"The Equivalency of Destiny" By Shadow Master

(BtVS/Fullmetal Alchemist/Fate Stay Night/ Fate Apocrypha/Hellsing)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the copyrighted materials contained herein. They are the rightful property of their creators and/or associated companies. I make no profit from this whatsoever and I have no intention of changing this at any point in the future. I write because it's fun and because there are those who enjoy reading my work. Therefore it would be greatly appreciated if no legal action were taken against me.

Note 1: This idea came to me as I watched the latest 'Fate' anime series and it was good enough to get my muse interested in taking things from a loose idea of my imagination to something more detailed. Thanks to Holyknight, someone who I use as a sounding board for ideas, I managed to put together a plot idea that I think is actually quite good. Seeing as how there aren't all that many crossovers involving the above mentioned copyrighted shows it'll be interesting to see how you the readers react. I hope you like it.

Note 2: As with all my stories I will do what I can to remain true to the original source material but if some fact from any of them blocks or otherwise makes telling the story I want to tell too difficult I will change it. If you're one of those readers that insists on everything adhering to canon perfectly then I suggest you turn around and find another story. What spurs me on to write is mostly the plot my imagination comes up with and with the help of Holyknight it only gets more interesting. So just so you all know: you can write all the criticisms and bad reviews you want but so long as me and my muse like the story I'll keep writing. I'M the only one who gets to decide if or when a story dies.

Note 3: The publish date and premiere date for the Fullmetal Alchemist manga and anime in the universe this takes place three years prior to the episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer this story starts out during. As far as the Fate/Stay Night characters are concerned when they show up their history will be of the Unlimited Blade Works sort that is described in wiki as the best possible ending after the Fifth Holy Grail War. There will be some alterations in order to make the stories of Fate/Stay Night and Fate Apocrypha mesh and join so please be tolerant.

Well this took too long. Please enjoy my story. Praise gratefully accepted and flames cheerfully ignored.

The Equivalency of Destiny

537 A.D

Post Battle of Camlann

Nimue's POV

The hope for the future had fallen.

For almost three decades she had worked with her sister Vivian to create a light of hope and nobility to guide the humans out of the dark times they were engulfed in. With the help of Merlin they had located one who possessed all the traits that a leader would need to guide the humans closer to their nobler natures in Artoria Pendragon. Thanks to a set up legend created years earlier, Artoria was proclaimed the prophesied ruler of the land destined to bring prosperity and happiness to the people. It proved difficult in the beginning but, thanks to Merlin acting as a mentor to the young woman, the 'king' of Camelot quickly became a polished stone beloved by all.

Well, almost all.

Artoria's older sister Morgan Le Fay had always been jealous of her younger sibling because of the favoritism Uther showed towards the ruler of Camelot growing up. Jealousy became hate and hate turned into a desire for vengeance that would linger nigh until the woman's death. From almost the beginning the older sibling worked to bring ruin to her sister, learning all manner of magic that she thought could be useful to her. However it wasn't until Merlin decided to have a little fun at Artoria's expense that Morgan made her move. Using sorcery, the woman managed to acquire that which she needed to create a pseudo-daughter and, because she was not patient, also accelerated the growth of the homunculus until the heir reached a suitable age. From there a disguise was crafted with the heir, named Mordred by Morgan, in order to allow the young woman to become one of Camelot's knights. From there it'd been easy enough to use the strength of Artoria's blood to ascend to the ranks of the Round.

Too bad things didn't go completely according to Morgan's plan.

The woman's goal was for Mordred to hide her true identity and purpose then, when the time was right, to take the throne from Artoria.

However, due to the childlike adoration Mordred had towards her 'father', the sort-of-daughter wanted to be named the heir to the throne with the king's blessing rather than through brute force. Morgan countered this by finally revealing to her 'daughter' her true origins, causing Mordred's mind to become chaotic as her entire world was turned upside down. On the one hand the girl felt ashamed of her origins and disconnected from those around her while on the other side there was nothing but excitement at the idea of being the child of the king she adored. In the end glee won out and, without telling Morgan, the girl met with her 'father' and, after removing her helmet, revealed the truth as she saw it.

That she was the child of the king and therefore rightful heir to the throne of Camelot.

However, while Artoria acknowledging Mordred was the result of a union between her and Morgan, the king refused to officially name her the heir to the throne.

This planted the seeds of anger and hate in Mordred that Morgan was only too glad to nurture to full bloom. Not only that, but Morgan lent quiet aid to those few subjects who did not share the adoration for King Arthur that the majority of the people did. Like a disease it spread through the people, turning once loyal subjects into bitter people who looked at Artoria with mistrust. Matters only got worse by Artoria's conclusion that the king could not be a human being in how they acted and needed to abandon human emotion in order to protect the people by making logical and rational decisions. As a result of this decision one knight claimed that the king did not understand human feelings and therefore could not relate to her subjects. Others likely felt the same but did not voice it. Time passed and some chose to leave Camelot, unwilling to follow one for whom the human heart was a closed book.

However the real downfall occurred when an affair came to light that caused significant cracks to form in the reputation of the perfect king.

As a result of the actions of a few traitors and likely Morgan Le Fay, it became known that soon after the arrival of Queen Guinevere Sir Lancelot Du Lac began meeting with her in secret. While once or twice could have been forgiven, many more times between a man and a woman and it can only be considered an illicit affair. After all, if it was only friendship then there was no need for the meetings to happen in secret, was there? In the end Artoria chose to fulfill her duties as the king and sentenced the queen to be executed for betraying her lawful husband and king.

She did this even if she herself didn't see the act as a betrayal but rather the natural result of the sacrifice Guinevere made in becoming wed to someone for the sake of the people rather than love.

However, so in love with the queen was Lancelot that it drove him to attempt to free his lover from her prison cell, intent on fleeing from the kingdom to someplace safe. If the two of them could not flee then he would remain to hold off pursuit while Guinevere fled to France, Lancelot's homeland, where she would be safe from pursuit. In the course of this rescue several knights were killed, including the brothers of Gawain, but as if some unseen hand of Fate was present, the two of them were able to flee to France successfully. Years passed without any sign of pursuit from Camelot and as their fear waned their joy soared, but within them both there forever lingered a cloud of guilt over what they'd done to their dear friend.

As a result of this the two of them always kept an ear out for any news of Camelot and often paid visits to friends whose livelihoods would cause them to visit Artoria's kingdom from time to time.

The news was not good and it only got worse.

Lack of emotion was making it impossible for the king to form bonds with his subjects and the successful escape of two who'd betrayed the throne made some question Artoria's competency. However it was then Lancelot heard the rumors of the 'imminent fall of the inhuman king' concern gripped the two of them fearing that their friend was in real danger. Lancelot insisted that Guinevere remain in France for her own safety while he would return to Camelot to trace these rumors to their source.

By the time that Lancelot returned to Camelot, though, the civil unrest and distrust towards Arthur was quickly reaching its boiling point under Mordred's leadership. Wary of how the atmosphere would cause everyone to be on the lookout for trouble, he did his best never to expose his complete face to anyone lest they inform the Round Table of his return.

It took nearly a week before he managed to locate the basement where an informant had told him the one who started the rumors often spent his time but all he found there was a blacksmith's workshop. There were numerous examples of what could be made spread but the majority of them were tools of war, making him worry about what this could mean. While there was no shortage of shops in Camelot authorized to sell such things, normally a shop owner only produced enough to keep their shelves stocked. Based on what he could see the blacksmith had been diligently working on making quite a bit and even had a sheath that reminded him of the one that belonged with Excalibur, if only in shape.

It wasn't until the last of his plans to find the ones intending to bring down Artoria came to an end that time horribly ran out.

One morning worry cried out amongst the people as it became known that Knights of the Round Table had vanished and with them their subordinates. A search was carried out to find them but even after three days not a trace of them could be found. Nevertheless, their disappearance led many to come up with troubling possibilities but it was only when a messenger arrived to deliver his last message that the truth became known.

