~Surprise. Remember when I finished Slivers of Hope and talked about wanting to do a sequel? Well, here's where it starts. All of the love and positive feedback from everyone who read my first fic has motivated me to do it again! I couldn't just leave this world and these characters hanging; they've just become too much fun to just forget, and I really hope you all feel the same!

Just as a word of warning though, this is really my first time writing a fan fiction that didn't already have a base within canon, and while I have a pretty good idea of what I want to happen in this, it will most likely be a very slow process. But, if any of you out there would be willing to help, we could make this go a lot smoother! I'm in search of a Beta reader, or at least someone I could bounce ideas off of! If you would be interested, shoot me a message, I could really use a hand making this fic a reality! Thanks for all of the support so far and I hope you enjoy this first chapter of Slivers of Hope: Second Apocalypse!

Amidst the smoldering ruins of Earth, Humanity awoke. They picked themselves off the pavement, blinking blearily at a world that they barely recognized. It was a world ravaged and torn, turned to ash by monsters once thought to be only myth. Frightened, Humanity huddled together in what bastions they could find, holding against the demons that prowled the land still, left without direction as the corpses of their generals slowly rotted away in their forsaken citadels.

Desperate weeks turned to determined months of gathering resources and allies, pushing back against the beasts that tried still to take back the world they had once conquered. Humanity proved adaptable however, and the hosts of Hell found them firmly entrenched back in their cities, dug in like the roots of a particularly stubborn flower.

The demons were surprised by their persistence. As were the four horsemen who watched over the shattered world from the backs of their unearthly steeds. Since the fall of the Destroyer they had remained in the Third Kingdom, methodically hunting down the remnants of the Red Army they came across in search of greater prey. True, the generals were no more, but their ultimate commander had yet to show his face. So long as he lingered, Humanity was still in peril. Despite their ingenuity and tenacity, mere mortals could never hope to hold against the true might of Hell.

Atop a hill, the four gazed upon the bloody glow of the construction slowly rising from the blighted earth, swarmed over by demons that built it ever higher. For some days they had come across many such structures. Something was brewing beyond the horizon, and it couldn't be said if Humanity could survive another Apocalypse.

One of the horseman, a slender feminine form astride a huge black horse, shifted in her saddle. "Should we go and tell her?" she asked, never taking her eyes off the stream of demons down below.

A second answered her with a raspy sigh. His horse, an enormous half-rotted creature of bone and mottled flesh, shifted uneasily beneath him. "Yes, I suppose we should," he replied.

"Must we?" the third asked, voice tinny and skeptical behind the slits of a helm. "I don't see a reason why we need to involve her further."

The second snorted derisively and shot his companion a look over an ash colored shoulder. "Regardless of your personal feelings humanity must be warned of the coming storm. And I can think of no one better to pass along the message."

The third huffed but said no more, which the second was content to take as a begrudging agreement.

The fourth, who until then had remained silent, gave a grunt and steered his huge steed around to descend the opposite side of the hill. The beast's hooves seared black prints into the parched grass. "Either way, there's no point in staying here," he said gruffly. "If we're not moving we're wasting time."

The first watched him go with a gentle shake of her head. "Ah, just like old times," she sighed with mock wistfulness before she kicked her heels into her steed's sides and followed after him.

The second chuckled and tugged on his own reins. "Isn't it though?" he said, leading his horse after his companions.

The third lingered for a moment longer. No one was close enough to see him role his eyes behind his visor, or to hear him mutter, "Why do I even bother?" before he too turned his horse and left the demons to their work.

Dawn was just beginning peak over the horizon and chase the stars away. No one was awake to see the four massive, monstrous horses being led down the street by their equally terrifying riders.

Death led the way past the little cobbled-together houses that lined the streets, searching for the one that belonged to the horsemens' one time human companion. Hope's home wasn't too hard to find however; it was the only little matchbox house being guarded by a small murder of crows. The black birds sat in a nearby tree and stared down with beady, watchful eyes. One let out a warning call as the four dismounted and came forward. Dust, the big mangy crow perched on one of Death's shoulders, answered back with a raspy croak. The birds, recognizing a fellow, settled back and ruffled their feathers. A couple of them took off from their perches and fluttered to a window sill, tapping on the glass with their beaks.

