The Mercy Seat (part 17)
This one is a bit short, another dream sequence.
And yes, I think I'm now officially avoiding writing the Angel part that I know has to come really, really soon. He has to play at least a sympathetic role here, and, well . . . I dislike Angel.
If I'm guilty of ever, in my (counts on fingers) 8ish years of writing Buffy fic, character bashing, it was Angel who received the beating.
Let's see if I can pull this off.
Vocabish note: CNA - Certified Nurse's Aide. A position that does not require the full medical training of a Nurse, but does require training and doing rather a lot of the dirty work of nursing. Just thought I'd clear that up for those who didn't know.
Previous parts may be found here
He was back in Edna's garden.
The plants were scarred by fire. There were no butterflies. The concrete path between the ferns was split into sharply angled chunks that cut at his bare feet.
Only the arched stone bench was unmarred. Xander made his way over to it and sat down. His body ached and his muscles twitched uncomfortably. He glanced around for any sign of his great-aunt, but the garden was deserted.
He thought he caught sight of someone, a man, standing just outside his peripheral vision, but when he turned to look, there was only a charred, leafless tree where the man had stood.
"She's not here."
Xander twisted his head around. Edna's CNA sat to his left on the bench. Her scrubs were dark grey, and her eyes were covered by a sleep mask.
"Where is she?"
"She's gone." The CNA, Yasmine, he remembered, tilted her head away from him. "You killed her."
Xander let his head drop. "She wanted it."
Yasmine tilted her head back toward him, seeming to regard him seriously even through the thick, black mask. "Why am I here?"
Xander shrugged. "I don't know." He ran his hands through his hair. "I don't--I don't know much of anything right now."
Another flash of person struck his retina, this time a teenaged girl. She vanished just as quickly as the man had.
"Am I here to help? You brought me in here, you have to tell me what's going on!"
"I don't KNOW!" Xander's hand moved before he could think, catching Yasmine across her jaw and sending her spilling to the cracked concrete. He stared at his fingers.
"You do know." Yasmine made no effort to get up off the ground. A long cut had appeared on her cheek when he'd struck her, leading close to her left eye. "You know everything that's going on here. You just won't admit it."
"No, no I don't, I don't remember, I don't--"
The flashes on his retina where happening faster. The man and a series of young girls appeared all around him, one moment there, the next not. They were all talking to him, some of them pleading, some of them crying. The man was smiling.
"Who are you?" He stood and squeezed his hands into fists, but the figures didn't stop. They didn't answer him. They fought each other, and bled, and screamed, and they were surrounding him, and Yasmine was pushed out of the way.
"Who are you?" He tried again, spinning in place. The figures flashed by faster, but he was somehow able to make out more detail. Two African teens wrapped their arms around each other in a strange, carnal embrace, one bleeding heavily from the stomach, the other seemingly sewn together at all her joints. A black haired girl and a woman in a waitress uniform bracketed the garden, bleeding from matching chest wounds. A latino girl, maybe twelve years old, was missing a good half of her skull, and a pale skinned teenager, wearing torn and battered clothing, clutched a long staff in her left hand, and her bleeding throat in another. They all stared at him.
Someone grabbed his shoulder and he spun. Yasmine's mask was gone, but her eyes were a blind, milky white behind her narrowed lids. She grabbed his other shoulder and shook him roughly. "Don't you get it? They're IN you, after what you've done. They're right here," She smacked the side of his head. "And it's all your fault. I can help you, I think, but you have to know the truth. This. Is. Your. Fault."
"No." Xander shook his head, trying to pull back, but Yasmine was stronger than she looked. "No, it's not, it's not my fault." He locked gazes with the man, who leaned against a scorched pillar, grinning. "It's his fault. I didn't want this. He did this to me. He did it!"
The man never stopped smiling as he slowly shook his head.
"Focus!" Yasmine smacked him again. "He didn't start this."
"It's his fault, his fault, I didn't want this," Xander kept shaking his head, and the garden started to spin sickeningly. His limbs kept twitching, and he couldn't break free of the nurse's aide's grip. He screamed.
"I don't remember!"
And the garden was empty again. He stumbled, and something crunched under his boot (when did he put on boots?). A dead swallow-tailed butterfly lay crushed against the pavement. Similar carcasses littered the entire garden. He swallowed.
"Will you let me help you?"
Yasmine was standing at the doorway to the garden, her hands gripping the back of an old fashioned, wooden wheel chair. Her eyes were their regular hazel, and her scrubs were bright blue, with brilliant red flowers scattered across the top. She curled her lips, showing her teeth.
Xander nodded, and slowly stumbled towards her. He lowered himself into the chair and she patted him gently on the head.
"There now." She spoke with Edna's voice. "That wasn't so bad, now, was it?"
<--{17}-->
Wooo! Not bad, considering I'm, er, half-drunk, tired from boredom, and have spent the last few days reading Alias fanfic almost exclusively. That epic, tentatively titled "Left My Love Incognito", might just go out for "publication" pretty soon. Hopefully this will not detract from either Mercy Seat or Fanon Fodder.
I've nearly given up on A and O, for the time being. It's just . . . not hitting me the way this stuff is, right now.
ETA On Fanon Fodder: The next part should be up at some point this week.... This depends on me receiving the first DVD of My Little Pony on Wednesday, as Netflix has semi-promised. Yes, you read that right, My Little Pony.
