[Still the Sixth Circle. The First Watcher's tomb. Dante on the parts of Dis they will now visit, where the modes of malice are punished: violence in the Seventh Circle's Three Rings; 'ordinary' fraud in the Eighth Circle; and treacherous fraud in the Ninth Circle. Tartarus' previous circles; Two through Five, as circles of Incontinence. Usury condemned.]

"Careful," Spike murmured as he caught Xander. The boy had stumbled over the rocky ground as they approached the border between circles. The foul stench that permeated the heretics' resting place was growing progressively worse, so that Spike was loathe to speak a word, lest he be forced to breathe in a draught of the noxious fumes. Xander wasn't so lucky; he had to breathe constantly and was turning green from nausea.

Doyle took pity on the boy. "Er, mebbe we should rest here for a bit, eh?"

Xander nodded gratefully and sat down on a nearby boulder, glancing at the ornate tomb that butted against it. 'Who's that for?" He asked Doyle.

The Irishman settled next to Xander on the rock, pulling Spike down to sit between them. "The First Watcher," He replied. "They had heresy issues as soon as the group began."

"No kidding," Xander panted. He wrapped an arm around Spike, encouraging the vampire to lean against him. Spike did so immediately, eyes drifting shut as he tried to relax. Xander rubbed his fingers in slow circles on the blonde's arm, rocking gently. He was well and truly worried for Spike; the vampire was putting himself through the ringer, letting his guilt and remorse rule him. "So, are we just gonna sit here, or what?"

Doyle thought for a moment. It would be good to give the guys some warning as to what they were going to see in the lower parts of Dis. Then again, he didn't want to reduce Spike into a gibbering idiot either. After a moment's thought though, he decided that the vampire could handle it. Maybe it would even toughen him somewhat against the sights he would see.

"I guess I could tell you about the rest of Dis," He said quietly. "I figure if I tell you now, we can get through them a little faster, you know? And you won't be as shocked, either."

Spike whimpered but nodded. It was a good idea, even to the tortured vampire. Doyle moved closer to him and Xander, sharing an understanding grimace with the young man. "I'm game," Xander murmured, giving Doyle the go-ahead.

"Just beyond these rocks are three circles," Doyle began, "All involving fraud of some kind. Since fraud is something peculiar to humans and other higher-order demons, it gets placed lower down." He paused briefly, waiting for Xander to catch his breath. Every time the boy thought he was ok, the stench got worse.

"The outermost circle is for the violent," The Irishman explained. "But they're split up three ways, since a body can do violence against three victims: your chosen higher being, your self, and your neighbor. That includes the property of your self and your neighbors, as well as all higher beings."

"Regardless of religion?" Xander inquired.

Doyle nodded. "It's no sin to be an atheist. But if you do choose to worship a higher power, you're bound to it. And anyone can suffer for destroying holy places. Just like you can be violent against your self, squandering your possessions, drinking yourself stupid, or killing yourself."

"Suicide'll get you down here?" Xander asked curiously.

"Sometimes yes, sometimes no," Doyle admitted. "Depends on why the person did it. Part of that circle has the murderers, thieves and robbers--people who are violent against others."

"Sounds lovely," Spike muttered. "Where do bad vampires go?"

"Everywhere," Doyle replied. "We've seen plenty already. But there are a lot of vampires in the Seventh Circle. There were a lot in with the gluttons too, though." Spike shuddered, so Doyle held him closer.

"The next circle, the Eighth, is for simple fraud. Funny thing, that, simple fraud. It's the biggest single circle in all of Tartarus, and the most complicated." He paused to check on Xander, who seemed to be improving a little. "But it's also a fun one, don't get me wrong. You'll see hypocrites, flatterers, sorcerers, falsifiers, simonies, barrators, panderers, and the like."

"Er, what are simonies?" Xander asked.

"'S a pope who sells positions in the church," Spike replied. "An' barrators are ambulance chasers."

"Fun shit," Xander agreed. "Any televangelists down with the simonies?"

Doyle grinned. "They're everywhere in the Eighth Circle. "

"But I'm confused," Xander commented. "Why aren't all the people back in the marsh down in these nasty places? I mean, I didn't think that it could get any worse, but it has."

