Blood Letting
by Valyssia
Life Afterlife
[reviews]
You see...shit adds up, now I'm dead inside. Hatred, weakness, and guilt keep me alive at the bottom.
Growling loudly as the room grew brighter, Buffy put her forearm across her eyes. "The house had better be on fire," she grumbled. Her head was pounding and it did nothing to improve her mood. Day thirteen and I've got no clue what the fuck happened last night. I'm sensing a pattern.
Willow placed her hands over her eyes. "I'm with the blonde. Leave or I'll kill you," she growled viciously. Regretting it seconds later when her head began to throb.
"Is that anyway to treat an old friend?" Whistler quipped smoothly, trying to press back a fraction of the amusement he felt. These broads are funny.
"That does it," Buffy growled, reaching over her head to retrieve a throwing knife.
Whistler smiled as the vampire glared at him, obviously having trouble focusing her eyes. "Sorry, blondie, you only get that once," he retorted in a smug voice. Holding up a stack of flat throwing knives as though they were a winning hand of cards, he cast them aside onto the end table with an exaggerated wink. "Look, can't stay—" he offered, pausing to allow both vampires their, 'Thank god.' "Feelin' the love here, lemme tell ya. And after all I've done for you two."
Buffy pulled a pillow over her face.
"You might wanna listen up, 'Akasha,' " Whistler sniped, watching hopefully for some signs of interest. "Jeeze... You two are somethin'. Know you had a rough night, but—" he sighed, "See, the Powers are a pretty tough crowd when it comes to gettin' mixed up in what happens down here. They got a bad history with—"
"Would you get to the point?" Willow grumbled, trying to look at the sleazy little demon, but finding her eyes unwilling to focus. "Remember me? The one who kept you alive? Not that patient today."
"Yeah, whatever, Enkil. I don't really think you can stand. So, not all that threatened, sorry," Whistler remarked arrogantly.
"Hey! How'd I end up the—?" Willow snapped, regretting it the second before she stopped because of the knife that seemed to bury itself in her temple. She was actually compelled to check for figurative or literal stabbage as she used the other hand to draw a pillow over her aching head. A groan issued from her when she realized that the sleaze demon intended to continue speaking.
Raising an index finger in the air, Whistler continued, "Nice job sacrificing yourself, dollface. They take that kinda junk seriously. Made things lots easier for me. Think it was the seller. They're done takin' the rap for the frog, though. So, knock it off." Reaching into his shirt pocket, he pulled out a small silver bottle, placing it on the end table. "Managed to convince 'em to toss in a little bonus for you too, blondie. A video'll be thanks enough."
Glaring across the room, Buffy finally managed to clear her eyes. Seconds later, she lamented the choice. Whistler was wearing the worst Hawaiian shirt ever, a pair of khaki shorts, brown dress socks, and black loafers. His shirt looks like a smurf puked on it. And still with the bad hat. Someone so needs to set fire to his closet.
"I gotta run," Whistler commented dryly. Ignoring the chorus of 'thank god' this time, he added, "Got a little honey in Puerto Rico needin' some guidance. Thanks to you two dames, my schedule's booked solid."
A flash of light caused Buffy to reflexively shut her eyes. Blinking again to clear them, she made out only fuzzy furniture shapes. Flopping back on to the bed, she asked, "What the hell was that about?"
"I'm sorta happy for the not-so-blissful ignorance, myself," Willow groaned pressing the pillow down over her face to block out the light from the open curtains. Not having to breathe has its perks.
Thinking back over the barrage of rude comments, Buffy finally managed, "Did he say something about a video?"
"You were listening?" Willow asked, fighting back the urge to laugh because she knew it'd just make her head hurt worse.
Buffy sighed and tried to get out of bed, the attempt ended with her laying flat on her back on the floor. "'Kay so... Bad idea," she noted as she struggled to pull herself into bed. Receiving some assistance from her redheaded counterpart, she finally managed to find her way back. Grateful to be at least mildly comfortable again, she put a pillow over her head and went back to sleep.
