The Mercy Seat

Chapter One: The Hole

Xander dreamed of his aunt Edna.

She was actually his great-aunt, his grandmother's younger sister, a slight woman whom Xander had met, when he was very young. She had patted him on the head, remarked that he was going to be a very special young man some day, and then babbled at length about butterflies. His mother had quickly shown her the door.

Aunt Edna was the relative that the Harrises didn't talk about.

She stood in a garden filled with swallow tails, dressed in a fine, purple silk dress. She wore a bright red hat, which didn't suit her at all. She stood with her back facing Xander, but he knew it was her.

"It isn't easy, is it?"

Xander shrugged, and knew that though she was looking the other way, she saw the gesture. "It wouldn't be any fun if it was."

"That's true." Edna lifted one hand, and a butterfly landed on her outstretched finger. "They're beautiful, aren't they?"

"Yes."

"They only live a few days at a time."

Xander watched the butterfly take off again. "That's kinda sad."

"No." Edna turned so he could see her profile. "It's wonderful. They don't live long enough to know pain or heartbreak. Only long enough to do their duty, and then they die. That's the way it's meant to be."

"You've told me."

"It's through longevity that we learn evil, Xander. Remember that. When one lives too long, one attracts it. If one lives when one was meant to die, then only evil can follow."

"I understand."

She faced him then, her eyes filled with a sort of mirth. "Do you?"

"That's why I'm here, isn't it?"

"Yes. It is." She stepped up to him, cupping his left cheek with her right hand. "You're doing a wonderful job, too. This is just a sidetrack. Don't let it derail you. This is what you're meant to do."

"I know." Xander closed his eyes. Her fingers fluttered away from his face, and when he opened them again, she was gone. The butterflies remained, flitting about the garden in a hurried dance, trying to live their lives to the fullest in the few moments they had left. "It hurts though."

"It wouldn't be worth it, if it didn't." Her voice came from nowhere and everywhere at once. Xander smiled.

The butterflies burst into flames, but continued to fly, becoming bright, phoenix-like creatures of fire for a few seconds before they were eaten completely by the flames, and Xander was left, alone, in a scorched garden, as ashes fell all around him.



Her name was Jude. She was nineteen years old, a graduate of Hemery High School, and a frequent visitor to the roadside attraction that was once Sunnydale. She thought it was desolate; that's why she liked it.

When Xander passed out on the gravel, she picked him up by his arms and dragged him over to the Hole, the diner/souvenir shop on the other side of the gravel parking lot. She didn't question why he was there, or where he had come from, as battered as he was. She just knew that she had to help him.

Jude was always taking in strays. She'd nearly lost her right hand to the feral cats that lived in the alleys of her apartment complex. She didn't understand why the ones she took care of always bit her. She didn't question that either. She knew that was the way things worked. She helped things, and they hurt her. The world could be a very simple place.

"You can't bring him in here."

Jude looked around the empty diner, then back at Amelia, the restaurant's only waitress. "Why not? You don't have any customers."

Amelia pointed to a sign to the left of the door. Jude didn't have to look at it, she knew what it said. She laughed.

"So give him one of the souvenir shirts."

"He's not wearing shoes."

"We'll keep him out of the kitchen."

Amelia sighed. Jude smiled. Amelia was a lot like Jude, she took in strays. They didn't always bite Amelia.

"Lie him down in the corner booth."

"Gimme a hand?"

Amelia nodded, and between the two of them, they hefted Xander up onto the bench seat. They had to roll him onto his side, so that if he vomited, he wouldn't drown, and so his back wouldn't be bent the wrong way by his staff.

"Who is he? He looks familiar."

Jude shrugged. "Dunno. He crawled right out of the hole, though. He's hurt."

"I can see that." Amelia leaned down and brushed matted, blood and mud caked hair from Xander's face. She winced. "They're old wounds though, he's not bleeding. He got a wallet?"

"Nope."

Xander moaned softly and rubbed his arm in his sleep.

"What are you going to do with him, Jude?"

"Dunno." Jude sat down on the bench across from her latest stray. "Wait till he wakes up, I guess. It would take forever to get an ambulance out here for him."

"We could contact the park service."

"One more injury in the hole, and they'll close us down."

Amelia nodded. Not too many people visited Sunnydale any more. When they'd first opened, after all the geologists and researchers had left, it had been quite a hot spot, as Californians satisfied its morbid curiosity by visiting what basically amounted to the vast grave of an entire town. But morbid curiosity only went so far, and now, four years after Sunnydale had first fallen into the earth, Amelia and Jude were really the only ones left.

To be honest, they liked it better that way.

She studied Xander a little bit longer. "Shit, he looks familiar."

"Maybe he was a local?" Jude tilted her head.

Amelia nodded silently, leaning forward a little bit farther. Some of Xander's hair still hung over his face, and she pushed it back gently. Xander moaned and shifted again. Amelia sucked a breath in through her teeth, catching sight of what was left of his left eye. "Shit."

