Okay…I was working on my other "Dawn" story (Dawn to Dawn) and stalled in the middle of a paragraph. When I do that with a story, I try to switch over to something else until my mind's engine sputters back into life. This somewhat unlikely crossover (aren't they all, though?) is the bastard child of that attempt. The plot is sketchy in my mind, so feel free to offer suggestions. I may or may not use them, but feel free!
This is set at the beginning of the 2004 version of "Dawn of the Dead" and after the series finale of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer."
Have Fun!
Pyxelle
The Sons of Belial
Chapter 1
The day the world ended started like any other day. People over the globe went about their daily business, not knowing that in only hours reality as they knew it would come crashing down around them. Children played, the stores opened on schedule, and movie theatres played their films without the knowledge that it would be the last time they would do so. The human races' faith in the continuity of reality had held true so far, at least. There was no reason to fear anything else.
At least, so most of humanity thought.
But Buffy Summers wasn't part of most of humanity.
Buffy Summers, after all, was the Slayer.
OoooOoooO
"I can't sleep."
Willow groaned. "Xander, I'm sorry you can't sleep. But could you at least let Buffy and I do it? You've been announcing your insomnia for three hours. Give it a rest already."
"Sorry." Xander said, his voice sheepish. "I don't like hotel rooms. I always wake up and forget where I am."
"For the record, Milwaukee, Wisconsin." Willow reminded him. "The same place we've been for the last three days."
"Yeah, I know that. Its when I wake up that I have problems."
There was an irritated noise from the bed near Xander. "Then bloody well keep the rest of us up too, then, Xander. Why on Earth should we sleep?" Giles sat up just enough to peer at Xander, his eyes unfocussed without his glasses but irritated. "I mean, lets just make sure that we're all exhausted when we have to face the apocalypse – another one, I mean. Why would we have to be rested for that?"
"Excuse me." Xander said with a huff. "I-"
"Guys? I actually am the one who has to avert the apocalypse, right? So could you please be quiet?" Buffy's voice was muffled from the pillow she had over her head. "Otherwise I'm gonna just let you all be apocalypsed, okay?" She grumbled almost imperceptibly. "Who's bright idea was it to save money by sharing one hotel room?"
"Sorry." Xander said again. Willow just kept her mouth shut. She knew better than to anger Buffy when she was annoyed. Buffy annoyed was not a fun thing to see.
"Sorry." Giles affirmed. Willow silently cursed him for still speaking. He should know better. He was her watcher, for crying out loud. "Buffy's right. It's almost dawn."
The silence held for a few moments, and Willow began to drift off. Suddenly Xander's voice broke the silence again.
"Is there such a word as apocalypsed?" He asked.
Willow sat up, her pillow in hand, ready to aim the feather-stuffed missile at him. "Okay, Xander, I-"
There was a scream down the hallway, a sound of not just pain but an agonizing fear. Buffy was out of her bed in a shot. "Guess sleep is gonna wait – again." She said, grabbing a crossbow that she had shoved under her bed. She also threw on a black leather trench coat that Willow knew had weapons stashed in various places within it. "Let's go guys... ready?"
Both Giles and Xander were out of bed as quickly as she was. Both of them were fully dressed – but Willow wasn't surprised, so was she. Giles hadn't given them too many details about the latest end-of-the-world rap, but they had experienced enough to know that they had to be prepared just in case.
Even Buffy had slept in her jeans.
"Ready." Willow said, opening herself up to the dark energies that always threatened to consume her…just enough.
"Ready." Xander said, winking at her…sort of. The eye patch kind of made it hard to tell.
"Ready." Giles said.
"Okay." Buffy grinned at them before opening the door. "Let's go kick this apocalypse's ass."
OoooOoooO
Michael ran. He wished he didn't have to, but he ran all the same. Part of him – a large part – wanted to turn around and embrace the creature chasing him, tell her it was going to be all right, that she was fine…
But that was a lie.
The truth of the matter was the thing chasing him wasn't his daughter. He had to keep telling himself that. It wasn't his daughter. It was something else…he didn't know what, but it wasn't his daughter….not Justine…not Justine…
Justine's cry of rage hit his ears as he turned a corner and momentarily disappeared from her view. There was no salvation here, though, no protection, no sanctuary…just more of those things and himself. Oh, he saw cars, and others such as himself…you could tell by just who was being chased…but there seemed to be no safe place to hide. He was going to fall prey to his own flesh and blood, because that was still what he was, though she apparently wasn't…at least, not anymore...
Michael turned another corner sharply, not really looking where he was going, and nearly ended his life by running headlong into a van that looked to be accelerating to a speed well beyond the limits. He skidded to a stop, the van's horn honking at him, and watched as the vehicle spun to motionlessness and the back doors opened.
"Help!' He cried immediately, letting them know he was not a threat.
A tall black man gestured to him, indicating he should enter. Michael ran to the scant refuge gratefully, still hearing Justine's horribly altered screaming behind him. The black man grabbed his hand even as the van started accelerating, pulling Michael into the van and out of the reach of the thing that had once been his daughter. "Thanks." Michael gasped, finally realizing just how out of breath he was. He nearly collapsed to the floor of the van.
