...Mightier Than the Sword
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Wait, Izzie’s A What?

Buffy the Vampire Slayer A.U. “The Gift” x/over with Grey’s Anatomy S1 post “Shake Your Groove Thing”

Answer to Challenge #1761 "Izzie's Baby Challenge": When Buffy died in season five, she was immediately reborn- to a teenage Izzie Stevens. Izzy gave her up for adoption, and went on to med school. Now, six to ten years later, Buffy's slayer powers have returned, and demons kill her adoptive parents. Suddenly, Izzie's a mom to a mini-slayer, and mini-Buffy is dealing with random memories of her former life. Requirements: 1. Some subset of the Scoobies must come to meet/protect mini-Buffy. 2. Buffy living with Meredith, George, and Izzy 2. Christina babysitting 2. Buffy wreaking havoc at Seattle Grace.

Disclaimer: Quotations taken from "The Gift" and "Shake Your Groove Thing" don't belong to me. In fact, neither Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Grey's Anatomy belong to me. And Angel, which will come along later, doesn't belong to me either.

May 22, 2001, Sunnydale California

Dawn Summers screamed as Doc the demon slashed her skin with the ceremonial knife over and over again. “Shallow cuts . . .” Doc said each time he made another cut. Dawn sobbed, “Shallow cuts . . .” Dawn cried out, “let the blood . . . flow . . .” Blood dripped down to Dawn’s toes and over the platform of the Tower. “ . . . free.”

“Dawn,” Buffy Anne Summers, the current vampire Slayer and Dawn’s sister, stormed to the top of the Tower and across the platform to her sister.

“Buffy!” Dawn gasped in pain, her long brunette hair blowing in the wind. Doc spun around as Buffy came toward him.

“This should be interesting,” Doc mused, smirking.

Buffy didn’t even pause, just pushed him off the edge as she went past. His screams quieted as he fell further to the ground, never to be heard from again. Buffy took hold of Dawn as the younger sibling continued to cry, “Here.” Buffy started to undo the ropes that bound her sister to the Tower.

“Buffy, it hurts,” Dawn whimpered.

“I got it,” Buffy said, untying the last of the ropes and holding Dawn in her arms, “Come here. You’re gonna be okay.”

A few drops of Dawn’s blood dripped off her toes. They stopped in midair, causing a circle of light to appear and expand. It was a portal. Buffy led a limping Dawn away from the platform to the stairs to go down.
Dawn stopped, turning to her elder sister, “Go!” Buffy said.

“Buffy, it’s started.” Buffy turned around. She saw the light coming from the portal, which was growing even larger.

Down on the street a bolt of lighting from the portal collides with the street, making a huge hole as if the street were only paper. The citizens of Sunnydale screamed and ran around in chaos. More lightning appeared and hit the city hall building. The building transformed into a shell, with huge wires and ugly demons coming out of it. The demons screeched hoarsely. The ground shook, causing the Tower to tremble unstably.

Buffy turned back to Dawn as Dawn stared at the portal, “I’m sorry.” Dawn sniffled.

“It doesn’t matter,” Buffy shook her head. Dawn tried to run past Buffy but the Slayer grabbed her, “What are you doing?”

“I have to jump,” Dawn’s voice was shaky, “The energy . . .”

“It’ll kill you,” Buffy insisted.

“I know,” Dawn said softly, “Buffy, I know about the ritual. I have to stop it.”

“No,” Buffy shook her head. The Tower shook again and both sisters stumbled.

“I have to. Look at what’s happening!” More lightening crackled, even more than before. Buffy looked up. An enormous dragon flew out of the portal and circled the area. Tears stung in Dawn’s eyes, “Buffy, you have to let me go.” Buffy stared at Dawn painfully, “Blood starts it, and until the blood stops flowing, it’ll never stop.” The tears forced their way out of Dawn’s eyes, “You know you have to let me. It has to have the blood.”

A lightbulb flashed in Buffy’s head. She suddenly remembered what Spike said earlier, “‘Cause it’s always got to be blood.’” Next, she remembered what she told Dawn at the hospital when Glory attacked. "‘It’s Summers’ blood. It’s just like mine,’" And earlier in the day, at the Magic Box, "‘She’s me. The monks made her out of me.’" And when the first Slayer talked to her in the desert. "‘Death is your gift.’ ‘Death . . .’ ‘. . . is your gift.’"

