Title: I've Got to See You Again
Author: Crazy_Girl_Mary
Email: crazy_girl_mary@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me, I'm just a bad girl with lots of spare time and little now and then ideas! Nor do I own the lyrics to the song I've Got to See You Again that would be Norah Jones and some wonderful song writer of hers. You can find the full lyrics after the fic.
Summary: Two little stand alones. I always fancied the idea of what kinda fics could come from this wonderful song and here are just two.
Pairings: Buffy/Angel
Category: Angst I suppose.
Spoilers: Season Finale of Buffy mentioned and my take on what may have happened afterwards.
Rating: PG-13! Hey check me out! A baby rating! It's my very first.
Author’s Comments: This is the first full out song fic I have posted on this site. It's just a little baby one, or two. To explain that whole thing. I couldn't decide which premise I liked first so I just wrote both. They're seperate stories but they could be viewed as two sides of the same story. I just wrote them as two stand alone song fics. Enjoy

1)


He sometimes wondered how his life had come to this. Actually it was more her life, which always directly affected his, so much so, that he frequently confused the two as one dying bond. Other times as he watched her dance he was sure that nothing they had ever shared; misshapen love, innocence, lust, blood, tears, sex, broken promises, painful stares, would ever die.

It seemed like far more years than it had been, even to him. Despite this she still carried that unexplainable youthfulness in her eyes. Perhaps it was the impartial, angry-at-the-world-for-this-bestowed-shit-existence gaze that she had mastered since coming to Los Angeles, or maybe it was just that she was still young. He really couldn’t remember her age. He couldn’t remember anything when she danced the way she did. Anything but lust and wonder at where she had learned to dance like that, (because she certainly hadn’t learned it from him,) left his mind forever in the presence of her dance.

He imagined how she looked to the outsiders. He doubted they ventured past the scar down her face, to see the strong lingering beauty. They were too caught up in her perfect, young, athletic body. A body that promised all the things these men would never have the pleasure of experiencing. She had changed, he knew, but he also knew she hadn’t changed so much as to disregard the fact that only a vampire belonged inside of her.

lines on your face
don’t bother me
down in my chair
when you dance over me
I can’t help myself
I’ve got to see you again

He’d found it under his front door. The time and place so hastily scrawled on a coffee stained diner napkin, written in eyeliner. He had smelled her all over it and, thankful that she had finally revealed signs of existence after a long disappearance, he had shown. Still filled with lust and disgust at her skilled disrobing, and convinced she had invited him there to save her from herself, he had waited outside the back door of the club. He waited until the rising sun heated his dead skin, then he couldn’t wait anymore.

He knew exactly what had drawn him there, night after night, following the initial viewing. It was the promise of her fertile young body exposed to his longing eyes. Then there was his anger that this fertile body would also be exposed to any hard male with proper identification, legitimate or otherwise. But mostly, it was because he wanted to believe that her invitation had been a cry for help, and that one night as he waited outside the back door she would emerge in time to meet him. She would go with him, and cry all the tears she kept inside, and she would beg him to help her change into the person she longed to be, the better person.

He sunk deeper into his dark booth not sure whether he was invisible to her or not. At first a few of the other girls had offered him entertainment but after awhile they realized he was there to watch only her, his blonde goddess... Or was she a devil? He really didn’t know, but either way, she was still where his religion lay. He wasn’t above the irony. He worked in the dark streets, still helping the helpless that she had too eagerly abandoned, but a few hours before sunrise when the others thought he found sleep, he instead found his way here to be hypnotized by her motions.

He remembered how it had felt to need this. It had become an addiction, something else to cause a feud between his craving body and the pride that begged him to get over it. He had steamed in his dark room hours before the show he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist, dreaming of the way she might look, the lingerie she might be wearing, the harm that could possibly come her way. He knew she could still handle her own, but her safety was the weak way he justified it to himself, that and the lingering and equally weak hope that she might need his help.

late in the night
when I’m all alone
and I look at the clock
and I know you’re not home
I can’t help myself
I’ve got to see you again

He never questioned whether she was aware of his presence. She was. He could see it in her eyes when she chanced a glimpse towards the back corner where he always sat and watched. Whether she could see him clearly or not, she knew he was there. Every night he waited in vain outside to see where she went when she left, but every night she never emerged from the club before the rising sun. He supposed she would wait until she was ready for him to be around, for his world-weary wisdom to push its way into the tiny dirty apartment he imagined her living in.

