Author's Note : Well, here is the anxiously awaited next chapter. What are the effects of Cordy's wish? You'll get your first clue right here and it's a pretty big, beat-you-over-the-head clue. Hope you enjoy it. And to answer some points:

Queen Boadicea : Buffy and Faith can not so much sense the magic in the air, but rather the presence of a demonic creature as Anya begins to drop her disguise in order to fulfil Cordy's wish.

Tefla : Cordy definitely still cares for Xander, she just thinks he's a bonehead and things would have been much better had he just told Buffy about the return of Angel's soul. Is she right? You'll find out in this very chapter.

And now, on with the show:

Part 4:

When the darkness finally lifted the first thing Cordelia felt was pain. Oh God, how was it possible to hurt so much? Her back was burning agony, almost as if someone had flayed off the skin there. There was a terrible ache in her belly and she realized it was hunger, terrible, burning hunger. What was going on here?

Her vision finally cleared and she saw herself kneeling in rubble. All around here there was rubble and ruins. A terrible wind ripped over the land, tearing away at the few buildings that remained somewhat intact. The howling of the storm was so loud that she could barely think.

"Cordy, what are you doing?" someone yelled at her, barely audible.

Looking up, she saw a dark shape running toward her. She needed a few moments to recognize it as Xander, mostly because he certainly didn't look like she remembered him looking just a few minutes ago.

He was rake-thin, barely any meat on his bones. His clothing consisted of rags, bits and pieces that should have gone into the trash bin long ago, and what she could see of his skin was ashen, almost grey.

The most startling change was his eyes, though: They were hard, full of bitterness, devoid of hope. The only thing that remained was a spark of determination she had seen in him before. The one that said he wasn't going to die, no matter how outclassed or outnumbered he might be. Only this time there was no hope or humour paired with this look, only bitterness and spite.

Reaching her, he grabbed her arm and unceremoniously pulled her to her feet.

"I know you're hurt, but this is not the time to rest. Come on!"

She wanted to say something, anything, but there was no opportunity. Xander pulled her along without waiting for an answer and a moment later she realized why. There was something coming, something that crawled over the rubble like spiders and came closer with every second. Something her eyes refused to properly see. Something hideous and terrifying.

Figuring that there'd be time enough for explanations once they had gotten away from... whatever that was... Cordelia started running. Her legs hurt, her entire body cried out in protest, but she didn't care. Whatever was going on, she didn't want to be caught by these things.

They ran for what felt like hours, but it was probably no more than a few minutes. She felt so incredibly worn and tired. How was that possible? It was just morning, wasn't it? She had slept a good night's sleep, had felt rested. And she always made sure to stay trim and in shape.

Looking down at her body, though, she could barely suppress a scream of horror. She, too, was mangled and malnourished, as if she hadn't eaten in weeks. She could count every rib. Her skin had the same ashen colour as Xander's. Looking at her hands, she almost screamed again. Her nails were almost gone, splinters all that remained. Her fingers seemed misshapen, as if they had been broken and grown back together the wrong way. She could barely make a fist.

Who had done this to her? And how had he done it so fast? Without her noticing?

Xander finally stopped running, pulling her underneath a heap of rubble that formed something like a cave. There were scuttling noises close by, but a moment later they grew fainter and more distant. Then everything was quiet except for the howling of the wind.

Finally able to catch her breath, Cordelia looked at Xander. Was it Xander? How could he be so different all of a sudden? How could everything be so different?

"What's going on?" she asked, not able to think of a better question.

He looked at her, checking her over. Not in a sexual way, definitely not. He was obviously trying to ascertain her physical state, nothing more.

"Sorry it took so long, Cordy," he apologized. "I wish we could have gotten to you sooner, but there was just no way to do it before they moved you out to the pens."

"Pens? What are you talking about? What happened to you? For that matter, what happened to me?"

Again he looked at her, checking over her head this time.

"It's okay," he then tried to reassure her. "After what happened to you... we'll put you back together, okay? I promise! I'll make it okay! Somehow I'll make it okay!"

There was terrible anguish in his eyes, as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

She opened her mouth to ask more questions, hundreds more, but suddenly Xander grabbed her and pushed her to the floor, a hand sliding across her mouth. For a moment she almost protested, but quickly fell silent as she heard new noises from outside. Peering outside, she could see something moving past them.

It was a long line of... people? Were those people? God, each and every single one of them looked like he should be dead by now. Mangled, crippled, barely more than skeletons with skin stretched across the bones. There had to be hundreds of them. Thousands. All chained together at the wrists and shuffling along through the rubble.

Some kind of... creatures were herding them like sheep. Some of them carried barbed whips, which they used with enthusiasm. Others just pushed people along, kicking those who fell down until they got up again.

Following a notion, Cordelia looked at her own hands and saw that there were steel manacles on her wrists, the skin underneath them chaffed raw. The same manacles as the ones the people outside wore as they were herded along.

A chill was settling in deep in her bones. This couldn't be real. None of this could possibly be real.

Xander didn't let go of her until the long line of people had shuffled past. It must have been several thousands at least. Young and old, male and female, black and white and everything in between. All of them with the same stooped shoulders and dead eyes.

"What's going on here, Xander?" she asked once they were alone again. Her voice sounded so small and fearful to her own ears. "All these people... what happened here?"

Xander looked at her for a long moment, then let out a strained, brittle laugh.

"I guess there are some plus sides to being tortured within an inch of your life. You forgot? God, I wish I could do that."

"Forgot what, Xander?" she asked, desperation now in her voice. "What happened here? What happened to Sunnydale? Why are there demons herding people like cattle? Tell me what the fuck is going on here!" The profanity didn't even register.

Xander looked down.

"Ignorance is bliss, Cordy," he mumbled. "If by some miracle you managed to block out what is going on here, you should let things be that way."

She grabbed him by the lapels of his dirty shirt.

"Tell me, Xander! What happened! Where are we?"

He gave her a sad, sad look.

"Where do you think we are, Cordy? Same place we've been for nearly a century now. We're in Hell."

TO BE CONTINUED