Title: Scattered Thoughts: The Road Has Come to an End
Author: JR
Email: JRR42@yahoo.com
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.
Thanks: As always, to Carrie and Marius for letting me know if I was on the right track. *Not* beta'd due to the nature of the story, so all errors are mine and mine alone.
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. Almost every LOC I got for Sorry Now either demanded, begged, or pleaded for a sequel...so, here we are. (See what feedback gets you? ;-) This is my first real attempt at writing Willow, so I hope it’s not too far off the mark.

//I don’t how or where to start, here we’re standing again
And I see now from where we are, that our road has come to an end.
And though we’ve come this far,
I don’t why, but I still can’t see who you are.
I don’t want you to cry, don’t want us to say goodbye,
But I know that we’re falling apart...//
How Will I Know (Who You Are)? -- Jessica


Please God, never again. Don’t let me have to go to another funeral ever again. Too many already.

Jessie, Kayla, Brian...

God, it hurts. It hurts so badly. Oh, please, no. No more tears. I don’t think I *can* cry anymore. Please God, no more days like today.

...Devon, Kurt, Maggie, Theresa, Miss Calendar, the swim team...

At least they did three big funerals instead of 14 separate ones. Nice services, too. I can’t believe I just thought that. So many funerals now I can rate them. 8.5 for song tearjerk-factor. 3.1 for minister sincerity. 5.5 for accuracy on personality...

...I am *so* twisted.

...Larry, Harmony, Julia...

...STOP IT! No more!! Not. Ever. Again!!

My rage is out of control as I get up off my bed and practically rip the black jumper off of myself. I’m so sick of wearing this thing! I savagely shove ugly garment deep into my wastebasket and flop half-naked onto my bed. Funeral after damned funeral. I’m tired of losing my friends. I’m tired of being under constant pressure to save the world. I’m just...tired.

But at least it’s over. Once more we’ve stopped the end of civilization as we know it. How many times is that now?

How many times has one of us been hurt? How many trips to the hospital? How many bandages, or bruises, or scrapes, or stab wounds, or blood stains, or sprains, or cuts, or head injuries, or poison...

God, could I like possibly be any more morbid? I sound like Winona Ryder in Beetlejuice.

This is *supposed* to be one of the happiest times of my life -- free of high school, two months before I have to actively start thinking about college. I have a boyfriend who loves me -- who I just lost my virginity to.

Me. Dependable Willow Ann Rosenberg. I did...*that*...with a boy. I let him...and he...and *we* ...and...oh wow.

I close my eyes and try to get the feeling back -- that first second he slid into me. Ummm, it’s like I can still feel it. And it wasn’t nearly as painful as everybody said it would be. Wonder why that is? I mean, it did hurt...a little. Maybe it’s me. Maybe there’s something wrong with my body. Oz didn’t say anything, though. He probably didn’t want me to feel bad. Maybe I’m really weird and he just couldn’t tell me. Maybe it was terrible for him...

...no. He said he enjoyed it. He *acted* like he enjoyed it.

Still, Buffy said that it was so incredible being with Angel. She said she saw stars, or at least those weird golden things that you see on the backs of your eyelids if you close your eyes after staring at the sun too long.

How come I didn’t see those?

Maybe it was Angel. I’ll bet he’s like...amazing. He must be after being around for two hundred and fifty years.

Angel.

I can’t believe he’s really leaving. How can he do this? I mean, I know it’s for the best. I as much as told Buffy so when she came over here crying the day of the prom. I hated seeing her hurt so much. I did what I thought she wanted me to do -- I told her what a bad guy he was for not wanting to stay with her.

Or, at least I tried to.

I just couldn’t seem to get the words out, though. Making Angel into the bad guy just felt so wrong. He’s not. A bad guy, that is. Well, I mean he was for a while there, but he got better. I made him better.

Yea, me!

But he’s really doing it. Leaving, that is. I knew it when I saw him after graduation. He was standing off in the distance, staring at Buffy like it was going to be the last time he would ever see her. Well, of course he was. It *was* going to be the last time, for a while, anyway. Then he just disappeared in that...disappearing way of his. Ninja-vamp as Xander calls it. ‘Becoming one with the shadows’ I giggle to myself.

The giggle stops after a moment as my thoughts turn more serious.

He’s really leaving. Buffy’s gonna be here every day crying her eyes out for the next month. Oh, she’ll hide it from Giles, and her mother, and Xander; but she’ll never hide it from me. At least Xander will be happy, until he sees how miserable Buffy is, then he’ll have something new to put down Angel for. Oz will be...well...Oz. I think deep down, though, Oz kinda likes Angel. It’s funny, but they seem to be able to talk to each other...like real conversation kind of talk -- with sentences even. Maybe it’s the whole werewolf-vampire thing. Is that what it is? A creature-of-the-night-that-craves-hurting-other-living- creatures connection?

