•••

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.