Author: JR
Email addy: <JRR42@yahoo.com>
Rating: PG-13 for language
Archive summary: Missing scene from the Prom Night episode.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It’s funny, but whenever I think that life can’t possibly get any weirder than it already is, somehow the Hellmouth always manages to turn up something even more bizarre. Okay, granted that the normal strangeness in Sunnydale usually involves demons, evil creatures or plain old icky stuff; but seeing *Angel* walk into our senior prom is pretty high up on my top ten list of *the* strangest events I’ve seen over the past three years.
“Oh my God!” I squeak into Oz’s ear. I can feel him tense up, and it takes me a minute to remember that his hearing is extra wolfie, even when it’s not his time of the month. Sometimes it’s really neat, like when I want to know what Harmony is saying about me to her friends behind my back in the cafeteria. On the other hand -- the bad hand, that is -- sometimes Oz’s werewolf stuff is a real pain, even when he’s not fully wolfed out. And this is one of those times. “Oh, Oz,” I whisper. “I’m *so* sorry, I forgot...”
“It’s okay,” he reassures me, gently swaying us back and forth to the music. It’s really weird dancing with him -- and not cause I should have stuck with flats instead of these little one-inch heels, either. No, it’s not weird in a bad-way weird, just unusual- weird.
Most of the time, Oz is actually *playing* the music that everybody is dancing to. Not that I ever complain. We’ve been going out for almost nine months, okay seven if you don’t count that horrible time with the whole Xander-fluke thing, but...where was I? Oh yeah. Nine months and I still get that tingly feeling whenever I get to say ‘my boyfriend’s in the band’.
“So, ah, was there a reason for blowing out my eardrum, or did you suddenly decide to find religion?” Oz asks.
Huh? Oh, right. Once Oz says that, my eyes wander back to the person who got me started on my mental meanderings. And once I start looking at Angel, I can’t seem to stop. I can feel vibrations under my hands. I know that Oz is speaking to me, but I don’t really hear anything that he’s saying. I’m too busy staring at Buffy and Angel. All right, all right, the real truth is that I can’t stop looking at Angel.
Oh. My. God. He looks so gorgeous! Not that he doesn’t always look good, wait that’s a double negative. No, what I mean is that, no matter where we’ve been, or what we’ve been doing, or whomever we’re fighting that day; Angel *always* looks incredible. In fact, he’s probably the most beautiful man I’ve ever met in my life.
‘The one with the angelic face.’ Giles once read that to us out of one of those Watcher diaries, and I’ve never forgotten it. How could I? It’s like the perfect description of Angel. No, I take that back -- a perfect description would say something about his eyes, how intense they are, how soulful, how at some times they can skewer you like a stake through the heart, while other times they can make you feel completely and totally safe.
All of a sudden, my line of sight with Angel is broken. I don’t mean to, but I can’t stop myself from taking a teensy step away from the obstruction so I can reestablish it. What am I doing? Oh no, I hope Oz...drat! He felt me tense up. Now he is craning his neck to see what I was so focused on.
To other people, it would probably seem as if Oz has no reaction to seeing Angel’s sudden appearance. They’d be wrong, of course. But that’s one of the things that I love about him so much. I love how laid back he is about everything especially since we are constantly running around fighting big, scary, evil things around here. Seeing Oz kinda take everything in stride helps to keep me calm, too. Like seeing Angel just now, if Oz wasn’t dancing with me, I’d’ve probably run right over there and babbled on at how shocked -- but happy -- I am that Angel came tonight. Not that Oz isn’t as surprised as I am right now. Knowing him as well as I do, though, I can tell that he is almost as stunned as I am. I see him raise his eyebrows before giving me his opinion on this turn of events.
“Wow, so Angel decided to come after all, huh?”
“I can’t believe he’s really here!” I hear myself enthusing. “This is so cool!”
“Yeah, I’m sure Buffy must be really happy right about now,” Oz speculates, continuing to lead us in our ‘dance’.
I should stop looking them, but I can’t. They’re so beautiful together. It’s like they compliment each other. Dark and light, pale and tan, tall and petite, beautiful and handsome, brown eyes...
...that are looking straight at me. Oh no! I’ve been *staring*. My skin starts to get all icy-hot and tingly which means I’m gonna...no, No, NO! Oh God, I’m blushing. Could this *possibly* get more embarrassing? Of course it can, because the more uncomfortable I get, the more red I get; and right now, I probably look like a lobster *after* it comes out of the boiling water.
The strangest thing is that Angel doesn’t seem to notice, or he pretends not to, anyway. Instead, he gives me a small smile, which -- given the nature of my thoughts on him a minute ago -- exponentially increases the heat of my blush. Angel’s eyes are still focused directly on mine, but the mocking I’m expecting to see is totally absent. In fact, all I can see there is...softness.
His gaze is so intense; I can’t stop myself from looking away from it. Before I can think twice, I close my eyes and lean my head down on Oz’s shoulder. It doesn’t help, though, because the way Angel was looking at me is still burned into my mind. It feels...comfortable...though, like he was happy and wanted me to be a part of it. Well, duh. Of course he’s happy; he’s dancing with Buffy, of course he’s happy. And if Angel is happy, then Buffy must be ecstatic right about now.
But I really don’t want to think about what Buffy is feeling at the moment. God, some best friend I am. I mean, just yesterday afternoon, Buffy was over at my house, crying her heart out over the fact that Angel broke up with her. I tried to do the best friend thing -- get all mad at Angel for dumping her, make him out to be the bad guy in it all -- but my heart wasn’t really in it. The truth is that, somewhere deep inside, I can’t help but think that what he is doing is for the best.
I used to think that they had the ‘perfect’ storybook romance. Now that I consider it, though, I see it differently. She’s a slayer, he’s a vampire with a soul. Even though they’ve overcome every obstacle the Hellmouth has thrown at them, their love has only grown stronger with every adversity they defeat. At least until that one day when, kaboom, disaster struck.
