It was long past sunset. The wind was clawing at the trees like there was a storm coming but the sky was clear and full of stars. Overhead a full moon hung like a big streetlight as Buffy hurried toward the dark cemetery. She'd been delayed. She told herself it wasn't her fault that she'd left William alone in the most vampire-infested place in Sunnydale but guilt was scratching grooves in her conscience.

Dawn had been late coming home and she had been calling all of Dawn's friends, one by one, when finally the brat strolled up, hand in hand with her new boyfriend, her face flushed, her lips swollen, and with a flashing neon sign over her head that said "Yes!! I've been necking for hours!" Buffy ordered the young man to go home and ordered Dawn into the house. There she chewed Dawn's butt from one end to another. While she fussed and Dawn flinched she kept looking out the window at the dark, thinking about Spike, thinking about William, and then starting a new sermon about "Trust" and "Responsibility" and "Calling home." She reminded Dawn how, six months ago, her disobedience had cost Spike his life and kept on until Dawn was crying and she was too.

When she finally left the house, sure Dawn would not stir, most people had already had their suppers and were settled in for the night, children snuggled in bed, and parents reading them fairy stories about less dangerous monsters than the ones that lurked in Sunnydale's shadows.

As she moved toward the cemetery, her eyes still damp, she reproached herself at every step. What if something had happened to William? She went faster. What if the poor guy was surrounded by vampires? Faster. What if a vampire was draining him dry right now? FASTER. What if they just killed him and didn't even TURN him? Running now.

She sped through the gravestones, weaving among them, heading toward Spike's crypt at full Slayer speed, full of anticipation and guilt. The old granite tomb was almost in sight. She slowed and quieted her breathing, listening for the sounds of a fight. She came around a tree and saw Spike standing in front of his crypt, his face full of anger and impatience, the kind of look that generally heralded deadly insults if not deadly blows. Even in William's tweeds with a stake in one hand and the wind ruffling his hair, he still radiated his ...well... Spikeness. Seeing him filled her heart with so much happiness she could barely contain a cry of joy. That was followed by a flush of lust she could feel from her nipples to her clitoris and that made her clench her vaginal muscles in anticipation. That was rapidly killed by a flood of remorse. Poor William! Then a rush of fear that this new Spike might be looking for his first meal and not caring where he got it, that she might have to stake him.

Her heart throbbing in eagerness, she held her breath as she approached him soundlessly, soundlessly till she stepped on a branch that gave way with a crack. Spike turned toward her and morphed into a tense and scared William, clutching his stake and expecting to die at any moment but trying to be brave about it. Still very much alive.

She sighed in relief and, at the same time, her heart began to ache as if someone had reached into her chest and squeezed. She missed Spike so much. It was like a kind of homesickness. Spike had turned out to be her home, her heart's home, and now she had to live in a world without refuge, forever, unless she found him again.

"Buffy!" William asked, anxious and excited, "What happened? I was so worried about you. Is everything alright?"

Buffy tried to throw off her sadness and replied, "Sorry I'm late. Problem with Dawn, " she excused herself, "I don't think I'm cut out to be the mother of a teenaged sister."

"Is Dawn alright! I hope the young lady is safe!"

"She's fine. Or as fine as she can be when she's grounded till she's in college."

"You shouldn't be so hard on her. She seems a lovely young person. Anyone would be proud to have her as a sister, or a friend."

Buffy wondered why he was so protective of a girl he knew so little. Spike and Dawn had bonded almost from the first but William barely knew her. Was this some sign of Spike? Or was Spike's bonding a sign of William?

"I'm surprised you care. You haven't been around her much. Did you have any sisters? Any brothers?"

William took a deep breath, his eyes shining with emotion, "Our little family was just myself and mother. But mother often spoke of her desire for a daughter. I must have caught it from her. I used to pray every Christmas for a sister. Someone to love and protect. I'm afraid I didn't understand how sisters came into existence. I must have thought if I prayed hard enough that one would drop from heaven into my widowed mother's arms. If only one had. Then she wouldn't have been left alone when I was...lost to her"

"Do you know what happened to your mother? Did Spike...?"

"Kill her? No, no. And yes. When I found myself in Sunnydale and became acquainted with the Council of Watchers, I asked them to make inquiries. Mother died four years after I did. He didn't kill her outright but my death hastened her own. She spent her last years mourning for me and haunted by the fact that my grave had been desecrated and my body taken. Or so she thought. Poor mother."

William turned away and, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his eyes then his glasses. She'd never wondered before about the people William had left behind. Spike had never spoken of his family. Or maybe he did. When he spoke of Dru and Darla and Angel.

William put his glasses back on his nose, straightened his shoulders like a soldier, and, looking around, asked, "This used to be where the vampire lived, didn't it? It's large for a tomb but small for a residence. What's it like inside?"

"Let's go in. You can look around."

Buffy pushed on the familiar door but some custodial hand had replaced the lock and it no longer yielded to her touch.

"It's locked, " she said sadly. "Spike always complained about me charging in without knocking."

She hesitated then kicked the door open and they went inside, sheltered from the growing wind. She fumbled around in the dark till she found a candle, stumbled around till she found the table, felt around its surface till she found the box of matches Spike kept in case his lighter ran out of fluid.

She scraped a wooden match along the rough wall and the tiny blaze lit her face. She lit the candle in her hand and held it up to reveal the room. It seemed the same. Dustier maybe. She lit a few more candles so William could see the TV, the chair, the microwave, the steps leading down to where Spike's bed used to be. She should clear his stuff out. She hadn't been able to face it before now. This was all that was left of Spike. It had value to her for that reason.

William looked around the dank room, a look of distaste on his face. "What was he like," William asked, "this Spike creature? I've never worked out why you allowed him to exist, even if he couldn't kill. He was an evil, soulless beast. He must have killed thousands, yet you let him survive."

Buffy knew she could never explain, "Spike was special. I don't know why but he was different than other vampires," then it slipped out, "And he loved me."

"WHAT!" William almost shrieked.

~~~~~~~~

Behind Door Number 1... Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

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