I think my writing skills are slowly deteriorating. Okay, this is a pathetic excuse for a chapter but I wrote it whilst I had horrible writer's block. I need some inspiration really. If I have a sudden wave of ideas I will go back and rewrite it and I will let you know if I do. I'm really sorry I haven't updated in so long but a culmination of various personal issues has meant that writing wasn't exactly my top priority. However, I am back and hope to stay back. I ask you all to bear with me. This is the nitty gritty of the whole lot and it's all Doyle anyway, so sorry for neglecting him!
empath28: I know, she is being a tad thick isn't she? Ah well, hopefully I'll pull my plot together and write you a decent chapter. Thanks for reviewing, I dunno where I would be without you guys. Well, yeah I do I'd be even more depressed than I am now… (sniff)
Insane Troll Logic: Yay my favourite reviewer… well, not favourite 'cos that would be discriminating but definitely one of my favourite reviewers. Not that I have favourites of course… I'll shut up now. Glad you liked last chapter, sorry about this one. I really really will get onto the interesting bits but this one is essential. I'm just feeling very lousy. And SHH! Stop giving the plot away! Well… partly… maybe… my head hurts.
claire: Glad you like it! I'm on a bad trail at the moment but please stick with it! It shall recover!
jewel21: Thought I'd lost ya! I enjoyed writing the last chappie, not sure 'bout this one. I need your advice! Help me please! Yes, a lot of people are ranting about Cordy… well love can make you do stupid things can't it? As can jealousy, hatred and pretty much every other emotion. Or she could just be stupid… meh, whatever.
m3: Sorry about the late update, glad you like it and here's a whole lot of Doyle for ya. Enjoy as much as possible, circumstances allowing.
If I missed anyone (which is entirely possible in my current state) then I apologise profusely. I love all my reviewers and would never purposefully neglect you. I just need someone to hit me over the head on occasions. Oh and just to let you know, all this crap takes place while Oz, Angel and Cordy are running around various underground passageways. So you'll have to wind back time --; Try not to scream too loud okay? (sniffle) I need a hug… (sniffle)
"Our cult," Zariel began, the magic still crackling ominously in his palm, "was formed many millenia ago, before the true demons were banished from the earth. The power that these witches and warlocks held is something you could never begin to comprehend. This was old magic, pure magic, not the filtered magic we extract from the earth and the surrounding matter, but magic in its own, young essence. Fierce battles were fought between these early humans and the true demons. In those days a single blast could carve a ravine in the face of the earth."
The old man spoke with a manic gleam in his cold blank eyes, a gleam that made the hairs of both Doyle's human and demon side prickle.
"Eventually the two sides had been whittled down until a bare fragment of the original cult was left alive and there was only one demon left. However, this demon was the most powerful of all of them. The leaders of the cult, the wise ones, knew that they would never be able to defeat the demon without further help. So," Zariel turned to Doyle, a strange expression on his face, "they sent out a call to powers beyond the earthly realms, to the High Ones, the ones that you, I believe, more commonly refer to as, the Powers."
This can't be going anywhere good. He's got that 'it's all your fault and even if it's not it is now' look on his face. Cordy does it better than him though.
"And they sent an embassy to answer the call."
A slow suspicion that had begun to eat away at Doyle's mind took a really big bite. And it was painful. He remained silent however, curious despite himself. Zariel seemed lost in his own little world which was fine as far as Doyle was concerned.
Just as long as they don't knock me out again. That's really starting to getting annoying.
"This man came to us, claiming that he had been sent by the powers to deliver the key to our victory. And do you know something?" Doyle had a feeling that this was a particular something he didn't really want to know. "He was a seer."
Oh whoopee. Can't tell where this is going.
"He had something in his possession, the warlocks' combined power paled in comparison."
Zariel raised his hand and a misty image swam into being in the darkened stone room. A long gleaming shaft of wood with a shining silver and crimson blade at one end and a vicious pointed stake fixed into the other. It hung in suspended animation, roataing slowly as Doyle took in the shape in all its horrific glory. The blade was solid, double edged and razor sharp, made solely for the purpose it had been set. To kill.
Even though it was merely a projection, Doyle's demon side recoiled at the very sight of this weapon, every demonic fibre of his being warning him away. Doyle stared at the object with a mixture of awe and fear. Zariel was watching the conjured light play across the blade with a sort of dazed intensity.
"So much raw magic, you could practically taste it," he whispered, a fanatical glint in his eyes, "Even these pitiful mortals we live among today would be able to at least catch an inkling of this masterpiece's capabilities. Understandably intoxicated by this awesome power assuring them of victory, the elders rushed into battle against the demon, unaware of the terrible danger."