Even now, I almost always have to remind myself that it wasn’t their fault. It really wasn’t anybody’s fault -- well, except maybe the gypsies that cursed Angel in the first place. But I know how that story ended, at least, until Angel came back.
Angel, not Angelus.
It was so weird back when we all found out he’d returned. Xander and Giles were so angry that he was back. I guess I have to admit that I was angry, too, but not for the same reason. Okay, I *was* pretty ticked off, but not by Angel’s reappearance. No, what *still* makes me angry is that Buffy *hid* him from all of us. Okay, since I did get to see Giles’ and Xander’s reaction firsthand, I can understand why she didn’t say anything to them, but it hurts that she kept it from me, of all people. Angel is my friend, too, darn it! I mean, I’m the one that performed the restoration spell, aren’t I? I even did it twice, and the second time from a hospital bed! Doesn’t that count for something?
Apparently not.
I guess that it doesn’t matter now. Slowly but surely, Angel’s actions -- saving my life from Mrs. Post, fighting alongside us every time we’ve ever needed him, even that whole faking thing with Faith -- have brought him back into the fold of the Slayerettes. At least that’s the way I see it. Or that’s how it must look from the outside.
The truth is different, though.
As much as we all try to pretend otherwise, things were never the same as they were before Buffy’s seventeenth birthday party. Xander’s distrust of Angel hasn’t changed, and Giles...well, Giles has more than enough reasons not to trust Angel anymore. To be honest, part of me doesn’t blame him, either, uh, Giles that is. And of course, I was so busy with the aftermath of the whole...fluke thing between me and Xander, I never really noticed that Angel was slowly drifting away from all of us, even Buffy.
Like I said, I used to think that Buffy and Angel were the perfect couple, but ever since he came back from Hell, their relationship just seems to keep unraveling. Looking back over the past six months, I can see a lot of events that just made the distance between them wider. The same kinds of things that used to drive them closer together now just push them further apart. It’s starting to seem like every little thing each of them does ends up hurting the other.
In a way, I almost felt relieved the other night when Buffy told me that Angel had decided to end it between them -- at least until she got to the part about him leaving Sunnydale. Oh, I understand just fine why he feels he has to get out of town, or maybe I should say that my *mind* understands. My heart, however, is a completely different story. I mean, we’ve already lost Angel once, well twice if you count both his reverting back to Angelus *and* then again when Buffy told us that she had ‘killed’ him. Now we are going to lose him all over again. It isn’t fair.
“Willow?”
Huh? What?
“Willow? You still there?”
Huh? Oh, Oz. It takes me a minute to process his words, but at least his interruption brings me back to the present. Oh, yuck. I’ve been daydreaming -- evening dreaming? -- for so long that it feels like I’m covered in cobwebs. All of my senses are coming back at the same time, and it’s kind of nauseating. It’s like when you shake out a limb that’s gone all pins and needles after losing circulation. I can feel Oz again, the bone and muscle of his shoulders under my hands, the warmth of his body rising up from under the cotton and polyester of his tuxedo. My nose is filled with the sweet smell of whatever aftershave he’s wearing.
Oz is looking at me funny, and I can’t figure out why until he takes a step back from me. When did the music change? Just a minute ago it was the Sundays, now it’s Savage Garden, which is great because it’s more...sexy. I’d better move back a bit, too, otherwise we won’t have enough space to maneuver for this faster beat.
Without meaning to, I steal a glance over to where Buffy and Angel were a minute ago. They are still in the same place and, like us, they’ve separated a bit to accommodate the demands of dancing to this music. Something seems odd, though. What is it? What’s wrong with this pict...
Angel. It’s Angel.
I’ve seen him dance once or twice to faster music, like the night we all went out after Buffy defeated the Master. I think that was the first time I noticed, I mean *really* noticed how graceful he is. Actually, that’s not even a very good description. I guess a better word would be ‘sensuous’. Maybe it’s a vampire thing, or maybe he’s just a really great dancer, but man, can he *move* when he wants to.
Only, right now, it doesn’t seem like he wants to. In fact, his movements are jerky and stiff, well for Angel anyway. I mean, Angel always has this...air about him, like he’s constantly... uncomfortable being around other people. It’s weird how he can look like a frightened horse ready to bolt *and* a predator scoping for his next meal at the exact same time.
So, what’s the problem? C’mon Willow, you’re smart. You should be able to figure this...he’s doing it again. How does he do that? It’s almost like Angel can feel when I’m staring at him. One minute he’s looking right at Buffy and the next minute his eyes are burning right into mine. Oh God, please don’t let me blush again. What can he be thinking when he stares at me like that?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She looks so pretty tonight, worlds apart from the dust-covered, ready to fight Slayer that I normally get to see. In fact, they all look nice, at least what I can see of them while they’re pressed up against one another for this slower song. But still, I’ve never seen *all* of them decked out in evening clothes like this. Hell, even Giles is in a tux. What was that old saying of Whistler’s? ‘They clean up real good.’ And it’s true.
Maybe it’s a good thing that I came here tonight. I wasn’t going to, because deep inside, I know that my being here is only going to make it tougher on both Buffy and me later on. So often I forget just how young she really is. It must be a Slayer thing. What was it Willow said a while back? Buffy was sixteen going on forty. When it comes to the Slayer aspect of her life, Buffy is old beyond her years. Now why can’t she show that kind of maturity in her personal life? Maybe if she did, it might never have come to this. But she hasn’t, so it’s best for both of us if I leave town.
More than a few times in the past couple of days, I’ve regretted making this decision. Just seeing the way Buffy’s face lit up when I walked into the room is only the most recent example. Knowing that somebody could care about me like that is the most incredible feeling in the world. If it was always like that between the two of us, I’d hold on to Buffy and never let go.
