Title: Scattered Thoughts: The Look In Your Eyes (1/3)
Author: JR
Email: JRR42@yahoo.com
Rating: PG-13 for language
Episode spoilers: Doppelgangland, Prom Night
Status: Complete
Warning: Songfic
Archive: My site only. www.angelfire.com/de/theparlor/buffy.html
Series/Sequel: Semi-sequel to Scattered Thoughts: Sorry Now, but *before* Road Has Come to an End
Disclaimer: Angel, Willow, et al, are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the WB. All characters are used without permission. This story is not intended to infringe upon any copyrights, nor is any profit being made from it. The song ‘When You Say Nothing at All’ by Ronan Keating is taken from the ‘Notting Hill’ soundtrack, and is also used without permission.
Thanks: As always, to Carrie and Marius for telling it like it was. You two are the best!!
Notes: I originally planned for the Scattered Thoughts stories to be a writing exercise to get comfortable with writing from POV’s other than Angel’s. It has, however, mutated into a series of missing scenes from various episodes. Given that the story is mostly a stream-of-consciousness thing, there are a number of purposeful grammatical mistakes.
This one came from a conversation I had with Anaelle. See, normally I *hate* songs like this one, especially since it’s by a ‘boy band’ singer. Anaelle laughed and said something along the lines of ‘it’s pretty as an Oz/Willow song, but it could never work in a W/A story.’ Well, I thought differently. I just hope this interpretation works.
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.




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