Buffy was clearly contemplating banging her head - or probably his - against the wall, so Jack grabbed a tray from the sideboard and held it forward with as much apology as he could cram into his eyes.
“Please, have a drink? Dinner should be served in a few minutes and we can pretend this never happened. Deal?”
Helping himself to a glass, Giles gave him a long, inscrutable and bone-chilling look (his thoughts probably not fit to print), but Jack had lived through generations of Torchwood leaders with the exact same mien, and offered an unconcerned this-is-totally-not-awkward-smile in return.
Buffy was glaring daggers, and her friends were looking somewhat stunned, but he couldn’t find it in him to care all that much. If nothing else he’d unsettled the Watcher thoroughly, even though he’d used different means than planned. And he really hadn’t meant to cause Buffy grief, but damn. He’d thought men like Giles had died out years ago.
Then the ever-unperturbable Vittore announced that dinner was served, and everyone filed into the dining room, grateful for the diversion.
“What was that?” he heard Kennedy whisper, and smiled to himself as Dawn replied.
“Just The Immortal being himself.”
“Seriously?”
“M-hm!” was the confident answer.
As Jack held Buffy’s chair he caught Kennedy studying him and winked at her. The visit was already even more fun than he’d imagined, and they’d barely started yet.
Dinner soon worked its magic, making his young guests relaxed and talkative, and Jack found himself silently watching; all of them full of stories that would make most people boggle with disbelief, but for these guys mostly notable for unexpected mishaps or hilarity.
He could tell that they skirted around and over a lot of topics - things too painful, or awkward, to bring up - but even so they clearly enjoyed each other’s company, full of that genuine ease that only came with deep familiarity.
If he could have, he’d have wrapped them up and kept them forever, but he was thrown out of his thoughts when Xander addressed him.
“So, um, Buffy never mentioned that you’re American.”
Keeping as straight a face as possible, Jack swallowed the mouthful he was chewing, wanting to savour the moment.
“Why do you think I’m American?”
Xander frowned. “Well...”
Picking up his glass and leaning back in his chair, he let his eyes sweep over the table.
“I think this accent suits me - don’t you? I know it comes with certain connotations, but quite frankly they suit me too, so it’s win-win.”
He flashed a perfect pearly-white grin at them, and Willow’s eyes narrowed.
“So, what accent did you have originally?”
Chuckling he shook his head. “Oh you’re going to have to do a lot better than that. But no truth spells, Missy. No spells what-so-ever in this house, by the way, just in case Buffy forgot to mention it.”
She tilted her head, clearly eager to explore the topic. “So, you really don’t use magic?”
“Nope.”
“Like never? At all?”
“To the best of my knowledge, no.” He quirked a smile. “You know, I’ve actually thought of getting bumper stickers made: ‘Magic - just say no!’”
Willow looked rather taken aback. “But... why?”
Absent-mindedly he twirled his glass between his fingers.
“Where to start? Well, if you want the most basic reason - I don’t understand it. And, generally, I don’t trust things I can’t understand.”
Seeing that Willow wasn’t following, he leaned forward.
“Magic is very very powerful - it can, quite literally, change reality. But how? What is that power? Where does it come from?”
She was obviously not used to someone challenging the fundamentals of her world. “It’s... it’s just part of the world.”
He shook his head. “Not good enough. It works counter to the world, it breaks all the natural laws and I have yet to find someone who can explain to me how and why.”
The Doctor would know, he thought - would reel off a simple explanation full of long words, smiling that ‘It’s elementary my dear Watson’ smile of his. Although on the list of things to ask the Doctor about once Jack found him again, magic really came rather far down...
“Not to mention the fact that it’s dangerous,” he added.
Seeing that Willow was about to cut in, he held up a hand to stall her.
“I don’t object to danger. Guns are dangerous. Nuclear power is dangerous. Cars kill thousands every year. I think all three are excellent additions to the world. Actually - that’s the other point. Say what you will about technology, but it’s democratic.”
