Xander blinked rapidly, trying to clear the darkness that clouded his vision. Anya must have hit him harder than he’d thought, because he felt like hell. The back of his neck was sore from where the paperweight had cut him, and his back hurt from leaning against the doorframe for so long. Thinking of which, had he passed out there? Had Anya left him on the floor all day?

He struggled to stand, groaning at the lingering pain in his body. The fact that he couldn’t see scared him. Surely he hadn’t gone blind from this? A thought crossed his mind. What if Anya had gone vengeance? What might she have done to him? A chill passed over him. He took a tentative step forward, frowning at the unusual sensation under his feet. The carpet felt...gritty.

Xander leaned down again, putting his hands on the floor. He hadn’t paid much attention to it when he stood up, but upon further investigation he found that it was not carpet at all, but dirt. To be more precise, it was rock, with dirt and debris scattered over it. Where was he? In the sewers, perhaps? The air was cool and stale, but not unbearably so. It definitely smelt like it had been a long time since the room had been aired out.

Standing up again, Xander began to move forward very carefully, inching his way along with his hands out in front and slightly to the side. He certainly didn’t want to stumble into some pit while trying to find his way out of wherever he was. After a few more steps, his hands brushed what seemed to be a wall. Xander leaned against it for a few minutes, pulling his thoughts together.

What would they do in the movies? Xander thought. He was in a pitch dark place with dirt floors and stone walls. Dissecting every movie memory he had, Xander began to inch along the wall, moving clockwise. If he did this right, he could build a mental map of the room.

After about half an hour, Xander was convinced the room had no end. He couldn’t tell that the walls curved, although they were very bumpy, and what he thought were stalagmites blocked his path several times. He was about to give up when the wall disappeared. He reached backwards, finding it again. It didn’t actually stop; instead, it turned sharply, creating a sort of opening.

Taking a chance, Xander followed it instead of turning around and trying the other direction. The wall began to turn and twist more, and the air grew both fresher and moister. The change in lighting was so gradual that Xander didn’t notice he could see until he saw his hands on the wall.

"What the..." Xander murmured, looking around him. The light was low but present, allowing him to just make out his surroundings. He was, in fact, in a cave of sorts. Looking ahead, he saw that the path continued in a narrow corridor, and the light looked stronger up ahead. The illumination increased his confidence and he picked up the pace, still keeping a hand on the wall. After a few more twists and turns, and a tight squeeze, Xander found himself at the mouth of the cave. All he could see past the edge of the rock was a clear blue sky.

He walked right up to the edge of the rock ledge and peered over. Lush, dark green foliage blocked his view after just a few feet. Bringing his head back up, he saw in the distance an endless expanse of water to his right and the outline of a mountain range to his left. Xander figured the mountains were very distant, since he could just make them out. The water looked a lot closer. He turned around and looked up, trying to place the location of the cave. This didn’t look much like southern California, but there was a big body of water...

The cave was partway up a high ridge, covered with the same dense foliage. From this angle, Xander could see that the greenery was made up of enormous trees, with trunks easily the size of sequoias. Their branches started about twenty feet up and reached out to tangle in the neighboring trees’ branches, creating a blanket-like canopy. No wonder he couldn’t see anything. The big, flat leaves were dense and plentiful, keeping him from seeing very much below them.

Xander sat down near the edge, wondering what he should do. Even his limited knowledge of geography told him he wasn’t in Kansas anymore, much less California. They may have been the size of sequoias, but those trees weren’t like anything he’d seen in his home state. They looked more like rainforest plants. That thought made him look around for pythons and jaguars, but he found no predators. Perhaps, though, he was somewhere like South America. He suddenly wished he’d actually learned Spanish.

"Hello? Um, anybody out there?" Silence met Xander’s shouted question. Oh well, it was worth a shot. Why did all the weird stuff always seem to happen to him? When he finally returned to Sunnydale, he was going to have a long talking-to with Buffy and the gang. In his mind, either Anya or Willow was responsible for this. They were the only ones with the power or connections, and the...lack of foresight to actually do it, regardless of consequences. If only he could figure out what they did. It did no good for him to dwell on that when he was stranded in the middle of nowhere.

If he was in a foreign place, no one was going to be looking for him there. That meant he needed to find civilization. Only then could he find a way to contact someone and get home. At least he had some rudimentary knowledge of survival, thanks to living in Sunnydale and watching a lot of adventure movies.

He stood back up, peering over the side of the ledge again to determine the best route down. He figured that heading for the water was his best bet. If it was an ocean, there would be cities or something near it. After a minute, he found what looked like a sort-of-safe route off his ledge. At least, he thought he might not die from the steep drop.

