DISCLAIMER!!!! Buffy, Giles, Xander, Willow, and all the characters, from "Buffy theVampire Slayer" aren't mine. They belong to Joss and Mutant Enemy. I'm jealous, but what can I do? All other characters, and the story itself are the sole property of ME, and my imagination. Please send all comments on the story to ME! Thank you and come again!
Prologue
The sky was clear this night. The gravestones shown with a muted glare as the occasional car passed by. The man paid no notice to them. His mind was completely focused on what he was doing, as he finished applying a strange smelling ointment to his face. In front of him stood the grave of a woman. The inscription on the gravestone gave him all the information that he needed to know. The woman's name was Angela Quinn, and she had been dead for 4 years.
He quickly drew the blood circle in front of the grave. From a large bag beside him he removed a live chicken, its legs tied and its beak taped shut. He placed the chicken in the blood circle and removed a large knife from inside his coat. He held the chicken down with his left hand. It tried to get out from under his grip, scratching the earth with its feet and beck. Before the helpless bird could put up much of a fight, the knife came down hard on its neck.
The head, completely severed, rolled a short distance before stopping. Blood spurted from the chicken's neck, soaking the center of the circle in dark blood. When the blood finally stopped, the man quickly cut the body of the chicken, exposing its spine. As he placed the now limp body in the center of the circle, he began to call out in a quite voice. "Hear me Angela Quinn. I call you from the grave. By blood, magic and steal, I call you. Arise, Angela and come to me, come to me." The earth shuddered and then was still. The man again spoke, this time louder, his voice deeper. " Angela, Angela, come to me. By Samedi grace, awaken, Angela, arise and come to me." The earth again shuddered. The chicken slid to one side as the ground erupted, and a hand clutched for air. A second hand grabbed at nothing, and the earth began to pour down, pushing the dead woman out.
The man backed away from the grave. The zombie had almost pulled itself from the grave. It sat panting, legs still trapped in the ground. Angela Quinn may have been pretty once, but 4 years in the grave were not kind to her. Her skin was an ugly grayish white, waxy, nearly expressionless, fake looking. Her hands were covered by long white gloves, now stained with dirt. Her dress was white and lace-covered. It looked a lot like a wedding dress. Her black hair clung t o her head in a bun, wisps of it tracing her nearly skeletal face. All the bones showed, as if the skin were clay molded over a framework. Her eyes were wild, dark, showing too much white.
The man watched as the zombie crawled toward the dead chicken. She grabbed the remains and began to suck on the wound at the top of the neck. She made small mewing sounds as she drained the blood that remained. It then stuffed the entire bird into its mouth, feathers and all. When she was done she looked up at the man with a dead eyes, blood dripping from her chin and staining her teeth.
"Come to me, I am your master. You are mine, now and forever," the man said to the sitting zombie.
It struggled to get up. When it managed, it stood in front of the man, staring at with no expression on its face. The man turned and began to walk toward the exit of the cemetery. The zombie made very little noise as it followed him.
As he passed through the exit, he glanced at the sign in front of the gates. "Sunnydale Cemetery". He smiled. "Sunnydale Cemetery is about to get less crowded," he said as he headed toward his car. What used to be Angela Quinn was not far behind him.
