Title: Dealing With It
Author: Beer Good
Word Count: 400
Fandom: Buffy The Vampire Slayer, post-series
Warning: Character (un)death
Summary: For the zombie_fest ficathon and strina's prompt: Buffy, Xander, "How many freaking kinds of zombies ARE there?"

Dealing With It

"...Well, it depends on the canon. I mean, there's more than one type of zombie."

Buffy rolled her eyes in exasperation, checked the door again and then crouched down beside him. "Fine. So how many freaking kinds of zombies are there?"

"Oh, dozens." Xander gave a nervous laugh as there was another loud crash outside. "I mean, there's your classical Romero-slash-Fulci zombie, basically just a slow animated corpse that eats living flesh and moans a lot. Then you've got the Dan O'Bannon version that runs around screaming for brains, the 28 Days Later type that's not really a zombie at all, and don't let Andrew tell you otherwise... Plus of course the perennial favorites, African Death Mask zombies and reanimated corpses that try to blow up Sunnydale High. Did I ever tell you about those? And then there's -"

"OK, this is getting us nowhere," Buffy interrupted. "We're looking specifically for zombies that don't turn you into one of them if you... if you..."

"You can say it, Buff." His voice was soft, almost drowned out as another loud crash shook the door.

"If you get bitten."

"Yeah. That... that's pretty much a given in most cases. I think there are exceptions, but hey, it's what all the cool kids are doing these days..." He trailed off, and winced as he once again pulled the strap for the eyepatch out of the bitemark on his cheek. His fingers trembled just a little more than they had a few minutes ago. "It's OK. My bad. If I'd just turned the other cheek, I would have seen him coming."

The door shook again as bodies pressed against it, the hinges creaking in harmony with the moans from outside.

"You know..." He nodded at the scythe on the floor. "You could probably fight your way through. All those years dodging vamp fangs, zombies should be a cinch."

"Yeah." She sat down and pulled him close with hands blistered from slaying, careful not to touch the deep gash in his leg. "But I'm not in a hurry."

The noise kept getting louder, the shakes worse.

"Just promise me one thing, OK?"


"Don't get Willow to shove a soul in me. Not that I mind the principle, it's just..." Gasping now. "Y'know, the idea of never again eating anything but pig's brains..."

She forced herself not to glance at the scythe. "You got it."