***********
When Buffy next stirred, it was dark in the room. Groaning softly to herself, she tried to sort out which parts were nightmares and which were real. She concluded optimistically that Whistler, any memory of him, must've been a nightmare. Rolling onto her back, she managed to sit up with only limited difficulty, but was instantly sorry she had when her skin began to itch. "Will?" she whispered hopefully.
"What?" Willow replied sleepily.
"Nothing... Must be this stupid sweater," Buffy remarked, pulling the offensive garment over her head. She stretched as she added, "Sleeping in angora, so not a good idea." Throwing her legs over the side of the bed, she unfastened her jeans. Standing stationary for a moment while she shed the rest of her clothing, she balled up the two piles in either hand to take to the proper receptacles. "Shower," she said with a yawn, still annoyed by the itching.
Dozing in and out of sleep, Willow shot out of bed when she heard Buffy scream. It was all she could manage to not land on her face when her legs tangled in the skirt she still had on from the day prior. "Coming... Don't wig," she squeaked as she moved quickly to the bathroom.
"Don't wig?" Buffy sniped as she met her witch's gaze. "Okay so here's me not wigging," she added sarcastically, though her expression was all about the panic.
"Since when do vampire's get sunburns? Like, the lasting kind? I mean yeah, flash burns, but—" Willow asked pensively.
"Since never... Like, I've never had sunburn, even as a human. Is that what this is?" Buffy queried, appearing somewhat less distressed until she thought about it.
Willow shrugged. Watching as her partner's anxiety level rose again, she offered a soothing, "Sure looks like it to me." Unbuttoning her blouse a little more just to check, she found her normal lightly freckled skin. "With my complexion, I've had lots of experience. Take your shower." Raising an eyebrow, she went to respond to the knock at the door.
Doing her best to not appear to relieved or worried, Faith snarked, "Someone killin' a cat in there?" as Willow opened the door a crack.
"No, no cats," Willow confirmed as reassuringly as she could manage given that she had no idea what was going on either.
"B. gonna be alright?" Faith asked, looking concerned this time, despite herself.
Willow shrugged again still as clueless as before. "Your guess is as good as mine," she replied frankly. Adding seconds later, "She has what looks like a sunburn," she tried not to snicker at the incredulous look on the slayer's face. "You might mention it discretely to Giles. Maybe he'll have a clue."
"Okay...on it. He's down there being research guy, anyway. No reason I can see, but whatever... At least this'll give him somethin' real to work on," Faith commented dryly, turning to make her way down the hall as the witch shut the door.
Willow walked over to the couch, flopping down grumpily. We needed more complicated. Like this hasn't been enough of a nightmare. Couldn't have happened to nicer people, she reminded herself. Yeah, so, we deserve it, but— Okay, so, total denial. No buts... We had a little drama coming. Reaching over, she flipped on the light on the end table. As the light came on she blinked at the pile of throwing knives. I just put these away. And where'd this come from? She picked up the tiny silver bottle and opened it out of sheer curiosity. Pouring the contents into her hand, she smirked.
"Whatcha got, Will?" Buffy asked as she emerged from the bathroom wearing a robe.
Willow held her hand out, trying to stifle the comments that immediately came to mind. She looks like a lobster.
Buffy made her way over to her witch. Without thinking, she said, "Take the red pill."
"Huh?" Willow gasped, appearing perplexed. "Why would I do that?"
Raising an eyebrow, Buffy asked, "You've seen the movie, right?"
"Of course, but how do you know it's even for me?" Willow queried thoughtfully, staring at the pills in her hand.
Kneeing in front of her witch, Buffy queried, "Want the long version or are you just gonna trust me?"
"I totally trust you. It's Whistler that makes me nervous," Willow replied frankly. "I wasn't dreaming was I?"
"Not unless we're sharing nightmares," Buffy confirmed. Picking up the blue pill, she dropped it into the bottle. "I've been doing this thing lately where I equate this whole wacky adventure to the Matrix. 'Shoulda taken the blue pill.' It seemed a good metaphor. I even thought about going back down the rabbit hole last night when we went through the trap door. Trust me...the Powers have a sense of humor. Look around."
