*****
Canto I

[Spike and Xander astray by night in a dark forest. Morning and the sunlit hill. Three beasts that impede their ascent. The encounter with Doyle, who offers his guidance and an alternative path through two of the three realms the voyagers must visit.]

"Where the fuck am I?" Spike whispered. He looked around desperately, hoping for any sort of familiar marker, something to tell him where he was. It was not to be, however; all around him stood a thick, shadowed forest. Trees twisted and bent in a cruel parody of the foully disfigured state of his own mind, with its shattered reality and fractured soul. Everywhere he turned, black evil laughed at him, mocking his plight.

He tried to walk the path he'd found himself on, but all too soon he was lost; the path was overrun by brambles. Instead, he plowed down a hill, hoping to find a respite from the clinging, scraping thorns. At the bottom of the hill, Spike saw a figure, standing at the very edge of a cliff. As he drew closer, the vampire realized that it was Xander. The very first rays of dawn's light cloaked the boy's shoulders in vibrant color, spilling over to illuminate the forest that cowered just behind him. Spike paused, feeling simultaneously relieved and frightened. An irrational sense of reassurance swept through him; he was not alone in this wild, strange place. However, the sun was rising quickly--and over one of his most vicious detractors at that. Would Xander welcome him or grab up one of the many fallen branches that lay like mines upon the ground?

Before Spike could decide whether to approach the young man or run in fear, Xander turned around. "Spike?" He said incredulously. "You're here too?"

"I'd say so," Spike whispered.

"Er... where is here, anyway?" Xander inquired suspiciously. "What did you do, Spike? Kidnap me? Drag me off to some weird place to... well, you can't hurt me, so what? Bore me to death?"

Spike shook his head. "I'm as lost as you are, Xander." The vampire then noticed that for the first time in weeks, his mind was blessedly silent. No voices clamored in his brain, demanding attention. He took the unanticipated opportunity to look around a bit more. They were caught up in a violent wilderness, covered in vicious hazards. Xander, though, was standing on a sort of path, one that led up a nearby hill. "Why don't we try this path? Maybe we can figure out where the hell we are."

Much to Spike's surprise, Xander nodded and started walking. They walked in tense, hostile silence, Xander leading and Spike keeping watch with golden eyes, until finally Xander called a halt to their procession. The boy rested briefly on a fallen tree while Spike scanned the area ahead of them. "We should start up the hill," Spike suggested as Xander rose to continue.

"Think we'll find a way out of this mess?" Xander asked shortly. "And you're *sure* you didn't do anything?"

Spike didn't answer, mostly because he was staring, transfixed at the rising sun. It had taken much longer than he'd expected for the glowing orb to rise up into the sky. He'd been planning to either duck into the thick forest to hide or simply let the first rays that hit him end his soul-having misery. The latter urge was victorious; he was trapped in some strange, hostile place with an equally hostile companion. However, the light did not hurt him; instead merely warming his skin as it struck.

"So this place doesn't roast vamps at sunup," Xander commented. "Let's get going." Spike nodded and once again fell into place behind Xander, who pushed on up the hill. They hadn't gotten far when Spike sensed movement.

"Holy..." Xander murmured, stopping dead. A huge, spotted leopard bounded towards them, as though warning them away. It kept watch in front of them, but made no real effort to attack. Xander backed down the hill, letting Spike take the lead as they skirted the animal. "I really don't like this, Spike," Xander muttered as they moved away from the leopard.

Spike started back up the hill as soon as they were away from the animal that had so scared Xander. They had made just a bit of progress when in front of them came a growling, snarling and ravenous lion. Xander squealed and leapt straight up in the air, landing in Spike's arms as the vampire beat a hasty retreat. He carried Xander along the hillside, until they were well away from the beast. As soon as they were, Xander pushed away from Spike and dusted himself off, red-faced with humiliation. "'S ok, Xander," Spike assured the boy. "*I* won't tell a soul that you screamed like a girl and jumped into my arms."

"Fuck you," Xander growled, charging up the hill. After about three steps, he came face-to=face with a scrawny, vile-looking wolf. "Spi-ike?"

Spike ran ahead of Xander, throwing himself at the wolf. He should've been able to defeat it, but the she-wolf was just too strong. It bit and clawed, rending the vampire's flesh. Finally, Spike joined Xander down the hill to where the boy had retreated, wiping spittle and gore off his battered body.

"That worked so well," Xander commented dryly. "I guess it's more 'not up the hill' traveling for us, huh?" Spike nodded and continued walking, using the tattered remnants of his shirt to finish cleaning up.

"That's it, I'm stopping," Xander declared. "I'm tired, and you smell like dog slobber, and we're not getting anywhere."

"Alright," Spike agreed, slumping down. They hadn't rested even five minutes when a shimmering figure appeared in front of them.

"Er, Spike? You know him?" Xander asked the staring vampire. "Or is he from around here? As in, might be able to get us home?"

"We don't even know what it is," Spike hissed. "It could be a ghost, a human, a demon--anything."

"I used to be both human and demon, but I'm just a ghost now," The figure said, voice pleasantly accented. "I lived in Los Angeles, even worked with your Sire. I was his seer, you know? I got the visions, he played the hero. So... why aren't you two heading on up the hill and getting your sorry arses out of here?"

"You're Doyle, aren't you?" Spike murmured, recalling some of Drusilla's rantings. She'd said more than once that Daddy had acquired, and then lost, a spiny Irish seer. "Please, Doyle, can you get us the fuck out of here? We can't get past the damned wolf--or the leopard or the lion. They nearly made Xander piss himself." The vampire ignored Xander's indignant huff.

