God(s) Of War
By: Richard R.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to their respective owners, the only things I own are the plots.
Summary: One costume provided by a certain chaos mage pisses off the wrong god - someone who knows what it's like to be manipulated, and makes sure to rectify that situation.
(Multiple X-over) Rating "M" for mature for safety reasons.
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Prologue:
Xander stared at Glory as they circled each other, waiting for some unseen signal. Feeling a calm he did not feel, he unsheathed both of the blades of chaos at his back – the semi-sentient blades, reformed and upgraded personally by Artemis and Hepheastus, were joined by the mystic chains that lead from it and wrapped around the arm bracers adorning his wrists.
"This is it." He thought to himself. The entire weapon seemed to glow with golden light, eagerly waiting for it's current master to unleash it upon those who dare defy them.
Glory rushed forward, almost a blur towards the foolish mortal who had been a thorn in her side ever since she started hunting for the key. Her smile was feral as she drew near, arms outstretched to rip him limb from limb.
Xander dodged backwards and unleashed the blades, hurtling them with uncanny grace in retaliation. The blades sang as it gouged deep furrows along her body. And wherever it struck the deranged hell-goddess, she would cry out in alarm.
Glory was starting to panic for the first time, never had a human been able to make her bleed such as this. Never had she been in such pain. "What are you?" She cried, staggering against the onslaught of someone she thought of as a mere mortal.
"Lady," Xander replied, his tone cold as arctic ice. "I'm the one you wrongly pissed off by going after my friends. I am no one of great importance, save the one who shall give you everlasting pain. And that's before I destroy you."
"No one can kill me," Glory ground out through the pain. She rallied for another attacked and lashed out, knocking Xander a few feet back. "I am a god!"
"Gods can be killed." Xander said, recovering from the blow that would have instantly killed a normal man, let alone a slayer. "I should know. It's not the first time these blades have crossed paths with a deranged god, or the fools that call themselves as such. And I swore to put you down like the mad dog you are for hurting my friends."
Xander felt the energies building within the blades and at the precise moment, he flung them as he leapt skywards, dodging another blow from Glorificus. At the apex of his jump, he angled the blades into an arc as they sliced off both of Glory's arms. The moment he touched the ground, he launched one blade to spear Glory in the gut and dragged her to him.
The hell-goddess at that instant knew fear. Unable to wrench free of the blade now impaling her midsection due to no longer having arms, she watched, helpless as the young man reeled her in like a sportsman in a fishing competition. A very small part of her that was Ben's consciousness begged for mercy from the savage beast before her.
Xander would have none of it. Gathering his strength once she was near enough, he gripped the other blade in his right hand and decapitated her with one blow, a snarl of defiance echoing on his lips.
All the energy keeping Glory's corporeal form together blew outwards like an immortal's quickening, throwing Xander backwards. Once released, the energies sought out their original hosts – the ones still among the living, of course. - While the rest of the energy was absorbed by Xander's bracers and blades, restoring the man to full vitality.
Dazed, and a little blinded from the light show, the young man got to his feet as he heard the sounds of running feet. He turned – blades at the ready, towards the sounds behind him.
Gasps of shock and surprise filled the air between his friends as they gazed at the former Scooby. Beyond him lay the decapitated body of the former hell-goddess.
"Xander?" Willow asked, unsure of the apparition in front of her, while trying to hold upright her lover who had just recently regained her sanity.
The young man paid her no heed, instead opting to turn and walk away.
"Xander!" Buffy called out, voice plaintive.
That made Xander almost turn around. Almost.
"What do you need of me, Slayer?" He answered, the coldness never leaving his voice. "From our last discussion, you wanted nothing more to do with me. And Willow never even contested that."
Both of the girls winced at that. They were about to speak except Giles beat them to it.
"Glorificus," The Watcher asked, having just arrived in time to hear that the young man speak. "Is she...?"
"She's dead Giles."
"I see." Giles looked at the body, and indeed found her head a few feet away. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." This time, the youth turned, a smirk gracing his features. "Thanks yourself for the head's up." Then he turned away and bolted, leaping through the wreckage of the south wall with the grace of hyena within him.
Giles watched the young man go, halting Buffy in mid-stride as she made to go after him.
"Leave him be, Buffy." Her watcher said, "He'll come back when it's time."
"He can't just leave us again!" The slayer said, anger rising, looking at Willow as she simply cried and held on to Tara.
"And who," His Ripper persona slightly showing through as he glared at his young charge. "Pushed him out of the fighting in the first place? Granted I may have been part of it due to my lack of foresight before, but at least I owed it up to him to explain my stand before he left the first time."
