Jasmydae – First, my condolences on the loss of your mother. If you share traditions, this time of year can be very hard. My mother’s birthday was around T-giving and it was our major family holiday so Thanksgivings are very hard for me.

This story is absolutely adorable. Willow/grinch is so recognizable but her pain is so well explained and tangible. IT actually took me a few tries to read this because it hurt her so much. I love the glimpses of her and Tara. And how lovely that Cindy Who is a greater witch than either Tara or Willow and that Tara fixes Scooby. I can’t believe that she left Scooby! How could she?!!!! Still, the implication that they will be a family is lovely.

Ophelia – Boy can I relate. I’m pretty bad at wrapping presents although I’ve gotten better. I get my wife to do it whenever I can. But this is adorably written with all the angst of battling some demon. Awesome.

Taralicoius – do you mind if I think this is kind of silly/fun? Hey. We all have strange family traditions and they can come from one conversation. I love that Tara’s sharing her strangeness with her family.

Ashley – I haven’t read yours yet but I will soon.

Foo - I’m thinking through my own piece and trying to figure out how to get all the requirements in and when I could possibly write it. But hopefully I’m not just teasing. If you leave the challenge open, I may be able to get it done around New Years.

_________________
Menorah Tales | Working It Out | Random Bits

Artemis and Deb: I was planning on keeping this open a bit past the new year, since it's probably a crazy time for everyone getting ready for the holidays and writing a challenge fic is not much of a priority. No worries guys. We're all waiting to be blown away with what ya got.

Okay, so I'm working through these slowly, but I promise more feedback to come!

Megan:

I love this retelling of the Grinch. Poor Willow! To have such a horrible time in school, I can't imagine how difficult it was for her.

There was a line about the house smelling like cabbage and dog, and I laughed out loud at that. Is it sad that I know that smell? I'm a cable tech and I am constantly in and out of houses, and some of them smell exactly like that, heh.



I love how matter of fact Cindy was, just like a little kid. Big duh there Willow!

Good on ya for weaving all the required elements in. Some of them I didn't even notice!

What a great way to kick off this challenge, thank you so much for entering such an enjoyable fic.

_________________
Foo

Kisses and Gay Love
"I like my buttons, curvy." - Willow, Neverland, by Easiersaid

Maybe I'm being dense and that's quite possible since I have been up since 5...but where was the Grinch bit in that last story? Not to criticize...just wondering how stringent the rules are since I am trying to figure out a Grinch angle so I can write my own contribution...of course I can't make any guarantees...just gotta wait for inspiration...although The Grinch is on tonight

_________________
Me: We met on the Kittenboard and now we're legally married
Amber: You guys!!!
Me:So, thank you for bringing us together
Amber: Oh yes, Aly and I will take credit for that

Umgaynow... My post did not have a mention of the Grinch. I thought I had it in there, but when I double-checked, I didn't find it. I guess that is a mistake on my part. Originally, I had put it in when Willow is talking about helping Buffy with the decorations. She says something like, "I don't want to be a Grinch and ruin her Christmas spirit" but I guess I must have edited it or something. Sorry.

Ashley

_________________
My parents said that I could be anything that I wanted to be... so I became a lesbian.

Ashley,
I loved your story and you did a sweeter gentler job of portraying Willow's maiden embracing of the secular, well non-Jewish, holiday traditions than I did.
When confronted with how to solve a stalemate in a scene, I often take the shortcut of going for the cheap laugh, usually of a sexual nature.

This is my favorite sentence of your story as I can really picture Willow and Buffy having this conversation given the obvious parallel between Buffy's hair color and thinking that Willow would actually go for that gambit.
I also say a hearty "YAY" that you worked in some rockin' Willow and Tara smut because we want to live more vicariously than just placing them under the mistletoe. We want to see Tara place mistletoe in her knickers and have Willow follow the tradition by kissing Tara's flesh underneath.

_________________
I can deny chicks in chainmail nothing.
Amberhol-from the land of sky blue waters.
No Mere Music Hall, This my novel available directly from rosestindog@gmail.com.

Loved that one. I think you did a really good job with the flirting between W&T. It seemed more realistic and down to earth. I know that sounds weird buuuut what can you do? Anyway awesome job

_________________
"For one human being to love another, that is perhaps
the most difficult of all our tasks, one for which all other work is but preparation."

"Goddess grant me the serenity to accept that which I cannot change,
Courage to change the things I can, And Wisdom to know the difference."

"The real discovery lies not in seeking new horizons,
but rather in finding new eyes."

JustSkipIt,

Not at all. A person of your inestimably high caliber of writing for Willow and Tara can view my humble entry any way you like.
My default setting for writing any scene tends to err on the side of silly/funny anyway and I have to really focus and be mindful of the tonal shifts if a scene is supposed to have serious intent and yet the characters are still just cracking wise.
Not so much in this story as it's rather more of a vignette but in my novel where I have to guard against the villain being comedic since he's a nasty piece of work and should be feared and reviled not be a source of amusement.

Chris-more kind words from another of my favorite Willow and Tara chroniclers. I enjoyed writing it and as I explained in an earlier post, there is quite a lot of room for improv in fleshing out Tara's background as the few scant details we have from the series proper are sketchy at best.
Mother-a practicing Wiccan
Father-a domineering patriarchal control freak. I find it easy to see him as a Pentacostal Elder.
Tara goes away to U.C. Sunnydale and meets Willow and the Slayer's Circle and finds a family she is in harmonious acceptance with.
Within those parameters, Tara is the blankest slate to work with so the disparity in she and Willow's background can be explored thoroughly.

_________________
I can deny chicks in chainmail nothing.
Amberhol-from the land of sky blue waters.
No Mere Music Hall, This my novel available directly from rosestindog@gmail.com.

masterjendu: Thank you. ^_^ I really liked the 'Tis the Season challenge, and when I saw the bit about the Grinch, I couldn't resist submitting an entry. It was a lot of fun to write. Hope your shopping goes well, and I am always (ridiculously, giddily, and pathetically) happy to get more feedback. ^_~

Cup: Thank you! Glad you enjoyed it.

shiraz: Happy holidays to you, as well.

SJ: Thank you. I felt like I rushed the ending, but after several rewrites, it was the best I could come up with.

Zampsa1975: Thanks! I've been meaning to ask you: what's your avatar?

taralicious: Don't be so hard on yourself; it's a nasty cycle. You are mighty!

BentBrokenTheory: omg smilies *dazzled* @_@; Well, thank Foo and co. for coming up with such an entertaining challenge. As far as pregnant Tara--I aim to please(?) ^_~

Artemis: I guess balancing wacky/silly and more serious stuff is kind of my MO. It's funny--I find myself putting dogs into a lot of my writing, but I've never had one. Always been a cat person.

JustSkipIt: Thanks so much for the kind words. This year will be...interesting. No, I need an adjective closer to "horrifying." It will involve my father, and his new girlfriend, and *all of her family*. Thanksgiving was like this, too. I'm starting to think like my sister: Argentina sounds pretty good right about now! So, yeah, I admit that Willow leaving Scooby behind was out of character. I needed some way to get him to Tara, and I figured...the cops were chasing her, she'd just nuked a truck, she thought her dog was dead, she was all but out of magic...meh. It's three in the morning. Close enough. I actually feel like I kind of rushed the last couple parts of the story, because I really wanted to get it posted in one night. Reading back through it, the last meeting/conversation feels too rushed. Lessons learned!

Foo: Loved the challenge. :) It's easy for me to draw upon Bad School Vibes. I managed to avoid most of the direct confrontations, but I was one of those stick people? Too tall, too gangly, too nerdy, and not so much with the being attractive. My strategy was to find one person in every click and befriend them, and it was just enough to kind of slide by without notice. And then of course, being a total dork was like the norm at college, so everything changed. :) Yeah, I liked the cabbage and dog thought, too. I tried a bunch of weird combinations there, and that was the one that worked. Yup! I stuck to the challenge guidelines, although I was sneaky with some of them. That armadillo, though...it's been so funny watching all the authors stumble over themselves to fit it into their stories. It took me so long to find a spot for it. :p Thanks to Calvin's transmogrifier, though, for the final idea.

Thanks all for the feedback, and I'm really looking forward to reading more entries!

~ Megan

Jasmydae: my avatar is Chris Achilleos's painting called Black Tears...

http://www.chrisachilleos.co.uk/main/ga ... rious.html

_________________
We few, we happy few. We band of buggered.

Posting While Nude Improves Your Mood.

