Part One-Abandon All Hope . . .

She wasn't prepared for what was inside.

Cordelia thought that she could handle it. She was a tough girl, a bitch if you asked some people. Things didn't get to her as often as they did to other people. Xander once said that it was because she had no heart in her chest, though he didn't say stuff like that anymore. But that wasn't the case with her. She had a perfectly good heart in her chest, and a very sound mind in her head despite what other people said. But there were times when she felt like she had ice water in her veins, to be able to wade through some of the horrible things she had seen, and done.

But it was all a lie.

She knew that the minute she was driven up to that cold, grey building. She knew the second the door was opened for her and she stepped out into the sunlight, she knew that she was in no way ready for what was about to come. She had seen countless horrors on the Hellmouth, mostly due to her reluctant friendship with Buffy and her gang, but this.

This was beyond even her.

For a brief second, she debated getting back into the car and ordering the driver to take her away from here. The building was just too horrible to look at, even from the outside. There was nothing all too significant about its appearance, but she could feel the atmosphere from where she was. There was some sort of line, a quote from somewhere that perfectly described this.

Abandon hope all ye who enter here.

That summed up this place very nicely. It was a place that worked to suck the hope and humanity out of people. It would take your warmth and replace it with the icy cold of separation and despair. She could feel that dark presence from just standing outside. This place worked to suck the life out of people and she wanted no part of it.

But still, she made her feet move forward. Step by step, she wandered closer and closer to the doors. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest, her mind screaming for her to get the hell away from this place. But she couldn't do it. Even though it would probably be the safest thing for her to do, she couldn't make herself turn away from the place. Her mind was telling her to leave, but her heart and her gut would not let her go until she had finished the task Giles had sent her to do.

"All right then?"

She nodded, not even bothering to look up at her escort. That in itself was very weird, considering her escort was a seriously hot nineteen-year-old Irish boy with an accent that could curl a girl's toes. And Cordelia Chase was not one to let a hottie just slip through her fingers. Any other time she would have been all over the guy, running her hands over his lean, muscular form. She would be running her hand through his light brown hair, doing just about anything to make the guy fall head over heels for her.

But she couldn't do it. Not today, not now. Not with Buffy waiting back in Sunnydale, ordered not to move from the Hellmouth by Giles himself. Not with Xander locked up in Giles's house in London, under the strict watch of some members of the Watchers' Council. Not with Giles working with Quentin Travers himself as they both worked everyone into a frenzy over what had happened when Graduation was over. Not with Willow missing, taken away from her friends by a group of men in dresses who had been pointing thin sticks at them.

Not with what she had been sent here to do today.

She waited patiently as the door was opened for her. Her escort was talking to the man up front, a guard of some sort no doubt. She stood calmly beside her escort, the sweet boy named Oliver who seemed genuinely concerned for her and her friends. His concern was just enough for her to forget that he worked with those men in dresses who had taken Willow. Though it was not enough for Xander, who attacked just about any of these wizard people that he saw. Hence the reason for him being under house arrest by order of Giles and therefore electing her to be the one to see this done.

She would have been slightly angry about it if she cared to be. This experience was not going to be any fun for her, or those involved. She knew it, felt it right down in the centre of her being. Whatever she would see beyond these doors would stay with her until the end of her days.

Oliver was offering her his arm now. She took it without a word, allowing him to guide her into the building. Her anxiety went soaring the second she stepped through the doorway. Even being outside, clutching her coat to her body as she shivered in the cold English weather, even that was better than being in here.

But still she pushed on, her head held high as ever. She heard murmurs coming from all around her, but she ignored them. It wouldn't do for her to acknowledge them; to look for the source of those muttered words. She might have hysterics if she looked too closely at the condition of the inhabitants of this place. Giles had warned her as much, telling her to keep her mind focused on two things: Willow and getting the hell out of this God-forsaken place. Those were her goals, the only things she had to think about. Nothing else would penetrate; she wouldn't let anything else penetrate. Her job here was fairly cut and dry. Get in and then get the hell out.

Oliver squeezed her arm in a comfortingly manner and she managed a small smile for the man. He wasn't much older than her, not even a year, but still he seemed almost too young for her. His eyes hadn't seen the things she had. She was pretty sure his eyes hadn't seen the things inside this place before either. He kept getting horrified and then sombre looks on his face as they walked down the hall. He seemed so innocent, this boy named Oliver Wood. She wondered briefly how he had ended up working for the men in dresses. Those guys didn't seem to be the nicest people around, and Oliver was just a little sweetheart. He just didn't seem to fit with them.

Cordelia sighed, looking down from his face to watch her feet as she was led further into the building. Her shoes were black, in fact, she was dressed pretty much all in black. Black jeans, a black tank top, and covered by a black and white sweater. Her jacket was a very dark grey, an almost black colour, and hell, even her socks were black. It was like she was in mourning, but she knew that it wasn't true. She just didn't feel like colours today. She couldn't imagine herself wandering into this place, wearing one of her light blue dresses and shiny blue high heels. It didn't seem appropriate; this wasn't the place for cheer. She knew that deep down inside.

This was a place of despair.

