Fic: The Wonderland Subject (43/?)
CHAPTER FORTY TWO
Yup. She was still naked.
Willow. Naked. With touching of parts against other parts. This was the kind of thing that happened never. Willow wasn’t a naked-touchy-friend. She was a friend. She was a friend. She was a friend.
He kept repeating it to himself just in case he forgot. It would be easy to forget, because there was a naked woman on top of him, and naked women tended to make him forget things. Like how to think. Or do anything. Or say anything.
It was already well past morning. Sunlight was streaming into the room, providing Xander with more than enough light to see her. Her being Willow. Willow being naked. Naked on Xander.
There really was no way this was ending well. He knew that. Someone was going to come knocking on that door any minute now. If the Cleveland hellmouth had even half the power that the Primary Hellmouth had once had, then it would be Buffy knocking on the door. Possibly Kennedy. He wasn’t sure which one would mess things up worse. Buffy would probably close the door and then giggle about it for ages, but there would also be a whole well-this-changes-unspoken-things vibe with her.
Kennedy would probably just kick his ass.
Willow moaned quietly in her sleep and her arms held him more tightly. Xander stifled a groan and stared up at the ceiling. Did she have to do the whole clingy thing? Was she trying to murder him?
That was it. She was trying to murder him. Oh, it was diabolical. She was going to kill him by making his brain melt like three different kinds of cheese. They would find him in bed with brains leaking out of his ears and they would say, “Poor Xander. We never knew his brain was made of gouda, swiss, and mozzarella.”
Someone was going to knock on that door. He just knew it. Maybe it would be Giles. Then there would be stammering, stuttering, stummering, and stattering. Xander would try to explain that no, this wasn’t what it looked like. She was sick! Yeah, she was sick! And she had to sleep naked on him because that made her un-sick.
Oh yeah. Everyone was going to believe that.
He wasn’t even sure how she’d gotten sick in the first place. Something about magic. So why did that make him Mr. Naked Pillow?
There were people up and moving around outside. He could hear people talking in the kitchen. Someone else was working out in the gym. Every once in a while he could hear Jean Grey squealing or laughing.
The house was full of superheroes, and Xander Harris was sleeping with a naked Willow.
“Eighteen-year-old-me is so jealous right now,” Xander whispered.
The sound made Willow nuzzle against him. She moaned quietly and then turned her head up towards him. Her eyes fluttered open.
“Mmm,” she said, smacking her lips a few times. Her eyes blinked rapidly in the morning light and then settled on him. They were unfocused and the lids drooped heavily. “Morning.”
He cleared his throat before speaking. When he did speak, his voice was higher than he would have liked. “Hi.”
Her brow furrowed. She blinked a few times and then her eyes opened a little wider. Her pupils dilated and then contracted.
“Xander?” she gasped. Then she looked down between them. Her breasts were pressed against his chest. His bare chest. Her face flushed bright red and she looked back up at his face. “Xander!?”
She pushed herself away from him, and for one brief, horrifying moment of glory, Willow Rosenberg’s topless chest was mere inches away from his eyes. He stared at it. Willow stared at him.
Then she quickly covered her chest with one arm and flailed the other one as she tried to get off of him. Her legs were still entangled with his own, so she fell awkwardly against the bed. She squealed and then grabbed the sheets, twisting them around her body as she rolled off the bed, thumped onto the floor, and then quickly got up to her feet.
“What’s going on!?” she demanded. “Why am I naked! Why are you naked? Why am I naked?”
He could hear her heart thumping faster than he thought a heart could go. Her chest was rising and falling as she breathed quick and shallow. Color flushed her cheeks. Xander quickly slid out of bed and grabbed his discarded pants, hopping into them as he went.
“I don’t know,” he said as he pulled them up to his waist. He buttoned the fly and then looked to her. She was wrapped in the sheet. It was a thin sheet. Xander swallowed nervously and then looked away from her. “It was your idea! You were sick, o-or something.”
“No,” Willow said in a breathy, panicked voice. “No, no I’m not sick. I-I used the wrong magic and it backfired. I was trying to purge it, b-but it was too strong and it hurt too much. And then you...”
Xander looked back to her as she trailed off, expecting to see a look of realization on her face. Instead, her eyes were partly rolled back into her head and her jaw was slack. Her arms dropped to her side and she moaned wordlessly as the sheet fell to her feet. Then she began to pitch forward, slumping towards the floor.
He closed the distance between them in a heartbeat and caught her before she fell face-first against the floor. “Willow!”
Cradling her in his arms, Xander put one hand against her forehead. It was hot again. She shook slightly.
“Willow, what’s going on?” he whispered, hugging her body to him. His chest was still bare, and her skin felt cold against him. Cold skin, hot head. He didn’t like that.
“I’m okay,” Willow said in a moaning voice. She sounded terrible. Her arms wrapped around his chest and she hugged him tightly. Her shaking ceased and she took slow, careful breaths. “I thought I was done. I shouldn’t have gotten up so fast.”