Doyle sighed. He'd sort of been expecting this. "Well, see... those people back in the first circles, what they're really guilty of is weakness. Incontinence, and you can just cut out all the bathroom jokes right now. They didn't bother to get control of their impulses. Frauds, though, they targeted a mark, made their move, and..." He stopped when he saw how badly shaken Spike was. The blonde was clenching his hands convulsively, quaking like a leaf.

"I gotcha," Xander whispered. "Hey, Spike?"

"What?" Spike murmured.

Xander gave the vampire a hug. "You're not gonna get stuck here, I swear. If anyone so much as looks at you funny, me an' Doyle will tear them apart."

"Yep, can't be having you stuck here. You've got a date with this curvy blonde up in the Summerlands," Doyle added. "And on that note, we'd better get going. Well, if Xander can stand to breathe."

"I'm good here," Xander replied, easing himself and Spike off the boulder. Doyle assisted the vampire and soon they were skirting sepulchers and huge rocks, heading for the fraudulent.

*****
Canto XII

[The Seventh Circle, First Ring: the Violent against their Neighbors. The Minotaur. The Centaurs, led by Chiron, who assigns Nessus to guide Xander, Spike and Doyle across the boiling river of blood (Phlegethon). In that river, Tyrants and Murderers, immersed, watched over by Centaurs.]

"Damn," Xander whispered. "This place is..."

"It looks like an earthquake hit," Spike finished for him. They stood on a ledge, looking out over an alpine vista of tumbled boulders the size of mountains. The vampire jumped when he saw an enormous, raging beast tearing through the barren landscape.

"Easy now," Doyle murmured, keeping himself in front of the other two men. He felt Spike press against him and knew that Xander was watching the vampire's back. "That's the Minotaur. I'm sure you know the story, so I won't bore you with the details."

"Regardless of any cow-costumes and bull-stuff, we do have to get past that, right?" Xander inquired, watching the animal froth and foam. He didn't see any real reason to want to do that, other than to get out of this hellish place.

Doyle looked around briefly. "This damage is pretty recent, actually. I'm thinking it's because of some stuff that's gone on up top, in your world." He frowned. "Maybe if we run right when he's heading that way, we can make it to the river," He continued, pointing to where the Minotaur began to circle a small mountain of rubble.

Xander nodded and reached for Spike's hand. The vampire pushed his hand away, only to turn back around and pick Xander up bodily. Doyle began running, his pace far speedier than a human's. Spike simply carried Xander as they made their way past the vicious animal and hit the banks of the Phlegethon.

"That went well," Xander said as Spike set him down gently. "And eww... is that blood?" He asked, grimacing at the boiling river in front of him.

"Er..." Doyle began. "Chiron? Joyce sent--"

"I know," Chiron said, wading through the river to step onto the bank. Another centaur followed him out. "Doyle, Xander, Spike." The man's head bowed respectfully. "I believe Nessus will carry you over. Do be watchful of the arrows; it is ever our duty to maintain the punishment of the violent."

Xander accepted Chiron's help in climbing on Nessus' back. "Oh, sorry," He mumbled as his sneakers dug into the beast's sides.

"It's not a problem," Nessus said obligingly. Spike was soon sitting behind Xander, pulling the human back to lean against him. When Doyle climbed up, he pressed tight against the vampire and motioned to Chiron.

"Get them across," Chiron directed, waving Nessus off.

Xander drew his feet up as the blood rose to swirl around Nessus' chest. They were on a ford, but the river was rushing so quickly that the liquid threatened to overtake them. "You do this very often?" He asked Nessus, ducking to avoid a huge spray of blood.

"Yes, but it is not often this bad," Nessus answered. "The bad stuff in your world is wrecking havoc down here."

"Oh. So... what did these people do again?" Xander inquired.

"They murdered," Spike whispered. "There's the Master, see?" He pointed to a bald head that barely stuck out of the water. As they stared, another centaur shot an arrow into that egg-shaped skull.

"And that one, he's Mr. Trick, the Mayor's lackey," Xander exclaimed. "Actually, there are a lot of vampires in here."

"More here than almost anywhere," Doyle confirmed. "Since most vampires don't progress much past the usual murder and mayhem. You'll see some lower down, though."