Doyle thought for a moment. "I guess you're going to have to take the long way around; nobody can get past the wolf. She's this symbol of...av-- av--, greed. Eventually this guy's going to come down here and kill her off. That'll fix everything, but I'm not seeing it happening any time soon, so I'm thinking that for now, you'd better follow me. I can get you through this plane, and the next. Of course, you're gonna have to see a bunch of nasty, evil stuff. Torture, suffering, the whole nine yards. Then I'll hand you off to this girl I know who can take you through the Summerlands. They won't let me in there right now."

Xander and Spike shared a glance. The blonde was pretty well set on following Doyle--the souled version of his Sire had trusted the mick, and hadn't been let down. That was enough for Spike, given the circumstances. He really didn't want to find out how long it took a she-wolf to gnaw the head off a vampire. Xander nodded, obviously seeing the prudence in taking help when it was offered. "Lead on," Xander said to Doyle. "I mean, if you can get us out of here, I'll put up with a bit of bloody nastiness. And hey, Willow's always said neato things about the Summerlands!"

Doyle nodded briefly and led the way, Spike and Xander falling into step behind him.

*****
Canto II

[The following evening. Invocation to the Muses. The narrators' questioning of their worthiness to visit the deathless world. Doyle's comforting explanation that he has been sent to help Spike and Xander by the three Blessed Ladies. The voyagers heartened. Their setting out.]

Spike watched with sorrow as the sun fell away, leaving him abandoned once again in the darkness that was his home. He noted that Xander was shivering, although the vampire wasn't sure if the action was rooted in newfound frigidity or fear. They had been following Doyle on this tedious path for many hours; Spike had long since given up marking the time because the stuff didn't seem to flow the same way wherever it was they were. With the encroaching night, however, Spike found himself sending up prayers to whatever deities acknowledged him, wanting any strength they had to spare. He was worried that he and Xander weren't going to be able to do this. Doyle mentioned that there was a place he wasn't welcome; if the seer wasn't allowed there, how could Spike ever make it through?

Finally the vampire worked up enough moxy to voice his concerns. "Er, Doyle?" He began tentatively. "Could we stop for a minute?"

Doyle drew their progression to a halt, letting Xander take a much-needed rest. "Something bothering you?" The Irishman asked Spike.

"Yeah. From the way you described it, we're going to be walking through hell--literally. Are you sure we can do this? I mean...do you have any idea about who's managed to go into this place and make it back out again? Sure, Buffy and Angel survived it, endured the torture an' all that, but me?"

"And me here," Xander piped up. "Er, 'doughnut boy' isn't exactly sure he's up for a journey through something that broke Deadboy."

"Could you give us a clue here?" Spike continued. "This doesn't seem like a good idea to me."

Doyle studied the two men briefly. "Let me see if I've gotten this right," He murmured. "You two are chicken." Xander and Spike blanched but nodded. "Right. I can see why; this place isn't exactly all sunny happiness and fluffy kittens, eh?" The ghost settled down on the ground next to Xander, wriggling until he'd displaced a particularly nasty branch.

"Why don't I tell you why I'm here? Maybe that'll help," Doyle offered. Spike slid down to the ground, propping himself against a tree. "Just before I found you, I was kinda floating around this place, having myself a nice chat with another dead guy. Then this girl called out to me, asking me to come over and join her. She was... all light and pretty, more than pretty," Doyle continued, eyes glazing as he remembered the sight. "She had these eyes, and that voice! Anyway, she knew who I was, knew that I'd been working with Angel when I'd died. Tara, her name was, and she came to me asking for help."

"'I was in the Summerlands when I heard that Xander and Spike were lost in these woods, being threatened by the wolf. I'm worried that they won't make it out unharmed. They were both there for me when I was alive, always watching out even when Willow and I were arguing. Could you please help them, guide them safely? All of us in the Summerlands would love it if you would,' Tara said, gentle voice the sweetest caress on my wounded ears.

I was a bit shocked by the request, because I didn't know her at all. But she was so sweet, perfect and all, so I couldn't resist. 'Er, Tara? It's great that you're watching out for these friends of yours--it certainly sounds like they need some help--but why did you wait so long? They've been down there a while.'" Doyle paused in his retelling as a howling wind rattled the trees.

"What did she say?" Xander asked softly. He was more than a little amazed that Tara was watching out for Spike and him.

"She told me why she wasn't so quick getting to me," Doyle replied. "She was hanging out in the Summerlands with her mom when this other lady send a chick named Kendra to tell her what was what down here. That got her riled and she came to find me right quick. Tara also told me how Xander here stood up to Willow, and how Spike was Angel's childe and was working with the Slayer." Doyle waited while Xander and Spike digested what he'd said. "Of course, I'm not one to deny a beautiful woman anything she wants, especially when she's also so damned nice."

Xander frowned at the ground while Spike stared up at the tree-filtered night sky. "Tara's up there?" Spike whispered, his unblinking gaze trying to discern the Summerlands amidst all the leaves.

Doyle grinned. "Sorta. The Summerlands aren't exactly up there, like you'd say heaven was; it's a different dimension. Where we are now is actually more like Tartarus. Specific religion's not really an issue here, but the usual names give it some familiarity."

Spike watched as Xander's grimace slowly shifted into a wistful smile. "Do we get to see Tara--after we make it through this place?" He asked Doyle hopefully. "I miss her."

Doyle nodded quickly. "That's the plan; she's going to get you through the Summerlands."

Xander and Spike shared a brief glance before standing up. They seemed to Doyle to be filled with new energy, their brief flirtation with cowardice over. "Let's get at it, then," Xander said firmly. "I'm still not looking forward to this whole 'scenic tour of the underworld' thing, but if Tara's on our sides..."

"Then we can handle it," Spike finished for the boy. He wasn't exactly sure why Tara would want to help him; Xander he could see, but himself? Perhaps she saw them as a package deal, and her desire to aid Xander overcame any disgust she felt at also assisting Spike.