The Slayer frowned, turning around slowly. Her long, blonde hair whipped in her face. She saw the portal still growing wider and deeper. The artificial light the portal gave off was so bright, giving an iridescent glow to everything around. It was so . . . shiny. The sun was coming up now, the night was almost over. She felt so peaceful. She couldn’t hear anything around her. It was completely silent.

And in that moment, it became clear. She knew what she had to do, plain and simple. She turned back to Dawn, whose eyes went wide. The sound came back, and Buffy could hear the faint screaming of people from down below.

“Buffy . . . no!” Dawn pleaded.
“Dawnie, I have to,” Buffy’s voice was calm and quiet.

“No!” Dawn cried.

“Listen to me. Please, there’s not a lot of time. Listen,” Buffy took hold of Dawn’s shoulders once more. Dawn shook her head, trying not to ignore what she knew her sister would say, “Dawn listen to me.” Dawn tried to get out of Buffy’s hold but the Slayer was stronger than her, “I love you. I will always love you but this is the work that I have to do. Tell Giles . . . tell Giles I figured it out and, and I’m okay. And give my love to my friends. You have to take care of them now. You have to take care of each other. You have to be strong. Dawn, the hardest thing in this world . . . is to live in it,” Buffy stroked the side of her sister’s face and then kisses her on the cheek. Dawn continued to cry. “Be brave. Live. For me.”

The Slayer turned and ran down the platform, almost in slow-motion. Dawn sobbed, collapsing to her knees. Buffy flew off the platform, descending into the portal. White-hot pain filled her body instantly and then . . .the world went dark.

At the same . . . in Chehalis, Washington

Sixteen-year-old Isobel Stevens (though people usually called her Iz or Izzie) sat in her hospital bed with her knees drawn up to her chin. Painful tears streamed from her eyes and soaking through the paper gown she wore.

She’d just done the hardest thing in the world: give up her newborn child for adoption. This had been the plan for the last six months ever since she’d found out she was pregnant and knew she could not keep the child. She’d chosen the perfect parents. Shelly and Jason Morrison were extremely nice, loving, people who had everything they could ever want . . . except for a child. They’d said Shelly was not able to children so they’d decided to adopt. Neither had any family left besides each other so they wanted to start their own family. Izzie, with the help of her mother, had chosen Mr. and Mrs. Morrison to adopt and raise her child. As part of the agreement, Izzie would have no contact with the child besides a picture and letter the Morrisons would send every year on the child’s birthday. The child would always know that he or she was adopted and would be given a picture of Izzie and know that she was his or her mother. When the child turned eighter, he or she would be given the option of seeking Izzie out.

Izzie had just given birth to a five-pound two-ounce little girl with a full head of curly bleach-blonde hair. Ten fingers, ten toes . . . the newborn was perfectly healthy. Also as part of the agreement, Izzie would be allowed to hold the baby one last time before giving her to the Morrisons. She’d held the baby for over an hour, just staring into the little green eyes of her daughter. Then Mr. and Mrs. Morrison had come in and taken her away. That was the last time Izzie had ever seen her, and once the Morrisons had left the room the tears had come out. Her baby was gone.

Six and a half years later . . .

Izzie sighed as she opened the door to the house she shared with her two roommates George O’Malley and Meredith Grey. Taking a deep breath she looked up and instantly her eyes went wide. Every room visible to her from that spot was completely covered in garbage: plastic cups, chip wrappers, napkins, food . . . And speaking of her roommates, George sat on the couch and Meredith was on the floor next to the coffee table.

“Holy mother of destruction . . .” Izzie looked around the room. George lay back as if asleep.

Meredith set the coffee mug in her hands on the table and looked up at Izzie, “You missed Doctor-palooza.” Whoa, Izzie thought, Meredith sounds and looks both drunk and annoyed. Oops.

Izzie took off her shoes, “Apparently you didn’t.”

“I should probably never speak to you again,” Meredith stated.