But that’s not always the case.
“This feels so right, Angel,” Buffy sighs wistfully against my neck. “Are you really going to be able walk away from this? From me? From us?”
I feel myself start at Buffy’s selfish words. So much for the ‘understanding’ she said she had of what tonight is really about. I do my best to hide my reaction to her possessive attitude, using the change in music to cover my discomfort. The faster beat of the song is a perfect excuse to take a step back -- both literally and figuratively.
Typical. Buffy’s is so lost in her head full of school-girl dreams, that she doesn’t seem to notice my displeasure with her for the moment. In fact, she’s moving back a little which surprises me, at least until I see what she’s planning on doing.
Oh perfect. I guess she needs the extra space to do the slinky dance she’s performing. I can tell by that little knowing grin on her face, Buffy thinks that I’m finding the way she’s moving sexy, but nothing is further from the truth. All she is doing is reminding me of the time she did practically the same thing to Xander at the Bronze the summer after she defeated the Master.
To this night, I wonder if Buffy ever truly realized the person she hurt the most with that immature little stunt of hers. It wasn’t Xander, even though that...lap dance...she did left him all but limping off the dance floor because of his typical seventeen- year-old reaction. Surprisingly enough, it wasn’t me, either. Oh don’t get me wrong, I *was* jealous as hell, but that wasn’t what made me so damned pissed off. No, what made me angry was the betrayed expression I saw on Willow’s face as she watched her best friend practically mate with the boy Willow had loved her whole life.
In all my years, I can honestly say I’ve never seen another person look so young, so hurt and forlorn. I can still remember it plain as day, so to speak -- how my heart just went out to that girl I barely knew.
As my gaze drifts back to Buffy, I’m reminded of why I made the decision to leave in the first place. Seeing her act like this, immature and vindictive, leaves me feeling cold and alone even in this crowded room. Even worse, it’s been happening more and more often since I returned from Hell. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I still love Buffy with all my heart, but lately, there are too many times when I just don’t *like* her very much.
Fortunately for me, Buffy isn’t paying too close attention to me. She’s staring at something happening behind me, so I crane my neck to see if it’s any kind of potential danger.
Much to my relief, I find that the other, as Willow calls them, ‘Slayerettes’ seem to have gathered together in the center of the dance floor. I feel something touch my elbow, and look down to find that Buffy has hooked her arm with mine to lead me over to where her friends are waiting.
As Buffy drags me towards the others, my eyes are focused solely upon Willow. Dear God above, she looks magnificent tonight. With her hair carefully pinned up, her daring-yet- classically-styled dress and wrap, her make-up artfully -- and tastefully -- done; she looks more like a model than a high school student. And sweet Jesus, where did all that cleavage come from? Not for the first time, I find myself envious of Oz. For once, she looks blissfully cheerful, and because she is my friend, that makes me happy for her.
Oz and Willow greet me warmly as we approach, obviously pleasantly surprised by my unexpected presence. Even Cordelia manages to curb her usually acidic tongue, offering me a genuine compliment on my appearance. Colour me surprised that Wesley and Xander have little to say, and Xander’s date (how *that* happened, I don’t even want to know), Anya, just looks at me oddly. There isn’t a lot of love lost between me and Anya, not that I care. I still haven’t forgiven her for her part in the vampire-Willow thing, not when she so callously put my Willow in danger.
Damn, I always seem to do that. Ever since that crazy night, I constantly seem to think of the Willow from this reality, not as ‘the real Willow’ or even ‘our Willow’, but always as *my* Willow. Maybe it’s because that was the first night I finally realized how much I cared about her, how I honestly thought of her as my true friend. Or maybe because that was the first time I allowed myself to admit that I am, in some ways, attracted to her -- not that I ever acted upon it, or even entertained the idea of pursuing something with her. All right, all right, so I thought about it, however briefly. Hell, I even went over to her house after we sent the Doppelganger back to her own reality, all set to...well, I don’t honestly know what I intended to do.
The memory of what did happen that night still is one of my most cherished. It felt so good, scooping her up into a hug so tight that she actually had trouble breathing. In truth, that embrace was as much for my benefit as for hers. I needed to know that she was alright, but that wasn’t the only thing that stemmed from it. As soon as I held her, I realized that Willow was the only real friend I had here in Sunnydale. In fact, aside from Whistler, she’s the only real friend I have, period. That night, though, I knew, without a doubt, that I could never do *anything* that might jeopardize the friendship between us. After that, things went back to normal...well as close to normal as anything in my unlife ever gets.
Mercifully, this sultry song comes to an end. Even before the final notes conclude, the deejay is overlaying the beginning of the next piece. Not that it matters to me or anyone else. We all keep on dancing, segueing seamlessly between the two distinctively different beats. Something else does happen though. Within seconds, all of the Slayerettes are laughing, with the exception of Xander, who is groaning miserably.
“Ha!” Oz says to Xander with a knowing raise of his eyebrows. “I told you. OMD. Pay up, man.”
“Oh, come on!” Xander cries in the direction of the deejay’s set-up. “Can we say ‘80’s cliche’?”
“Which is exactly why I told you they’d play it,” Oz reasons.
“Ah, about the money...,” Xander hedges. “Can I get it to you tomorrow? I’m a little short tonight.”
“It’s cool,” the werewolf generously allows. “I know where you live.”
Even though I’ve been following the conversation, I still have no idea what’s going on here. Once again, I find myself out of the loop and, no matter how many times I go through it, the exclusion still hits me like a punch in the gut. I guess it must show in my expression, because Willow turns directly to me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Even across the distance of the circle we’ve all formed, I can see the hurt in Angel’s eyes. He keeps looking around at all of us and, finally, I figure out what the problem is: he doesn’t understand the joke. Suddenly I’m angry at my friends -- and myself -- for our unintentional slight, so I set out to correct it. I’m not doing it out of pity, but understanding. After all, I’ve been in his position *way* too many times in my life. In fact, up until Buffy came to Sunnydale, I spent most of my life outside looking in; never popular or self-confident enough to enter anything but the bottom rung of the school social hierarchy.
