Buffy jumped the low wall surrounding the cemetery. William vaulted over its brown stone patchwork with surprising grace then turned to lift Willow across the barrier. Buffy had to turn her head away. She couldn't bear to see Willow in the arms that had so often embraced her.

Buffy thought of all the times she'd come this way, on her way to Spike, strolling, walking, running toward him. In anger, in denial, in lust, in love. She could see the faint path her feet had worn, pulling her toward his darkness, reminding her of how her need for his love and support had become an addiction.

William had insisted on bringing a bag of weapons and she had insisted on leaving them at Spike's crypt. Buffy took them in. She stood for a moment, assaulted by memories and torn by guilt at what she was planning. She dropped the bag into the chamber underneath the crypt, whispering the word "Later."

They started a trek through the grounds, stopping at each new grave while Buffy told William why there should or should not be a fledgling vampire under its mound of raw earth. One burial site was surrounded with wreathes, some of brightly colored silk flowers, some of drooping dead ones. It was still sheltered by a green awning left by the mortuary to protect mourners from the rain. They found the vivid green Astroturf that covered the grave had been pushed aside, the soil disturbed, and a narrow passage forced from the coffin to the surface. Buffy led them as they made a wide circle around the area, hoping to find the new vampire. Sometimes a fledgling would be so disoriented that it wouldn't go far but they found no sign of the newly risen fiend.

The world was wet from last night's downpour. The rain, homesick, began to spawn its own cloud and spread it through the cemetery. It was a low, thick mist that left the small horizontal markers in the newer sections looking like steppingstones across a white lake. Their shiny surfaces were slowly submerged as the rising vapor oozed up and over them.

Buffy thought of a night when Spike had trailed her through a mist, complaining and insisting that they should go inside. He had trapped her against a tall stone and kissed her until she decked him. He didn't seem to mind and repeated the action until the last time she punched him to the ground she followed him down, pinned him under the mist and tore off his clothes. Once her hands were on his flesh he stopped complaining. She stopped at the memory and Spike's body bumped into her from behind, almost sending them both down into the pale vapor. His hands caught her, one arm wrapping around her shoulder, another around her waist and pulled her upright. His lips said,

"Sorry Buffy. I guess I'm following too closely. Willow and I will try to give you more room." William let go and Spike's arms released her, allowing Buffy to move away from his body - but not her memories of it.

"Though I don't know how you can walk dragging that coat through the grass. It's bound to trip you if you have to fight," William complained. "Why don't you just...let me wear that coat and you can take mine." Buffy turned to frown at her Watcher, thinking he should mind his own business. William immediately pointed down, "Look, you're stepping on the hem right now. You're going to damage it and take a fall."

William reached down, lifted her foot off the soft leather and pulled it out from under her boot. He removed his jacket and held it out to her, a stern look on his face. Buffy pushed the jacket away, turned, caught her foot in Spike's coat again, stumbled and fell on her face. She rolled up on her knees but found them up inside the duster which prevented her from rising. She finally rolled to her side, pushed the duster open and sprang to her feet trying to look cool. Damn!

William quirked one eyebrow up like Spike used to and continued to hold out his jacket. Buffy stood for a moment, then ripped off the duster and threw it at William. "Take it!" she almost yelled. Then she snatched his tweed jacket and put it on. It smelled a little of William and something of Spike. It was large for her but at least it wouldn't trip her or keep her from fighting.

William took the duster and gave it a brief shake then examined the lining for moment. He looked relieved that he didn't find any rips. He slipped it on like he was slipping into his skin. The duster fit perfectly, settling on his shoulders, the patterns of his bones and muscles matching the stretch and give of its leather. It fit. William stood there in Spike's coat, in Spike's body, only lacking Spike's memories and Spike's demon soul. And he'd get those soon enough if Buffy had anything to say about it.

They resumed their patrol through the cemetery then stopped in the middle of one of the little access roads that laced between the graves. The place was taking on a monster movie look. The mist flowed slightly as if it was being forced from a concealed crevice and into the world. The ground was hidden, gravestones projecting from the cottony whiteness, the drifting mist making them appear to be moving slightly, like ships floating on a pale sea.

"So is this a perfect night for monsters or what?" Buffy asked.

"Gotta vote yes on that," Willow answered.

"I bet monsters tell monster stories to other monsters about nights like this."

"Buffy, perhaps we should continue our patrol. The sooner we do what is required of us, the sooner we can leave this place," chided William. He then turned to Willow and asked, "Are you anxious? I could take you home and return to Buffy once you are safe."

Buffy could barely conceal her anger. William's concern for the person who had killed Spike was maddening. Willow leaned against William and she gave Buffy a look that might have been heavily concealed jealousy.

She then smiled brightly, saying, "No, I'm fine. This isn't such a bad place. See that crypt?" Willow indicated a little granite crypt about the size of a bathroom. It had two small polished columns flanking a metal door and gray stone walls chiseled with names and dates. "My Grammie Rosenberg is there. We used to come and leave stones to show we'd been here. She was very sweet to me when I was little. I used to think I could hear her trying to talk to me when we visited, telling me not to be sad. There are a couple of great uncles and a cousin in there as well. So this is not a bad place for me."

