Applejack heard a sound coming from the kitchen. It must have been good ol' Grenny Smith. She shushed at big mac, who nodded in understanding.

With a soft creak, she pushed open the door to the kitchen. There was granny smith, in her nightgown, flipping through the apple family recipe book as she did every night following Applejack's disappearance. Applejack personally penned a few of her own recipes within it's yellowed, apple-smelling pages.

"She knew how to make a mean apple cobbler..." she lamented.

Applejack stepped slowly through the kitchen. Granny Smith paid no attention until a single squeak of the floorboards betrayed the approach of the interloper. She looked up from the book to see a familiar face...

"Applejack!?"

"Ah'm back, Granny."

Granny smith squinted. Something about this person looking like, and claiming to be applejack, wasn't right. Mostly the eyes... and the pointy teeth... and the way she was dressed like some kind of outlaw stripper. Granny reached under the counter to open a compartment, grasping the grip of an old revolver.

With the apple family numbers dwindling, fear got to the old pony which bred paranoia. Whatever took Applejack would almost certainly come for the others. So she kept enough guns in the house to fight off Canterlot's Royal Guard if her distant nephew Apple Vodka was to be believed.

"This some kinda joke? It ain't funny." Granny asked.

Applejack sat down at the counter.

"It ain't no joke. Ah'm not Pinkie Pie. Ah been through all manner of queer circumstances, but ah'm back to make sure the apple family never goes hungry again."

Granny smith wanted to believe the... thing... sitting in front of her. But those eyes told more of a tale than her lips ever could.

"If yer really applejack, where'd ya'll get them fangs an' what happened to yer eyes?"

"Ah'm cursed, Granny. Ah'm a vampony." she said.

There was awkward silence, then Granny smith stumbled up from the stool pointing the gun in Applejack's face. "AH KNEW IT! YA'LL KILLED APPLEJACK AN' TOOK 'ER BODY!" Granny shouted, the barrel shaking in her hand.

"Granny, put that gun dow-"

Granny pulled the trigger. The loud shot rang through the barn and applejack almost fell to the floor.

"Dangit granny!" she shouted. She stood up. The fresh hole in her face began to close up, weaving the sinews, the muscles, the skin and the fur back into a perfect unblemished state.

Granny might not have been the most... grounded of ponies, but she was smart enough to know that it was time to run faster'n' a buffalo through the Appaloosa trail looking for the outhouse!

Unfortunately, she moved slower than drunk molasses. She'd occasionally turn to shoot at Applejack, and miss. Or occasionally catch her in the back of the head with a ricocheting bullet.

"Granny, it's really me. If you'll jus'-"

"You ain't applejack! Vampony! Heeeelp! Big mac!"

She made it to the living room... where she tripped over the rug and fell to the floor, crying out in pain. Applejack casually strode in as Granny kept pulling the trigger. But she had run out of ammunition. Hell no she wasn't out of ammunition! Dang thing was jus' stuck or somethin'!

"Big mac! Heeeeelllp!" Granny shouted, as Applejack stood over her.

Just beyond applejack, back in the kitchen, was Big Macintosh... but something wasn't right either. He was in no hurry to save granny. It was only when he came closer and was illuminated by the moonlight that she saw... he was a vampony too.

"I ain't joinin' ya'll! Ah'm too ol' fer this anyway!" Granny declared as she put the gun to her temple...
... and it dry fired again.

"Consarnit."

Applejack reached down and picked up the feeble old pony and carried her off into the barn. Shouting and pounding her feeble fists and knees against her muscled body the entire way.

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