"And Whistler said he'd talk to them about 'perma-souling your little'—" Willow added pensively.
"Now you're firming up," Buffy snarked, shooting her witch a wry grin.
Willow shrugged as she popped the pill into her mouth and swallowed hard. Getting up, she made her way to the bathroom to chase the pill with a cup of water. About half way there, she dropped to her knees in agony. The need to scream finally won out over not wanting to scare the rest of the house again.
Jumping to her feet, Buffy ran to Willow's side. She wasn't the least bit surprised by the aura of brilliant white light that surrounded her witch. "I should've warned you. Not much fun," she offered apologetically as she helped her partner up.
Breathing hard despite herself, Willow clung to Buffy's hand. "Gifts from the Powers—I'm thinking warning labels," she remarked snidely.
"You and me both," Buffy confirmed. Halting mid-thought to look at her red flaking skin, she added, "We still haven't figured this. Is it some rare form of vampire eczema? Think I should call a monster doctor?"
"Still looks like sunburn, but the peeling should be at least a day off. Maybe it's the slayer-vamp healing?" Willow observed, moving to the door to answer it again.
"More cats?" Faith asked unable to contain her amusement any longer. When she saw Willow was okay, she started to giggle.
Willow smirked. "Yup, Faith... We got half-a-dozen left to kill so just ignore us, 'kay?" Closing the door as the slayer turned to leave, she queried, "So, next time we see Whistler?"
"He's dead," Buffy confirmed without moment's hesitation as she peeled a large sheet of skin off her shoulder.
Stifling a snicker at Buffy's efforts to exfoliate, Willow replied, "I like the way you think," as she headed into the bathroom to shower.
"Annoying little prick," Buffy grumbled softly to herself. Taking a seat on the couch, she started to scale the dead skin off her legs. I used a loofa. What's the deal with this?
After her shower, Willow exited the bathroom carrying two large towels and a trashcan. Spreading the towels out on the bed, she motioned Buffy to her. "You're so gonna owe me for this," she threatened as she watched her partner lay down. Starting to patiently peel the sheets of dead skin off, noticed that the surface left behind was pink like a newborn's but, while it sat, it turned red as though it were sunburned. By the time she worked her way down to Buffy's heels, her upper back was angry and red. "That's weird," she commented matter-of-factly.
"Not the most reassuring thing you could say," Buffy remarked sarcastically as she flipped over.
"Just guessing, but I think we'll be going back," Willow said simply. It's weird as hell that even the scars seem to be burnt. They should stand out lighter.
Buffy rolled her eyes, and growled in a low dangerous voice, "I'm so gonna hunt that annoying little sleaze-ball down." It was taking most of her patience to lie still, and the added annoyance of being told there was no end in sight made her noticeably more irritable.
When it was time for her to flip again, Buffy snarled audibly, sounding very much like a large angry cat, or so Willow thought. Sorta cool... Wonder if I can do that? Sure enough...she looks like a lobster again. Sighing deeply, the witch continued the process. She was just beginning to consider how to best take this out on her partner and/or Whistler when it occurred to her that some of the finest scars had vanished in the peel. Whistler said he got them to give something up for her. I wonder if this is— Would he ask? How would he even know? 'Kay, so, that last question was pretty creepy. If anything could—not looking like a monster would go a long way toward the not acting like a monster. Is Whistler really that smart?
A couple more cycles left Buffy so annoyed she was having trouble not fidgeting. "This itches like crazy, Will. Aren't you done?" she said in a tone that dripped with saccharine from trying way too hard to be nice.
Meeting her partner's gaze, Willow confirmed, "Not enjoying this either, Buffy."
"Buying that," Buffy snarked as her witch exfoliated her chest.
Willow smirked. "'Kay so... There are perks," she teased playfully. "If I didn't have every square millimeter of your body memorized before now...pretty much—"
"I'll have to quiz you later," Buffy remarked dryly.
Glancing up to make eye contact again, Willow prompted, "You should look."
At first Buffy was skeptical as she peered down at her chest, but then it became clear to her. "They're fading?" she queried in shocked disbelief.
