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Wired vixen: Hey look! Five years on and replies occur again!...wow. Haha thanks for the feedback Stace, glad you liked!
jixer: Wow I’m a big fan of your fics, so thanks for replying! I’m stoked you liked the fic : ) Thanks again doll
Title: Moments
Author: Gabbles
Rating: PG
Disclaimers: Joss Whedon and M.E and blah blah blah. *mutters*why you get to own something and the terrorize and ruin it I’ll never know*/mutter*
Summery: Cuteness and pondering
Notes: It’s been awhile since I’ve done a short fic, I hope it’s up to par. Sorry it’s short!
Moments
If life was to be broken up into all the important moments, into the moments that mattered, into the moments that grabbed you by the heart and didn’t let go, she thought they would go something like this:
Her first day of school. Long red plaits falling down her back with knees knobbly under her skirt and a back pack almost as big as she was. She thought she would burst from the excitement that filled her up; it was like a balloon, big and squishy.
The day she met Buffy and found out that not all girls were mean and backstabbing. It tied in closely with the moment Jesse was torn from her life, and she discovered that those losses-well, they never really went away.
Kissing Xander when she was with Oz, realising that day that she was capable of things that she didn’t want to be.
Watching a pencil float up in front of her face: something that was her doing, her magic. The feeling had filled her chest and she thought she may just burst from the newness of it all.
Looking up from her lap to see blue eyes deeper then anything she’d ever known, and a smile that caught deep in her belly.
Casting a spell that would forever be regretted.
Kisses that fell on her like fire, redemption in lip form.
Life was definitely filled with moments, big and small. Some of them were life altering and others didn’t do much to alter anything, but still scarred you down to the bone.
Some made her smile, like her first kiss with Tara; the taste of vanilla and chocolate and salt. As did the memory of Dawn graduating, of Buffy kicking Spike to the curb, or Anya and Xander finally making it down the aisle.
Some tore at her, ripped into her stomach and wrenched her gut. The countless they’d missed saving in the endless fight, the memory of Tara walking out the door, her shoulders shaking in a sob or Buffy’s eyes after Joyce’s funeral.
Moments like all of those were what made a person, were what defined them. Some were terrifying, bad and shocking. They showed results of decisions that a person may never have thought they could make. Some were touching, beautiful and funny: proof that the bad moments didn’t over take life like they felt they did when they occurred.
Willow’s life was filled with all kinds of moments.
Yet none were as big as this one. None made her feel this light headed, this giddy with excitement. None made her as terrified at the same time, feeling like a tightly sprung coil was tight in her chest.
None made her feel as proud as she did right now.
Willow pushed herself off from against the wall. She stepped lightly down the corridor, dodging bustling people and harried staff. She paused at her destination, a door part way down a sterile passage. Grinning to herself, she tapped lightly on the door and entered.
Tara was fast asleep on the bed in the middle of the room. Her hair was fanned out messily on the pillow, her face looked exhausted and shadows were smudged under her eyes. Willow felt her breath woosh out. Tara had never looked so beautiful.
Tiptoeing across the room, Willow came upon the other, much smaller bed in the corner. Her son, 8 pounds of pure, cute, tiny flesh lay in the middle, his fist just inches from his mouth. His lips were parted, moving slightly as he slept. Willow felt her heart thumping hard, at the same time it feeling as if it was in her throat.
My son.
Leaning forward, her face flushed with awe, Willow’s hand hovered just millimetres from cupping his head. She slowly lowered it, cradling his head in her head. Willow felt a tear streak down her cheek at the touch of his strawberry blonde hair, silky beneath her hand.
God, he has my widow’s peak. He has Tara’s lips. His eyes are all Tara; I saw them right after he was delivered. Oh, my baby boy, you’re a wonder.
Willow slipped her hand beneath his head, slipped her other underneath his sleeping body and lifted him up. She stood, cradling the tiny boy in her arms, swaying gently.
They had all been so shocked when they found out it was a boy. Somehow, everyone had presumed they would have a girl. Everyone, but one, it would seem. Tara had smiled a secret smile and laid back in her chair as everyone received the news, her hands resting softly on her stomach.
Later, she told Willow that her Mother had told her she’d have a boy with hair like the sunset. Tara had smiled sadly and said she was just glad her Mother got to see her son, in whatever way it was she got to.
Now, looking down at her little boy, she whispered, “No little boy out there will be more loved then you, little man.”
Willow tore her eyes away from her son and looked up. She felt herself grin as she caught Tara staring at her, a soft smile on her lips.
“Morning, baby,” Willow murmured. She walked over to the bed and slowly sat down near Tara, careful not to jolt her or the baby. Willow leant forward and pressed a kiss to Tara’s lips.
“Hey, sweetheart.” Tara’s face was sleepy, but she glowed from deep within. She reached out her hand and laid it so it cupped her son’s head, mirroring Willow’s earlier.
“Good morning, Owen.”
At that moment Owen opened his eyes, blinking at them sleepily. His mouth yawned in a perfect ‘O’ and Willow felt her heart clench with more love then she knew possible to feel.
Moments.
They were what made a person’s life. This moment, the one right now, Willow new would etch its way deep into her heart.
/End
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A spirit is a special thing...it can never truly be broken, and never, ever be tamed. The most calmed spirits out there, hold a wild edge to them...for they are the very essence of a person, and every person is capeable of anything.
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