Blood, Sweat and Motion.
I own neither Buffy the Vampire Slayer or 300.
Short rundown, this will be a very short fic of three to five short scenes but basically, Buffy's been send back in time to the events within 300.
She was sweat. She was blood.
There was no end between the two, as they ran over and around her body, no inch of her uncovered.
They had seen her as she fought through Xerxes’ hordes.
She had come from nothing, had simply appeared.
Leonidas had looked to the cliffs behind them to search for enemy archers when he had seen her fling herself off the rock and before them.
She had landed before the immortals and his Captain, Artemis.
She had not spoken a word, nor declared her intent.
She had just unsheathed a sword from her back, and attacked the masked fiends.
She had fought well, Leonidas had been unable to witness a flaw in her skill, her ruthlessness as she cut down twice and again the amount of men as had he, Artemis and his son Astinos.
Her eyes had flashed as black as the darkest night when she had behead the mutant, and golden-plaits were drenched red as she dispersed any resistance.
He held no knowledge of what great God or Goddess would send this warrior to his aid, but he would make great sacrifices until his death; this he swore.
She was death. She was motion.
She screamed in some blasphemous tongue that he could not understand, harsh as it was to his and his enemy’s ears alike.
She created piles of Xerxes’ forces, bodies strewn with no pity, no chance to retreat.
She was unfathomable to him, but it did not matter, for he had a frightened ‘god’ to put in his place.
He may not understand why or for what purpose this woman was sent; but he knew that he might now live to see his wife again.