Sam is not a Magus in this, he has no prana. The ONLY reason he lives is because heaven tweaked his aura enough to survive and still have a Servant. He's more of an observer in the Fate/Zero storyline.

Do NOT complain about how magecraft doesn't work like this or the lack of details. This is mostly from a Hunter's viewpoint.This is a Supernatural/ Fate/Zero cross, so enjoy.


It had been almost two months since Dean died at the hands of hellhounds. During that time he had tried and failed everything he could to bring his brother back, or at least get him out of hell. All the while Ruby hovered around the fringes just waiting for Sam to give in and accept her help.

He was at the edge of giving up all hope when he found something online that had his attention. It wasn't much, just a forum for some Europeans. But what was currently on the discussion board caught his immediate interest.

A tournament where the prize was a single wish. It wasn't even that hard, you had to summon some sort of familiar to fight for you, and the winner was the last man standing with an active "command seal". It was even overseen by the Church, so it couldn't be that bad.

And from what the board said, the tournament was currently active.

Which meant he had a chance to save Dean, even if it mean traveling halfway around the world to a country he had never been before.

A few inquiries provided the ritual to summon a "Servant". As well as a copy of the circle required. He didn't know why the other people on the board were so wary of this Kaleidoscope_Wizard, but if it meant saving his brother he'd make a deal with a demon.

He had a few chickens and a rough sketch made of chalk to help him pour fresh blood along the lines. As he did so, he recited the incantation he had spent hours memorizing perfectly.

He didn't understand anything about 'circuits' or 'crests'. All he knew was that this was as good a chance as any to save his brother, and that all he had to do was win some fight between six others.

Sam almost shouted the last line of the incantation, and felt something seem to test him as the lines light up brightly in the night. He winced as his right hand seemed to bleed from nothing, forming the shape of great wings on the back of it. They were a red color, but there was something...off about it. It was almost dull, as if someone had dried the blood very quickly.

"Are you my Master...?" asked a wisp of a figure. It was translucent, but still more real than most ghosts he had dealt with. The fact it was able to tolerate salt was another clue as well.

"I'm the one who summoned you," said Sam, a little surprised. He wasn't expecting a ghost.

The figure looked down at itself, before looking back at Sam.

"Something seems to have gone wrong with the summoning. I am unable to take physical form."

"Is that a bad thing?"

The figure gave him a flat look.

"Without physical form, I cannot protect you from the other Servants, much less the Masters. More than that, I can sense that the Lancer of this war has already been summoned," he stated flatly.

"War? What war? I thought this was a simple tournament!"

"You really have no idea what you just got yourself into, do you?"

Seeing Sam's expression, the figure sighed.

"This is going to be a long flight to Fuyuki, I can just tell."


One week later...

A rather tall figure with a duffel bag and a pair of gloves walked off the plane. It had been a total hassle faking an ID that would come up clean so he could register for a passport. They took that a lot more seriously than pretending to be an FBI agent.

Fortunately that's what birth certificates were for, and the only real change he made was to his last name. As far as anyone needed to know, he had opted to go by his mother's maiden name rather than his father's after a dispute with the man.

Sam Campbell was just checking in to a rather cheap hotel when he heard the explosion. His eyes went wide as they flew to the really fancy hotel on the other side of the river.

The entire building was collapsing in on itself. However there was no way he could do anything about it.

Lancer was quite clear. If the other Masters knew of his predicament, they'd kill him without a second thought. Mostly because it was almost impossible to kill a Servant when they were astralized.

Sam made sure to keep everything centralized so he could grab and leave with a moment's notice. Until he could figure out a way to materialize Lancer properly, there was no way he could obtain the grail.

Which meant he was quite literally the weakest Master in the war.

Sam frowned. His hunter's instincts were on high alert when he heard the reports of missing children all over the city. Far too many for it to be normal. Which was why he went looking...and ended up running into a rather large man that almost put Sam to shame in the size department and a weaker kid that looked almost as out of place as Sam did in this mess.

"Who are you?" he asked in choppy Japanese.

