Poor Xander, he was probably flipping out by now, not knowing
     what had happened to me...except that now that they had
     me...they wouldn't need him anymore! Oh, God, what if they had
     hurt him? What if they had...

     I had to get out of there. I had to make sure that no matter what
     happened to me, Xander wasn't hurt. If I had to, I would offer to
     willingly go through with the marriage if they would just agree to
     set him free. But first, I had to make sure that he was even
     still--stop it, Willow! Of course he's still alive. Don't for one
     second think otherwise!

     Unfortunately the thought had already been planted, and I couldn't
     get it out of my mind. Dalton had a history of killing my family and
     friends. Why wouldn't he kill Xander the second he didn't have use
     for him anymore. Xander was likely dead or being killed even as I
     sat there. I had to get out. I had to save him!

     I began pulling at the door, willing it to open. Of course, nothing is
     that easy--not when you're in a prison cell. My next thought was
     trying to break it down. I knew that it was pretty much a long-shot,
     but I also knew that when people were desperate, amazing things
     could happen. I backed up as far as I could from the door and ran
     at it, slamming against it with my full weight. Unfortunately, the cell
     was so small, that I wasn't able to pick up much momentum and
     my weight just wasn't enough to do any damage. Not that I wasn't
     going to try again. I'd try until I was either free, dead, or at the very
     least physically unable to try any more.

     About ten minutes later, I was at that point. I had done absolutely
     no good, and I'd worn myself out. My body was likely a mass of
     bruises, and I had nothing whatsoever to show for it. I sank to my
     knees in front of the door and stared at it...this stupid piece of
     wood that stood between me and the life of the person I loved
     most in the world. There had to be a way to get it open. Maybe I
     could...dig my way out? The floor wasn't solid...it was dirt! What if
     I dug my way out?

     Okay, so maybe I wasn't really thinking clearly. Digging out would
     probably take a lot longer than I had time to work with, but at least
     I was doing something. At least I had something to keep my mind
     off of Xander...damn.

     My mind was so preoccupied with thoughts of my best friend, that
     I swore I could even hear his voice softly calling my name. I
     ignored it and kept digging, but again it nagged at me. I stopped
     digging and listened. What if he really had called me? I waited for
     a moment and was about to give up and get back to work when I
     heard it a third time. "Will!" This time it was unequivocal. It was my
     name and it was unmistakably Xander's voice.

     "Xander?" Not that I wasn't glad to hear his voice, but how had he
     gotten free? Surely they hadn't let him go. I mean, I know they
     didn't really need him anymore, but obviously they wouldn't just let
     him stay around so that he could potentially rescue me!

     "I'm here, Will. Keep whispering so I can find you!" He sounded
     like he was right on the other side of the door! I peeked out the
     small dinner-tray sized opening in the door and spotted him just a
     few feet away. He was alive!

     "Right here!" I informed him, reaching through the tiny opening. A
     moment later, he grasped my hand and gave it a slight squeeze.

     "I'll get you out," he assured me, his voice filled with determination.
     It wasn't that I didn't appreciate his intentions, but I had the sinking
     feeling that I was far from free. I doubted that he had somehow
     managed to get the key to my cell. My suspicions were confirmed
     a moment later as I heard something hit the floor and the soft
     sound of metal being poked around in the keyhole. I adored the
     fact that he was trying, but somehow I just didn't see Xander being
     able to pick the lock. He just wasn't good at that sort of thing. He
     had neither the patience or the dexterity needed to do it. Not that I
     would be a whole lot better--I'd never actually picked a lock
     before, either, but I was a lot more meticulous and wasn't as easily
     frustrated by obstacles as he tended to get. I thought about asking
     if he wanted me to have a go, but decided that I didn't want to hurt
     his fragile ego. He wanted to rescue me--I'd give him a chance to
     at least try.

     As I listened to the sounds of his efforts, my mind began to wander
     a little. How had he managed to get free of the chain? Had he
     actually managed to pick the lock after all? Hope began to bloom.
     Still, I had to ask. "Xander?"

     "What?" I could hear the tension in his voice. He was already
     getting frazzled with the task.

     "How did you get out?"

     I heard him take a sharp intake of breath and then slowly exhale
     before answering. "You don't want to know."