Megan,
Thanks for the encouragement. WIllow and Tara are the two characters that fans feel the most protective of in terms of maintaining the fundamental and intrinsic qualities that make them Willow and Tara while still allowing fan-fic writers enough latitude within those parameters to place their own stamp on the stories.
That could be complete rubbish as Willow and Tara are the only pairing that I've ever been emotionally invested in to read a siginificant amount of so other pairings may inspire loyalties of their own.
I submitted a story for a different fiction challenge a few years back and was vilified and the story was taken down for violating rules of posting.
Thus I was gunshy about allowing my imagination to flow free and unrestrained in the parameters of this holiday challenge but the inclusion of "The Grinch" and the just plain wacky notion of the armadillo proved irresistable and a nice break from my novel.
I'm just glad that people have thought it was funny and diverting in exploring the nuances of the blend of religious and secular beliefs which comes into play when you're in a committed relationship with another person.
No one so far has told me that my interpretation was offensive or demeaning to women, religion, or small furry creatures from Alpha Centauri
My point, and I do have one, is I struggle mightily with the serious dramatic bits and, as such, am insecure at how those play out when sent out into the wild world to be read by others.
My two primary literary heroes, now sadly both deceased, are Douglas Adams and P.G. Wodehouse, both of whom occupied a corner of the writer's sandbox devoid of any serious dramatic tension and played the comedic elements like a Mozart symphony.
Thank you to all who have left feedback and Bring It On...Tara in a cheerleading uniform, I'm just saying...

_________________
I can deny chicks in chainmail nothing.
Amberhol-from the land of sky blue waters.
No Mere Music Hall, This my novel available directly from rosestindog@gmail.com.

Ophelia11: Haha! I loved it! I could just see Willow all frenzied trying to wrap the presents! She can calculate the exact amount of tape and paper needed, but doesn't have the motor skills to get it done. I've always pictured Willow that way, so brilliant she can't do the easy stuff, LOL.



Delightful. Absolutely delightful. Thanks so much for participating!

_________________
Foo

Kisses and Gay Love
"I like my buttons, curvy." - Willow, Neverland, by Easiersaid

OK, here's my entry. Sorry about the length; it sort of ran away with me...

and it gets a banner, because I'm photoshop obsessed and like making banners.

[center][/center]

Lighting the Flame


Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Willow, Tara, and the rest of the gang (and this one has a sizeable cast!) belong to Mutant Enemy, not me. For the world is a cruel, cruel place.
Feedback: Yes, please! Kudos, Criticism, whatever, I like it.
Spoilers: None whatever.
Notes: Written for the "'Tis the Season" challenge. The requirements were: 1. The fic must be completed in one posting. 2. The fic must be set during the holiday season, be it Christmas, Hanukah, Kwanzaa, Yule, New Year's, etc. 3. The fic must make use of the following objects: an armadillo, and gold, frankincense, or myrrh. 4. Willow or Tara should quote one holiday lyric as part of normal dialogue. 5. There must be a mention/inclusion of some (any) element of the Grinch Who Stole Christmas (the 1966 Boris Karloff cartoon).
[spoiler]The tourney in the story is loosely based around Battle for the Cure, a charity tourney I participated in some years ago (unlike Willow, I only came in 4th... or was it 5th, I don't recall), which raised money for the Cystic Fibrosis foundation. Although all the characters in the fic are familiar faces, their real-life counterparts, I assure you, are just as awesome. Though alas, there was no Tara-counterpart present at the real life tourney. As I said, the world is a cruel, cruel place.[/spoiler]
Summary: It's a time of magic, a time of fighting. It's a time of predestined meetings, in which two holy flames will be lit. In short, it's a LARPing event in December.

[center]~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~[/center]

The demon was coming right for her. Her sword was at the ready, and she was pretty sure she could strike him before he got to her. The problem, though, was that the thing would just keep on coming. It was strong, and if it managed to get its claws on her, she was as good as finished. Time for a different tactic.

"Halt!" she shouted, keeping her sword at the ready but assuming an imperious stance. "I am Lady Salix, Baroness of Ryesee, and I demand to know what business you have in this realm!"

Her words had the intended effect; a look of consternation on his face, the demon came to a halt perhaps fifteen feet away. After a second or two of confusion, he bellowed, "The Infernal Korzak goes where he pleases, and answers to no mortal! This land is to become the playground of my hellish masters, and I have been sent to clear the--" he was cut short as a fireball hit him from behind, and he shouted in surprise.

Having come stealthily up the forest path behind the demon, Lady Salix's ally the wizard Corellan stood grinning triumphantly. Salix smiled in response, far more confident now. The demon turned his head to face the wizard, a look of fury on his face.

"You have to charge that first!" the demon shouted angrily.

"Uhhh.." Corellan responded, taken aback, "I did?"

"You totally didn't! You have to say the incantation loud enough to be heard 20 feet away!"

Lady Salix sighed and rolled her eyes. "Okay guys, I don't have the patience to listen to you two argue, and there aren't any reeves nearby. Let's just start over. Andrew, toss him back the fireball. Xander, back up down the path a little and charge your fireball."

Andrew looked smug as he tossed the cloth-wrapped red padded ball back to Xander, who seemed less than pleased with this solution. Nevertheless, he walked back up the trail and waited.

"Okay boys... Lay on!"

[center]~~~[/center]

Okay, that was a pretty fun quest, overall, she thought as she headed back across the field toward her tent. Better than some, anyway. And I managed to head off a bout of rules-squabbling, which is a very good thing if I do say so myself. And I guess I do, 'cause I just did. To myself.

Arriving at the tent, she dropped her sword into the small pile of other boffer weapons her small group of friends had brought with them to the event, and plopped down into her camp chair. The campfire was burning nicely, which was a great comfort given the chill in the air. By the time night fell, the chairs would be moved much closer to that little fire. For now, it was simply a nice comfy place to relax.

"Willow!" a voice called from a short distance off. She turned her head and saw her best friend Buffy--known here as Mistress Anne of Rysee--approaching the camp. Buffy was looking nice as usual in her bodice and chemise, and was busy pinning up her hair as she walked with what looked like chopsticks. By the time she arrived, the little bells on her skirt tinkling as she stepped around the firewood pile, her hair was neatly arranged and looking very fetchiing. Making herself look pretty had always been a mysterious and arcane concept for Willow, but Buffy always made it look so easy.

"How was the quest?" she asked as she sat down in a chair across from Willow's, brushing grass and twigs from her skirt.

"It was good, really. The questors managed to work together fairly well, and we stopped the demons from waylaying the travelling magi. Then we were told that the demons had stolen their frankincense and myrhh, and we had to recover it and get it back to the magi in time for them to make their appointment. Flowed pretty smoothly, not a lot of having to wait around. Good quest. I mean, you know, it was a quest, so lots of walking around aimlessly, lots of magic... but for a quest it was good."

"What is your issue with magic, anyway? Why don't you like it?"

"It's not that I don't like it. It just unbalances the game. A class-based game is difficult enough to balance when it's kept simple, but when you add in all those incantations, spellballs, ranges, enchantments, etcetera, it's just impossible. Honestly, there are some classes that just aren't worth--" she broke off as she noticed Buffy's badly-hidden grin. "--and I've talked about this before, haven't I?"

The grin came out of hiding. "Uh huh."

"Then why'd you ask?"

"I just think it's cute when you geek out about it."

"Willow's geeking out again?" Xander's voice came from behind Willow. Moments later, he walked into her field of vision, now out of his wizard robes and in just his jeans and ECPI sweater. "I want to geek out! Why didn't anyone call me?" He tossed the black bundle of his wadded up robes into the open flap of his tent and flopped down in his own camp chair. "Alright. Let's make with the geeking!"

"No!" Willow was wide-eyed and embarrased. "There was no geeking! Well, a little, maybe, but I was tricked!" She squinted menacingly at Buffy. "A dirty trick, too."

Buffy laughed. "Wil, you're at an Amtgard event. You came to Maryland to camp out for the weekend--in December, I might add--all so you could get dressed up and pretend you're a noble elven warrior-woman. If ever there was a place to freely express your geekiness, this is it!"

"And hitting people," Xander pointedly interjected, looking uncomfortable. "It's not just dressing up. There's also lots of hitting people. That makes it manly... right?"

The giggles this elicited from both young women made him duck his head a bit. "I'm just saying... the soft, satiny wizard's robes... not gay. That's all I'm saying."

A call from nearby headed off Willow's response before it started. "Hail and well-met, dear friends!" Willow recognised the familiar voice of Queen Dee, and grinned. The queen had a habit of finding people who looked uncomfortable or out of place at her events, and taking them around to meet people she knew they would 'click' with. Somehow she always got it right, and Willow had made some good friends that way. She turned in her chair to see what newbie or traveler-from-afar the queen thought would feel at home with the Rysee contingent--

And froze. Because it was one of those moments, one of those time-slowing moments where she experienced something so profound, or so breathtaking, that it would stay with her forever. The experience in question was both.