Death took this as approval and made his way to the front door, gave it a light wrap with his knuckles, and stood back to wait. It took a few minutes, wherein he could hear the faint sounds of movement and muffled cursing from beyond the flimsy wooden door, but eventually it opened a crack, a bleary blue eye peaking wearily out from inside the house. It widened briefly at the sight of the horsemen before its owner let out a sharp sigh and the door was pulled the rest of the way open.

Hope, standing in rumpled pajamas, one hand around the handle of an aluminum baseball bat and the other roughly rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Jesus, I really hoped the crows were kidding," she mumbled, running a hand through her sleep-tousled hair. She shot Death a tired glare. "You do know that it's like, four in the morning, right?"

"Well, good morning to you too, Sunshine," Strife called from further back. Hope sneered at him, but Death interrupted before it could turn into their usual bout of insults.

"Would you rather we come strolling down the street in broad daylight for everyone to see?" Death asked back, hands on his hips.

Hope blinked sluggishly up at him a couple times. "Yeah, okay, fair point," she conceded. "But for God's sake, get in here before someone does see you."

Death watched her shuffle back into her tiny home, stretching as she yawned. She'd changed since last he saw her; compared to the frightened, twitchy, filthy Hope he'd met all those years ago, this Hope looked as though she actually took care of herself, maybe took a shower once in a while and stopped cutting her own hair with a dull knife. She'd even put on some muscle, stretching and flexing across her back and shoulders as she reached her arms over her head. Dust fluttered over to her shoulder and was greeted with a few exasperated scratches.

"Good to see you too Dust," she said, leaning against the small countertop of her tiny kitchen as the Horsemen filed in, looking comically enormous in the confines of her living room.

"I'd offer to make you guys some coffee but I haven't been able to get my hands on any for a few months. Which is a pity because god could I use some-" She was cut off by a loud screeching sound as War forced himself through the door, the sharp edges of his armor scrapping deep grooves into the wood. Hope visibly winced and opened her mouth to snap at him, but upon catching War's flat, pale glare, as though just daring her to say something, she clenched her jaw and wisely held her tongue. "But I'm guessing you didn't just come to chat," she said instead.

Strife scoffed from where he had settled into one of her ratty sofas, his feet up on the coffee table. "As though you'd be worth the effort."

"Oh, I'm sorry Strife, I didn't mean to accuse you of something like common decency," she spat back just as quickly. Strife's eyes narrowed behind his visor, but once again Death stepped in to keep the two of them from going at it.

"Yes, I'm afraid this is far from a simple friendly visit," he said, folding his arms across his chest and fixing Hope with a steady gaze.

"We've come to warn you," Fury added from Death's side.

"Warn me?" Hope echoed. "About what?"

"The Horde is moving," said War, "Rebuilding their citadels from which they'll launch their final assaults to take back what humanity took from them."

Hope went very still. "...What?" she asked in a small voice.

"We believe they're trying to reestablish a chain of command," Death continued for his brother. "War tore down their previous generals and demons aren't good for much without a greater mind behind them. It seems as though they're finally ready to move again."

"Than why haven't you gone after them yet?" she growled, knuckles turning white as she dug her nails into the back of the sofa.

"Because they aren't here yet," Strife said. "The little ones don't count in this case. We have to wait for the head to show itself before we can cut it off."

"And we will have to cut it off," Fury added. "Simply stopping them from coming won't deter them for long. The Horde needs to be dismantled before it will stop."

"Shit," Hope muttered, unclenching her fingers to start picking nervously at her nails. She still had yet to kick the habit apparently. "Just when I thought... shit." She curled her hands into fists and forced herself to take a deep breath. "So, what happens now?"

"Now we go to war and you spread the word for everyone to batten down the hatches," Fury replied.

"Me? Why me?"

"Because," Death answered, "it stands to reason that humans would be much more inclined to listen to one of their own than they would to us."

Hope sighed, rubbing at her forehead. "Yeah, alright, I can buy that. Still, getting to word out to everyone isn't going to be easy."

