madimpossibledreamer

Main Points:
Torchwood/BtVS 'Casting' AU
Rating: T
Word Count: 2,241
Cast of Characters:
Destiny = Buffy
Brynwon = Angel
Xander = Captain Xan
Buffy/Angel is a thing
Summary: People have been disappearing in Cardiff. Police Officer Destiny Sumner has been assigned to the investigation, only to find that she is not the only one looking at the evidence-something called Torchwood has ordered all police officers off the investigation and is conducting their own. She isn’t willing to let this go, however, and in her desire to know the truth, she might find a little too much...

“Hey. You look like you’ve been playing Fall World Expanded.” She turned around, blinking, shocked. There was one person she didn’t expect to see ever again, at least not of his own free will, and that was the guy standing in front of her. Prettyboy or Alexander or whatever his real name was.

She didn’t get what he was talking about, but here he was, standing in front of her, not running off like a scared rabbit. ...well, actually, he didn’t do scared rabbit. More enjoying himself and taunting her rabbit. He sounded a bit geek, but that didn’t make him any less hot. And she was somewhat shocked to find that assessment coming from her brain. “Well, you’re always running away from me,” she replied before her brain could catch up to her words.

He laughed. “Sorry about that. Care for a drink?”

When they were finally seated, he ordered them both drinks, then turned to her with a smile. “Captain Alexander Blade, by the way. I haven’t gotten to introduce myself yet. And you are...?”

“Destiny.” It occurred to her to mention that she had a boyfriend, but it just somehow didn’t come up. “I’m glad that I got to talk to you. I’ve got a lot of questions.”

“I’ll bet,” he answered with a smile. “If you’d like, you could call me Captain, or Xan.”

“Do you know how hard it is to find information on you people? You’re like ghosts!” She glared, as if it was his fault.

“Or Men in Black,” he responded with a chuckle. “Ask away, by the way. That’s what I’m here for.”

“Not to just flirt with me?” she asked skeptically, taking a sip from her glass.

The Captain grinned. “That’s just icing on the cake. I actually kind of believe in mixing business with pleasure. It worked for Bond, anyway.” He looked up with a grateful and slightly flirtatious smile as their drinks arrived, and put money on the table-a huge tip. The man was a flirt.

She took a deep breath. “Okay. You’re probably here because you were monitoring anyone who asks about Torchwood somehow, right?” It would have sounded paranoid, but apparently these guys were top secret, just swanned in and took over any investigation they wanted. Never mind the fact that they were supposedly shut down. Since they obviously were still running, they’d probably be really interested in anyone figuring out that was a lie.

“Slow down, Lois Lane! I’ve never met a civilian who’s dealt with a vampire so easily before, and I’m just a little bit curious. From what I see so far, you’re exceptional. In more ways than one.” The grin never left as he sipped from his own glass. From the easy deflection she guessed she was on to something.

She smiled back, enjoying the attention while still a little bit wary. “Well, I’m glad you’re impressed. Why do you keep calling it a vampire? There aren’t such things as vampires.”

He paused and thought for a moment. “Let’s just say there are more things on heaven and earth. When you’ve worked for the police force for a while, you learn certain things about the world that most people would think you’re crazy for saying, but are true, right?” She stared at him, not comprehending, and he rolled his eyes and sighed. “Take murder, for example. You’re far more likely to be murdered by someone you know. If you’re married, chances are your spouse is going to be the one to slip you pills or stab you in the back if you wind up murdered, but tell that to the real world and they’ll call you morbid or cynical.”

She was following. Sort of. Except she still didn’t really believe what he was saying. “So, Torchwood really is like the Men in Black. Your job is to deal with the weird stuff.”

“‘We are the Earth’s last, best, and only defense,’” he quoted. He’d apparently memorized the movie. Yet that still came off as sexy. Probably because he was actually living it and in fairly good shape instead of living in his mother’s basement, sitting on the couch, eating junk food and watching movies, reading comic books, and doing stuff on the computer. That’s what geeks did, right? “Yup. Pretty much.”

Well, he might be over the top to get people to disbelieve, but it was clear that they were an organization with a lot of power and she wasn’t pleased with them butting in on her crime scene. “You called that other thing a Weevil. Lemme guess-alien.”

“Yup.” A pause, as he watched her. Seeing if she was swallowing the bait, probably.

She was getting tired of the run around. Time to get to the heart of the matter. “Torchwood supposedly shut down in the 1980s, but it didn’t really, did it?”

His eyes looked a little alarmed. The smile didn’t waver. “I don’t know where you got that. We’re obviously still in business.”

She leaned forward, danger in her eyes. “Yes, well, my boss thinks that you shut down. Which is why a defunct organization should not be messing around on my crime scenes.”

Xan looked a touch angry, but his voice still was mostly humorous. “Oh, is that how you feel? Your crime scenes? Should we be coming to you for permission, then?”

“No. I’d rather you butted out.” Despite the fact that he was very attractive, and he knew that was working for him. He couldn’t not. Complete honesty was probably the best option here.

His eyes softened a little, but his voice was firm, if a bit sad. “I can’t do that.”

“Well, if you’ve gotten any useful information from that psychic act of yours, you can tell the police. Contract out if you like. But it’s our jurisdiction and our crime scene.” He wasn’t buying it. Typical male, thinks he’s in charge. Just ‘cause he’s totally hot.

He was back to smiling. “I’m not the psychic. That would be Emily, our lovely witch.”

She shook her head. “You really believe this stuff, don’t you? I’ll bet you’ve got some impressive motto and mission statement involving aliens and magic, don’t you?”

“We deal with alien and magical threats. We scavenge the stuff they leave behind, arming the human race against the future.” He looked serious, but he couldn’t possibly be.