The girl was amazing. From the sunlight on her shining wheat-coloured hair, to the way her simple corset dress showed off her gorgeous figure, to the little nervous motions that showed up in her body language, to that tiny smile that promised so much more than it showed, the young woman trailing behind the queen was... simply unforgettable. Willow found herself unable to take her eyes off of her.

Buffy, fortunately, was not similarly mesmerised. "Your majesty," she responded in welcome. "How goes the day?"

"It goes well. Can you believe how not-freezing it is? Who knows, with a little luck we might even get this tourney started on time!" Dee was dressed fabulously as usual; Willow couldn't recall a time when she'd seen the woman looking anything less than fantastic, even when she was fighting, but today she barely registered the velvet dress or fur-trimmed mantle. Her eyes were busy elsewhere.

"This," Dee continued, "is Dame Astra of Herneshire. Astra, these are my friends from the land of Rysee, down in Virginia. Mistress Anne, Corellan, and of course Baroness Squire Lady Salix, who will be fighting in the Triple-T Tourney today."

And then those lovely blue eyes were meeting hers, and the little smile was bigger and fulfilling all its promises, and Willow could only grin back like an idiot.

"Salix is the genus of w-willow trees, isn't it?" Astra's voice was timid, but Willow was drinking it in.

Smart! Oh, could she be any more perfect? And that stutter is adorable! Outwardly, though, she only managed a "Yeah..."

Fortunately, Buffy (who was hiding a grin again, not that Willow had a chance of noticing) was not similarly dumbstruck, and swept in to continue the conversation. "So, you're a bard?"

Willow's brain rushed to catch up, finally spotting the details she'd missed before; the embroidered harp belt favour, the bamboo flute dangling from Astra's belt by a leather cord, the blue sash... so many details washed away by those eyes, that smile... Okay, and the cleavage, admit it, her breasts definitely... distract.

Astra turned her head to answer Buffy--Was it my imagination, or did she hesitate? Oh, tell me she hesitated! God, please don't let her be straight, or worse, taken! You wouldn't do that to me, would you, God? I'm sorry about missing a couple of days of Chanukah, I really am! I'm even lighting the Chanukkiyah tonight... ok, so it's not really a lamp, it's got LEDs and buttons, but I'm lighting it! Please don't let this girl be unavailable and ohmygodshestalkingnow!--and was saying, "--really think it's one of the most balanced classes. Bard magic is really limited and unique, which puts it more on a level with the non-magic classes... sorry, I go on about that sort of thing at the drop of a hat; I'm on the interkingdom rules committee."

Okay. So, she could get more perfect. And did. Wow.

"Astra here isn't just a bard on the field, either," Dee put in, causing the girl to blush and drop her eyes. "She's a fabulous singer, and she plays the harp. She'll be performing tonight, I've insisted upon it!" The queen's warm grin was full of satisfaction, as it always was when she was doing what she did best (that being sticking her nose in, helping people, and occasionally matchmaking). "But now I must drag her away. I've a few other people to introduce to her, and you," here looking with a knowing smile at Willow, "need to warm up for the tourney without further distraction." So saying, she took Astra by the arm and led her off.

OK, look back. Just once. Just one glance over your shoulder is all I ask. OK God, here's the deal. Have her glance back and I promise I will attend cousin Shelly's Bat Mitzvah instead of making an excuse like I'd planned. Cross my heart I will.

Possibly God found the offer acceptable, because when they were perhaps twenty feet off Astra's head turned back toward them. It was just for a second, maybe less, a furtive glace at best, but the shy smile Willow thought she'd seen made her resolve not only to attend the Bat Mitzvah, but also to bring a really good gift. And possibly even pay attention during the Torah reading, to boot.

Andrew made it back to the camp just then, wiping at his face with a rag. "Who was that with her majesty?"

"That was Dame Astra." Buffy's voice carried more than a hint of amusement.

"She was pretty." Andrew had accidentally left his chair at home, so he sat instead on a largish rock across the fire from Willow.

"Don't go getting any ideas, my young padawan," Xander responded in a patient voice. "Remember the mantra."

"It's no good trying to pick up girls at Amtgard, because all the good-looking ones already have girlfriends." Andrew sounded almost bored, which given they'd never seen him show any interest in a woman, was no real surprise. "You know, this demon makeup was way easier to put on than it is to take off. Does anyone have any cold cream?"

"I do," Buffy responded. "I'll get it for you." She ducked into her tent.

Xander, quickly writing off his tentative attempts at male bonding, instead got a teasing look on his face. "I wonder why Cordy brought that girl by here. She's not really the usual type we hang out with. You know. Kind of dull."

"She wasn't dull!" Willow was scandalised. Dull? Her? Not in a million years! I thought she was really interesting, actually... and what are you laughing about?"

The last was directed at Buffy, who was coming out of her tent with the pot of cold cream and had nearly tripped as she started to giggle. "Wil, he's pulling your leg. She was obviously nice, and very pretty, and I don't blame you at all for being smitten."

"That's right," Xander quickly agreed. "Sorry about the fun-poking, Willster, it's just that's the fastest I've seen you go all weak-kneed in just about ever. Well, there was Suzie Deacon in first grade, but I always suspected that was really about her My Little Pony collection."

"Ooh, did she have flutter ponies?" Andrew suddenly seemed far less bored. "I loved those... ummm... you know, because they were highly collectible... umm. Thanks for the cold cream, Mistress Anne!"

"Yeah, she did, and they--hey! Wait, me, smitten? I'm not..." Willow stopped before she could finish her sentence. She could already feel her face warming with the blush, and it wasn't like her friends would believe her protests anyway. "I'm... I'm gonna go warm up for the tourney!"

And, grabbing a pair of swords from her pile, she dashed off to do just that.

[center]~~~[/center]

The waiting was always the toughest part. She was warmed up, she was ready, but of course the tourney wasn't ready to go yet. In all the events Willow had ever attended, there was one single commonality: nothing ever ran to schedule.

This time it was worse, because of the crowd. The Triple-T Tourney was no ordinary tourney; it was a special charity bout. The kingdom of Diamond Glen was known for its charity events; in this case, they'd held qualifying tourneys at every land in the northeastern U.S.. Each contestant had to donate a toy to participate, and the winners of the qualifying tourneys got to compete in the final tourney here, today. As a result, the kingdom had collected literally thousands of dollars worth of new toys to donate to Toys for Tots this year, and with contestants from so many different lands there were also a lot of people here to cheer them on. The tourney hadn't started yet, and already there were at least a hundred onlookers, lounging and chatting in chairs they'd brought over from their respective camps. Her friends were probably out there, but she hadn't had the guts to really look.

"Stage fright getting to ya, Red?" It was Sir Spike, her patron knight, approaching with his usual cocky grin.

"Hi Randy. Nah, me, stage fright? Only... a lot. A lot. Yes, actually." She held up her left hand; it was shaking like a leaf. "There's just... a lot of them, you know? And that's plus all the usual tourney jitters. I don't even know who I'll be up against today!"

"Well, me, for one. And I won't have you facing me at anything less than your best, so come on. I've got the cure for your shakes right here. Pick up a shield, girlie, and get ready for a beatdown!"

Willow grinned. Not many people saw past her knight's gruff, cock-of-the-walk exterior, but Willow did. And when you did see past it, he was actually really a sweet guy. Still a rude bastard, mind, but a sweet one. And he was right, sparring with someone really good was just what she needed to calm her nerves and get her back into focus.

She got so focused, in fact, that before she knew it the tourney was starting.

[center]~~~[/center]

Willow's first opponent was someone she'd never heard of; a guy named Gunn. She read him as aggressive but inexperienced, someone she could probably take. But she was off her game; from the second she walked out on the field she felt the weight of the onlookers' gaze pressing on her, and she couldn't shake that feeling. It made her slow to react, and that was all the edge her opponent needed. She walked off the field deflated. She'd lost her first bout, and in front of all those people, too!

Randy tried to cheer her up as best he could, but Willow was inconsolable. The tourney was double-elimination, she wasn't out of the running yet, but there was no doubt in her mind she was going to lose miserably. She waited, barely noticing as the other fighters went up for their bouts. She was too wrapped up in self-pity to pay much attention. Why did I even sign up for this in the first place? I mean, the charity, yeah, but I could have just donated without participating, lots of people did. But no, I decide to go for it, to humiliate myself in front of hundreds of people.

"Look lively, Red, you're up again. Don't worry, this bird looks like a pushover to me."

Reluctantly Willow looked up, grabbing her sword and shield automatically--and froze.

