Lead The Way

by: Amy

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"Lead the way, I will follow.

Here today, and here tomorrow."-- Sophie B. Hawkins

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Sometimes it's the smallest, simplest moments that redefine lives. Willow had been through several. Clear, sharp, pointing the way to where her path led. She always followed, somewhat helplessly, like a marionette with no strings, pre-ordained to do what she was meant to and not struggling, she went along. Walking forever without pain or exhaustion, on a road that was as mysterious as it was obvious.

One of those moments, but not by far the most important, was when she met Buffy.

She learned new things, found out things about herself and others and mankind. She walked along her path with open eyes, willing, eager eyes, wanting to learn and help. And, later, her hands, wizened hands, touched by magic, did help. She learned to, she loved it.

One of those moments was when she met Oz.

His white-blond hair, open face and smile, sweet smile, Oz smile. Clicking and fitting from the very start, they fell deeper and deeper into a new thing she was discovering called love, a warm, bright feeling in her stomach when she saw him, a blistering feeling on her lips when they kissed. His hand in hers, a warm dry grip, his arms around her, holding her close. All of these things made sense to Willow, all of them felt right and perfect.

One of these moments was when she kissed her best friend.

Oh, Xander had given her many of these small moments. When she had caught him kissing Cordelia in the library so long ago, her heart had broken for the first time, shattering like fragile glass, filtering through the light like gold dust. A heart so hopeful for the future with him; he had been there for all of her life, she had loved him since she could remember. Throughout history, she figured, there were people destined to be together, whether in love or just in friendship. Her whole life until the point she caught him and Cordelia, was spent wishing that it was in love.

So when he kissed her, her years of looking at him longingly, dreaming of him hopelessly and waiting for him patiently seemed worth the rest of eternity. That moment was something new to her, a rash, impulsive side of her personality that hadn't been revealed before. Though she hardly dared to call it impulsive, as the action of putting her lips against his was something she had planned for years.

She grew, learned so much from these moments.

And the most important one came into her life when she finally, really, fell in love.

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It was the moment that most redefined her. She was sitting alone, thinking, her mind as clear as an empty, crystal vase, and it came to her, like someone filling that vase with flowers. Dozens and dozens of flowers, fresh spring flowers, and she suddenly felt alive and well and right with the world.

The path looked bright and luminous, and she could suddenly see where the path had been leading her all along, what she was destined for, what she was made to do and accomplish. She saw herself at the end of the path, standing with the one she loved, holding his hand, and he holding hers.

She had often imagined him, taking her hand like that. She was surprised that her love for him hadn't really occurred to her before. She had passed her thoughts off as fanciful wishes, dreams that would never come true, almost amusing in how impossible they were to achieve.

But, somehow, she achieved the dream.

And another of those moments split through her like a knife, like a bolt of blue lightening, startling her to the core, making her proud and dizzy and wistful and hopeful.

It was the moment she started to leave her path, walk away from what she had always deemed right for her, designated for *her* future. She, instead, chose to walk his, walk with him. Willow followed him down a long, winding road, not caring where it led as long as she was with him, as long as his hand was in hers.

The moments, all strung together like pearls on a necklace, had taken her to here. Where she was in his path. But no, not fully his path, and not hers, either, just theirs together, sharing and affectionate and full of a love that could never be described to perfection. Because how can perfection itself be described?

He looked into her green eyes, eyes that he loved, eyes that loved looking at him and soaking in his face, and took her soft, lily hands in his. The soft green-gray of his own eyes were somber, but beneath that buoyant and alive.

"I, Rupert Elliot Giles, take thee, Willow Nicole Rosenberg as my lawfully wedded wife." She stared into his eyes, eyes so deep that she felt that she was falling as she heard his words, but knew that when she landed, she would be safe. "To have and to hold, for richer or for poorer, in good times and in bad..." He paused, smiled lightly and she knew that he was thinking of how many good and bad times there had already been, how they had held on to the precious thing that was set in front of them, how they had already overcome everything in themselves.

His voice dropped to a whisper, choked with emotion and tears. "Till death do us part."

She repeated the vows in a daze, seeing nothing but him and their path, the moments and minutes and seconds that had brought them together, bound them so close. The glass was broken underneath a heel, his lips met hers with a stinging tenderness, the crowd cheered and she was guided down the aisle among her friends and family.

She sat with him in the limousine after the reception, quiet and thinking about his eyes and mouth and love and where they were going to spend the night and what they were going to do for the rest of their lives. He looked at her, took her hands again, and smiled gently.

"Penny for your thoughts, Love."

"Oh Rupert," she sighed, eyes shining with love, "My thoughts are worth so much more than that." Looking down at the sparkling ring that rested on her finger, she sighed again, leaned forward and kissed him, a soft kiss filled with promises. When she pulled back, she smiled.

"Much, much more."

The End

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