The heat smothered Sunnydale like a wool blanket, heavy and unrelenting. Even the tombstones shimmered under the midday sun, their marble surfaces gleaming like bone. A breeze stirred, barely enough to cut through the suffocating warmth.
Buffy squinted at the horizon. Days like this were meant for beaches, cold lemonade, and zero undead encounters. But Restfield Cemetery didn’t believe in summer vacations.
As she strolled past a row of crypts, a prickle crawled up her spine. The air was too still—no birds, no cicadas, not even the occasional squirrel making bad life choices. Then, she heard it.
A muffled scrabbling.
She pivoted, tightening her grip on the stake. Dirt shifted near the base of a shadowed mausoleum, fingers clawing their way through loose earth. Then came the hiss—a guttural, desperate thing.
The vampire emerged, half-buried in darkness, eyes flashing hunger. It stayed crouched, just inside the crypt’s protective shade, nostrils flaring as it caught her scent.
“You know,” Buffy sighed, rolling her shoulders, “this was supposed to be my day off.”
The creature lunged—not forward, but sideways, trying to drag her into its shadowed refuge. Buffy twisted away, her boot scuffing against dry grass as she kept just outside its reach.
“Sun’s kinda your worst enemy, huh?” she taunted, shifting with the light.
The vampire snarled, darting toward her again, but Buffy was quicker. She spun, planted a well-aimed kick to its ribs, sending it reeling back into the crypt’s mouth.
It looked up, saw the sliver of sunlight creeping toward its feet, and let out a growl of frustration.
“Yeah,” Buffy mused, tossing the stake from hand to hand, “you’re not exactly working with a lot of real estate here.”
A flash—a darting attack—it reached for her, fingers nearly grazing her wrist. But Buffy was ready. She ducked, drove the stake straight into its chest, and stepped back just as it exploded into dust.
The crypt stood empty. The air settled. Buffy exhaled, brushing ash off her sundress. “Well,” she muttered, surveying the sunlit cemetery, “guess I should’ve gone to the beach.”
(A/n: I have had this in my drafts for a while, mostly editing and adding on to it but I believe I am done now.)
![Typical Summer Day in Sunnydale-[IC]The heat smothered Sunnydale like a wool blanket, heavy and unrelenting. Even the tombsto](https://image.staticox.com/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fpm1.aminoapps.vertvonline.info%2F9400%2F8a67f2164a7a0931aca01dc04754967a87d7f065r1-736-920_hq.jpg)
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