Doyle wasted no time in getting them back on the path and soon they were plunging through the thick, black forest, heading for some unknown destination.

*****
Canto III

[The inscription above the Gate of Tartarus. The Ante-Inferno, where the shades of those who lived without praise and without blame now intermingle with the neutral daemons. He who made the great refusal. The River Acheron. Charon. Xander and Spike's loss of their senses as the underworld trembles.]

THROUGH ME THE WAY INTO THE SUFFERING CITY,
THROUGH ME THE WAY TO THE ETERNAL PAIN,
THROUGH ME THE WAY THAT RUNS AMONG THE LOST.
JUSTICE URGED ON MY HIGH ARTIFICER;
MY MAKER WAS DIVINE AUTHORITY,
THE HIGHEST WISDOM, AND THE PRIMAL LOVE.
BEFORE ME NOTHING BUT ETERNAL THINGS
WERE MADE, AND I ENDURE ETERNALLY.
ABANDON ALL HOPE, YE WHO ENTER HERE.

"That looks bad," Xander whispered, staring up at the imposing stone arch, carved with such words as would instill fear in a basilisk. "Should we be worried? 'Cause I'm feeling worried." Spike thought that Xander looked a mite more than worried. Scared out of his mind was more like it. Not that Spike was in any better shape.

"Doyle?" Spike murmured. "This sign...care to explain?"

The Irishman glanced up at the obsidian doorway. "Suck it up, boys. This place is gonna scare the shit out of you."

"Ah, thanks," Xander muttered sarcastically.

Doyle led them forward over rough terrain. Soon Xander and Spike could hear plaintive wails and screams, ones so sorrowful they made Spikes newly returned soul ache and tear. "What is that?" Spike asked Doyle. "They sound so...pained."

Doyle grimaced. "Them? They are those who cannot even be tortured, ones that Tartarus won't even take."

"What did they do?" Xander asked fearfully. What could possibly be that bad?

"Their crime?" Doyle murmured. "Willful ignorance," He continued. "They chose to know nothing. Some of them are neutral daemons--those that refused to get off the fence and be good or bad."

"Bliss only to the living," Spike said under his breath as he studied the figures in front of him. He was oddly glad that this was one place in the afterlife he would never be stuck. Of all the crimes he'd committed, willful ignorance wasn't one of them.

"What's bliss?" Xander asked. "I'm seeing no bliss."

"Ignorance," Spike replied. "Bliss only to the living."

"Classic case of life coming around to bite you in the ass," Doyle confirmed. They drew closer to the throng, where Xander could see that the frail, battered wraiths were running endlessly. They were all chasing a banner, made up of every color and every texture the boy had ever seen, rippling in a harsh, cold wind.

Spike peered into the crowd as they passed, swearing that he recognized a few faces amongst the crowd, namely his long-dead father. Xander saw Spike stumble and steadied the vampire, dragging him along the path that Doyle cut for them. "Come on, Blondie. We're gonna get lost."

"Come on," Doyle said quickly. "It's okay to look, but lingering's bad, and talking to them's worse. They'll drag you in." He forged ahead, wanting to get past this mob of the undecided. They soon pushed through yet another mass of the dead, these berated by angry insects, covered in tears and blood.

"Dare I ask who they are?" Xander whispered to Doyle.

"Let's get to the river first, hmm?" Doyle replied absently as he shoved a walking corpse out of his way. He marched on, with Xander and Spike behind. They were almost to the river when Xander realized he still had Spike's hand in his. The young man dropped it immediately, blushing a beautiful shade of burgundy. Spike decided to be polite and ignore Xander completely. He knew the boy would prefer it that way; besides, Tartarus was no place to get into a fracas.

An old man, who reminded Xander of the homeless guy who lived near the Bronze, was standing at the shore, shouting at pretty much the whole universe. "Hey, you! Yeah, you, dead people! What, you thought this was the Summerlands Cruise Line? Riiight! Your tickets are one way--to Tartarus only!"

"Er, who's that?" Spike asked Doyle, grabbing their guide by the shoulder.

"Step right up! I'm the only ride in town, people," The old man continued. "Except for you two. You're not dead yet." He peered closely at Spike. "Well, not *completely* dead. Sort of freshly dead. Lively dead. Not dead enough. Go away."

"Lay off, Charon," Doyle said amiably. "Tara and her friends told us to come this way, so make room on the boat and give it a rest."

Charon rolled his eyes and scratched his crotch. "Fine. There's a couple of chairs near the wheel." Doyle led Xander and Spike onto the hovercraft and helped them strap on their seatbelts. Dead people in various states of nastiness crowded around them. Soon Charon was beginning his pre-flight check, occasionally goosing the dead with his cigar.

"These people," Doyle began in a conversational tone, "They're all wanting into Tartarus, so they can get their justice, and maybe one day someone will take pity on them and let them into Purgatorio. But this stuff is pretty much just for the dead; that's what Charon's got a problem with."

"He'll get over it, right?" Xander asked the Irishman. Doyle shrugged.

"Hold onto your hats, 'cause this puppy's about to take off!" Charon announced with a devilish laugh. A harsh, chaotic wind kicked up, throwing water and dust high up into the air. The dead moaned and screamed as the hovercraft lurched up and sped off over the dark river. The grizzled demon turned the wheel sharply, sending several wailing passengers over the side and into the inky waters.

Xander groaned as the craft spun around. He felt the telltale watering in his mouth as the nonexistent contents of his stomach rebelled; had he had anything at all in there, Spike would've been covered in it. As it was, His head and shoulders rammed into the vampire, who simply wrapped an arm around him and held on tight. Xander was somehow comforted to see the blonde man affected by the wild ride. He'd just about recovered from the first gyration when Charon abruptly spun the opposite way. It was too much for both Xander and Spike and they slumped down in their seats, Doyle holding both of them up.