Smiling warmly, Willow patiently persevered in her task as she confirmed, "Think so. The smaller ones are totally gone."
"How?" Buffy asked unable to wring the doubt from her voice.
Willow shrugged slightly as she speculated, "Best guess...Whistler. So not questioning it. Just gonna keep peeling and hope there's an end."
"An end would be good," Buffy responded dryly.
Several hours, as many cigarettes, a couple glasses of blood, and one trip to empty the trash can later; Willow's mood had grown slightly more fragile, while Buffy was happier than she'd been in a very long time.
Buffy looked at the creases etched in her witch's forehead. "I'm sorry, Will," she offered sincerely. "You know I'm sure this'll still be here tomorrow if you wanna move on."
"No, it's actually getting better. The patches have gotten lots smaller," Willow replied looking determined. Running her fingers gently over the right side of Buffy's abdomen, she queried, "How's it feel?"
Considering how to answer for a moment, Buffy opted for the truth. "Still a little weird. Could just be—not used to it."
Willow's face lit up as she commented, "It looks beautiful."
"I could go take another shower," Buffy suggested, trying to think of a way to speed the process.
"No. Feel this," Willow replied, guiding her partners hand to a section of freshly peeled skin. "It's really delicate, like a baby's. I'm afraid you'll— This is best."
As Buffy absently ran her fingers over the tender new skin the expression of her face warmed, "You think there's a time limit on the magic? Like it'll run out?" she asked pensively.
When she finished removing the layer from Buffy's stomach, she motioned for her to turn over. As she began to strip another layer off her partner's shoulders, Willow reflected in a supple voice, "I dunno. It's impossible to speculate unless you want to test. Thinking probably not... Thing is, when I stop, it stops. It's one layer at a time. I remove the old and the next layer forms. There's no quick way. And it's too important to— Anyway...I'd go through—" she sighed, "Being able to actually touch you—I mean, like really—no price is too high."
Buffy fell silent. Not only was Willow right, she knew from experience that any further comment would simply end in her being reminded just how right her witch was. Stubborn...but in that annoying, sort-of-endearing way you can't really get mad at. The truly weird thing is that I actually feel bad. Days ago, literally, I would've ordered her to do this. And weirder still, she wouldn't have thought twice about it. It's not her that's really changing, it's me. I guess you can domesticate the monster. Looks like you can even peel it away.
Turning her head to face the window, Buffy looked at the reflection of the room in the glass. We're not even here. I still haven't gotten used to that in all these years. You'd think— I guess you can't strip away the entire monster. Seems like you can come pretty close...
As Willow finished clearing the layer of skin, she ran her hands over the surface of Buffy's back to clear the small fragments left behind. A smile broke out the witch's face as her partner gasped. It wasn't a shocked prickly gasp. Unable to help herself, she ran her hands down the curve of Buffy's body, from shoulders to thighs, watching the reaction.
Buffy trembled at under the affect of the touch, reflexively breathing in short gasps. Turning over, she looked at Willow trying to assess the expression that met her. Impish... She looks like she's about to cause trouble.
"Your back's almost done," Willow remarked in a deceptively detached voice despite the lingering grin.
Placing a hand between her breasts, Buffy caressed her skin. No scars remained and, after some time to acclimate to the sensation, she found it extremely pleasant. If the look's any kinda clue—and yeah...normally are—I'm in trouble. Though, trouble? Not so much. I've heard more than I ever cared to about Willow's sexploits, but in all these years I never once heard her talk about love making. Past two times: she was talking about that and me, plain and simple.
Buffy was amazed when Willow motioned for her to flip so soon. Propping herself up on her elbows, she looked at her stomach. There were just a few faint lines remaining. She gasped again. This time is was pure shock that fueled the reaction. Rolling over on her stomach, she fell silently back into her musings. Part of me is terrified by this, the inevitable. I've got no doubt that it will happen tonight. No clue what it'll be like, or why my body needs it. It seems so totally primitive. It's like the need for blood...to conquer, to control, to devour... The monster... The hands moved down her back again and Buffy felt herself groan involuntarily.
