Getting ready for bed used to be one of Willow's favorite parts of the day. Shedding her street clothes for her ridiculously comfortable pajamas. Washing away all the dirt and grime from her face and teeth, feeling clean and fresh and safe. Slipping beneath the soft, warm covers that smelt of lavender and linen. Relaxing into the cloud like pillows that covered the bed for her favorite part:
Watching Tara stretch and pop, slipping into one of her nightgowns and placing her jeans carefully in the hamper. Listening to her hum to herself when she pulls back the covers. Sighing as Tara lies down next to her, her face shiny and clean, her body smelling of the vanilla lotion that she liked to use. Smiling as actually going to sleep slips farther from her mind and seeing the same smile mirrored on her lover's face.
Now getting ready for bed had lost all its appeal. Now getting ready for bed meant stripping Tara down and changing her into an oversized T-shirt to sleep in and treating the stains of spilled soup on her sweater before it has a chance to set. Instead of the clean, fresh feeling associated with washing her face, she struggles with frustration as Tara squirms away from the wet washcloth as Willow tries to clean her face. Now Willow tucks those soft warm covers around Tara, carefully minding the cast on her arm, heart fluttering as she mumbles something that sounds almost like her Tara before she's gone again, lost in oblivion. Now Willow tucks her legs under herself in the cushioned chair she'd pulled next to the bed, shivering under the thin blanket she'd found in the closet, and sobbing at the look of complete innocence on her lover's face.