BtVS by Whedon and Mutant Enemy. Doctor Who optioned by the BBC. Stargate by Gekko Productions and others. The several shows/games also used as reference aren't mine.
Buffy rattled the doors to the large blue box, not quite willing to use her full Slayer strength to wrench them open. She had no idea what the thing was, but it looked like a rather beautiful example of its kind. However, this lock was starting to piss her off.
Inside the TARDIS, Xander ran to the monitor banks and tuned them so he could get sound and picture on what was happening outside his ship. He was rewarded with a view of Buffy pounding on one of the main windows, hard. "- have ten seconds to open this door before I break them down. Ten..."
Xander winced. One of the pamphlets he'd found on TARDIS construction had some notes scribbled to the effect of a bulldozer being way more effective as a door opening tool than a Mongol Horde. He wasn't sure where a Slayer lay on that scale, but it probably wasn't good.
"One... Brace yourself for impact." Buffy stepped back a pace and went into a stance for a supremely awesome kick-
"Ahem." Coughed someone behind her. She hastily spun around, to face Giles.
The Watcher was slightly winded from the running he'd had to do, but he was putting off panting until later in favor of reprimanding his student. "Good form, question is, why do you feel the need to abuse this poor Police Box?"
"Ah." Buffy turned her head to re-examine the writing. "So, that's what it is. There's someone hiding inside it, I think. Either that, or whatever made the noise opens and closes the doors like a cuckoo clock."
"Right." Giles nodded and checked his watch. "I guess we could come back later and see if it happens again? In the meantime, we have a route to patrol."
Buffy sighed and began to walk away. "So, what exactly is a Police Box?" She gave a glance over her shoulder as if she'd expected it to have already disappeared. "I sort of doubt there's a landline running through a graveyard. There are those payphones in the sewers, but as far as I know this thing wasn't here last week. Is it one of the dispatch radios they keep in their cars, just scaled up?"
Giles shrugged. "No, it should be a regular phone system. They started being phased out when I was about your age, thanks to the wireless technology becoming affordable. I'm assuming it's here to be repurposed as a grave marker or a coffin, like those people who are buried in their Ferraris."
"Weird. Although," Buffy said, pointing at the large cylindrical column they were passing. "I still think that Haddock marker is stranger."
"Maddox," Giles corrected, running his hand across his forehead. "It shows that this place has some crystal witch construction. From what I've gathered, the last Mayor shifted some money their way, perhaps in an effort to counteract the negative forces in this town? Remind me to point a certain crypt out to you when we reach the next cemetery on our route. There's apparently a doorway that opens once every decade, on that we still have three years to go, which could lead to something useful if I can plead our case properly..."
As the Slayer and her Watcher left Redhorn Graveyard, Ethan made careful note of the girl's appearance. I do hope the dear girl comes by my shop. Whatever costume she starts out choosing, especially if it's Ripper-approved, Ethan thought with a smirk. I'm going to try and steer her in a very different direction...
Once he felt he was sufficiently free from prying eyes, Ethan rose to his feet and brushed himself off. He bent down and picked up the red cooler he'd abandoned in his dive for cover, to verify that the contents were still intact. Walking on a bit further, he spotted the Police Box that had apparently attracted the Slayer to the graveyard.
After giving the side of the blue box an experimental kick he leaned forward and licked it. "Hmm..." Ethan frowned. "Definitely a reproduction of some sort, not the original materials at all, but no magical residue. At least, nothing fresh..."
Walking a safe distance away, but keeping an eye on the box in case something attempted to sneak out of it, Ethan set down his cooler and began stomping the grass in a wide circle around it. "Well, this seems as good a place as any."
After pacing the circle, dribbling small grains of black sand as he moved, Ethan retrieved the various implements he'd need to summon the local residents. Tapping out a smooth beat on the small drum between the lighted candles, he sang a song of life and loss, of hunger and revenge.
"Betrayed, betrayed. Blood in the night. Fallen, forgotten, unheard is your plight. Red in tooth, in claw, in root, let nature be your vengeance. Make their fears take root."
As Xander watched the monitors, intent on Ethan's song, he saw lines of what appeared to blue electricity begin to crackle and spark across everything made of stone in the graveyard, including the mausoleum wall next to the TARDIS. Turning to focus intently at a particularly large and flickering mass, he'd just decided he was almost sure he could see a face when the song's tempo changed and it sprung out at him.
"Augh," Xander screamed in horror and leapt backwards, frantically brushing himself off. Realizing nothing was on him, he panted until his hearts resumed their normal beat. "Oh, right. Cameras."
"Worth. What are you to me? Nothing, beyond what you can give me. Trinkets, artifacts, treasures of the grave. The choicest souls for the choicest bowls. Search the earth for things of worth, so you may stalk my night deprave."
Ethan raised his hands from the drums and into the sudden, jarring silence he spoke: "Well, what do we have here?"
Around him hung forms with long, limp arms and bowed heads. In their hands were objects they'd phased through the graveyard's walls and ground to find in their desperate search for substance. "Well, you heard my song," Ethan said. "Those of you who answered my call know exactly what you're in for. Now." He opened the cooler and spun it around to face his audience. "Let me show you what I have to offer."
Choosing the largest of his wares first, he held it up for all to see. It was a soft orb of thick flesh and rough skin, covered in dark brown hairs. It mooed faintly at his touch.
The spirits raised their heads, their dead eyes intent.
Ethan grinned widely as he raised the sphere higher. "The trapped souls of slaughtered animals anchored in enough living flesh that those of you who hold them when my spell is set three days hence will gain the monstrous form of your choosing until its end. May you paint the town red."
Xander had started pacing, wondering if there was some way of disrupting the ritual without being seen, or at least being recognizable when he did it, when Ethan's voice returned his attention to the screen.
"There's a limited selection of the largest sizes," the man continued. "You've scoured this graveyard from stem to stern, bypassing curses and protections meant to strike those living dead, reaching through the trickiest locks and the thickest hidden doors as if they were nothing. Because they are nothing compared to you, my willing horde. Who thinks their find is worthy of the cream of my crop? Who can bargain for the highest value? Who will be leaving with the best prize from this 'yard sale?"
As the spirits raised their arms, voices raised as the whisper of wind and the cracking of ice, Xander blinked and zoomed in on a waving translucent hand. Clutched in it was an apparently disabled sonic screwdriver, twin to the one that was his...
Xander waited, his fists clenching and unclenching in frustration. Of course his sonic screwdriver had to be one of the last few purchased by Ethan. It had been bought for the smallest amount of meat and one of the youngest of the calf souls because the sorcerer had no idea what it was, nor was the spirit able to communicate beyond vaguely waving in the direction of the Maddox marker.
As Ethan ended the ritual and began to pack his things for the night, the spirits descending into the ground with their prizes and the unsold goods, Xander sighed and wandered into the library for one of the booklets he'd been reading. "Nothing for it," he said. "Can't start the time engine if I'm not sure where it would take me. Can only interact with things I haven't seen until Halloween, or at least make sure I do a really good job of pattern matching. This would be an ideal time to abduct Deadboy for table tennis if I actually liked him at this point in time. Three nights, three nights to go."
"Well," he said, paging through the papers. "Good night as any to get this baby to fly. Haven't moved it physically through the normal three dimensions before, with no teleportation involved. Just me, the TARDIS and the fresh night air... I wonder how she handles?"
When the TARDIS shakily lifted from the ground, Xander had the answer to his question. Apparently there was a lot of spinning involved...