A tingle ran down Willow spine. She could smell the heat of Buffy's arousal. It took all her willpower to not run her hands back up her partner's inner thighs.
When Buffy rolled over instead of lying patiently, she rose. Taking her witch into her arms, she remarked, "Close enough," stifling the protest with a hungry kiss.
Willow allowed herself to yield to the seduction of the kiss. Her lips parted as her lover demanded access. Lips caressed; tongues circled and danced; and, unaware of the actions of her partner, she soon felt the robe she was wearing slide off her shoulders and trail down her back. The sensation sent a shiver down her spine and she trembled automatically. The kiss continued and she became vaguely aware she was moving from her seat on the edge of the bed.
Breaking the kiss, Buffy lay her witch gently out on the bed. Motioning her over to the center, she stripped the towels and robe off the surface, casting them onto the floor.
Willow studied her lover as she joined her. It disturbed her that the eyes that met hers were bright golden, but she dismissed it, determined to enjoy the touch.
Skin brushed skin as Buffy slid on top of her witch, pinning her to the bed. The sensation was intoxicating. For years she had recoiled from contact; now, it felt so good she was almost lost in it. Reclaiming Willow in the magic of the kiss, she began to gently caress her body. The absent movements of unguided hands became intentional as the heat between them grew. Trailing her hand down Willow's stomach, she paused to enjoy the texture of the soft thatch of copper curls. A throaty gasp passed her lover's lips as her hand dipped lower disrupting the kiss. Her eyes locked with her mate's as she explored the moist, silky skin. It felt like the petals of a flower and, while there was no expertise to the touch, she found herself smiling at the effect it had.
A low growl escaped her lips as Willow felt her lover slip inside; she tilted her hips to press the fingers to deeper into her core. Taking Buffy's shoulders in her hands, she gently caressed the length of her back. The soft moan that escaped her mate caused her to smile mischievously as she dug her fingers into her the soft flesh of her ass. Raising her thigh to put pressure against her lover's sex, she began to set a firm, slow cadence, capturing her in a lingering, passionate kiss.
Buffy broke the kiss out of sheer desperation. A low guttural moan escaped her when her lover ground her thigh into her center. She was helplessly under Willow's control. Her body began to tremble when she felt her witch arch underneath her. The languid tempo was gradually increasing, becoming more urgent, hungrier; she focused her attention on the hand that seemed hopelessly trapped by their love making. Just the sensation the moist, supple skin moving against her fingertips was dizzying. The first wave of raw pleasure passed through her, tearing her mind away from its focus. She cried out, uncertain if she had said a coherent word or if it was just an incomprehensible moan. As the second wave washed over her, she felt the muscles of her lover's sex clench, compressing her fingers. Fighting for control, she peered into Willow's eyes.
As their bodies fell silent, Willow captured her lover in a tender loving kiss. Releasing her hold, she allowed Buffy to reclaim her hand. Succumbing to the urge to laugh as she watched her mate clench her fingers into a fist, then shake the entire arm out. She couldn't resist taking the hand and gently suckling the fingers clean. Gazing deeply into her lover's now green eyes, she massaged the palm of her hand as she held it.
The sensation of Willow's tongue caressing her finger tips made Buffy shudder. There was something deeply erotic about the way it looked and the sensation of her touch. She instantly felt herself flood with desire. Watching her lover run her finger over her lips, she caught herself not just breathing, but gasping.
Willow couldn't resist teasing just a little more. Gently catching a finger between her teeth, she ran her tongue over the tip, ending the encounter with a gentle kiss. Tactile...makes sense...it's what she's had for most of her adult life. "Do you trust me, Buffy?" she asked in a husky voice.
Rolling onto her stomach, Buffy reached for her cigarettes and lighter. "Yeah, Will. Why?" Buffy replied matter-of-factly. Lighting a smoke, she turned back and looked expectantly at her witch.
"'Cause I really want to make love to you," Willow answered in a soft silky voice. Snagging the cigarette, she took a short drag and handed it back.
Taking a sharp pull off her smoke, Buffy crinkled her brows appearing perplexed. "What was that? Besides...umm... Well, wow..."
