Mystical Musings of a BAMF Witch

Nearly 20 years had passed since she stood before the Sunnydale Hellmouth’s crater, she could not believe it had been 18 years, a fully aged human could have grown in that time. Heck it was like last year that she met her best friend – it couldn’t have been 24 years, could it? She thought for a moment while she chewed the tip of an eraser while trying to recall the if her memory had lapsed or if her math really was accurate. Red hair that once shimmered had dinged over the years, not in a bad way. A matured, sage kind of way, yeah. That’s how she looked at it at least. Willow’s mind searched the memory banks as she sat quietly in her small apartment. Rather than adorn her humble abode in commodities she had books, millions and millions of books; mainly aged texts that would never grace a Library, or a school library ever again. She had inherited a majority of her collection after Giles passing. It wasn’t a demon, nor a vampire that ultimately took him out of the game, it was simply age and genetics.

Willow moved from her cozy burnt sienna couch to her kitchen and tipped the carafe over her coffee mug that read “it’s a witch thing.” A gift from Xander many years ago. She mindlessly opened the refrigerator and grabbed the Cinnamon Toast Crunch creamer and added a splash to her mug. Sipping the spoon into the steaming cup she stirred as she walked to her balcony, sipping and leaning against the slider frame, her apartment had a view overlooking Brookside park, the cherry blossoms were beautiful this time of year.

A slow crescendo began, something that was reminiscent of space and also some time of laser pew de pew sound startled the redhead which caused her to slosh a bit of coffee on her bare toes and wooden deck. She frowned and then her sense retuned, it was only her phone. She breezed back to her couch plopping down and plucking the phone off the end table, smiling when she saw the name displayed on her phone. Willow slid her finger to answer the call, while at the same time grabbing a perfectly placed dish towel to wipe off the coffee residue.

“Hey” was her simple and soft reply.