ain't asking nobody but myself
Because, you know, I haven't posted enough today. Fic time! I blame this on catystorm, even though I am not entirely sure why.
Title: Broken Boy Soldiers
Fandom: Supernatural/Fullmetal Alchemist crossover
Summary: Sam's quest to save Dean leads down some strange paths, to some even smaller stranger people. PG, 1000 words
Sam knocks on the apartment door, trying to stretch the kinks out of his shoulders. He's been driving for nineteen hours with barely a stop, but this time he thinks he might really be on the right track. This isn't organ-stealing wannabes, it's not trickster gods or demon deals. It's something different, and a thrill of disbelief runs through him again as he thinks about what he's asking for.
A series of chains and locks click, the sure sign of a healthy paranoia, and the door swings open a crack. The person in the doorway has long, braided blond hair and looks like a high-school student--maybe a son? "Um, hi," Sam says, putting on his best friendly, no-I-am-not-a-crazy-demon-hunter face. "I'm looking for Mr. Elric?"
The kid narrows his eyes.
"Mr...Edward Elric?" Sam clarifies. His glance flickers up to the number on the door. Nineteen-twenty-three: it's the right place...
"I'm Ed," the kid finally growls.
"Oh." Sam blinks. "I'm sorry, I just expected someone a little, uh...taller."
Ed's fists clench tight, and a dangerous glint shines in his eyes. Sam immediately regrets saying anything.
"Sorry, sorry. Um...I came here to ask for your help."
Ed glares. "You want to come in?" he asks, more challenge than invitation. "Or are you too freaked out by the fact that I'm a midget bean too small to be seen with the naked eye?"
Sam frowns. "I never said that."
"Whatever." He shuts the door, unhooks the last chain, and throws the door open so Sam can come in. Now Sam can see that the kid's wearing all black, jeans and long sleeves even in the late August heat, and a pair of white gloves like librarians use to handle rare manuscripts. Ed wanders back into a tiny kitchen, where the remains of a lunch are spread out on the table. Sheets of paper lie scattered around, some covered with symbols and half-drawn circles that look like demon traps. Sam smiles faintly--this, at least, is familiar territory.
Ed nods at a chair and opens the refrigerator door. "You want a beer?"
Are you even old enough to be asking me that question? Sam thinks. "Sure," he says instead.
Ed snags two bottles and twists the caps off before passing one to Sam. He hooks his boot around the leg of a chair and slumps into it. "So what do you want?"
Sam sips his beer to buy time. "They said, uh--" He steels himself, knowing how ridiculous this sounds. "They told me you were an alchemist."
"Yeah," he says, a trace of smugness tinting his voice. "I'm the Fullmetal Alchemist. So what do you want?" he repeats.
Sam's heart leaps. "So you are? It's for real? Alchemy, I mean--lead into gold, eternal life, it's all true?"
"Some of it," Ed replies unhelpfully.
"What does that mean?"
Ed drains his beer and studies the bottle intently. He claps his hands together once, hard and precise, and touches the bottle. There's a flash of impossibly bright light, and when Sam's vision finally clears there's an elegant glass vase where the bottle had been.
Sam reaches out, takes hold of the vase, and looks it over. No illusion here--it's as solid as the bottle in his other hand. "How did you do that?"
"It's a simple transmutation--changing a substance from one form to another. Normally it requires a transmutation circle, but..." He trails off, and Sam knows he's not getting the whole story. Ed changes topics. "But you didn't come here for arts and crafts."
Sam clenches his hands around his beer. He might as well get to the point. "It's my brother. He--" Sam sighs. "He did something kind of stupid. He sold his soul, to save my life. And then he...his year was up, and he- he died." Even after so long, the words are hard to say. He squares his shoulders, looks Edward in the eye. "I want you to bring him back."
Ed takes a long swig of beer and looks down at the chipped wooden table for a long minute. "I...know how you feel," he says slowly.
"Then you'll help me?" Sam asks, hope warming the pit of his stomach.
Ed shakes his head. "I can't bring your brother back."
"But--the Elixir of Life--"
"I said I can't," he snaps. "Human transmutation isn't just taboo--it's impossible. And the price for trying is..." He sighs and pulls off the white gloves, then rolls up his sleeve.
Sam blinks hard. Ed's right hand--his whole right arm--is encased in a metal glove like a suit of armor. "It's automail," he explains, flexing his fingers. "Or as close as you can get in this world." He taps on his left knee, and the denim-softened clunk is very audible over the refrigerator's faint hum. "Prosthetic limbs, to replace the ones that I lost trying to bring...someone...back."
Sam frowns at Ed's automail and takes a deep breath. "An arm and a leg, huh? Okay. I can do that." Sam wonders if it's possible to decide which arm to give up--he'd like to keep his right one, for shooting and for...other things.
Ed slams his fist on the table, knocking a splinter from the edge. "It cost me my arm and my leg. It cost my brother his entire body. And it still didn't work."
"Why not?" Sam asks. "All of the books say it's possible."
"Do you see a scar on my head? This isn't Harry Potter."
"I know that," Sam snaps, angry at having his hopes dashed so quickly. This was his last best chance, and now this kid is sitting in front of him telling him that it'll never work. He takes a deep, ragged breath. "Why not?" he asks again, more calmly. "Why can't you bring someone back?"
Ed shakes his head. "Humankind," he recites, "cannot gain anything without first giving something in return. To obtain, something of equal value must be lost." He flexes his metal hand. "That is alchemy's first law of equivalent exchange."