It's her. Of course. Of course it would be her! My humiliation wouldn't be complete without actually being knocked out of the tourney by the girl I most want to be cheering me on. Great, just great!

She walked onto the field at her lowest mood ever. She didn't want to look Astra in they eye, didn't want to be seen at all, but it would have been rude, insulting even, to touch swords without meeting the girl's eyes, so she reluctantly looked up--

--into what had to rank as the most dazzling smile ever seen by a human being. And eyes so blue that... well, Willow couldn't think of an appropriate ending to that sentence, but they were definitely so blue!

And then the girl said the five words that changed everything:

"Will you dance with me?"

And Willow, a big goofy grin suddenly plastered on her face, could only respond, "Sure."

And then they were dancing. Willow had heard a few people refer to swordplay as 'dancing' before, and had always figured it for a flowery metaphor. But this was no metaphor. She and Astra were dancing. It was a dance of relation, of position, of discovery. Sometimes she led, sometimes the other girl did. Either way, it was an entirely different experience. She was conscious of herself, of Astra, the space between them, everything about what they were doing. And it was beautiful! She found herself thinking far less, but being aware of far more than she'd ever experienced. And as the fight progressed, Willow realised that even though she was stronger, quicker, and even more skilled than Astra, she could never have beaten her. Leastways not before this... whatever this was. This shift. Rebirth. Quantum leap. Whatever you called it, everything was different now. And as she scored the killing blow by spinning backwards and wrapping around the girl's shield to strike her in the back, she laughed with the joy of it. And then they were both laughing and their weapons were on the ground and they were embracing, and the crowd was exploding with applause. And then they turned to the crowd and Willow found herself smiling, grinning even, as she saw all those people cheering them on and realised they'd been part of the dance, too, in their way. It had been at the same time intensely personal and completely public, and somehow those two aspects didn't negate each other at all. She walked off the field grinning like a fool. Just before they parted, Astra leaned in and quietly said, "I think you're going to win. The tourney, I mean. I'll be rooting for you."

"Thanks," Willow replied. "But you know what? Either way, I'm good. Hey, what's your name? Your real name, I mean."

"Tara."

"Tara. Umm. Will you meet me outside the feast hall after court?" She'd never done that before, made the first move like that. Before that fight, she'd never have been able to. Everything was different now. She didn't even understand how or why, but it was.

Tara looked down and blushed, and it was just the most adorable thing. "I'd l-like that." Despite the blush and the stutter, the smile she turned on Willow when she looked back up was anything but shy. If she'd had to choose a term, Willow would have said 'electric'.

[center]~~~[/center]

As the tourney continued, Willow found that this new way of looking at things wasn't limited to sparring with Tara. Every bout was suddenly fun. More than fun, joyous! It really was a dance, a dance in which she moved both with and against her opponent/partner, a dance in which she learned both about herself and the other. Each new bout brought new experiences, a new partner to dance with. Willow found herself playing to the crowd, intentionally being silly and dramatic, calling for applause when her opponent did well, bowing low when she won. In her bout with Randy, she began by running out onto the field and hugging him, shield and all, to his great chagrin and to the great amusement of the audience (not to mention Randy's father, Sir Ripper, who was reeving the tourney.)

The time just flew by. When Willow wasn't fighting, or watching the bouts her friends were in, she was busy sparring with Randy. He was dumbstruck by the change in her. "I don't know what that bird did for you, Red, but you oughta thank her for it. It's like somebodylit a fire inside of ya, or turned on a bloody light or something!"

"I fully intend to," was all she said in response.

Before Willow knew it, it was down to the final battle. Despite her new perspective, she found herself still getting nervous. Her opponent was someone she'd never fought, a woman from Texas that was rumored to be an amazing fighter. Of course, in Amtgard mentioning that anyone is from Texas is immediately intimidating--the game started there, and it has the highest and most experienced concentration of fighters, resulting in a much higher average fighting ability--but this woman had a reputation above that. Willow hadn't been paying attention in the woman's previous bouts, but it seemed she was really skilled and fast, taking out most of her opponents quickly and agressively.

Well, I don't know about that, Willow pondered as she took the field, but that garb is certainly distracting enough to give her an advantage. That the leather outfit showed almost nothing of the woman's body was irrelevant; it was so tight and form-fitting that it didn't need to. And the blue dye staining the woman's long hair complimented rather than detracted from her beauty. Face it, Rosenberg; she's a hottie. A hottie with a heck of an intimidating glare. That she's turning on me. Eep!

Then the woman smiled, and the effect was broken. She actually had a very warm smile, and she held out her hand to Willow. "Lady Illyria," she said by way of introduction, her voice light and pleasant and touched by a very charming texas accent. "But you can call me Fred. I've been watching you fight, you're very good. And very entertaining."

Willow shook the offered hand. "Lady Salix. Willow to my friends." She grinned mischievously. "Want to blow kisses to the crowd? They'll love it."

Fred's answering grin was absolutely sparkling, and Willow wondered how she'd ever been intimidated by her. As one, they turned and blew kisses. The audience, as Willow had predicted, cheered and laughed merrily, and many blew kisses back.

The two fighters picked up their swords and shields. Willow smiled at the symbol painted on Fred's shield - a menacing looking armadillo with glowing eyes. Fred caught the glance and nodded. "It reminds me of where I came from. Plus, when I was little and the kids used to beat on me 'cause I was such a big ol' nerd, I'd curl up like an armadillo to protect myself, and the nickname kinda stuck." She shrugged, a little 'what can you do?' sort of shrug, and they shared a moment of sympatico, Willow having had similar experiences in grade school.

"Well, I guess we should get started.", Willow said.

Fred nodded, and suddenly all the amiability was gone and Willow found herself the target of that stare again. I feel like a bug. A tiny, tiny bug that has somehow offended enough to earn a good stomping.

They touched swords. Okay, Fred, if that's the way you want to dance... let's dance!

But she didn't get to. The attacks came too swiftly, too agressively. Willow had no time to do or think anything except defending herself. One strike after another, some very tricky, never letting her find her balance. Got to... oh, watch out! Okay, now if... that's a feint, don't go for it, there, no, whoa! That was too close... maybe if I... damn, she's fast! I can't do this, she's too good. Maybe if I'm lucky--block that! And that! Maybe... But no. There was nothing for it. She was losing, it was just a matter of time.

The change didn't come at the last possible moment. It didn't come dramatically. She didn't catch sight of the gorgeous blonde there in the audience calling out her name and suddenly find what she needed. No, the change didn't happen in any way you'd see in a movie or show.

But it did happen. She kept up her defenses long enough that the other girl tired a bit and slowed down. Slowed down just enough for Willow to recover her center. And that was all she needed. She could dance this dance. She knew the steps. And it was gonna be fun!

She circled the girl, moving back and forth just in and out of range, inviting those rapid strikes and charges and feints--but only when Willow was ready for them, able to dodge them or take them solidly on her shield. It was her turn to lead, now. When the moment was right, they struck as one--Illyria onto Willow's turning shield, Willow high onto the shoulder of the girl's striking arm. A killing blow.

And then, after a moment of frozen time, it was over. Sir Ripper was announcing her the winner. Fred was hugging her enthusiastically, Buffy, Xander and Andrew were rushing up to do the same, hundreds of people were applauding and shouting 'Huzzah!' Willow was elated, and never more than when she did finally catch sight of Tara, who was grinning ear to ear and clapping, jumping up and down. Then their eyes met, and Tara blew her a kiss. Willow was fairly sure she turned bright red, but she didn't care. She didn't care at all.

[center]~~~[/center]

Feast was good, as it always was at Diamond Glen events, they having a master chef on hand with a passion for cooking medieval dishes. Willow sat with her friends as usual, though her eating was frequently interrupted by people coming by their table to congratulate her, and she frequently had to fight the urge to glance over her shoulder at the table where she knew Tara was eating. Nevertheless, she managed to enjoy the meal and even participate in conversation. The feast hall was decorated with candles and holly, with many tapestries hanging on the walls with various winter holiday symbols. The people, too, were decked out in finery; all the court garb that Willow saw was gorgeous. Some was just people's best garb, others had especially chosen winter colours and christmas-y-type-accessories for the occasion. Lord Flutie had even brought his (well-behaved and housebroken, Willow was pleased to find) dog into the feast hall, with what appeared to be a small reindeer antler tied to its head. Willow thought it looked uncomfortable, but the dog didn't seem to mind.

After the eating had slowed down and the conversation picked up to a loud rumble, there was a loud clinking noise that quickly got everyone's attention. It came from the head table, where King Liam was tapping his soup spoon against his goblet. As soon as the rumble had died down a bit, he stood.

