DISCLAIMER: Hey y'all . just wanted to remind you that I don't own any of
the characters, don't sue poor university students . this chapter might be
a little short cuz I'm super busy, but I just might update it later . the
song's a wicked one, it's 'For Me This is Heaven' by Jimmy Eat World, and
the little snippet is from 'Amazing Grace' (yea for playing Master of the
Obvious!). Cheers!
The first star I see may not be a star.
We can't do a thing but wait.
So let's wait for one more.
The time such clumsy time in deciding if it's time.
I'm careful but not sure how it goes.
You can loose yourself in your courage.
The mindless comfort grows when I'm alone with my 'great' plans.
This is what she says gets her through it:
"If I don't let myself by happy now then when?"
If not now when?
When the time we have now ends.
When the big hand goes round again.
Can you still feel the butterflies?
Can you still hear the last goodnight?
Close my eyes and believe wherever you are, an angel for me.
****************************
The world crumbled around him. Fiery stars still descended on the City of Angels- burning, devouring. The sky had taken on a dull, orange hue; the scent of sulfur wafted on the air. Then there were the screams. It was-
(-Hell on Earth-)
'Yes,' Angel mused, strolling non-chalantly through the city as if he were taking a casual evening walk. His hands were shoved into the deep pockets of his duster, his features pensive, yet slightly amused. 'Hell on Earth and there's nothing I can do to stop it.'
At first, he had fought. Even after his brutal defeat to the Beast, the near-slaughter of all his friends, then after witnessing Cordelia and Connor, together-
(-And I do believe my poor, undead heart shattered into a million pieces at that precise moment-)
-even after that, he had continued to struggle, to rage against the evil.
Even with the hopelessness becoming a heavy, penetrating ache in his soul, he had fought. Helped put out small fires, stop looters from ransacking downtown boutiques, pulled a few hapless victims to safety. But hours passed, and the blazes grew stronger; the rumble of earthquakes rocked L.A.
And Angel had realized . it was just getting worse. One more saved innocent wouldn't matter, because it was almost over anyway. That last thought washed over him serenely, accompanied by a desperate relief. So close to . freedom? He broke down. It was selfish, but it after everything, it was welcome.
(-I'm almost done-)
Angel continued through the broken streets, taking in the mayhem with a measure of indifference. He was a specter, a lost dream of the big city, stumbling through cracked cinder blocks and a thick layer of all- encompassing dust. No one noticed this is exceptionally pale, smiling young man, but the circumstances didn't exactly lend themselves to critical observation.
(-It's finished . finished-)
The sky looked like it was on fire.
(-Finally.-)
Then . something changed. A shift in the winds, a change in temperatures . Angel's keen senses roared in response. Vague and intangible, but still there . The air felt cleaner, purified of the ozone, after-burning tang; the eternal night that had descended on L.A seemed a little less impenetrable. It was-
(-a clean slate?-)
Angel felt a chill creep up his spine. He paused, cocked his ear to some distant disturbance. Something . no, someone had arrived. He knew, beyond anything he had ever believed to of known . and it was going to change everything.
Sudden adrenaline coursed through his bloodless veins. Angel took off at a breakneck sprint, racing like a madman through Los Angeles' deserted streets, his long, dark jacket billowing behind him.
(-Through many dangers, toils and snares I have already come-)
There was a presence . a lingering familiarity, but it felt like the pale ghost of some old emotion. This was distinctly new, evolved. A fluctuation of the fates; relocation to the order of the universe. Yes, something had changed.
(-'Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home-)
Suddenly, it mattered again. Gunn and Fred and Lorne and Wesley . even Connor and Cordelia. He could help . yes, he could do something. His shattered spirit was almost mended; he felt a genuine surge of . hope since the destruction and chaos had begun.
(-to live?-)
Angel's pace slowed significantly as the thoughts churned through his mind. To suffer those same punishments he'd endured for so long? Loneliness, guilt, regret . a quest for atonement littered with bodies. To be robbed of the things he held dear, deprived of everything he craved, and be cruelly taunted with this knowledge every single day.
There was a moment of hesitation; the sweet temptation of escape was so close . but still he ran. Faster. His decision had been made. Because this new arrival was more important than his pain or liberation . it could maybe save them all.
************
The light was too bright.
(-whathefuck?-)
His back ached. It hurt to breath.
Everything felt real.
(-whatheFUCK?!-)
All his senses were assaulted at once: myriad scents filled his nose, he was equally chilled and insufferably hot, that harsh, blinding light invaded his eyesight . every fibre of his being throbbed with a deep, penetrating pain.
He squinted against the piercing glare (-is it fire?-), flexed his left hand experimentally. Raised the other hand to his face, feeling several days' worth of stubble and the ridge of scar tissue along his brow. Breath still came in hissing, desperate gasps, his lungs readjusting to the earth's unique atmosphere.
(-alive?-)
Doyle gingerly rose from the . dock, he was laying on a dock, inspected his surroundings. A habour, now deserted and ill-kept but recently used. Covered in soot. And the city, ripe with madness and bedlam, bathed in the red, feverish glow of flame .
(-the city of Angels-)
Angels . Angel.
(-it's burning-)
He remembered.