William looked at the crypt with curiosity. He had tired of cleaning his glasses when they misted up and had put them in his pocket. The humidity was also making his soft curls tighten, pulling them out of his face and closer to his head, making Spike's features unmistakable. In the coat, in the mist, he looked spookily like Spike. One "Bloody Hell!" would have been all it took to complete the picture.

They started again, walking through the mist as it multiplied into a heavy fog, shrouding the gravestones and crypts in pale shadows. The damp whiteness swirled around them. Buffy was out in front, Willow and William lagging behind, hand in hand and trying not tread on her heels. None of them liked the fog. Anything could hide in it.

The fog thickened more and the world shrunk down into a small moving room with fuzzy walls, just big enough to hold 3 people. Sometimes a tree trunk or a bush or a gravestone would add structure to the small space. Sometimes the leaves of a tree would add a rough ceiling. Sometimes a thick hedge added a wall. Sometimes the fog would open up to an auditorium-sized space. Sometimes it shrunk down to arm's length so they had to cluster together to keep from loosing each other.

Out of the corner of her eye she kept catching sight of William and thinking it was Spike. She tried to stop herself but couldn't. It was like Spike was patrolling with her again. His duster flowing behind him. His irritating and fearless self. Fearless because he had nothing in the world to fear but one girl. Her. He couldn't kill her so he'd beat her another way. Beat her down with his love and lust until she caught it from him like some emotional disease. Beat her by putting her on a pedestal and worshipping her until being the center of his world became the center of hers. She allowed herself to believe, for a moment, that Spike was with her. She avoided thinking about Dru who, she knew, was even now waiting for the man beside her, waiting to restore his demon soul - at the cost of his human one.

Buffy's Slayer sense began to tickle. Something was out there. They all felt it. Willow kept her side pressed to William who had a look of hyperawareness as he tried to see through the mist, tried to decipher faint sounds for meaning. Anything might be in the fog, just feet away from them. Something deadly and dark.

They had almost finished their loop and were back near the Rosenberg crypt. Though there was no wind the fog began to swirl around them, spirals of darkness blending into the white, as though an inky cloud had mated with the mist. When a dark tendril pulled Buffy's hair with a jerk, she realized the mist wasn't natural.

"This is probably just an ordinary fog. We're all just a little jumpy. Right, Buffy?" William asked at that very moment.

"It just pulled my hair so no, I don't think it's normal."

Suddenly Willow went down with a scream, the black cloud wrapping around her as she struggled against its inky folds. Buffy and William both tried to reach her but were thrown back by a dark tentacle of mist.

Willow was screaming and under her cries was the chant of "Give me back what is mine."

William stood up very straight and in his best magic voice said, "Dispellere!"

The inky cloud pulled away from Willow. They ran to her, pulled her up. She was breathless with fear, her eyes wide, her mouth open. "It was Venalicius. It wants me! That spell won't last long. We need to run!!"

They took one step and Willow collapsed in pain, crying, "My legs! He's done something to me. Each step is like knives!"

William picked up Willow and started to carry her. Buffy guarded their rear, looking for something she could fight. The black fog reached out toward them, its inky arms congealing from the mist. They found themselves backed up against the Rosenberg crypt, the darkness creeping closer and closer. William put Willow down on its steps then tried the door to the crypt. It was locked. He launched himself at it, trying to force it open. The glass in the door cracked but the metal grill held firm. He turned to Buffy and said, "Get the door open! We need to put Willow inside! Now!!"

Buffy crashed into the metal door. Once. Twice. The lock gave way and she went through the door and fell sprawling on the narrow strip of open floor between two racks of coffins. Not much room left for any more Rosenbergs.

Before she could get to her feet William pulled her up and outside the door then picked up Willow and placed her inside.

"Willow, you may have been right about some part of your grandmother's spiritual essence lingering around this crypt. If there are positive spiritual influences for you here, it would probably only take a simple spell to activate them. Then you could wait inside, safe, under the spiritual protection of your grandmother and your other relatives. It won't work for us but it should work for you and it is you that the demon is after."

"No, we can all get inside!" Willow begged, trying to hold him in the crypt.

"No, Willow. We would only be trapped here, not protected. We will find some way to fight or escape. Call on all benign spirits to protect you. See if they will come to your aid. Hurry."

Willow nodded then winced as she used her hands to pull her legs up and cross them in front of her. She closed her eyes and started to chant. William closed the door but through the metal grill and cracked window Buffy could see a small light glowing inside.

The mist was darkening again and curling around the crypt, embracing it in its inky arms, probing around the door. Abruptly it knocked Buffy and William away from the gray stones and layered itself on the small building like icing on a cake. The light from inside grew brighter. The dark mist twitched then was pushed away from the surface. Willow's spell was working. The inky vapor flowed over and around the structure, trying to find a way in. They could see it totally surrounded the crypt but was no longer able to touch it. It started to shudder as if something invisible was striking it.

The swirling around the crypt increased until it was like looking into boiling pot of clouds and snakes. Then it stopped. The darkness pulled itself back and congealed into a shadowy figure that reared up like a cobra, swaying slightly. It struck the crypt and was thrown back. It hovered a moment then turned...toward them.

William grabbed Buffy's hand, turning her away from the demon and said, "Run!"

~~~~~~~~

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

Feedback please.

[an error occurred while processing this directive]