And yes, I think I'm now officially avoiding writing the Angel part that I know has to come really, really soon. He has to play at least a sympathetic role here, and, well . . . I dislike Angel.
If I'm guilty of ever, in my (counts on fingers) 8ish years of writing Buffy fic, character bashing, it was Angel who received the beating.
Let's see if I can pull this off.
Vocabish note: CNA - Certified Nurse's Aide. A position that does not require the full medical training of a Nurse, but does require training and doing rather a lot of the dirty work of nursing. Just thought I'd clear that up for those who didn't know.
Previous parts may be found here
He was back in Edna's garden.
The plants were scarred by fire. There were no butterflies. The concrete path between the ferns was split into sharply angled chunks that cut at his bare feet.
Only the arched stone bench was unmarred. Xander made his way over to it and sat down. His body ached and his muscles twitched uncomfortably. He glanced around for any sign of his great-aunt, but the garden was deserted.
He thought he caught sight of someone, a man, standing just outside his peripheral vision, but when he turned to look, there was only a charred, leafless tree where the man had stood.
"She's not here."
Xander twisted his head around. Edna's CNA sat to his left on the bench. Her scrubs were dark grey, and her eyes were covered by a sleep mask.
"Where is she?"
"She's gone." The CNA, Yasmine, he remembered, tilted her head away from him. "You killed her."
Xander let his head drop. "She wanted it."
Yasmine tilted her head back toward him, seeming to regard him seriously even through the thick, black mask. "Why am I here?"
Xander shrugged. "I don't know." He ran his hands through his hair. "I don't--I don't know much of anything right now."
Another flash of person struck his retina, this time a teenaged girl. She vanished just as quickly as the man had.
"Am I here to help? You brought me in here, you have to tell me what's going on!"
"I don't KNOW!" Xander's hand moved before he could think, catching Yasmine across her jaw and sending her spilling to the cracked concrete. He stared at his fingers.
"You do know." Yasmine made no effort to get up off the ground. A long cut had appeared on her cheek when he'd struck her, leading close to her left eye. "You know everything that's going on here. You just won't admit it."
"No, no I don't, I don't remember, I don't--"
The flashes on his retina where happening faster. The man and a series of young girls appeared all around him, one moment there, the next not. They were all talking to him, some of them pleading, some of them crying. The man was smiling.
"Who are you?" He stood and squeezed his hands into fists, but the figures didn't stop. They didn't answer him. They fought each other, and bled, and screamed, and they were surrounding him, and Yasmine was pushed out of the way.
"Who are you?" He tried again, spinning in place. The figures flashed by faster, but he was somehow able to make out more detail. Two African teens wrapped their arms around each other in a strange, carnal embrace, one bleeding heavily from the stomach, the other seemingly sewn together at all her joints. A black haired girl and a woman in a waitress uniform bracketed the garden, bleeding from matching chest wounds. A latino girl, maybe twelve years old, was missing a good half of her skull, and a pale skinned teenager, wearing torn and battered clothing, clutched a long staff in her left hand, and her bleeding throat in another. They all stared at him.
Someone grabbed his shoulder and he spun. Yasmine's mask was gone, but her eyes were a blind, milky white behind her narrowed lids. She grabbed his other shoulder and shook him roughly. "Don't you get it? They're IN you, after what you've done. They're right here," She smacked the side of his head. "And it's all your fault. I can help you, I think, but you have to know the truth. This. Is. Your. Fault."
"No." Xander shook his head, trying to pull back, but Yasmine was stronger than she looked. "No, it's not, it's not my fault." He locked gazes with the man, who leaned against a scorched pillar, grinning. "It's his fault. I didn't want this. He did this to me. He did it!"
The man never stopped smiling as he slowly shook his head.
"Focus!" Yasmine smacked him again. "He didn't start this."
"It's his fault, his fault, I didn't want this," Xander kept shaking his head, and the garden started to spin sickeningly. His limbs kept twitching, and he couldn't break free of the nurse's aide's grip. He screamed.
"I don't remember!"
And the garden was empty again. He stumbled, and something crunched under his boot (when did he put on boots?). A dead swallow-tailed butterfly lay crushed against the pavement. Similar carcasses littered the entire garden. He swallowed.
"Will you let me help you?"
Yasmine was standing at the doorway to the garden, her hands gripping the back of an old fashioned, wooden wheel chair. Her eyes were their regular hazel, and her scrubs were bright blue, with brilliant red flowers scattered across the top. She curled her lips, showing her teeth.
Xander nodded, and slowly stumbled towards her. He lowered himself into the chair and she patted him gently on the head.
"There now." She spoke with Edna's voice. "That wasn't so bad, now, was it?"
<--{17}-->
Wooo! Not bad, considering I'm, er, half-drunk, tired from boredom, and have spent the last few days reading Alias fanfic almost exclusively. That epic, tentatively titled "Left My Love Incognito", might just go out for "publication" pretty soon. Hopefully this will not detract from either Mercy Seat or Fanon Fodder.
I've nearly given up on A and O, for the time being. It's just . . . not hitting me the way this stuff is, right now.
ETA On Fanon Fodder: The next part should be up at some point this week.... This depends on me receiving the first DVD of My Little Pony on Wednesday, as Netflix has semi-promised. Yes, you read that right, My Little Pony.