Seeing that she wasn’t following he pulled out his mobile phone and held it up.
“I’d take this phone over magic, any day. I can use it to call anyone in the world. It can take pictures. It’s connected to the internet so I can look up any information I want, or buy things... I can pretty much arrange my whole life with this one, simple gadget. And - so can anyone else. The technological revolution is world-wide, and it’s changing the world, connecting it, helping it move forward. Magic doesn’t. Magic is static, and only ever helps the few who can wield it. OK, so I get that it’s useful for fighting bad guys, but tell me one thing that magic has done in the last century that has improved life for ordinary people - the way, say, the washing machine has.”
There was an astonished silence around the table, and Jack smiled and picked up another forkful of food.
“Also, magic just plain freaks me out.”
He smiled at Buffy, and she smiled back, her earlier anger apparently forgotten. He figured that this was what she’d been hoping for when she’d agreed to the meet-up... a chance to show her friends that he was so much more than a rich playboy with a shady reputation.
To his surprise it was Andrew who finally tried to come up with a counter-argument.
“Um... you can, you know, combine magic and science, make them, like, work together?”
Well this was new. He studied the boy with interest. “You serious? How?”
“We... I mean back in Sunnydale, we... the Trio... we built this invisibility gun.”
“An invisibility gun? Really?”
He leaned forward - sceptical, yet curious. The invisibility shield on the Ettian ship was holding up surprisingly well, but even so he’d had to fix it twice, and he kept expecting it to suddenly fold and die. An alternative would be a godsend.
“Except it didn’t work,” Willow said, shooting Andrew a significant look.
“Did so!” Andrew shot back.
Buffy nodded. “I was invisible for most of a day. It was fun.”
A small smile crept into the corner of her mouth and Jack shot her a searching look, causing her to blush. Lots of things you could do when invisible... Oh he so had to get that story out of her at some point.
“But,” Willow cut through, in a very teacherly voice that was clearly used to winning arguments, “it made stuff turn into gloopy goo.”
“It was only a prototype,” Andrew protested. “We would have fixed that.”
Jacks' eyes narrowed - this sounded almost too good to be true. But it was worth a shot...
“Vittore! Fetch a large pad and some pencils.”
The butler reappeared moments later, bearing a pad and various writing implements. Jack - yet again - wished he could have a butler at Torchwood, but he knew that Suzie would laugh him out of the Hub if he suggested it.
“OK Andrew - do you think you could rustle up a blueprint for your invisi-gun?”
The boy startled, surprised. “Umm... maybe? It was Warren’s baby really...”
Willow looked speculative. “I saw your plans. Maybe we could do it between us?”
Andrew nodded, and Jack smiled triumphantly. This was the great thing about geeks of any kind - they got too carried away with a concept to stop and ask whether they should.
“Excellent!” he said, “get cracking. And don’t stint on the long, dull calculations.”
Willow shot him a guarded look. “It’s a little complicated...”
This was obviously her way of politely insinuating that it’d be way beyond him. Jack chuckled.
“Pretend I’m Einstein. There’s no point in doing anything by halves is there?”
Getting the rest of the table caught up in one of his more outrageous stories was easy work, which left his two magical friends free to work on the blueprint.
When they were finished he walked round the table and looked over their shoulders, taking in the design.
“Looks nice. I like big guns.”
Andrew fidgeted, ignoring his double entendre completely. “You don’t think it’s a little... retro?”
“Hey, I remember when retro was hip, don’t knock it!”
He followed the design with a finger, ending up in the power-centre.
“Can I ask, what exactly is that?”
Willow and Andrew shot each other a slightly guilty look. “A... mystical diamond.”
“Oh.” He known it had been too good to be true. A diamond would have been tricky, but doable. A mystical one on the other hand...
“It was one of a kind, right?”
They nodded, and he sighed, then caught Willow’s eyes. “That’s another thing - magic relies far too much on incredibly rare resources. I like stuff that can be fixed. Preferably with a screwdriver.”
