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“Here we go,” Buffy says, bending down to wave at Xander through the portal that divides her friend at home and Buffy and Willow in a new world.
When it closes, she straightens up to look around and take in the hellhole of an environment. They emerged in what would once have been a backyard, the house dilapidated and overrun with kudzu. Those green leafy vines wrap around all entrances, so it’s not worth trying to find any supplies there.
We are going to get it this time , Willow said before they departed. Trust me.
And Buffy did, which is how they have spent almost a month now jumping through portals. This isn’t their first foray into the bending of time — or more specifically — Willow bending time and space. Xander calls it the Bending of the Willows, with Giles helpfully adding that title sounded like a bad book.
They traipse through the undergrowth, making it to the front of the house and to a road, where the undergrowth sprouts through the cracks in the cement.
Since they can stay in this new world for only twelve hours — call them Cinderella without the terrible footwear — they have been following the clues but haven’t found the cause of the anomalies. Guess the name Scooby Gang is accurate. Somebody get Spike a Scooby Snack.
“This way,” Willow says, pointing down the street to the left where a wall of automobiles blocks the path. Far too many bloody shreds of clothing are hanging out of one window to make them feel comfortable. The living dead are slow moving, and compared to the plethora of vampires Buffy has taken out, have been easy peasy for the slayer.
Each time the duo have reappeared in this world, the amount of rotting flesh or burned corpses, smelling like the worst bonfire party Buffy’s attended, have increased. It seems odd. The zombies haven’t been killed by traditional means, a machete to the neck or bullet to the brain or even the body decaying beyond being held together from lack of nutrients. Instead, they are as intact as corpses can be and stiff like rigor mortis set in.
“Any chance we can get one of these cars working?” Buffy asks, pointing to the abandoned vehicles lined up.
“These rust buckets? Fat chance.”
“Guess it’s time to get our 10,000 steps a day in!”
Willow hums in response, already walking forward and making a path for them to get through. With no clouds in sight to block the midday sun, they immediately feel the full effects of the unbearable weather. Willow whips up a barrier in an attempt to not sweat out a whole puddle before they find their target.
“Where are we?”
“A few hours south of Atlanta.”
“Huh. Well, that explains why it’s hotter than hell here.”
“More humid too.”
Even with the sun descending to the west, the sweat, which causes stinging in the eyes and clothing to cling like a toddler with separation anxiety, escapes in a constant drip, being replenished with the multiple bottles of water consumed. The amount of corpses is starting to pile up, with hordes taken out in clusters.
They cautiously start toward smoke curling up in the short distance. As they get closer, the smell of the burning flesh brought in by a change of wind makes their noses scrunch and mouth upturn in disgust.
“Well, at least we know we’re close,” Willow states dubiously as Buffy makes a face in response.
Stakes at the ready, they approach the clearing to see two people dragging the undead into the large bonfire. A tall man takes an arm that broke off from a body from a petite blonde, who sighs and sits down on a log.
Willow and Buffy raise matching eyebrows at each other before stepping out into the clearing. Buffy raises her voice. “What’s this? Having a bonfire without us? We’re the life of the party!” She wiggles her eyebrows at the terrible pun. Neither stranger laughs, immediately on the defensive at the sudden appearance of part of the Scooby Gang.
“Who are you?” the woman asks. And while she is now standing up, she is about as tall as when she was just sitting.
“I’m Buffy and this is Willow.”
“Ned,” the man says, awkwardly waving his hand. He points at the woman. “And this is Olive.”
“I just call him the Piemaker,” Olive adds.
From right behind Ned — or the Piemaker — a loud moan rips through the meadow and can be heard over the cackle of the fire. Before Buffy can move, the man has whipped around and reaches out, booping both of the undead on the shoulders. They immediately stiffen and fall, adding to the bodies around them.
“It’s never ending,” he says through a sigh.
“Uh, what was that?” Buffy asks. “You a witch?”
Ned shakes his head. “I can bring people back from the dead but only for less than a minute or else someone else in the vicinity will die in their place. And on the second touch they stay permanently dead.”
Willow considers and smiles. “Oh, that’s neat.”
“The ol’ piemaker here puts those powers to use solving crime,” Olive snarks.
“Oh, that’s neat,” Willow repeats even louder due to the excitement.
Buffy huffs. “I just use mine to be all stabby, stabby, killy, killy.” Only the sounds of the crackling fire break the awkward silence that fills the air.
“Aren’t you fun, love?” Olive says, pointing at Buffy with a curled finger.
“Do you have any powers?”
“Nope, I’m just plain Olive. I sell the pies and mop the floors.”
Before another awkward silence can descend, Willow snaps her fingers. “I think we found the anomaly! Do you belong here? Are you from this…wasteland?” She gestures around them.
Ned shakes his head. “No," Olive answers in his stead. "We were at work and a portal opened and we were pulled through by some evil guy with a bat."
"He wanted my power to get rid of the zombies but we heard him and others talking about using my powers to take out regular humans as well."
"We snuck out of there with the help of a woman named Carol and we've been making our way around. We don't know how to get back to our world."
Buffy puts her elbow on Willow's shoulder and leans on it. "Well, lucky for you, we aren't from this world either, and Willow here is a witch who can get you home."
“Thank the heavens, I’m sick of these things!” The disgust is evident in Olive's tone, and it's only emphasized when she pulls a chunk of flesh from her shoulder.
“Well, there’s more coming, so I suggest we get out of here quick.” Willow points to a new horde of the undead cresting the hill, the now almost setting sun shining pink rays behind them. It really would be more cinematic if they weren’t here to get bitey on the group.
“Great.” Buffy hands Olive a stake. “Just in case.”
Turning around, Buffy sees Willow’s hands up, glowing with power, and the Piemaker awkwardly holding a finger aloft, readying to start tapping corpses. She raises her hand, stake in tow.
“Let’s fight this evil.”
Willow and her smirk before moving toward the masses ascending upon them.