Izzie sat down next to George, “I’m so sorry, Meredith.” The night before she’d thrown a party for her boyfriend who’d just come in town and invited (by accident) almost every doctor and nurse at Seattle Grace Hospital. Meredith, George, Izzie, along with Christina Yang and Alex Karev were interns at Seattle Grace. Unfortunately, her boyfriend had broken up with her last night, “I had no idea it was going to get so . . .” Izzie stopped, gesturing around the room.

“It’s okay,” Meredith stated in her signature raspy voice, “Really, I don’t care. What would I be doing, anyway?”

Izzie took off her scarf and set it on the back of the couch, “Preparing for your career-altering meeting.” George chuckled. Izzie smirked, “Sorry.”

“That heart wall shouldn’t have torn,” Meredith said.

“Anything in the patient’s history?” Izzie asked, leaning forward to pick up one of the many bottles of beer from the coffee table. She took a nice, long, gulp. The day before Meredith’s finger had accidently popped her glove during a heart surgery and she tore the wall of the patient’s heart.

“Husband said she was in the best shape of her life,” George looked at Izzie strangely as Meredith spoke, “She lost a hundred pounds last year.”

“Hundred pounds in a year. . . how’s her muscle mass?” Izzie took another drink. Meredith just stared.
“Do you even know who’s that was?” George said.

Izzie held the drink in her mouth for a second before swallowing, “I’m hoping it was yours.”

“No . . .” George sounded queasy. He turned away from Izzie and leaning over the arm of the couch. Izzie shrugged and took another drink

Just then there was a knock on the door. George jumped. Meredith blinked. Izzie raised her eyebrow, “Who could that be?” Izzie wondered.

Meredith shrugged, still lost in space. Izzie put down the bottle and stood up. Going over to the door, she cleared a path with her bare feet. The knocking continued. “I’m coming!” Izzie shouted. She turned the knob and opened. She was face-to-chest with a man in police uniform. She raised her head to meet his gaze. He was older, old enough to be Izzie’s father, with graying-black hair sticking out of the hat, “Can I help you?”

It was then that Izzie noticed something else . . . there was a little girl with blonde hair next to him, holding a doll. The guy had a suitcase in one hand and a clipboard in the other. “I’m Officer Nickels. Is Isobel Stevens here?”

Izzie nodded, still watching the little girl, “That would be me.”

“Alright,” Officer Nickels said, “Custody of Elizabeth Anne Morrison has been placed on you.” He raised the clipboard. Izzie immediately recognized the name, “If you’ll just sign down on the bottom here, I’ll get out of your way.”

“What about her . . . parents?” Izzie stumbled on the last word. Izzie took the clipboard

Officer Nickels hesitated and bent down next to the little girl, “Elizabeth, why don’t you go inside and get comfortable.” Elizabeth nodded sadly, hugging her doll close. She quietly stalked into the house past Izzie. She sat on the recliner to the left of the couch where Meredith and George looked on in confusion. Officer Nickels rose to his feet and turned back to Izzie. He whispered, “Mr. and Mrs. Morrison were killed in a car accident two days ago.”

Izzie gasped, covering her mouth with her hand, “Wow . . .”

Officer Nickels nodded, “As you can imagine, Elizabeth is in quite the fragile state.” Izzie, too, nodded. She remembered when her father had died when she was five and her mother had told her. Of course, being five years old, she didn’t completely understand the concept. That was the first time she’d ever laughed at a funeral.

“How is she taking it?” Izzie asked.

Officer Nickels sighed sadly, “Like any six year old who had lost her parents. Not good.” Izzie cringed. There was that word again. Parents. In the past six and half years Izzie had dreaded it every time she heard it. Along with mother, daughter . . . “A social worker will call to make an appointment with you later today to discuss the details.”

“Whoa, later today?” Izzie said. The officer nodded, “I have to go to work in an hour. I’m an intern at a hospital. I work forty-eight hour days!”

“Well, you’ll just have to figure something out,” Officer Nickels said. With that, he handed Izzie the small suitcase and left, closing the door behind him. Izzie just stared. Then she dropped the suitcase and ran down the hall to the bathroom, slammed the door shut behind her, and puked her guts out.