He remembered everything.
****************************
A/N: I know this one was short and not so good, but I'll have another chapter posted by Wednesday or Thursday, I promise!!! Remember, a review is the gift that keeps on giving!
The first star I see may not be a star.
We can't do a thing but wait.
So let's wait for one more.
The time such clumsy time in deciding if it's time.
I'm careful but not sure how it goes.
You can loose yourself in your courage.
The mindless comfort grows when I'm alone with my 'great' plans.
This is what she says gets her through it:
"If I don't let myself by happy now then when?"
If not now when?
When the time we have now ends.
When the big hand goes round again.
Can you still feel the butterflies?
Can you still hear the last goodnight?
Close my eyes and believe wherever you are, an angel for me.
****************************
The world crumbled around him. Fiery stars still descended on the City of Angels- burning, devouring. The sky had taken on a dull, orange hue; the scent of sulfur wafted on the air. Then there were the screams. It was-
(-Hell on Earth-)
'Yes,' Angel mused, strolling non-chalantly through the city as if he were taking a casual evening walk. His hands were shoved into the deep pockets of his duster, his features pensive, yet slightly amused. 'Hell on Earth and there's nothing I can do to stop it.'
At first, he had fought. Even after his brutal defeat to the Beast, the near-slaughter of all his friends, then after witnessing Cordelia and Connor, together-
(-And I do believe my poor, undead heart shattered into a million pieces at that precise moment-)
-even after that, he had continued to struggle, to rage against the evil.
Even with the hopelessness becoming a heavy, penetrating ache in his soul, he had fought. Helped put out small fires, stop looters from ransacking downtown boutiques, pulled a few hapless victims to safety. But hours passed, and the blazes grew stronger; the rumble of earthquakes rocked L.A.
And Angel had realized . it was just getting worse. One more saved innocent wouldn't matter, because it was almost over anyway. That last thought washed over him serenely, accompanied by a desperate relief. So close to . freedom? He broke down. It was selfish, but it after everything, it was welcome.
(-I'm almost done-)
Angel continued through the broken streets, taking in the mayhem with a measure of indifference. He was a specter, a lost dream of the big city, stumbling through cracked cinder blocks and a thick layer of all- encompassing dust. No one noticed this is exceptionally pale, smiling young man, but the circumstances didn't exactly lend themselves to critical observation.
(-It's finished . finished-)
The sky looked like it was on fire.
(-Finally.-)
Then . something changed. A shift in the winds, a change in temperatures . Angel's keen senses roared in response. Vague and intangible, but still there . The air felt cleaner, purified of the ozone, after-burning tang; the eternal night that had descended on L.A seemed a little less impenetrable. It was-
(-a clean slate?-)
Angel felt a chill creep up his spine. He paused, cocked his ear to some distant disturbance. Something . no, someone had arrived. He knew, beyond anything he had ever believed to of known . and it was going to change everything.
Sudden adrenaline coursed through his bloodless veins. Angel took off at a breakneck sprint, racing like a madman through Los Angeles' deserted streets, his long, dark jacket billowing behind him.
(-Through many dangers, toils and snares I have already come-)
There was a presence . a lingering familiarity, but it felt like the pale ghost of some old emotion. This was distinctly new, evolved. A fluctuation of the fates; relocation to the order of the universe. Yes, something had changed.
(-'Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home-)
Suddenly, it mattered again. Gunn and Fred and Lorne and Wesley . even Connor and Cordelia. He could help . yes, he could do something. His shattered spirit was almost mended; he felt a genuine surge of . hope since the destruction and chaos had begun.
(-to live?-)
Angel's pace slowed significantly as the thoughts churned through his mind. To suffer those same punishments he'd endured for so long? Loneliness, guilt, regret . a quest for atonement littered with bodies. To be robbed of the things he held dear, deprived of everything he craved, and be cruelly taunted with this knowledge every single day.
There was a moment of hesitation; the sweet temptation of escape was so close . but still he ran. Faster. His decision had been made. Because this new arrival was more important than his pain or liberation . it could maybe save them all.
************
The light was too bright.
(-whathefuck?-)
His back ached. It hurt to breath.
Everything felt real.
(-whatheFUCK?!-)
All his senses were assaulted at once: myriad scents filled his nose, he was equally chilled and insufferably hot, that harsh, blinding light invaded his eyesight . every fibre of his being throbbed with a deep, penetrating pain.
He squinted against the piercing glare (-is it fire?-), flexed his left hand experimentally. Raised the other hand to his face, feeling several days' worth of stubble and the ridge of scar tissue along his brow. Breath still came in hissing, desperate gasps, his lungs readjusting to the earth's unique atmosphere.
(-alive?-)
Doyle gingerly rose from the . dock, he was laying on a dock, inspected his surroundings. A habour, now deserted and ill-kept but recently used. Covered in soot. And the city, ripe with madness and bedlam, bathed in the red, feverish glow of flame .
(-the city of Angels-)
Angels . Angel.
(-it's burning-)
He remembered.
He remembered everything.
****************************
A/N: I know this one was short and not so good, but I'll have another chapter posted by Wednesday or Thursday, I promise!!! Remember, a review is the gift that keeps on giving!