No Rest for the Wicked
By Olympus -117
Disclaimer: Joss owns all things Buffy. I'm just meddling my unworthy hands in his greatness.
It was getting colder. The little old lady crouched behind a large old, cracked tombstone and slowly looked over the top, peering into the stygian gloom. In the faint moonlight, every tombstone, statue and gnarled tree in the old cemetery seemed to become darker and more sinister.
Everywhere shadows shifted and formed terrifying shapes; overhanging branches looked like jagged claws that hovered menacingly in the air, the stone statues of angels praying atop the marble mausoleums began to look more and more like laughing demons. The very air seemed too bitter for a regular summer's night and a thin layer of fog had crept in, and it twisted and snaked its way around the graves like it was possessed with a life of its own.
It all added to the nagging suspicion in Buffy's mind that this cemetery was not at all normal. But then again, not much about Buffy was normal either.
From the pocket of her worn, once-white-but-now-light-grey jacket, Buffy pulled out a thick, wooden stake, carefully sharpened to perfection and grasped it point-down. With the practiced air of someone who'd done this many times before, she stood up and marched into the middle of the empty cemetery. Technically though, the cemetery was not actually empty; devoid of living beings would be closer to the truth.
She swept aside her mane of blonde hair, streaked with lines of grey and her serious green eyes, wrinkles beginning to show under them; scanned the eerie landscape slowly, not missing a single detail.
Suddenly-there! Out the corner of her eye: a swish of a robe, a fleeting shadow, slipping quickly though the gravestones, too quickly to be physically possible. It was, Buffy thought, nothing remotely human. As it happened, she was only too right. The slayer ducked back down behind another gravestone to avoid being spotted, but when she peered over again, the shadow had gone. Buffy frowned.
"Damn," she whispered. It was out there all right, and now it probably knew she was here as well.
Not a problem, she thought smugly, now, if only it would come a bit closer . . . Buffy fingered her stake fondly, this was an old one; it had seen her through many a fight in her younger years and it had yet to find a vampire that it couldn't dust. Now speaking of vampires, Buffy chanced another glance over the gravestone; it shouldn't have gotten too far away -
A sharp crack of a boot stepping on a twig and then a small theatrical cough behind her, Buffy froze, heart hammering wildly in her chest. "You're right behind me, aren't you?"
"Your skills at perception never fail to amaze, slayer," the mocking feminine reply drawled, the voice putting more emphasis on the last word. "Tsk, tsk, really," the unseen voice continued, dripping with mock sympathy. "Age must be getting to you." Buffy frowned, she wasn't that old. Sixty was the new forty after all.
"That's too bad," she said coolly, bringing her stake closer to her chest and tensing her calves, preparing to jump. She was like a coiled spring, ready to lash out at a second's notice, albeit a coiled spring with a very pointy, very deadly stick attached to the end.
"Because you know what? I think you missed something," Buffy said, still facing away from the vampire. She could sense it, only a few feet away, her enhanced slayer senses hadn't dulled over the years, she could practically smell the undead vamp. And make no mistake, it stank like a sewer. This one obviously hadn't heard of what a bathroom was.
"And what would that be, oh mighty slayer?" Again with the mocking tone. Buffy gritted her teeth; this one was a smart-arse all right. Cocky, overconfident, a vampire – not reminding her of anyone in particular of course. . .
"See, old as I am," Buffy began, "I think you missed the all important fact that my staking is still perfect!" With this, Buffy shouted out as she somersaulted backwards and bought the sharpened piece of wood up, twisting and driving it into the very surprised vampire behind her. The vampire just had enough time for a look of horror on her feline face that she had been bested by a human, and an old lady at that, before she exploded into grey dust.
Buffy landed in a crouch, breathing hard. Adrenaline surged through her entire body, making her feel alive again. She should have done this years ago, it was damn good to be back. She bent down, cursing as a joint in her back popped, and picked up her fallen stake from the ground where she had dropped it, brushing her jacket to get the remains of the vampire dust off her.
No doubt when her children heard about her little night time "escapades" they would absolutely freak out, and that wasn't even mentioning Willow who would for sure, proceed to give her a half-hour lecture on setting a good example for her grandchildren. And Angel? Well, he would just brood. But honestly, what was life without a little fun?
Buffy turned to go, heading back towards the wrought iron gates that led into the Florida cemetery, but no sooner had she taken a few steps when the ground beside her shuddered and a decaying hand erupted out of the earth like some grotesque flower. It was rapidly followed by a head, torso and legs. Within a few seconds, a zombie, complete with live maggots, had clambered out of the ground and was staring at Buffy with a hungry gleam in its empty sockets.
Buffy gave an exasperated sigh, a zombie? Really? She had only gone out to alleviate her boredom and dust a couple of vamps but this was quickly turning out to be messier than she anticipated. Especially since she didn't think to bring any knives and only had her stake.
The slayer was preparing to dispose of the undead corpse when the earth around her began to shudder and shake and a dozen more zombies exploded out of their respective graves, raining dirt from holes in their flesh, and began to surround her, all the time moaning and groaning and generally carrying on as the undead were prone to doing. Show offs, Buffy thought, the lot of them.
Buffy rolled her eyes to heaven. "Figures," she muttered before raising her stake and turning to face the animated corpses surrounding her.
"Well!" she said as she spread her arms out and gave the zombie's a cheery smile - albeit with false teeth. "Isn't this sweet, a welcoming committee." Buffy wrinkled her nose, "Mind you, I leave you people alone for a few years and look what happens!" She gestured to one of the undead's tattered clothes and the maggots wriggling from its eyes, "Not a good look buddy," she advised him, "Maybe some moisturising cream?" she asked hopefully.
The zombie stared back at her blankly. Buffy shrugged, they were never very talkative anyway. "Just trying to ease up the tension, you lot are so serious you know . . ." she trailed off as several of the zombies moved behind her and blocked the gates, cutting off her last exit.
As if she was planning on running.
The little old lady grinned, crouching slightly and readying her stake as the undead horde as one, growled and moved in for the kill.
This was going to be a very interesting night. Buffy just hoped her teeth didn't fall out.
(The zombie horde didn't know what hit them. Little old lady? Yeah, right.)
Thank you for reading! Please leave a review and tell me what you think! Constructive Criticism is very much appreciated. :)