"And why is that?"

"Because we're sort of everywhere? And global communication isn't really a thing anymore. The best we have are radio towers and the range on those aren't very good. Look," she moved over to an overstuffed bookcase, rifling through loose papers and tattered books before she found what she was looking for. Pulling out a small square of paper she set about unfolding it, again and again until it was three feet long and nearly as tall. She crossed over to the coffee table.

"Move, jackass," she growled, planting her foot against Strife's stacked ankles and roughly shoving to get his boots off the tabletop. She ignored any comeback he would have thrown her way and slammed the paper onto the table, now revealed as a huge weathered map, the ink worn away in the creases. It was clustered with dots of varying sizes, all connected by lines representing what had once been major roads. There were also circles drawn in red pen in various places, accompanied by scrawlings of numbers and words.

"We're here," she said, pointing to a large cluster in the northeastern corner of the map, "and allllll of these," she spread her fingers over the smaller red circles scattered across the landscape for miles, "are Safe Houses. They're like refugee camps. It's dangerous for people to move into the cities from the country so these have been set up everywhere to give people a safe place to hunker down. But if something's big is gonna happen out there, they won't be safe for long. They're built to stand up to a few demons but there's no way they're last against an entire invasion. They need to be warned so they can get out of the line of fire."

"What would that entail?" Fury asked, leaning in to study the map.

"Time, mostly," Hope replied. "And a clear path out to the cities if possible. It'll be tough trying to convince everyone to leave and go somewhere safer, but like hell am I going to let them stay and get slaughtered."

"You speak like you're going to convince them yourself," Strife quipped.

"That's because I am," she said, slowly as though explaining it to a child.

"I don't think that's-" Death began but Hope cut him off with a raised hand.

"Didn't you just say that I was the one you were trusting with this?"

She took the answering snort as a 'yes'.

"Right, so, you can trust me when I say that this'll be the best way to do it. They have to hear it from me because no one else knows what I know."

Death hated to admit it, but she was right. Anyone could claim to have been audience to the breadth of the conflict that destroyed their world, but Hope had gotten out of her seat and poked around behind the curtain. If they didn't believe her they were at best in denial and at worst suicidal.

"It will be dangerous... moreso than anything you experienced the first time," he told her.

"Than I guess its a good thing that I've got four giant harbingers of death and destruction to give me a leg up," she said, crossing her arms and meeting his gaze quite evenly.

"You can't be serious," Strife drawled, and Hope pinned him with a disdainful glare.

"Can't I?" she snapped. "How else am I supposed to get where I need to go? I wouldn't be able to hold my own out there for long, never mind trying to clear the way for people to get out. Look, I just need to get from one place to the next without dying, and the four of you can cause as much carnage as you want along the way."

War's face twitched in something that could almost be called a smirk. "Carnage will come aplenty once the demons catch on to our plan. You're pitting yourself against all the forces of Hell," he said.

Hope gave him a grim smile. "Let 'em try. I've got a hundred year's worth of pent-up rage for them. I want to see 'em bleed."

The great red cowl dipped in the most imperceptible of impressed nods. "And bleed they shall," he told her. "Their punishment is a long time coming."

Once again Death found himself ever so slightly baffled. For Hope and War to have found kindred spirits within each other was both astounding and strangely understandable. If his youngest brother was content to share his revenge with a young human woman, than who was he to argue? Not as though either of them would listen anyway.

"When can you leave?" Fury asked, clearly coming to the same conclusion. Hope settled back, tapping a finger against her arm.

"Give me 24 hours to get my shit together; there are a few things I have to do first. Come back same time tomorrow and I'll be ready," she said.

"It's a plan then," Death said, striding over and placing a hand on her shoulder, "so long as you're sure this is what you want. There is no shame in staying here."

She looked him square in the eye and he knew even before she spoke that she had made up her mind. "I'm sure," she said firmly. Death gave a small nod.

"So be it then. 24 hours. Then, the hunt begins."