The missing knights, their subordinates and Mordred were attacking the fortress under the command of one of the Round Table.

Discontent, mistrust and hatred had evolved into all too real civil war.

Fearing the all too real possibility that Camelot, the golden kingdom, would fall, he threw stealth to the side and went to the king to offer his full aid in putting down the traitors to protect the kingdom. Gawain profusely opposed this, insisting that he could not be trusted and that he should be executed before he could join Mordred. This was to be expected considering that Lancelot had killed Gawain's brothers during his rescue of Guinevere. In the end Artoria chose to side with Gawain and he was imprisoned in the dungeon to be dealt with after the revolt was put down.

The next person Lancelot saw filled him with great joy but also crushing grief.

Artoria along with almost all who had set out with her were dead.

The only twinkle of goodness being that Mordred and her forces has suffered the same fate.

Lancelot's world began to darken even if to others it remained the same, but with the help of the one who'd come to set him free he was able to leave the dungeon and from there the castle.

Who was this person?

Guinevere.

Against his expressed wishes she'd snuck away from his relatives in France to follow him back to Camelot, determined to share the burden with those she cared for. This was a sharp divergence from who she'd been, a woman who always did what was expected of her, but a welcome one, implying her time with Lancelot in France had strengthened her.

Upon leaving the dungeon the two began to make their way out of the castle and then beyond the wall through one of the breaches created by one of Mordred's catapults. It was only when Camelot was a mere spot on the horizon that Lancelot rose from his despair and asked Guinevere to take him to the lake where it all began. Apparently it was the former knight's decision that he was no longer fit to wield the fabled sword Arondight, even though the sword itself had not rejected him as its master.

She too did not see him as unworthy of such a holy sword but still she waited, wrapped in the waters of the lake, to either receive the blade as requested or persuade the man that there was still hope.

It was a short while later that she sensed the tarnished holy power of Arondight and so she turned to see Lancelot on Guinevere come over the hill, steps heavy with sorrow over what had transpired. This was to be expected considering all who had fallen and all that had been lost.

When a shimmer of dark blue light manifested a fair distance behind and to the left of them, concern welled within her. This was only proven right when the shimmering came to an end to reveal one of the worst threats possible.

Somehow Morgan Le Fay had survived the Battle of Camlann and now seemed intent on slaying the last two prominent members of Camelot in order to make her victory total.

"Lancelot! Defend yourself!" she cried out in fear, her soul quivering at the thought of losing him as well.

In a move that proved that while in the depths of despair and grief the knight still had a firm grip on the skills he'd honed through years of training, Arondight was brought up in the correct direction. Just in time, too, since a moment later a blast of magic impacted upon the blade, causing it to be diverted off to the side, missing both Camelot survivors but tearing the ground around them apart. Even tainted by the dishonor tied to the slaying of his fellow knights and defying his king, the holy sword still had its power to receive any attack and block it.

Morgan looked her way and glared at the ruining of her surprise attack but soon turned her attention back to her two targets.

"I was disappointed to not find you in your cell, Lancelot, but I am pleased since your escape has brought to me one more to feel my wrath," Morgan said with malicious politeness. "With your deaths Artoria's lie of kingdom will perish and I will be free to raise my own empire in its place, superior in every way. Camelot will be considered a filthy hovel by comparison!"

"Lie? Hovel!? You have no right to speak of the King that way! Not Artoria and not Camelot!" Lancelot yelled, life and light returning to his eyes. "You! You're the reason the hope for the future has been destroyed! And for what!? Revenge for a dead father's favoritism and a sister's noble dream! No! Your evil ends tonight!"

With that Lancelot charged Morgan, Arondight raised and ready, the intent to end the sorceress' life clear in his eyes. Whether it was due to fatigue from the previous battle or a lack of fear, the jealous daughter of Uther did not simply teleport to Lancelot's blindside before slaying him. Instead she fired spell after spell, altering their angles of approach in order to increase the odds of success, some directed at the former knight himself while others went to the dirt ahead of him. While quick and powerful, the former were not beyond Lancelot's ability to block. The latter took the form of vines, stone hands and arcane spears but they barely managed to graze their target for, with such a strong motivation propelling him onward, the former Knight of the Round Table was fighting in rare form. Barely a glimpse was needed to perceive, evaluate and then counter.

When it was clear that a ranged fight would not be possible, Morgan summoned eldritch armor to protect her body and a single sword that likely represented the totality of her magical might and her resolve.

A holy sword tainted by dishonor versus a sword generated by the blackest heart in all the land.

Was it any wonder that when the two clashed neither looked to be ready to shatter beneath the other's power?

Morgan was not anywhere close to her sister's equal in terms of swordsmanship but she minimized this vulnerability by casting illusions to distract and confuse Lancelot. While not always successful, it did turn what would've been a rather one sided sword fight into a battle where the outcome could swing either way depending on who was the first to miscalculate.

"You will not best me, Fallen Knight!" Morgan proclaimed as she swung her sword, only for it to be parried to the side. "Your time in hiding has weakened you. You are no longer the strongest! Only the STRONGEST has any hope of ending my life!"

"My body may have waned but my spirit burns all the brighter with the desire to avenge the deaths of so many noble souls!" Lancelot roared back, gathering power for a swing of his own. "The souls of Camelot demand vengeance and I will bring it to them!"

Arondight came down from above and this time when the two blades clashed Morgan's defense shook for a bit before effort firmed it up. The drain of maintaining the sword, the strength within her body and casting the distraction spells were beginning to take their toll on the woman. Morgan looked like she realized this as well, causing her attacks to become more frantic as well as incorporating attack spells in with the distractions. However as a result every swing of her sword became sloppier and there were times when its form wavered so, when Lancelot succeeded in knocking the weapon from her hands, it was not surprising.

"This is the end for you!" Lancelot declared, preparing to pounce on the golden opportunity in front of him.

"Perhaps… but where I go I will not be going alone!" Morgan said with a vicious sneer on her face.

For a moment she thought that that meant that the sorceress had some sort of spell at the ready to ensure mutual destruction, but that would not be Morgan's style. The foul woman reveled in in causing misery to her foes and simply taking her opponent into death with her rung false somehow. Only when she felt something from above and raised her gaze did she realize the truth.

"Lancelot! Above!" she cried out to warn him.

The knight did as she bid and looked up, and there he beheld Morgan's arcane sword but instead of dissipating upon travelling beyond the sorceress' ability to maintain it the weapon was descending back to Earth.

However it was not descending to strike down Lancelot… but Guinevere!

Lancelot realized this as well and, without a thought, he brought back his sword before throwing it with expert precision, shattering the energy weapon before it could reach the queen. This time the weapon of the sorceress did indeed dissipate into nothingness as its structural integrity was compromised beyond repair. Relief passed over her heart like a wave at the impressive save…

…but it turned into mounting horror when she heard a strangled gasp from Lancelot.

"NO!" she exclaimed as she moved towards the shore intent on intervening directly.

However, just as she came within steps of the shore, her sister Vivian rose to block her path.

"Sister?" she asked, confused at this sudden opposition.

"You know you cannot interfere, Nimue," Vivian replied, her watery face unflinching. "Our role is merely to set the stage for the desirable future. It is not to take direct action in the shaping process."

"The desirable future is on the verge of being lost! Camelot has fallen! Artoria and her knights have fallen!" she pleaded, knowing her time for saving Lancelot was growing shorter. "Our only hope is Lancelot and Guinevere! We must save them!"

"No. If Camelot and all who supported it have been lost then we will let the embers die and begin anew once a suitable beacon has been born," Vivian said, not moving from her position, figuratively or literally. "It may take time but, for beings such as the two of us, we have all the time in the world."

It had always been this way.