"I already said I was sorry!" Buffy said.
"Sorry may have been enough if you didn't add insult to injury, Buffy." Giles responded, "You'll have to re-earn his friendship and his trust the hard way."
Glancing back at the direction the young man left, his thoughts turned back to that fateful day that started it all.
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All Hallows Eve: The day of reckoning, years ago.
As Ethan Rayne finished the spell, he felt a tremor pass through him. A feeling of dread filled him even as the spell started to take effect. He checked his surroundings and then shrugged, disregarding the notion of impending doom as this night was after all, in the hands of chaos.
The being that was currently inhabiting Xander's body was glaring around him in mute rage. Someone will be in a lot of pain for this, he growled. No one dares trifle with me and gets away with it without gross consequences. Although this situation ranks of Janus's doing, he'd deal with the caster first before he'd move on towards that idiot god himself. He vaguely heard someone calling out to him. He looked towards where the voice was coming from and was startled to see a scantily dressed redheaded spirit running to him.
"Xander!" Willow gasped, nearly out of breath in spite of her spectral form. "Something hellmouthy is going on. I fell down on someone's doorstep and when I woke up and I'm a ghost. I don't know what's going on but it's really, really, really, freaking me out."
"Xander" arched an eyebrow at the spirit's non-stop verbal spewing, chuckling at how this mere slip of a spectral girl spoke to him.
"This is NOT funny!" Willow stamped her foot in annoyance. "Stop laughing already!"
"I apologize, spirit." The being inhabiting Xander's body said in ancient Greek, "But I am not this Xander you speak of. Perhaps we bear a passing resemblance?"
"Oh no! Not you too!" She exclaimed, trying to reply in passable – but albeit, slightly garbled Greek. "If you're not Xander, then who are you?"
"My name?" The man replied, thinking about it for a short time. He'd rather not be known by his better-known moniker here lest others might be watching. Besides, the young spirit thought him to be simply a costume turned reality, a man out of time. The mind of the boy whose body he now possesses was in suffering as it relived most of the being's life. The nightmares he strove hard to forget now laid bare before the soul of the child whose body he now shares. Which was another good reason why he should disembowel the chaos mage and his foolish god for causing needless suffering. In every war, there must be a cause. This however, was senseless madness. In a split-second decision, he prepared his answer. "My name is Kratos. And I am but a humble Spartan. So how come I to this place?"
Willow just goggled. "Oh boy…"
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Chapter 1:
Kratos looked around, momentarily ignoring a shocked ghost, finding more than the usual mill of monsters roaming the area. Keeping in character in pretending to be not f this time period, he asked the young ghost a question. "Why are most of Echidna's children out and about? It looks as if she's been busy."
"Who?" Willow asked, trying to shake herself from her stupor at the surreal idea of talking to a man who lived before the time of Christ.
"Echidna," The ashen clad warrior explained. "Is the queen mother of all monsters. And I also espy different species of Bacchae. "
"What?"
"The ones with deformed foreheads, fangs, and the weaker of the species have a strong aversion to sunlight, and holy relics." Kratos said, pointing to some said creatures farther down the road trying to stay out of sight.
"Oh," Realization dawned on the redhead. "Vampires. We call them vampires nowadays."
"How amusing." Kratos said, a hint of sarcasm rounding his voice. He glanced around, suddenly noticing a muted energy spike that was steadfast around the entire town. Curious, he turned to Willow. "I know you haven't answered this yet, but you mentioned something about a hellmouth. Do you speak the truth as to where we are? "
At Willow's affirmative, the warrior threw a fit of curses in Greek and Latin that made Willow shudder when she recognized some of what he said. That can't be physically possible, right? Unconsciously, she edged away from the dangerous looking Spartan.
Kratos was now seething, cursing in his native Greek, Latin, and a host of other long dead languages. Of all the irresponsible things for Janus to do, a high chaos spell over a hellmouth was the least of smartest things to do. Most spells here were amplified in either direction that a 100 certainty is not guaranteed. Any number of side effects would come out. His fists clenched and unclenched in outrage at the audacity of it all.
Someone was definitely going to die horribly at his hands before this night was over.
"If this is a hellmouth, then that would mean you people have a Slayer stationed here, correct?" He asked, unsheathing the chaos blades from his back.
"Yes," She replied, looking at the wicked blades with worry. "Why?"
"Because," Kratos said, moving with predatory grace towards a monster terrorizing some unchanged children. "She has her work cut out for her this night."
"Wait?" Willow cried, aghast as he filleted what looked like a zombie. "What are you doing? Those are probably just kids whose costumes turned them into monsters! We've got to find Buffy!"
