DISCLAIMER: As most of you probably now know, Glenn Quinn passed away last
week. I'm still reeling from the news ... no words can rightfully express
the loss we've all experienced. He will be greatly missed, but always
remembered: "May you be in Heaven half an hour before the Devil knows
you're dead" ... This fanfiction, as well as all those Doyle-related
stories to follow, will be dedicated to the memory of Glenn. I know it's
not much, but it's the best I can offer to my long-time, and now dearly
departed, inspiration. Slainte, my friend ... Just to keep you updated, the
rain of fire continues still, The Beast goes undefeated and Doyle has
returned. The song's 'Exit Music (For A Film) by Radiohead.
A/N: Sorry, I know this is getting long, but I wanted to address some of my much-adored reviewers:
Shanid- Don't worry, they'll be lots of dialogue in this chapter and every forthcoming episode. As for diminishing characters like Wes and Gunn, I promise I won't, but keep in mind that Cordelia and Angel will be featured predominantly at first, because they're the ones actually connected to Doyle. But I love the rest of the Fang Gang, and they will get their play soon ... as for the Scoobies, you'll just have to wait and see! ;)
Insane- Thank you so much for your wonderful review. Encouragement like yours' is so inspiring!
******************
wake from your dreams
the drying of your tears
today we escape
we escape
pack and get dressed
before your father hears us
before all hell breaks loose
breathe keep breathing
don't loose your nerve
breathe keep breathing
i can't do this alone
sing us a song
a song to keep us warm
there's such a chill, such a chill
you can laugh
a spineless laugh
we hope your rules and wisdom choke you
now we are one
in everlasting peace
we hope that you choke, that you choke
************************
Whistler sighed.
The weight of the world was in that breath.
(-Must we do this again, kiddies?-)
The glow of the fires-now engulfing all of Los Angeles-reflected in his steel grey eyes. Eyes that had seen centuries of conflict, loss of innocents and the slow death of good. Eyes that betrayed a deep and gnawing grief for the pitiful human race, while the rest of his ruddy features displayed only sarcasm and smug arrogance. He sighed again.
Once more, total apocalypse threatened the existence of Earth and all its' inhabitants. Another being who sought to nullify the planet's existence. Whistler watched the hoards of frantic, scrambling people; the populace of L.A spilling out into the streets with suitcases and boxes and small children, fleeing their burning, doomed city. Traffic filled the streets; every road was crammed with vehicles desperate to escape Los Angeles. The clarion of horns filled the air, shrill honking, like a frightened, manic medley. Many simply abandoned their cars, and lugging as many useless goods as they could, ran for the hills.
(-Like lambs to the slaughter-)
Whistler dutifully straightened the collar of his black leather jacket, adjusted the angle of his jauntily-tilted hat. There was work to be done, a balance to be restored. His faith in The Powers That Be had sometimes wavered, been often doubt, but they always managed to get it right in the end.
Until Buffy fell in love with a vampire. That's when the PTB's tediously- managed equilibrium began to crumble, and things started to go wrong. Angel was sent to Hell; a big bad on the part of the People Upstairs, remedied only by the sudden return of ceid-vampire Warrior. Faith started playing for the evil side of the kickball game, though last Whistler heard she'd atoned for past crimes. People died who weren't meant to, like the half- demon martyr Doyle and a certain blond Slayer. Children were sprung from the loins of chaos and destruction, their destinies unforeseen and precarious: Dawn the human embodiment of the Key, and Connor the vampiric spawn raised in a Hell dimension.
(-And we don't even know what he's made of yet-)
The Powers That Be were loosing control, and the pendulum (for so long still and neutral) was swinging dangerously close towards The Evil ... Whistler chuckled humourlessly. He surveyed the ruins of Los Angeles, gazing upon the charred remains of the once-thriving city, now half- deserted and permeated with anarchy.
The energy in the air shifted again, like it had upon Doyle's arrival. Within the City of Angels, amid the chaos and burning, more demons, brethren of the Beast, sprang from the ground, rising from the bowels of the Earth to slaughter the remaining populace.
(-How much closer can you get?-)
Whistler was quite certain that somewhere, some god must be laughing.