Angel doesn’t deserve that. His actions have proven time and again that, not only is he our friend, but he has also more than earned his place in the Slayerettes.
I don’t stop dancing as I make my way through the center of the circle to approach Angel. Even when I finally reach him, my body is still moving to the music. I always seem to forget how much taller he is than I am until I stand next to him. Guess I’m used to being able to look Oz directly in the eye. But it’s Angel that I am standing -- well, dancing -- in front of at the moment. I end up having to stand on my toes in order to be heard over the loud music. We are both still moving to the beat of the song when he sees me and smiles. Oh God, he’s leaning forward in order to hear me better. Oh God, he even smells nicer than Oz! Maybe I can discretely ask him what fragrance he’s wearing so I can get a bottle of it for my favourite werewolf.
Yeah right. Geez, how dumb will that sound to Angel? Get a grip, Willow. Just tell him what you came over here to say.
“Oz and Xander made a bet the other day over whether or not they would play this song tonight,” I explain.
“Why?” Angel asks, leaning down even more to get closer to my ear. A shiver races through me as I catch a stronger whiff of his cologne. Oh God, he *does* smell good! So good, in fact, that it takes real effort to keep my mind focused on his question. Song, Willow! Angel’s waiting for your answer.
“It’s called ‘If You Leave’, and it was used in a movie about a prom. Ever since then, it’s practically become a requirement that all deejays have to play *this* song at every dance since then,” I tell him.
“I get it,” he answers before the corners of his mouth twitch in what looks like the beginnings of a smirk. “So Xander lost, huh?”
“Yes,” I chuckle, knowing that Angel is not above finding humor in Xander’s misfortunes.
“That’s such a damned shame,” he says seriously, and for a second, I think he actually means it. Doh! Don’t be stupid, Will. Oh God, there it is, that devilish twinkle in his eyes that makes my knees go into their liquid state.
“Yeah, right!” I toss back. He grins at me conspiratorially, and I feel myself giving him a grin of my own before I back away to return to my spot by Oz.
Isn’t it funny how we all have our own distinctive ways of dancing? Buffy and Angel are so...sensuous in the way they move. Xander is...Xander is...Xander is jerking around like he just stepped on a downed power line. As for everybody else, their movements are as different as their personalities.
As the song progresses, I can’t help but notice the lyrics. God, no wonder they play this at all the proms. ‘please don’t take my heart away...then we’ll go our separate ways’. How fitting. How sad. That’s going to be us soon. Even if, by some miracle, we survive Graduation, things will never be the same. Very soon, no matter how hard we all fight it, we will inevitably drift apart. Yikes! That was way too deep a thought for tonight. Tonight is about fun. Remember fun, Willow? That stuff that happened before you became aware of the Hellmouth?
Looking around at all my friends, I realize that I’m not the only one having such deep thoughts. It’s painfully obvious when each one of the people around me is hit by the poignancy of the lyrics. One by one, all of their expressions are changing as we all think about what waits for us in the near future.
And that’s what makes tonight so special.
The song is winding down, but before it ends, the volume of the sound is suddenly cut in half. Like me, everybody is looking around, trying to find out what just happened.
Of course, it’s only us Slayerettes that automatically tense up waiting for something big, ugly and scary to leap out of the shadows. Buffy and Angel have instantly fallen into defensive crouches. I guess after spending so much time fighting everything the Hellmouth has thrown at us, not one of us like surprises anymore.
I look over and find Oz staring at something. Wonder what it is? I don’t...oh...there it is. The deejay is scurrying over to one of the massive speakers in the far corner of the room. In the corner of my eye, I see Buffy visibly relax. My fear eases back a few notches seeing the Slayer-version of the ‘all-clear’ sign.
But it’s too late. The interruption has already spoiled all of our fun.
Since we’ve already stopped dancing, somebody decides to head over toward the edge of the dance floor. Of course the rest of us just follow along. Mumbling something to Xander, Anya excuses herself and heads off in the direction of the bathroom. Wesley excuses himself to get drinks for himself and Cordelia. Sure, Wesley, we’d love a drink. Jerk. Stuck up, British, lousy, watching, jerk-guy. Maybe he and Cordy do have something in common after all.
Once he is gone, Xander moves a little closer to Cordy and they strike up a conversation. I know it’s wrong -- I don’t even like him like that anymore -- but I always feel this painful...*pang* whenever I see the two of them together. As a matter of fact, now that I’ve had time to look back on it, I have to wonder how big of a part Xander’s dating Cordy played in my own ‘fluke’ with him. Okay, granted that I’ve...I’d been in love with Xander since...oh...about the fetal stage, but even as it happened, I always *knew* that what we were doing was wrong. I had Oz, and he had Cordy. Maybe, just maybe, if he’d been with anybody else on the planet, I wouldn’t have let things get as far as they did. Of course, it’s easy for me to say that now.
At any rate, it *still* hurts to see them together. Amazingly enough, they don’t seem to be arguing. Wonder how that happened?
Euww! Without the deejay there to change disks, the CD just keeps right on playing. Unfortunately, this next song is some screaming 80’s glam band by the sounds of it. People all over the room are booing and jeering, leaving the floor in droves. Duh. Not surprising since this music is totally undancable. I look over to see that Angel and Oz both wince as the grating noise pounds against their sensitive ears.