"A good start," Willow responded frankly. Smiling wolfishly to punctuate, she added, "I'll be back in a few minutes." Sliding to the edge of the bed, she stood and retrieved her robe, making her way to the door as she put it on.
Buffy raised an eyebrow as she watched her witch leave the room. "Oh boy... And I call myself the monster," she mumbled. Taking another drag off her cigarette, she then flipped the ash into the ashtray. Propping herself up on the pillows, she gazed down at her stomach. It was almost unbelievable that what she saw was her. She started to inattentively peel the layer of dead skin from the few remaining patches while she finished her cigarette. Looks like that may be the last of it. Pretty much amazing. I think the PTBs are gonna go on the Christmas card list. Wonder if they have a mailing address or—? Oh Jeeze...I may have reason to like Whistler. If that's not cause for some serious soul searching...
Willow returned to the room with a cocktail for Buffy and a glass of wine for herself. Placing the wine on the nightstand, she passed off the drink and removed her robe. "Sorta thought you looked like you could use that," she offered, sitting on the edge of the bed next to her partner.
Taking a healthy gulp off her drink, Buffy confirmed, "Definitely can't hurt."
Willow sipped her wine and offered in a soothing tone, "If you're worried or upset, we can stop. I don't want you to feel pressured into anything. And I want you to be comfortable saying 'stop' to me if something upsets you."
Taking another sip of her drink, Buffy nodded.
Meeting her lover's gaze, Willow took a lingering sip from her glass, breathing in the fragrance of the wine. "Finish your drink and, if you're willing, lay down in the center of the bed. If not, curl up and we'll go to sleep. Your choice," she instructed.
Buffy finished her cocktail quickly, giving the alcohol a moment to work the minor amount of magic it would. I could drink along side a human—large male—and he'd be in a coma before I got a buzz. Vampires aren't cheap dates. Dunno why I'm doing this, but— She even gave me an easy out. Curious, insane, stupid...pick one. Sliding over to the middle of the bed, she grabbed a pillow off the pile and tucked it behind her head.
Good girl, Willow considered as she took another sip of her wine. She's curious. I need to be really careful. There's a whole list of don'ts. Placing her wineglass on the nightstand, she moved to join her partner. The kiss started soft and tender, lips brushing gently; she let her lover set the pace. They soon turned hungry and passionate, Buffy pressed against her, insistent the kiss deepen. Hands trailed across skin, seemingly of their own volition. Willow broke away from the kiss. Turning her attention to her lover's neck, she traced a line down the supple skin: kissing, nibbling, and, as Buffy responded with a soft groan, biting. Just guessing here, but—being fed on, over the course of days, from open wounds—bet she's still majorly 'phobic about her torso... So, skipping forward—
Willow released her hold and positioned herself between her lover's legs, sitting upright. "Don't rip the headboard off the bed," she whispered. Sliding down between Buffy's thighs, she pressed them flat against the bed. Settling into place, she ran her tongue the length of her mate's center. The bed shook and she found herself stifling a snicker as a result. Told her not to break the bed, she reflected wryly as she focused her attention on a single point. Gently drawling the engorged nub between her lips, she caressed it with the tip of her tongue. A low moan escaped her lover, trailing off into a growl as the bed shuddered ominously. Pressing back any fear she had of the inevitable, she centered her intent on the single point. The flavor and smell played at her senses as she massaged the tiny bit of flesh.
Buffy was blinded by a mix of pleasure and passion. Her body seemed to have a mind of its own, trembling violently one moment, then locking into a rigid arch the next. She shut her eyes tightly, gripping the headboard with all her might. Flashes of color and light splashed at what should've been darkness.
Willow ran her tongue down her lover's sex. Lingering to savor the flavor and smell, she dipped her tongue inside. A low guttural growl broke the silence of the room, followed by sharp, breathy pants. Returning to her focus, she drew the tiny nub back into her mouth, pressing harder this time. The bed shuddered ominously in response. Threading her arms under Buffy's thighs, she placed her hands on her lover's stomach and began to caress the soft flesh.