Where she had been the sort to let her emotions guide her actions, Vivian put her faith in calm and well thought out decisions that took in the big picture. In most cases her sister proved capable of persuading her of the wisdom of her strategies but in this she could not agree. While the humans did not live as long as their kind did or possess the ability to perceive the different aspects of the world, they had a worth equal to any fairy. It was why the two of them had been tasked with setting the conditions for a beacon, a leader, to appear in order to guide humanity out of the dark times that surrounded them.

But to simply let this wonderful dream of nobility perish because they could start over did not sit well with her.

She was about to press her case once more when she heard yet another strangled gasp but this time it was female in nature. Fearing it was Guinevere, she turned to the queen only to find the woman unharmed and that caused her to yank her gaze to the only other woman present.

Morgan Le Fey.

"Y-you… are not… the… only one… who refuses… to die… alone…" Lancelot ground out, a black blade buried to the hilt in his stomach and blood dribbling from his mouth.

Looking at Morgan, she was surprised to see that somehow Lancelot had come into the possession of a dagger that was both similar yet different to the one that the sorceress had used on him. However, while the knife that was embedded in Lancelot was indeed fatally placed, it looked to have no more special properties than to allow it to pierce armor effortlessly, the one plunged into Morgan more sinister in nature. Within seconds of her eyes perceiving what'd happened, the blonde sorceress' skin began to lose its color and in fright she pulled herself off the blade while letting go of the one she'd used on Lancelot.

"…you… sh-should not be… so careless…" Lancelot laughed with a malicious grin. "…though it seems… like that one… has s-something… extra… ungh!"

His fatal wound finally taking its toll, Lancelot dropped to one knee even as he spat up a mouthful of blood to stain the grass beneath him. However he soon recovered to sneer victoriously at Morgan La Fey, knowing that with his unexpected move he'd managed to gain a measure of vengeance for those of noble heart that had their dreams for the future shattered.

"Curse you… CURSE YOU! This is not the end! I will not permit this to be the end!" Morgan screamed even as her body continued to deteriorate. "Mark my words, Lancelot! Mark them WELL! Vengeance will come for you, you and all those of your bloodline, and I shall make it EVERLASTING!"

With one final scream of irrational fury Morgan appeared to evaporate into nothingness but she knew better than to take what she saw at face value. Sorcery was the manipulation of energy and matter to perform specific acts. Those that abided by the laws of nature, if not the world, were widely considered to be white magic and beneficial towards others. Those that violated these laws or tried to bring about the unnatural were considered to be black magic, with precious few methods bringing anything but pain or death. For one so obsessed with revenge and making her enemies suffer, she had little doubt that Morgan had reached deep into the darkness to gain what she desired.

Such darkness opened up many avenues for escaping death if one was willing to pay the price.

This could very well not be the last the world would see of Morgan Le Fay.

Turning back to Lancelot, she saw that Guinevere had rushed to his side, tears streaming down her cheeks as the fate of one who owned her heart became clear.

"Lancelot… you cannot… you CANNOT leave me!" Guinevere pleaded as she held her love in her arms. "You're all I have left!"

"You know… that isn't true… my love." Lancelot said softly as life began to leave him. "Return… to France. Your most… important duty… lies there."

These words seemed to temporarily disperse the woman's worry and sorrow, as though a memory had been triggered by Lancelot's words. In the end, with a sad look on her face, she nodded, tears still trickling down her cheeks.

"Oh ladies of the lake… I… have a… request…" Lancelot said, his words barely louder than a whisper.

"Speak it, Knight of the Round. We will listen even if we cannot promise to grant it." Vivian said, speaking with far less comfort than she would've been.

"Find… Arondight. Keep it… safe." Lancelot requested, his voice losing its strength all the while. "A day… will come when… it will be needed… and one will come to… claim it. The light… of the lake… will… shine… a… gain…"

With that Sir Lancelot Du Lac, proud knight of the Round Table, perished by the lake in the arms of the woman he loved.

Her eyes lowered in sadness as the spark that was intended to bring light to the world faded almost unto nothingness. Her wish to believe that the light might one day be rekindled motivated her to do as Lancelot requested regarding Arondight.

That and one other thing that was almost as powerful.

Time passed.

Fact became legend and legend into myth.

Before too long the entire world came to believe that King Arther and Camelot were nothing more than a tale of fantasy. That it was the story of a king too noble to be real and a kingdom too wonderful to have existed. Scholars and skeptics alike attributed elements of the story to more realistic people, places and things with the more fantastic elements dismissed as mere flavoring for the listeners.

Nevertheless, the tale of Arthur inspired many to try and follow his example.

Some did this merely by making a knight's code of ethics their own while others tried something more grandiose such as creating a kingdom just as great as Camelot.

Not surprisingly the more humble ones fared better than the ambitious ones.

Still, the number of times a person failed to adhere to the code of a knight without fail or create a kingdom of true nobility was seen as further proof that the story of King Arthur was fiction.

Indeed, as reason, logic and eventually science became the tools of choice for humanity and mankind trusted them to lead them to the truth.

Magic and the supernatural were the enemies of such tools, thus they were dismissed as nonsense.

Too bad for most of humanity denying something's existence does not make it so.

October 28th, 1997

Sunnydale, California, USA

Ethan's Costume Shop

Xander's POV

I cannot for the life of me understand why she's so obsessed with an undead corpse, he thought as he turned away from where Buffy and Willow were fawning over some fluffy dress.

To him it was a purely black and white situation.

Angel was a vampire; a corpse animated by a demonic spirit and somehow now under the control of a human soul supposedly of the original owner. He was an animated corpse that couldn't take sunlight and holy objects. An animated corpse that would never get old physically and would go on forever so long as he consumed a steady supply of blood. It was also a scientific fact that corpses could play host to any one of a number of diseases that Angel could be completely ignorant of but could seriously harm Buffy even if she was the Slayer. He could go on but he knew there was no point. He'd already voiced his dislike of Deadboy and his disapproval of the relationship Buffy had with him but it hadn't even been considered. Either it was written off as jealousy or the girls just went all wishy washy with romance, squealing about how romantic it was for opposites to fall in love with one another.

Against teenage dreams of romance, his rational thoughts held no sway.

Strolling through the store, he let his eyes wander as he tried to find something that suited his tastes. There were several classic superhero costumes hanging from hooks, along with the traditional monsters, but neither really appealed to him too much. The hero costumes were good but, much like their comic book counterparts, were made of materials intended to show off the muscles of those wearing them. Even with the progress he'd made with his body thanks to helping Buffy out with the slaying, he still wasn't confident enough to put his body on display like that. If he could bulk up a bit and get more definition with his muscles, perhaps, but he was a long way from managing that.

As for the monster costumes he just couldn't honesty wear them considering he'd either helped kill or probably would help kill them in the future. Dracula was a vampire so he hated the character with a fiery passion. Frankenstein was a little too like Chris Epps and his brother Daryl. The mummy… the mummy reminded him of Ampata and, while he understood the need to stop the Incan princess, he also didn't blame her for the lives she took. She was just trying to live, to live the life that'd been taken from her, and it was just crappy luck that she needed to drain people dry in order to make that possible. It was a crappy turn of luck just like Buffy getting Called to be the Slayer.

Nothing more.

It wasn't until he got to a small section, separate from the others, that he saw outfits that caught his eye. Being a comic book fan he'd read all sorts, from the traditional American ones to a few foreign ones that the local comic book and trading card shop occasionally got. From what he could see several of the costumes in this small section looked like the clothes worn by the main characters of Japanese manga, both male as well as female.

Deciding that it'd definitely set him apart from the rest of the chaperones, he began to look through the various options for guys in the section. Each one he evaluated by imagining how he'd look on it and how much he could remember about the character. He kept this up for about five minutes before he hit the jackpot in the form of a long-sleeved hooded cloak with a black cross with a snake draped around it. Taking the costume off the hook, he held it out in front of himself to get a better look at it and was pleased to see that almost all of the necessary pieces were there… except for the automail. He checked all over for it but couldn't find it.