Off in the distance, I can see Giles as he hurries over to assist the deejay. I guess he probably wants the problem fixed before the students get rowdy. There’s a funny mental picture, Giles trying to fight the student body as a whole. Oops. I guess it’s not really that funny, considering how much real violence occurs on the Hellmouth. It’s enough that I shouldn’t go around inviting anymore unnecessarily.
Cordelia is leaving, probably to find out what’s keeping Wesley. Once she goes, Xander wanders over and stands between Oz and me and Buffy and Angel. Once he provides a physical link between us, we all close in a little closer in order to talk.
“*What* does she see in him?” Xander voices the question that has been running through all our minds from the first day Cordelia started fawning over the new Watcher.
“My guess is the accent,” Buffy offers helpfully.
“But Giles has the same...,” I begin. Everybody stops what they’re doing to stare at me incredulously.
“Eeuww! Willow!” Buffy chides me. “Mental picture...bad!”
“See?” Xander continues to rant. “She doesn’t act that way around the G-man. So what *is* it about that wimpy, little limey? He’s snotty, condescending, *and* has a stick up his ass the size of a telephone pole. I mean, c’mon! Did you catch him -- and I use the term loosely -- dancing? Jesus, I kept expecting him to start squeaking ‘Oil Can....Oooillll Caaaaan!’”
Although I’m laughing at Xander’s joke, what really makes me *happy* is seeing Angel actually crack a smile right along with the rest of us. Of course, this is one reference he actually gets. Way back before he...became...Angelus again, Buffy persuaded -- much to Xander’s dismay -- Angel to join us one night at my house to watch a rerun of the Wizard of Oz. I can still remember how engrossed he was by it all -- the colours, the music, even the story itself. Of course, the fact that Buffy was practically in his lap all night probably didn’t hurt matters, either.
Before I can get lost in my own memories, as usual on the Hellmouth, everything starts happening at once. First the music stops suddenly, bringing cheers from all my classmates. I open my mouth to add my own, when I just about jump out of my skin! One second, Oz and I are just standing next to each other, and then all of a sudden Giles is right behind us, hanging over us like Lurch from the Adaams Family. Gee, when did he learn to move around so quietly? At least I’m not the only one...disturbed, either, if the looks on all their faces are anything to go by.
“Okay, Giles,” Oz says with the remotest hint of an edge in his voice. “You need to, like, *never* do that again.”
“Never do what?” Cordy asks, obviously back from her unsuccessful search for Wesley.
“I...uh...Oz, I know that...that is to say, I hope that...,” Giles stutters. Ever since I’ve noticed Wesley doing the same thing, I’ve come to the conclusion that stumbling through sentences must either be an English thing or a Watcher thing. I’m just not sure which it is, yet.
Oh cool! I love this song! It’s about time the deejay changed the CD. People are clapping, probably as happy as I am that it’s something from this decade. Other than a curious glance around the room, Giles just keeps on stumbling through what he was saying. Geez, sometimes I think it would take me less time to hack into the Pentagon than for Giles to complete a single sentence.
“Well, since you are in a band, I was hoping that...,” Giles continues.
“You want me to take a look at that speaker?” Oz asks, politely speeding up what is turning out to be a really long process. When Giles nods, Oz turns to me. “Do you mind, baby? I’ll be right back.”
“Sure,” I answer, proud of him for helping out. He smiles at me then walks away with Giles. I know I’ve got that ‘oh *yeah*, that’s *my* boyfriend’ look on my face, but I’m not worried about what anyone thinks of me for wearing it.
“Aw, crap,” Xander mutters, drawing my attention away from Oz’s back. I can tell that he hasn’t been following the conversation going on right in front of him by the way he’s staring off into the crowd so intently. So what’s got him so upset? I follow the path of his gaze to see Anya making a bee-line directly for Xander. Not only that, but she’s got a determined look in her eyes. I want to laugh at how uncomfortable he looks, but the Willowy part of me knows that it would be so wrong.
I open my mouth to say something distracting, but then Xander does something that cuts me right to the bone. Without so much as glancing in my direction, he turns directly to Buffy.
“Buffy, please, I’m *begging* you. You gotta help me out here. Please. I’ll do anything. I’ll...I’ll...I’ll do your homework, take your exams, sharpen your stakes, whatever it takes,” he pleads.
As soon as he says those words, I feel like I’ve just been slapped in the face. I know I shouldn’t be hurt by it -- that I don’t have a right to be -- but that doesn’t make a bit of difference. I mean, Xander’s ignored me for years, even though I’ve always been his bestest bud. Even during that whole fluke thing, I was still playing second fiddle to Cordy. Okay, to be fair, I was doing the same thing to Xander when it all boiled down to it. Even now, I choose Oz. In fact, I begged, pleaded and groveled to get Oz back. So why in the hell am I so jealous that Xander asked Buffy to dance rather than asking me?
Then again, should I really be even remotely surprised? After all, who is always the *first* damned person Xander runs to whenever he steps in shi...uh...*dirt*. Oh God! I can’t believe I almost thought that! But that’s what Xander has driven me to.
It probably won’t matter, anyway. Angel is here, standing right next to Buffy. She’ll say no, and then Xander will turn to me with his biggest ‘I’m-so-pathetic-help-me-out-here-Will’ expression and, like always, I’ll cave in -- be grateful, even -- that he turned to me for help. And, like always, I’ll hide the hurt that I feel, knowing that he came to me second -- again.
“C’mon, Buff, what’d’ya say?” Xander wheedles. “Pleeease?”
Buffy looks over at Angel and, for a second there, I actually believe that as soon as she sees her ex glowering at Xander, she’s actually going to turn Xander down.
“You don’t mind, do you?” Buffy says to Angel in a voice that sounds like pure saccharine to my ears. “It’s only one dance and then I promise I’m yours for the rest of the night. And,” she adds with that ‘I’m-the-Slayer-so-cute-and-irresistible’ look of hers, “it’s for a good cause.”