*****
Canto IV

[Xander and Spike's awakening to the First Circle, or Limbo, inhabited by those who were worthy but lived before the birth of good and evil, or lived without any knowledge of good and evil. The welcoming of Xander, Spike and Doyle by an early Elder. A mention of other great-hearted spirits in the noble castle of Limbo.]

"Oh, my aching head," Xander moaned as he sat up. "Did you get the number of whatever hit us?"

"I'm pretty sure Charon doesn't have a driver's license," Doyle commented as he helped Spike and Xander stand up. "Sorry about that; I should've warned you."

"Next time, eh?" Spike muttered. He took in their new location, on the far side of Acheron. They stood at the top of a tall hill, overlooking a deep valley. The vampire thought that it might have once been verdant and fertile, but now a heavy cloak of mist and fog obscured it from any sun that might want to shine. Soft, plaintive cries floated up, although they were nothing like those of the ignorant.

"We'd best get going," Doyle grimly told his charges.

Xander paused. "Er... why do you look like that? Is this place worse than Charon's rollercoaster?"

Doyle shook his head. "Nah, I'm just thinking about who's in the valley. It's actually the most pleasant part of Tartarus, but still..."

"Who's down there?" Spike asked, edging closer to Xander. He wasn't sure he really wanted a tour of where he'd eventually be going once someone got lucky and staked him.

Doyle began down the path to the valley, speaking as they walked. "This place is for those who lived long ago, before anyone knew what good and evil were. They didn't do anything *wrong*, per se, but they didn't have the choice, either."

"So they're stuck here?" Xander asked. "Just... being?" He saw a few shrouded figures amble by, not really going anywhere.

"Like everyone here, they're waiting to move on," Doyle explained. "Most of the people in Tartarus are trying to get to Purgatorio--their next step before they can even start thinking about the Summerlands. These people, though... it's different for them, since they haven't done anything to heap on bad karma."

"You mean the baddies make it up there before these people do?" Spike asked. "That doesn't seem right."

"No, some do make it up there, but it takes a long time. Actually, more of them get reborn without actually making it to the Summerlands, unlike the others down here. The ones in the lower rings all have to make their way out of here before they can be reborn," Doyle explained. The Irishman glanced over at a group of men and women standing under a barren tree. When they saw them, they came over.

"Eep!" Xander squeaked as he took in their appearance. Not one of the people was human. Most had horns or scales, making them easily identifiable as demons. "Do not be afraid," One said gently as Xander scuttled behind Spike.

"This is Shatha," Doyle told Spike and Xander. "He's one of the earliest Elders of his kind."

"Oh," Xander murmured, stepping out from behind the vampire. "Uh... hi."

"Hello, young human," Shatha said. "Welcome to our home. Here you will find those far older than yourself--ones who are also much younger, having died aeons before your kind race walked the fair earth. All of us welcome you."

Spike nodded for both himself and Xander. He thought that Shatha looked a bit familiar; the ghostly demon sort of reminded him of a Fyarl, but with less prominent horns. Perhaps it was an ancestor of that species. "Love to stay and chat," Doyle told the ghost demon, "But we're on a tight schedule."

"Ah," Shatha whispered. "Go with and in safety," He told Spike and Xander. "And do not forget to see the tribes of Gawra as you approach the Second Circle."

The three men nodded and walked on. "I still don't see why they can't just be reborn," Xander told Doyle. "They don't seem evil."

"But they aren't good either," Doyle replied. "The only others that are neither good nor evil are those we saw before the gates of Tartarus. Would you rather Shatha and his kin be sent there? At least here, they can exist in relative peace until they move on."

"What do they have to do to move on?" Spike asked the half-demon.

Doyle sighed. "Learn what they had no chance to when they were alive," He replied. Before he could elaborate, they came up on a large group of demon-ghosts, all of whom were gathered around a large, flat stone. They were taking turns as speaker, conversing in some long-dead language.

"Who're they?" Xander asked Doyle.

"The Raftka, one of the tribes of Gawra," Doyle said quietly. "They were great philosophers of their time, and they still debate amongst themselves. However, no matter how much they talk, they never find good and evil, only a neutral state of being."

"How long have they been at it?" Xander pressed.

"Millions of years," Doyle answered. Spike watched the demons as they passed, wishing they could stop to talk. He found himself oddly at peace in this hopeless place; his tortured soul felt secure in a land that knew no evil-nor any good. His soul wanted to stay, to revel in this haven of neutrality. Xander seemed to sense Spike's reticence and pushed the vampire on, making sure he didn't get left behind.

*****
Canto V

[The Second Circle, where the Lustful are forever buffeted by violent storm. Minos. The catalogue of carnal sinners. Parker. Parker's tale of lust and death.]

Spike, Xander and Doyle left behind the sad but peaceful valley in favor of the second circle, which bore little resemblance to the first. "Who's the big guy with the tail?" Xander asked Doyle. Before them stood a tower of a creature, snorting and scowling at all the dead who crowded around him. One by one they approached him, presenting themselves for judgment. Spike watched in horror as the monster peered at a dead man, bloody eyes staring straight through him. Then that long, leathery tail began to coil around the beast's middle.

"That's Minos," Doyle said in a whisper. "He's judging the dead."

"Oh," Xander murmured.

"Sounds lovely," Spike commented.

Doyle let them hang back for a moment. "Well, he can see sin, 'cause he's something of a connoisseur of the stuff. Anyway, see his tail?"

"Yeah," Xander answered tentatively. "All... ninety billion feet of it."

