Horde Against Horde
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Joss owns Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Walking Dead is by Robert Kirkmen. I repeat, I own nothing.
A/N: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.
They were always loud when they fought.
The world was so quiet now. The few who were still alive were forced to hide – huddled quietly and fearfully in their homes awaiting the end.
They wouldn’t do that. Couldn’t even if they wanted to.
They were Slayers, Slayers on the hunt. Screaming wide-eyed defiance at the top of their lungs – hundreds of Xena calls, once practiced laughingly, now used resolutely against these dead unnatural creatures that defiled their world. A savage joy in this violence heavily tinged in sense of vengeance – vengeance for the person this zombie was before the bite took over, before it became this thing that it was now more than
a mercy to kill. A feeling of essential eradication that was triggered on sight by these mindless creatures that had overtaken everything so quickly and without any warning.
No prophesies or Slayer dreams to preface this apocalypse. (Nice going PTB.)
They all traveled as a group, no one any longer allowed to patrol alone like they used to. They fought the zombies, army against army. Horde against horde.
Little girls sharpening knives and smiling into the darkness, giving it something to fear, like their sisters had for thousands of years now. This felt right. This is what they were born for – why they had agreed to be strong.
Army against army. Horde against horde.
Slayers always won.
Death was their gift.