mercy seat part 24
A shorter chapter for you, to tide ya over until Monday or so, when I may post something longer.
Previous parts may be found here
The walls of the warehouse fell away, and Dawn was sitting on the pathway in Yasmine's garden. The walls surrounding the courtyard shook. The birds and butterflies swerved in looping circles in the air. Yasmine stood over her, her hands on her hips.
"He's not here. You have to keep moving."
"What's going on?" Dawn pushed herself to her knees. The world spun for a moment.
Yasmine shrugged. "He's waking up. He usually stops here on the way, but you've shaken him up. He's headed for the chair."
"What is the chair?" Dawn tried to stand, but the ground shook and she fell back to her knees.
"You know," Yasmine took on an air of exasperation and she gestured vaguely with her right hand. "The chair? The switch?"
Dawn pictured the figure in the electric chair. Her nose wrinkled. "Oh. I hate that thing."
"It serves its purpose." Yasmine grabbed Dawn's arm, helping her stand. "He knows you're in here. You have to be quick. Unpredictable."
"Yeah, well, judging by his state of mind?" Dawn glanced around the garden, which was looking considerably less clean and calm than it had last time she was here. "Unpredictable is exactly what he's expecting."
Yasmine crossed her arms. "Well, I have to protect the garden. So you have to deal with the crazy."
"You're real helpful, aren't you."
Yasmine rolled her eyes. "You've been here for, what, a couple hours? I've been here for years, honey, don't tell me what helpful is."
Dawn glared at the other woman for a moment before heading for the path to the door. "I assume that this time this will take me to the conscious mind?"
"Sure. Why not?" Yasmine didn't turn to face Dawn as she stalked past her. Dawn repressed the urge to flick her off.
//Sooo,// Willow seemed as frustrated as Dawn was. //Yasmine is, what, Xander's impudence?//
"Whatever." Dawn paused briefly as the ground heaved again, then kept moving forward. "Anything helpful you'd like to add? Something wacky about flowers maybe?"
"They're red!" Yasmine shouted back.
"Yeah, that's what I thought."
Blue crackles flickered across the pathway, and for the briefest of moments, Dawn seemed to be looking at herself, sitting crosslegged on the path, eyes closed tight. "Eh?"
The apparition was gone as quickly as it came. Yasmine stood beside her.
"Try the other door." She said, before flickering out of existence. Dawn stared at the spot where she stood.
//Another metaphor?// Willow mused. //I guess we'll know when we see it.//
"I hate Xander's brain." Dawn took another step forward, willing herself to wherever Xander-- Picasso-Xander or five-year-old-Xander, crazy-Xander or sane-Xander, she didn't care which, as long as it was XANDER--was. The garden flickered over with blue sparks and spiraled away around her, to be replaced with the mindscape as she'd first seen it. She clenched her jaw and turned.
There was the chair. The figure sitting in it was silent and still, except for the slight rise and fall of its chest. The switch hovered in mid-air just out of reach of her right hand. She started toward the chair; the switch followed her. She ignored it.
//Dawn, what are you--//
"I'm sick of this." Dawn stalked right up to the figure, which seemed to straighten as she approached. "No more metaphors. No more wacky mind-crap." She stopped just in front of the figure in the chair.
//Dawn,//
"I wanna see the man behind the mask."
She tucked her fingers under the polished black leather and jerked it up, Mission Impossible style. The mindscape seemed to hold its breath.
Xander--the wonderful, healthy, whole Xander who Dawn hadn't seen since he left for Africa some four years before--blinked in the sudden light and stared up at her.
Previous parts may be found here
The walls of the warehouse fell away, and Dawn was sitting on the pathway in Yasmine's garden. The walls surrounding the courtyard shook. The birds and butterflies swerved in looping circles in the air. Yasmine stood over her, her hands on her hips.
"He's not here. You have to keep moving."
"What's going on?" Dawn pushed herself to her knees. The world spun for a moment.
Yasmine shrugged. "He's waking up. He usually stops here on the way, but you've shaken him up. He's headed for the chair."
"What is the chair?" Dawn tried to stand, but the ground shook and she fell back to her knees.
"You know," Yasmine took on an air of exasperation and she gestured vaguely with her right hand. "The chair? The switch?"
Dawn pictured the figure in the electric chair. Her nose wrinkled. "Oh. I hate that thing."
"It serves its purpose." Yasmine grabbed Dawn's arm, helping her stand. "He knows you're in here. You have to be quick. Unpredictable."
"Yeah, well, judging by his state of mind?" Dawn glanced around the garden, which was looking considerably less clean and calm than it had last time she was here. "Unpredictable is exactly what he's expecting."
Yasmine crossed her arms. "Well, I have to protect the garden. So you have to deal with the crazy."
"You're real helpful, aren't you."
Yasmine rolled her eyes. "You've been here for, what, a couple hours? I've been here for years, honey, don't tell me what helpful is."
Dawn glared at the other woman for a moment before heading for the path to the door. "I assume that this time this will take me to the conscious mind?"
"Sure. Why not?" Yasmine didn't turn to face Dawn as she stalked past her. Dawn repressed the urge to flick her off.
//Sooo,// Willow seemed as frustrated as Dawn was. //Yasmine is, what, Xander's impudence?//
"Whatever." Dawn paused briefly as the ground heaved again, then kept moving forward. "Anything helpful you'd like to add? Something wacky about flowers maybe?"
"They're red!" Yasmine shouted back.
"Yeah, that's what I thought."
Blue crackles flickered across the pathway, and for the briefest of moments, Dawn seemed to be looking at herself, sitting crosslegged on the path, eyes closed tight. "Eh?"
The apparition was gone as quickly as it came. Yasmine stood beside her.
"Try the other door." She said, before flickering out of existence. Dawn stared at the spot where she stood.
//Another metaphor?// Willow mused. //I guess we'll know when we see it.//
"I hate Xander's brain." Dawn took another step forward, willing herself to wherever Xander-- Picasso-Xander or five-year-old-Xander, crazy-Xander or sane-Xander, she didn't care which, as long as it was XANDER--was. The garden flickered over with blue sparks and spiraled away around her, to be replaced with the mindscape as she'd first seen it. She clenched her jaw and turned.
There was the chair. The figure sitting in it was silent and still, except for the slight rise and fall of its chest. The switch hovered in mid-air just out of reach of her right hand. She started toward the chair; the switch followed her. She ignored it.
//Dawn, what are you--//
"I'm sick of this." Dawn stalked right up to the figure, which seemed to straighten as she approached. "No more metaphors. No more wacky mind-crap." She stopped just in front of the figure in the chair.
//Dawn,//
"I wanna see the man behind the mask."
She tucked her fingers under the polished black leather and jerked it up, Mission Impossible style. The mindscape seemed to hold its breath.
Xander--the wonderful, healthy, whole Xander who Dawn hadn't seen since he left for Africa some four years before--blinked in the sudden light and stared up at her.