"Well, that's how you know where the dead person's going. Each coil is stands for a circle of Tartarus. That guy," Doyle continued, pointing at the now-screaming dead man standing at Minos' feet, "Is going way down deep, into the Eighth Circle."

"What's there?" Spike inquired cautiously.

Doyle smiled grimly. "You'll see soon enough." He urged them on then, forward through the throng of the dead waiting for judgment.

"Hey, you really don't want to go in there," Minos yelled down to Spike and Xander. "It's not a good place for the living."

"Don't worry," Doyle yelled back up at Minos. "Tara an' her friends sent us! They've got to go all the way through. We'll be fine."

Minos nodded and shoved a bunch of dead people out of the way, clearing a path for the three men. Still, Xander hung near Spike as they made their way into the second circle proper. It was a wild place, winds howling and scraping against every surface. Xander reached over to hold on to Spike, who was grabbing for Doyle at the same time. The currents were almost strong enough to knock them off their feet. "This really sucks!" Xander screamed as something hit his head. Spike snagged the item, which turned out to be a muck-covered shoe. He tossed it aside and the footwear was quickly taken up into the swirling miasma above them.

Spike wrapped one hand around Xander's head, drawing the boy closer. He could smell Xander's fear, an emotion he felt acutely himself. This place was... it was where he knew he was coming to once he died his last death. Didn't all vampires come here, heartless murderers that they were? Perhaps there was even a circle devoted especially to them. What he'd seen so far of this afterlife, this terrifying underworld, had Spike more than ready to devote the remainder of his unlife to the most worthy, good, and evil-banishing cause he could find... all in the hope that he would be shown even a touch of leniency by Minos when he stood before the monster for his judgment.

"Who are these people?" Xander asked Doyle. In the windy cloud above them, the boy could just make out the forms of the dead, all being thrown madly about. Some passed by close enough to touch, and they all grabbed at each other and at the men on the ground. No hold ever took and they slipped away, screaming in agony.

"These are the lustful," Doyle said loudly. "They craved flesh and pursued it relentlessly, never satisfied. Now they're tossed about in the storm, always drawing near to the flesh they desire, but never quite able to grasp it."

"Oh," Xander murmured. One pitiful figure came close enough for the young man to see its face. Even with the ravages of Tartarus clouding her face, Xander could see that she had once been quite beautiful.

"Cleopatra," Doyle told the two men. Spike tore his eyes from the woman's face to stare at Doyle.

"She's down here?" The vampire asked incredulously. "She..."

"Lusted," Doyle said simply. The ancient queen drifted away, only to be replaced by a host of others. "Helen of Troy and her lover Paris. They never quite reach each other, you know. But they do get close, real close."

Spike felt tears threaten his eyes as he watched the tormented lovers. Helen bore more than a passing resemblance to Dru. His dark princess would have loved this anguish, though, unlike Helen.

"I know him!" Xander exclaimed as a young man spun past them. Spike reacted without thinking, snaking one out hand to grab the sufferer.

"Er, you're not supposed to do that," Doyle warned. Spike ignored him as he drew the dead guy near.

"Who're you?" Spike asked, wincing at the scratches that marred the man's face.

"Parker," The man moaned, obviously in great pain.

"You!" Xander growled. "I guess you got yours, huh?"

"Gee, thanks," Parker muttered. "Wish someone had told me that chasing girls was bad for my health," He continued. "Am I supposed to know you?"

"Remember Buffy?" Xander inquired harshly. "Short, blonde, beat you senseless with a tree branch?"

"Oh," Parker said dryly. "Her. What?" He continued when Xander glared. "You want me to apologize? I'M IN HELL!" Spike quirked one eyebrow. "Well, I think the locals call it Tartarus, but it's the same thing."

Spike rolled his eyes and let the young man go. "He's gonna be here a *long* time, isn't he?"

"With that attitude? I'd say so," Doyle replied.

"Much as I like watching former horndogs get theirs, can we go?" Xander inquired. He was pretty damned sure that if he stuck around here long enough, he'd see even more people he knew.

"Sure, come on," Doyle replied, leading them forward.

*****
Canto VI

[Xander and Spike's entrance into the Third Circle, where the Gluttonous, supine, are flailed by cold and filthy rain and tormented by Cerberus. The Pack and Tor's prophecy concerning Buffy. The state of the damned after repentance.]

Spike felt an absurd flood of relief when the vicious winds died down as they passed the boundary between circles. His relative peace was short-lived however, because as soon as they entered into the Third Circle, they were inundated by a torrent of foul muck. None of the three were spared; blinding rain struck Spike's eyes, stinging as dirty water filled those suffering orbs. Xander was driven to his knees as hail drilled into his back and shoulders. Spike crouched down over the young man, leaning forward to protect Xander's face and head from the stinging ice.

"This isn't for you," Doyle murmured, reaching for the two men. He'd forgotten that while the circles were meant to torture the dead, any living creatures who passed through would suffer also. How much they suffered depended on how much they'd succumbed to each particular type of evil. This was the first circle where either Xander or Spike had been affected to any great extent. He reached for them, pulling on their shoulders to make them stand. Their pain and anguish touched his soul, urging him to make this part of the trip as quickly as possible. No living creature deserved this horror.

Spike felt Doyle's hand and came back to himself. "Come on, Xan," He murmured to the shaking boy. "We've got to get going." Incredibly pale hands wrapped around Xander's waist and lifted him, pulling the young man upright despite the pounding hail.

Xander allowed himself a moment to bask in the unexpected but much-appreciated protection Spike provided him. For some reason, the unforgiving storm around them didn't seem so bad anymore. "I'm good," He murmured, stepping back. "Uh, where are we?"