"Who?" Kratos asked, shrugging off the blood from his blades. The child was right; he could "feel" some of the children inside a few of these creatures. Bah, he told himself, the sooner they find the Slayer, the sooner they can start searching for the caster, the better. "If this Buffy is the Slayer, then lead me to her. This night's madness must cease."
"Ok," Agreed the budding witch. "She had on a dark wig and a wearing an 18th century noblewoman's costume." Then she thought Kratos wouldn't even have a clue as to what she was talking about, she amended. "Ah, never mind, just follow me and I'll let you know when we see her."
"Very well, spirit." The ancient warrior said, "Lead the way."
They waded through the chaos laden streets, Willow yelling every so often from the close calls she made trying to keep Kratos from disemboweling every other demon he ran into in dozens of creatively disgusting ways. All the while, the ashen Spartan was smirking at getting a rise out of the transformed teenaged ghost. By the time they were able to find Buffy, Willow was almost a frazzled wreck.
If I ever get out of this alive, the future young witch swore. I'm gonna yell at Xander so loud for choosing such a rude, bloodthirsty costume, his ears will ring for weeks. In spite of her frazzled nerves, she was already on her way to being pissed enough that were she completely corporeal, she would have slapped Kratos.
They found the Slayer huddled at a nearby building, in tears, and screaming "Demon!" every time a car went by. The Spartan chuckled out loud as Willow tried to convince Buffy it was safe to be with them while the slayer called her a dozen different names from harlot, to whore – all in the french language. He even understood her calling him a dumb ox of a brute, a barbarian, and his personal favorite: "I'd sooner die than bed you, you uncouth lout!" And that was when her eyes were roaming his tattooed body.
Finally having had enough, the ancient warrior invaded her personal space and snarled out a whisper in french right into her face. "You whine too much." And pressed a nerve cluster at the back of her neck.
"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO BUFFY!" Willow shrieked as the Slayer slumped down, unconscious.
Kratos sighed. "Would you rather I hit her?"
Willow was silent after that.
It took five full minutes for her to start another tirade on him, only to shut up again once her gave that look once more.
By the gods, Kratos thought. Only Hercules had this much trouble with women, and he's in Los Angeles shooting a TV series for Zeus's sake!
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It took a while, but Willow calmed down enough to direct them to Buffy's house. The currently transformed young woman was partly thankful that the Spartan was carrying Buffy. His normal penchant to hack and slash with those weird blades of his every chance he got was grating on her resolve to either have a nervous breakdown – or settle for months of therapy after committing first degree murder on Xander when all this was over. For the hundredth time that night, Willow wondered whatever possessed Xander to choose that costume. His love for Greek mythology aside, she knew almost next to nothing about the man who currently is in possession of Xander's body. She knew all about Spartans as a whole of course, but vaguely about Kratos. She knew the young man wanted to go as a soldier, but she thought something like GI Joe or something else from THIS century, she didn't expect him to go as a soldier from ancient Greece of all things.
It was bad enough he looked yummy with those new muscles he'd slowly acquired from all those times helping out the slayer, but with someone else in the driver's seat, the yuck factor the attitude Kratos had was curbing her desire down 100. And did she mention Xander, as Kratos looked way scary when he looked pissed while brandishing those swords?
Kratos for his part was glad the verbal attacks from the redheaded spirit had tapered down to a semi-occasional barb. He really didn't want to throw the slayer at her considering the fact it would do nothing since she was intangible and the only one getting bruised would be an already unconscious slayer. The Spartan frowned; the eighteenth century vapid idiot the slayer had become due to the spell even nullified her slayer attributes. In effect, she was as useless and ineffectual as the ghostly female leading them to her home. Someone really was going to die at his hands because of this.
They were able to reach the Slayer's house with no discernable trouble. After probing the silly costume the slayer wore, much to Willow's protest – standard verbal barrage included – Kratos was able to find the key to the front door. Once inside, he instantly laid Buffy down on the couch. Looking around, he saw a hallway mirror and walked up to it.
The face staring right back at him in the mirror confirmed what the young ghost had said. While it did bear a striking resemblance to him, he noticed a few differences that told him he really wasn't in own body. The face staring back at him was twenty years younger. The scar across his right eye was gone. He also lost a lot of weight, but the muscle tone was there, slowly developing.
And even through the same ashes that clung to this boy's body, he can also see faint scars that definitely did not come from battle. He growled upon realization that this child was abused. Kratos may have been a monster, but he only killed within reason now. It was then that he made the decision to make this boy his very own avatar. The gods may not interfere too much nowadays with the lives of mortals; they weren't once mortal to begin with.
