Author's notes. 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' belongs to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy Productions, 'Stargate' to MGM, and 'Excalibur' to John Boorman and Orion Pictures. No copyright infringement intended. Just messing with the stories for my own amusement.
Alexander ‘Xander’ Harris grimaced in disgust at the sight of his female friends, Buffy and Willow, giggling over a 18th century dress Buffy obviously wanted to dress in order to impress a certain brooding wonder of a vampire before turning his back to them to look for something for himself to wear. His original plan, to buy a toy rifle and use a set of old fatigues he had at home, had been ruined by a kid buying the last toy rifle from the shop’s bargain bin.
No, that wasn’t right, the boy reflected sourly. The original idea was to watch bad horror movies during the night, having some fun for a change. But their fascist troll of a principal, Snyder, just had to ‘volunteer’ them into babysitting a bunch of kids trick or treating, with not so veiled threat of punishments if they didn’t find suitable costumes for the night.
Twenty minutes later, he was ready to give up and simply weather out whatever Snyder would dish out for him later when there was a crunching noise of plastic breaking. Glancing at the direction of the noise, namely his feet, Xander groaned. This was really not his day. Some careless kid had pushed a plastic sword in the floor, and with his luck, he’d stepped on the thing. Now he’d likely have to pay it.
“I might have known this might happen.” The British – accented voice of the shop owner behind his back startled the boy. “I noticed it fall twenty minutes ago, but got distracted. Don’t worry about it, kid; the costume it belonged with is already sold. The boy that bought it said he didn’t need it. Just toss it into the basked over there.”
Picking up the pieces, Xander idly wondered why that was. The sword looked almost like real, with an elaborate handle sporting a fake sapphire on it. In fact, it looked like… Xander grinned widely as inspiration struck him. He tossed the plastic blade in the trash and pocketed the handle before finding the shop owner again.
“I need a brown hooded cloak.” Xander said, having picked a shiny plastic helmet that looked exactly like a steel one from the shelf with medieval costumes. “I’ll also need glue for plastic and fake mustache and beard.”
Five minutes later, Xander left the shop ten bucks poorer, with his friends in tow, grinning. It would take little work, but it would work.
Having collected his jaw from the floor, where it had fallen upon seeing a gorgeous Slayer in her burgundy dress, Xander spoke:
“Wow. Lady Buffy, Duchess of Buffonia, from this day I totally renounce spandex!”
The blonde giggled and gave a courteous bow.
“Why thank you, kind sir.” Abandoning the role, she continued. “But who are you supposed to be?”
Xander chuckled slightly. “That would be Merlin the Magician.”
Buffy frowned. “You don’t look very sorcerey to me. Never mind, Wait till you see Willow, she’s dressed as a...” Buffy trailed off, looking up the stairs at the sheet-clad Willow. “Never mind.” She finished lamely, shaking her head. “Oh Willow. How are you supposed to get Xander’s attention if you hide like that?”
The Lantean Moros, or as he was now known as, Myrddin, looked around in confusion. His last memory prior to this was Ganos Lal placing him onto a stasis pod, with the promise that he would awaken when he was needed. Being awakened amidst chaos as children were running about, screaming, while being chased by a plethora of different monsters their size was definitely not what either of them had had in mind.
After tossing away telekinetically a couple of monsters, Myrddin inspected his surroundings. The street lamps were electric, and the route he stood on was made by some crude chemical compound binding gravel together. Also, there were a number of vehicles parked nearby standing on wheels made of artificial polymeric. The Lantean’s advanced senses allowed him to smell hydrocarbon compounds from within the vehicles. Catching a reflection of the night sky on the vehicle’s front window, Myrddin looked up. The star patterns were familiar. He was on Terra.
The Lantean frowned. The only reason Ganos Lal was ever allowed to even talk to him was the fact that the device he was working on, the Sangraal, could have been as easily used against his fellow Ancients as it could against the intended target, the Ori. The odds of the Others allowing ‘Morgan Le Fay’ to move him around the galaxy were practically non – existent. But f this was not her doing, then who was behind it?
“Xander! Xander, it’d me, Willow” a voice startled him from behind. Myrddin whirled around to find himself meeting the eyes of a scarcely – clad girl in her teens, whose expression practically emitted worry.
“I believe you’ve got me confused with someone else.” Even as he spoke, the Lantean’s mind registered one more confusing fact – he could understand perfectly, yet he could not consciously recognize the language used, even if it had some similarities with the one spoken by the Terra humans he’d entrusted with some of his secrets.
“Xander, quit messing around.” The girl said, now sounding annoyed. “This is no time for jokes.”
“Miss, my name is Myrddin, not Xander.” The Lantean said patiently. “Please tell me exactly where I am, and if possible, what’s going on.“
As he spoke, several of the child – sized creatures charged him, and he used his telekinesis to throw them away. Being on Terra explained at least that part of the picture. He’d heard tales, and later seen for himself the results of mixing human nature with the nature of the creatures known to the Terrans as the Old Ones. he’d had plenty to do, so he hadn’t bothered with the vile things or those who fought them… much.
“Hey!” the girl exclaimed, reaching to grab his hand. “Be careful! These are just children!” both of them jumped in shock when her hand went straight through his.
“Hmm, interesting.” Myrddin commented to himself. Unless there was external interventions, the scientific development of a civilization went more or less balanced in all fields. What he had observed so far suggested nothing anywhere near close the advancement needed for such a realistic hologram.