He looked back up at Doyle and there was a passion of burning hatred in his eyes mingled with a hollowness that no light could ever fill.
"What the seer failed to mention was that the weapon could only be wielded by the Chosen one," Zariel spat venomously, his eyes narrowed into gleaming slits of malice, "the result being that when the wise ones attempted to summon the weapon's power to their aid the power reacted violently, killing its holder and then sealed itself. They were left, one more down, at the mercy of the only true demon left on their plane of existence."
The bitterness in the old man's voice was palpable, his voice cracking slightly, whether from sorrow or anger the seer couldn't tell. This man's mind had broken a long time ago but no one had picked up the pieces.
"They managed to subdue the demon with their own powers but were killed in doing so. Their leader, mortally wounded, took that cursed thing," he threw out a hand violently, a bolt of energy shattering the image of the weapon into glittering fragments, "and hacked the demon's head from its shoulders. Then he died. And those bastards," he snarled, directing his blank eyes to the dark ceiling as though trying to pierce his enemies with his furious gaze, "did absolutely nothing to help them!"
The surrounding air hissed like a living thing, the black magic emanating from the ancient warlock causing Doyle's eyes to water. Two jet black orbs met his gaze, set in the pale, wrinkled old skin.
"I am the sole survivor of our entire dynasty. I alone survived all the ages, spending almost my entire life using my powers to shift between dimensions, waiting in a slower time, watching as time rushed by in this dimension, waiting for the perfect moment. And it came." He grinned, "The world became an ignorant and detached place, where
The suspicion that had previously been gnawing was now picking its teeth.
"You want to destroy the powers."
The old man smirked.
"Give the man a medal. It seems there's hope for you yet. Though," his smirk widened, rotten teeth bared eerily, "not for long."
Doyle narrowed his eyes, "Look, I hate to rain on your parade but in case you hadn't noticed, they are the Powers, as in higher beings. They could squish you like a bug. You can't destroy them, that sort of power doesn't exist anymore, you said so yourself."
Zariel shook his head, eyes glimmering in malicious amusement.
"Ah, the irony. It's you, my friend. You and your line are what have made this whole thing possible."
The blank look on Doyle's face spoke for him. Zariel chuckled again.
"Perhaps you remember Brankata?"
Doyle raised an eyebrow. Ehhh?
"Perhaps not. Allow me to refresh your memory."
A gleaming black knife speckled into being, another shimmering mirage of magic particles. The sight was horribly familiar and Doyle's mind was thrown back to the time when this particular little artifact had been shoved into his heart. He shivered. Zariel was watching the changing expressions on his face with an amused air.
"Unpleasant memories my friend?"
Doyle clenched his fists, "You're not my friend," he said flatly, defiantly meeting the ancient warlock's stare, "But I really, really hope you meet one of them sometime."
The one with pointy fangs and a disturbing fixation with black leather.
Zariel, far from looking threatened, had a sinister smirk around his eyes as though he knew something the seer didn't. Doyle felt an uneasy feeling sinking to the bottom of his stomach. If his friends had come… then where were they? He tried to reassure himself. It was Angel for crying out loud. Still…
"Brankata," Zariel continued, as though Doyle had not spoken, "Is the blade that belonged to our leader. The powers cast a spell over it so that our leader would be unable to harm their seer with it."
Doyle glared, "So stabbing me with that thing was just your idea of an identity check? What is it with you people and your creepy occultish ID systems? Why not just invent some sort of cosmic passport, one which doesn't involve knives, blood or any other particularly painful activity? The humans managed it, why can't you?"
Zariel smirked at the irate seer, serenely ignoring his tirade.
"And now, we have less than an hour before the ritual begins. You see, today is a very special day."
"Let me guess," said Doyle sardonically, "this just so happens to be the exact day that your dear leader died all those years ago?"
Zariel raised an eyebrow.
"Did you See that with your inner eye?"
"No, I just watch a lot of television."
"Of course."
Zariel smiled ominously at the seer.
"Well, as pleasant as it has been talking to you, I think it's time to get down to business."
The last thing Doyle saw was a wave of black energy. Then pretty much everything was black. Funny thing about black. Can't see a damned thing…
(wince) I know, I know, please don't kill me! Like I said this is probably going to be rewritten as it is only a measly one thousand something hundred words long at the moment. BUT THE INFORMATION IS IMPORTANT. Urgh, I hate my life at the moment. Please review and give me pointers on how to improve this chappie to make it more interesting and please point out any glaringly obvious plot holes! I should have had a beta really but it's a bit late for that now. (Sigh) Anywho, read, review, please try not to kill me. Pretty please? Kaeden should make an appearance soon… I think… I need to rewrite my plot structure… (wanders off in a random direction)