Ewww.

I sigh to myself because, deep down, I know that Angel’s departure will only be the first. Xander will be next, going on that stupid cross-country-going-to-find- himself trip of his. Cordy will be off to whichever college she chose. God, I still can’t *believe* she got accept to those kinds of schools. Who knew she was so smart under that queen-of-the-world attitude of hers? It’s not fair. Why does she have it all? Popularity, money, confident to a fault, *and* she’s gorgeous. Everything I’ve never had. Well, she doesn’t have everything, though. At least her claws are out of Xander.

Oooh, bad Willow. That was mean, even for me.

Xander and Cordy. As much as I hate to admit it, they were a...an...interesting couple. At least until Xander and I...

Don’t go there, Willow. High guilt factor dead ahead. Besides, I’m broody enough today to give even Angel a run for his money.

Angel.

One thing is really bothering me. He didn’t say goodbye. Then again, why would he bother saying anything to me? I’m just Buffy plain little friend, the one everybody turns to for tutoring or computer help or even simple magic stuff. But who am I kidding? If Angel just slipped away from Buffy like that, why would I think he would ever treat me any differently?

It still hurts. And before long, this one little thing becomes the scapegoat for my anger and frustration at all the things in my life that are out of my control. In fact, the longer I lay here, the more Angel’s slight mutates from simple inconsideration into burning rage.

How could he? How could he do that to me? I saved his soul, damn it! I helped him every time he ever asked, and even a few times he didn’t! I defended him whenever Xander had something mean to say about him. I even took his side over Xander’s that time when we first found out he was back and Faith went after him. And that was after he gutted my fish...after he tried to kill me.

A shiver runs through me as I remember the terror I felt that night. Angel’s...Angelus’ hands pinning me against him...the chill of his breath as he taunted Xander, Buffy, and Miss Calendar...the feel of the stake in his pocket poking me in my lower back.

Kind of like how it felt to rub up against Oz the other night....oh.

Ooooh! Oh my!

It couldn’t have...no...no way....

....could it? Could Angel...us really have had a...a happy? Why? It couldn’t have been from...that. Not with Buffy right there. What else...oh, of course! Killing me -- just the thought of killing me, that must have been it. I mean, Angel’s held me before...kinda, anyway...and I don’t remember him getting one of those then. Well, then again, I was still pretty out of it from the gas that time in the school basement, but that’s beside the point. And there was that time he saved me from that crazy Watcher lady. Okay, granted that really doesn’t count since he practically knocked me over, but it was still holding, wasn’t it? Oh, I almost forgot about that night the other...evil, vamped out me was here. Angel held me that night, too, when he came over here after we sent her back to her reality. I still can’t believe how incredibly sweet it was for him to come here just to make sure that I was okay. And he hugged me!! A for-real kind of hug, too!! But not...that...kind of hug.

Angel? Excited over me? God, he’s so beautiful. I mean Oz is cute, but Angel...oh wow. And so out of my league. Not that I would ever, *ever* lust after my best friend’s boyfriend. No. But...you’d have to be blind to miss how incredibly handsome...and built...and mysterious...

...and I get a sudden urge to see him one last time.

Just to look at him once more before he goes.

Only...to say goodbye. That’s it. I want to tell him goodbye. That’s the only reason. Or, at least that’s the only reason I’ll admit to myself.

Before I know what I’m doing, I’m halfway out the door. Only when the chill of the air conditioned breeze hits my body do I realize I’m still pretty much naked. Oh. Right. Clothes first.

Yanking open my closet door, I grab ahold of the first thing in my reach. It’s a red jumper, one of many...non-descript pieces of clothing I own. I put it back on the rack unnerved by my hesitation. I don’t know why, but suddenly it’s important to me to look nice. How crazy is that? I mean, realistically, Angel’s probably long gone by now. That aside, what in the hell am I thinking? Why do I want to look nice for Angel all of a sudden? And what do I have to wear that’s nice?

I flip through the hangers, searching for I don’t really know what. There, at the back of the closet. It’s the outfit Buffy almost talked me into wearing that bizarre Halloween two years ago, the one I covered up with that stupid ghost outfit. I felt so daring when I bought it, knowing that it was so totally out of character for me. I’d hoped that it would make Xander see me like I wanted to be -- pretty, sexy, confident. Like Buffy, I guess. I never wore it again after that night.

And I won’t wear it now. At least not all of it together. But the skirt...the skirt is perfect with that semi-low-cut sweater I bought two weeks ago. I put my newly matched outfit on, add a little make-up to my face, grab a stake from my desk drawer since I’ve got to go by the cemetery to get to the mansion, and I’m out the door before I can even consider the why’s and wherefore’s of what I’m doing in the first place.

I don’t even know what I’ll say if he *is* there, but I don’t really care, either.

Please God, let him be there. Please just let me see him one more time...