"Well, interesting is one word for it," Spike commented.

Xander nodded his agreement. The ground before them was carved into circular trenches, surrounding an ominous-looking center. The boulders and broken stones that dotted the landscape were gone, replaced by walls and bridges--and demons. He could see them wandering here and there, carrying pointy weapons.

"How're we supposed to do this?" Xander asked Doyle.

Doyle shrugged. "I think we just walk through. Er... Don't fall in, ok?"

Spike watched as heavy clouds of smoke billowed up from somewhere in the distance. The rancid stench of burning flesh continued to burn his nose, but the new smells of feces and old blood now added a fullness to the nauseating perfume of Tartarus. He winced as Xander placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry," Xander said, retreating guiltily.

"It's ok," Spike whispered, edging closer to the boy. Doyle took one last look at the vampire's wound before taking both men in hand and leading them towards the path. Both of them looked ready to drop, but rest just wasn't an option.

Doyle led Xander and Spike to a narrow, arched pathway over the first trench. Xander clasped Spike's hand so hard the vampire felt bones grinding together. The bridge had no rails, and each step sent bits of gravel and dirt falling into the space below. As the pebbles fell, voices echoed up to the travelers.

"No more! Leave us alone!"

Doyle made to continue, but both Spike and Xander stopped dead. They anxiously peered over the bridge, where naked and blood-covered people ran around and around, tormented by demons. Every so often, the damned would be struck by a mace, whip or flail, wielded by a foul-mouthed demon.

"Miss French?" Xander mumbled. "She's..."

"A seducer," Doyle finished. "They run, chased by demons. It's bad now, but stopping's worse."

Xander just stared. "Ampatta..." He whispered as another woman ran by.

A distinctive face caught Spike's eye. "Now, can't say as that's a surprise," He murmured. "I take it that's Darla's soul?" He asked Doyle. "Since her demon's up top?"

Doyle squinted, looking down into the murky depths. "Yeah, that's her soul. Wasn't she a prostitute?"

Spike nodded. He noted that the demons had taken note of them, and were closing in. "Think we should get moving?" He asked Doyle, gesturing towards the torturers.

"Lead the way," Doyle replied. Xander gingerly moved forward, edging along the bridge. Spike finally picked up the boy and ran the rest of the way across the trench, Doyle on his heels. Each step pulled at the wound on his back, but he ignored the pain. If he had to carry Xander all the way through Tartarus, so be it. They weren't stopping now.

"I could have gotten across, you know," Xander began, twisting out of Spike's grip. "And eww, who forgot to flush? This place smells like--"

"Shit," Spike finished, pointing. "As in, a moat full of it."

Xander forgot about being aggravated with Spike. "You mean they're tortured in..."

"Flatterers," Doyle told him. "They loved spewing it in life, so they're surrounded with it in death."

Xander coughed a couple of times, and then giggled. "Gotta say, it's appropriate."

Spike smirked and dragged Xander along by the hand he still held. The boy seemed unconcerned with the maneuver, simply reaching for Doyle. They made an odd daisy-chain as they crossed over the fecal moat, though Xander did slow momentarily.

"Isn't that one of Glory's goons?" He asked Spike.

"Jinx," The blonde replied. "And some of Sunnydale's finest..."

"Cheerleaders? Harmony?"

Doyle glanced at the waste-covered chit. "Just her soul. The vampire..."

"We know," Spike and Xander said together.