"You okay?" The black man asked.
"No." Michael managed to say. "Not at all."
The other man laughed mirthlessly. "Same here, man."
Michael put his head on the floor of the van. The sides had no windows, and Michael was grateful. He didn't want to see his daughter's face like that again. "What's happening?"
"I got no fucking clue." The black man said.
"Justine…my daughter…she-"
"You don't have to say it. I know."
Michael looked at him. "Where are we going?"
The black man laughed. "I got no fucking clue. I told you that already. Away. As far away as we can get." He stuck out his hand, a gesture that for some reason seemed absurd to Michael considering the events that were happening outside. Manners seemed absurd. Yet he shook the hand. "My name's Jay. The guy who's driving is Jose, and the girl riding shotgun is Yvette. The others are Tim and Hannah." He said, pointing them out. "And the pregnant chick and her hubby are Luda and Andre. You got a name, mister?"
"Michael."
"Hi."
"Shit, the road's filled with the bastards." Jose suddenly said. "What the hell should I do?"
"Ram the bastards." Jay said without hesitation.
"But-" Michael started in protest.
"Them or us, man." Jay said to him, allowing him one look of sympathy.
"But-"
Michael never finished the thought. The van struck something, hard, and suddenly the vehicle rolled, sending Michael into a spin, only sheer luck keeping him from breaking his neck. When they stopped, he stared at the ceiling in disbelief…he stared at the floor, that is. The van had landed upside down.
"Holy shit." He heard someone say, Andre, he thought. "You okay, baby?"
"I'm fine." A woman with a Russian accent responded. Her voice was high and frightened. "Andre, the van-"
"Don't worry, I'll figure something out."
Jose, the driver, seemed to be unconscious behind the steering wheel and collapsed airbag in front of him. There was no doubt that Yvette was dead – a large piece of glass had punctured her neck, two-thirds of the way decapitating her. Somehow, the six in the back were relatively unharmed – except for Jay, whose arm was bent at an unnatural angle and whose face was slack with the bliss of unconsciousness. God must have been watching over them.
Hah. That was a laugh.
"We need to get out of here." Michael said, trying to bring his mind into focus.
"Go where?" The girl…Hannah? asked.
"Not here. This is a deathtrap."
Tim crawled towards the door. "This van is sturdy, mister, and if you think –"
The door to the back of the van was suddenly thrust open, and Tim found himself face to face with a woman who's neck had not only been torn out, it had been pulverized. There seemed to be barely enough tissue to keep the head upright. Tim let out a scream of pure terror before being pulled into the arms of this woman, not in an embrace but a crushing clinging of death. "Run!" Michael said instinctively, darting past the woman who held Tim without thinking, heading for the relatively safe road beyond. He heard footsteps following, how many he couldn't tell. He ran anyways. He ran until his lungs felt as if they would burst, and stopped only because he felt he had no choice in the matter…it was either stop or die of a brain hemorrhage anyways.
When Michael finally stopped, he looked behind him. Only Luda and Andre remained. They were near a fence, in a back road that obviously was rarely used.
Michael watched Luda's struggled breathing for a moment, and then looked to Andre. "She alright?" He asked.
"Does she look fucking all right?" Andre shot back.
Michael shook his head. "All right, dumb question." He allowed. The ground was rough here, but he stepped up to the fence and looked beyond. "Hey. Andre. Luda. See that?"
"What?" Andre said, not moving from his wife.
"Crossroads mall." Michael looked at the two. "It's early enough. No one would be there yet."
"No one but those fuckers" Andre said pointedly.
"Better than sitting outside like this." Michael retorted. "I don't want to sit outside anywhere right now. At least it's a shot."
Andre looked at his pretty wife. She nodded her head. "Okay. But we be careful."
Michael looked at him, one eyebrow cocked. "And you expected anything else?"
The three of them started to walk along the fence line, looking for a safe place to enter the mall. After a moment Michael couldn't help the wry smile that went to his features.
Safe. Was there such a place? Or anyone who could guarantee such a thing?
OoooOoooO
"There's too many of them!" Buffy yelled, her voice panicked. They had fought their way out of the hotel with little difficulty, but the streets outside were even worse, and Xander knew that there wasn't a whole lot they could do to protect themselves if Buffy was giving up.
"What?" He shouted, kicking a man who by all rights should not have been moving in the knee. Xander didn't have a lot of confidence that this would stop him. For one thing, the knee in question had already looked like it had been, well, chewed, and Xander didn't think his foot would really add to the damage value that had already been done. For another, he was pretty sure the man was already dead, which of course made physical pain less of a deterrent. After all, if you were dead, why would pain bother you?
"Run!" Buffy screamed, kicking one woman while swinging another by the neck until she had been propelled at a great speed away from them. "Run!"
That penetrated Xander's brain easily. If Buffy said to run, you had better well run. By some miracle Xander's kick was well aimed, and the dead man hit the floor. "Running!" he shouted back to Buffy as he sprinted along behind her. Merciful Zeus! He thought as he ran. There were so many of them…hundreds. Just here on this street. What on earth would the rest of the city be like? Were they at epicenter? And just why would the Best Western be the epicenter?
