Fic: Fluffy White Carpet (part 2/?)

[weryvcb@xxxxxxxxx]

Hi again people. This is the next part, which was produced by 
insomnia, and I wish to blame it soley on that. Umm, so enjoy. 


Part 2

Buffy walked back into the room with a couple of towels to witness 
Willow lying face down with her head buried in the carpet, moaning.
"Oh boy," she though.
"Willow, can you hear me?" Buffy said.
"Ahohmmmnm."
"Right, now maybe you could sit up, I could dry your hair."

Making no intention of moving, Buffy came over and hoisted the 
red head up so that she was leaning against her, and the blonde began 
to towel dry the girls hair softly.
"Willow, why did you do this to yourself?"
Buffy could feel the heat of the girl through her wet clothes, and 
began to feel slightly apprehensive. What exactly does one do with 
their passed out best friend?
"Willow, I'm going to get you some clothes."
"Mhmmnm."

Ignoring the sound of Willow's head hitting her carpet once again, 
Buffy got up and went over to her chest of drawers and pulled out at 
random a big blue t-shirt with a picture of a cartoon monkey on it. 
Then she went and knelt down next to Willow, wondering what in the 
hell she was supposed to do. She couldn't leave her in soaking wet 
clothes, and she dismissed the idea of just wrapping her up in a 
towel and plopping her in the bed, figuring the hangover she was 
going to have in the morning was enough torture. 
"Ok, work with me here."

Tentatively, Buffy put her hands on the bottom of Willow's t-shirt, 
debating how exactly this should be done. 
"Ok Willow, I'm going to remove your shirt now for a second."
Silence.

"Alright, here we go."
Buffy jerked the shirt off in one fluent motion, and stared for a 
second at the expanse of skin and flesh before her. The girl was 
lying with both of her hands above her head, and her silky red hair 
covered her eyes and partly shielded the girls mouth, which happened 
to be twisted into a small smile.

Trying to ignore the swell of her breasts under her soaked white bra, 
she moved down and began undoing the laces to her boots. Grabbing her 
the shoe with her hand, she jerked and it came of with a squelch, 
splashing water all over the carpet. She heard a slight giggle and 
she looked up and saw Willow staring at her, with her green eyes 
glazed over in an alcohol-induced haze. Feeling really guilty, as if 
she had been caught stealing from a tip jar, she continued more 
hurriedly. With her hands trembling, she began to quickly unbutton 
the girls jeans, fiddling with the big brass buttons. Finally done, 
she slowly pulled her pants down, and watched in a bemused amazement 
at the wonderful contrast between the tight dark-as-night jeans and 
pale skin.

"That's right," Buffy mumbled to herself, " it's all about the 
contrast. I don't care that Willow is sprawled out before me in like 
see-through underwear. I do not care at all. Yep, that's me, trusty 
friend, and this is simply good old naked Willow, yep naked?."

Her inner thoughts were cut off as Willow slowly returned to the land 
of the living, propping her self up haphazardly onto her elbows, 
seemingly unaware of the oddity of the present conditions. 
"Hey Buffy," Willow said, her voice slurred and husky from all the 
whiskey.
Buffy gulped audibly, and suddenly felt very unsure of what to do 
with her hands.
"Hey Willow." 
"I'm sorry," Willow said with a slight pout and downcast eyes.
"Oh hey, it's ok. I wasn't doing anything tonight," she said and 
leaned over and started to give Willow a hug, then backed away. 
Grabbing the shirt, she slid the top of it over Willow's head, 
giggling slightly at Willow's confusion and the mumblings that 
escaped through the blue fabric. Pulling the shirt down, she got up 
and put all of Willow's old clothes in the hamper, not caring about 
their mud stained water logged state and sat down Indian style next 
to Willow.
Unexpectedly, Willow nudged over and laid her head down on Willow's 
lap, looking up at Buffy expectantly. Unsettled by the new weight 
against her, she got up and gently gathered the drunk girl into her 
arms and laid her down on the bed, slowly covering her with the 
blanket, and savoring the innocence of it all. 

She knew that in the morning it would hurt. She would know that she 
had been cheated on, that the world of love wasn't a safe or happy 
place, but prickled with thorns and cruelty and lies. Is that what 
love is? Wanting to present the world as truly beautiful to somebody 
else? Because that's what she felt.

Staring at her friend, who even in sleep curled up and clutched the 
comforter in her hands, was perfect, was everything that she wanted.  
Called it a possessive streak, but she wanted to hunt down Oz, and do 
something. Something that would make him hurt like this, to stumble 
out into a night that even the vampires hid from, just crawling to 
the arms of somebody who she knew would protect her. 
	

She could tell that the girl knew. She knew everything, the feelings 
that she tried so hard to keep hidden, and she knew they saw through. 
Willow had caught her once, in gym, when she had raked her eyes over 
her lanky limbs, her graceful yet clumsy movements, movement in a 
rhythm that was all her own. She had loved Angel, like a sickness, it 
ate her up because she knew it was wrong, even after he turned evil, 
even after he had killed. But Willow was the exact opposite of Angel, 
and she loved her for that too. Angel had stared at her with intense 
eyes. Willow had just saw her in the hall, and with her fluffy green 
sweater, linked her arm with Buffy's and had walked her all the way 
to class, so many times. 

It's awful, really, to want something this badly. Oh god, it was her 
own personal stake through the heart, because she knew, she knew, 
knew, that she could be so much better then either Oz or Xander. She 
knew it. She would remember all the anniversaries, she would make the 
corny breakfast in beds, and she would bring the idiotic flowers and 
she would by the pointless presents, because she wanted to be the 
best thing for her. Her mom seemed to move on another plane than her, 
oblivious to life and love, caught up in the world of art and beauty. 
And her father didn't care, wasn't in her world or on her plane. And 
friends seemed to pass by namelessly. 

God, so many times people talked and talked without sense or reason. 
And yet somehow, through layers of cynicism, Willow had managed to 
reach her, and in the girl she had found that person. The person that 
she could idiotically stay up with all night talking.


And that one person, happened to be completely out of her reach. She 
knew that she was pretty, that if it had been a guy, she could have 
gotten him. But it wasn't, it was her best friend, who sprawled so 
trustingly before her.
	

Willow rolled over with a sigh, revealing the wet stain of her head 
on the white pillow, and nestled farther into the bed. With a sigh, 
Buffy reached over and turned off the light, and wandered off to 
sleep in her mom's room. 

TBC