Shuddering under the ministrations of her lover, Buffy gasped as a wave of pleasure caused her body to arch violently. Her vision clouded as what felt like an explosion on sensation rocked her form. An aching need for more washed over her as she lay shuddering. She pressed into Willow demanding increased pressure and contact.
Clamping down hard on the tiny nerve bundle, Willow flicked her tongue against it and her lover's body tensed, trembling under the strain. Lacing her right hand from under Buffy's thigh, she brought it down. Releasing her hold, she felt her mate settle. There was almost a sense of disappointment to the pause. She listened as her partner panted and sighed. Tracing the length of her lover's sex with her fingers, she relished the flood for a moment.
Willow snapped her attention back when Buffy groaned, "Oh god," in a low feral voice. The bed shook again when she tensed. As her lover entered her slightly below where she expected, Buffy's body seemed systematically leave her control. Arching violently, she reflexively grabbed for the headboard. She wanted desperately to make a snarky comment about crappy aim, but the thoughts tangled in the flood of sensations. After mere seconds of delicate massage, she was pretty certain Willow was right where she intended to be. The waves of pleasure seemed to wash over her for minutes, not seconds. It felt like they might last forever. She cried out while her body shuddered and wracked in a cycle that left her pleading for more and, as the ache built, another wave would crash down.
When her lover released her hold, Buffy crumpled, curling into a ball on her side. Every nerve ending was alive with sensation. The simplest touch seemed to echo with profound hypersensitivity.
Sliding to the edge of the bed, Willow stood up a little too quickly and nearly fell. Ow! Her legs, long forgotten, were aching from the mistreatment. Carefully testing again, she took a tentative step. Once the threat had past, and she felt she actually owned knees again, she made her way to the bathroom to wash up. On her return, she lit a cigarette and took a sip of wine. Passing the cigarette and ashtray to Buffy, she slipped into bed under the covers.
With some effort and assistance, Buffy managed to crawl under the covers, tucking up tight to her witch. "Can I have a drink?" she asked in a dry, gravely voice.
Willow silently passed her glass, helping to steady as Buffy took a drink.
Buffy placed the ashtray on her hip, steadying it with one hand as she silently smoked her cigarette. There should be something profound to say. Nothing...color bars...static...off the air...
Carefully sitting up, Willow took another sip of wine. Returning the wineglass, she cuddled up to her lover and closed her eyes.
Crushing her cigarette out, Buffy reached over to place the ashtray on her bedside table. Switching the light out, she returned to Willow's side. Curling up snuggly against her, she closed her eyes and drifted instantly off to sleep.
***********
Dreamily drifting into consciousness, Buffy slowly opened her eyes, and smiled brightly as Willow met her gaze. "Watching me sleep?" she asked groggily.
"Yeah... I mean, I guess...thinking mostly," Willow replied honestly. Unweaving her arms and legs from the tangle, she lay flat and stretched.
Buffy slid over and curled up against her witch's side. "What about?"
Willow furrowed her brow as she remarked pensively, "Mostly 'bout us. The craziness of the past couple weeks—that stuff."
"Self-reflection," Buffy offered. Smirking amusedly as she added, aloud this time, "Morning of day fourteen and I remember pretty much everything last night. Disturbing pattern may be over. Cross your fingers."
Willow simply gave her partner a curious gaze in response.
Noting the expression, Buffy asked, "Which part?"
"Not any single part... Well, 'kay, self-reflection?" Willow commented, appearing extremely amused.
A supple grin played at Buffy's features as she replied, "Yeah...y'know, when you look at the train wreck that's unfortunately your life, and you try to make sense of it."
"Just never saw you as so much for the soul-searching. More the scheming, evil-mastermind type... Guess now you got one," Willow teased, offering her partner a playful smile.
Buffy gave her witch a scathing glare, breaking seconds later into a warm smile as she winked. "Yeah, well... I'll try not to forget my roots, may still have a little 'mastermind' left in me. Not so much with the evil. Will you settle for devious?"
"Devious could work," Willow replied. Snickering softly for a moment then drawing serious as she redirected, "You okay with last night?"
