Early To Rise

"Um... Spike?" Buffy peeked out through the curtains, careful to not let too much of the morning sun into the bedroom (and also, avoid a major Life of Brian moment for anyone outside since she wasn't really wearing much of anything). "The dead are rising."

From the bed, Spike gazed at her. "I know I am."

"Pervert. No, I mean there's a real, family-size zombie apocalypse outside."

"Really? Now?" Spike got out of bed and slid his arms around her, looking out at the moaning corpses staggering down the street. "Yeah, that's... more zombies than usual. Hey, where are you going?"

"Sorry. Gotta save the world." Buffy wriggled out of his grip and started looking for her clothes. "Have you seen my broadsword? I think I put it – hey! I need those!"

"Not yet, you don't." Spike hid the garment in question behind his back – at strategic height.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "This is all very sexy and everything and I'm really impressed by your panty-raid skills, but right now I think the zombie army that's about to have Cleveland for breakfast takes priority to your -"

Spike grinned. "I think it can wait. Listen to what they're saying."

Buffy listened to the lamentations of the living dead outside. "They're going 'brains, brains, brains.' Big surprise."

"No, listen. Use those Slayer senses of yours."

(Graaaaaains. Graaaaains.)

"Vegetarian zombies...?" Buffy groaned and shook her head in disbelief. "I hate the Midwest. There's something seriously freaky about this hellmouth."

"So I suppose you have to go slay them now, right? Save Old McDonald's tomatoes from a fate worse than death? The life of a champion, no rest for the - ooof."

"Ooof" is the sound a vampire makes when he's tackled backwards onto the bed by a Slayer who was just starting to get into slay mode and now has to work off her adrenaline in some other way. And so it came to be that while the dead rose, the (mostly) living stayed in bed for quite some time while the Department of Agriculture handled the biggest pest problem in years.