The first few tentative steps went ok, but the gravelly dirt under his feet soon gave way and Xander found himself sliding down a steep slope. Pained grunts and yelps echoed through the trees as he rolled down, trying to avoid the huge trunks and scattered boulders. Finally he came to a stop, thanks to a moss-covered rock the size of a small house.

"Ouch. Way ouch," Xander moaned, curling up into a ball. He didn’t even want to know how badly he was hurt. From what it felt like, he’d broken every bone in his body. He lay there in the shade of the boulder, rocking gently, until the pain faded to the point he thought he could sit up. Opening one bruised eye, he pulled himself upright and took stock of the damage.

Actually, it didn’t seem to be too bad. He was really scraped up, and could tell that he’d just gotten some award-winning bruises, but nothing seemed to be actually broken. It wasn’t until he tried to stand that he noticed the stitch in his side that meant he’d cracked some ribs. Well, that would certainly slow him down.

"Anya? This is so not funny!" Xander screamed up into the trees. He kicked the ground, sending debris flying. The angry action also irritated his bruised body and he hopped back to lean against the boulder. "I mean it, An. I want to go home. This is way out of line."

The chattering of forest animals was the only response he got. Sighing, he pushed off the rock to start back on his quest for fellow humans. Unfortunately, the fall had somewhat disoriented him. Taking a chance, he decided to go just to the right of the boulder, assuming that he’d fallen pretty much straight down the hill.

A few hours of hiking later, Xander wasn’t so sure he’d make the right choice. The land had, thankfully, leveled off quite a bit, so he didn’t have to worry about rolling down any more slopes. However, he couldn’t tell where he was, or where he had come from, and it was getting dark. That meant that he didn’t have the protection of the cave anymore--if he could have even gotten back up to it. He also hadn’t run into any streams or ponds. And, of course, he was very hungry.

He kept walking, though, determined to at least find a safe place to spend the night. He hated the idea of sleeping outdoors without any sort of protection, even a blanket. At this point, though, he was just grateful he’d not toed off his shoes in his apartment, as he was wont to do. If he’d done that, he’d really be in a bad way now.

Finally, he found a trio of boulders, much like the one he’d run into. After checking around them to make sure no other little creatures were using them, he curled up between them for some rest. It was getting to the point that he couldn’t see well, so he figured that a nice, long rest would do him good. Not that he’d be able to sleep, of course.

The sounds of the forest at night unnerved him. All through the day he’d jumped and quivered at the sounds of animals running and scurrying about. He’d seen birds flit here and there, as well as what he thought were squirrels and deer. At night, though, the sounds became ominous. Were those birds or bats? Deer or wolves? Bloody images of him being torn limb from limb had Xander huddling closer to the rocks, almost burying himself under them.

Fear and exhaustion rode herd on him to the point that he was alternating between a hazy state of almost-unconsciousness and heart-rending terror. His stomach roiled from both hunger and all the negative emotions he was feeling. Had he had anything in his stomach, he would have lost it long ago. Unfortunately, his current state produced only a mouthful of stomach acid and bile, which he spat as far away from his nesting spot as possible.

Sleep did not come easy for Xander, but eventually he gave in and passed out, still shivering from the sounds even as he slept.

•••

When Xander woke, it was well into morning. He stretched gingerly, feeling every muscle in his body protest at having to sleep on the forest floor after being bashed in the day before. Ignoring the pain as best as he could, Xander relieved himself against the rocks and resumed his quest. His priorities had changed slightly; his first goal now was to find water, then food, before trying to find other people. What good were others if he was dead from dehydration?

The forest seemed marginally less intimidating than it had the day before. Perhaps not getting attacked during the night had helped him overcome some of his apprehensions. The little noises that accompanied a living forest no longer made him twitch. Of course, that could be because he didn’t have the energy to do so. Xander was really feeling the lack of food and water.

Before too long, he heard a rushing sound and headed toward it. Water! A small stream burbled and gushed across his path, looking like the answer to his prayers. Kneeling down, he drank deeply of the warm water. It tasted funny, but he kept drinking, chalking it up to him being accustomed to bad city tap water.

After he’d drunk his fill, but not too much--he knew it would make him sick, Xander stood and thought about what he should do next. He didn’t want to abandon his only source of water, but he also needed to find food and people, in that order. Perhaps there was a village up or down stream...that would have both of his current needs, and would leave him with a water source. Picking upstream on a whim, Xander began to walk along the bank of the water, enjoying the peaceful sounds of the brook splashing.

In fact, he was so calmed by the water that he didn’t notice that he’d stumbled upon civilization until he was in the thick of things. Xander jerked up, swiveling his head wildly. Perhaps civilization was too...strong a word for this.