"If they made a name for themselves?" Spike inquired hesitantly. Xander hugged him with warm arms and whispered that Spike had better stop planning on taking swimming lessons. There would be no synchronized blood-swimming for the blonde vampire, not on Xander's watch.

Doyle shrugged. "Dunno." He winced as Nessus took aim at a handsome, dark-haired young man who was clawing and screaming at another sufferer.

"Woman! Thieving, lying woman! Bane of man, you whore--" Nessus' arrow silenced the man's raging, and he sank back down into the river.

"Uck, that's nasty," Xander said. "I saw brains on that one."

Nessus soon reached the far bank and knelt so that the men could slide off. "Head down that path," He said, indicating one of several cuts in the rocky soil. Xander and Spike watched as he waded off into the river, back towards Chiron.

"So, what's next, oh fearless leader?" Xander asked Doyle as he took up Spike's hand and began down the path behind Doyle.

*****
Canto XIII

[The Seventh Circle, Second Ring: the Violent against Themselves (Suicides) or against their Possessions (Squanderers). The dreary wood, with the Suicides transformed into strange trees, and the Squanderers, hounded and rent by bitches. Ford and Liam. Many suicides.]

Doyle stopped briefly to let Xander and Spike catch up to him. The ghostly man saw the vampire's distress, so he took up position on his right side, leaving Xander to flank the blonde's left. They continued down the path, picking their way though what quickly became a dark, twisted forest with no clear route.

A high, cracking screech made all three men jump. Xander took Spike into his arms, even as Doyle's ever-watchful eyes scanned the skies.

"Harpies," He said, grimacing. Xander followed Doyle's gaze, taking in the fearsome sight.

"Will they attack us?" Xander inquired, seeing sharp and bloody claws.

Doyle shook his head. "No. They're here to punish everyone in the second ring--where we are now. It lasts until we hit sand." The half-demon reached over, drawing Spike out. "It's ok, Spike. They won't do anything to you."

Spike glanced up at the sky. Fearsome creatures circled overhead, oily black wings fluttering in an unseen breeze. Gory, gruesome human faces contrasted with avian bodies, creating a truly heart-rending picture. "They're building a nest," He commented, pointing at a huge pile of tree branches some distance off.

"Helps with their work," Doyle replied cryptically. Ever more of the keening wails floated through the woods, so he urged them on.

It didn't take long for Xander's curiosity to get the better of him. He kept hearing these cries--ones that weren't the harpies--but he couldn't see anyone. The woods were thick and imposing, but abandoned.

Doyle caught Xander's gaze just before the boy spoke. "You want to know who's screaming?" He asked. "Break off a leaf or two from one of these trees."

Spike frowned in confusion as Xander reached out. As soon as the slick black leaf was in his palm, blood began to well out of the wounded branch.

"Damn it, that hurt!"

Both Spike and Xander jumped back. Thick, rich blood dripped down onto the ground as the tree continued to bleed. "What the hell did you do that for? Are you some kind of sadist, getting off on torture? I'm a person, you know, and I thought that a human like you would be a little more fucking sympathetic!"

Xander's eyes darted from the leaf in his hand to the tree. He backed up to bump against Spike, who held him firmly.

"Calm down," Doyle told the tree. "He didn't know who you were, that's all. Now that you're bleeding, though..." He shifted back, because the blood was getting pretty messy. "Why don't you tell them who you are? They might be able to find someone who knew you up above."

Spike reached for Doyle, dragging him close. "That tree is *bleeding*," He hissed frantically.

"I'm the guy who watched over my best bud Freddy, made sure he didn't fall in love or leave me alone. He didn't trust nobody but me, ya know? But then this bitch, she got in good with him when I wasn't looking and then everyone hated me 'coz she told them I was funny that way. She told him I was trying to steal his dough, but I wasn't! I loved Freddy; I'd never hurt him!"

Doyle saw that Xander and Spike had gotten caught up in the story, so when the tree fell silent, he urged them on. "Look, now's your chance. Talk to him while he's still bleeding; one he's stopped its all over."

Xander nodded and swallowed. "Does Freddy know how much you love him? And how did you end up here?"