What a...oooh, I can't believe she actually did that! I’m...I’m...well, I can’t think of a strong enough word for what I am, but what I’m feeling isn’t for me, it’s for Angel. How could she do that to him?
I look over at him, wondering what exactly he’s thinking about right now. For an instant, I swear I catch a flicker of yellow in Angel's eyes, but it's gone so fast, I can't be sure. Poor Angel. With her words, Buffy put Angel in a corner. Now unless he wants to look like...well...like a jealous boyfriend, he has no other choice but to say yes, which he does with a falsely casual shrug of his shoulders.
I can feel my own eyes narrow in anger as I watch Xander and Buffy move out to the far corner of the dance floor. As my mother would say, ‘what a piece of work’.
Buffy may be my best friend, but that doesn't necessarily make me blind to her faults. There have been times when I've been envious of her ability to manipulate people; either with her strength and intensity as the Slayer, or by using her confidence and her looks. While I may occasionally be jealous, there are also other circumstances when she uses her talent that just... well...annoy me. No, to be truthful, it really pisses me off.
And, if I'm this angry, I can't imagine what Angel must be feeling right now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You bitch! I can't believe you would actually do that! Congratulations, Buff, you’ve just hit a new low.
I’m furious right now, but not for myself. Even Buffy couldn’t be so blind as to have missed the hurt look on Willow's face! How can she possibly be so insensitive to her best friend? It's like that night in the Bronze all over again.
Back before Willow started dating Oz, I was always half-tempted to beat some sense into Xander about what his friend was so obviously feeling for him. Well, okay, honestly, I just wanted to knock Xander around, but at least doing it for Willow would have made me feel a little more justified about it. I never understood *what* she saw in him, but then again it really didn’t make much difference. The important thing -- to me, anyway -- was that it was something Willow desired, and I wanted to give my friend what she wanted.
However, I knew deep down that if I said or did anything to point out her feelings to Xander, Willow would only resent me for it. And that’s something I can respect. Willow wanted Xander, yes; but she wanted him to notice her on his own -- to choose her based on her own merits, not anybody else’s influence. Besides, Xander is nowhere near worthy of Willow. A few months ago I was so relieved when Buffy told me that Willow had chosen Oz over Xander. However, even though I do like Oz, there are still times when I think that *he* isn’t good enough for her, either.
Now, once again, Xander and Buffy have both managed to stick their respective heads up their respective asses. Maybe *they* should start dating. They are both so self-absorbed, they’d probably never notice when one of them wasn’t paying attention to the other, if that makes any sense.
Cordelia mutters something about finding Wesley and then walks away again. Like Willow, she also looked hurt when Xander asked Buffy to dance. Buffy told me the circumstances surrounding their break-up and, as much as I like and admire Willow, I have to agree that what she and Xander did was just plain wrong. In my opinion, Cordelia has every right to be angry at both of them. But it’s obvious, to me anyway, that despite her recent fascination with this new Watcher guy, she still has feelings for Xander.
Personally, I just don’t get what either Willow or Cordelia see in him. He’s insensitive, callous, immature -- and those are only the nicer adjectives I use to describe him. But who am I to judge? I’m a vampire who dated a Slayer. How’s that for bizarre?
I’m alone with Willow now, and by the look on her face, she’s still a little shell-shocked by what just happened. At any other time, she’d be talking a mile a minute about now. Right now, however, she’s as quiet as a mouse.
Quite the pair, aren’t we?
As if sensing my attention on her, Willow looks up at me. There is a fierceness in her green eyes, one that makes my soul unsettled and at the same time, excites the demon within me.
“Willow? Is something...,” I stop. Stupid, Angel. Of course something’s wrong. Let’s try that again. “Are you okay?”
She laughs a little, her chuckle filled with a tone that sounds vaguely ironic. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
I have to smile. That’s one of the things I lov...like so much about her, the way she puts aside her own feelings for everybody else -- even a vampire who shouldn’t be worthy of her attention.
“I’m okay,” I reassure her with a smile.
“Good.”
A long minute passes with excruciating slowness. With nothing else to say to each other, we both pretend to watch the dancing out on their floor. We are both consciously avoiding one certain corner, when the silence between us becomes, believe it or not, uncomfortable for *me*. I turn to her, uncertain as to what I should say.
“I...ah...you...do you...want to get something to drink?” Finally! Jesus Angel, took you long enough to get that out.
“Sure,” Willow asks with a little too much cheerfulness. Ah, the old ‘pretend-all-is-right-with-the-world-game’. Yes, I know it well.
I do my best to ignore her attempt at acting, saying nothing about it as I follow her to the punch fountain. Giles and Oz are only a few feet away, but the music coming from the other, working speakers is loud enough to drown out both of their voices. Oz looks up as we approach, giving Willow a small smile as she reaches for an empty glass.
“Do you...,” Willow asks, gesturing to the pile of empty glasses.
“No, thank you,” I answer, touched by her concern. But she suddenly looks sort of perplexed.
“I...you know, we’ve been friends now for what? Three years? And I still never know whether or not I should ask you about stuff like this. I mean, does it make you... uncomfortable? Or would I be being rude if I didn’t offer?”
I can’t help myself from chuckling out loud. That she just proclaimed me as her friend has filled me with utter happiness. Not to mention the fact that her questions and her manner of asking them just struck me as so...cute. By the way Willow is looking at me -- like I just said that the sky was green -- I know that she thinks I’ve lost my mind.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize. “Actually, thank you for bothering to ask at all. Besides, it’s not like there are many books on etiquette out there for entertaining vampires. To answer your question, yes, I can eat and drink regular food, but I usually only do it when I can’t avoid it, so you don’t need to bother yourself by asking. But I do appreciate the sentiment.”
“Oh. Okay,” she replies, looking relieved that she didn’t upset me. I catch her glancing out to the far corner of the dance floor before quickly returning to me.