"My name is Sam. Are you here investigating the disappearance of the children too?"

"What? No, I'm investigating the traces of magecraft I found in the river water. My name's Waver, by the way," he said in English. It was rather accented, probably because he came from England or the UK.

"And what about the big guy? It's pretty rare for me to find anyone bigger than I am, and people generally liken me to a moose," said Sam joking, to put the nervous kid at ease. It worked.

"His name is..."

"I am Iskander, the King of Conquerors!" declared the red head proudly.

"Well, Alexander the Great, I am Sam, a Hunter."

"Hunter of what?" asked Waver.

Sam looked at him oddly.

"Do they not have Hunters in England? We take out things like werewolves, vampires and ghosts."

"Oh, you're an Enforcer. I wasn't aware they dealt with ghosts and werewolves," said Waver, relaxing.

"What's an Enforcer?" said Sam, baffled.

"You are a Magus...aren't you?"

"I only heard that term a few weeks ago. Anyway from what I've been able to tell, most of the missing children vanished within a mile from roughly this area. If we're lucky, then we'll be able to rescue some of them. If not...well I brought gasoline and a box of matches."

Iskander nodded solemnly. He liked this man, even if he wasn't actually a Magus.

So while they rode on Iskander's chariot, the Servant and odd American quietly spoke. Waver was able to gather enough to know that while Sam wasn't an Enforcer, he was a pretty close equivalent. He follow breadcrumbs to supernatural threats and took them out before they did too much damage.

He was also as much a scholar as Waver himself, and a vivid fan of history. It didn't take much for him to get Iskander to talk about life when he was still alive, rather than a Servant.

All talk ceased when they reached the end of the pipe. Forewarned by the smell, Sam tried to keep Waver from seeing the sight around them.

He handled the massacre of children fairly well, for a greenhorn.

"Who could do something like this?" said Waver, breathing through a cloth around his mouth. Sam had been nice enough to loan it to him so he didn't have to smell most of it.

"I've learned it's better not to ask questions like what motivates creatures capable to do something like this. Can you find any clues where the thing that did this is?" asked Sam sadly.

Waver did his best to look for clues, gagging a few times. Meanwhile Sam and Rider had blank expressions on their faces as they began to collect the bodies and put them into piles so that they could at least give them a dignified burial.

Sam and Waver spoke a few prayers of the dead (Waver was surprised to find that he knew Latin well enough to speak it so easily) before they tossed the matches into the drenched piles. It would draw attention to the mass grave, but it also meant that Waver didn't have to hide what had happened to the dead children.

Once they were out in the fresh air, Sam handed him some peppermints to settle Waver's poor stomach.

"Does it get any easier?" he asked.

"If it does, then you know you've been hunting far too long. Just remember that if we take out the monster that did this, then they won't be able to harm another person ever again. It makes the pain and shock just a little more bearable," said Sam weakly.

It didn't help the inevitable nightmares that Waver had that night, but fortunately Rider had a solution. He got his Master so drunk that he wouldn't be seeing straight for a day or two at least.

Hangovers were preferable to the nightmares.


Gilgamesh was in a somewhat foul mood. He kept sensing his friend around, but it was faint. Almost like an echo.

As he wandered around Fuyuki, sneering at the way humanities fangs had been dulled over the ages, he came across something that practically demanded his attention.

It was human, of that he had no doubt...but there were subtle hints of something more around him. The tall man was very out of place, and he had the bearing of a true warrior, not the paltry imitations that existed. This was someone who had gone through countless trials by fire and come out alive, stronger. And yet at the same time there was a fragility about his demeanor stating it would only take the smallest push for him to snap and become something greater or lesser than a man should be.

In short he was something very interesting indeed, and yet perfectly comfortable in the current age.

Which meant he had to learn more about him, if only to assuage his boredom at the moment.

He wasn't more than a few feet from the man when he suddenly looked up...and Gilgamesh caught a flicker of something behind him.

The closer he got, the more defined the flicker became.

When he was within the man's reach, he spoke the one name he hadn't dared hope to see again.

"Enkidu."

