Disclaimer: Buffy The Vampire Slayer was Created by Joss Whedon and is property of many companies but not me. The Walking Dead was created by Robert Kirkman and the show, which is the world I am referencing in this, is shared with Production Creators Frank Darabont and Angela Kang.

Arthur's Note: Finally feeling like we're into the story.

[3]

The road was full of walkers; fifty, a hundred, five hundred, it didn't matter the number – either way it was too high to stand and fight off and they were nearly at the store below. Eyeing the bodies shuffling forward in the street, Faith didn't stop from her run along the roof tops to leap down, arms out to catch the light post on the way down and use her momentum to swing around and across more than half the distance. Tucking into herself she curled up and rolled onto the sidewalk out front the convenience store, trying to catch a glimpse at the number of people that had caught the dead's attention. All she could see was the back of a dark head, but they weren't facing the doors themselves and by then the first hand was on her shoulder.

She pulled her arm back, elbow catching the dead in the shoulder and knocking it sideways, her opposite hand grabbing the blade from her waist and turning to follow the motion through. Pulling the coagulate coated metal back she watched the body drop against the car parked along the side of the road and she ran around it, closer to the hoard but needing to shore up the survivors defense she moved her hands under the car's body and lifted, bracing her legs and back as it tilted. The vehicle groaned, two tires bearing the weight precariously as it moved to form a 90-degree angle with the road until one last shove from The Slayer sent it flipping over, colliding with part of the dumpster and forcing the trash bin immobile should the building's inhabitants tried to leave.

A line of dead appeared at Faith's side and she jumped onto the undercarriage of the car, climbing up its side and leaping for the ledge of the roof above the store sign. Catching it, she pulled herself up in a move no dead would be able to follow and sat down a minute on gritty surface of the store roof. Behind her the undead swarmed the store front, hands beating the glass on the opposite side of the dumpster but unable to break the thick surface and get inside, where the car leaned against the other half of the store the dead weren't even able to reach the windows, there flesh ripped limbs leaving dark trails on the car's underside. The woman stood, wiping the dirt off her backside and looking for the hatch she knew should lead into the store below.

The hatch didn't stand a chance against her grip and the Slayer was glad she had looked before moving to jump down to the store below as she was met with a dark stare set in a serious face, "That was some work out there," the firm shape of his lips didn't form a smile but she could hear something light in the deep tenor of his voice, "you're The Slayer right?"

Faith dispelled the surprise with a grin, finger gun shooting out from its dusty holster, "Gold star for you," she glanced down where she could see shadows move below, "Does the whole class know or you just the smart guy?"

The man shook his head briefly before gripping the metal lip and pulling himself up in one fluid motion. Standing he was a head taller than her, wide shouldered and broad chested, hand moving up to introduce himself, "Robin Wood."

[Break]

Cold water ran down Tara's face in rivulets, empty hands dipping in the basin to splash herself again, wrists still red with blood when she looked down at them and she scrubbed furiously to remove the red splotches. Catching her reflection, she froze before ripping the stained shirt off, trying to rid herself of last night's horror in the morning light.

They'd thought they were safe inside thick stone walls, magic humming through every inch of the place from foundation to shingle top. Neither the strength of the building nor spell cast protection had prevented Willow from being bit. They couldn't have predicted their sister witch, Edithe, would flinch when it came time to put the undead out of their misery, releasing their hold on the soulless corpse and giving it the opportunity to grab for red head and snatch a pale lower arm in gnashing teeth. Tara had felt her lover's pain across the property, rushing from one end of the building to the other in time to see the undead struck by the culpable party that had allowed it to happen.

Edithe had been ashen, staring at the body in before her when it was finally and fully dead, not acknowledging the bleeding woman at her side. Tara could not thank Goddess enough a few of the other women had picked up on Willow's call and responded as she tried to hold pressure on the wound, fear pounding in her chest and pouring through veins. Since their first subject had been killed quickly by Analise, their family member in the Coven, they'd captured a few of the creatures that had come close their barrier, hanging at the edge when it couldn't push through. Though they'd learned a lot from their subjects they always put them down in the end, one of the other members and Willow and now that arrangement was going to cost Tara everything.
Every person who died turned, and every person bitten did die eventually.

"Cut it off." Willow had been twisting, pale skin getting fairer under the hands as Tara kept hold of the cloth on her arm, trying to comprehend what she was being told when Willow ordered it again, "Please, Tara!" and so she had.

Her reflection stared back at her, dark circles under her eyes seeming to thin her face, and all she felt like was her world was being swallowed up. They didn't know if severing Willow's arm was going to save her, if the disease or virus or whatever it was that caused the change after the bite would be prevented from spreading that way, it was just an assumption. If it didn't… The wiccan rubbed her face, leaving the room to find a new shirt and resume her vigil by her love's side.

[Break]

Pencil twisting between thick fingers, the dark-haired man frowned at his list of supplies, worry gnawing its way through his gut. The influx of provisions first from Dale, then Theodore and Glenn, had been a boon but with each newcomer the food stores had to be dispersed amongst a larger and larger number of people and Shane knew they'd need to do something soon. Looking across the camp he pressed his lips together, refraining from biting down on the writing utensil as he may have once allowed himself to do, it too was a necessary item in short supply these days.

In King County, he'd looked after an entire town but that had been with the assistance of an entire department of other trained men and woman he could count on, even then they were only called to assist when necessary. Out here he was one man in an expanding group of civilians that needed his expertise at all hours, the only moments peace he knew these days were when he allowed himself a few minutes in his friend's arms. Finding Lori amongst the group he was trying to figure out how to provide for, he studied her, assuring himself that she was reflecting a change for the better since their rendezvous.