Yes, he thought. This man-child will do nicely. It was time for a champion who can be unbound by the machinations of fate and destiny to arise.
Turning back from his scrutiny of the body he currently possessed; he heard a scream from outside. Willow stuck her head through the door and saw Cordelia in a cat suit being chased by a man-dog thing. Thinking fast, Willow retreated back inside and asked Kratos to help her, minus massacring the one chasing her.
The ancient Spartan laughed out loud, sheathing his already drawn blades, he raced out the door and attacked the thing chasing down Cordelia Chase.
Using an ancient combat art he first learned in the pits and around the Egyptian campaigns, he effectively rendered the thing unconscious (and broken in some places, as he knew he cracked more than a couple of ribs).
Cordelia was wide-eyed and slack jawed as the person she knew to be loser-boy Harris all but killed the thing chasing her.
Kratos wasted no time for a useless dialogue, in Greek he said, "Get in the house." Was the terse command that brooked no argument from the cat-suited clad brunette as he gestured towards the slayer's abode.
Once within the confines of the slayer's home once more, Willow went straight to Cordelia, rather than chew the Spartan out for almost crippling the boy outside for life. "I know this is strange," She began. "But you're not a cat, you're Cordelia Chase, human."
Cordy just stared at her. "What is your damage? And since when the hell did Harris turn into a tattooed Tarzan?"
Kratos eyed her blankly and asked, "What?" while Willow was surprised as she asked aloud, "You mean you haven't changed into your costume?"
"No, and Never mind." The exasperated socialite said, eyeing her costume in front of the mirror, moaning. "Aw damn, this costume's trashed, now I'll never get my deposit back. So will anybody tell me what the hell is going on?"
"A spell of chaos has seemed to turn select people into their costumes." Kratos said, face in deadpan amusement as Willow translated what Cordelia was asking to Kratos. He laughed inwardly as he did already understood what the young socialite said, but for appearance sake, nodded to Willow at the translation and translated back to Cordy.
"Like that helps, dweeb!" Cordelia snarked, "Like you would know."
Willow automatically translated that and winced after the fact, regretting it.
"At the moment," Kratos began, entering her personal space like the predator he was, making her shiver in fear. "I am not Xander, nor this other title you call me. I am Kratos, captain of the Spartan army under the god of war!"
The socialite backed away in fear as she saw his anger mount with each step towards her, she didn't understand a word, but the meaning was clear: Don't piss him off. Willow, who understood most of it, paled.
"I demand respect and everlasting loyalty to those before me. So you will treat me as such, you wench, or I will be mightily…" he stepped up to her and breathed the last word into her ear, sending another thrill of fear down her already frightened countenance, damn near wetting herself. "Displeased."
As the last word left his lips, his right arm whirled outwards. The Blade of chaos chained to that arm flew out and went through the redheaded ghost and impaled the wall two inches from the face of the figure hiding in the shadows by the kitchen door.
Angel yelped and backed away in shock, while Willow shrieked and looked about ready to faint at the sight of the mystic chains passing through her non-corporeal body.
"What do you want, you low level Bacchae?" He asked the souled vampire, eyes never leaving a pale and shaking Cordelia Chase.
"I… uh…" Angel stuttered, automatically speaking out of surprise towards the thing that didn't smell like Xander, demanding an answer from him in Greek. The mystical blade imbedded in the wall in front of him unsettling the demon within him. "I came to see and maybe help find out what's going since its kinda going crazy out there."
"A cursed Bacchae helping out a Slayer?" The Spartan asked in amusement, recalling the blade he'd thrown the vampire's way back to him, sheathing it behind his back despite of his bare back and torso. "A rare sight to see. My name is Kratos, and my blades tell me much of your status, but should you let loose the demon in my presence and you shall taste the steel of my blades more than the blood your kind so craves."
Angel nodded, walking slowly towards the unconscious slayer; not making any sudden moves that might be interpreted as hostile. "What happened to her?"
"Buffy turned into her costume, an eighteenth century noblewoman, and annoyed Kratos over here." Willow said by way of explanation, pointing at the current bane of her ire.
Angel had no response to that; he knew what they were like. That fact that his demonic side found them easy marks and ate them for breakfast, lunch and dinner, so he just kept his mouth shut on that regard.
"So what do we do now?" He asked instead.
"First, we must find the root of all this madness." The ancient Spartan said to Willow as he moved to bar the door with among the heaviest furniture he could find.
"Giles would know," Willow said in response to that statement. "He's Buffy's Watcher, if anyone would know, he would."
And keeping in character that he supposedly didn't know english, he also asked Willow to speak to speak to the vampire for him as he jerked his head Angel's way.