Once the Horsemen were gone (after a another brief argument between War's armor and the door frame that the door frame lost by a wide margin) Hope let out a shaky breath, sinking slowly into the cushions of the sofa. Once again she could feel the world being yanked out from beneath her feet. But, she reminded herself, this time it would be under her terms.

The thought of sitting back and letting her home be taken from her a second time made her blood boil. Not again. Never again. Even without the Horsemen she would have fought tooth and nail, until she couldn't fight anymore, to protect what tentative safety humanity had won back.

It didn't make her decision any less daunting. She knew War was right, that every spawn of the Pit would try and stand in her way and that she amounted to little more than a pest in their eyes. She was, as she had always been, only human.

But she was a human who had lived through one apocalypse and damn if she didn't feel like living through another.

The following 24 hours were a whirlwind of preparations that passed far faster than Hope liked. The first part of it was spent futilely trying to sleep, for she knew that chances to rest would soon be few and far between, but found her mind buzzing with too many thoughts to relax. Instead she'd used the quiet hours before dawn to all but ransack her own house, gathering what provisions and equipment she thought she would need. She'd given more thought to this over the years than she wanted to admit, but her own paranoia had refused to settle until she'd stocked up on enough dry goods to last her the next ten years. The pile of stuff grew and shrank as she considered what she'd realistically be able to carry by herself, and it took a good while for her to convince herself that she'd have to rely on being able to resupply at the Safe Houses as she came across them.

The daylight hours saw Hope hitting the pavement. She tracked down a few people she knew from the construction team she'd worked for over the years, told them in vague terms that she was leaving and was unlikely to come back anytime soon.

"Hope, I know it hasn't been easy for you these past few years," her friend Jodie said desperately, "but whatever you're trying to do can't be worth it." Her concern coaxed a bittersweet smile from Hope's face. Jodie had been a chemical engineer before the apocalypse and had been the forerunner in local efforts to procure clean water. She'd also cobbled together a micro-brewery in her basement and let Hope be her taste-tester. They'd made out once while drunk on home-brewed beer, and though Jodie turned her down after that they'd remained close friends. Hope knew she'd never forgive herself if she left without telling her.

"You've gotta trust me on this," Hope told her. "Please believe me when I say I know what I'm doing. And I will come back, okay? And when I do, things will be different." That, at least, was something she could promise; whether or not the Horsemen succeeded, things would be changing, for better or worse.

Jodie wrapped her up in a tight hug that she tried to savor. Friendly human contact was something else she'd be leaving behind. Later, as she passed Jodie's place on Despair's back she whispered to the crows to keep an eye on it, just in case.

After that she dropped by the nearest Swap Market loaded down with cans and boxes for bartering. With paper money now good only for lighting fires, it was the stuff of survival that drove a shaky economy. Hope wasn't overly fond of crowds, but there was something about the Swap Markets that was comforting. Here was a place that humanity thrived; voices and laughter and music from well-loved instruments were a loud reminder that people were still holding on.

Hope flitted between the stalls that filled the long-abandoned halls and store fronts of the defunct shopping mall and took it all in. Most hawked the necessities, food, clothing, medicine, while others offered the simple yet precious luxuries that had become so hard to find. One stall was filled end to end with stacks of books, though it was hard to tell just how many there were through the press of people all trying to talk to the clerk. Another spilled over with knit hats and scarves in bright colors and was manned by a woman diligently crocheting another stuffed animal to add the menagerie covering the table. Yet another was making a killing melting down coins and jewelry to make tools. Throughout it all wandered people from all walks of life, every age and race, carrying baskets and boxes and children and just trying to get by.

These were the people she was doing this for. This was the community she wanted to protect. With that in mind she could stride past the colorful displays and into one of the less frequented areas of the market that specialized in a different kind of survival. Most of her excess supplies she traded for things she would need; ammunition for her rifle, a pack of flares, a pair of sturdy boots, batteries of two different kinds, and a couple grenades. No one asked questions and Hope gave no answers.

As she made to leave, spoils bundled up in her arms, she stopped on a whim at the crocheting woman's stall and traded her last couple food cans for a red knit cap, just in case. The wool was scratchy, but the inside was lined and as she pulled it down over her ears she couldn't help but be reminded of the hats her mother would knit for her nearly every winter.