"I wrote him a letter, so I hope he does," The tree answered. "As to how I got here, well... This is where Minos sends those of us who took matters into our own hands, if you get my drift. He finds a suicide, he tosses it over here. Wherever we land, we put down roots. If it weren't for the harpies, we'd look like regular trees, but they do a fucking godawful pruning job. Bonzai from hell, eh?"

Spike was about to ask the tree one more question when a loud roar echoed through the woods. A pack of dogs raced through the woods, tearing and dragging corpses with them. As they passed, each dog reached out and bit branches off various trees, causing a cacophony of pitiful wails--the sounds Xander had heard earlier.

Doyle led Xander and Spike to an enclave of trees, somewhat away from the massacre. The three men watched as the dogs tore their victims to shreds, rending them limb from limb. Once the dogs were gone, Doyle drew them over to what was left of the bodies.

"Ford!" Xander gasped, staring down at the still-recognizable face. "He's..."

"Spike?" Doyle murmured, concerned by the horrified expression on the vampire's face. "What is it?"

Spike pointed a shaking finger at the other victim. Xander and Doyle turned to it, studying the face briefly before recognition hit.

"But Angel's not dead!" Xander exclaimed. His eyes refused to change what they saw, however. He let Spike hug him tightly, knowing that the sight of the blonde's Sire had to be intensely disturbing.

"It's not Angel," Doyle said, coming around to hold the two men. "It's Liam."

"Liam?" Xander asked. "Who's that?"

"Angel, before he was turned," Spike whispered.

"But I thought he got his soul back," Xander questioned, extremely confused.

"He did," Doyle replied. "But Liam the person was a squanderer, and he died. This is where he stays." He took one last look at the young man below him before urging his charges along towards the burning sands.

*****
Canto XIV

[The Seventh Circle, Third Ring: the Violent against God. The First Zone: Blasphemers, supine on fiery Sands. The Judge and Glory. Doyle on the Old Man of Crete, whose streaming tears form the rivers of Tartarus: Acheron, Phlegethon, Styx, and Cocytus. The sight of Lethe postponed.]

Xander took one last look at the suicide-trees and Liam's torn body. He pulled away from the others and went back, collecting discarded boughs along the way. When he reached Angel's human form, Xander covered it with the branches, hiding it from the prying eyes and razor-fangs of the wild dog pack.

"White Knight," Spike murmured as Xander rejoined them. The young man shrugged and walked behind Doyle, noting how the trees were thinning out and the soil was becoming sandier.

"Wow, talk about a psycho beach party," Xander said as the three men came upon the next part of Tartarus. In front of them stretched a wide expanse of glowing, shimmering sand. On the sand were bodies of every description--old and young, tall and short, male and female. Each one was lying down in the dry, dusty stuff, quivering and jerking as fire rained down on them.

"Er, Doyle?" Xander called out. "Got a minor problem here. I left my asbestos aloha shirt at home." Delicate flakes of fire floated through the dark sky, making idle trails through the fetid air. It looked like snow--someone's bad acid-trip idea of snow, of course. The damned upon the sand reached out with charred hands to put out each flame as it fell, at the same time trying to avoid as many of the flames as possible as they landed on their sooty backs.

"Hmm..." Doyle hummed, wondering how they were going to cross this next part. Perhaps if they went very quickly...

Spike glanced back towards the woods. Maybe they could make some sort of cover... He was about to strip out of his duster and offer it up as a canopy when something struck him on the head. "Fuck!" He screeched, catching the item instinctively. The screech of a harpy punctuated his invective as she flew away, flapping madly.

"What the hell..." Xander started, looking at what Spike was holding. The long, narrow package was wrapped in what looked like baby-shower paper; little cherubs and clouds covered the material with a shiny glint.

"It's from Tara," Doyle said decisively, peering around Xander.

"How do you know?" Xander inquired.

"The paper," Doyle replied. "Where else around here are you going to get something that..."

"Bloody cute," Spike finished, ripping the paper off. The contents of their parcel sent the vampire into paroxysms of laughter. Both Doyle and Xander tried to peer into it, but Spike was doubled over, hiding the gift.