     That made me want to know all the more. What had he done?
     Had he somehow overpowered one of the captors? Maybe he'd
     beat up one of the goons with that same candlestick that he'd
     almost hit me with. After all, if he hadn't picked the lock...and he
     didn't want me to know what he'd done...as if I would think less of
     him for beating the snot out of one of those thugs...or even killing
     one of them. God, he had killed someone. "Oh," was all I could
     think to say. How must he be feeling? It was one thing to stake a
     vampire, but entirely a different thing to murder a person--even if
     he was a demon's minion, and deserved it. It was self-defense.
     But, knowing Xander, he was having trouble dealing with it. I
     wanted to say something to comfort him, but couldn't even begin
     to think of anything that wouldn't sound...insipid.

     "Who brought you down here?" he asked after another minute. I
     could hear that he was at the end of his patience.

     "The big guy," I replied, trying to figure out what he was getting at.

     "Any idea which way he went?"

     He was going to try to kill the other one. It would never happen. I'd
     hit the thug with a club and it hadn't even fazed him. Xander had
     just lucked out with the first one. I didn't want him tangling with the
     bigger one. He'd likely get himself killed! My mind raced, trying to
     come up with a way to dissuade him without hurting his feelings.
     "You won't be able to fight him," I finally said, unable to think of
     any way to say it without being blunt.

     Xander let out a slight subconscious laugh. "I have no intention of
     fighting him. I'm a little..." A little what? But he didn't continue that
     thought. "I only want to see if I can find the key."

     He was giving up on picking the lock. Even if I'd known where the
     big guy had gone, I probably wouldn't have told Xander. I didn't
     want to chance Xander having a run-in with that thug. It was time
     to take matters back into my own hands. "Want me to try for a
     bit?" I asked, reaching through the opening, hoping that Xander
     would give me whatever he was using to try to pick the lock. After
     a moment, he pressed the bent up fork into my outstretched hand.

     For a few minutes I worked on the lock. I was having about the
     same level of success as Xander, though--absolutely none. But, I
     kept at it. The longer I worked, the more worried I became that
     someone would come along and see Xander out in the hallway.
     Maybe it was time to try to convince him to leave me behind.
     Maybe I could convince him to go get Buffy or Giles. It was worth
     a try anyway.

     "Xander, I'm not having any luck. Maybe you could go get Buffy.
     She could just break the door down..." I expected him to argue
     with me, or at the very least respond, but my suggestion was
     greeted with only silence. Worry flooded through me. "Xander?"
     He still didn't answer. Surely he hadn't just left me? I peeked out
     the tiny opening to see if I could find him.

     He hadn't left, but what I saw worried me more that if I hadn't seen
     him at all.

     He was leaned up against the wall opposite the cell and was
     staring at the door with a glassy look in his eyes. His hair was
     plastered to his face, which was extremely pale, and I could see
     that his whole body was practically shaking. What had happened
     to him? Was he sick? "Xander!" He still didn't respond. I had to
     get to him.

     With renewed determination I fully concentrated on the lock. I very
     slowly and deliberately worked the fork prong into the mechanism,
     waiting until I could feel the tumbler turning before trying to
     progress any further. That had been the problem with my previous
     attempts-I had gotten ahead of myself and broken concentration.
     Not this time. Not with Xander's life in the balance.

     Despite my resolution, I was quite surprised when I actually heard
     the lock turning over. I really had managed to do it! I didn't take
     any time to gloat, however-I had a much more pressing matter to
     tend to. I pushed open the door and crossed to Xander. He didn't
     even seem to acknowledge my presence. What was wrong with
     him? I called his name again, hoping to snap him out of his daze,
     but he gave no reaction. Words weren't working, and desperate
     times called for desperate measures, so I slapped him across the
     face, trying to get him to focus. For a brief moment, recognition
     flickered in his eyes, but then he was gone again.

     We didn't have time for this-we had to get out of there or we would
     both be sunk. Maybe if I could get him up and moving...I grabbed
     his arms and pulled him to his feet. He nearly toppled over on me
     and I had to really struggle to hold him up. In spite of the fact that
     his teeth were chattering and he was shivering relentlessly, an
     intense heat radiated from him, indicating that he was likely
     suffering from a high fever. What had they done to him? I
     managed to prop him up against the wall, and after a moment he
     was standing on his own. But he was still suffering from the chill. I
     wished I had something to wrap around him to help combat the
     cold he felt...I abruptly remembered that I was still wearing the
     sweater I had borrowed from Giles. That would certainly fit
     Xander. I pulled it off and turned back to him.

