Fic: Fluffy White Carpet (Part 1/?)

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Hello people. I'm one of those weird posters who come every 
couple of months offering tidbits. Anywhoo, Read and enjoy. I kind of 
like the premise, so who knows, this may be the start of a really
long 
fic. 

Part 1

The girl didn't pay attention to the sounds of life around her: 
a couple of teenagers laughing as they ran towards their car or a man 
in a navy blue suit standing under an overpass talking on a cell 
phone. She was wrapped up in the night. 


She never fully paid attention to her surroundings, always burdened 
with a problem of some sort, whether or not she should go to some 
party or stay home and do some homework, maybe trying to figure out 
how to do something, always something, something, something. 

Once her mom had bought her a motivational book after she had made a
B in history in 6th grade. On the back of it there was a quote that
said "how you decide to spend your time now determines who you will 
become in the future." That had convinced her to try to always be 
self-improving. But not tonight. 

Tonight she felt like she wanted to be one with nature. It was
amazing really, the way the sky was stormy and the fog and the street 
lights mixed together so that the sky was purple. There was no moon, 
no stars, and all she could feel was the soft breeze against her rain 
soaked cheeks.  

It was amazing really, the feeling of not caring about anything.  
Simply not giving a damn. Her shoes squished against the sidewalk and 
her hair seemed to cling to her cheeks, and she completely didn't 
care. 
*	*	*	*	*
Buffy stared down as the blue sugar swirled away and left her 
with white lumps, unadorned with flavor. She looked up and stared at 
the un-labeled cereal box and the offending milk and sighed.
	

The night had been uneventful to say the least. Her father was 
supposed to swing by and take her out to dinner while her mom stayed 
for a night with her sister in L.A, a thinly-veiled guise that
allowed her to stay at least a 200 mile radius away from Hank. At 
least hehad the courtesy to pay seven dollars a minute from an 
airplane phone to inform her that he was not able to make it. Some 
kind of dad. 


The phone rang, and her inner monologue on bad parenting and 
poorly made cereal stopped as she went towards the door. 
Maybe it was her father and he had just been joking about not 
being able to come and they would go out for dinner and she could
have a Caesar salad and she wouldn't be condemned to blue milk and
she 
would get ice cream and they would?
She opened the door and looked out. Nobody was there. She 
looked down. 


Willow was completely soaked and she was clinging to a bottle of 
Jack Daniels, which happened to be empty. Stepping out into the
rain, 
she stooped down and got a good look at Willow. 
"Heyyy," Willow said, her lips twitching into a Mona Lisa smile as 
her eyes fluttered closed for a second.
"Hey," Buffy said, trying to forget about the lump in her throat. 
"What happened?"
"Oh, nothing really. I just walked into Oz's room and saw some girl 
changing. I was doing pretty well then, slightly embarrassed. Then I 
looked over and saw that fornicator in the bed, and I didn't feel so 
well. But some guy handed me a bottle of this vile tasting stuff and 
told me it would make me feel better. Surprisingly, it did. I don't 
care," Willow said as she leaned down and pressed her cheek to the 
pavement as her eyes seemed to fill with rain and tears until the 
world seemed to swim before her. And all of a sudden the pavement 
wasn't there.
	
"Whaaa," she mumbled to herself as the rain and the sky 
disappeared and she was somehow suspended in mid air. 
"Ohh," she said as it hit her, obviously Buffy was carrying her. 
		
*	*	*	*	*

Buffy knelt down, put one arm under the girl's leg and one around 
her torso, hoisting her up easily into her arms, and wedged through 
the door. Willow mumbled inaudibly, and the girl tried to decide what 
to do. Sighing, she trudged up the stairs, kicked her door open with 
her foot, and put Willow down on the ground. 
"Willow, stay here, I'm going to get some towels and then I'm 
going to put you into bed. We'll probably need to talk in the 
morning."
Buffy left the room and went to search for a clean towel. Willow, on 
the verge of reality, laid her head down onto the fluffy white
carpet. 
"Ahhhh."

TBC? I'm scared to write the next part, because I think my mind seems 
to be heading towards the gutter.

P.S
*Doing a little happy dance* Hey, this is neat. You must have read my 
fic. I just wanted to let you in on a little secret: I enjoy
feedback. 
If you hate it and want to condemn me for ruining the reputation of 
writers everywhere, tell me. I'm not judgemental. Those who like it 
and support my endeavors can write in too. I hate shamelessly begging 
for tidbits of info, but I can't help it. Feedback to me is the 
equivalant of chocolate-flavored crack.