"Now I know some of you are still lingering over your food," he began, "but as the sun's setting and it is a special occasion, we're going to start court a little early today. That said, I'll turn the floor over to Queen Dee." Willow smiled fondly. Liam was a really great guy, and a good king, but not really one for the speeches.

Cordy stood as Liam (her husband in real life as well as in the game) sat down. "I just want to start by thanking you all for being here, especially those of you who came in from far off, and most especially those of you who are Jewish. As most of you should already know, tonight begins the first night of Hanukkah; holding the event this weekend was therefore an unfortunate scheduling error that we weren't able to correct once we realised. But for those of us that did come for the festivities that do celebrate this holiday, we'd like to take some time now to honour it with you."

She nodded to one of her royal guards, who went to the front of the room and unveiled a large, gorgeous Chanukkiyah. It was golden, and ornate, with tall white candles. There was some brief ooh-ing and ahh-ing, but it shushed quickly when the queen cleared her throat. "And now on behalf of the Diamond Glen, I would like to ask the winner of our Triple-T Tourney, Baroness Squire Lady Salix of Rysee, to please light the menorah. Milady, would you?

Hastily wiping the tears that had crept unbidden to the corners of her eyes, Willow stood. "I would be honoured, your majesty." Guess I don't need those LEDs and buttons after all, God. Aren't these people great? Climbing off of her bench, she made her way to the candelabra. It was even more impressive up close. There was a lighter laying there next to the base, and she used it to light the shamash candle. Then she sat the lighter down and used the shamash to reverently light the candle of the first night. After replacing the shamash, she turned to face the hall.

"Barukh ata Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha‑olam, asher kid'shanu b'mitzvotav vetzivanu l'hadlik ner chanuka," she recited, remembering many years past, with her father lighting the Chanukkiyah and reciting the prayers in his warm, rich voice. I'm not as devout as you, Dad, and I might fumble the words a little, but I'm gonna do my best! "Barukh ata Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha‑olam, she‑asa nisim la‑avoteinu ba‑yamim ha‑heim ba‑z'man ha‑ze. Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha‑olam, she‑hehiyanu v'kiy'manu v'higi'anu la‑z'man ha‑ze." She found that her voice was strong, carrying across the hall, and when her words ceased there was a respectful silence.

"Now there's supposed to be singing," she said with a trace of embarrassment, "but I'm no good at that part."

"Got you covered, hon," the queen responded fondly. "Go sit and rest your feet, we'll take care of the singing." She turned back to the assembled feasters as Willow made her way back to her table. "We have a treat for you now. A trio of master bards from Herneshire have agreed to sing the traditional Hanukkah hymn for us. It is therefore my honour to present to you Dame Astra, Mistress Anyanka, and Lord Krevlornswath."

The three were dressed in garb of matching colours; cobalt blue and white. And while Willow certainly thought that Tara looked the best, Anyanka was definitely filling her dress out nicely as well, and Krevlornswath's makeup and prosthetics job was simply amazing.

Once the applause died down, the three smiled at each other, and without introduction launched into a beautiful rendition of Hanerot Hallalu. Their voices joined together wonderfully, and the words washed over the hall like a wave, gentle but powerful.

It's not exactly the traditional hymn, Willow considered, but I doubt God minds. Such a beautiful sound raised up to Him, how could he?

The song finished to more thunderous applause, which seemed to embarrass Tara and please the other two.

"We can't let you go after singing just one song for us," King Liam told the group. "Please do us the honour of an encore?"

The three exchanged a look that told Willow they'd been expecting this. Krevlornswath spoke up. "We don't know any other Hanukkah songs, but we have practiced a little holiday ditty you might enjoy."

"Oh, you'll definitely enjoy it," Anyanka interjected. "We're very good. And we'd like to invite Master Wolfram to play for us on this one. Come on up, Wolfram."

Master Wolfram turned out to be a young looking country boy type with stubble and wearing a simple T-tunic. He had a beaten up old acoustic guitar, and he stood beside the singers and started picking out a melody. The three bards began a very simple round, almost a chant, their voices blending together magically. Soon, though, more lyrics joined the simple chant; it was, Willow realised, a solstice carol, and she found it quite lovely.

All too soon, the music was over, and the usual court business began. There were announcements, acknowledgements, awards, and plenty of speeches. The biggest deal, of course, was the tourney, and much was said about all the toys that were donated and all the people that had participated. Then, of course, they called Willow up, along with Fred and Randy, the 2nd and 3rd place winners, and gave them all trophies. Willow's was made from a bronzed Snoopy Sno-Cone Machine, Fred's was a bronzed Elmo toy, and Randy got a bronzed Furby. Pictures were taken and hugs were given and huzzahs! were shouted, but Willow's heart wasn't in it; she was impatient for court to be over, and time seemed to be stretching on, every speech longer and more boring than the last....

[center]~~~[/center]

The sky was clear, the moon shining high in the sky a stark contrast against the black curtain of night. The chill in the air had settled into a distinct cold, and Willow's breath was coming out white fog. She wrapped her velvet cloak tightly around herself and shiverered. Where is she? She said she'd meet me here after court... she didn't forget, did she? Or worse, change her mind about showing up? No. No, she wouldn't do that...

...would she?

"Sorry I'm late; I had to run to camp for blankets!" Willow spun at the sound. Tara was there, out of breath from running. She was wrapped in some sort of cloak made of fur and had her hands full with a bundle of blankets.

Willow grinned and took some of the blankets. "C'mon, let's go sit at the pavillion."

They walked together towards the mentioned pavilion, a side benefit of Diamond Glen's choice to hold their events at a Ruritan club. The two walked shoulder-to-shoulder, not quite touching but very close. When they arrived, they put a few blankets on the bench and wrapped the others around themselves.

For awhile they just sat there, saying nothing, a quiet bundle of blankets cocooning two young women. Unseen, though, Willow's hand reached out just a few inches, and found Tara's hand reaching out to intercept her. For some time, perhaps minutes or hours, those interlaced fingers were all the communication Willow needed. In a way, she reflected, it was another sort of dance. A still, silent dance, at least on the outside. On the inside it felt like everything she was was in motion somehow.

Finally Tara broke the silence. "It was really beautiful, when you lit the flame."

"Yeah," Willow considered. "It really was, wasn't it? And I was just thinking the same thing about you."

Another significant silence followed. She didn't ask what I meant. She didn't need to. Just knew. Of course.

"I want to thank you," she continued. "For showing me... exactly what I needed. Not just for the tourney. For life."

"You're welcome. And I was just thinking the same thing about you."

Wait, does she really mean what I think she means? Oh God, she does! She gently squeezed Tara's hand, and felt the girl's fingers squeeze hers in response. Her stomach was doing flip-flops, but the rest of her was just speaking one long, silent 'yes'.

"When I next see Cordelia," she said eventually, "I think I'm going to kiss her."

"Better watch who you're kissing," Tara responded playfully. They both giggled about that for a moment. "But I know what you mean. She told me she had a sort of a vision about us, just knew it was important to bring us together."

"Maybe God wanted us to meet."

"Or the Goddess."

They both grinned at once, and turned to face one another. All huddled up like that, their faces were very close. Willow found herself immersed in crystal blue eyes.

"O holy night," she whispered, and leaned in.

"O night divine," Tara agreed, and their lips met at last.

[center]The End[/center]

_________________
I'll be everything that I want to be,
I am confidence in insecurity.
I am a voice yet waiting to be heard,
I'll shoot the shot, bang, that you hear 'round the world.

Great story.

Oh boy...well here goes.

Author: BentBrokenTheory (Akilah...yep like Akeelah and the bee...)
Title: Mammals and Mayhem
Rating: Mmm I’d say R
Disclaimer: Obviously I don’t own them. Like everyone else here I wish I did…
Feedback: Yes, Oh yes please…
Summary: Not really good with summaries. This story just sort of popped into my head… Um I guess Willow and Tara get startled by a certain something in a box…
Notes: Flashbacks are in italics so are thoughts
This is my First Fic ever so please be nice. Also I know that women do go on hunting trips and what have you just like men do, but I am honestly not a fan of said activities. And I would just like to say that no armadillos were hurt during the Writing of this Fic. This coming from the lesbian, vegan, earthy, yoga instructor that is my very personality….anyway on with the show. ::Looks on self consciously::


Willow took a moment from the office festivities to stare into her champagne glass. Tara’s company had thrown this Christmas Eve office party annually, and every year the redheaded genius had found a way for them to studiously avoid going. This year unfortunately had been different.

