The solitude of patrolling the quiet streets of Sunnydale brought with it a lulling sense of serenity. Often times this serenity would be punctuated by a brief encounter then requisite slaying of a vampire. So went many of Buffy's adolescent evenings. Evenings that could have been put to much more applicable uses like socializing, shopping, or even, gasp, homework.
This particular night seemed to offer an extra dose of serenity with very little punctuation. Buffy's mind grew tired of the boredom of strolling the empty streets of the unwitting center of demonic activity that was Sunnydale. Heading home and retiring for the night was an increasingly seductive course of action.
"Oh, the graveyard!" Buffy said aloud. How could she have made such an oversight? With a task to accomplish the boredom of idle wandering went quickly out of mind. Buffy renewed the spring in her step and made progress toward her morbid destination.
A brisk jaunt later and the only thing between Buffy and the Sunnydale graveyard were two dark, shadowy figures. Buffy had quite a few experiences with such dark, shadowy figures and remained perfectly calm as she began to stalk her prey. As she ducked behind some convenient foliage she somehow knew that what was before her was not a brace of vampires, but something else. The two figures were soon complimented by another duet of late night prowlers.
"Matt and Stacey?" Buffy whispered to herself as she realized the identity of the two additions. They weren't exactly as she remembered them. They staggered about like drunks and looked as if they had been run over by a tractor trailer one too many times. Buffy watched intently.
"Your zombies are a disgrace to your calling," said the younger of the two strangers. As well as being shorter in the tooth this individual seemed to be more animated and present.
"How so?" coldly barked the older figure. This stranger was more withdrawn, less animated, and stood as if he had a broomstick up his backside.
"Oh, I don't know, let's see," sarcastically replied the youthful individual, "For one this is about the tenth time we've had to stop to let them catch up."
"We're in no hurry," blankly interrupted his senior.
"They walk as though they're rag dolls," added the more juvenile figure.
"They ambulate sufficiently," factually stated the more matured of the two.
"They are moaning for God's sakes!" said his youthful companion with exaggerated exclamation.
The stranger of an earlier vintage stared back quietly at first and gave no reply.
Finally he questioned, "God?"
"It's a figure of speech," somberly explained the younger of the two as his eyes drifted onto the ground. After a brief pause he looked back up.
"Why don't you release them and I'll animate them instead," he suggested. His counterpart appeared quite offended.
"How dare you insult me, your tutor," chastised the older of the two.
"The same way you dare irritate me, by far your superior," came back the juvenile.
Proverbial chest thumping ensued as the two faced each other in a posturing match. As the older stranger's face grew more stern his younger comrade's fists clenched. His closed hands seemed to burn with fire and a terrible screeching, flaming noise came from them.
"You wouldn't smite me down with the very hellfire I taught you to summon," obtusely said the elder stranger.
"And I thought my family had issues," Buffy whispered to herself.
"Wouldn't I?" said the adolescent mockingly while the look of his demeanor seemed to mimic the angry flames he held in his fists. The older one conceded by ending the posturing match and turning away.
"Make no mistake, the only reason you were sent to this world was because of me your apprentice. I am the greatest necromancer alive, you are merely an old fart. As far as I am concerned I am the one in charge here," berated the younger of the two. His expressionless mentor looked straight ahead.
Seemingly forgetting his original suggestion the more youthful stranger led the way toward the graveyard with the older individual and his stumbling zombies in tow. Buffy shadowed the late night expedition with peaked curiosity.
As Buffy came within view of the graveyard proper, evidence of the robbery Giles had told of earlier was quite plain. A taped off section of the graveyard had every other grave or so missing its occupant.
"How many more zombies do we need to complete the lair?" questioned the adolescent stranger as he tore apart the police tape in front of him.
"At least two dozen if we are to finish the lair on time," replied the older of the two as if he was issuing a challenge.
"Easily done," arrogantly stated the younger individual, "Watch very carefully. Perhaps you'll learn something." The other dark figure looked on with interest.
That being said the juvenile stepped forward and stood as if he had owned the ground he tread on since birth. He let out a deep breath into the chill of the night's air and bowed his head quietly. With a full voice this stranger began to speak an incantation in a language that Buffy couldn't begin to identify. Gradually another voice accompanied the phrases he spoke. It was a powerful, booming roar that seemed to come upon the scene from all directions. Soon the young stranger's voice couldn't be heard as the unearthly cry dominated the scene instead.
As the mysterious words continued to flow the young stranger's pale complexion heightened until his face was so white it glowed in the darkness. His eyes looked locked in an intense struggle to see what was not there. To Buffy's intrigue the stranger was suddenly engulfed in the same fire he had brought forth in his fists earlier. The flames seemed to mimic faces and people in contorted, painful expressions and positions. A horrible shriek of suffering emanated from the flames and dominated even the booming voice.
When the hellish fire had expanded to what seemed to be the limit of its capacity it leapt from the stranger's body. The flames danced from grave to grave in a macabre fashion crying out as they went. Quickly the fire disappeared into the solemn earth and silence came upon the scene louder the grand noise before it. The youthful stranger stood motionless in a hunched posture. He breathed heavily as if he had just run a marathon. After a few moments of awkward quiet the older individual finally spoke.
"Now what?" where his simple words.
"Now I suggest you and your pathetic examples of the undead start digging up my new zombies," came the adolescent's reply. He turned to leave, but was stopped by the objection of his older companion.
Buffy didn't bother to listen to the words of the complaint. She hurriedly made her way out of the immediate vicinity of the Sunnydale graveyard. There was always one person a Slayer could turn to when she needed explanations: her Watcher. She certainly had a story to tell.
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