A/N: First off, thank you all for the reviews, I'm glad to know you're enjoying the story.

Second, as ashamed as I am to admit this, I have yet to read all of the manga and therefore this story is based solely on the anime, which I have seen, the dubbed version anyway. College funds and schedule conflicts make it difficult to get a hold of, much less read the manga, but there are some manga-only bits of trivia that I hope to use at some point via the FMA Wikia site.

This update is a bit early but I was too giddy about posting it so I couldn't help myself. Enjoy!

"What the hell Sam? Seriously!" Dean barked at his younger brother, his current seething rage making him oblivious to the stares he received, particularly from the female portion of the audience. One of the nurses continued staring after her initial startle, eyeing Dean with blatant fascination, clipboard pressed tightly against her cleavage as though clinging to it like some sort of lifeline.

"You know I can let it slide if you get separated from us by some unforeseen force or if you get kidnapped or whatever the hell," Dean lowered his volume, his blatant concern for Sam's well-being evident in the slight break in his voice. "But to deliberately go off with those yahoos and not tell me? That's worse than dingo-ate-my-baby-crazy Sam, and that's pretty damn crazy for us."

Sam merely shrugged, communicating with his eyes how sorry he was, having said it multiple times already from the moment he'd caught up to Dean and Bobby. He didn't know what else to say; and really there was else nothing to say. Dean was right, it had been crazy for him to just run off with two strangers that could just as easily have been his enemy as the man who actually had tried to kill him, but it didn't matter now. What's done is done.

It was dawn, their current location was the waiting area of Central Hospital, and neither of the trio had had a moment's sleep, not even for a few seconds. Sam's mind was still reeling after everything that had gone down last night, not to mention all the things he'd seen that just didn't make any sense, particularly the blue light and how it seemed to create objects or reactions with little effort. Almost like magic.

Isaac the Freezer, he's a State Alchemist

Alchemist. That was the term Ed had used to address Isaac, that he was an alchemist. Though not just any kind of an Alchemist, but one of the State, which to Sam's knowledge, considering the uniform he'd adorned, basically rendered Isaac to have been one of the elite of the military. And he'd evidently turned his back on the very country he served, had even attempted to bring it down to its knees; or at least Central Command.

The word "alchemy", if Sam's memory served him correctly, was a synonym for "sorcery", "witchcraft", "black arts" and so on. It literally referred to the process of taking a baser mineral and turning it into gold, a development that had required chemistry as well as philosophical methods of practice and analysis. Alchemy had been a hit in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance Era, endless pages in books described its uses for making something grand out of something so trivial. It was fascinating. It was complex. It was significantly helpful.

It was also a myth.

Alchemy in modern science reminisces the "classic" form of chemistry, and put quite simply, chemistry stemmed from Alchemy and evolved into the concepts in which was highly recognized today. At least that was Sam's initial response upon realizing that what was supposedly a myth was somehow real and used exceptionally here in Amestris. Sam had to wonder if by some small chance he could snag a book or two, learn more about this Alchemy. Were they to master it, it would help to lessen certain mundane burdens that often plagued them along their trips on the road; especially with gun-care.

He did feel guilty for leaving Dean and Bobby like that, but not completely. A part of him was the tiniest bit thankful that he'd made the choice to follow Ed and Al, he wasn't sure why this Alchemy thing had such a pull on him. That strange familiarity he'd experienced earlier when he noticed Ed's coat had only grown a couple of degrees as he'd continued along with the ride, quite literally.

But that was something he just couldn't explain to his brother, he wasn't sure Dean would understand. Hell he didn't even understand it himself.

"Look Dean," Sam switched back to the conversation at hand before his ponderings could wonder any further. "I know I screwed up okay? But you didn't see what happened. It was….."

Dean was silent for a moment, giving him a chance to explain, then he prompted, "Was what?"

Sam shook his head, letting out a gush of air hoping to relieve some of the tension he felt. It didn't work. "It was like magic Dean. You should've seen what those boys did. Not to mention the fact that the Alphonse-kid isn't normal."

"Normal is overrated in our vernacular Sam," typical Dean to slip in a snark when his brother was trying to be serious. "And magic I get but what do you mean about this…Alphonse right?"

"Yeah," Sam confirmed with a nod, "I'm not sure what he is exactly but it's definitely not human. But I don't think "robot" fits him like it should."

Dean arched an eyebrow at that, "Meaning?"

"Isaac knocked his head off," Sam demonstrated by making a slashing motion across his neck with his hand. "Just took it clean off….and then the kid just puts it back on like nothing happened."

