Author's Note: Okay this may be fairly boring and meaning less and very
confusing, but I'm in a very tired state and I want to get this out before
I get the 1st chapter laid out. It can stand alone too. I hate my new
schedule because it gives me only 1 day to sleep properly and write so
excuse please.
Disclaimer: Nope. Not mine, nor will it ever is. All those rich and fat people at WB own the show. The song is from Dido. From her album No Angel. It's called Don't think of Me.
Spoilers: Erm. not much. If you know the basic arc of Buffy and Angel, it'd better, but basically no spoilers.
Summary: Angel is someone different now; he has a life and even a bright future. But someone from the past comes. Its B/A. Don't flame. Please. Not AU. At least not yet until season 5 come out.
Feedback: It's better than chocolate. It's even better than comfort food. Go figure.
Past Regained
She twirls around in his arms and he's falling in love with her again. His beautiful brunette. Her laughter makes him feel alive. And her blue eyes shine only for him. She is slender and long, and hugging her makes him go to Heaven. The music slows once more, and he hugs her close and they both just step in time to the music. Throughout the time they've been together they've never danced before. She just assumed that he's was being a typical guy. But in reality, there is nothing typical about him. His hair is silky, but untidy, and as much as he tries to comb it, something always keeps it up. His skin is as pale as the moonlight, as much as he tries to tan it; it just turns back white again. His features are uncannily handsome; those eyes would keep haunting you forever. He seemed to have an air of mystery around him, like some dark brooding hero. But maybe all of this was just her imagination. She had known him all her life- She knew he had 2 loving parents, he had a beautiful sister who is now engaged and living far away, and he graduated from law school but never became a lawyer. Yet he always seemed too larger than life. Maybe it was just his looks, maybe it was his smile, and maybe it was just him. Or maybe she was just too in love with him to think straight. Yeah, she's in love with him. Full blown, head over heels, already-planning-our-marriage-and-children in love. And she was the luckiest woman alive to be here. With this thought she buried her head into his shoulder- perhaps it was not exactly fitting, as both of them were rather tall people, but she had adapted to it. He smiled and kissed her crown, a most familiar gesture that he had done as long as he could remember. The music continued.
So you're with her, and not with me, I hope she's sweet and so pretty I hear she cooks delightfully, A little angel beside you.
The music wasn't something he'd have preferred, but he admitted it was better than most during their time. He basked in the soft tones of the singer, and inhaled the scent of the love of his life. Like night-blooming jasmines. And roses.
So you're with her, and not with me, Oh how lucky one man can be, I hear your house is smart and clean, Oh how lovely with your homecoming queen Oh how lovely it must be.
She completed his life. She is beautiful and she is the one he will be destined to be in love with forever. She filled the emptiness he'd felt for all of his life. And she smelled of night blooming jasmine. And roses.
When you see her sweet smile baby, Don't think of me. When she lays in your warm arms, Don't think of me.
He thought of vanilla and sunshine and ice-cream. But those weren't associated with the girl in his arms. She liked chocolate ice-cream and had the complexion of the moonlight. When she smiles, it never makes you amaze at how such a petite person can suddenly light up a whole room. Because the girl in his arms was never a small person, she was almost as tall as he was. Her head does not fit on that hollow place on his chest. She never told him that she wanted to be a professional ice-skater. He didn't fall in love with her the first time he set his eyes on her. He didn't remember.
So you're with her, and not with me, I know she spreads sweet honey. In fact your best friend, I heard he spent last night with her Now how do you feel?
His head was spinning. Gold, he remembered. Hazel. Cool- no warm lips. Cold night. Rain. He is confused. He feels confused. When you see her sweet smile baby, Don't think of me.
When she lays in your warm arms, Don't think of me
and it's too late and it's too bad, Don't think of me
Oh it's too late and it's too bad, Don't think of me
The club, he thought. It is the club they were in, he and his lovely girlfriend. The club was new and she had dragged him here. It was too dark, too gloomy, too confusing for his taste. It was too familiar. He raised his eyes to look at the singer on stage. Short blonde hair, lean and delicate. Brown eyes, he thought. Not hazel. Not large and innocent. For a moment he almost felt recognition. "Are you okay?" his love asks. "I'm great. It's just your brown hair, it makes me weak." He smiles at her. It is not brown hair that makes him weak, it's blonde. No- not blonde, she used to be a brunette. She made him weak.
Does it bother you now all the mess I made
Does it bother you now the clothes you told me not to wear
Does it bother you now all the angry games we played
Does it bother you now when I'm not there
His skin prickles and something in him wants to turn around. A pun- a comment pops up in his mind. "Is it like cramp?" her voice sounds like home. A home unlike the large mansion he is living in now. (Or is he?) Nor the one he imagined to plan with his brunette love. (Is she?) The salty taste of blood fills his senses and he remembers savoring it. The memory is fleeting. He forgets it. But the aftertaste lingers. He shifts uncomfortably. He should never have agreed to dance. She asks if he wants to leave, they walk out of the door, arms around each other. Before the door shuts, he turns around and thinks he almost catches a glimpse of hazel and blonde.