Tara had just gotten out of the shower to find Willow sitting on the bed, still wrapped in her towel. Her viridian eyes were glazed over and Tara knew that her lover was vacationing somewhere deep in the corners of that beautifully large mind. After listening for a moment to ensure the children were still downstairs in the living room of their pent house apartment with Kira, their regular babysitter, she closed the door quietly The blonde paused to drop her bag of frankincense that willow had left in the bathroom. Tara had to hold back a chuckle as she made her way over to Willow.
“Sweetie?” She whispered as she knelt in front of the redhead, taking both hands into her own. Tara hoped this would be enough to shake the hacker out of the mental race she was obviously running. Willow on the other hand only seemed to compete faster in this race at the sight of her lover, kneeling before in just a short, tight, towel.
‘Ok so Plans A through G of operation Snub Snooty and Sluttish Office Party have not succeeded. I only have plan H, my last hope. I just hope I can get in touch with the key player in plan H, “Horny Tara.”’
The redhead’s eyes suddenly became darker and Tara instantly knew what her lover was thinking. She had been at it all day, attempting to convince Tara that they could skip the office party again this year. The blonde honestly had no desire to attend this meeting of the minds and potentially other body parts disguised as a friendly office get together.
‘The office sluts really seem to shine at this time of year’ She thought briefly before turning her attention back to her dark green- eyed goddess.
“Willow.” Tara said softly “You know why we have to go this year. My promotion should be any day now and as the future Editor-In-Chief; I have to make an appearance. I promise we’ll only stay for just a bit. Then we can come home…” The blonds voice dropped a few octaves, taking on a sultry smooth tone. “And I’ll be your Grinch again this Christmas.” Willows eyes widened as her lover leaned over to slowly lick her neck, right under her ear.

Willow thought back to last Christmas. Willow and Tara had learned that their two children, an adorable little redheaded four year old boy named Bradly, and a wonderful blond haired six year old girl named Cindy, had developed a bit of an obsession with the story of how the Grinch stole Christmas. So instead of parents dressing up as Santa clause and elves, Willow found herself dressed as an unsuspecting adult Who of Whoville (complete with silly hair and pointy shoes). And Tara found herself, much to her chagrin, as a female version of the Grinch. She was forced to make the costumes herself as she refused to wear a full suit. So she settled for green tights, a tight long sleeved green shirt and stage make-up, which was believable due to the blonde’s natural artistic skill. The children never the less found the entire night exciting and by the time they were in bed, the wiccan was exhausted. As she turned to her lover, originally planning to take her to bed for some well needed rest, she caught a glint in those eyes that she had fallen in love with all those years ago.
“Will, what’s going through that head of yours.” Tara said fondly with a hint of curiosity. Willow slowly made her way over to her costumed lover taking in all her wondrous curves.
“I was actually thinking, that maybe we could play now…” The redhead’s voice trailed off breathless as she ran her hands up Tara’s arms.
Tara was speechless as she took in the state of her aroused lover.
“P-Play?” Was all that she could bring herself to say.
“Oh yes, play. You can be my Grinch, and I can be the unsuspecting who. And you can enter and come down my chimney to coax and eventually take all my goodies and presents…” Her voice trailed off as she looked into her lover’s now midnight blue eyes. Willow held back her shock as Tara wordlessly pulled her upstairs to the bedroom, where chimneys were entered and many presents were taken and given.


Willow shook her head to clear her mind of the daydream, and remembered her surroundings once again. The annoying shrill of a generic office harpy passing by reminded her that she had in fact agreed to come to the party after Tara’s words…’Come on, who couldn’t be coaxed by Tara? Tasty Tara.’ She knew her lover had her in the palm of her hand, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. Willows eyes scanned the floor for any sign of her blue eyed goddess, and much to her dismay she located her, in the far-east corner of the room. The wiccan was standing in a group of coworkers seemingly having a light conversation. But Willow’s keen eyes knew different. For standing next to Tara was quite literally the bane of the redheads existence over the last couple years. Ted was one of the writers for the New York Times and he worked under Tara. From day one the Blond could not shake off his unwanted advances, even after clearly stating that she was happily married to her soul mate, who was a woman, and had two wonderful kids. Ted did not get the message how ever and had continued to hit on Tara every chance he got. The Redhead quickly downed her third glass of champagne and stalked across the floor toward the group standing in the corner. Upon arriving she took a quick glance into her lovers blue eyes and saw all she needed to see. Tara was wearing her “I don’t want to be rude but I’d rather be having teeth pulled than standing here talking to you face.”
‘That’s it, time to go.’ Willow discreetly shoved Ted aside to place her hand on the small of Tara’s back, and Tara gratefully leaned back into her lovers embrace. She knew the signs, she could always read her beloved and Willow was ready to leave. And not a moment too soon because they had been talking about Ted’s Surprise Christmas present of Tara.
“I’m sorry everyone but we really should be going...” The blonde stated to the group.
Willow picked up where she left off with her sentence. “Because we should be getting back to our children at home now.” She flashed a bit of her resolve Face, daring anyone to disagree. The couple said their last goodbyes and much to the redhead’s relief Ted was nowhere to be seen. Willow and Tara gathered their coats and headed towards the elevator when a clammy hand stopped Tara on her shoulder.
“Tara, wait.” A male like voice called out.
The coupled turned around to see Ted standing there with a present lying in his hand, he was holding it out as if he were making a holy offering to a goddess. Tara’s brow furrowed and willows pout took on a very dangerous evolution, going from cute to potentially killer. Ted of course took the hint and after ensuring that Tara took the present he bolted faster than you can say slimy stupid smelly man… well that seemed right, in Willows brain anyway. They both turned back to the elevator annoyed, and more than a bit curious about the mystery present. Later on at home after the much needed kisses and bedtime stories to their children, they both walked into their bedroom and stopped in front of Ted’s present resting on the floor in front of the bed,(Willow refused to put it on the bed.) With a sigh Tara sat on the floor and quickly divested the box of its wrapping. The blonde lifted the cover so that willow, who was sitting right behind her resting her chin on her shoulder, and herself could view its contents. They both let out a shriek and Tara instinctively threw the box across the room.
“Tara what in the freaky frilly heck was that???” Willow said breathlessly
Tara, who had looked part confused and part disgusted could only shake her head and shrug.
“I think…Tara I think it was a mammal…” Willow trailed off as they both got on their hands and knees, slowly crawling over to the upside down now slightly mangled box. Sure enough when finally gathering the courage to turn the box over, beady eyes and a snout-like nose greeted them. Willow being more of a city girl had to rack her scientific brain to recall the creature. However the southern girl in Tara knew right away.
“Its an armadillo…” The blonde had said with a sudden southern drawl that made her lover look at her with surprise. After the question of why southern people said “armadillo” in that particular way was asked by the red head and the intriguing conversation that followed Tara's answer; they discovered, through a note left with the package, that Ted had gone hunting and had decided that Tara would appreciate the stuffed animal.
“Stupid males and their stupid pastimes.” Willow and grumbled after scanning the note.
Tara chuckled lightly and tossed the note aside. She turned and embraced her beloved softly and then pulled back to look into her eyes.
“I recall making a promise to a certain redheaded goddess a few hours ago…” Tara had whispered with love and a hint of passion.
The note and accompanying mammal were quickly forgotten in Willow’s mind and she soon found herself pressed into the mattress by her lover’s warm soft body.

The people of New York, that found themselves wandering around 36 and 6th street could have sworn that they had heard a voice scream “God bless us, every one.” These same people also were forced to step over some dead animal lying in the middle of the sidewalk. While this was not an uncommon occurrence for the New Yorkers they did have to wonder exactly what this Rat like creature was. You and I of course already know.
The End

_________________
"For one human being to love another, that is perhaps
the most difficult of all our tasks, one for which all other work is but preparation."

"Goddess grant me the serenity to accept that which I cannot change,
Courage to change the things I can, And Wisdom to know the difference."

"The real discovery lies not in seeking new horizons,
but rather in finding new eyes."

TWW and Akilah,
These were both good holiday stories and again divergent usage of the armadillo prop.
The office party story reminded me of the George Carlin routine where he said that "O Come All Ye Faithful" was the first religious hymn to combine sex and religion.

_________________
I can deny chicks in chainmail nothing.
Amberhol-from the land of sky blue waters.
No Mere Music Hall, This my novel available directly from rosestindog@gmail.com.

OK, so I never got around to reading the stories, so wrapped up was I in writing one, but now I have.

Megan, that rocked. I admit I was never that fond of the grinch story, but your version, I like. Cindy was absolutely precious.

Ophelia... I laughed out loud, several times. Also, your opening paragraph was just awesome. I've read that the opening sentences are the most important part of any story, as they're what hook you in. You definitely did a great job of that!