Unless, of course, you got stuck in the wrong place or time without a sonic one, he thought sadly, as he contemplated his burnt-out wrist strap.
Then a thought struck him, and he turned to Andrew.
“How did you get hold of it by the way? It’s not exactly something you can just borrow...”
Andrew’s face broke into a barely contained proud grin. “We stole it.”
Jack raised an eyebrow, and Andrew elaborated, swiftly getting carried away. “I had this really cool outfit - just like Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible, with wires and everything, and we shot the guard with our freeze ray...”
“Freeze ray?” Jack repeated, delighted. “Did you have a bat-cave too? Latex outfits with masks? A teleport?”
Andrew wilted somewhat and Jack turned back to the paper. Even if it would never work, he was curious as to how they’d pulled it off, years ahead of the official science work. The Beta Max of invisibility.
Carefully going through the numbers he stopped halfway through, authoritatively tapping the paper.
“Here’s your problem! Look - you’ve not taken into account the destabilising effect of altering the surface structure, which causes a basic molecular instability. Easy mistake. If you...” he grabbed a pencil and a new sheet of paper, swiftly jotting down calculations, trying to reach back to his Agency training. He’d always been better at practical stuff than theory...
Studying the result he pulled a face. “That ought to do it, but it’s not ideal. I’m not used to working with magic, obviously, it throws the fundamentals...”
Voice trailing off he realised that both Willow and Andrew were staring at him.
“What? Do I have something on my face?”
“You... you really are totally Einstein-y,” Willow said, looking from the paper, to him and back again, looking as if he’d suddenly sprouted wild hair and a moustache.
He shrugged, trying his best not to smirk. “What, did you think I ended up where I am today because of my looks?” Then he chuckled. “Actually the looks really helped-” but Willow cut in.
“Hey, this isn’t a joke.” She turned to Buffy, almost accusatory.
“You never said he was a genius!”
Buffy shrugged lightly, only the tiniest bit smug. “He’s The Immortal. Haven’t you heard? He’s good at everything!”
At this Jack couldn’t help but laugh as he met Buffy’s eyes - she was brilliant at this, and he could tell just how much she was relishing the game. Oh he’d told her that it’d be fun to show him off.
Turning back to Willow he grabbed the blueprints and started rolling them up. “Would you mind if I kept these? I have a friend who’d love to see them.”
“Um... I suppose...” she answered, and Jack thanked her solemnly as Vittore spirited the papers away before she could think to object.
He’d been meaning to bring something back for his little team, and invisibility-gun plans would be just the thing for Tosh, even if faulty. It was doubtful that she’d be able to get the thing to work, but the fun was in the trying. And if she succeeded - well, it could certainly come in handy...
A while later, during dessert - in the middle of a heated discussion about cosmetic surgery (they were all against it, this century was so strange) - his Torchwood phone rang, and he had to leave to deal with an emergency. Thankfully he’d insisted that UNIT have people on standby in Cardiff, so all he had to do was direct Suzie towards the necessary procedures and make sure things went OK.
Still, he'd been absent for nearly half an hour by the time he returned to his guests, only to find that they’d all left the table and ventured out into the garden.
Watching the young people chat and laugh, lit up by strategically placed lights, Jack more felt than saw Giles walk up behind him until they were side by side, faintly reflected in the window.
“Is this the part where you ask me my intentions?” he asked lightly, and he could sense Giles’ slight irritation.
“Something like that,” was the cautious reply, and Jack smiled, not taking his eyes off Buffy.
“Well you’re seeing them right now.”
Giles shot him a look.
“Would you care to explain further?”
Jack shook his head. “Nothing to explain. I spoil her - she lets me. That’s it. In a little while our paths will diverge and that’ll be that.”
Giles’ scepticism was almost a physical thing between them. “You seem remarkably ready to let her go.”
Jack sighed, but figured that after his earlier... misstep, he probably owed it to Buffy to help put Giles’ mind at rest.