I guess I could just wrap some tinfoil around my arm, he thought as his resourceful mind came up with cheap alternatives. Get a white glove somewhere here. It wouldn't be perfect but it'd do for the time being.

"Is there something I can do to help you, young man?" a Brit voice asked from behind him.

Not having sensed anyone approach, he jolted in surprise before turning around to face the person that'd surprised the bejeeses out of him. Standing before him was a dark haired man wearing a red dress shirt and gray pants, a smile on his face that everyone in the retail business practiced.

"Don't sneak up on people like that!" he exclaimed as he tried to calm his nerves.

"So sorry about that. Now, is there something wrong with the costume? I noticed you admiring it and then looking rather disappointed," the man asked with mild interest.

"Well, I know who this outfit belongs too and he's supposed to have a robot arm and leg but this costume doesn't have any," he explained, holding up the costume to show it was missing two things.

"Actually it does however they kept pulling the hanger off the hook with their weight," the man said, slowly turning away. "I'll go get them so you can take a look."

With that the man walked off and he was left wondering just what the costume arm and leg could be made of that it'd succeed in pulling a coat hanger off its hook. It was his understanding that most costumes and their associated props were made of cheap materials, with plastic taking the place of metal. Even if the leg and arm were made of quality plastics and solid pieces, they wouldn't be enough to pull everything to the floor.

He got his answer a short while later when the man returned carrying two metal limbs, an arm and a leg, and they were indeed made out of real metal. He could see straps where both opened up so you could put them on and, from the looks of things, Velcro was used to close things up placed in such a way that the contact points could be folded under the metal parts. Taking one of them from the man, he tested the sturdiness of the metal as well as the fabric beneath it, finding the former to be quality and the latter to be stretchy enough to wrap around his leg without difficulty. The arm looked to be the same, with both limbs being damn good copies of the ones drawn in the manga, to the point where you could almost believe they were real prosthetic body parts.

Only one thing worried him.

"How much? I only have twenty dollars on me," he confessed, unveiling the limit of his funds.

"Done. I'm new in Sunnydale, so the more people who're satisfied with their purchases, the better," the man said, agreeing to the limit of twenty bucks. "It will encourage future customers to come to me next Halloween."

Made sense.

Sacrifice some profits now for increased sales later.

"Sounds good to me. Let's ring it all up!" he declared with a smile.

With that they proceeded towards the register but along the way he spotted a bin with various costume odds and ends in it that didn't look like they belonged to any one costume. Instead it looked like they could be combined if one was imaginative enough. For him, though, what caught his attention was a pair of white gloves similar to the ones that came with the costume. Now, while the character that he'd be dressing up as was cool enough, there was another one in the manga that made him smile every time he thought of what he could do to vamps if he could do the same thing.

Grinning, he grabbed the gloves to add to the rest of the outfit.

He was pretty sure he could do some quick work with a marker at home to get the right array drawn on it.

If anyone asked why the person he was going out as had it, since there was no mention of it in the manga, he'd just say that shorty got ambitious and decided he'd beat the colonel at his own game.

The kid definitely had the sort of temper that'd inspire such a course of action.

Across the Atlantic Ocean

Camulodunum, West Yorkshire, Great Britain

October 31st

Deep Within the Oldest Lake in the Area

Nimue's POV

How much time had passed?

A thousand years? More?

Even for one of the fairy race for whom time meant something different than it did for humans, she still felt its eroding effects, albeit not as keenly as mankind. Ever since that tragic day so long ago she had sat in the same lake, waiting for the day when a place like Camelot might rise again to help humanity mature and grow. Both she and Vivian had kept watch on the humans through any body of water that proved advantageous looking for the one with the same potential that Artoria had possessed. Some failed miserably while others came close, very close in a few rare cases, but none were good enough for her elder sister in the end. They all possessed some flaw that her sibling believed would only lead to a warping of the intended purpose or simply bring about a fall much sooner than it had in Camelot's case.

It didn't help, of course, that the forces of darkness and the forces of light seemed determined to keep mankind in its place by whatever means necessary.

Or that humanity had chosen to abandon the old ways in favor of their cold science.

Both obstacles stifled the creation of the leader she and her sister desired. With groups like the Powers That Be determined to have their plans followed to the letter, they often acted to block, if not outright ruin, the plans of others if the two ideas did not mesh properly. The forces of darkness worked to hold back man because they knew that their kind were outnumbered substantially and knew that if humanity were to get its act together, their days on Earth would be numbered.

As for the last bit, by abandoning belief in those things that they now considered myth, superstition and nonsense, an impressive obstacle was put in the path she desired humanity walk. Belief, after all, was key to the successful execution of magic and being able to communicate with beings beyond the realm of conventional life forms. Without it spells would fail every time and humans would be lucky to perceive her kind, much less be able to participate in a conversation.

Vivian claimed that there was still hope since various small mage organizations existed throughout the world but she was skeptical about that. The Mage's Association and the Holy Church were two of the most prominent, even if the latter looked down upon former. There were other smaller ones but none of them could match the Association or the Church in terms of numbers or power. In any case, while the total number of people in each association was not small, it still represented only an infinitesimal fraction of the total human population. As such there was only a small chance of finding the one they sought within their ranks and it was entirely possible that the true hopeful was not a part of these organizations at all but existed outside of them. She'd tried to convince Vivian of this but it was the elder sibling's opinion that all those relevant would find their way to an official organization sooner or later.

Too bad sooner or later might not be soon enough.

Humanity was reaching a point where they could destroy themselves and the entire planet either through science or through sorcery. It was also a fact that, while the core elements of good and evil understood the necessity of not overdoing things, there were rogue elements as well as radical factions. Those groups would have no interest in maintaining a balance but would rather work towards achieving total victory over their enemies while acquiring the best possible spoils to enjoy afterwards. Just like the humans, the dangerous elements of the light and the darkness were refining their methods with every attempt at victory, with it only being a matter of time before one of them succeeded.

The world needed a leader!

It needed someone who would finally shatter the chains placed on humanity by those who thought they had the right to control the fate of a species.

One of the governing principles of the mission she and her sister shared was that they could only get the ball rolling but that it was up to the ball to decide what to do after that. However the demons and the Powers That Be didn't just create the circumstances, they used their agents to force things to go in the direction they wanted it to go and the demons did likewise. As such their way, the fairy way, was the most just and fair.

It was as she was about to float off to consume sustenance that she sensed someone at the lake's edge tapping the surface with a finger imbued with magic in a very specific pattern she knew all too well.

Shocked and more than a little curious, she swam towards the edge and, once she got close enough to the surface, she could see that it was a figure in a forest green hooded cloak that was doing the tapping. Upon reaching the surface she drew up the water to create the form she always used when interacting with one of another race.

"For what reason has one of the Elven race come to this lake?" she asked, recognizing one of the oldest and hidden non-human races on the planet.

"Lady Nimue… know that I have come here against the wishes of my people to deliver important news," the she-elf replied, head bowed out of respect. "News of the human world as seen by one of our prophets."

This was indeed serious.

The elves were a tightly knit community and it was almost unthinkable for one of them to act against the will of the whole. More than that, a vision by one of their prophets was a valued treasure that often proved crucial in protecting their people from serious harm. To pass along such information to an outsider, even a fairy, was something that would have serious repercussions when the she-elf returned home. Therefore whatever this vision contained, it was important.

"What did your prophet see?" she asked, waiting with a metaphorically held breath.

"He saw a faraway place shrouded in the mists of hell within which a human town resided. However, within the mists there was a young human male that was not like the others," the she-elf replied with eyes that were serious and never wavered. "Though surrounded by darkness the male is not tainted by it. However soon the mark of the two faced Roman will descend upon the male and a conflict between two sources of luminescence will occur. It will be a conflict that will likely lead to the end of the male."

"Likely?" she asked, knowing that, even with some things depending on interpretation, Elvish visions were usually clearer than 'likely'.