Blayne, I was reading, and just sort of nodding, not really into it.. and then Frank N. Sense and the three Weiss men came up and I started laughing and grinning. Then you ended on a TOTALLY sexy note, and I gotta say, two thumbs up!

Ashley, I'm gonna second Blayne in her appreciation of the 'I'm Jewish, not stupid' line. Buffy's cute attempt to get to see her present in advance was adorable. And the smut was hott, and the family moments were touching... all in all, wonderful.

Akilah, that was neat. More internally-focused than most fics, which made for a very interesting mood. The dead armadillo in a box freaked me out about as much as it did W&T, I think. And your ending was absolutely perfect.

This is fun. Foomatic, Masterjendu, Dline, thanks for making this challenge!

_________________
I'll be everything that I want to be,
I am confidence in insecurity.
I am a voice yet waiting to be heard,
I'll shoot the shot, bang, that you hear 'round the world.

Story Title – Five Golden Rings
Author – JustSkipIt
Pairing – T/W
Feedback – Yes, please
Spoilers – None
Rating – NC-17
Disclaimer – Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy own Willow and Tara and the Buffyverse. No copyright infringement is meant by this fic and I will not make any money from it.
Note – This story takes place in the Shadow and Sunlight-verse. That includes: Shadow and Sunlight, Water, and Shower Scene #3. If that isn’t enough for you, let me say that Tara and Willow are vampires. Yes, evil vampires. Willow is Tara’s sire and Drucilla is Willow’s sire. Willow killed (on her first night as a vampire) Xander, Dawn, and Buffy. She later killed Joyce. At Tara’s implicit request she killed Tara’s father and brother and presented their hearts to her as a sort of valentine before turning Tara (completely with Tara’s approval).

Note 2 – Bill was the name of the guy who did Diane’s tattoo. Thanks for the loan, Diane.

Happy Hannukah, Joyous Solstice, Merry Christmas, Joyous Kwannza


"It's like a sodding menagerie out in the courtyard. I had to practically run through not to end up with bird shit in my hair."

Willow looked up over the magazine she was glancing at. She couldn't call her activity reading, per se, but it occupied her time for a few hours while she waited for Tara to return. "I think you mean aviary, brother." She stood up and crossed the cavernous room to plant a kiss on his thin cheek.

"The family is together for Christmas." Drucilla's voice echoed as she entered the room twirling and looking at the ceiling as if she saw something there.

"Not grand-dad," Willow pouted.

"Yes. Where is Angel-pouf?" Spike still hadn't gotten over losing the bet over whether Willow would manage to kill the Slayer and he was clearly in no mood for Angel's return from Europe.

"On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me..." Drucilla sang as she walked, taking Spike's hand in hers and pulling him to waltz her toward the courtyard. She finished counting down from five to one and let go of her blonde childe to pull Willow to her feet. "They are all lovely and I know your childe appreciates it."

Willow kissed her sire back, smiling as she thought of the ways Tara had shown her appreciation for the past four nights. "I just wanted her first Christmas to be special."

Spike slumped into the chair Willow had vacated and lit a cigarette. "I can hardly wait until we've got all those sodding maids a milkin' and lords a leapin' and geese a layin out there. Then it will be a bloody menagerie."

Willow leaned against the pillar. "You won't care what to call it when I let you share the meal."

The blonde vampire shrugged nonchalantly as if a catered dinner didn't appeal to him. "If you say so. I still don't understand why you're making the effort. You're here reading about Angelina Jolie in People and she's out doing who knows what."

Willow smiled at the vampire. "Yes. I should be so jealous." She rolled her eyes to show just how little she cared that Tara was still out. The youngest vampire in the family needed more blood than the others. Drucilla could go days without feeding as could Spike and Willow only needed a little blood each night. But at Tara's age, she needed multiple victims a night. She returned each night to regale Willow with tales of her chases, and Willow remembered those heady first few months. She was still excited by the chase and the power of the kill so she understood completely why Tara stayed out and played her games.

Drucilla had drifted into the courtyard as Spike and Willow bickered. She spun around with her hands flung out level and tilted her head to look at the full moon through the doorway. "She runs with the wolves and will return much stronger from their blood."

Spike got up and kicked a coffee table as he passed it. "She better not be sodding bothering that Watcher. She left that Nancy boy white hat's body on his doorstep two days ago. He's going to call and see if the Slayer in Boston will pay us a visit if she's not careful."

Willow laughed. "A new Slayer might be fun. When was the last time you killed a Slayer, brother? Oh, wait I remember. I killed Buffy last year and mum killed Kendra a few months later but you haven't had one since, what, 1975?"

"Sod off."

His departure from the room coincided precisely with Tara's entry. Willow shook her head as she looked at the newcomer. "I wish I had a camera."

Drucilla clapped her hands. "For me?"

Tara approached the family matriarch and with great ceremony held out the live armadillo she held in her left hand. She planted a kiss on Dru's cheek and bowed slightly. "Merry Christmas."

Dru ran her fingertip along the scales on the terrified animal's back. "I can read the future in these leaves." She danced out the doorway to drop the incredibly ugly animal in the courtyard, an action which caused the turtle doves and partridge to all fly into nearby trees.

Willow watched her childe with a grin. "And the tree?"

Tara leaned the fully decorated tree against a nearby wall, dropped a stand she had folded in her hand on the ground, kicked it open, placed the tree and plugged in the lights to flood the room with blinking red, blue, green, and white patterns. "Mr. Giles had it in his living room but I don't think he's feeling that festive."

Willow clapped her hands in joy. "You are the very Grinch who stole Christmas and I can't believe he hasn't put the locks back on his apartment yet." Upon their arrival a few days ago, Tara had gone to the Watcher's apartment in the clothes of a very poorly dressed girl she had eaten just minutes before, and shouted for help before falling half-way down the stairs. When he and his laughable band of white hats had rushed into the courtyard they found a college-aged blonde girl with a nasty scrape on her forehead crying and shaking with terror and had immediately invited her inside where they gave her hot cocoa and warnings to stay inside after dark before driving her safely "home." Although she hadn't used her entry for anything more malicious than writing "Willow sends her regards" on his calendar and stealing the Christmas tree as far as Willow knew, the redhead also knew Tara liked to imagine that he lay in bed at night surrounded by crosses and garlic and filled with fear.

Once Tara's hands were empty of the tree she dashed across the room and swept Willow into her arms, kissing her soundly. Willow could taste the mingled blood on her lover's lips and tongue. "Mmm, gamey."

Tara laughed as she picked up the redhead and wrapped the girl's legs around her waist before backing her against a wall and kissing her more thoroughly. "I ate wild game tonight." She licked her lips with a loud smack. "My first werewolf." She giggled. "And second and third." When Willow looked at her with mock outrage she shrugged. "I had to find the right one you know."

Willow ground herself against her child's waist. "You didn't leave him on the Watcher's doorstep did you?"

Tara wagged her eyebrows.

"What?"

"What did you do, my monster?" Willow tapped her foot as if she were genuinely bothered at her childe's recklessness but it was all too amusing.

Tara giggled again. "Well, I felt bad about stealing the tree..."

"You aren't capable of feeling bad." Willow swatted Tara's ass with her hand as she lowered her legs from around the other woman's waist.

Tara continued to giggle and Willow thought unnecessarily of catholic schoolgirls which actually made her remember some plans she had for after the Christmas season was over. "I left him in place of the tree."

The redhead knew she should admonish her childe for torturing Giles but, hell, Willow was the one who had killed Xander, his Slayer, the Slayer's sister, the Slayer's mother and had goaded him after each kill. Her childe had only learned a healthy appreciation for bothering the Watcher from her. She cocked her head thoughtfully. "Was he a wolf or a boy?"

Tara rolled her eyes in excitement and bit at her own lip. "He turned back into a boy as his heart beat its last. Good thing too or I might not have been sure I had the right wolf finally." She took a few steps backwards and held out her hands toward Willow, waving her fingers. "Now my pressies."

Willow looked at the other vampire with feigned innocence. "What pressies?"

Sweeping her lover into her arms and carrying her down the hallway and toward their bedroom, Tara sung a she walked. "On the fifth day of Christmas, my monster gave to me... five golden rings." She paused. "Four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree." She kicked closed the door to their room and pressed Willow's body against it, reaching up to grasp the collar of Willow's shirt as if she intended to tear it away before the older vampire could grasp her hand and pull it away.

"Maybe you've been too naughty to get your present tonight."

Tara kicked off her boots and kneeled down to remove Willow's as she laughed loudly at Willow's suggestion. "First, you made me so much more naughty than I ever used to be and second, you like me naughty." She ran her sharp fingernails up the backs of her lover's legs from ankle to ass, careful to avoid damaging the tight leather. Once she reached the waistband, she slid down the side zipper and began to ease the trouser from her sire's body, now using her razor sharp nails to scratch and cut Willow who took an unnecessary breath.