"And you don't think that screams 'robot'?" Dean was on the verge of an actual smirk at this point.

"I'm saying I'm not sure what to think," Sam retorted, leaning back against the wall, head tilted back, mind sifting through all the things he remembered from last night.

Dean muttered something about grabbing coffee and stalked off, leaving Sam to his turmoil of thoughts. Ever since his regrouping with the others, the haze and craze of the previous events had lessened ounce by excruciating ounce, leaving more room for his mind to wander about, touching on certain thoughts and feelings he just wasn't ready for. He thought he was stronger than this, stronger than the darkness of his life, always fighting against it so it wouldn't overtake him, dropping him into some dark abyss of his shady thoughts and memories. He thought he'd learned to control it by now, to have mastered it.

Maybe he had finally cracked beyond the initial breakage of his soul. All of this probably too much for him to handle at the moment, and now his brain was suffering for it, Sam could feel the first pangs of a headache forming. He closed his eyes against it in an attempt to dull out the pain. With no aspirin at hand, and more than likely to receive a negative answer upon requesting for some from one of the nurses, he was left to lick his wounds and bite back on the turmoil raging just below the surface of his conscience.

"Yes did you hear? The Fuhrer himself brought the man down. Missis Bradley is one lucky woman." He heard one girly voice gushing over the country's leader, failing to suppress a burst of giggles.

"I know he's so brave and strong, it's no wonder he can do his job so well," another girlish voice replied to the former with obvious admiration. "With intellect such as his and a firm grasp of military techniques he truly does know what he's doing huh?"

He wasn't surprised to hear about the Fuhrer's success in bringing down Isaac, which had been clearly evident in the alleyway last night. Isaac's body lay slain and surrounded by a pool of blood covered with a blanket, the Fuhrer standing there with a triumphant expression as though he'd just killed a huge monster and had protected his castle from a great enemy. "Slain" was a proper way to describe it, for Isaac had died after receiving a couple of slashes to his upper torso area just along the shoulders, or so Sam had heard, massive blood loss the ultimate cause of his death. Bradley sure had put that sword of his to good use.

What bothered Sam was the fact that he seemed to be the only one to notice that there was something seriously wrong with Bradley, Sam could sense it; practically feel it. That kind of certainty that went from your brain to your blood and straight into your bones with its intensity, you just knew the truth even if you couldn't necessarily prove it. But how he planned to prove that the Fuhrer was something other than he seemed Sam didn't know, at least not yet. Just thinking about it made the ache in his head throb a little more.

"Excuse me?"

Sam had been so caught up in his thoughts he hadn't realized someone had approached him; it took him a moment to realize that the pounding he thought had been the ache in his head was actually the clanking footsteps of none other than Alphonse himself. He stood just a few feet away, looking at Sam in what the younger hunter could only guess was a cautious "expression".

At this proximity, Sam took a moment to let sink in the details of what Alphonse looked like now that he had a better view. The very first thing he noticed was how tall Alphonse was; he had to be at seven-feet or higher. Having to look up to someone wasn't a norm for Sam, and it made him feel almost dwarfed compared to Al's size. Suddenly he knew how Dean must feel sometimes, having to crane his neck slightly just to look at his younger brother.

Sam also noted the spikes on his shoulder-blades, the bit of feathery "hair" stemming from the top of his head, the enormous breastplate that came to a point just above the abdominal area. His hands appeared to be of some sort of glove-like material with metal plates adorning the backs of them, and he had a sort of white tunic that covered his private area in both front and back. Peering more closely, Sam realized that the shape of his body was nothing like a robot, but rather a suit of armor.

Armor?

"Hi, we haven't been properly introduced," the "robot" in question stretched out a "gloved"-metal hand. "I'm Alphonse Elric. The other one you met last night, in the red coat, that's my brother Ed."

Not wanting to appear rude, Sam accepted Al's offered hand, nodding as he did so. "I'm Sam Winchester. It's nice to meet you Alphonse."

There's no one in there, it's empty! But that…..that can only be true if the soul was bonded to the armor.

The words tumbled into the front of his brain out of nowhere, Isaac's accusatory statement making more sense now that Sam had had time to think. Immediately his mind latched onto that bit of information, something he'd overlooked in all the confusion. Initially he'd thought Isaac had just been mouthing off or maybe that he was drunk when he said it, but that was before he found out that it was armor and not some robotic suit. But soul attachment? Alphonse? That was crazy, crazier than the craziest of things they had ever hunted in the past. Sam had fought countless spirits, had dealt with spirit attachments particularly with cursed objects that had put up one hell of a fight. But not a single one of those instances could equal to the scale of Alphonse if what Isaac said was true. It just…couldn't be.