“Mr Giles - I am under no illusions. I’m just... what do the kids call it these days? The rebound guy. Don’t get me wrong, Buffy is one of the most remarkable women I’ve ever met, but this-” he waved a hand, encompassing the house and all it symbolised, “-is just a holiday for me. Having someone to share it with is great, but that’s all it is. God knows neither of us needs another tragically impossible love story in our lives.”
Giles seemed taken aback, but after a moment fastened onto the only non-Buffy related part of his speech, eyes sharp and inquisitive behind his glasses.
“You say this is a holiday. Away from what?”
Jack sighed. He should have seen this coming... Didn’t these people know that curiosity killed the cat?
“Oh, you know, the usual stuff - saving the world and all that jazz. Now more than ever, really. The 21st Century is when everything changes-”
He stopped mid-sentence, the familiar words in one exquisite instant taking on a wholly new meaning.
Staring out into the garden where Buffy - with Kennedy’s help - was demonstrating some sort of fighting manoeuvre (the finer points of decapitation?), questions that had plagued him for more than a century suddenly found answers, puzzle pieces fitting together in a perfect whole. For a moment he was utterly speechless, then he turned to Giles.
“You win,” he stated, still reeling from his sudden insight.
“Excuse me?” Giles replied, looking somewhat disconcerted.
“You - or the slayers, rather - you win. There are no vampires in the future...”
Everything would change - but it had started with the slayers. A whole army, all across the world... yes, it was possible. More than that even - it was probable, logical.
The vampires - the half-breeds - had always been a problem for him, ever since he’d first encountered them. Demons could in time assimilate - and most of them already did so, out of sight of general knowledge. A few more centuries, and they’d be fully accepted, their origins - whatever they might be - lost in the brightness of space and the teeming masses of extra-terrestial life.
But the vampires didn’t fit. There were plasmavores aplenty out there of course, but - as far as he knew - nothing like the living legends of today. And here it was - the reason that they were gone.
He smiled, pleased, but Giles appeared genuinely troubled, the stand-offish disapproval momentarily vanished.
“You are sure of this? That the vampires will be eradicated?”
Jack nodded. “To the best of my knowledge, yes.”
But Giles wasn’t so easily deterred. “Is this a prophecy? None of my sources mentioned that you were a Seer...”
Cursing himself for having said too much, Jack still knew that this might have been unavoidable. The way time looped round, causes and consequences only ever glimpsed in part, it was entirely possible that he, here and now, was helping create the vampire-free future he knew. Slowly he shook his head.
“I’m not a Seer. That’s... that’s not how it works. I just... know things. If you want my advice? You have an army of vampire Slayers - let them slay the vampires. Every last one.”
By the look on Giles’ face his words had apparently made an unforeseen impact, and he dearly hoped this would mean no more quizzing tonight. His mind was full enough as it was.
The vampires would all be dust... but so, too, would the slayers. 21st Century, everything changed - the slayers would change the world, and then die out, obsolete like magic. After all, what good was a stake against a sonic blaster? A sword against a particle gun?
Then Buffy burst through the doors, glaring at the two of them with her best no-nonsense look and very effectively ended his introspection.
“OK, why are you hiding in here?”
He grinned, easily covering up. “We were about to retreat to the library, to drink brandy and discuss world affairs, while you ladies amuse yourselves with whatever it is that women talk about. Maybe you could do some embroidery?”
“Still not funny! I think your sense of humour is broken,” she countered, taking his hand and dragging him out into the garden.
Life was good, Jack reflected.
His girlfriend was gorgeous, her friends were fabulous company, and her Watcher provided just the right amount of frisson to keep things interesting. They’d spend tomorrow traipsing around tourist hot-spots and then send them off Monday morning... what on earth had Buffy been so worried about?
Chapter 13.
no subject
Oh I know that feeling!
'Yay, more story. Boy, Jack knows how to tempt fate.'
Well I'm very pleased that you're enjoying it, and that my 'ominous music' is working. :)