     "Raise your arms, I'm going to put this sweater on you." When he
     didn't respond, I grabbed his arm and started to raise it. To my
     horror, the sudden movement seemed to cause him to turn an
     ashen white and pass out. I tried to catch him, but he was too
     heavy and he knocked me off my feet. I hit the ground hard with
     him landing like a ton of bricks on top of me. For a moment, the
     only thing I could focus on was catching my breath, which had
     totally been knocked out of me by the landing. As air began to
     trickle back into my lungs I became aware of the fact that Xander
     wasn't moving. For an instant, I was even afraid that he wasn't
     breathing, but then I felt his breath against my cheek. Knowing he
     was alive was a major relief, but it didn't solve the problem that he
     wasn't moving and that he was too heavy for me to move-not from
     the awkward position I was in, anyway. I tried rolling him off me,
     but he was dead weight and wouldn't budge. I also couldn't
     manage to squirm out from under him-I was trapped. "Xander,
     please, wake up," I pleaded with him. For a couple of minutes I
     tried to rouse him, but it was no use and I was getting frustrated
     and panicked-it was only a matter of time before one of the guards
     would realize that he was missing and come looking for him. I had
     to get him out of there, and I couldn't even move him. So I had to
     just lie there, worrying frantically about if I could wake him before
     we were captured again...or if he would even wake up. I don't
     think I'd ever been as relieved as I was in the moment when his
     eyes finally fluttered open.

     Even after he woke, it took him a few moments to get oriented
     enough to let me up. The moment he rolled over, I was on my feet
     and reaching down for him-we couldn't waste any more time...

     Unfortunately, Xander was still not in any sort of condition to help
     me-he was obviously too sick to be of much help to me. I really
     had to get that sweater on him to help combat the cold he was
     feeling...I just didn't want to make him pass out again. What had
     caused that anyway? Had they cast some sort of spell on him, or
     something? "Come on, Xander, you've got to get up. Come on,
     you've got to help me get this sweater on you--I can't do this on
     my own. You've got to..." It was doing no good. He didn't look as
     though anything I was saying was registering. On the other hand,
     he was starting to sit up on his own. I decided to bite the bullet
     and just put the sweater on him even if he wasn't going to help
     me. I yanked it down over his head, tactfully ignoring the small
     frightened noises he made. As soon as I had it on over his head I
     reached in to pull his left arm through the arm hole, then reached
     for the right. As I grasped his right hand, however, he cried out
     again and collapsed back to the ground.

     Understanding finally clicked in my mind as I suddenly realized
     that there was something very odd about the way his hand felt. He
     hadn't managed to pick the lock-he had...mutilated his own hand!
     My heart lurched as I gazed at his pale face and listened to his
     ragged breathing. His bravery astounded me...not that I'd ever
     considered him to be cowardly, or anything, but that had to have
     taken a lot of courage. Unfortunately, it also was rendering him to
     be less than helpful in getting us out of there. Xander what have
     you done? One thing was for certain-we couldn't stay out in the
     open like this, and I wasn't going to be able to get him very far
     while he was unconscious. It wasn't the most ideal thing, but I
     decided that I should drag him back into the cell with me. Since
     most of the room was obscured with only that little slot to look
     through, they wouldn't really get a good look into the cell unless
     they actually opened the door, so I'd be able to hide the fact that
     he was there. Of course, if they even thought about turning the
     knob, we'd be screwed when they realized that the door was no
     longer locked. Well, at least we would be less obvious than sitting
     out in the open hallway.

     I grabbed Xander under the arms and carefully dragged him into
     the cell. Before shutting the door I took one last look out into the
     hall to make sure that I wasn't leaving anything behind. I noticed a
     book on the floor and figured that Xander must have been carrying
     it. I picked it up, glancing at the cover. A wedding book. A record
     of all my loved ones from my past lives? It was horrifying to realize
     that the book was filled with the names of people who had
     been...killed...because of me. I turned the book over in my hands,
     contemplating it. Part of me wanted to just toss it away, never to
     be seen by me again-I just couldn't deal with that sort of pain. On
     the other hand, it was an incredible opportunity to learn something
     about myself...my past self anyway. I decided to keep the book
     with me for the time being. I could discard it later if I changed my
     mind.

     I closed the door to the cell, then knelt down by Xander's head.
     His appearance had grown even more colorless, but his breathing
     had returned to almost normal. He would probably be waking up
     soon. I gathered him into my arms and pulled him so that he was
     partially lying in my lap. "You'll be all right," I whispered stroking
     his hair gently. I knew he couldn't hear me, and the words were
     more for my benefit than his. Please, you've got to be okay.