“Done with what?” Xander asked. He hugged her back, his concern outweighing his sense of propriety.
“Yesterday when we were fighting Brute I used a spell. A dark spell. It backfired on me and it corrupted all my magic. I had to go into a kind of trance while I slept. I’ve done it before. I did it after the first Slayer attack.” She took a slow inward breath and then let it out, then squeezed him again before she spoke. “It lets me release magical energy and absorb fresh energy, or just absorb fresh energy if I’ve used too much.”
“Oh. What’s that mean?”
“We’re on a hellmouth,” she said. “I can’t draw in too much energy too quickly, so that means I can’t let it out too quickly either. Only the corruption is eating away at me the longer its in me. It’s like the flu and the world’s worst hangover combined. I thought I could bear it while I let it out, but...”
She whimpered and squeezed him again, pressing her face against his cheek. She clutched at him with both arms, holding him as tightly as she could.
“It hurts,” she said into his ear. “But you make it not hurt so much.”
“I do? Why?”
“I have no idea,” she whispered. “You just do. When I touch you the corruption doesn’t feel so bad. It’s there, but I can tolerate it.”
“Maybe cause of my healing factor?” Xander suggested. “Maybe you’re like, sharing it or something like that?”
“Maybe,” she whispered.
They remained that way for a few moments. Her, nude with the sheet pooled around her legs, and Xander in just his pants. Somehow the desperate way in which she clung to him no longer felt quite so confusing. She was sick. He was helping her. That was familiar territory.
“Promise me you won’t ever tell this to Kennedy,” Willow said.
“I was going to make you promise the same thing,” he said jokingly. It felt like he could actually hear her smiling. This time, he hugged her tighter before she could do the same to him. “Do you feel awful right now?”
“Not awful. Just not good,” she admitted. “Better than last night, though. I-I think I can handle it on my own now. A lot of the corruption is gone. I can probably get through the rest by myself.”
“Will, you almost passed out a second ago.”
“I-I got up too fast. And I wasn’t ready. Last night was like a blur after I fell asleep. I was in a partial-trance state and I felt like I was going to di-- like I was going to be sick. I forgot, that’s all. I’ll be okay. I just need to lie down for a few more hours.”
“You’re sure?”
She nodded against him. “I’ll be okay, Xander. I can handle it. I’ve purged corrupted magic before.”
He frowned. “That’s not something to be happy about. I thought you weren’t getting all corrupty anymore. That black vein stuff can’t be good for you.”
“It’s not black veiny stuff,” she said in an slightly exasperated tone. “It’s just corrupted magic. It’s complicated.”
“Uh huh.”
“It is!”
“So complicated that it leads to naked hugs?”
She growled into his ear and then shoved him away with, muttering, “Xander!”
He turned away as she picked the sheet up, wrapping it around her body again. Her heart began to thump faster again, and when he looked back she was shaking once more. She sat on the edge of the bed and hunched over, the sheets pulled tightly around her body like a cloak.
“Hey,” he said in a concerned tone. “We can do hugs, if you need to. I like Willow hugs.”
“No,” she said, teeth gritting together. “It’s not so bad now. I can handle it.”
“But--”
“Just go, Xander.”
He stared at her for a long moment. Her whole body was shaking and the sweat was beading against her brow again. Her eyes stared back at him. There was no arguing with that face.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes,” she gasped.
“But I c--”
“Go away, Xander!”
After her outburst, she immediately groaned and fell onto her side against the bed. She curled up into the fetal position and began to breathe heavily. Instead of leaving, he went to her, putting his hand against her face. At first she pressed her face against him, but then she drew back, an angry expression on her face.
“Xander,” she said in a strained voice. “Go away. I mean it. Go.”
“But you’re sick.”
“It’s not as bad as it was,” she said, eyes squeezed tightly shut. “I’ll be fine in a few hours. Just go. Please, Xander. Just go away.”
He didn’t go right away. For a few moments he remained where he was, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring at her. Willow shook and shivered violently. Her heart was racing.
But then her eyes slid open and glared at him. She mouthed silently, “Go.”
So he went. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head, and then headed for the door. Just before leaving he turned back to her.
“Is this going to be a thing?” he asked.
“We’ll talk about it later,” she said, voice trembling. “Go. Away.”
With one final look of concern, he opened the door partway, squeezed himself through it, and quickly slammed it shut. Exhaling a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, Xander placed his forehead against the door.
“Ah, Xander. Good. You’re awake.”
Xander stood bolt upright and spun around, blocking the door. “What? What? Of course I’m awake! Why wouldn’t I be?”
Giles raised an eyebrow at him. He was bruised and battered. There were a few stitches over his right eye and two of his fingers were taped and splinted together. Still, he looked crisp, clean, and professional.
“It was a trying night,” Giles said. “You were stabbed in the heart. That’s the kind of thing that warrants sleeping in, I’d say.”