"What's up?"

"I think I know who this guy is."

Jude smirked at her. "Old ex-boyfriend?"

"Not hardly." Amelia straightened, looking Jude straight in the eye. "It's HIM."

Jude straightened abruptly. "Really? You think so?"

"Only met him once, but his eye's missing."

Jude whistled and shook her head. "The prodigal son returning. Holy crap."

"Shit." Amelia pushed herself back away from the table. "You stay with him, I'll go call the council."

Jude nodded, not taking her eyes off of Xander. Xander-fuckin-Harris had just crawled out of the Sunnydale sinkhole, right in front of her. "Shit, dude, they're gonna give me a damned slayer medal of honor for this."

She grinned and sat back, waiting for him to awaken.



Willow leaned her chin on her hand as she worked the scroll-wheel of her mouse. She scanned the coroner's report for the third time, then closed her eyes. She didn't open them again until the scent of tea reached her nose.

Giles stepped back from where he'd placed the mug in front of her. "I believe I can assume from the look on your face that the news is not entirely good."

Willow blew across the surface of the tea, watching it ripple. "Not entirely, no, in that way that means not even a little bit at all." She leaned back in her seat, lifting the tea to her lips. "It's definitely Ulrike."

Giles cursed softly. "How many slayers is that, then?"

"Forty-seven, over all." Willow shrugged. "Which, hey considering how many girls were called? That's not too bad, right?"

"Is that including Dana?"

"Forty-six, then."

Dana had taken her own life a few months before. She had only just been released from psychiatric treatment, at Giles' own discretion. She had made it two weeks before coming home from a patrol one night, and hanging herself in the bathroom.

Forty-six slayers had died in various supernatural ways in the past four years. Giles shook his head. "How many in the last year?"

"Giles," Willow clutched at her own mug, and watched her mentor lean against the door way. He looked old. His hair had gone entirely white, and there wasn't a great deal left of it on top. He looked fragile. Even when she'd been trying to kill him he hadn't looked fragile. "You already know this."

"How many, Willow?"

"Four," Willow shut her eyes. "Including Dana."

"Forty-three girls in three years." Giles pushed himself away from the doorway. "I am beginning to suspect we should never have done that spell."

"It was the only thing we could do." Willow leaned her head back. "There were only five we knew of, that first year."

"I am aware of that."

"There's no way he could have killed thirty-eight slayers." Willow shut her eyes again. "It's just not possible. Is it?"

"I don't know." Giles finished his tea, setting the mug to one side. "You and I are the only ones who even seem to think that he might have. The deaths all but stopped, when he--"

"I know." Willow put her head back on her hand. "That's also when we defeated the Immortal, though. That might have something to do with it."

"I suspect we aren't going to find out." Giles straightened. "Ulrike," he gestured to the monitor. "Will she rise?"

"I've got Mike and Vera on patrol. There was some blood in her stomach, but the coroners aren't saying if it was hers. She won't last long, if she does."

"Yes. Good." Giles startled suddenly, jerking away from the door. "Blasted--" He pulled his cell phone from his pocket. "I left the bloody thing on vibrate again."

Willow giggled. Giles shot her a dark look.

"I was at the cinema."

"Of course you were."

Giles shot her another look, then flipped the tiny phone open. "Rupert Giles speaking," His eyebrows shot up. "Are you quite certain? . . . No, no, of course not. And Genevieve? . . . Yes, well, this is quite a surprise. . . . No, of course, you're right. We might have expected this. . . . Stay where you are, and keep him there. We shall send someone over straight away. Thank you Amelia." He snapped it closed, staring at the far wall. "Astonishing. What time did Ulrike die?"

"Last night, about 1:30 am in Berlin." Willow frowned. "What's going on?"

"It seems Amelia and Jude may have just located Xander."

Willow snapped upright. "They . . . Amelia's stationed . . ."

"At the crater, yes. They're not certain it's him, yet. Apparently, he's unconscious. You do realize what this means, don't you?"

Willow nodded. "I'll go." She stood, turning off the monitor, then paused. "He couldn't have . . . Ulrike was in Berlin."

"I know." Giles took off his glasses. "But we must remain prepared."

Willow looked miserable. "Yeah."



"He's waking up." Jude leaned halfway across the table, glancing over her shoulder at Amelia, who was returning from the back office. "Get him some water, ‘Melia, and some of those potato skins."

"We're all out of skins, darlin', you know that."

"Then a grilled cheese. He's gonna be hungry."

Amelia nodded, then shuffled off to the empty kitchen to grill the sandwich. Jude leaned further across the table, trying to catch sight of her find.

"Dude, you awake?"

Xander blinked open his eye, but was greeted with only petrified gum. He shut his eye, shook his head slightly, then pushed himself up.

