The buildings still standing were in a state of disrepair, and the others were no more than piles of rubble, some of them on fire. He had to wonder what had happened here, but there was no time for thinking. Right now, he needed to find someplace safe and hole up till he figured out what was going on.

Xander didn't stop running until he found himself in the cemetery. He hid in one of the sturdier-looking crypts and sat as far back from the door as possible. He would never complain about where he was again if this was his punishment. Taking out his journal he began to write.

I don't know where I am or what I'm going to do. This world is not a friendly place. When I opened my eyes after the dizziness passed ... God. The sight, the smell ... All those bodies. I will never forget it as long as I live. Which may not be long judging from this place. It looks like a war zone.

I haven't seen any people. Then again, I haven't seen any demons either. Other than those bodies. I don't know what to make of it yet. I found a crypt to hole up in. Hopefully I won't be here long. I don't think I want to know how things are different here. I imagine hell looks a lot like this place does.

I don't want to die here, where no one will even know who I was. I want to go home. I want to see my Willow again, have her slap my arm and tell me I'm being silly. I want to have Buffy kick my ass while she trains; I don't care if I bruise for a month. I want to take Dawnie to the mall and buy her everything she smiles at. I want to watch Giles polish the lenses off his glasses as he explains why the world is going to end this week. I want to have an argument with Spike; one where we call each other creative names and smile at the inventiveness of the other. I want to tell Anya I'm sorry, that I never meant to hurt her.

Xander closed his book and waited for the sun to set. He only hoped that no one found him. He had a gut feeling that there was no slayer at all in this version of Sunnydale. No scoobies either. Hell, he'd be happy to see Spike, as long as he was chipped.

Xander must have drifted off, for the next thing he knew he was being dragged from the crypt by two of the ugliest demons he had ever seen - and he'd been up close and personal with Chaos demons, so he knew ugly.

These guys were big, nine - maybe ten - feet tall. They were the sickliest colour of green, and had dripping pustules all over their bodies. They smelled bad too. Really, really bad. Xander couldn't help but retch as one of them leaned over and exhaled in his face. The big ... thing ... didn't like that too much and displayed his anger by hitting Xander hard enough to knock him unconscious.

When Xander next awoke, he was in a cell. It was filled to capacity with other people, some of them in really bad shape. He didn't see anyone he recognised at first; then he saw a small shape huddled in the corner. If it weren't for the shock of red hair he wouldn't have even seen her.

"Willow?"

Xander quickly pushed his way through the other people and crouched down beside his long-time friend. He tilted her face up to get a look at her and gasped at what he saw. His Wills, his beautiful Willow was covered in scars; she was filthy and missing an eye. He pulled her into his arms and held her as he cried.

Xander realised that something was wrong when she didn't respond. He looked around at the others and wondered why it was that they just sat there, seeming to accept the fact that they were prisoners. Why did no one care?

"What the hell is wrong with her?!"

Xander was angry. He wanted answers and he wanted them now. He needed to know how things had turned out so wrong on this world and if there was any way to change it. One man sitting nearby looked at Xander and shrugged his shoulders.

"She don't speak. She don't cry. She don't fight. She's broken."

The simple speech turned his stomach. Broken. Willow was broken. And why did the man talk like that? Like he didn't know how to form sentences?

"Why? Why is she broken? Why do you speak like that?" "We don't talk. Only when told to. Acathla don't like us to talk."

Xander’s gut clenched at the name. Acathla was released here. Angelus had been successful. Hell on earth was reality here. He was going to die - he knew it. This was like a farm or something; sooner or later he would be killed for food. He wanted to throw up. Again. So he did.

Just then the door opened and two of those green things came in again. They grabbed a young man from one of the benches and dragged him out. The man didn't even put up a fight. What the hell was wrong with these people?

"What the hell is wrong with you people!?"

Several people turned to look at him when he yelled but then just as quickly went back to what they had been doing. Which as far as Xander could see, was nothing but staring off into space. Xander eased Willow out of his arms and leaned her up against the wall. He turned to the older man who had spoken to him before, the only one who seemed to speak, and asked him what happened to the people who were taken out of this room.

"They fight. They live? Maybe they come back. They die? They're food."

Xander’s mind was spinning. Fight? Fight whom? What? And food? Oh hell no! He was NOT gonna be meat for those monsters. He just had to hold out until the next shift. He wished there were a way to take Willow with him.

"Who do they fight? Demons?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes humans. Don't matter. It’s all just sport to them."

"Like throwing the Christians to the lions? That's ... That's ... Barbaric! Why don't you fight back?"

"No point. Where you from son? Everyone knows demons rule the world. No point in fighting it."

Xander shook his head sadly and went back to the still form of his friend.