"All that the prophet saw was the male's outline before his right arm and left leg exploded outwards, showering the area with blood and flesh," the she-elf replied, her eyes still focused. "Given that this is a human, we're talking about it is unlikely that he could survive such wounds."

True.

Unless they were of mixed blood with one half being of a particularly hardy race or had the sense to prepare for such an injury, they were almost certain to die.

"While a tragic future to learn that a human will perish by coming into contact with Janus, why have you brought this news to me?" she asked, having been given one more reason to seek a new leader of humanity soon.

"Because one of the luminescence involved bears a close connection to you. A VERY close connection," the she-elf replied, raising a hand to point.

This shocked her so much she almost lost her grip on the water she'd employed to take on physical form. A human male with a light inside of him that reacted poorly when it came into contact with the energy of a deity. A human male with light that was connected very strongly to her and made the she-elf bring her this news. For a split second she thought of one such person who would fit the bill but dismissed it when she considered his worldview and how he'd chosen to spend his days since the last time she'd seen him. The death of his parents had affected him greatly, as had the context in which they'd died. It was these things from which his personal mission sprang forth and, foolishly, her attempt to set him on the right path only made things worse.

However if it was not him, that could only mean…

All at once a possibility entered her mind and, while it seemed borderline fantastic, the knowledge base did indicate that it was not impossible.

"I thank you for this information, fair elf," she said with a respectful bow. "Rest assured that what you have conveyed, I will be put to good use."

"It is an honor to aid a lady of the lake," the she-elf said before standing up and walking away.

Without further delay she abandoned her watery form and descended towards the spot in the lake where from she could travel to virtually any other natural body of water in the world. While she might not know which town the she-elf spoke of, she had the three clues she'd need to get there: demonic energy, an inner luminescence connected to her and the presence of Janus. Once she reached the gateway she would reach out for and zero in on a place where all three things were present.

That would be where she would go.

She would go to save the light and perhaps use it to create the spark of change the world needed.

Sunnydale, California, USA

The Summers Residence

Xander's POV

This is gonna be cool even if it means I gotta chaperone a bunch of elementary kids, he thought as he stepped up to the front door of Buffy's house.

He'd managed to sneak back into his house after school and get to the place where he'd hidden his Halloween costume without too much trouble. It'd been hidden beneath a bunch of old power tools that Tony had once used but had since abandoned in favor of booze bottles of various sizes. After that he'd gotten dressed and, with a little work, managed to get the fake metal limbs wrapped around his own without too much difficulty. He'd been a bit worried that he'd wind up stretching the metal parts too far away from one another and exposing the elastic material beneath, but after looking in a mirror he was satisfied. It still looked precisely the way it did in the manga and it wasn't hard at all for him to move about. After that he'd grabbed a marker, one of the manga volumes that clearly showed the alchemic array he wanted, and draw the image onto the second set of gloves he'd purchased. With everything completed he left his home and headed for Buffy's place since that's the place they agreed to meet up before heading to the school.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

He didn't have to wait long for someone to come to the door, nor had he expected to have to wait long. With the sound of footsteps reaching his ears he soon beheld the door opening to reveal one Joyce Summers, mother of Buffy 'The Vampire Slayer' Summers, and baker of some of the finest cookies he'd ever eaten. What surprised him a bit, though, was the fact that she didn't look like she usually did when he came over to see her daughter.

The thing that stood out the most at first was the big old mess of hair on her head that almost went all the way down to her feet. Only loosely controlled by a purple strip of fabric, he was left wondering if the wig (at least he assumed it was a wig) was supposed to look like that or if it'd gotten messed up somehow. Next came a dark green, light green and white colored outfit that definitely made him think that it'd come out of a cartoon rather than some live action show.

All in all it was unique but it also caused an itch to be born in the back of his head because he was sure it was something he should be able to identify.

"What's with the dress up, Missus S? I didn't think you'd get into the holiday spirit," he said, finishing his appraisal of her appearance.

"I'm hosting a Halloween party at the gallery and one of the requirements I sent out with the invitations was that they had to dress up as someone or something featured there," Missus S replied as she gestured for him to enter. "I could hardly be the odd one out, could I?"

"Guess not but… your outfit doesn't strike me as a Mona Lisa or a Van Gogh type outfit."

"Well, I guess you're right about that," she said in agreement as she closed the door behind him. "I got the idea from one of the Japanese artists that sends me paintings every now and again. Most the time he just does Edo period paintings but, according to the note he sent, he got the costume idea from his daughter when asked him to do it. She challenged him to do something based on contemporary Japanese TV and apparently this is what he took a liking to."

"Well, he has good taste, I can tell you that," he said before letting a goofy smirk show on his face. "Maybe you should hire him to do a portrait of you? Put it right in front of the gallery so everyone'll know who owns it."

Joyce just laughed at that but he could see a bit of a blush on her cheeks at the compliment that he'd mixed in with his humor.

Hearing footsteps at the top of the stairs, he looked and saw Buffy stepping into view, wearing the poofy dress she'd been gushing over at the costume shop. While he couldn't lie and say she didn't look good in it, he also had no intention of reinforcing her puppy love attraction to Deadboy by complimenting her on it, even if he did consider her a friend. If he couldn't outright reject or discourage the relationship, he'd have to content himself with doing absolutely nothing to encourage it. Fortunately for him Giles wasn't doing anything to encourage it either.

"Nice outfit, Xan," Buffy said, striding down the stairs, "but who're you supposed to be?"

"Allow me to present myself: Lieutenant Edward Mustang, State Alchemist." He performed a crisp military salute.

He knew he could've just gone as Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist, but he didn't think it'd work since the character was shorter than the average adult woman. Plus it'd be easier to explain to any interested people that he was the godson of Edward Elric and the biological son of Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye. It also saved him from the trouble of having kids pull at the long blonde hair of the wig that'd come with the costume, since he just KNEW that one of the kids would try something like that. It'd also explain why he had white gloves that had the alchemic array Roy used to earn the name 'The Flame Alchemist'.

"State Alchemist? Like some kind of scientist?" Buffy asked, not quite seeing how the costume he wore fit such a job.

"Something like that," he replied, figuring that trying to explain things was pointless.

While not ignorant of pop culture, Buffy's interests tended to favor the mainstream forms of entertainment, so she'd probably never even heard of Japanese manga, never mind read one of the translated copies.

"Well, wait until you see Willow!" Buffy said, turning to look back up the stairs. "She's a complete-"

Looking in the same direction as Buffy, he'd expected to see something daring and bold since he knew the blonde wanted to do what she could to convince Willow to come out of her shell. Instead what he saw was a figure wearing a ghost costume that concealed everything from head to toe. There was no mistaking the disappointment on Buffy's face but to him this was nothing new. While in the beginning his best friend had been like anyone else in that she wished to dress up like her heroes or as something that others would think of as cool. However a run-in with a particularly cruel bunch of trick or treaters a few years older than her had left her an emotional mess and from that day on she'd only chosen concealing costumes. Apparently Buffy had tried to put his best bud into something more sexy and daring but it'd all collapsed probably around the time Willow'd heard his voice.

"Nice boo you got there, Willow," he said with a reassuring smile.

"You look good, too, Xander," Willow said with a muffled voice.

"Well, we'd better get going," Buffy said, heading for the door. "We've got just enough time to get there before Snyder's deadline."

"You three be careful out there. Take care of the kids," Missus S said as the door opened. "I'll make sure to have some snacks waiting for you when you get back later."

"Thanks, Missus S!" he said, looking over his shoulder.

"C'mon, Xan! The clock's ticking!" Buffy snapped, grabbing hold of his arm and pulling him towards the door.

With only a halfhearted wave he left the house, hoping that the kids he got stuck with didn't turn out to be brats and would be receptive to the idea of learning the art of getting the most sweets from him.

If they did turn out to be brats it was going to be a LONG two hours.

A Lake A Short Distance From Sunnydale's Outermost Edge

Nimue's POV

Curse that mortal sorcerer for warding Sunnydale so well! she thought as she rose from the water, taking on her humanoid form.