"Spike!" Xander said loudly, reaching around the blonde. "Come on, give it up!" Doyle joined in, trying everything they knew to get the parcel out of Spike's twitching, grasping arms. They tickled, but that just made Spike crouch down more. Xander attempted to yank Spike's arms up, while Doyle grabbed his legs, but that just sent Xander to the ground as well, straddling Spike's lap. Doyle was jarred by the maneuver, so he stood up. However, he overbalanced and ended up between the two men, cradled in their arms.

"Fancy meeting you here," Spike said, still laughing madly. He rocked back enough to sit down, taking pressure off his feet.

"Give it up, Spike," Xander said, moving his arm up to support Doyle's neck. "What's in the package?"

"Doyle's sitting on it," Spike replied, wriggling under the ghost's body. "It'd be easier if ghosts were actually ghostly down here," He remarked. Doyle tried to lift up a bit, so that Spike could retrieve the parcel.

"Wouldn't be as much fun," Xander reminded him. "So, what made you laugh so hard?"

Spike revealed the parcel with a flourish. A single press of a button opened up an enormous, black umbrella.

"Fuck," Doyle said, staring at the thing. "Gonna have to have a talk with that girl."

"Shh..." Xander whispered. "Having a serious Mary Poppins moment here."

Doyle shook his head. "Nah, she's farther down." He managed to lever himself onto his feet, taking hold of the umbrella. Spike and Xander stood up as well, huddling with Doyle under their new protection. The ghost led them onto the sands, noting that the fiery rain simply slid off the umbrella without leaving a single mark.

"So," Xander started, looking around. "Just what did..." His voice dropped off for a moment as he recognized one of the people on the sands. "Glory?"

"Blasphemers," Doyle said succinctly. "They lie on burning sands, forever subject to raining fire."

Glory looked up at Xander, seeming at first to recognize him. However, he soon realized that she could see nothing at all; her eyes were burned to nothingness.

"Pretending to be a god is definitely blasphemous," Spike marked as he urged them all along. Though the sights around him were bothersome, this ring of Tartarus didn't affect him as much as the others. His very existence as a vampire was a blasphemy, so he figured his final resting place would be based on something more serious than that.

"Isn't that the Judge?" Xander asked Spike, pointing out towards a large figure.

"Looks to be that way," Spike confirmed. "Hard to believe that blasphemy is the worst thing he ever did, though."

"Oh, just you wait," Doyle warned. He saw that they'd stopped again, so he urged them on.

"Er, guys? Could you wait up?" Xander asked. "'Cause I've got a problem here."

Spike turned back to look at Xander, who was huddling at the edge of their umbrella. "What is it?"

Xander picked up one foot--which dripped a gooey black substance. "My shoes are melting." The sands glimmered because they were extremely hot, and his shoes weren't holding up too well. Apparently Spike's were in better shape.

Spike frowned, thinking quickly. He reached out and picked Xander up, draping the boy's back over one arm and his knees over the other. "Better?"

Xander wriggled a bit to get comfortable. "Yeah, even with the whole unmanly-being-carried-by-another-guy thing," He replied. "Of course, if we start to factor in all those times you--"

Spike growled and began to walk. "Harris, you would bring that up."

Doyle just laughed. "You two are cute, you know that?"

Neither Xander nor Spike deigned to reply to that statement. They simply slogged through the sands, watching the blasphemous try to protect themselves. A few minutes later, Doyle stopped at the banks of a stream. The sands looked cooler, so Spike let Xander stand on his own.

"Hey, Doyle?" Xander called out. "That stream, it's made of blood." It looked a lot like a miniature version of the one the Centaurs had carried them across. The path they would walk ran next to the crimson waters.

"It's Phlegethon," Doyle confirmed, nodding.

"Where's it coming from?" Xander inquired, peering into the waters.

"Old Man of Crete," Spike murmured softly.

"Yeah," Doyle said. "He's under Mount Ida."

"And he makes rivers?" Xander asked.

Doyle took Xander's and Spike's hands, leading them on the path. "Story time again, boys. The Old Man of Crete has a gold head, silver arms, bronze stomach, iron legs, and a clay foot. Most of his body is all cracked up, though. He cries all the time, and those tears form the four rivers of Tartarus--Acheron, Phlegethon, Styx and Cocytus."

"What about Lethe?" Spike asked curiously.

