Addiction
by UrbanGoth
Admittance
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4. Admittance
Sunlight streamed through the gap in the curtains, highlighting the hair that sat around her delicate features. Outside, the sun crept slowly from his position behind the horizon to listen to the larks' morning song and watch the glistening dew disspate under his warm breath. Her eyes drifted slightly open to guage the world around her. The light pierced her pupils. It was a beautiful morning, the kind you always read about in sappy, unrealistic, unbelievable, romance trash.
Buffy got up and shut the curtains.
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Willow hugged the blanket around herself tighter. Her mind swam with images of times passed. Her energy had been drained the night before. Her usually vibrant, auburn hair was a dull, almost brown colour, limp and lifeless, it sat behind her ears. A few stray strands clung to her cheeks where the tears had dried them - they had dried long ago, dried up and shrivelled away with her energy. Her roots were greasy and dark. She absently raked her fingers through the short waves, sighing.
Last night had taken everything from her. Aside from the things that she had already lost. She stared down at her own fingers clutching the cloth and brought her hands out infront of her. The blanket became loose and a draft wafted in, causing a shiver to run through the young witch. She continued to look at her hands. They were shaking. With cold? With guilt? With fear? She wasn't sure. She turned them steadily, never taking her eyes from them. An invisible dirt had grown on them. One that was impossible to cleanse. She hated to think of Buffy this way, but she knew that's what it was. She remembered touching Buffy with those hands, probing the slayer with her fingers.
Her mind wandered to the last time she had thought of touching Buffy. It elicited a completely different feeling then. It was harmless attraction then. Lust - simple and clean. It was a passing thought. Buffy was her friend and had never been in question when it came to sex. She remembered creeping to the bathroom and satiating herself on her own, having not to touch anything else, keeping it within her own mind. It was purely a fleeting moment of lust.
Which had somehow turned to need.
Still she stared at her hands, which were now turning blue with the cold. No-one had bothered with the heating. She and Buffy had come in and gone straight to bed - seperate beds! She sighed again and brought her hands to her mouth, ready to warm them with her breath, but jumped back. She had done the same the night before, before... before she had fucked Buffy. There was no other word for it. She could still smell the slayer's essence on her fingers despite having washed them over and over and over. Silently cursing herself, she gripped the blanket around herself again.
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Buffy stirred again in her sleep, waking at the sound of the door slamming shut. Dawn must have left. The slayer shuffled up the bed and groggily rubbed her eyes, then ran her hands lazily across her cheeks, ridding herself of the hair that clung to her face. She swung her legs around the side of the bed, got up and padded towards the bathroom, grabbing a large sweatshirt on the way. Itching below her white tank top, she opened the door to the bathroom, thanking whatever higher power existed that it was Saturday and she needn't worry about making Dawn lunch. She pulled on the sweatshirt. Saturday was by far the greatest creation of all creations. A day to shop and not care ab-
She froze. The girl in the mirror stared back into her own wide eyes. She could also see the small, square gauze on the right of her neck, and, Buffy guessed, she too was remembering everything that happened only 7 hours ago. Spike. Willow. Everything. Her neck began to ache and she gently picked at the corner, daring herself to peel back the sticky, white, cotton patch. 'Do it quickly Buffy, it hurts less.' She remembered her mother's voice and the amount of times she had heard that phrase due to coming back from Giles's 'Home Hospital' service after late-night slayage. Buffy still wasn't sure if she agreed or not. She quickly ripped off the patch and stared out the two bloody holes that had been reopened. The fact that he had purposefully bitten exactly where Angel had disgusted her the most. Like colouring in. He kept inside the lines and everything.
Her stomach turned and she ran to the toilet, lifted the seat and proceeded to vomit.
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Dawn strolled casually through the door, having rid herself of the garbage bags and waltzed into the kitchen. She and Tara had checked on Buffy and Willow about an hour ago. Willow had wrapped herself in the blanket Tara gave her for her birthday last year and fallen asleep on top of the quilt, curled in a little ball. Tara got pretty upset seeing that, but Dawn got why. Tara obviously loves Willow with all she has, and will have, which must have made it pretty hard for her to just leave Willow like that. She always asks about her too. Asks how she's doing and if everything's okay. She left pretty quickly after cooking breakfast and tidying and putting away the covers Amy had used last night. Dawn remembered Tara's reaction when she told her about Amy. Obviously, she didn't have much to tell her, what with no-one telling her anything remotely like the whole truth, but what she did tell her made Tara get all quiet. There's something about Amy that Dawn wanted to ask Buffy about...
But despite having made the resolution to do so, she almost immeadiately found herself wondering what was going through Willow's mind. She must've been pretty upset to come in so late last night. It was normal for Buffy - she was probably out wrestling some big bad - but not Will. What time did she come in? Maybe 2 or 3. Willow was usually in pretty early, she being the responsible type. A twinge of sadness caught in Dawn's eyes, and her nose began to tingle. You know that feeling you get when you will yourself not to cry? That one, that's what she was feeling. Dawn wasn't stupid though, I mean, she saw what was happening to Willow, with the magicks and all. But Willow was always the strong one. She was the one that Buffy went to when she was breaking down. And she never disregarded Dawn. Until last night.