I need you. The words had been a dream long buried; shoved into the back of his heart when Rick had begun pursuing their friend in college, then locked away when they'd wed, never to be thought on or pondered over, ever. Since the beginning of… this, taking care of her and Carl, he had focused only on them and his promise to his partner, that he would do everything in his power he could to keep them safe. As the weeks had passed, he had never opened that box, and may never have if she hadn't forced it open with a crowbar; shaking fists grasping his shirt, dark eyes bright with emotion as she moved her face up to meet his with those words. Every day since, he had felt a sense of rightness being around her but also an even greater anxiety that he absolutely could not lose her and Carl. He knew he'd done wrong by his friend's memory, betraying not only his longtime friend but his brother on the force for loving his wife, but he would not break that death bed promise. They would survive, and right now that meant ensuring they stayed supplied.

As though sensing his turmoil, Lori turned to look at him, a small smile gracing her features before walking over, hands rubbing the tops of her jeans as she nodded her chin down at his list, "Things looking ok?"

Head shaking, Shane set the clipboard with its list down on the flat rock beside him, standing to keep from taking her hand in his, busying his fingers instead with readjusting the shape of his worn cap, "We're gonna have to make some changes, tighten our rations if we're going to have anything at the end of the week."

Thin brows rose in the whisps of her hair that had escaped her band, glancing around the camp nervously at the insinuation that even if they did ration better at the end of the week they would still be out of food. Lori's arms folded in front of her, fingers grasping onto the lean muscle of each of her opposite arms, "So, we need to look for more food? You really think there's anything nearby?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, replacing the cap over his head and wound up reaching out for one of her belt loops anyway before reminding himself he shouldn't do that and let go, "I don't think we have much of a choice." Watching the concern cross her face he lifted her gaze back to his, finger under the angled point of her chin, "I'll make sure to be careful, you just stay here and watch Carl. I'll let you know before I go, see if Glenn and T-Dawg saw anything that wasn't ransacked before they left town."

The pads of her fingers were soft where they touched his skin, dark brown eyes searching his and he turned his own to her lips, watching as they opened as she breathed in, "Be safe, remember we need you here."

[Break]

Saltwater, Spike could smell Dawn's tears as he broke through the soil, shaking his hair free of dirt even as he looked around to find the young Summers' girl. Concern creeping through him as he didn't find her in the immediate vicinity, but he didn't smell any blood, so he wasn't letting himself panic. Determining he couldn't smell any rotters nearby or sense any living he called out for her.

Within a minute the sound of a throat clearing came from up high, sniffling much quieter before Dawn's travel lamp turned on, light spilling through tree limbs to the forest floor, "Here." Watching her monkey her way down he waited until she stood with both feet on the ground, sleeved wrists quickly wiping off her face before holding out a new note to him, "Willow is bit."

Looking over the script, Spike could tell it was from the other witch right away even without her signature at the bottom, the writing slanted opposite Red's, not to mention flushed out. For the majority the words flowed in consistent straight lines, only when her lettering become shaky did it break.

Dawnie,
I'm sorry we worried you, but I didn't want to write until we knew for sure that things are ok. Willow was bitten not long after she wrote you, but we managed to stop the infection by cutting off her arm. Once they've turned nothing we've tried has any effect in reversing what's happened so we have no more reason to stay here.
I saw sign of Giles yesterday; he and Faith are still at Headquarters and alive. Anya, Xander and the Girls are ok but have moved. Willow says they look to be at the Armory(?) she says you know where.
Please stay safe, we will be there as soon as it's safe for Willow to travel. We love you,
Tara

Folding the message up with its original creases he moved to tuck it into one of the pockets of Dawn's pack, zipping it safely closed as she began speaking with her back still to him, "I was thinking, without them," her pack shifted as she moved her hand to her face in a motion he couldn't see until she'd turned around, "we wouldn't know anything. We'd be alone, all of us."

The Brit moved an arm around her shoulder, turning them back to the road to start their walk rather than let her continue where her thoughts may lead, "Best not to let yourself brood on could be, love. Too many hours ahead to start now." The walk from King County to Atlanta was nearly 15 hours made continuously in a straight course during good conditions and the current apocalypse was certainly not good conditions. Factoring in the ability to travel only at night so they could stay together, it was closer to 5 days, 4 of which had already passed since their hospital visit.

Spike had finished the last of the blood they'd had when he arose the night before, the packs thawing once the dry ice had evaporated after the first day in the small cooler, lasting only the second night due to be being buried with him. Taking them hadn't been necessary, but he'd wanted to gorge himself after such a time since his last meal and before he was forced to follow the poofter's dietary regiment of animal blood. In the city, just he and Dawn, he had gone through his stock a few days before Willow's note to go to the CDC and he had started to worry about the hunger that had started in on him before she'd outlined her plan to stock up before they hit the road. That first bag he'd happily tore open cold and swallowed the next 2 without a thought before disposing of them.

Beside him, Dawn nodded, the earlier lamp already doused to preserve its battery and prevent any undue attention, "We need to talk about when we get there." Walking this close, he knew she could see his questioning look as she continued, "Places like the CDC, a lot of them have protocols to follow to make sure they limit exposure to their own people. If they do, and you can't follow me-"

Knowing a self-sacrificing speech when he heard the start of one he bumped her shoulder, "You'll go in." He looked ahead, the road as clear as if it were lit by streetlights though all that guided them were the stars, "and I'll wait on Red and Tara's arrival, can't imagine they're going to pop in inside a government facility even now."

[Break]