"What did he say?" Angel asked, wary of the Spartan as he hauled whatever was sturdy towards the front door.
"He said he wanted you and Cordelia to try barricading any possible entrance to this place while I go get Giles."
"Why you?" Cordelia huffed, pointing at Kratos. "He's the he-man with the swords."
"Uh.." The redhead said in a "duh" voice. "Because I'm currently a ghost and nothing can hurt me?"
"Oh."
"JUST GO ALREADY!" Kratos roared, "Gods, you women dawdle too much!"
Willow "Eeped" and got out.
Angel and Cordelia moved about the house, checking every possible entrance and making sure they were locked. As soon as Angel entered the kitchen, the door leading to the backyard blew inwards as a throng of mini-demons in the forms of transformed children rushed in to cause mayhem.
"We need a stronger, defensible location." Kratos muttered, unsheathing the mystic blades. Children or no, if they should seek to grievously harm him, he would retaliate ten-fold. As it stood now, he was simply deflecting attacks with the flat of his blades, while delivering incapacitating blows rather than fatal ones.
At that point, the unconscious slayer woke up. Upon seeing so many "demons" around her, she did the only thing a "Lady" of her station could do other than fainting: she screamed and ran out of the door leading to the kitchen as if the hounds of hell were right at her feet. Which was almost the literal truth as close as it could get.
After most of the children were subdued, they looked around to take stock of the situation. Angel was the first to notice that the slayer was missing in the ensuing melee, so without further prompting, they all rushed out to find her. They split up with Cordelia staying with Angel as being with "Kratos" for any length of time scared the shit out of her. Kratos didn't mind, he always did work best alone nowadays rather than leading his old army to war.
Once away from his current irritants, he doubled his pace and tracked the slayer's aura. Even though the former Ares was a war-mongering bastard in his later years, he did have a little hand in the creation of the slayer lines. Besides where else would a slayer get her ability for instinctual battle savvy? Certainly not from those idiot PTB.
In his search, he passed assorted "monsters" and real monsters. Those who he could tell were simply transformed children; he knocked out, those that were real; he tore apart whenever he could. He was, however, surprised to find complete satisfaction as he almost mauled a pirate to death for annoying the hell out of him.
Totally immersed in his controlled slaughter, he almost forgot his original intent of tracking down the slayer until he passed a store reeking of magical energy - a familiar sort of chaotic, magical energy.
"This is no doubt the center of all this insanity." Kratos mused. "The slayer will have to fend for herself until I find the means to stop all this." And he kicked the door in, blades drawn and ready.
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Ethan was expecting his old friend "Ripper" to come through the door, so it was a shock to him since he wasn't expecting the boy he'd sold the unique costume to. Not many of them were based on real historical figures, especially one that was just as old as the legends involving the four horsemen of the apocalypse. Plus the fact that the history of "The Ghost of Sparta" was so obscure that the potential chaos it would create would balance things out nicely. Unfortunately, he didn't realized just how smart the Spartan would be to figure this out. And was that blood on those blades?
The chaos mage shivered as cold mercurial eyes glared at him from the transformed teen.
"YOU!" Kratos snarled in Greek. "Cease this insanity at once!"
"Hello yourself, Spartan." Ethan replied back in the same language, swallowing the lump on his throat as the Greek warrior stalked towards him. "But I cannot. The god Janus's will must be done."
"I'll deal with that god later myself." Kratos said in english, starling the man before him, lashing out with a chained blade.
The action itself was so sudden, the mage had no time to move before the blade impaled him to the wall with the force of a wrecking ball. It also unfortunately killed the man instantly before he could say anything else.
"Oops." Kratos said in chagrin, he'd have thought a disciple of Janus would have a hardier endurance than that. He sighed, then started checking for anything that might resemble as the focus for the spell.
It took a few moments for Kratos to recognize the bust of Janus as the focus, and another to smash it into pieces just as a certain Watcher was entering the shop.
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The shockwave of energy as mystic blade met mystic powered bust threw Giles to the floor and out the door. Once the Watcher got back on his feet, he quickly re-entered the shop, preparing for a fight. What he found within was something he'd never want to see again.
Down a few feet from the counter by the far wall, was the mutilated body of the late Ethan Rayne. A few more feet behind him near the back of the store, but in full view, was the young man he knew as Xander wearing the remnant of a Spartan costume. The aforementioned young man was busily throwing up whatever food he had eaten previously as the horrors of what he had done earlier was still vividly playing in his mind.
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Elsewhere:
"Janus," A dark voice said to a cowering god. "I would like to have some words with you regarding this latest prank of yours."
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TBC