When you see her sweet smile baby, don't think of me
When she lays in your warm arms, don't think of me
And It's too late and it's too bad, don't think of me
Oh it's too late, oh it's too bad, don't think of me.
Disclaimer: Nope. Not mine, nor will it ever is. All those rich and fat people at WB own the show. The song is from Dido. From her album No Angel. It's called Don't think of Me.
Spoilers: Erm. not much. If you know the basic arc of Buffy and Angel, it'd better, but basically no spoilers.
Summary: Angel is someone different now; he has a life and even a bright future. But someone from the past comes. Its B/A. Don't flame. Please. Not AU. At least not yet until season 5 come out.
Feedback: It's better than chocolate. It's even better than comfort food. Go figure.
Past Regained
She twirls around in his arms and he's falling in love with her again. His beautiful brunette. Her laughter makes him feel alive. And her blue eyes shine only for him. She is slender and long, and hugging her makes him go to Heaven. The music slows once more, and he hugs her close and they both just step in time to the music. Throughout the time they've been together they've never danced before. She just assumed that he's was being a typical guy. But in reality, there is nothing typical about him. His hair is silky, but untidy, and as much as he tries to comb it, something always keeps it up. His skin is as pale as the moonlight, as much as he tries to tan it; it just turns back white again. His features are uncannily handsome; those eyes would keep haunting you forever. He seemed to have an air of mystery around him, like some dark brooding hero. But maybe all of this was just her imagination. She had known him all her life- She knew he had 2 loving parents, he had a beautiful sister who is now engaged and living far away, and he graduated from law school but never became a lawyer. Yet he always seemed too larger than life. Maybe it was just his looks, maybe it was his smile, and maybe it was just him. Or maybe she was just too in love with him to think straight. Yeah, she's in love with him. Full blown, head over heels, already-planning-our-marriage-and-children in love. And she was the luckiest woman alive to be here. With this thought she buried her head into his shoulder- perhaps it was not exactly fitting, as both of them were rather tall people, but she had adapted to it. He smiled and kissed her crown, a most familiar gesture that he had done as long as he could remember. The music continued.
So you're with her, and not with me, I hope she's sweet and so pretty I hear she cooks delightfully, A little angel beside you.
The music wasn't something he'd have preferred, but he admitted it was better than most during their time. He basked in the soft tones of the singer, and inhaled the scent of the love of his life. Like night-blooming jasmines. And roses.
So you're with her, and not with me, Oh how lucky one man can be, I hear your house is smart and clean, Oh how lovely with your homecoming queen Oh how lovely it must be.
She completed his life. She is beautiful and she is the one he will be destined to be in love with forever. She filled the emptiness he'd felt for all of his life. And she smelled of night blooming jasmine. And roses.
When you see her sweet smile baby, Don't think of me. When she lays in your warm arms, Don't think of me.
He thought of vanilla and sunshine and ice-cream. But those weren't associated with the girl in his arms. She liked chocolate ice-cream and had the complexion of the moonlight. When she smiles, it never makes you amaze at how such a petite person can suddenly light up a whole room. Because the girl in his arms was never a small person, she was almost as tall as he was. Her head does not fit on that hollow place on his chest. She never told him that she wanted to be a professional ice-skater. He didn't fall in love with her the first time he set his eyes on her. He didn't remember.
So you're with her, and not with me, I know she spreads sweet honey. In fact your best friend, I heard he spent last night with her Now how do you feel?
His head was spinning. Gold, he remembered. Hazel. Cool- no warm lips. Cold night. Rain. He is confused. He feels confused. When you see her sweet smile baby, Don't think of me.
When she lays in your warm arms, Don't think of me
and it's too late and it's too bad, Don't think of me
Oh it's too late and it's too bad, Don't think of me
The club, he thought. It is the club they were in, he and his lovely girlfriend. The club was new and she had dragged him here. It was too dark, too gloomy, too confusing for his taste. It was too familiar. He raised his eyes to look at the singer on stage. Short blonde hair, lean and delicate. Brown eyes, he thought. Not hazel. Not large and innocent. For a moment he almost felt recognition. "Are you okay?" his love asks. "I'm great. It's just your brown hair, it makes me weak." He smiles at her. It is not brown hair that makes him weak, it's blonde. No- not blonde, she used to be a brunette. She made him weak.
Does it bother you now all the mess I made
Does it bother you now the clothes you told me not to wear
Does it bother you now all the angry games we played
Does it bother you now when I'm not there
His skin prickles and something in him wants to turn around. A pun- a comment pops up in his mind. "Is it like cramp?" her voice sounds like home. A home unlike the large mansion he is living in now. (Or is he?) Nor the one he imagined to plan with his brunette love. (Is she?) The salty taste of blood fills his senses and he remembers savoring it. The memory is fleeting. He forgets it. But the aftertaste lingers. He shifts uncomfortably. He should never have agreed to dance. She asks if he wants to leave, they walk out of the door, arms around each other. Before the door shuts, he turns around and thinks he almost catches a glimpse of hazel and blonde.
When you see her sweet smile baby, don't think of me
When she lays in your warm arms, don't think of me
And It's too late and it's too bad, don't think of me
Oh it's too late, oh it's too bad, don't think of me.