"Third Circle," Doyle murmured. "It's where the gluttonous are forever tormented by this foul rain and ice." As if on cue, a gargantuan, three-headed dog bounded out of the darkness ahead of them. Xander squeaked and jumped behind Spike. The vampire automatically took a defensive stance.

The dog growled menacingly, each of its heads swiveling in a different direction. Saliva-covered jaws nipped and bit at the people crouched on the ground, opening deep gashes on their exposed flesh. Much to the threesome's relief, the beast completely ignored them.

"Cerberus," Spike whispered. "I thought he was a myth."

"I liked him better as Fluffy," Xander commented. One of the dog's heads turned to glance at Xander. The boy swore the animal grinned at him.

Doyle took up Xander's left hand and Spike's right, deciding that perhaps the primary school way of doing things was worth a shot. The two men followed him obediently, cowering right next to him as they pushed through the storm.

They'd gotten within sight of the next circle when Xander stopped. "I know these people," He exclaimed. And know them he did... a little too well. One of them looked up, recognizing Xander.

"Who's this?" Spike inquired, studying the youngish man in front of him.

"Xander knows," The man replied, wiping rain off his face.

"It's Tor," Xander said quietly. "And that's Heidi."

"What'd you do?" Spike asked the dead man.

"Ate the principal," Tor stated. "And a pig."

"An entire pig?" Doyle said incredulously. He didn't want to think about the 'principal' part.

"Well, Xander and the others helped with the pig..." Tor admitted. Spike and Doyle turned to stare at Xander, who was grimacing.

"Two words: Hyena Spirit," Xander muttered. "And I did *not* partake of Principal Flutie."

"Nah, you just sniffed around Buffy," Tor shot back. "Not that it did you any good. Or the vampire, for that matter," The boy continued. "She's meant to be alone, you know. That warrior, the angel? He's not for her either. The only thing that can keep the Slayer company is violence."

"What're you about?" Spike growled angrily. Who was this kid to talk about Buffy that way?

Tor shrugged. "Bad things are gonna happen, and soon," He said. "And the sooner all of you realize that she isn't going to protect you, that she doesn't have to, the better. The Slayer protects the innocent, and none of you are that."

Xander was about to demand that Tor continue, but his former pack-mate sank back to the ground, driven there by a strong blast of rain and hail. "Get up!" Xander demanded, shouting at Tor. He began to reach for the man, but Doyle stopped him.

"He won't be getting up again," Doyle told Xander. "Not until he repents."

"Why's that?" Spike asked as Doyle made them start walking again.

"Those who're down here are supposed to suffer until they repent, until they've gotten to where they can move on. For most, it'll be a long time," Doyle replied. "Talking to passers-by isn't part of the program."

"Do they stop suffering when they move on?" Xander asked Doyle.

Their guide paused for a moment. "Let's just say it's a different suffering, one they prefer over this."

At the edge of the gluttons' circle, the watery maelstrom ceased abruptly. Spike and Xander heaved a sigh of relief as they passed into a rather stark but quiet realm. Directly in front of them stood a towering, ornate chair. It looked like it could hold a giant and was covered in precious metals, encrusted with gems and jewels. "What's that?" Xander asked as they stared in awe at the thing.

"Plutus' throne," Doyle replied.

*****
Canto VII

[The god Plutus. The Fourth Circle, where the Avaricious and the Prodigal, in opposite directions, roll weights in semicircles. Fortuna and her ways. Descent into the Fifth Circle: the Wrathful and the Sullen, the former besmirched by the muddy Styx, the latter immersed in it.]

"Holy shit."

Spike drew Xander ever closer to him, silently echoing the boy's sentiment. Plutus was... impressive. Tall, gigantic in fact, covered with riches and jewels of every kind. The god glittered and shimmered with impossible light, sparkles shooting off the odd bit of finery that fluttered down to the ground. Each molted item disappeared as it struck the earth, fading into nothingness.

"Don't be afraid of him," Doyle murmured, coming around to stand on the other side of Spike. "He does the growling thing to intimidate the locals. He's really not so bad when he's not down here."

"So you've met him somewhere else?" Xander inquired shakily.

Doyle shrugged. "The gods aren't really stuck in any one place; you see them everywhere. But Plutus has a regular gig down here, you see."

Spike shuddered. "Who stays in this place?" He asked quietly. The shades here were moving in circles, pushing huge stones either clockwise or counterclockwise. They strained and groaned, shouting incomprehensible things at each other as they passed.

"The ones goin' left are the Avaricious, and the ones goin' right are the Prodigal," Doyle said softly. "They push the weight of their wrongs in front of them, and when they meet someone going the other way, they shout out their wrongdoings, and those of the others too."

"Then I'll see lots of people I know down here," Xander muttered, already thinking of how many deceased family members and other Sunnydale locals that belonged here. Greed was most of the Harris family's middle name, and that vice had killed many a young person on the Hellmouth.

Doyle pushed them along, darting in between the slowly moving sufferers. "It's not likely, Xander. Take a look at these people; the weight of their punishment mars them; all that mud and muck covers their faces."

"We wouldn't recognize ourselves in that, much less anybody else," Spike murmured. Xander shrugged and moved on with the others, forcibly not thinking about how good it felt to be held by Spike as they continued. Even though the ghosts' bodies were rendered unidentifiable by the foulness of their punishment, Xander could make out clerical collars and monk's robes amongst the greedy. If only his relatives had worn distinctive outfits...

"Just be glad Fortuna's smiling on you," Doyle remarked as they plowed through the mess.

"Fortuna?" Xander echoed.

"The goddess of luck and fortune," Doyle explained.

"There's a goddess of that?" Xander exclaimed. "No wonder I'm always getting the short end of the stick!"