“Okay, stop, geek-boy. Seriously, that’s enough.” The alcohol must have been going to her head. She wasn’t usually this aggressive.

The Captain sounded a bit wistful and distant. “The twenty-first century is when everything changes, and you gotta be ready.” He paused. “Are you okay?” he asked politely.

“I...” she stood up and fell. She couldn’t possibly be already drunk, could she? “What did you put in my drink?”

He smiled sadly and helped her stand. “Retcon. Our version of the memory eraser. Wake up next morning with no memory of Torchwood...or me, more’s the pity. But we can’t let you wander around asking so many questions in the wrong places just yet. Torchwood, for the moment, is buried. It needs to stay that way.”

“You can’t do that!” she yelled loudly, leading everyone in the bar to stare.

“Yes, I can make you go home. You obviously can’t handle your drink,” he answered, tone not so quiet anymore. For the benefit of the people watching, she realized. Surely someone had to see through it. He was a good actor, but not that good. She tore from his grasp and ran out, falling down once.

Only to run into a taxi. Like a gentleman, the Captain opened the door and wrangled the boneless Destiny inside. She had decided to start swearing at him rather colorfully in Welsh.

“Will, you’re amazing. I’d ask how you do it, but a magician never reveals his secrets, so I’m sure you wouldn’t tell me.” She was vaguely aware of the fact that in the front seat he seemed to be stripping. Except then there were other clothes covering that skin she was straining to see, so she must just be completely out of it at that point. And it was absolutely ludicrous to hope the bloke who had just drugged her was naked on the front seat. Whatever he’d given her was doing strange things to her brain. There was also a conversation about a cover story, and possible side effects, and She-Hulk, but she was past the point of understanding one word in ten.

Brynmor was somewhat shocked to see a policeman he’d never seen before helping an almost passed out Destiny into the flat.

“Sorry, you would be...” the man asked, in an accent that he couldn’t quite place.

“Brynmor. Destiny’s boyfriend.” Instantly he was on his defensive. This guy was just a little too friendly.

The bloke wouldn’t stop speaking as he maneuvered her onto the couch. “Nice to meet you. I’m sorry about this, really. You know how it is, the guys go out for a night out, off the clock of course, and the girl says she can keep up just as well. I figured it was time for her to go home, but she tried to punch me out. Before she passed out, that is.”

The Welshman laughed. “That is like her, actually. Wants to have just as much respect as the next bloke.”

The policeman lingered for a moment. “I feel bad about this, actually. I thought it was funny, kept egging her on, you know how it is. Just...look after her, all right?”

Brynmor shrugged self-deprecatingly. “It’s kind of the job description.”

A laugh. “Yeah, that’s true.” Then the copper was gone.

It occurred to Brynmor that he’d forgotten to get a name.

Destiny awoke with a slight headache, as if she had gotten drunk last night, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember anything that had happened.

“Hey. Migraine?” Brynmor asked, holding out an aspirin and a glass of water.

“You’re a life saver,” she answered, taking them quickly. “You’re not out of it, so I’m guessing it wasn’t the two of us getting pissed last night.” For some reason, what happened seemed important, but the harder she tried to remember the more it slipped away.

“No, it was you and some of the guys at the station. Bloke who brought you in was young. Kept apologizing and wouldn’t shut up. He thought it was his fault you were smashed.” That didn’t ring true, but then she didn’t know what did, so...

“Maybe it’s better I can’t remember what happened,” she mused. “Sometimes they can be such tossers.”

“Well, then, it’s lucky you have me.” That earned a kiss, that was unfortunately interrupted by a ringing phone that sounded ten times louder and considerably more demonoid than a normal phone.

Brynmor handed the phone over with an apologetic look. ‘Work,’ he mouthed.

It was Mabyn. “Look, I know you have a shift scheduled today, but I’d rather not have a hung-over cop here while the brass is popping in. So stay home with your lovely man and I’ll gossip with you later about your lovely ghost.”

She frowned. Ghost? “What gho...” But then her boss hung up. So much for that. The gossip about her being drunk must have gotten around the station already. What a pain. They’d probably be teasing her for ages now. Especially if the ghost thing was something she’d said while drunk, which was looking more and more likely.

“Gave me the day off,” she stated, and was startled to hear her tone. Usually she’d be ecstatic-well, sort of not, because she loved her job, but at the same time, it did give her some more time alone with the bloke of her dreams. Yet today she sounded put out.

“Look, love, I’m pretty sure you impressed the people at the pub, just like you impressed me. I’ve got to go to work now, but...we can plan a big dinner, yeah? Italian, your favorite. I’ll pick up some stuff on the way. You go back to bed and rest up, get rid of that nasty headache so nothing comes between us tonight.” He picked her up and carried her to the bed, where he laid her down softly. “Love ya.” He leaned down and kissed her gently on the forehead, pulling the covers over her, and then he was gone.

For some reason, though, something was bothering her, at the back of her mind, and it was not going to leave her be until she figured it out.

As soon as she was sure he was gone, she grabbed her mobile, checking the messages, voicemail, anything. There was a text from an Alfred P. stating that he’d had a great time last night and would never underestimate the female officers serving alongside him ever again. She couldn’t remember an Alfred, but supposed he might have been some really new bloke in a different department or something. Still, something about it seemed wrong, like leaving a bad taste in her mouth.
A check of the search history on her mobile and laptop showed...nothing out of the ordinary. Email, facebook, a few dozen puppy pictures. Nothing unusual, which in of itself seemed odd. She had the feeling that something very unusual indeed had happened yesterday, just had no idea what that might be.

This was doing no one any good. Maybe Brynmor was right and she should sleep on it.

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