“Sleeping in who?” Xander said demandingly. “Just what are you getting at? A guy is allowed to sleep, you know. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“What?”
Xander blinked. “What?”
“Xander, are you all right?” He reached out and touched Xander’s forehead with the palm of his hand. “Not feeling feverish or dizzy, are you?”
“I’m not sick, if that’s what you’re asking,” Xander said quickly. “I’m fine. Everyone’s fine. Nobody’s sick and everyone’s fine.”
Giles stared at him for a long moment. “Perhaps you ought to see Doctor Westin, just to be sure. And I’d like to have Willow examine you with a second-sight again. Just to make sure there are no ill-effects from your recent brush with death.”
“Willow?” Xander said, voice cracking.
“Yes. Willow. It will have to be later, unfortunately. I’m sure she’s still recuperating from last night.”
“Last night?”
Giles frowned at him again. Then the look of confusion turned into one of understanding. “Ah, yes. Of course. You were still recovering when you arrived. I assumed Willow would have told you--”
“She didn’t tell me anything,” Xander said quickly. “I mean, she told me some stuff, b-but nothing, you know. Weird or anything. Just normal stuff.” What was a normal thing? “She has new shoes. R-red ones.”
“Yes, well. Last night she performed some particularly potent dark magicks, and I have reason to believe they rebounded on her with some strength. She’ll likely be in a recuperative trance for most of the day. It’s not the first time, nor do I expect it will be the last time.”
Xander swallowed the lump in his throat. “Oh.”
Giles motioned for Xander to walk with him, so he did, grateful to get away from his room and the incriminating redhead curled up in the middle of his bed, nude except for a thin white sheet wrapped around her body. They made their way down the hall, side by side.
“If you hadn’t already heard, Buffy and Dawn were picked up by Faith late last evening. They’re on a flight from L.A. as we speak and should be back within an hour or two.”
“Really? Buffy’s with Dawn?”
“Yes. Apparently she and that Logan person managed to infiltrate the bunker where they were holding her and rescue her.”
“Wow,” Xander whispered. “That’s good news.”
“Yes. Although from what Buffy told me, Dawn’s not in the best of shape. She may need mystical assistance to get over what was very likely a torturous experience at the hands of the Fearstone. Still, she’s out of his hands and back with us, so that’s good.”
“Yeah. Definitely.”
“Faith also insisted on returning with them,” Giles said. The inflection in his voice changed just slightly. He wasn’t as happy about this as Dawn’s recovery.
“That’s a bad thing?”
Giles shook his head. “I’m not sure. Faith’s been doing remarkably in Los Angeles. I don’t know that her presence here will offset her loss there. Ever since Angel’s death, it’s been one of the most potent focal points for demonic activity in the world. She’s needed there.”
“She’s needed here too,” Xander said. “We just got our butts kicked.”
“Yes, well. That’s true too. I suppose I’m just not looking forward to the added tension. Faith’s a remarkable Slayer.”
“But?”
“But she and Buffy tend to become competitive to the point of absurdity,” Giles admitted. “I’ve found it’s better when they’re separated by at least a few hundred miles. Otherwise good sense often gives way to childish competitions and chest thumping.”
Xander looked up wistfully as he imagined Buffy and Faith’s chests thumping. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”
Giles rolled his eyes. “We’ll see how you feel when you’re caught in the middle of it. I shall find myself needed elsewhere with remarkable frequency whenever such instances occur.”
“Okay, I get it. Slayer on Slayer action not as fun as it sounds.”
He remembered just as well as Giles did how those two got along. When they weren’t trying to kill each other they were trying to outdo each other. And when they weren’t trying to outdo each other, they were usually trying to kill each other.
“So what’s the plan?” Xander asked as they made their way down to the first floor. “Research party?”
“I think so. Andrew should be returning from Chicago later today. Apparently he purchased a book on ‘Piedras del Infierno’ from a friend of his on the internet and had to go pick it up in person.”
“A friend?” That was worrying. Shady internet friends who just happened to have books about the Stones of Hell?
“I was concerned as well, but Andrew assures me that he’s very highly regarded. Apparently everyone purchases from Craig Schlitz.”
Xander stopped. “Craig...Schlitz?”
“Yes. Do you know him?”
Xander did his very best to keep the grin off of his face. “You know what I like about you, Giles? You’re dependable. Like a rock. I always know where you stand.”
Giles blinked at him. “Oh. Well, um, thank you. I-I suppose.”
“But still,” Xander said, clapping him on the back as he began walking towards the kitchen again. “One of these days we have to get you onto the internet. You’d be amazed what you can get from Mr. Ebay. He makes Craig Schlitz look like an amateur. And don’t even get me started on the things you can get from the heart of the Amazon. I tell ya, it’s amazing!”
It was right around there that he started chuckling to himself, leaving Giles standing alone in the hallway with a very confused look upon his face.