The diner was small, taking up half of the double-wide trailor of a building, and most of that was the kitchen. The other half was filled with dust covered souvenirs: bags of cheerios labeled "donut seeds", the obligatory paper weights with religious sayings engraved on them, and ashtrays decorated with a scenic overhead view of the sinkhole. He looked over at Jude, who smiled at him. He raised an eyebrow.

"Welcome to the Hole, dude, Sunnydale's only remaining business. We're a small, close-knit community, that keeps to ourselves. We kicked Starbucks out last year."

Xander let his eye drift towards the window. He could only barely make out Sunnydale beyond the fence. He rubbed at his arm.

"Yeah, not too many people go into the Hole these days." Jude leaned back. "Just me and Amelia, mostly. You're the first other person we've seen all day."

Xander nodded slightly. Amelia approached with his water and sandwich, which Xander accepted with a faint smile. Amelia hooked a chair with her ankle and settled in for a chat.

"I'm Amelia." She held out her hand to shake. Xander, still rubbing his arm, looked at it for a bit too long before taking it. When he did, he winced at the sight of his scraped appendage against her smooth, pale one. "That's Jude. This is the Hole. That's about all you need to know."

Xander nodded again, and took a long drink of his water.

Jude shot a glance over at Amelia, who was studying Xander intently. She forced her voice to sound casual. "So, what brings you to Sunnydale, dude?"

Xander blinked at Jude, not quite comprehending the question. When he finally worked it out, he didn't know the answer, so he shrugged, stuffing half the grilled cheese into his maw as he did so. Amelia batted at his hand.

"Not so fast, there, tiger. You'll make yourself sick."

"It's all good," Jude folded her hands behind her head. "Most people around here don't know what they've come for, either. Me, I come for the quiet. This place is like no place else on earth."

"It does have its dark charm to it." Amelia nodded. There was a certain forced tone to her speech, like she was trying to lead him to a response. Both of them were tense. "I don't know what it is about this town, but it seems like something's there, even after it sank. It was like the ‘Dale was the secret center of the universe. Like every week there was a new fight for the fate of the world, but no one ever knew. Know what I mean, Tiger?"

Xander nodded slightly. When he spoke, his voice sounded like Jude's tires on the parking lot. "It's the mouth of hell."

"Hey, Silent Bob speaks." Jude grinned at him. "Mouth of hell, huh? Take it you're not much of a Hole fan, then." She glanced over his bare chest. "‘Course, just about looks like you'd be the one to know."

Xander blinked at her. She wasn't talking exceptionally quickly, but he found it hard to follow her when she spoke. Like a bunch of other noises were all battling for his attention. "I lived here."

Jude's eyes shot sideways to where Amelia was sitting. Xander tensed sharply. "A native. We haven't had a native come through in years."

Amelia tilted her head at him. "What's your name, tiger?"

"Xander."

They shared another glance, and Xander tensed again, shifting his weight. He could feel his staff move across his back, and was somehow reassured. He glanced out over the parking lot. Secret center of the universe, huh?

Amelia was leaning forward, now, peering at him. He caught her glance and shrank away slightly. "Easy, Tiger. It's gonna be alright. I called Mr. Giles for ya. Just wanted to make sure of who you were."

Xander choked slightly on his grilled cheese, and spent several long moments coughing. Memory- whispers rattled through his ears, sounds of screams and gunshots and things catching fire. He closed his eye and struggled to take a breath.

"Told you to slow down on that thing."

Xander shook his head again. He'd been thinking he needed to contact Giles, himself, but the moment the woman had said his name, he'd felt a blast of panic run through him. "What's going on?"

This time Jude leaned toward him. He flinched. She smiled, slowing her movements. Her voice was low. "We come in peace, dude. ‘Melia and I are slayers, we'll take care of you. I know you're spooked, now, but it's going to be alright."

Xander shook his head, his eye darting from one to the other of them. "How do you know me?"

"We've met, actually. About three years ago." Amelia smiled, sadly. "It's June 11, by the way. Um, 2007. You've been gone a little more than a year."

Xander gaped at her, then belatedly swallowed a mouthful of grilled cheese. He felt sick. His hand rubbed at his arm again. The air conditioning rattled through his head and battered at his skin like a wall of sound. He bit down on a giggle that tried to escape as the two slayers stared at him. Jude frowned. He swallowed convulsively, his hand now squeezing hard against his biceps as it rubbed. Amelia sat back, slightly. Jude reached out a hand.

"Hey, dude, it's okay. You're okay now."

Amelia shook her head at Jude. "We should give you a minute. Giles said they're sending someone right on over for you, so just try to relax. I put a shirt in the bathroom for you, if you want to go clean up a little, okay?"

Xander squeezed his eye shut. His upper body had started to rock. He nodded, having only barely listened to what Amelia was saying.

The last thing he remembered was being in Johannesburg. It had been the very beginnings of summer, then, in the southern hemisphere. November. 2003.

He'd been missing a hell of a lot longer than a year.