When he closed his eyes to sleep he could see her there, in that crappy apartment, dancing for only him. He could feel the matted couch beneath him and behind him as he watched her dance, he could hear the unfamiliar music in his ears. He would sit motionless and just watch as she removed her clothes to some old jazz mix, a smile nowhere to be found for miles of endless purgatory. And he would wake from the dream panting and angry because he knew their relationship would never be the vanilla Meg Ryan romance it had long ago been, the romance he had longed to give her so many years before. He was also angry because deep down inside he knew that was what neither of them desired, they were both predators, and he knew this game could only go on so long.

I could almost go there
just to watch you be seen
I could almost go there
just to live in a dream
but no I won’t go for any of those things

Eventually they would have to feel each other. He could almost taste her skin, her lips, her sweat, her blood. He could feel her soft skin, her hair, her ass beneath his hands as they wondered over her body. Then the faint noises of an early morning investigations office would break his dream and he would be left unsettled. He would suffer through the day, telling himself that tonight would be the night that he wouldn’t need to see her, knowing deep inside it was bullshit and that his nightly strip club visits were indeed all he needed anymore. He knew it wouldn’t last. They would soon cease to fill the void. He wasn’t really sure where the void was, where she filled him, but he could feel it growing deeper and the fill from her nightly dance growing shallower. He needed more and he doubted she felt differently. Perhaps she felt it before he did and that had resulted in the scrawled eyeliner napkin.

Either way, he would need to touch her... soon... eventually. Only time would tell how long he could hold out. It would also only reveal her reaction because he hadn’t the faintest idea which of the many reactions he entertained would actually come to be.

to not touch your skin
is not why I sing
I can’t help myself
I’ve got to see you again

2)


She ducked deeper into the shadows as the vampire came closer, locked into a deadly conflict with a similar beast. She held her breath for him as the blows became even more deadly. He danced through the darkness with immense skill she had been on the receiving end of many glorious and unforgettable times before. She didn’t fear for his safety. She knew he would win and save the day, he always did.

No, she didn’t watch to be sure that he still continued to win, to be glorious; she watched to be sure that he still danced like he always had. She came because the dance gave her peace and comfort in a life and a body where there was none. His beautiful face had long since flashed into demonic but to her he was still perfect in every way.

lines on your face
don’t bother me
down in my chair
when you dance over me
I can’t help myself
I’ve got to see you again

It had been a two years since the end of her duties. She had always been the slayer, even in her death, and then suddenly there were slayers all over the world. She was no longer the Chosen One anymore, just part of a mass feminist movement to the media’s eyes, and as much as she had anticipated and dreamed of this freedom she had quickly grown to hate it. She was no longer special, no longer needed. They had all gone off to England to find a group of these chosen girls and raise them up properly, thinking that would ensure that Faith and Buffy would no longer be superior but she could feel it deep in her skin, an overwhelming feeling that they were already obsolete.

She remembered Dawn’s face as she told her she was just going to the bathroom and she would be on the plane in a second. The young girl had seen in those mirrored eyes that Buffy’s excuse was just that. She suspected that their trip to England had been a reason to pull her away from these nightly rituals… these addictions. But she knew they couldn’t help her, nothing could, no one but him, she couldn’t even help herself. And she had tried, God had she tried. She had sat in her bedroom all alone; staring at the television set trying to block out visions of his dance. She had driven aimlessly through the Los Angeles streets trying to be needed but it was like her mind unconsciously followed the map to him wherever he might be. She knew she couldn’t escape this calling to watch him.

late in the night
when I’m all alone
and I look at the clock
and I know you’re not home
I can’t help myself
I’ve got to see you again

That was what had brought her here, to this dark alleyway. It could be the same dark alleyway drawing her in every night, but maybe not. She wouldn’t know either way because him and his dance are the only memories of the previous places and when she gets back in her car, she knows like the past nights it will be harder and harder to find her way home. She also knows that until she is here again her time and mind will be filled with thoughts of him… short color mind movies of his graceful actions. Despite her form of love for him, and the knowledge that he shares that love, when she comes to him in secret she wishes nothing more then to be on the receiving end of those graceful motions.