Doyle grinned and helped Xander over a fallen sufferer. "Eh, it's not exactly like that. She doles out the fortune, yeah, but it's pretty well equal. What you make of what you get is more important," He said. "But she's a good sort, you know? Doesn't really pick on anyone too often. People just like to blame her for everything that goes wrong."

Soon they reached the banks of a swampy river, water inky and muddy. Xander felt Spike press against him and he returned the vampire's earlier favor, holding Spike close. Hordes of people were immersed in the waters, some just sort of sunk in it, others fully submerged.

Xander peered closer, realizing that what he'd thought were barren trees were really people, partially stuck in the river's shallows. The ones closer to the shore were flailing madly, arms and legs stuck and released and stuck again in the glue-like mud. They thrashed at each other, clawed hands and teeth ripping flesh off in bloody hunks. The others, the ones fully submerged, were trying to talk, but all that came up was great, heaving bubbles. The end result was a writhing, bubbling font of violence. "Er..."

"The wrathful and the sullen," Doyle whispered. "Tearing at each other, or having their woes drowned in foul water, as the case may be." The sight was gruesome enough to drive Doyle closer to the two huddling men. Spike looked a bit shaken, as though he pictured himself in this ring of Tartarus, suffering for his anger.

Xander and Spike followed Doyle around the edge of the brackish river, always avoiding that poisonous water. Eventually they came to the blunt stone base of a huge tower.

*****
Canto VIII

[Still the Fifth Circle: the Wrathful and the Sullen. The tall tower. Phlegyas and the crossing of the Styx. The Lunch Lady and Xander's fury. Approach to Dis, the lower part of Tartarus: its moat, its walls, its gate. The demons, fallen angels, and their obstruction of the travelers' entry into Dis.]

Spike huddled close to Xander, trying to hide some of his fear. The tortured dead in this circle cried and howled until the vampire's ears hurt from it. He couldn't help but wonder if perhaps this was his fate; after all, he was known for both his wrath and his sullenness.

"Nothing here is going to hurt you," Xander whispered, holding Spike more tightly. "Remember; Tara's watching out for us."

"Right," Spike murmured. For some reason, the presence of Xander's arms around him was more reassuring than the boy's mention of their benefactor.

Doyle placed a firm hand on both men's backs and guided them around the tower, which stretched high into the air. At the top were two flickering lights. "What's that?" Xander inquired, peering into the sky.

"You'll see soon enough," Doyle replied.

Spike's eyes widened as he saw a silvery swamp buggy fly towards them, pitching the wrathful around like leaves in a blowing wind. "I've got you now, my pretties!" A dry, crackling voice shouted. The vampire turned away from the sight of the disgusting demon who guided the boat.

"Sorry, Phlegyas, but we're on a mission. Tara gave us free passes across the Styx, so you've got to take us," Doyle said, halting the ferryman's tirade.

"Fine," Phlegyas grumbled, looking over the three men. "What's with him?" He asked, pointing to Spike. "He trying to decide which of our lovely suburbs he's gonna be moving into?"

Xander's eyes narrowed. "Stuff it, dead guy. Some of us still have souls, you know. Unlike you, we don't *have* to come here when we die." Even as he said the words, Xander wondered where they came from. Soulless or souled, he didn't make a habit of standing up for Spike. Of course, taking a day trip through Tartarus was as good a reason to engage in a bit of male bonding as Xander could think up.

Spike jerked a bit when Xander came to his defense. It wasn't what he'd been expecting, but neither was it unwelcome. Actually, hearing Xander speak up for him, while the boy held him in those strong, warm arms, made Spike's wounded soul turn over in interesting though not uncomfortable ways.

Doyle led Xander and Spike onto the boat. Phlegyas guided it into the murky waters, careful to hit a body here and there. Xander kept one eye on Spike and the other on the passing corpses. "Hey, you!" One mud-covered glob shouted. "I know you! Meatloaf special with mashed potatoes, every Wednesday for four years."

Xander craned his head to look at the woman. "You!" He hissed. "I know you. You tried to poison all of us!"

Doyle frowned. "She did what?"

"She was the lunch lady at our high school. Put poison in the chow one day, but we stopped her." Xander turned to look at the ranting, raving woman.

"Pigs, all of you! Disrespectful, foul-mouthed animals! At least you're down here getting what you deserve!"

Spike shuddered slightly as the woman screamed. "Can we watch her get torn to shreds? Can we, please?" Xander asked Doyle. "'Cause she's more than deserving of it."

"Yer not going to have to wait for long," Doyle warned. Just as he finished speaking, a throng of the wrathful came down on the lunch lady, tearing her into tiny pieces.

"Right," Spike whispered, looking away.

"Ok, ride's over. Everybody out," Phlegyas muttered, stopping the boat. Doyle led Xander and Spike onto the shore, where they could see the entrance to Dis. Xander thought it looked a bit like a science fiction movie; the city glowed a dull red, as though on fire, and a dark haze of soot hung low over it. They walked towards Dis, avoiding the deep ruts and iron railings that scarred the landscape.

Spike was the first to spot the mass of beings that stood between them and Dis. He was about to point them out to Xander when the wretched creatures began to speak.

"Who is this, who is not yet dead, who dares to enter our city?"

Doyle stepped to one side and motioned to the leader of the wraith-like beings. He spoke softly to it, while the others peered curiously at Xander and Spike.

"This one, he could stay," One said, pointing at Spike. "Dead, he is."

Xander moved to stand in front of Spike. "Doyle, man, how are those negotiations going?"

Doyle grimaced and shook his head. The raging, screaming wraiths gathered together and stormed into Dis, slamming the heavy gates behind them. "Not good, Xander. They're not going to just let us in; they don't want the living inside and they say that if I go in, they won't let me out again."

Spike whimpered. "What're we gonna do?"