As Izzie ran out, Meredith and George stared in shock at the little blonde girl sitting across the room holding her doll. The little girl’s head was down, fixated on the doll. George leaned over, elbowing Meredith in the ribs, “What’s going on?”

Meredith shrugged, still gazing at the little girl, “Um . . . I think Izzie . . . is a mother.”

George nodded, not really paying attention. Then his eyes went wide, “Wait, Izzie’s a what?”

Meredith (stared at the little girl), “Yeah. Just look at the kid. She looks exactly like Izzie. The blonde hair, the green eyes. It’s freaky.” She turned to George. “Did you know about this?”

George shook his head, “No way. Did you?”

“No!” Meredith said, “How could Izzie keep something like this from us?”

George shrugged. The little girl continued to play with her doll, not even paying attention to George and Meredith. The two of them just stared at the little girl with the long blonde hair and green eyes. Neither spoke a single word.

Suddenly the bathroom door opened and Izzie came into the room. Her face was flush and pale, sweat dripping from her brow. She gulped, wrapping her arms around her shoulders. Izzie gestured first toward Meredith and George and then in the direction of the kitchen. Meredith nodded, standing up and pulling George with her. Izzie’s roommates stopped in the doorway.

They watched Izzie go up to the little girl and knell in front of her. Even from across the room Meredith could see Izzie shake. The blonde gently place her hand on the little girl’s knee. Meredith elbowed George in the ribs again and they went further into the kitchen, out of hearing range. Meredith really didn’t want to impose on what Izzie said to the little girl.

George turned to Meredith and whispered, “Something’s wrong. I’ve never seen Izzie like this.”

Meredith nodded. She heard footsteps, “Sssh!” She said to George.

Izzie wiped her eyes as she came into the kitchen. George looked down at the counter. Izzie looked up and Meredith smiled supportingly, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Izzie’s voice squeaked. She pushed the hair out of her face, “So I guess I have some explaining to do.”

“Take your time, Iz,” George smiled softly. Izzie nodded, sniffling. She took a deep breath.

“Wow,” Izzie sat down on a stool, “This is something I never thought I’d be telling anyone, especially the two of you.”

George and Meredith were silent, letting her tell them on her own time. And Izzie was grateful for it because it had been a very emotional morning so far and if she was forced to go any faster then she knew she’d fall apart. She took another deep breath.

The other two in the room stayed quiet. George started at the ground. Meredith gulped, shifting her feet.

Izzie too shifted. She cleared her throat, “Almost seven years ago, when I was sixteen years old, I had a little girl. I gave that little girl up for adoption. I already had plans of becoming a surgeon and knew that having a child at sixteen would only get in the way. Plus, I came from a very poor background and I knew my mother could not support both me and a baby.” Izzie gulped, wiping a stray tear away, “So I chose a set of parents and when the baby was born, she was theirs. They named her Elizabeth, partially after me.”

“Oh Iz . . .” Meredith said. George just stared in that expression he had when someone told him something he didn’t know how to deal with.

“I finished school and went to college and med school and here we are today,” Izzie said, “But three days ago the two people I chose to raise my little girl were killed in a car accident.” The blonde took a deep breath, “She’s here because the Morrisons had no family besides themselves and I’m the only person she’s got left.”

“What are you going to do?” Meredith asked.

“I have no idea,” Izzie shrugged, “Guess she’ll have to stay. I don’t want her to get in the hands of the foster system. They’ll just scar her even more than she already is after the death of her . . . of the Morrisons.”

“Does she know about you? About who you are to her?” George said.

“Yeah,” Izzie told him, “She doesn’t quite understand it but she knows.”

“Well,” Meredith looked at her watch, “We have to be at the hospital in half an hour. What are you going to do with Elizabeth?”

“I’ll just have to bring her,” Izzie sighed, “Hopefully Bailey won’t be too pissed.”

“I’m pretty sure she’ll be too busy being pissed with me,” Meredith breathed deeply.

“Why, because of the heart thing?” George said.

“Yeah, that,” Meredith said, but just from the tone in her voice Izzie could tell it was something else.


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