She watches intently, capturing every sight and sound, as the action continues to move past her perch. He doesn’t use weapons as often as he used to. Perhaps his way of justifying to himself that he’s still as powerful as he always was. No need to justify this to her, she knows, and in her present emotional state, he’s probably even stronger an opponent than before.

As she moves through her apartment into the early morning after the returns from these visits she often tries to mimic his movements, tries to imagine what it would be like to fight him again, to be him. She wonders if he would put up a decent fight against her, or if his confusion would cloud his judgment. She wouldn’t want to kill or be killed, despite the fact that she would rather die at his righteous hands than anyone else’s. No, in her dreams they just fight, fight every night, on into forever, equally matched, equally bloody and beaten, equally hungry for more.

I could almost go there
just to watch you be seen
I could almost go there
just to live in a dream
but no I won’t go for any of those things

Hidden deep inside that is the wonder at what it would feel like to touch his skin again, not necessarily in a sexual way, but really in any way possible, any way to fill this hungry void calling out for contact with him. Her hands curl into tight anxious fists where she stands at the thought of hitting him, hitting him hard, or of running through his hair, scratching down his back. These thoughts are all wrong, like something evil is hidden deep inside her, begging her to work it’s will. She doesn’t know what the hell it is, but she fears it might win. One more night of this tension and torture and she might find herself finally stepping out of the darkness to challenge her former lover to a duel for death. He’s noble of course, so she would have to convey some foolish evil plans to get him to put up a proper fight. She would leave… save more for the following nights, but one day it would end, and she didn’t know who would win.

to not touch your skin
is not why I sing
I can’t help myself
I’ve got to see you again

First, though, it had to start and she still didn’t know when her clenched fists would finally drive her out of her hiding place but she knew it wouldn’t be tonight. She knew tomorrow night she would sit in her apartment, trying futilely to distract herself from the nights activities. She could feel it burning through her veins that tomorrow could be the night, the night she steps forward for the fight, the fight no one except him could deliver.

Sometimes, like just now, he would look her way, into the shadows for a moment, before making the final blow and ending the engaged fight. Then the cavalry would swoop in, lawyers and commandos surrounding him on all sides, and she would slip away before he knew she had been there for sure, before the cheap perfume she drenched herself in night after night would begin to wear off leaving traces of her behind.

What would be enough to push him over the edge? She considered multiple scenarios that would make him fight her with everything he had. If she threatened him she wasn’t really sure he would fight her but she figured it was the only way to find out, and if she threw in some psychotic rambling for good measure perhaps he would give her what she craved. Only time would tell for sure. The wheels in her head churned trying to scheme a plan to gain entrance to the fight she craved. Only time would tell for sure…

Done! Please let me know what you guys think! And remember the truth only hurts if you let it and I don't so let'r rip!

I’ve got to see you again
Norah Jones
Lyrics

Lines on your face
don’t bother me
Down in my chair
when you dance over me
I can’t help myself
I’ve got to see you again
Late in the night
When I’m all alone
And I look at the clock
And I know you’re not home
I can’t help myself
I’ve got to see you again
I could almost go there
Just to watch you be seen
I could almost go there
Just to live in a dream
But no I won’t go for any of those things
To not touch your skin
Is not why I sing
I can’t help myself
I’ve got to see you again
I could almost go there
Just to watch you be seen
I could almost go there
Just to live in a dream
But no I won’t go to share you with them
But oh even though I know where you’ve been
I can’t help myself
I’ve got to see you again
Oh I can’t help myself
I’ve got to see you again