~~~~~~~~~~ Prologue ~~~~~~~~~~

In every generation there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against

the vampires, the demons and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer.

Xander examined the price tag of the costume and wince, allowing it to fall back to the rack. How someone could justify charging $25.99 for a pirate's eyepatch? It was criminal. He continued to browse through the shelves, stopping to check prices on a couple of promising looking costumes, but nothing fell within his price range. Two dollars wasn't a lot of money, and unfortunately the toy gun he had eying got sold to some little snot-nosed kid before he could grab it. As much as he wanted to go as a soldier, even he didn't have the heart to take a plastic toy away from a five year old unless that five-year old happened to be a vampire. So here he was, checking prices and looking for something, anything, that could put together on his shoe string budget, Army fatigues be damned.

He eventually found a small plastic japanese style sword for a buck and a half. He had no idea what he'd wear with it, though, as he had nothing even closely resembling a Japanese robe. To add insult to injury, there was a couple of lick and stick tattoos at the register for a quarter each. Butterflies and pumpkins didn't really appeal to his sensibilities, so he grabbed a matching pair of yellow and gold chinese dragons to go with the sword to keep with the oriental theme. That left his with a seriously weak costume, so some creativity would be necessary at home.

Willow had purchased her costume while he was browsing, so he made his way over to where she was chatting with Buffy.

"Hey Xander, what did you get?" Willow asked as he approached.

He pulled out the sword and held it up.

"That's not a costume." Buffy declared.

"I was going to go with a soldier outfit since I had some old fatigues at home, but..." he shrugged. "For two dollars, I'll be able to figure something out."

Buffy paused. "Hey, look Xander - I'm really sorry about this morning."

"Do you mind, Buffy? I'm trying to repress."

She pouted and put her head on his shoulder. "Okay then, I promise. From now on I'll let you get pummeled."

Xander rolled his eyes at that, but still said thank you. He was in the process of telling her that he thought he could have taken Larry when Buffy brushed by him, eyes locked on the pink 18th century gown.

"It's beautiful." she whispered.

"Too bulky," said Xander. "I prefer my women in spandex." However, seeing the costume made some wheels turn in his head, as he started thinking about possible wardrobe choices that could be made from some old clothes from his closet, some frilly shirts left over in the attic from his parents glory days in the 70's, and a pair of tight britches. It just might work, particularly if he could find something that would accentuate his less than stellar physique.

Ethan, the costume store owner, came out from behind the curtain and began to discuss the gown with the Slayer, insisting that she take it. The two haggled a bit over the price, but Ethan really did mean it when he said it was an offer she couldn't refuse. The cost of the rental for the dress was song, and before long the trio was at the register and out the door, costumes in hand.

When Buffy opened the door later that night to admit Xander, she had to admit she was surprised by his costume. He was wearing cowboy boots with tight brown pants tucked in the tops, a wide black leather belt, and a white button down shirt with frills and ruffles running up the front of the shirt until the collar. The sleeves had bits of lacy frills around the edges.

"Lord Harris has arrived to escort..." He blinked as he saw Buffy.

They stared at each other gobsmacked. Xander recovered first, as he reached forward and took her hand, bowing low over the back of it as he bent one knee and touched the heel of his other foot to the ground, doing his best impression of a royal. "My Lady of Buffdom, Duchess of Buffonia, I am in awe! I completely renounce spandex!"

She giggled a bit as she curtsied. "Thank you, kind sir." She noticed a flash of gold as Xander moved to pull his hand away, but her reflexes were better than his. She grabbed his hand and pulled the sleeve back a bit, seeing the golden and red dragon tattoo on the back of his hand and forarm.

"The back of the hand? Really?" She asked.

Xander shrugged. "I couldn't think of where else to put them, and this seemed right."

"So what are you?" Buffy made hand motions for him to turn around. The britches were quiet snug, and the shirt had almost as many ruffles as her gown. He looked ridiculous and horribly old fashioned, but at the same time the snug britches rather flattered. He had a small plastic sword sticking out of off his belt, and a rather large rhinestone belt buckle to complete the ensemble.

"I figured I'd go as your male counterpart. You know, Duke and Duchess of Sunnydale."

She fingered some of the ruffles on his shirt. "The shirt?"

"My dad's."

Willow came down the stairs at that moment, wearing the ghost uniform, "Boo" spelled out across the front in bold letters. Buffy was disappointed in her friend for not showing off her outfit, but school and sugar-hyped little monsters (read, children) were waiting for them at school. Snyder was his usual charming self, and once the kids had been given to their volunteer chaperones, everyone headed off to do rounds and collect as much booty as possible. Xander was quick to instruct his charges on how best to weasel the maximum amount of candy per house, admonishing them that while the "hey, you missed me," route was open, it was risky. Tears and pouting faces were by far the best options.

The trick-or-treating was proceeding fine until just a few minutes before six. Buffy paused as a strong wind began to blow, stirring up leaves. Something about it blew ill, tickling the sixth sense all Slayers had in the presence of evil as the hairs on her back of her neck stood upright.