So you lost your arm…and your brother…he lost his entire body.

What had he meant by that? Did Alphonse die and his spirit was attached to the armor? And what did he mean by having lost an arm? Meaning Ed's arm?

Now that he thought about it, Sam remembered that Ed's hands had been sheathed in a pair of white gloves so he hadn't been able to see them. Could what Isaac said be true then?

"Are you okay?" Al's voice, full of slight concert and a kind of innocence that only kids could have, broke through Sam's thoughts once again.

Sam knew asking him about it would lead to certain consequences, that he would be stepping across an unspoken boundary of some sort, but he'd dealt with enough in the last twenty-four hours and was currently in no mood for a tactful approach….somewhat.

"Al...," he started off cautiously, "Can you tell me…..that is….what happened to you?"

Al's head whipped back slightly, as though Sam had dealt some kind of blow with that question, he even made a phantomlike gasp that sounded almost hollow. It occurred to Sam, now that he could hear him more clearly, Al's voice sounded hollow as well, leaving the younger hunter to believe that he truly was empty on the inside.

"I heard him Alphonse," Sam continued, his voice growing soft so as to ease the boy's obvious stress. "I heard what Isaac said…about your brother….about you."

Alphonse shook his head, then dipped it down a notch or two as though he were ashamed. But why would he be? What could he, a child, possibly have done to warrant shame?

"You wouldn't understand," he finally answered, his voice barely a whisper and reverberating inside his hollow suit as though he'd spoken into a metal bucket.

Before another word could be said, Al turned and walked off, leaving Sam to mull over what could possibly have happened to the poor kid.

The instant silence was broken by the reappearance of Dean followed closely by Bobby who, to Sam's knowledge, had instantly gone into researcher-hunter mode after their narrow escape from Isaac and the ice wall. He'd left them in the waiting room with the reassurance that he would do some digging, given what little resources they had that wasn't going to be an easy thing to do, but Bobby could be a miracle worker if the occasion called for a Singer-style information loophole.

"I've got bad news and worst news," he offered bluntly, cutting straight to the point.

"Bad first," Dean replied, moving to lean against the wall next to Sam, arms crossed over his chest.

"Bad news is, we're not in Kansas anymore," Bobby confessed, looking exactly how Sam felt; like he'd just spent the past several hours without sleep and a boatload of confusion with no filter to sort through it with.

"And the worst news?" Dean risked asking, his dread for what was to come evident in the bitter expression on his face.

"Well, I've had a nice little chat with one of the nurses...and," Bobby shifted his weight slightly, seemingly uncomfortable with what he was about to say. "It appears we're not even on the same damn planet anymore after all."

There was a moment of silence, during which both Sam and Dean stared at Bobby, exchanged disbelieving looks, then stared at Bobby some more, open-mouthed and clearly in the dark on this.

"What does that mean exactly?" Sam asked, matching his brother's dread, a familiar tug pulling at his brain.

No, not now. Please not now.

"I went over to ask how to get back to the U.S. and this woman looked at me like I was some kind of whacky tourist," Bobby retorted, his agitation a reflection of what the boys were beginning to feel now that his words were starting to sink in. "Apparently the U.S doesn't even exist….and neither do some other countries I named off when she couldn't figure out what I was talking about. That leaves me to believe we're in damn Oz right now."

He allowed them to stew over that for a moment or two, Dean reaching up to press his knuckles against his lips, a customary position he often took when he was in a thinking mode. Sam watched him for a moment, hoping that his brother would have something, anything, that could help them make sense of all this. He hated being in situations like this, dealing with something that was beyond their comprehension.

Tug

"So what do we do now?" Dean finally turned to face the other two, but considering their current money-less, gun-less as well as homeless predicament, their options were as slim as a twig.

Tug

"Sammy?"

Sam didn't register Dean's voice at first, his brain was pulling back into itself, a familiar blackness was starting to prickle at his peripheral.

"Sammy you okay?"

Tug

"Dean….."

Tug. Tug.

Somehow Sam found himself hurdling towards the floor, his world turning first hazy than becoming sprinkled with black dots that tickled his vision. He thought he heard Dean calling for him but his mind was too preoccupied with escaping to make note of it.

Pull.

And everything went black.