The murmurs had faded away; as if the inhabitants no longer seemed to care that she was there. There was silence in that hallway, the only sounds being her and Oliver's steps as they marched ever more steadily to the end of the hallway. She figured that was their goal, judging by the way Oliver seemed to be watching it very closely. Every now and then he quickened his pace, just a bit, tugging on her arm to get her to hurry. She complied, knowing exactly how he felt. She wanted out of here too. In fact, she hadn't wanted to be in here period. But she had a job to do, and for her friends, she would do it.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they finally reached their destination. She stepped back from Oliver, watching as he withdrew a key from the folds of his robes. Fear starting creeping up her spine as she tried to peer into the dark corners of the room in front of her, seeing nothing really at all. Cordelia began to tap her foot nervously, eyes wandering down the hall. She wondered if she could do this, she wondered if she had the strength.

But maybe it wasn't about strength. Buffy was the strongest person Cordelia had ever met, and the brunette knew without asking that the Slayer would not have been able to do this. Buffy wouldn't have been able to handle any of this, and that's why Giles ordered her to remain behind on the Hellmouth. Cordelia briefly felt sorry for any demon that dared to stick around that town after Willow was taken. Buffy was handling her worry the best and only way a Slayer knew how: slaying. Buffy was tearing up the town, taking out her frustrations on whatever creature she could find.

And she wasn't even slaying anymore. Not so much as she was pounding her prey into a bloody mess, often taking about twenty minutes to beat the crap out of a fledging before finally just staking the vampire. Joyce had told Cordelia all this the last time she had called. Mrs Summers was worried for both her daughter and Willow, but not sure what she should do to help. And the sad thing was, there was nothing much Joyce could do to help. This entire fiasco, it was shocking to learn that it had absolutely nothing to do with Buffy, or even with Willow.

And yet they were all in the middle of it now.

The door had finally been unlocked. Oliver pushed it open, wincing softly as the hinges creaked loudly. Cordelia swallowed the lump in her throat, standing there for a second before she lowered her head and walked through the door.

The room wasn't very big. There was a small cot on the side, a water fountain just ahead of it. It was dark and dreary, not even a window to let the sunshine in. Cordelia stopped in her tracks, looking closely around the room, trying to sight her target.

And there she was, huddled in the corner of the room. In the darkest of the corners, the girl sat shaking with her knees drawn up to her chest. Cordelia looked at the girl, dumbfounded for one second. In shock, her feet managed to carry her across the room to stand in front of the girl. Sinking to her knees, the brunette reached out with a tentative hand, grasping the girl's shoulder and giving it a gentle shake.

Wide, unfocused green eyes met hers. Cordelia felt like crying when she looked into Willow's face. Her lovely red hair was not stringy, hanging in front of her face in clumps. Her pale face was smudged here and there with dirt; her lips were chapped and bloodied, like she had bitten them to bleeding several times before. Willow's hands shook and she tried to cower away from the brunette, but Cordelia persisted.

"It's okay Willow," she managed to make herself say, trying to coax the girl out of the corner. "It's okay now. We're getting you out of here."

"Not real," Willow muttered in reply, her tone flat and desolate. "It's a trick, just like before. You're not here. My mind is making it up, giving me false hope."

"If your mind wanted to give you false hope, why would it make me appear?" Cordelia demanded shortly. "Wouldn't it make more sense to imagine Xander? Or better yet, Buffy? Come on Willow. No way could your conscious or subconscious mind ever conceive of me coming to your rescue."

Her words made the redhead pause and Willow lifted her head once more. Cordelia swore softly when she saw the tears of pain and horror pooling in those green eyes.

"Is it really you?" Willow whispered, her voice breaking. Cordelia nodded soundlessly, not trusting herself to speak. Willow let out a strangled sob, unexpectedly throwing herself into Cordelia's arms. The redhead began bawling, her words incoherent. Cordelia could do nothing but give the girl a hug, hand smoothing some of the hair away from her forehead. She turned her head to the doorway, beckoning Oliver with her eyes. He nodded and stepped forward, pulling the sniffling redhead out of her arms.

Cordelia watched as Oliver easily lifted Willow in his own arms, motioning with his head for Cordelia to lead the way out. The brunette did so gladly, falling into step with Oliver as they walked back down the way they came. She kept a hold on one of Willow's hands, occasionally muttering soothing words to the shaken redhead. She tried hard not to look too closely at Willow's condition, the bloodstains and dirt marks covering the remaining rags of her clothes and graduation robe. It made her angry to think someone had done this to the sweet girl, to have obviously just chucked her into that small room and proceeded to torment her with fear and pain.

A growl escaped her lips as she thought about it. She quickened her pace, practically pulling Oliver the few steps out of the building. She steered him to the car, opening the door and watching as he placed Willow carefully on the backseat. Cordelia slid in after the girl, pulling the redhead up and into her embrace. Willow clung to the brunette gratefully, still crying her eyes out.

"Get us out of here!" Cordelia snapped, tossing an angry look out her window to the imposing grey building they had just left. Oliver gave a brisk nod and was soon sliding into the drivers' seat. Cordelia felt her heart pick up as the engine started and they began to pull away.

"You came to get me," Willow sobbed brokenly.

"Just sleep Willow," Cordelia hushed the girl. "Just sleep. Giles will explain everything later."

The redhead nodded gratefully, resting her head on Cordelia's shoulder. The brunette patted her on the back, eyes staring straight out the front window. She refused to look back, to let Willow look back. If she had her way, the redhead would never come back to this place, never had to remember it again. The assholes that had done this to her friend were going to pay; they were going to pay dearly. She was going to see them burn for this, she vowed silently. They were going to end up in that place they had stuck Willow. She would see to it that they felt every bit of fear and pain that the redhead had felt.

She would see those bastards throw into that prison, that Azkaban if it was the last thing she ever did.