**********************
We hope that you choke, that you choke.
A/N: Okay, okay I know this one was super, super short and didn't have any Doyle (or any dialogue, for that matter) in it, but it's all I had time to write, what with exams coming up, and I didn't want to wait like, three weeks between updates. The next chapter will be done pretty soon; I've already got a page or so written! Cheers!
A/N: Sorry, I know this is getting long, but I wanted to address some of my much-adored reviewers:
Shanid- Don't worry, they'll be lots of dialogue in this chapter and every forthcoming episode. As for diminishing characters like Wes and Gunn, I promise I won't, but keep in mind that Cordelia and Angel will be featured predominantly at first, because they're the ones actually connected to Doyle. But I love the rest of the Fang Gang, and they will get their play soon ... as for the Scoobies, you'll just have to wait and see! ;)
Insane- Thank you so much for your wonderful review. Encouragement like yours' is so inspiring!
******************
wake from your dreams
the drying of your tears
today we escape
we escape
pack and get dressed
before your father hears us
before all hell breaks loose
breathe keep breathing
don't loose your nerve
breathe keep breathing
i can't do this alone
sing us a song
a song to keep us warm
there's such a chill, such a chill
you can laugh
a spineless laugh
we hope your rules and wisdom choke you
now we are one
in everlasting peace
we hope that you choke, that you choke
************************
Whistler sighed.
The weight of the world was in that breath.
(-Must we do this again, kiddies?-)
The glow of the fires-now engulfing all of Los Angeles-reflected in his steel grey eyes. Eyes that had seen centuries of conflict, loss of innocents and the slow death of good. Eyes that betrayed a deep and gnawing grief for the pitiful human race, while the rest of his ruddy features displayed only sarcasm and smug arrogance. He sighed again.
Once more, total apocalypse threatened the existence of Earth and all its' inhabitants. Another being who sought to nullify the planet's existence. Whistler watched the hoards of frantic, scrambling people; the populace of L.A spilling out into the streets with suitcases and boxes and small children, fleeing their burning, doomed city. Traffic filled the streets; every road was crammed with vehicles desperate to escape Los Angeles. The clarion of horns filled the air, shrill honking, like a frightened, manic medley. Many simply abandoned their cars, and lugging as many useless goods as they could, ran for the hills.
(-Like lambs to the slaughter-)
Whistler dutifully straightened the collar of his black leather jacket, adjusted the angle of his jauntily-tilted hat. There was work to be done, a balance to be restored. His faith in The Powers That Be had sometimes wavered, been often doubt, but they always managed to get it right in the end.
Until Buffy fell in love with a vampire. That's when the PTB's tediously- managed equilibrium began to crumble, and things started to go wrong. Angel was sent to Hell; a big bad on the part of the People Upstairs, remedied only by the sudden return of ceid-vampire Warrior. Faith started playing for the evil side of the kickball game, though last Whistler heard she'd atoned for past crimes. People died who weren't meant to, like the half- demon martyr Doyle and a certain blond Slayer. Children were sprung from the loins of chaos and destruction, their destinies unforeseen and precarious: Dawn the human embodiment of the Key, and Connor the vampiric spawn raised in a Hell dimension.
(-And we don't even know what he's made of yet-)
The Powers That Be were loosing control, and the pendulum (for so long still and neutral) was swinging dangerously close towards The Evil ... Whistler chuckled humourlessly. He surveyed the ruins of Los Angeles, gazing upon the charred remains of the once-thriving city, now half- deserted and permeated with anarchy.
The energy in the air shifted again, like it had upon Doyle's arrival. Within the City of Angels, amid the chaos and burning, more demons, brethren of the Beast, sprang from the ground, rising from the bowels of the Earth to slaughter the remaining populace.
(-How much closer can you get?-)
Whistler was quite certain that somewhere, some god must be laughing.
**********************
We hope that you choke, that you choke.
A/N: Okay, okay I know this one was super, super short and didn't have any Doyle (or any dialogue, for that matter) in it, but it's all I had time to write, what with exams coming up, and I didn't want to wait like, three weeks between updates. The next chapter will be done pretty soon; I've already got a page or so written! Cheers!