For some reason, it bothers me that she feels even remotely uncomfortable at all around me.
“Willow,” I say, keeping my voice gentle and determined at the same time. “I don’t want you to ever be afraid to ask me anything -- anything at all. I can pretty much promise you that you won’t offend me, no matter what it is.”
“I...thanks,” she replies.
The equal parts of amazement and gratitude I hear in her voice leave me more than a little taken aback. Doesn’t she realize that I consider her my friend, too? That there isn’t anything that I wouldn’t do for her?
Of course not, idiot! When was the last time that you said anything to tell her? Or did anything to show her? And saving her life doesn’t count -- not when it comes to this kind of thing. For Christ’s sake, she gave me back my soul! And have I ever even acknowledged it? No. And why not? Because I don’t like bringing up any mention of any of the time that I *didn’t* have it. So, just like always, I’d rather be an insensitive, thoughtless, coward rather than face up to my own personal fears.
She’s looking at Buffy and Xander again, and trying hard to pretend otherwise.
That’s when it hits me, maybe it’s not much -- in fact it’s nothing at all in comparison to what I do owe her -- but it’s a start as to what I can do to repay her. But by God, I’m going to do this right, not some underhanded stunt like Xander just pulled.
I excuse myself from Willow and cross the short distance between the refreshment table and the still-broken speaker. Two-and-half centuries old, and I still get nervous when it comes to this kind of thing. Steeling my courage, I unnecessarily clear my throat to get his attention.
“Hey Angel,” Oz calls, barely looking up from the wiring he is working on at the moment.
“Hey Oz.” Just ask him, idiot.
“What’s up?”
“I...uh...would it be all right if I asked Willow to dance?” See? It wasn’t that hard.
“Sure,” Oz shrugs. “If she’s okay with it, then it’s cool with me.”
He looks a little curious as to why I bothered asking him. What can I say? I come from a time when manners meant more than saying ‘watch where you’re going, asshole’ after bumping into somebody.
My timing is good, as the song that is currently playing is coming to an end. Willow watches me as I return, sending me a small smile. It’s all the encouragement I need.
“Willow, would you like to dance?”
Grateful, surprised, happy -- all those emotions and more make her eyes sparkle like polished emeralds. Like those rare stones, her reaction is absolutely priceless. However, knowing that I helped to put that sparkle there is beyond measure to me.
“I’d love to,” she smiles genuinely.
“Shall we?” I ask, offering my hand to her.
As soon as her fingers weave themselves into mine, I escort her out into the sea of people on the dance floor. I keep my arm straight, our joined hands like the point of an arrow showing our direction, just like I was taught to do. I know that it’s hopelessly out of date and fashion, but I want to do this properly, and this is the only way I know how.
The new song begins just as she settles into my arms. Luckily, it’s slower than the last, what they call a ‘ballad’ these days. It’s a pretty one, too, if the introduction is anything to go by.
Willow is uncharacteristically silent as I start us both swaying to the music. I wonder if she’s uncomfortable, but I can feel the muscles of her back under my hands, and they don’t seem to be overly tense. It can’t be Buffy and Xander either, since I’m the one facing them at the moment. I can’t help but notice that they are still dancing, despite Buffy’s promise of only one song. Colour me surprised.
Dismissing the two of them from my mind, I concentrate on the beautiful girl in my arms.
//It’s amazing how you can speak right to my heart.//
Although Willow and Buffy are about the same in height and build, they are incredibly different in so many ways. Maybe it has something to with my being a vampire and her being the Slayer, but to me, it seems that Buffy always has this...strength...about her. Just her presence alone can be commanding -- demanding and, for the most part, receiving respect from those around her. A person only need look at her to know that Buffy’s bad side is not a good place to be.
Willow also has a considerable amount of inner-strength, but unlike Buffy, she keeps it hidden away until she needs it. I’ve been on the receiving end of Willow’s temper before, and believe me when I say that I just about walked away with scorch marks. Oh, you bet that underneath her shy exterior rests a soul with endless amounts of determination. It’s this fire within that’s kept her sane and alive after all these years of living on a Hellmouth.
But it’s also that same inner-strength that magnifies her beauty. Don’t get me wrong, I still think Buffy is one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen, but in so many ways, she lacks the glow Willow has, the one that comes from deep inside, the outer reflection of the purity of her soul.
Despite all the horrors she has seen, somehow Willow has also managed to hang on to her innocence. That she still tries to find the good in every person she meets is beyond my comprehension. Maybe I’m too jaded, maybe I’ve seen too much in my long years of unlife to remember what that ever felt like. At least, however, I’m experienced enough to recognize Willow’s idealism for what it is. I only pray that she never loses it, because to me, that kind of open-heartedness is something I can only aspire to.
//Without saying word you can light up the dark.//
Of all of Buffy’s friends, Willow is the one that is pure sunshine, the one who is always a touchstone -- a beacon for all of us when we lose our way. She is, more so than Buffy could ever hope to be, the glue that holds all of the ties of our various friendships together. That ability, more than any magic she will ever learn, is her special gift in life.
//Try as I may, I can never explain,//
She’s so special, and the fact that she doesn’t even realize it makes her even more so. She’s worlds apart from Buffy, who is constantly being told that she is the Chosen One. And yet Willow has so little confidence in herself. I guess nobody ever bothers to tell her what an important role she plays in all our lives. I’m such a fool. Willow’s done more for me than anybody has in the past two-and-a-half centuries -- Whistler included -- and I still can’t manage to find the words to tell her so.
What exactly am I supposed to say? Thank you for risking your own life to save my very soul? Thank you for being the one friend that I can always count on, no matter what the circumstances? Thank you for forgiving me for what I did when I lost my soul? Thank you for your unending amounts of forgiveness?