As the wind died down, the rustle of leaves was replaced by the sound of screams.

Rand al'Thor rolled over from where he woke in the grass and pushed himself to his knees, looking around wildly as he tried to gain sense of his bearings. He had no idea where he was or how he got here. This didn't seem to be the a dream that was not a dream, as the colors were too vivid, the objects too solid. The grass beneath him smelled familiar and yet unlike anything he seen before, and oddly shaped houses lined a road that was illuminated not with torches but with what seemed to be ter'angreal glowing brightly at regularly spaced intervals. The houses were also all glowing brightly, though the street they sat on was blacker than the night itself, absorbing the light that hit its surface. A self-propelled cart with brightly shining lanterns embedded in the front rolled down the road, the quiet roar of its passage belying the speed of is movement. It resembled the visions he had seen from the Age of Legends when he had stepped through the rings at Rhuidean, earning the dragon tattoos that adorned the back of his hands and arms.

This wasn't the Age of Legends, though. Beyond the strange light sources, he could not feel the One Power being used. It was there, as always, a constant presence in the back of his head just waiting to be used. The taint of evil also hung heavy in the air, making him frown. It had the feeling of... A lady screamed, only to be cut with a suddenness that spoke of a violent and painful end. Rand sprung to his feet and looked around only to see creatures running from house to house, breaking into the domiciles and perpetuating violence on the dwellers within.

They were not Trollocs, but they oozed corruption that he could feel in his bones. A sword of flames leaped into his hands instantly as Rand reached out and grabbed the Saidin, the male half of the One Power, filling himself near to bursting with the power. The Power roared, a bonfire that would consume him instantly if he were careless for a moment. It was like trying to hold onto a river of frozen fire and burning ice, though at the same time, he felt more alive that ever as his senses improved. It felt as if the cotton that had been stuffed into his ears had been removed and lenses that obscured his vision taken away as sounds and colors became sharper and more vivid. The smells of the neighborhood, only faintly noticed before, assaulted his nose.

At the same time he felt the taint of Saidin settle into his bones. The taint was the Dark One's counterstroke against Lews Therin and his companions at the end of the War of Power. Like those before him, the taint that would eventually drive a male channeler mad, or cause his body to rot around him, or both. To channel the male half of the One Power was to be tainted, as you could not access the Power without first touching the Dark One's taint. It was like oil poured on the surface of an ocean of clean water contaminating everything that attempted to reach to the purity below.

The thought made him pause. He could remember cleansing Saidin with Nyneave at Shar Logoth. They had used the Chodan Khal and cleansed both Saidin and the cursed city at the same time. He turned, and noticed something else. The wound given to him over Falme by Ismael was gone. There was no pain. Nor could he feel his bonds with Elayne, Avienda, and Min. There was only a vast feeling of corruption that permeated the entire area, strong enough to make him feel physically ill.

Something was horribly wrong.

He turned, noting the numbers of creatures running around. Rand prepared a rather nasty weave of earth and fire, but before he could release it he was startled by a scandalously dressed woman who jumped in front of him and started shouting at him. He was sufficiently startled that he released his weave, causing a section of the road behind the woman to erupt in a burst of flame, sending the creatures in the area screeching and running for cover. Annoyed that she caused him to miss, Rand moved to push the woman aside, but stumbled when his arm passed through her.

He stared at her perplexed. She stared at his sword and the still smoking street, equally perplexed.

"Xander?"

Rand ignored her. He would deal with the dead and the spirits of the deceased later. For now he had to act. There were too many strange things going on, but regardless of if this was a plot by one of the remaining Forsaken or the start of Tar'mon Gaiden itself, he would not give up without a fight. He began preparing another weave, catching sight of a cluster of creatures running to the nearest house. She must have realized he was doing something, because again she jumped in front of him and shouted at him. "Xander, no! You can't hurt them. They are children!"

"I don't know any Xander. My name is Rand al'Thor. What do you mean, they are children?"

The spirit began speaking at a blistering pace, explaining about the children became the costumes they had donned for the festival night. So it was a bubble of evil. While each one was different, at least he knew generally how to deal with it. Rand wove weaves of air, immobilizing the creatures in the immediate vicinity and tying off the weaves as he stalked down the street. He had to first deal with this current bubble, then find out where he was. The spirit followed, complaining the whole time that he had to find someone named Buffy.

He ignored her, concentrating instead on quelling the effects of the bubble. He stalked down the street, his sword of fire glowing in his fist as he wrapped demon after demon in thick weaves with complex knots in an attempt to make them difficult to unravel. The process of doing so made Rand realized that while he was very good at destroying creatures of the Dark One, he had relatively few non-lethal weaves that he could use to immobilize or capture an enemy, and he had nothing that could be used to effect a large area. Eventually the babbling spirit stopped trying to get his attention and ran off towards one of the houses in an attempt to help some lady to her feet. Based on her dress, she looked to be some noble woman.