"That's for later on," Doyle said seriously. "It's where the repentant go to wash away their sins. Come on," He urged, making them walk faster. "If it's ok with you, I'd like to get going."

*****
Canto XV

[Still the Seventh Circle, Third Ring: the Violent against God. Second Zone: those who commit Incest, endlessly crossing the fiery sands beneath the rain of fire, tearing at each other. Xander's father.]

"What's the wall for?" Xander asked, peering over the low stone structure. The sands were cooler here, so his shoes were simply gummy and not melted. On the far side of the wall was the river of blood, swirling and steaming.

"Well, nobody down here wants to give these people any relief," Doyle replied, gesturing towards the next group of tortured spirits. They were stumbling and loping across the sand, their hands raised to shield their faces from raining, fiery hail. Whenever two of these people encountered each other, they raked their hands down, tearing huge strips of flesh from their naked bodies. They consumed the torn flesh, gore and spittle covering them from nose to knee. The molten rain seemed to pour down harder on these most vicious ones, burning them to a crisp.

"I take it these guys are worse than blasphemers?" Spike asked quietly, making sure that the umbrella completely covered all three of them. "Although the last bit was pretty bad."

Doyle nodded, his frown severe. "Oh, they're much worse. These are the incestuous; those parents who would force themselves upon their innocent children." He grimaced as one figure lifted a handful of sand to his mouth, shoving the dusty material into his mouth.

Spike watched the people with no trace of pity in his eyes. This act was one he, even at his most depraved, could not condone. Children, particularly young ones, trusted their parents with absolute faith. The destruction of that by such repugnant means was worth ten thousand times this torture.

"A long time ago," Doyle continued as he began to walk again, "These people were housed lower, with others who betrayed their kin."

"Why were they moved up?" Spike asked harshly. He couldn't imagine any reason for letting them off lightly.

Doyle's smile was malicious. "Those who made this place decided that such parents deserved a more... active form of torture, something that burned hot instead of cold."

Spike nodded in understanding. From what he'd seen, going deeper and deeper into Tartarus didn't always make the tortures progressively worse, just... more interesting. They'd passed several rent, screaming figures when the vampire noticed that Xander was following along silently, not entertaining them with his usual banter. "Xander?" He called out.

Xander came up to stand next to Spike. "Hmm?"

"You're quiet," The blonde murmured.

"I'm kinda tired," The young man admitted. "How much farther do we have in this part?" He asked Doyle. "And is there any place we can take a nap?"

Doyle studied the young man carefully. "You really don't want to sleep around here, Xander. Purgatory shouldn't be as bad, though."

"Oh, ok," Xander mumbled. He fell back behind Spike as they shuffled through the sand, avoiding tiny bits of flamey flesh that littered the ground.

One particularly nasty individual caught Spike's eye and he stopped walking. "Hey, Doyle?"

"Yeah?" Doyle said. "What is it?"

"That guy, he's only half there," Spike replied, pointing. "And he's getting ripped to shreds." Indeed, the man's back was little more than a bloody gob of bones and flesh. Fire sizzled as it hit, and dark blotches of sand rubbed into each wound.

Doyle shuddered convulsively. "That's because he's still alive," The ghost responded. "Whatever he did was bad enough to earn a reservation ahead of time." Indeed, even the other damned seemed to target the shade, each one removing a huge handful of skin and muscle as they walked past.

"Er..." Xander mumbled. "That's gross. Can we... you know, get the fuck out of here?"

Spike and Doyle traded a quick glance, but acceded to Xander's wishes. They walked faster, moving aside to skirt the not-quite-dead-yet man next to them. Unfortunately, their passage did not go unnoticed.

"You!"

The three men stopped and turned as one. It was only by the grace of Spike's quick reflexes that he managed to catch Xander before he fell to the ground.

"Dad."

*****
Canto XVI

[Still the Seventh Circle, Third Ring, Second Zone: Xander's father. Spike's invectives against himself and Anthony Harris. Doyle uses Xander's belt to summon a monster from the deep.]

"Your father?" Spike whispered, unblinking eyes boring into the figure on the sand. "*That* is your father?"

"Damn straight he's my boy!" Anthony Harris said, spitting out a few teeth. "Useless sonofabitch, come over here!"

