The night air was cool and heavy, that kind of eerie stillness that only Sunnydale seemed to have. The moon hung low, half-hidden by drifting clouds, lighting the old gravestones just enough to see your breath in the dark.

You’d cut through the graveyard a hundred times before, but tonight felt different. Every step crunched too loud beneath your shoes.

You quickened your pace. Then — snap. A branch cracked behind you.

You froze.

Your heart kicked up in your chest as you turned, eyes darting between the crooked tombstones. Nothing. Just shadows. You exhaled, trying to laugh it off. Sunnydale was weird, sure, but it wasn’t—

Something lunged.

A blur of pale skin and sharp teeth rushed from behind a monument, knocking you hard to the ground. You barely caught a glimpse — ridged face, glinting eyes — before pure instinct kicked in. You screamed, scrambling backward, dirt and grass under your nails as you stumbled to your feet and bolted between the headstones.

Your lungs burned, pulse hammering as you tore through the dark, hearing it behind you — fast, impossibly fast. You didn’t dare look back.

You turned a corner, nearly tripping over a grave marker, when suddenly — wham!

You slammed straight into someone. Both of you stumbled, your breath catching as you looked up. It took a second for your brain to register, but you knew her immediately as Willow, a girl you’d seen around school. And right behind her were Buffy and Xander.

“Whoa— hey, hey, it’s okay!” Willow’s voice hit your ears before your brain could catch up. Her hands caught your arms, steadying you as you nearly toppled her over.