"Xander!" He heard Willow shout behind him. "Look out!"
Out of the corner of his eye Xander saw movement. Instinctively, he ducked, but his forward speed was too great and the change in direction sent him tumbling to the ground. He let out a strangled scream as his hands pushed up frantically against the pavement. Damn his eye! The thing had blindsided him on his bad side.
The woman – no, thing screeched in an unnatural pitch as she descended on him. He wrestled with her for a moment, just trying to throw her off of him, but she was strong – and fast. He might have well been wrestling Buffy. "Help!" He yelled, his cry being lost in the sound of others screaming their own pleas.
His, however, had the fortune to be answered. A cold wind blew over him, and the creature shimmered, as if it was losing corporality before his eyes. Then he realized it wasn't just the dead woman on top of him, but the street and everything else as well – except for Buffy, the only one of the Scoobies still in his sight. What on earth…?
Xander didn't question the fact that they had suddenly appeared in the hollow of a bridge, he just allowed himself to be grateful and pushed himself up off the ground. "Beam me up, Scotty." He said shakily, brushing the dirt off him and ignoring the sharp pain in his shoulder for the moment. "Thanks, Will, I'm guessing you did some hocus-pocus to get us out of there, though I don't know why you'd choose a bridge –"
"Don't make me do that again." Willow growled at him in a voice that was recognizably hers but overlaid with a dark, throbbing timbre. Xander looked up at her in fear. Her eyes shone with an inky darkness as she stared at him. "You really don't want me too."
"Uh, sure, Will." Xander said, holding up his hands. "I'll try not to get eaten, I promise."
"This is no time for jokes." Giles said, wiping his glasses on a handkerchief. Xander thought that even if he'd been threatened by a pack of ravening wolves, Giles would keep his handkerchief handy. "Willow, can you handle it?"
Willow suddenly let out a shuddering breath, and the black film drained from her eyes. "Y-yeah. I think so." She looked at Xander, her eyes widening. "Oh, Xander, you're hurt. I'm sorry –"
"Its okay." Xander hurried to say. "I'm okay."
"So, where'd you beam us to, then,Will?" Buffy asked, looking around at her surroundings for a moment. "It's quiet here."
"Well, not far." Willow admitted. "It takes more energy the further you go – and I didn't really want to draw too much. Especially considering I was carrying three passengers on the ride." Willow shrugged. "I'm betting we're still in Milwaukee."
"Maybe it was localized downtown, then. Let's head back and-"
The sound of a gun cocking behind her halted her words. The four of them turned slightly, just enough to see a tall black man in an officer's uniform and a blonde woman nearly covered in blood stepping in behind them. "Whoa, whoa, don't shoot." Xander said quickly, his arms rising instinctively. "We're all friends here, right?" A gunshot rang against the concrete.
"Don't shoot!" Another voice called, from behind him. Xander spun around to see another man and a dark-haired pregnant lady behind him. The man who had spoken was wearing a white shirt liberally sprinkled with blood. "Everybody just calm down, okay?"
The cop simply stared at him, then seemed to dismiss them and started walking down the path. "Officer." The man in the bloodstained shirt said. "Officer! You do not want to go that way."
"What's that way?" The blonde asked quietly. The man ignored her.
"You do not want to go that way."
"What's that way?" The woman asked again, louder this time. The man looked at her helplessly for a moment.
"It's pretty bad."
"How bad?" Buffy asked suddenly. The man looked at her in surprise – probably at the command in her tone that Xander had gotten used to but sometimes put people off kilter. "How bad?"
"Bad." The man said simply. "Hundreds, probably."
Buffy looked at Giles, her face falling. "Giles, I can't fight hundreds of them. Didn't you find out anything else about this whole thing other than the fact that it started here? A dozen or two would be no problem, but hundreds…"
The man the pregnant woman was clinging to barked a short laugh. "No problem? Girl, you seen those things? I'm still not sure how we managed to get away."
"You know something about this?" The officer asked, turning to Giles. "She said-"
"No, not really." Giles answered before he could finish the thought. He shot a warning look toward the Scoobies. "I suggest we find a safe place and regroup." He was talking to Buffy, but it was the man in the bloodstained shirt who answered him.
"We're going to the mall." He pointed to the fence.
Giles looked at Buffy, who nodded. "How very American." He muttered under his breath.
Willow put her hand on his arm gently as Xander began to follow the others. "You're really okay then, Xander?"
"Sure." Xander offered her a lopsided grin, spreading the torn fabric of his shirt so that she could see his skin, only slight marred by a faint impression of teeth and a tiny trickle of blood. "See? Barely broke the skin. I'll be fine."
"Okay…"
But despite his words, Xander wasn't sure he was going to be fine at all. He'd seen the movies after all, and read the books…well, he'd seen the movies.
And he didn't want to tell Willow he might not be fine at all.
End of Part One
Please review...I am a review junkie! (and let me know about your fanfics too, recommendations for good reading material are always appreciated!)