It had not taken her long to find a place where all the elements of the prophet's vision existed in close proximity but a town built atop a Hellmouth was not a place she would normally want to go. To fairies such places were akin to the foulest smelling swamps capable of being imagined by a mortal's mind and therefore were avoided. In this case, though, she had no other option if what she thought was going to happen did wind up happening. Thus she had made several attempts to open a pathway to a body of water closest to her target only to be opposed by a series of wards that denied her access. Recognizing them as a form of human magic, she had used her centuries of learning and experience to attempt to pierce them but, as time continued to flow, she changed her objective to this lake since it was outside of the ward's field of effect.

Now she had to do something that few fairies tried because of the risk involved.

She had to use her magic to create a physical body.

Normally her kind were completely invisible to the other races unless they used a medium, water in her case, to create a host body that could be perceived by those races. However in those situations they never strayed far from the environment with which they shared an affinity. For her sister and her they never strayed far from the water's edge and made sure that she could return to it in the blink of an eye. In this case, however, she would need to form a body that would allow her to cross the distance between where she was and where the one she sought was currently located.

Drawing upon the power of her element, she began to infuse her form with more power, granting it greater resiliency and longevity than it otherwise would've had. She then began to draw more water from the lake to compress it within her form without having to expand the size of the body she was creating. While part of her power came from her soul, the rest of it came from her chosen element, so by storing additional water within she could extend the time limit for staying away from a body of water. Finally she used her power to influence the dirt and the vegetation at the lakes edge to coat her liquid form in 'skin' and 'hair' in order to better blend in with the humans that lived in the town. It would not be perfect, the elements of her coating could not be anything but what they were, after all, but they would grant a greater solidity than water and an illusion would at least make her appear human.

It was with mild fatigue that she completed her work, judging that it would last long enough to do what she wished to do and return to the lake before her existence was put in danger. Satisfied with her work, she ran towards the town covered in the mists of hell, hoping that, while she could not travel there directly via water, she could still enter it physically. As she felt herself pass through the wards that'd originally blocked her, she felt more optimistic about her chances even if her caution also increased. She had indeed entered the formerly obstructed area without difficulty but she knew that the constructor of the wards would definitely have detected her passage. Whether or not this person would act to obstruct her further was uncertain but she was determined to prevent the vision of the Elven prophet from coming to pass.

She would prevent the light of the lake from being extinguished.

She would save the one she had waited so long for!

It took a couple of minutes to get deep into the town but, once she was there she cast out a net with her senses to find the one she sought. Already she could sense the gathering power of Janus but from what she could discern it had not yet been put to any real use. However she could also sense that it would not be long before the contrary light would unleash its effects and the nightmare would spring forth like a deadly cloud. It was after a few minutes of looking that she found what she sought and she could not help but smile broadly at what her senses were telling her firsthand.

The luminescence that the Elven prophet spoke of did have a connection to her but in such a profound way that no description was adequate.

Locking her senses on the source she began to run, once more navigating the streets in the most direct path possible to the person she wanted to save. She knew she probably looked a little odd, even wearing illusion of an ordinary woman, but she ignored the looks they sent her way. Closer and closer she got, sharpening the lock she had on the luminescence becoming stronger even as it allowed her to learn more about it. The light was not as strong as it'd been in the last man who'd possessed it but it had a tenacity that allowed it to remain pure even when surrounded by the foul air that engulfed the town. There was a strong heart connected to it and a noble spirit, albeit one that felt like it'd been tempered by hardship as well as disappointment. It did not have the shine that Artoria's soul had possessed but it was still encouraging to her nonetheless.

Turning a corner, she finally laid eyes on the one she sought.

A young man of seventeen years with dark brown hair wearing a crimson coat, a black shirt and black pants guiding a group of children along as they collected treats from the various houses. Looking at his face, she could see, if only faintly, a resemblance to the one she remembered from so long ago.

It gave her hope.

Firming her resolve, she began to approach him with the intent of using her power to place spells of protection on him that would keep the power of Janus from touching the young man. It would only require a few minutes of direct contact to place them on him and then she could leave reassured that all hope had not died just yet.

It was when she was halfway to him though that the power that until then had just been gathering strength shifted moods to a deep and powerful longing.

A longing to do what it'd been called upon to do!

"NO!" she cried out, knowing in the depths of her spirit what was about to occur.

The young man heard her and turned to look at her with curious and questioning eyes but a few seconds later it looked as though he could sense the power descending upon him. Unlike the others being touched by the power that made the transition almost instantly, the one she sought suffered a far more painful transition. This was to be expected from two opposing forms of energy colliding with one another and attempting to achieve dominance over the other. The light that was connected to her, however, was diluted whereas Janus' power was pure since it came straight from the source, so even as the former fought against the latter, it was a frantic fight. Physically the young man appeared paralyzed in place by the conflict even as his muscles violently shook in place as the urge to move was countered by the paralysis. Eventually, though, the fight could not be contained within a physical form any longer.

That is when the true horror began.

What started as a single bloody hole bursting through the sleeve of the crimson jacket soon became two, then three, then all at once the length of cloth was rent asunder by the forces unleashed beneath. She gasped in shock at the sight of not an injured arm but simply a bloody stump that only went past the shoulder by an inch or two. The youth cried out in pain but this only served as a signal for yet more suffering to occur as the left pant leg began to follow the lead of the right jacket sleeve. This finally seemed to shatter the paralysis that held the young man upright, causing him to fall to the ground even as the trauma of the lost limbs and the ongoing struggle within him continued to cause him great pain.

It was this change in circumstance that finally broke her own paralysis of shock and, with the speed of a body that was not limited to human standards, she arrived at his side. Drawing on her power she worked to heal his wounds, prioritizing the cessation of the bleeding from the stumps since they would lead to his demise quicker than the war going on within him. However, much to her dismay, she found that using her power to heal only escalated the conflict as it came into contact with the young man's body. Even as she saw signs that her magic was closing the wound, it was a slow process since she was forced to push Janus' power away from the wound in order for any mending to be done.

She winced every time the teenager's voicing of his pain reached a new level and it had her wondering if his mind would survive even if she successfully managed to keep his body from perishing. It was a fact after all that the human mind could only take so much torture, so much pain and suffering, before it shattered becoming a distorted version of itself or retreating inward never to appear again.

"Ahhh!" she exclaimed when a piece of metal that she had not detected near the leg stump was propelled out of the teenager's body and managed to pierce her hand.

Out of reflex she withdrew her hand but as she did so a drop of the power enriched water that made up her current form fell out of the temporary wound…

…And landed on the symbol the youth had drawn on the sole intact glove comprised of a circle with two overlapping pyramids in the middle, a lizard at the inner bottom of the circle and a crude flame icon at the top of the circle.

In response to this contact, the drawing on the glove began to emit a strong blue light even as tiny arcs of energy akin to electricity danced across it.

However before she could worry she felt a surge of power unfamiliar to her and then, out of thin air, a stone structure began to appear little by little. Once it progressed to a certain point she could see a dark grey archway with twin pillars on either side and two slabs on the top. Decorating each pillar and holding up one slab while standing on each the other were obsidian statues of humans, both male and female, and while they were faceless she could tell that each was enduring unimaginable hardship. In the middle were twin doors that met in the center and together they had engraved upon them an almighty eye surrounded by an aura of power, or at least that was what she felt the rays around the eye were meant to convey.

"What… is this?" she asked, never once having seen such an edifice of power or heard of something similar.

"Humans refer to it as The Gate," a voice that defied classification of any kind replied but at the same time was completely understandable.

Turning towards the source, she found herself having as much difficulty perceiving it as she had classifying the qualities of the voice. It was a humanoid form but there was no definition that she could perceive, whether it be the eyes, the nose or even skin tone. Nevertheless her senses could almost perceive the being's nature and it was unmistakable that while The Gate was indeed powerful, the incomprehensible being made it look like a mere toy by comparison. As such she knew that she had to choose every word from there on out carefully yet quickly since she still needed to save the young man in front of her.