I can phrase it a hundred different pretty ways, at not once will I ever come close to conveying the depth of the emotions I feel for her.
Even still, I realize now that I’m doing Willow a great wrong by not letting her know just how special she is. Not for the first time, I damn myself for my inability to communicate. Deep inside, I know that my own fears are, once again, the cause of my problems. I exist every day, terrified that whatever I say will end up sounding like something that would come from the mouth of Angelus. I *do* have a sense of humour -- but I worry that people will take my comments the wrong way. The same goes for trying to explain to Willow what it is that I...feel for her. I don’t want her to think that I’m some lecherous old vampire, or that I’m lying to her or manipulating her in order to get something from her. Those are things that the soulless version of myself would do.
So instead of doing what I know I should, I just let the silence between us go on.
//What I hear when you don’t say a thing.//
Now that I’m thinking about it, Willow is awfully quiet. I glance down, just to check and make sure that she is all right. Feeling my movement, she looks up at the same time, and our eyes meet. I feel flooded with warmth as her the corners of her mouth curl upward into one of her soul-moving smiles.
Right at that moment, I forget all my good intentions of speaking with Willow. Because as soon as I catch sight of that smile, all I want to do is make sure that it stays there. Holding her a little closer, I close my eyes and focus solely on two things: the girl in my arms and the music we are dancing to at the moment.
//The smile on your face lets me know that you need me. There’s a truth in eyes saying you’ll never leave me. The touch of your hand says you’ll catch me wherever I fall. You say it best, when you say nothing at all.//
As I listen to the song, I found myself alternately jealous of and grateful to whomever wrote it. Somehow, they inadvertently managed to capture what I am feeling right now so perfectly. I can only wonder if Willow is thinking the same thing I am.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Geez, of all the songs out there for us to be dancing to, why does it have to be this one? ‘The smile on your face?’ Yeah right. I have a better chance of seeing a full blown solar eclipse than I do of catching Angel smiling or laughing. ‘You’ll never leave me?’ Yeah, sure. Until next week, anyway. After that, he’ll be off to some far far-flung place while I spent my summer here in exotic Sunnydale. Well, at least the ‘when you say nothing at all’ part is right. And I always think that Oz is the expert at having little to say. If Oz is the crown prince at minimalist conversation, then Angel is the past master at it.
I have to wonder how either of them puts up me with me. I mean, I talk all the time. Okay, maybe what I say isn’t always talking, at least not always. It’s more like I just keep going on and on, kind of babbling, I guess. Like I’m doing right now. So how, when they both say so little, do they put up with somebody who tends to say so much?
That’s when I realize that I’ve been thinking so hard about this, that I’ve been too distracted to say anything out loud to Angel. In fact, I’ve been completely silent since we started dancing. Of course, now that I’m aware of it, the silence is starting to become uncomfortable -- for me anyway. I should say something...anything...to fill the quiet. But what should I talk about?
Maybe I should thank him for dancing with me? Or maybe I should say something about Buffy and Xander? Or maybe something about the ascension next week. No, no. That’s dumb. Tonight is supposed to be about celebrating, especially since we’re probably gonna get our asses...
No! Don’t go there!
Without meaning to, my hands involuntarily clench like they do whenever I start thinking about impending death situations. Only this time I just happen to have my hands full of Angel’s back. I worry about what he’s going to think, but instead of saying anything, Angel just tightens his grip, pulling me a little bit closer to him. At the same time, he moves one of his hands from it’s place on my waist up to cradle the back of my head, encouraging me to rest my cheek against his chest. Duh! Like I need any encouraging to do that. But even as I do so, I feel something go tingly inside of me.
Oh God, what is he doing to me? I’m so jealous of Buffy right now! It’s no wonder that she went through everything she...well...went through to be with Angel. Being in his arms is like being wrapped up in the world’s biggest, most comfortable quilt. I feel so safe here because I know that, as long as Angel is holding me, he won’t let anything happen to me.
//All day long I can hear people talking out loud. But when you hold me near, you drown out the crowd.//
Feeling like this, my heart just goes out to Angel. How many conversations have I heard...or even participated in...where Angel was the prime subject of discussion? Ever since we found out he was back, Giles hasn’t been really subtle about how little he trusts Angel. And Xander, geez, I don’t even want to go there.
Angel must have known what was going on, but there is one thing I will probably never understand. How could he stand it all these months...years, even? He must know that not everybody welcomes his presence in our lives, even after he’s pulled our butts out of the fire *how* many times?
//Try as they may, they can never define, What’s been said between your heart and mine.//
He’s a good person. I mean, I know that better than anyone, even Buffy, because I’ve touched his soul itself. Well, maybe touched isn’t the best word to describe it. It was more like it actually passed through me back when I did the restoration spell. It was so amazing, to...see...Angel like that, to know all the good -- the happiness -- that he keeps hidden away deep inside himself. I wonder if he even knows that it’s there anymore? I wish he would open himself up to it once in a while. Then maybe Xander would stop using him as the butt of so many bad jokes.
Now as I’m being held in Angel’s arms, I feel ashamed that I haven’t done more to defend him from Xander and everybody else. Maybe if I had, Angel wouldn’t be leaving. Maybe if I’d just done more to show Angel that I’ve always considered him a friend, I might’ve had the chance to experience being in his arms more often.
Oh God! What am I doing? Heeeelll-llooo? Rosenburg! What *are* you thinking? He’s your best friend’s boyfriend.
*Ex-boyfriend* that naughty little voice in the backwaters of my subconscious reminds me.
I can feel the heat rising in my face, and I’m almost too late to stifle the groan of embarrassment that’s welling up in my throat. I look up and out of the corner of my eye, I can see Angel glancing down at me in return. Darn. Have to hide my face before he notices me blushing. Okay, the closest available place to do that is right in front of me.
Oh, big mistake.