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Willow cringed at the sound bouncing through the hallway. Desperate wretches and coughs. She knew it wasn't Dawn. Fresh tears started at the thought that she was the base of this. It was her fault Buffy couldn't wake without throwing up. She knew Buffy hadn't been eating well either. She wiped at her eyes, the reaction had become a motor skill recently. So many tears had been shed. Her head banged against the headboard and she wished she could feel it. If only she could feel the sharp bump on her head and it would take away all her problems, even if only for a split second. A split second was all she wanted, just to remember what it was like to not have to think about anything.
She heard again the cruel cough from the bathroom. It was strained and Willow could almost feel her own vocal chords burning away under the hot stomach lining coursing up the throat. How much she wanted just to put her arm around the small girl's shoulders and whisper and coo into her ear. 'Sssh Buffy, it'll be okay. It's just a bug. Don't worry, I'm here. I'll make sure you're okay.'
She closed her eyes to stop crying and tried to sleep, to dream of a better time for them both. In her heart, Willow knew she would not end it by reversing the spell. Despite any and all of the depths of Hell she had been to recently, despite all the pain and hurt, despite every loss, never once did it cross her mind that having Buffy back was not worth it.
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Buffy wiped the bright yellow liquid from her mouth. [Note to self: Start eating.] Flushing away the bile that gathered in a pool in the toilet, she finally began to brush her teeth, still coughing. Willow must have carried her home from the Magic Box or something because she couldn't remember a damn thing after... that. She must've changed her into her nightclothes too. Buffy fidgeted a little, drawing herself in. That meant Willow had seen her naked. She drew herself in more, wondering why the hell that even bothered her. God, she and Willow had... y'know, and she got the wiggins just thinking that Willow had changed her clothing and caught glimpse of her body.
She ran her toothbrush under the tap and exited the bathroom, retreating back to her bedroom. She wasn't even sure what to make of it. The thing last night. She'd never done that before but somehow seemed to be really good at it. Willow sure seemed to appreciate it. Of course, Buffy wasn't complaining. Well, apart from the fact that Willow is her best friend and she's gay and Buffy's not and she almost killed an ally - maybe did - and Will didn't even consider her condition because she was reeling on magicks, and they were fighting beforehand and Buffy can't remember anything after it all... Apart from that it was okay.
She collapsed on the bed in an exhasperated lump. Was she gay? Bit of a funny time to be wondering about this but, y'know, why not? What did she have to lose? Third life must be as good as any to become gay. Her head ached a little from throwing up. Or maybe from the sudden onslaught of memories. In Shakespearean days, people believed that you could die of a broken heart. She considered this, trying to remember what the feeling of being in love was like. Trying to remember what it was like to be happy, to feel loved. To feel alive.
The house grew still with her musings and she began to drift away again.
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It's a good job Amy had gone by now otherwise Dawn would have no idea what to say to her. Still, it might have been nice just to even have the opportunity to have an uncomfortable silence with someone. Everyone was either asleep or not around and she didn't want to bug Buffy right now, even though she knew she was awake after hearing her trudge around upstairs. Dawn had seen the patch on her neck and known what was underneath the pure, innocent-looking white shape. She wasn't sure how it got there, though. Maybe that's why Willow was so late in! Maybe she found Buffy slouched against some wall of some building and brought her home and patched her up and stuff. Willow was like the nurse around here. She always takes care of Buffy, bandaging her up and such.
Dawn wondered who Buffy was fighting with this time. Judging from the marks, Dawn would've guessed it was a girl vamp, there were lots of scratches near her shoulders and a bruise on the other side of her neck.
She sighed and shook her head. Trust Buffy to get herself into a position like this.
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Willow opened her eyes at 6:45pm and strolled to the bathroom. She was on autopilot. She climbed into the shower and washed her hair, trying to focus on not falling over and crippling herself. It was a quick shower, unless it just passed quickly. Before she knew it, Willow had crawled out and magicked herself into some clothing. At least her powers were back. Last night she had to move to shut the curtains. Her hair was freshly curled and she adjusted her make-up in the mirror, braced herself for the night ahead and the many questions to be arisen by her late entry, crossed the bathroom threshold and ran into a very tired Buffy.
She was so beautiful. Her eyes were groggy, but still retained that beautiful hazel glint that Willow had always adored. Her hair was messy and fell about in all directions, yet she looked so natural and naked. Her bedclothes accentuated the subtle curves of her athletic figure, covering what was necessary for the sake of modesty.
Buffy almost choked at the sight of the redhead in her made-up glory. She'd never seen Willow not look perfect, and felt inadequate in appearance. When Will wore a t-shirt she made it look good, and here she was, dressed to kill.
Willow slowly leaned in to kiss Buffy.
But stopped.
"Buffy," she inched.
"We have a problem," the blond offered.
Willow nodded and waited for Buffy to come up with a solution, hoping to God it was possible.