“Xander, listen to me.” The redhead cried .“I'm on your side, I swear! Something crazy is happening. I was dressed as a ghost for Halloween, a-and now I am a ghost. And you were dressed as Merlin the Magician, and now I, I-I suppose you are.”
The being known back at Atlantis as Moros frowned. The girl’s words made sense, in a bizarre way. He knew that both the spawn of the Old Ones and those who fought them preferred to keep low profile most of the time. it was perfectly viable, however foolish, for a civilization that had rejected superstition not too long ago to be mostly unaware of the war being fought for its very existence. It was certainly the case when the civilization was far less advanced than the examples here suggested. The reality – warping energies present in this world that had long fascinated the Ancients, prompting them to make war on the Old Ones, was certainly capable of accomplishing what the girl suggested. If his own actions had prompted creation of a mythical tale like the story of Atlantis had… Moros’ expression darkened. If the girl was right, there had to be a suppressed consciousness within his body. Taking a deep breath, Myrddin released the mental block that prevented him from utilizing his telepathy at all times, allowing him to give his companions their privacy.
The vampire known as William the Bloody looked around and smiled. On one side of the road was a tiny demon harassing young trick or treaters and in the small park on the other side, a tall demon with a split chin and gold armor was roaring in triumph and raising some kind of energy sword in the air. The smaller creatures around him chimed in with the cheer.
“Neat.” Spike grinned. This was gonna be fun.
“What did you do to her?” the Willow ghost demanded angrily as she and Xander/Myrddin walked through the door of the house Buffy was living in according to the redhead girl, an unconscious Slayer floating in front of them. Myrddin had been able to access a few bits of Xander’s memories, enough to confirm Willow’s theory. Now knowing that his original body (and consciousness) were still in the stasis pod, the Lantean had decided to help clean up the mess, annoyed that anyone would pull a stunt like this on a group of children. Even so, the whimpering so - called noble the Slayer had been reduced to had worn his patience thin.
“I have put her in temporary deep sleep.” Myrddin explained. “You saw yourself she was uncooperative.”
“Wait!” a voice yelled as Myrddin was about to close the door. A young brunette in a catsuit ran in then slammed the door shut behind her.
“Cordelia!” Willow exclaimed. “You’re not a cat! You’re just under a spell, it looks like...”
“Like what?” Cordelia asked. “Do you see me meowing and drinking milk from a saucer? Have you guys noticed that most people out there have turned into their costumes?”
“Indeed.” Myrddin commented wryly, having finished setting the unconscious Buffy onto the couch, “Miss Rosenberg, I’m afraid the legends have exaggerated my capability to deal with problems like this. While I am fully capable of dealing with the lesser vermin filling this place, undoing what has been done is beyond me. I suggest you find the Watcher immediately.”
Cordelia blinked in confusion. “Miss Rosenberg? What’s with the name game?”
Willow grimaced. “Xander and Buffy were affected too. Xander’s Merlin, and Buffy… you don’t want to know.”
“Go.” Myrddin urged. “I’ll keep your friends safe.”
“Willow!” Giles snapped. “Calm down!
Now, let’s see. You say everyone turned into their costumes?
“Right.” Willow confirmed. “The kids became monsters, Buffy was an 18th-century girl, and Xander became Merlin.
“Dear Lord. Really?”
“Yes.” Willow said impatiently. “Anyway, Merlin helped me get Buffy home and sent me to talk to you.”
“A-and, uh, what was your costume?”
“I'm a ghost!”
Giles blinked “Yes. Um... w, uh, uh, uh, the ghost of what, exactly?”
Willow scowled, covering her midriff with her arms. “Well, this is nothing. You should see what Cordelia was wearing. A-a, a unitard with cat things, like ears and stuff.”
“Good heavens.” The Watcher exclaimed. “Uh, sh-sh-she became an actual feline?”
“No! She was the same old Cordelia. Just in a cat costume.”
“So she didn't change.”
“No.” Willow frowned. “Hold on... Partytown. She told us she got her outfit from
“A-a-and everyone who changed, they, they, they, they acquired
their costumes where?”
“We all got ours at a new place. Ethan's.”
“What was the name of the man running the store?” Giles asked sharply.
“Ethan Rayne, I think.” Willow replied. “Why?”
“Get back and help Xander and Buffy.” Giles ordered. “I think I know what is going on.”
Spike was annoyed. He almost had the Slayer in the perfect position to kill her and then Harris had to show up. For his unlife, Spike couldn’t figure out exactly who the dark-haired little wanker thought he was, with that metallic helm and short staff in hand. And he'd just strolled in here.
The vampire sighed. “And what the bloody hell do you think you’re doing, Harris?”
Suddenly, the two minions flanking the boy from behind found themselves hurled into opposite directions by an unseen force. “My name,” said Harris, “Is Myrddin. And if you do not release her, you will die.”
Suddenly, the two minions, which had just managed to get on their feet, caught fire, and moments later, they exploded into dust.
Suddenly Spike’s mouth felt very dry.
The guy’s attention returned to Spike but suddenly the expression of annoyance on Harris’ face was replaced by confusion, and moments later by fear. He let out a scared “Eep” and jumped backwards. .
“Gotcha,” grinned Spike, but before he could attack, a powerful blow to the side almost sent him flying. Suddenly, the Slayer was standing in front of him, her wig gone.
“Hi honey.” Buffy smiled sweetly. “I’m home.”