Buffy let out a sarcastic, breathy laugh. Smirking softy before she commented, "Well let's see... Which part? The divinely engineered chemical peel, the perma-souling, or the mind-blowing orgasms? Pretty much okay with it. I mean, yeah...weird night, but I could use more of that sorta weird."
Willow's face lit up as she asked cheerfully, "Really?" Glancing thoughtfully at her partner's face, she added, "I was afraid I'd wig you out. It was pretty scary for me. Like 'revisiting every test I'd ever taken' sorta scary."
"No, not wigged. Though, there was—but what with the—I sorta got interrupted mid-wig," Buffy replied honestly.
Her mood suddenly turning very sober, Willow offered, "Wanna know why? It may upset you, but—"
Considering what her witch said for a moment, Buffy replied, "Sure, but what did you mean 'test'? I was like a test?" trying not to look upset.
Rolling over to face her lover, Willow tried to answer both questions honestly, "Yeah...sorta, but only 'cause I didn't want to hurt or scare you. I mean, your history... Anyway, it was really hard for me. 'Cause, well...it was—there were only a couple of people—and with the badness... What they both did—kinda the same...or I can guess 'cause of the one—her goals—the 'not a virgin anymore'... Understand what that means? It's a pretty specific thing." She paused to allow her partner to respond.
Buffy was a little confused by the path the conversation was taking, but she played along, and did her best to remain calm. Talking about Darla is so not what I had in mind. "Yeah. I mean, we all had the sex-ed class, right? You mean—?"
Willow remained silent for a moment, trying to gauge the expression on Buffy's face. I started it...gotta finish it now. "She wanted to tear the hymen, spoil the virgin. Suggests some specific actions—pretty much ruthless and nasty in an 'old school' kinda way, and no doubt unpleasant without any of the—" she sighed softly, "Then there's the other. He was all about himself. He could've cared less if any of the women under his spell ever felt anything." Snickering bitterly, she concluded, "Again, same thing really... I can only imagine how horrible it was."
"And?" Buffy prompted, appearing anxious for the conversation to be over.
"And simple... I wanted to avoid doing anything that would make you remember any of that. So I went for something a little unconventional. I wanted you to feel, to enjoy, to know it was about you, and well...sorry for the ickyness, but I kinda think honesty's best," Willow replied. Scanning her partner's face she was relieved to see her relax. "Anyway, next time we'll try something different."
Raising an eyebrow, Buffy asked, "Different?"
"Oh yeah..." Willow replied, brandishing an evil grin.
Sighing so loudly it sounded almost like a hiss, Buffy stated matter-of-factly, "'Kay, well...shower and coffee for me." Rolling out of bed, she added, "Uh-boy... How much different?"
Willow rose to join in the shower and coffee, hitting the button to open the drapes as she crossed the room, she responded, "Lots."
***********
Faith looked up from her magazine and watched the two vampires enter the kitchen. Keeping her peace until she saw that Buffy had taken a sip of coffee, she asked, "You two get all those cats killed?" raising an eyebrow and grinning wryly to punctuate. B. looks way different. Must be the gettin' laid... Chick was seriously intense. A tank top and sweats, though? Almost human—way she moves is still all wrong. Too graceful—I'd have her down for a vamp inside ten seconds on the street.
"All dead, nasty little bastards," Willow confirmed, returning the smirk as she leaned back against the counter.
"See you got the clothing figured," Buffy remarked as she moved to the table to join the slayer. Tank top and sweats seem the theme today, Buffy mused as she looked Faith over.
Looking up again from her magazine, Faith dropped the leg to the ground that was clutched to her chest, and reclined back casually. "Yeah...friend helped me out," she offered with a wink. Yeah... Really different... That scar I saw— Not gonna ask, but something really big went down last night. Taking a sip of her coffee, she asked, "Anything on for today?"
Raising her cup in preparation to take a sip, Buffy replied frankly, "Nada... Figured, I'd take a shot at living. See how it goes."
Faith placed her cup on the table, and smiled warmly at the vampire. "Sounds like a helluva plan, B."