Braaaaiiiiiiinnnnnsss (Or Lack Thereof)
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Well, that's not strictly true. I just own nothing relating to Reaper or Buffy.
No particular spoilers, for a change.
The zombies were starting to thin out, finally. With four slayers, a one-eyed watcher who could wield a mean battleaxe, and the occasional fireball from herself working to decrease their numbers, the remainder wouldn't last long. Unfortunately, this did not relieve Dawn as much as she had hoped it would. Because now, their patrol had almost reached the mausoleum that seemed to be the epicenter of tonight's wigginess. And she had no clue what was inside. At least with the Mask of Ovu Mobani back in Sunnydale, there had been enough time to research and figure out what was causing the zombies to rise and, more importantly, how to put a stop to it. This time, though, they had only just stumbled onto the horde of almost depressingly slow and slow-witted undead. And she, as the only magic user in the group, was most likely going to have to engage whatever necromancer or enchanted item was raising them without any idea of what she was getting into. Great.
As they neared the mausoleum, even Dawn's non-enhanced senses could pick up the sounds of fighting and the occasional girlish scream coming from the other side of the tomb. Suddenly, she felt a surge of power that felt... strange, different from any magic she had felt before. As if they were puppets with their strings cut, the undead around them collapsed, clearly now back among the un-undead. Still warily eying the various corpses around them, the slayers, Xander, and Dawn moved quickly to the entrance of the mausoleum.
Only to find that someone had beaten them to the punch.
There were three guys standing just in front of the entrance, visibly worse for wear from their encounter with the zombies. The one on the left appeared to be wielding a two-by-four and had been grinning despite the quickly coloring bruise on his face until he had noticed Dawn and the others arrive. The bruise, oddly enough, seemed consistent with the tire iron (nice choice, for an amateur) being held, along with an ornate crucifix (stupid choice, even for an amateur) by the slightly sheepish looking skinnier guy on the right. In the middle, his mouth moving but failing to produce any intelligible sounds, was a guy holding... was that a teapot
? All three were about as covered in assorted zombie parts, and while the one on the right seemed thoroughly grossed out, all three seemed... almost normal about it. Interesting.
Also, the teapot was glowing slightly, and giving off smoke. Dawn wasn't sure what that meant, but it probably wasn't good.
"Care to tell us what that teapot has to do with the zombies that were just everywhere?" Dawn asked.
The three looked at each other, obviously trying (and failing) to come up with an explanation. Finally, the one in the middle, whose mouth had been continuing to move without forming any real words, finally spoke up. Sort of.
"It's... there was... zombies... evil... mortician guy... covered up mob hits... escaped from hell... and Zombies! and... vessel," he finished, vaguely indicating the bit of china in his hands.
Dawn was at a loss for words. She was really out of practice when it came to fieldwork, as she had spent the last couple apocalypses working as research girl back at Watchers HQ, so she had no idea how to deal with other hunting groups one met on patrol, let alone one so obviously out of their depth. What the hell were they doing out in the middle of all this, anyways? 'Well,' Dawn thought, 'at least Xander's here. After Africa and everything, he must be used to dealing with first encounters with groups of-'
"So..." Xander piped up from behind her, his voice breaking the awkward silence that had fallen. She could here the goofball grin on his face without bothering to turn around. "... Come here often?"
Dawn dragged a hand over her face and sighed. This was going to be a very, very long night.
The next morning, an irate Sam Oliver stormed up to the window at the DMV.
"Place the vessel on the-"
"Why did no one bother to tell me about vampires
?" Sam interrupted, hissing the final word sotto voce
before slamming the teapot down on the mat. "Did no one think that was information that, I don't know, might be useful for someone who runs around, mostly at night
, searching for escapees from Hell
Gladys merely glared back at Sam, while placing the vessel in the tube to send it back to the underworld. "I don't know, maybe because the Boss figured you and your friends would hide in your closets like little girls and refuse to do your job at night."
"But we all could have been killed!"
"Knowing you three, I'm surprised it hasn't happened already. By the way, I can smell that garlic around your neck from here."
Sam's look of indignation shifted into a hopeful smile. "That'll work, right?"
Gladys pulled the mat back into place and scoffed. "No. Idiot. NEXT!"
A/N: Back to back days! The wonders of actually having free time in which to write. Hope to have chapter 2 of Succubus polished off by the end of the weekend.