Massacre was more like it. There were bodies strewn across the ground, blood and gore everywhere. The bodies weren’t all human, either. He saw several that looked decidedly furry. Houses and small buildings were in various states of annihilation, many of them no more than smoldering ruins. Farther into the little village, he saw a mass of huddled figures that looked to be bound up or restrained. The sight of the bodies, though, was what really scared him. This was definitely not a place to get help. Actually, it was a great place to leave. Deciding to make a hasty exit, he stopped walking forward and began to inch back the way he’d come.

Unfortunately, someone saw him. A pair of grayish-looking creatures shouted from up ahead. He glanced at them, becoming frantic as he saw weapons in their hands. He turned to run away, only to find more of the creatures behind him, wielding deadly-looking blades and feral gleams in their eyes. They shouted in a language he couldn’t understand, getting closer and closer by the second.

"Hey, um...I’m not the bad guy--" Xander’s frantic plea for mercy was cut off as one of the creatures brought the blunt butt of his sword down on the back of his head. Darkness clouded his vision as he fell to the ground.

•••

For the third time in two days, Xander woke up feeling horrible. The most pressing pain was in his head, which was pounding like he’d tied one on. The rest of his body didn’t feel much better, though. And his mouth, aack! It felt like he’d swallowed cotton. He tried to reach up to cradle his aching skull, but found he could not. His hands were bound to the floor.

Opening his eyes, Xander found himself on the ground, rather securely tied up. His hands were bound to his feet, with a second length of rope strapping his upper arms to his thighs. He found that the reason his mouth felt funny was the presence of a gag. He tried to spit it out, but found that it was tied securely. In fact, all the bonds that kept him in place were done so well he couldn’t find a single weak spot. The grey creatures were still around, and some of them glanced his way once in a while. They were mostly busy loading bodies onto wagons. Xander’s eyes widened as he saw a couple of people bound as he was. Maybe they were still alive.

His attackers noticed that he had woken up and came over to him. They clucked and hissed over him, poking here and there. He tried to avoid them, but tied up as he was, it was almost impossible. He settled for growling and glaring, which seemed to elicit only laughter from them. He felt like a Thanksgiving turkey, sitting in the grocery store as people picked him over.

Finally, one of them reached down and picked him up. Xander’s eyes widened at the ease by which he was hefted into the air. These things were very strong indeed. His surprise turned to horror when he was chucked into a nearby wagon, landing on top of several bodies with a squishy thud. He found himself face to face with a dead person, blank eyes staring at him. Xander could feel the blood from the bodies, sticky and cold, rubbing onto his skin. He retched behind the gag. Using what little leverage he had, Xander managed to roll onto his back and scoot next to the low side of the wagon. At least that way he wasn’t looking right at a corpse, and could get some support for his back. It also let him look around some.

There were maybe five wagons like his, partially filled with bodies. Each one had one or two trussed-up people in it...well, except for the one with two tied up furry creatures. Xander quickly came to the conclusion that people were the commodity the attackers were after. Nothing else seemed to be being loaded into the wagons, although he could see potentially valuable items lying around the village. When realization struck, Xander retched again. Just what use were people, when they were dead? He’d been in Sunnydale far too long not to know the implications of some demons hauling off a lot of corpses. Either there was some seriously dark mojo going on, or he was sitting next to dinner.

His thoughts consumed him to the point that he didn’t realize the raiding party was leaving until the wagon he was in lurched forward. The large, horse-like creatures moved at a swift pace and Xander soon found himself bouncing and bumping along with the wagon as they raced away from the massacre site. He tried very hard not to hear the sounds of skulls hitting the floor of the wagon as the bodies around him thumped around.

•••

They rode all day and through the night without stopping. Xander’s bladder had begun to protest shortly after they’d begun to move, and after several hours, he gave up on them stopping for a bathroom break and relieved himself. Fortunately the day was warm enough that his clothes dried quickly, although now he could add the smell of urine to the other redolent odors of decaying flesh he had to endure. He hoped the stench bothered his captors. At least all that had gone on had effectively silenced his stomach.

Xander had fallen into a light doze, and was awoken only when the wagons stopped. Looking around, he found that they had stopped at what looked like the gates to a walled city. He heard more of the hissing language the attackers spoke, followed shortly by the sound of the gate raising up. The wagons moved forward again, and Xander tried to pick out details of where he was through the hazy darkness. There were guards, heavily armed, patrolling the gate, as well as others milling around. His presence drew much attention, and he found himself the focus of many stares and pointing fingers.