Xander tried to nod, but he couldn't. His father was a seething, roiling mass of wounds and gritty blood. All of a sudden, Spike's arms around him were constricting. He had to get away, had to escape this vision. The young man pushed, but nothing happened. Spike ignored him completely.

"Did he..." Doyle's green eyes flashed between Spike and the man he was questioning--Xander. The Irish ghost was both worried and furious. The presence of Xander's father--Xander's not-dead-yet father--in this place meant exactly one thing.

"N-no," Xander stuttered, shaking all over. "N..n...n..."

"You're his only child, Xander," Spike hissed, teeth gnashing. "How old were you, Xander? How old? What did he do? Huh?" Anthony merely laughed at the vampire, flicking fire away from his arms.

"Let me go," Xander growled, twisting madly. "He's not--"

"Irish," Spike shouted, tossing Xander over to Doyle. "Take care of him." Before either Xander or Doyle could intervene, Spike was on the man. Soon the two were a writhing whirlwind of fire and blood as Spike tore Anthony Harris limb from limb, screaming at the top of his lungs.

"Fucking shithead! Touching your own son, raping him! Do you know what that makes you?" Spike shouted, digging his fingers into the man's chest. A still-beating heart soon lay on the sand, sizzling as fire hit it. "Not even demons do that, you bastard. I should fucking know. Even vampires don't fuck babies. Kill them, yeah. Feed from them, without a second thought. But nobody, *nobody* fucks their own children!"

Doyle settled Xander on the sand, keeping the boy's limbs underneath the protective umbrella. Spike was being burned by the fire, bits of flame in his hair and clothes. They had to do something--Spike was destroying Xander's father, and the vampire wasn't in much better shape. Before long, he'd be covered in flames.

"Spike," Doyle called out. "You've gotta stop, man. This isn't doing any good." Indeed, it wasn't--Xander was weeping openly, trying to bury himself underneath the dusty ground.

Wild eyes caught Doyle's. "Isn't it?" He asked, fingers clenching rhythmically. "He deserves to suffer."

"At your hands?" The ghost asked harshly. "At what cost to you? Violence begets violence an' all that. Think about it, Spike."

"Think about it? About the cost to me?" Spike screamed. "I'm a vampire. I will come here when I die. There is no cost to me. This man," He shouted, holding up Anthony's arm, "Raped Xander. He must be *punished* for it. He has to hurt. To bleed. Suffer."

Doyle felt tears well up in his eyes. Spike was willing to give up any chance of redemption for the man huddled upon the ground. Doyle himself wanted nothing more than to see Anthony Harris roasted on a pit of coals, but that wouldn't do any good. What Spike was doing might have made him feel better, but it was killing Xander. Each blow, each bit of flesh, made Xander cry ever harder.

"Spike."

Spike heard Xander's voice and paused. "Xander?"

"Don't," Xander pleaded, unable to look at what Spike had done. "Please don't."

Spike dropped Anthony Harris, the man forgotten as he rushed over to Xander's side. Doyle knelt over him, patting out the last bits of fire. Xander tried to touch Spike, but the blood covering him made the young man recoil. "You're..." Xander whispered, fingers dragging over sticky cloth.

"Shh," Doyle murmured, rocking both men. Xander leaned against Doyle. Spike watched for a moment before turning away. Doyle stopped him, gathering the vampire close. They sat underneath the umbrella, three broken men and their tears, until Spike's victim had put himself back together and moved away.

"He's gone," Xander said, finally putting a hand in one of Spike's.

"We should go," Doyle said. "We're nearly out of this part anyway." He let go of Spike and Xander, picking up the umbrella. The vampire picked Xander up, helping him to his feet. They walked across the sands, carefully avoiding everyone they encountered.

Xander's eyes were so focused on the ground that he almost walked right into the water in front of him. Spike managed to stop the young man, bringing Xander against his chest. Doyle's arm shot out to slap against Xander's middle, further protecting him from falling.

"Er, thanks," Xander mumbled. "That wouldn't have been fun."

"No shit," Doyle said. He looked out over the water, thinking. "Hey, Xander?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I borrow your belt?"

"Sure," The young man said, unbuckling it. "Why?"

Doyle smiled weakly. "I'm gonna go fishing."

*****
tbc