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.

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.

My cheek is resting again the firm muscles of his chest. The fabric against my face is cool, even in the heat of this crowded room. Well duh, Willow! That’s what happens when you dance with tuxed-out vampires.

All too soon, I feel Angel moving back ever so slightly. Curious as to what’s wrong, I look up at his face. He’s looking down at me, almost as if he’s been waiting for me -- like there is something he wants to tell me.

As our eyes meet, I’m frozen in place like a deer caught in headlights at two in the morning. It’s like I’m under some kind of spell, but if I am, I don’t ever want it to stop. Whatever kind of magic this is, it’s giving me one of the most incredible gifts I could ever imagine.

In this one instant, something is happening. Maybe it’s Angel. Maybe, for one small minute, he’s completely let down his defenses. Or maybe it’s just me. It’s weird, but I feel like I’m omnipotent.

Because right now, I can see right into Angel’s soul.

It’s all there in the open -- all the emotions he always keeps so carefully hidden behind that mystery-guy persona. In his eyes I see happiness at this moment in time and yet, I can also see his eternal sadness, the loneliness he lives with every day. Although the pain that his constant companion is still there, it’s been pushed aside for this one, special moment.

On the fringes of my consciousness, I’m barely aware that something has touched my face. I’m so lost in the emotions parading around in the rich, pure brown of Angel’s eyes, that I hate to spare even the slightest portion of my brain to figure out what touched me. At least until I feel it again.

How could I have forgotten that Angel’s hand was still resting on my cheek? What I’m feeling is his thumb against my skin. But ‘touching’ isn’t an adequate word to describe what it feels like. It’s so personal, so kind and warm, that it almost feels like he’s caressing me.

As I feel that cool brush of his fingers against my skin one more time, I’m drawn in by the subtle shift in Angel’s eyes. There are new emotions there now, and with strange, deep wisdom that I didn’t know I was capable of, I suddenly realize that what I am about to see is for me alone.

The differences are barely discernable, but to me they seem to be illustrated like a neon sign in pitch darkness. There, in his eyes, is friendship -- pure and simple. The gratitude I see there almost moves me to tears. Caring, gentleness, respect and even...admiration? Angel admires *me*? What on earth for? I banish all my own questions to some distant corner of my mind. Right now, all I want to do is burn the memory of this moment completely into my mind.

But Angel isn’t finished yet.

Oh, there’s so much more to be seen. For once, I catch a glimpse of the hope that he keeps buried so deep within himself -- his inner desire to make a difference in the world that keeps him from walking into the sunlight each day. And yet, there is also a deep sadness, different from the one I saw before. This one is more recent, tainted by regret and remorse. His leaving town... that’s gotta be it. I can’t help but think that there is something else, though. There’s something he’s regretting even more right now, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out what it is. I feel like I’m missing something even when I see it, that I *should* be able to figure it out because somehow, it’s *very* important.

But the moment is fading rapidly. Whatever spell or gift I’ve been temporarily given is leaving me now, ebbing away like a tide. Instead of feeling empty, it’s almost like I’m buoyant right now, like I’m experiencing the world’s most ultimate happy. This...sharing...between us may be over, but the warmth I felt while it was happening is still there. I feel closer to Angel than I’ve ever been, and by the expression on his face, I know he is going through the same thing.

This warm, fuzzy feeling isn’t the only thing that I’m going to get out of whatever it was that just happened. Holding each other like we are, I know from the slight tensing of the muscles underneath my hands, that Angel is leaning a little forward in my direction. My heart actually skips a beat when I see him give me one of the most tender smiles I’ve ever seen. Without removing his hand from my cheek, he stoops ever so slowly and presses a long, soft kiss to my forehead.

I don’t realize that I’ve closed my eyes until I feel his cool, gentle lips move away from my forehead.

I don’t know if I can describe what that tiny action means to me. Even though it isn’t exactly Harlequin-y or romantic, it is one of most passionate things I’ve ever felt. It’s about friendship. It’s a promise that comes right from Angel’s un-beating heart.

//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.//

There is a laugh building up inside me. I was *so* wrong before when I said this was probably the worst song for us to be dancing to. In fact, I can’t think of a better one to describe the two of us at this exact moment.

Because in that smile of his, I saw his true feelings. I know now that, without a so much as a word, while he may be leaving the city limits of Sunnydale, Angel won’t be going far. Not really. If and when I ever need him -- whether it’s to help me move furniture or to rescue me from Hell itself -- I know that Angel will be there for me. No questions asked.

After all, that’s the way it is between friends, isn’t it?

~~finis~~