The wagon wound its way through the city, a rough ride over paving stones that jostled Xander even more. By the time they stopped again, he felt like he’d been put in a dryer and tossed around for a few hours. He looked around again, finding that they had stopped at what looked like stables. The braying of labor animals echoed through the building, and the smell of manure was strong.

Rough hands reached for him and he was lifted out of the wagon. He struggled briefly against his handler, but a cruel shake stopped him. His head was still ringing when he was tossed into a cell, the door slammed shut behind him. He rolled himself upright and took stock of where he was. There wasn’t much to see.

Flickering firelight poured weakly through the slotted top of the door, giving illumination to his surroundings, such as they were. There wasn’t anything at all in the cell other than him. Dirt floors and stone walls surrounded him, with no cot or table or window. The muffled sounds outside his cell told him the others were being unloaded, and the sickening slap of bodies hitting a hard floor confirmed that his traveling companions were also being brought in.

Eventually the wagons were taken away and the torches extinguished. Darkness filled his cell and Xander leaned back on the wall, trying to relax enough to sleep. He was exhausted, and he knew that he’d never think of a way to escape without all his mental and physical faculties at their best. The lack of nourishment was beginning to take its toll on him, too. After a while, Xander slipped into sleep, not noticing the tears that trickled down his face.

Morning found Xander face to face with one of his captors. He tried to keep each one separate, but found that while they were easily identifiable, he never seemed to meet the same one twice. True to this pattern, the one looking at him now was new. He ignored the hisses and squawks, and tried to make carrying him as difficult as possible when the thing picked him up.

Of course, that didn’t mean much to his captor, who just hissed and tossed him around a bit. Xander found himself being carried into a large, open room filled with sunlight. A great many windows stood open in each wall, providing more light than he’d seen in two days. He was pitched down in the center of the room and left alone. Why would they guard him? He couldn’t move a muscle.

Shortly after he was brought in, two more attackers came in carrying the furry things that had accompanied him to the city. They were thrown down against the wall across from him and left alone. A few of the grey creatures stood around here and there, but nothing else seemed to be happening.

Xander turned his attention to the newcomers. They were bound much more securely than he was, if such a thing was possible. He could barely make out hands and feet through the ropes, although what he could see indicated that they had longer fingers and toes than he did. Looking over them, he thought they kind of reminded him of monkeys. They were covered in short fur, and he could just make out a tail bound up in the ropes. Looking closely at their faces, he amended his statement. They weren’t exactly monkey-like, since they looked very much like furry humans in the face--they didn’t have squished in noses or any other monkey features. Actually, they were kind of cute, in a furry-plush-thing kind of way.

A few minutes later, several more of their attackers came in, carrying several knives and a large cup. Xander watched in growing horror as two of the grey things picked up one of the furry captives. A third attacker took a long, narrow knife and sliced open the furry thing’s skin, releasing a flow of thick, dark blood. A fourth creature caught it in the cup, not missing a drop. After a couple of minutes, the blood stopped flowing and the furry guy was set back down. The procedure was repeated with the other captive. By the time they were finished, the cup was almost full.

Xander shrank away as the attention was turned to him. Instead of being picked up, though, he found himself manhandled around and bent back, until he was facing straight up. A clawed hand ripped away his gag. He had no time to scream, however, because that hand slapped over his nose, another hand prying his jaw open. He was still gasping for air when the cup full of blood was tipped over, spilling the warm, thick liquid into his throat. He gagged and tried to spit it out, but a hand on his throat pinched and massaged, and Xander felt the stuff slide down against his will.

After the cup was empty, the gag was replaced and he was picked up again. He looked over at the furry creatures as he was carried out. They looked woozy but still alive. He wondered just what was going on, but the gag kept him from asking, and his captors didn’t seem too interested in telling him anything--if they even spoke a language he could understand.

They dumped him back in his little cell, letting his head hit the wall as he fell. Once he was alone again, Xander righted himself and tried to control his terror. The blood sat heavily in his stomach and it was all he could do not to vomit it back up. If he did that, he’d probably drown on it, since it had nowhere to go.

He struggled against his bonds again, hoping that they had miraculously loosened during the ordeal. They hadn’t, however, and he found himself still securely bound. A shiver ran through his body, and he fought to contain it. He wasn’t cold, so he chalked it up to fear.

The shivers continued, though, and soon he was shaking uncontrollably. An acrid taste filled his mouth, and he found his vision fading in and out. The blood! It must have been poisonous for humans. Why would they poison him, though? It didn’t make any sense. He fought against losing consciousness, but it was a losing battle. Xander slumped back against the wall, trickles of blood running out of his nose and eyes.