Dawn Winchester?
Summary: Dawn isn't Buffy's clone, she's her daughter... and John's.
Disclaimer: I don't own either show. If you recognize it, it ain't mine.
Dawn screamed. There was a minion swinging a sword at Spike's neck, then everything went funny. The scream continued as the world twisted and changed and was suddenly a windshield in front of her. Because she was in a truck. She was in a truck with a large man pointing a gun at her and trying not to steer the truck off the side of the road. Continuing to scream seemed like a good idea.
"Who are you!" the man demanded harshly.
"DDDDawn." she spluttered, while trying to become one with corner between the seat and the door. She hated it, but suddenly tears were pouring down her cheeks. She didn't know where she was, Spike might be dust, Xander was hurt and might be dead, Glory had been coming, and now some big old guy with a scruffy face was pointing a gun at her! It seemed like a perfect time for a break down to her. "Wh, who are you? A, a, and where are we? Why are you p, p, pointing a gu, gun at me?" she tried to get out between the sobs she couldn't hold in. The one thing she didn't ask was how she had gotten there. There was only one explanation for that little item. Someone had magicked her away from the Magic Box, probably Willow, Tara, or Giles. She wished she knew if they were ok.
John looked at the little girl who had suddenly appeared on the bench seat next to him. It was obvious that she was terrified, but it wasn't to the point of being out of her mind."My name is John Winchester, and you just appeared out of thin air in the passenger seat of my truck. Why wouldn't I point a weapon at you?" he asked in what he hoped was a reasonable manner. If this wasn't another trap, he had no desire to frighten the little girl any more than she already was. If it was a trap, the only thing to do was discover where the axe was going to fall, and see if he could get out of it.
"Oh, ok." Dawn said. When the guy put it like that, it wasn't all that unreasonable. At least with Scooby-logic. She sniffled and tried to calm down. "You didn't say where we are." she took a deep and shuddering breath and continued, dispite her shaking. "What city, state, country, anything you could tell me would be good please."
Well, she was polite enough, John thought. Although she was still shaking and crying, she seemed to be trying to calm down. "Massachuetts, and I'm heading out of Boston. Where are you headed? Or were you trying to go anywhere?"
"Willow." Dawn said, and John gave her a WTF? look. "Sssorry. My mom's friend, Willow. Ssshe," deep breath, "must have cast a spell. None of the others are powerful enough to have sent me this far." She looked over to see John nodding calmly. "And you are taking that statement waaay to calmly for me." She shivered again.
"Magic isn't news to me." John said simply and waited. If she was part of a trap, then she would have a please come help my friends story. If she wasn't part of a trap, then the story would be something else. Whatever it was, John would wait for it. Remaining calm was sometimes the only way to calm down others, and it looked like Dawn needed someone to be a rock for her until she found her footing.
Dawn nodded. She knew that although real magic was a kind of closed society type thing, there were people out there who knew it did exist. And because Willow had sent her here, it did make sense for John to at least know that magic was real. And it also explained the whole gun thing, although she didn't know what a gun could do to most things that could travel by magic. Or was it a gun? John had called it a weapon. Maybe it was something else. It really didn't matter. Willow had sent her here. The only reason she would do that was if Glory was about to win. It hit her hard. "They're all dead." she whispered and promptly passed out. That hadn't been what John had been expecting. A sob story or a oops, can you lend me your phone so I can call this Willow woman, and get her to bring me back, not a whispered declaration of death and passing out.