"Why has it appeared and why have you come?" she asked, hoping to gain more information in order to understanding the situation better.

"I am one who regulates the exchanges of alchemy and delivers judgment upon those who trespass into the domain of God." The being advanced towards her without moving its legs. "The Gate and I are here because of him."

An overseer.

One who claimed to manage an entire discipline of magic as its domain.

She knew all too well that such beings were often difficult to understand and could become upset without warning, depending on what words were spoken or actions taken.

"He has touched upon your jurisdiction?" she asked, hoping to find out just what the young man's status was so she could choose what to do next.

"Worry not, fairy. He has not broken the rule of equivalent exchange or tread upon God's domain. I was… curious," the being said, very oddly sounding like it was trying to comfort her. "He is one who has become two by another's actions and yet is paying a price without asking for anything. I am uncertain as to how to resolve this contradiction."

Equivalent exchange? A process by which for something given up one obtains something of equal value? Then perhaps something can be gained from this, she thought as she looked at the youth that'd brought her here.

She only prayed that she did not wind up making things worse.

"Then might I suggest I way to balance the exchange?" she asked, waiting to see if it might be insulting for a fairy like her to suggest anything.

"You have an idea?" the being asked, sounding a bit amused.

"Yes, I do. If you could somehow purge this youth of the power of Janus and keep it from him until the spell cast this night has ended, I believe it would balance the scales," she replied, not wanting to ask for too much but also needing some assistance in healing the teenager.

"A fair reward for the price paid but ultimately pointless," the being said, considering the idea for a moment before shaking its head. "The light within this human has already awakened. He cannot return to the life he had before and, amidst this foul energy, he will likely come to greater harm."

"Then perhaps you have a solution to solve the dilemma?" she asked as respectfully as she could towards the obviously superior being.

"Perhaps, however it will require blessed and enchanted metals in order to carry out," the being said, indeed sounding as though it had a plan in mind.

"Then we are fortunate for I have brought with me blessed metal," she said before summoning from within her being that which she… borrowed… from its place in fairy lands.

While her sister might be content with surveying potential successors from a distance, she preferred to take a more direct approach. Motes of light gathered together, becoming shards and, when they made the journey from energy to steel, their identity became clear. Almost a millennia and a half ago these sharp metal fragments were whole and comprised a sword whose name was spoken of in legend for its role in raising one up to become king. However it had also made that same king arrogant, resulting in the blade being broken when it was pitted against another blade possessing no small amount of power of its own. Ever since then the shards of the broken sword had been kept safe for the day when the next potential king arose so their potential could indeed be confirmed.

When she'd heard of the prophecy of the Elven prophet, she'd felt a calling as though a defining moment was upon the world and this had been enough for her to retrieve the shards.

Upon the last of the sword fragments becoming solid matter once more, she decided to place them close to the youth to see if the calling she'd felt meant what she believed it did. At first there was no reaction from the magic still residing in the shards so she levitated them closer and, once they got to within three inches, an inner golden light began to rise from them. It was not as strong a reaction as when its last wielder pulled it from its grey sheath but the potential was indeed there.

For her that was enough.

"Here is the blessed metal," she said to the being holding the shards out for inspection.

"Then all we require are metals enchanted with strong magic," the being said as it looked about the town, like it could see further and more than any mortal eyes could. "I can see many but they are tainted by dark magic and would only harm him. A few are still pure but they are far from here and he will not live that long."

"What if… what if I used my magic to purify them? Use my own power to make up for whatever might be lost?" she asked, knowing that if she was to gain what she desired she would need to sacrifice something.

"It may be enough. Be warned, though, that even if we succeed you will be quite weak," the being said, pointing out an important piece of information.

Indeed, she likely would be weak, perhaps too weak to make it beyond the wards that'd kept her from travelling directly into the town, but when the teenager on the ground cried out in pain weaker than before, she made her choice.

"I am prepared," she said, eyes firm with resolve.

"Then let us begin," the being said kneeling down to place a hand on the ground.

Like serpents perpetually lunging forth to strike, crackling blue energy fled the point of contact, following random paths until they disappeared from sight. Then, as though the energy was a form of summons, pieces of metal began to be pulled from the ground, cracking the street and sidewalk while also overturning the grass in the front lawns they touched. While most could be considered average industrial metals commonly used by humans, others to her surprise she saw also metals that would never be used for infrastructure but would be used in various forms of magic. In any case, the combination would indeed meet the needs of the being she now found herself working with.

As a result, once the metals were close enough, she brought forth her power, focusing on purifying them of their hellish taint while also imbuing them with arcane energy that would remain for as long as the metal did. Oddly enough the flow of metal fragments did not last as long as she had first thought but that did not mean that the fatigue was less. Given time to pace herself, purifying and enchanting the metal fragments would require at least three days to accomplish but, if the youth close to her was to be saved, she did not have that time. As a result she was forced to push her power, her mind and her skill to their limits in order to accomplish in three minutes what normally would take three days.

In the end her work was done and indeed she could not find any sort of certainty that she would be able to return to the lake outside of town that she used to come to this part of the world.

"The ingredients are gathered and prepared," the being declared with both the fragments she'd brought from home as well as the ones she'd prepared here hovered in the air. "Now I shall show you my design for the young man's salvation."

With movement akin to a steel trap snapping shut, the being clapped both of its hands together before pointing both palms in the direction of the young man. Blue light exploded into existence along with SIGNIFICANTLY more of the electricity-like energy from before but soon it became too much for even her to look at forcing her to turn away.

And when she looked back, she beheld a sight that conclusively confirmed that she'd made the right decision.

The Apartment of Rupert Giles

November 1st, Evening

Xander's POV

"Uhhhh… why do I feel like Buffy's been using me for a punching bag for twelve hours straight?" he asked as soon as enough coherency and consciousness returned to his mind.

"Suffice it to say that you may prefer that that was the case instead of the truth," G-Man replied with a mix of Brit wit and seriousness.

Opening his eyes, he almost immediately shut them in order to block out the lights from the ceiling. Once his eyes adjusted, though, he opened them and realized that he was in the Watcher's apartment on the couch and of course this led to the ever predictable question: how did I get here?

"What do you remember of Halloween night?" Giles asked in response.

"I remember getting to school and getting a bunch of elementary school kids dumped on me. One of them definitely had plans for pushing all my buttons all night long," he replied, thinking back to what'd probably been a dozen or so hours ago. "We were just about to angle back towards the school when I got this weird feeling and…. and…"

All of a sudden memories of pain, terrible pain, exploded in his mind, causing him to bring his right hand up like he often did after eating ice cream too fast. The pain was pure mental, pure memory, but it was still fresh and it made him wonder what the hell had happened and why he wasn't in a hospital. Anything that could cause a human being that kind of pain was definitely something that'd need medical attention soon afterward but instead he was in G-Man's apartment. To him that meant that whatever had hurt him was not something that modern medicine could deal with and would draw too much attention. That left magic or some kind of demon goo that only the Watcher would be able to fix. As the terrible memories faded, he lowered his right arm but this wound up introducing a new problem to his life: it wasn't the flesh and blood hand he remembered having.

In its place looked like some kind of cyborg arm that was kinda like Edward Elric's from the manga but looked more like the arm armor you'd see a knight of a round table wear. Only real difference was that whoever had made it had designed it so that it'd be slim enough for him to put on a shirt over it if he wanted to. Most of the metal of the arm was white in color, with gold trim along the edges of each piece, with the… the… pauldron, the shoulder piece, having stenciled into it a surprisingly detailed Celtic cross. The cross wasn't solid gold in color but rather had bits of some sort of blue metal mixed in to give the overall design a more artistic flare.

Of course that was when his mind stopped its detached examination of the metallic limb and wondered what the hell it was doing attached to his body.

