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.