•••

Xander and Spike followed Doyle as they wound their way through a labyrinthine array of sepulchers. The heat from them wasn't dangerous, but Spike still made sure to stay well away from them. Eventually, Doyle and Xander flanked the vampire, protecting him from any unintentional contact.

"So, Doyle," Xander began, eyes darting over the sepulchers, "Can we take a look at some of these people? Are we allowed to do that here?"

Doyle nodded. "If you want, go ahead. The lids won't get sealed on them until the end of this universe." He pursed his lips in thought. "You know, I bet you'd get a kick out of these guys over here," He said.

Spike saw where they were going. "The Watchers," He murmured. "Heretics."

"Oh, there are Watchers in every ring of Tartarus," Doyle assured the vampire. "But most of them end up here."

"Why?" Xander inquired. "I mean, they worked with Slayers like Buffy, helping people stay alive. What makes them heretics?"

Doyle's smile was grim. "The Watchers used to have an oath they lived by. They were supposed to observe, to watch, and record. It wasn't their place to judge, to decide which demons were gonna die."

"When did that change?" Spike asked Doyle.

"A long time ago," Doyle replied. "A group decided that they should tell the Slayer which demons were dangerous. Then they got into the training aspect. And then after that the magic."

"They wandered from the path they'd set for themselves, so they're heretics," Xander summarized. "That's why they're here with all the weirdo religious people."

Doyle grinned at the 'weirdo' comment. "Pretty much, yeah."

One of the denizens of the circle leaned up out of the torment of his sepulcher. "You know of the Slayer?" He called out to the travelers.

Xander pulled to a stop. "Yeah, we work with her. Who're you?"

The pitiful figure rubbed a charred hand on his equally seared chin. "A Watcher is who I am, and who are you who travel here?"

"I'm a friend of Buffy, the Slayer," Xander answered, looking over at Spike.

"'M William the Bloody," Spike murmured.

"And I am Doyle, their guide," Doyle finished.

"Ah," The Watcher hummed, staring at Spike. "We are enemies, you know. I was one of the Watchers who wrote the entry on you. Vicious spawn of ten devils is what you are." The ghost peered over Xander's shoulder, obviously looking for someone. "Where is the Slayer? Why isn't she with you?"

"She's done the dead thing more than once," Xander replied. "I doubt she'd find it very interesting now."

The Watcher's expression grew frightened. "More than once? She's died more than once?"

"Doesn't seem to stick to her," Spike said. "Keeps coming back."

"Slayers live, fight and die. They don't come back!" The Watcher yelled. "That is an abomination! The dead should stay dead!"

Spike and Xander shared a look, and then shrugged. "Get over it," Xander muttered.

"Don't be rude," Doyle warned. "It's not nice."

Xander snorted, as did Spike.

"So, Xander and William," The Watcher began, by now somewhat recovered from his tantrum. "You've come a long way from Sunnydale, to be standing in this circle of Tartarus. And you'll go much farther, I'd say. Yes, a great distance, indeed."

"We will?" Xander murmured questioningly.

"Oh, yes," The Watcher said confidently. "But do not think that the end of your journey will be the same place as where you began it, on the Hellmouth, that is. The path back to your home is rocky and barren, and nothing welcoming awaits you there," The man warned. "A choice you will be given, a dilemma. One option's struggles are acute; the other's, chronic. Choose carefully."

"How do you know that?" Xander asked the ghost.

The Watcher sighed. "The damned who reside in Tartarus are gifted with vision, but our eyes only focus on scenes at a great distance. The future is clear as a bright spring day, but as it grows nearer to us, we lose our focus on it and cannot see at all. At the end of time, we shall be rendered blind by the lack of a future to turn to."

Doyle decided that they'd spent enough time among the Watchers, so he urged Xander and Spike forward. As they were walking, he noticed that Spike continued to look worried, frightened and sad. "Spike? Wanna talk about it?" Doyle whispered as he gathered the vampire to him. It broke Doyle's heart to see such a strong figure brought down by the horror that was Tartarus.

"I'm never gonna leave this place, am I?" Spike asked softly. "They're going to chop me up so I can suffer in every ring, 'cause I've done all of this. All of it." Xander reached around the vampire and joined Doyle in comforting him, unsure of what to say.

The Irishman smiled gently and patted Spike's back. "Stop worrying about it, Spike. Tara's watching out for you. She's even got some sort of plan going on for the two of ya. As for getting out of here, now's not your time, so nobody's going to be cutting you into little bits and keeping you down here." With a firm nod of his head, Doyle directed his charges along the path, towards yet another section of red-hot sepulchers.