Doyle cocked his head to one side and glanced up. "We'll wait here for Tara to send some help. Shouldn't take too long."

*****
Canto IX

[The gates of Dis. Spike's fear. The three Furies, invoking Medusa. Doyle's warning to Xander and Spike lest they look at the Gorgon, Medusa's head. A celestial messenger. The flight of the fallen and the demons. Entry into Dis, where Xander, Spike and Doyle reach the Sixth Circle and its Arch-Heretics, entombed in red-hot sepulchers.]

"Oh," Xander whispered, shivering slightly. Spike buried his face in the boy's neck, hiding from the fierce glares of invisible eyes. He could feel them boring into him. Doyle saw their fear and tried to swallow his own. It wouldn't do any good to make them hysterical by acting like a coward. He held himself strongly and turned back to them.

"We'll win this one," Doyle told the pair. "If not... Well, we will! We just have to wait for help to get here."

Xander crooned tunelessly, soothing the now shaking vampire. He could tell that Doyle was scared; who wouldn't be? Maybe it was his sudden, inexplicable desire to comfort Spike that made Xander want to wrap an arm around Doyle and assure the ghost that everything would be alright. "So, how often do people from your circle--the no-hopers-- come out this way?" Xander asked, hoping to distract Doyle.

It didn't work. Doyle shuddered uncontrollably for a long moment. The Irishman slowly regained his composure, but Xander could see tears threatening to fall. "No, we don't come down here much. This isn't my first trip, though. The witch Erichtho sent me to the lowest circle to fetch a Judas. It wasn't a pleasant experience." He glanced around the dismal area. "This swamp is one of the most desolate places in all of Tartarus. Never touch the waters, they breed anger and rage. Neither the dead nor the living are..."

Doyle's voice faded into nothingness and Xander leaned forward to catch the last words. He stopped when Spike stiffened and moaned. "What is it, Spike?" Xander asked, cradling the vampire close.

"Furies," Spike whispered, looking over Xander's shoulders, at the tower they'd passed. Xander turned slightly to take in the sight. Three once-beautiful women stood on the edge of the tower, glaring down at the men. Verdant snakes wrapped around their torsos and twined in their hair.

"The Erinyes," Doyle murmured. "Megaera, Allecto and Tisiphone." He shivered as they pointed at him and the others.

"Medusa!" The Furies shouted. "Come down here! There is fresh blood, blood of the living who have never seen you, and one of the dead who has escaped your beauty once before!"

Doyle grabbed Spike and Xander, throwing them to the ground. "Cover your eyes," He ordered, rolling them onto their stomachs. "Don't look at anything, especially not her face. She'll turn you into stone, and you'll be stuck here forever."

"What about you? She can hurt you too, can't she?" Xander asked as Doyle covered his face with a rather solid, warm palm. Spike pressed himself into Xander's embrace, hiding his face in the boy's chest. The vampire's demon was whimpering in his mind, cowering behind his soul.

"I'll be fine," Doyle insisted as he covered the two men completely. It was his job to get them out alive, not save his sorry ass. Still, he couldn't repress a spurt of warm gratitude when Xander hauled him down to join the two men on the ground. They twined together in a mass of warm and cool bodies, faces safely tucked away. Between Doyle and Xander, Spike finally ceased shivering.

Screaming, vicious wails rose from the Styx and wind whipped over the ground. Xander huddled with the others, back turned against the onslaught. The young man felt something wet on his neck and realized that Spike was crying. Xander tightened his hold on Spike once again. They needed to get through with this ordeal soon; he wasn't sure how much more Spike could take of this place. He had a feeling that the vampire really was afraid that he'd end up here--and if all his past atrocities got counted, he would. Xander couldn't make himself think that Spike deserved this kind of hell, though. Then again, from what little he'd seen of Doyle, he didn't think their guide warranted it either. The man was too kind, too brave, too... well, too levelheaded.

Doyle felt a telltale shift in the air. "Xander, get up," He ordered. "Look into the mist."

Xander decided to trust Doyle and lifted up, bringing Spike with him. The two men stared into the seething miasma, watching as a form solidified out of it. "The messenger," Spike whispered. As soon as he spoke, a tall, dark skinned man strode out of the fog.

He walked right by the three men as he approached the gates. "That's Forrest," Xander murmured to Spike and Doyle. He was happy to see that Riley's buddy hadn't suffered in the afterlife for what had happened in Sunnydale.

Forrest stopped right in front of the gates. "Who the hell do you think you are? You got kicked out of the Summerlands; you've got no right to interfere with the business of those we claim as our own. Let them pass or you'll get the business end of a whole bunch of pissed off warriors!"

The gates swung open and Doyle jumped up, dragging Xander and Spike with him. They walked past Forrest, who acknowledged them with a curt nod before disappearing into the fog.

As soon as the entered the fortress, Xander wished they'd remained outside, forever thwarted. Steaming, seething pits of red-hot metal lined the walkways. Thick vapor stinking of charred flesh rose and swirled in the air, choking the boy. Spike waved the steam away from Xander's face, wincing in sympathy. "Doyle? Do I want to know?" Xander asked.

"Probably not, but I'll tell you anyway," Doyle murmured. "They're the arch-heretics; those who betrayed their chosen paths with self-centred and blind greed." Spike peered into the sepulchers, noting the high concentration of religious figures. It seemed that in death these figures were all draped in the official clothes of their professions. He also spotted quite a few Watchers, obvious for the symbols of office they wore around their necks.

Xander nodded and moved on, Spike in tow.

*****
Canto X

[Still the Sixth Circle: the Heretics. The tombs of the Watchers. The stories of Watchers past. One Watcher's prediction of Spike and Xander's difficulty in returning to Sunnydale. The inability of the damned to see the present, although they can foresee the future.]

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.

*****