"Gilgamesh."

"How it this possible?" he asked.

"Sam found the incantation and circle, but was unaware of what they were actually for. And since Lancer was already summoned when he found it... the ritual didn't fully take," shrugged Enkidu. "I am little more than a shade, unable to do anything. If I try to fully materialize I'd only end up killing Sam, which would cause me to disappear as well."

"Hmph. Has he been treating you well?" asked Gilgamesh.

"He listens to my stories and writes them down so he doesn't forget. For a warrior he is quite fascinating."

Gilgamesh looked at Sam, who was politely reading his books and giving him the semblance of privacy.

A warrior and a scholar. A mere glance revealed that the book the man was reading was about the legend of Gilgamesh himself.

"Why are you unable to manifest properly?"he asked finally.

"Sam has no active magic circuits. Something seems to be acting in place of them, but I am unaware what it is. If he were to forcibly activate them, I might be able to manifest properly."

Gilgamesh had little interest in the Grail if he could have Enkidu by his side. And from what he could tell, this "Sam" would be just as happy to serve as a scribe to tell others of his greatness. He hadn't been very happy to find that more people knew who King Arthur or Iskander were, but almost none of them knew who Gilgamesh was.

"Hmph. There is a simple solution to fix that. If you return again tomorrow I will have something that should awaken any magic circuits you may have," said Gilgamesh arrogantly. He wasn't using any of his treasures if he could simply take something from Tokiomi's own stash to use. He had yet to determine if this Sam person was worthy to speak to him personally.

It took little effort to acquire a jewel that looked appropriate. It wasn't like Tokiomi would get very far as his Master. The man was barely suitable and far too arrogant for Gilgamesh to like.


"I'm sorry about his attitude."

"It's fine. I've handled worse when Dean was high on painkillers and hallucinating. And while he is very arrogant, from what I can tell it's more or less justified. So long as he doesn't go killing people indiscriminately I can live with him being around a lot," said Sam.

"On the plus side, it does seem like he approves of you, to a point. At least you have something to work off of," said Enkidu somewhat cheerfully.

"Well it's better than him hating me for no reason, I guess," said Sam depressed. He had been upset when he found the remains of the children, and horrified when he learned where the other 'survivors' went to.

This Caster was nothing less than a monster, pure and simple. He had to be taken out before he obtained even more victims.

While Enkidu couldn't manifest a physical form, he had discovered there were benefits to being a strange sort of ghost. For one thing he had a rather wide leash with which to spy on the other Masters (it was the main reason Sam found the first "workshop" as he called it so quickly). He had also ascertained who all the Masters and what their Servants were.

Sam didn't like the idea of being an assassin, but the Master of the Caster Servant was just as deranged and evil as his Servant. He had to die before he caused further damage.

He had no interest in the Grail after Enkidu patiently explained that even if he did obtain it, he never would gain his actual wish... return of his brother or releasing him from his eternal tenure in hell.

It might have been called the Holy Grail, but it most certainly wasn't the mythical artifact. It was doubtful the real thing even had such a power to begin with.

So Sam sucked it up, as he always did, and decided to make the best of an awkward situation. In fact it was doing wonders for his depression, because Enkidu assured him that the Servants would be ancient heroes. Heroes who might be more than happy to share their stories for him to write down and remember.

Iskander was clearly of that persuasion. In fact he was happy to boast about his own legend.

It was because he knew what he had to do that he decided there couldn't be any harm visiting the Church. If only to gain a little spiritual stability before he had to kill a human.

Kill a ghost? No problem. Kill a vampire? Hand him a machete and he was good to go. Werewolves? Difficult but he didn't lose a wink of sleep at night.

Killing a human because he was a monster that the modern society couldn't handle, much less arrest because he was a Master?

Yeah, he needed something to bolster his spirit up before he did his job as a Hunter. He viewed the Master of Caster as a very twisted sort of witch.

If he had known the headaches he was going to get from his visit to a simple church, he might have thought twice about it. Alas, he hadn't known the more...common...small details of the war he had jumped in without knowing.