The memory perhaps made her last errand a little harder. Standing outside her parents' home, hand poised to knock, she wondered if this was really something she should subject them to. She'd been in a rough place for a while before she left home; haunted by nightmares and traumatic responses that made it hard for her to even go outside, let alone to talk about it. They knew the story up to a point, that she'd survived for a while after everyone else, but for everything after that... there was no way she could tell them more. Not about the angels, or the Rod, or the Crowfather, and certainly not about the Horsemen. Maybe one day, if they all survived, she could. Until then, the very least she owed them was a warning.

With that firmly in mind she took a breath and knocked on the door. The waiting dragged on long enough that she managed to half convince herself that no one is home and that she should leave before things got awkward. She turned, feeling her nerve giving out, but a series of arhythmic thumps from beyond the door made her pause. Dad's home, she thought to herself even as the door opened to reveal a man, younger than the salt-and-pepper hair and the cane suggested, looking out with a bewildered smile.

"Hey kiddo. Long time, no see," he said.

Hope cracked a smile and let her father pull her into a one armed hug. "Hi Dad," she replied. "Mom around?"

"Just missed her. If you'd given us a little warning that you'd be coming she would have stuck around."

"Sorry," she said, following behind at a leisurely pace to keep up with his limping gait. "Would have given you word if I had the time."

"I'm guessing you've got something going on?" he asked, settling into the couch cushions with her beside him.

"Something like that, yeah."

"You actually going to let us in on it?"

Hope bit her lip.

"...Not this time dad. There are demons involved and I don't want you or mom getting hurt..." she trailed off, suddenly unwilling to look him in the eye. Her gaze wandered to her father's left leg, where the cuff of his jeans wasn't quite long enough to cover the ankle of his prosthetic. "...This isn't a battle that you should have to fight," she quietly added.

He was silent for a long time, and Hope knew without looking the stern expression he was giving her. "...You shouldn't have to either," he said eventually. She opened her mouth to argue, but he kept going. "Hope, I know that there's a part of you that feels like it needs to fight, because I probably gave it to you in the first place," he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, "but you don't have to. Let the people with bigger guns be the ones to go around killing demons."

Hope stifled an amused snort. "I've got some friends with some really big guns dad."

"So why do they need you?"

"Because they suck at most things that don't involve mass destruction," she answered, and this time the snort slipped out. She looked at her father and gave him a crooked smile. "They'll take good care of me dad, don't worry. I'm doing this because I want to, and because I know that I can actually do something this time."

He heaved a small sigh, but returned the smile. "There's no talking you out of this, is there?" He asked.

"No, not on this," she answered.

"Well when you get back- and you are coming back, young lady, or so help me I will go out into the wasteland myself to come get you- you'll just have to make it up to me," he said with a playful nudge. "How about you introduce me and your mother to your friends with the big guns?"

The idea of the Horsemen meeting her parents was... a hard one to parse. How would something like that even go? She could only imagine it being incredibly awkward and ending with her father making an impulsive dad-joke. The thought made her insides squirm with preemptive embarrassment, and Hope gave a nervous laugh. "Yeah dad, we'll uh... we'll see about that."

"I'll hold you to that, kiddo." Slapping his knees, he got to his feet and Hope made to follow. "Now, is there anything you need before you go?"

"Just for you and mom to promise to keep your heads down," she said. "And maybe to spread the word too. Don't know if anyone will believe you, but it'd help if you tried."

"We'll make sure to sound the alarm," he replied before crossing his arms and giving her a look so filled with paternal concern that it sent Hope right back to when she was 6 years old and leaving for her first day of grade school. "But c'mon Hope, is there anything I can do for you?"

She thought for just a moment before answering. "Well," she said, "there is one thing I'd like..."

The hours crept past, the sun setting and just beginning to rise again before finally Hope felt herself ready. In the soft light of dawn she shut off all of her lights, cast one last lingering glance around the little place she called home, and locked the door behind her. Pulling her father's army jacket tight around her body, she sat down on the steps of her porch and waited for the Horsemen of the Apocalypse to arrive.