"What the hell!?" he exclaimed as he got to his feet, only to stumble when he put his left foot down but received the surprise of not receiving the usual tactile stimulus.

Looking down, he could see that what'd been done to his right arm also had been done to his left leg, with clear signs that the designer of the former had also been involved in the latter. The only difference being that instead of a Celtic cross being on at the top of the synthetic limb it was supposed to protect the front of the knee. From this angle he could see that the metal started from about mid-thigh and that there was an interface ring of sorts permanently implanted into his body, with signs that the leg could be detached if necessary.

Of course that wasn't something he was particularly concerned with at the moment.

Nope.

He was more concerned with the fact that on Halloween he had a completely fleshy human body and now he had two limbs replaced with oddly advanced prosthetics. Now some people in his position might've tried to convince themselves that someone had put some kind of costume piece over his arm and leg making it LOOK like he'd lost them but he knew the truth. If he angled either limb just right he could see through clearly to the other side and, when he took the time to tap into his sense of touch, he was getting nothing from the synthetic limbs. He could feel them move because of how the change in position interacted with the 'docks' they were attached to but when he reached out to touch a table he got nothing. No sensation of smoothness or temperature or texture; just how the arm pressed against the dock in response to him pressing the metal hand against the table.

"Giles?" he asked simply, desperately wanting the man to either disprove what his mind believed or at least reassure him that everything could be put back to the way it had been before Halloween.

"From what Buffy and Willow were able to tell me around the time you… lost consciousness, a spell was cast, causing all who bought a costume or an accessory from a specific store turned into whoever or whatever they pretended to be. Willow took on all of the characteristics of a ghost and Buffy genuinely believed she was an eighteenth century noblewoman."

Following that line of logic, it would imply that when he'd been hit with the spell he'd been transformed into the original character from the Fullmetal Alchemist manga.

"But then why… why's this stuff still here?" he asked, gesturing at his mechanical limbs. "Shouldn't it have gone back to normal when the spell broke?"

"If the changes you underwent were more conventional, your limbs would indeed have returned to normal. However, based on the evidence, I fear that your situation is somewhat more dire," Giles replied, looking like a sizeable amount of discomfort was trying to get through his composure.

"What kind of evidence?" he asked and wondered just how bad his situation really was.

For a moment it looked like the Watcher was considering cooking up some kind of lie but instead chose the honesty route.

"Willow found you after the spell took effect and apparently there was quite a bit of blood pooled around you. Your right sleeve and left pant leg had been torn to pieces," Giles replied with an expression that implied the imagery bothered him as well. "There were also… pieces of… flesh… scattered about."

Contrary to what Snyder and some of the other teachers might've thought, he wasn't an idiot.

Blood plus fleshy bits could mean only one thing: the spell had destroyed his natural arm and leg before giving him new metal ones. Therefore, if his real limbs were destroyed, he only had two choices: get used to the metal ones or find a way to get some replacement limbs surgically attached. He would very much like for the latter to be possible but cloning limbs were still in the realm of science fiction and it wasn't like someone would be willing to hack off their arm and leg so he could have them.

"I don't suppose there's a magic spell or something to grow new limbs?" he asked, hoping the supernatural could fix things.

"Sadly healing magic is notoriously difficult to learn and even harder to master. While there do exist those who could probably heal your body or create new limbs for you, their services would not come cheaply," Giles replied, sounding doubtful that success could be found through the occult. "I doubt we could secure their services without the aid of the Council and that is not likely to occur."

"Why not?" he asked, wondering why a group that was supposed to help people would withhold it in his case.

"There is something of a… chasm between the Watcher's Council the organization of magic users known as the Mage's Association, of which the people who could help you are members. Officially the Council wants nothing to do with them due to their reckless and dangerous conduct where sorcery is concerned," Giles replied, sounding like he didn't agree with this viewpoint. "Unofficially the Council has few magic practitioners who can claim to be equal to an educated member of the Association, much less one well versed in useful fields of sorcery. Due to some rather offensive behavior on the part of the Association representatives that first met with the Council three centuries ago, my superiors have chosen to hold a grudge. It would likely take a rather humble and honest apology from the Association's leader coupled with some sort of 'gift' to cause Travers to officially initiate formal relations with them."

"So basically because someone got snotty and someone got pissy, the two groups aren't talking to one another?" he asked with bubbling anger.

"Precisely," Giles replied, looking like he agreed that the two sides should just get over their past issues and cooperate.

"Can't you contact these Association guys yourself?" he asked, figuring that if the Council was the problem then don't involve them.

"Unfortunately the centuries of sour contact between the two organizations has made it so simply picking up a phone and contacting them unlikely. As the Watcher for the current Slayer, it is quite likely they have my name 'flagged' as well as my location," Giles replied, taking his glasses off to clean them. "There are back channels I can employ but it would take weeks for the message to reach someone in the Association and the same amount of time for them to reply. Even if they are able to help, it is likely that they would have to be rather paranoid with their travel plans to ensure they arrived here unobstructed."

In other words, because the Association and the Council couldn't get along, it'd take forever for someone from the former to come and fix him.

Placing one foot on the floor and then the prosthetic one, he attempted to stand only to stumble enough that he had to place a hand on the coffee table to keep from falling to the ground. Adjusting the position of his feet one at a time, he did his best to stand up fully and this time managed it with minimal unsteadiness but it was odd. With his real leg he could feel the floor beneath it in all its tactile texture but with the metal leg he felt nothing beyond some additional pressure where the metal met flesh. If not for that little bit of pressure, he wouldn't know that anything was there at all. The same was the case for the metal right arm as he waved it about again and again with each movement being more vigorous than the last. He could not feel the passage of air above and below his arm but he could sense the shifting of the pressure where the arm prosthesis connected to his torso as he executed the movements.

"It will take some time for you to adjust to your new limbs. Months, perhaps," Giles said gently, looking as though he knew someone who'd lost a limb in the past. "You'll need to relearn much, find out where your center of gravity is, but I imagine that you will have an easier time than most amputees. Even the latest in prosthetic technology cannot compare to your arm and leg. It will just take time."

"In case you've forgotten, I don't exactly have a lot of that," he pointed out as an important bit of data occurred to him. "I've got all day today and Sunday before I have to show up back in school or catch hell from Snyder. I doubt even Wild Bill would bet on me mastering my new body parts by then."

"You could always claim that you were injured Halloween night and need time to recover. That should buy you sufficient time to gain some mastery and the rest can be explained away as lingering side effects," Giles suggested, thinking his idea feasible.

"This is Snyder we're talking about, Giles. SNYDER. I tell him that he'll want an official doctor's note and probably something signed by my parents before he'll believe it," he said, shaking his head in dismissal of the idea. "Willow might be able to pull something off with her computer skills but there's no way in hell either of my folks'll go along with it."

"Yes, I see what you mean. With their ignorance of the truth, it would be more than a little difficult to convince them to play their part in the charade," Giles said, nodding in agreement with the stated flaws. "As for Snyder, that odious troll does seem to have an axe to grind as far as our little group is concerned. Still, give me some time to think on the matter and I am sure that I can devise a solution. In the meantime I suggest you begin getting physically acclimated to your new limbs. Regardless of what route we take from here, I doubt that we will be able to return you to normal anytime soon. So unless you like walking about like a drunken sailor, you'd best work to prevent it."

With his dreams of a quick fix promptly dashed, he reluctantly accepted his current circumstances. Hands at the ready to grab hold of something, he decided the first goal he'd try to reach would be to simply walk around Giles' apartment without falling to the ground or knocking anything over. Once walking was mastered he'd pick things at random to try to pick up with his new metal hand and work towards making it work like his flesh and blood hand.

He wasn't sure how long it'd take before he could actually go out in public and not have people looking at him strangely concerning the way he was moving but he had plenty of motivation.

Keeping himself from being double teamed by Tony Harris and Principal Snyder being at the top of the list.