Willow allowed her childe to finish removing her trousers before pulling her to her feet and kissing her violently. "You can have the first two golden rings now, my monster."

Tara smiled smugly and held out her hands, her surprise apparent as Willow pulled off her billowy blouse revealing the glint of gold in the moonlight. Tara required no invitation as she grasped one ring between her adept fingers and the sucked the other into her mouth. Willow's delight at the feel of the new jewelry was obvious as she grasped the back of her childe's head to her with both hands, not caring if she tugged too tight.

For her part, Tara alternated between the two diamond hard nipples, sucking and nipping at them while tugging at the rings and enjoying the way Willow's moans became louder and louder. Suddenly she removed her mouth and took a step back. She slid a pinkie through each ring and tugged her sire toward the bed before releasing the gold rings and tossing Willow onto the bed. In a moment she straddled her lover, flipping her onto her stomach.

Willow's breasts ached deliciously, bolts of pain shooting directly through her freshly tender piercings and further inflamed by the friction of the rings against the bed as her lover pressed her weight onto her back and spread her legs. She could feel the wetness even before she felt Tara's fingers delving between her lips and then thrusting up into her cunt. Tara's other hand snaked around to tweak first one and then the other ring as she drove her fingers in and out. Each thrust pressed Willow's chest into the bed and she began to whimper in pain and pleasure, finally erupting in climax as her childe bit into her shoulder hard enough enjoy her blood.

As soon as Willow's climax had passed, she slipped her left hand under her childe's knee and quickly upended the younger vampire. She might allow to Tara to dominate her from time to time but she wanted Tara to always understand that Willow was her sire with all that it meant. She quickly pounced onto the other woman's stomach, pinning her shoulders to the bed with her knees and grabbing a handful of hair to pull Tara's mouth to hers. She could taste her own blood on her childe's mouth and knew that Tara would be ready now to have Willow inside her.

Instead, Willow reached into the nightstand for a black velvet jeweler's box and opened it as Tara's eyes followed her movement with excitement. "Bill at the tattoo shop showed me just how to do this." She held up a curved hollow needle in one hand and with the other pinched together Tara's left nipple. Bill, of course had worn rubber gloves and cleaned the nipples with alcohol and been exceedingly gentle. Of course after seeing Willow's reaction to the first piercing he had been much less gentle with the second. For an extra $25 he was happy to explain to her how to do her girlfrend's when she explained about the gift she had planned.

Tara tensed as she anticipated the needle. "Did you eat him?"

"No. He seemed like our type of guy: covered with tattoos and piercings and he seemed quite happy to have the business. I told him I'd send my friends." With no further warming, she drove the needle through Tara's nipple and then threaded the gold ring through it before withdrawing the needle. It was no surprise to her as Tara arched in climax from the intimate pain. The second piercing went faster as the older vampire inserted it before Tara had even recovered from her first powerful orgasm. She knew just how sensitive and painful the piercings would be while they were so fresh and immediately grasped one between her fingers and leaned over to take the other in her mouth. Her child whimpered her pain and suddenly Willow flipped around to straddle the dark-blonde's mouth, again leaning forward to suck and bite at the fresh gold rings.

Her childe lapped hungrily and eagerly at her dripping pussy, using her hands to separate the folds and pinch her clit. Each time Willow pulled on one of the rings, Tara pinched her clit again until both vampires's cries threatened to interrupt Drucilla and Spike. Willow felt Tara's fangs pierce her lips and screamed her orgasm, not caring what her sire and brother thought or did. As soon as she was done, she took not a moment to recover but kneeled above her lover and thrust three, then four fingers inside her dripping wet cunt. She could feel Tara's new nipple rings rubbing against her chest and increased the friction by moving as she thrust in and out. The younger vampire came screaming when Willow bit into her hip and tasted the evening's kills before collapsing onto her body.

Allowing Tara a few minutes to recover, Willow repositioned herself next to her lover and kissed her as she played with the new piercings. "I adore you, my monster. Do you know that?"

Tara whimpered softly. "And I you, my monster."

Willow smiled at the exchange. It had become something of a ritual for them. She knew, or believed, that vampires did not feel love, were not capable of love. But she couldn't imagine a stronger attachment than the one she felt for her childe. For all the teasing she had done on their journey toward Sunnydale about sire's rights, she had no intention of sharing her lover and would have faced down Angelus or Drucilla had either mentioned the tradition.

She leaned over and picked up the box to show it to Tara. "Now, what should we do with the fifth golden ring?"

_________________
Menorah Tales | Working It Out | Random Bits

Great googly-mooglies, that was hot.

Whew!

I'll be in my bunk...

_________________
I'll be everything that I want to be,
I am confidence in insecurity.
I am a voice yet waiting to be heard,
I'll shoot the shot, bang, that you hear 'round the world.

Lol TWW: Can I just say that this part had me cracking up Mainly because of a radio commercial that I heard the other day, it just reminded me of it. So I loved your story of course because of the fact that willow was such a cute warrior and tara would most defiantly make an amazing bard. But also because ive always wanted to go to one of those things but i never found anyone who was willing to go with me. And yea if i do ever write any other fics they would probably be the same way, due to the fact that im a very internal person... um if that makes sense lol. You know the whole, holding of entire conversations in my head type of person.

Taralicious: Lmao im really glad thats what came to mind because thats exactly what i was thinking... I mean is it just me, or does it just seem like office parties should just be called "take your slut to work day" instead? Really though.

Justskipit: I think its awesome that you continued with the "shadow and sunlight." universe because that has always been one of my favorites. And good lords and ladies that was beautifully kinky.

_________________
"For one human being to love another, that is perhaps
the most difficult of all our tasks, one for which all other work is but preparation."

"Goddess grant me the serenity to accept that which I cannot change,
Courage to change the things I can, And Wisdom to know the difference."

"The real discovery lies not in seeking new horizons,
but rather in finding new eyes."

Great fics.

JustSkipIt,
A new chapter in the Shadows and Sunlight series with a festively twisted and macabre tale of Yuletide cheer means everyone gets finger sandwiches in their stockings.

_________________
I can deny chicks in chainmail nothing.
Amberhol-from the land of sky blue waters.
No Mere Music Hall, This my novel available directly from rosestindog@gmail.com.

thiswomanswork - I really enjoyed that. I loved the way you managed to get all the Buffy and Angel people into it and include so many injokes. My favorite part was the description of Tara and Willow's dance/fight. Very well done and erotic and romantic. Thanks.

_________________
Menorah Tales | Working It Out | Random Bits

Author: Chris Cook
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Characters are from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, property of Joss Whedon/Mutant Enemy/whoever else has a stake. Storytelling style shamelessly copied from George MacDonald Fraser's The Reavers - which, if you were to read it (go ahead, it's a gleefully funny adventure), you would find highly superior in wrangling this kind of manically fun language. It's a lot more difficult than it looks, which is why I would up kind of lapsing in and out of it whenever inspiration struck, or more often, failed to.
Note: Reading the previous Willow and Tara Save Christmas story is not necessary, as this story has no connection to it. Or any other story. Or common sense. Or reality.

Other note: Oops, looks like this one's a bit long to fit into one post, so if you're reading this right now, you may notice it ends somewhat abruptly. If you're reading this later (which is now, for you - what happened to then? We passed then. When?), hopefully I've fixed it.

[center]WILLOW & TARA SAVE CHRISTMAS
(Again)
(This time it's medieval)
(A very silly story)[/center]

[center][/center]

'Twas a dark and stormy night, which is a horrible cliché to start a tale with, we know, but the fact of the matter is that it was night-time, though what hour exactly none could say, on account of the sundial's cheap glow-in-the-dark gnomon which ne'er worked since the day it came out of the box, and it was stormy, with winds tearing the tiles from rooftops, and squalls of rain then moving in, coordinated-like, to drench the unhappy occupants, who cursed the buxom lass the town crier had employed as weather-girl, for be she e'er so comely, and stacked out to here, she clearly knew nowt o' isobars and El Nino, and her predictions of sunny and twenty-seven were in the gutter, and no mistake.

From which details of timekeeping and newsagency, not to mention eccentric vocab, you may gather, gentle reader, that our tale is set in Days Of Yore, and furthermore ye should be forewarned that so far as historical accuracy goes, this one's in the gutter with the weather-girl's forecasts. So populating yonder imagined landscape were the typical smattering of homely peasants tending their fields, guards in rusty breastplates lounging surly-like at the town gate, taverns full of ne'er-do-wells engaged in various activities involving alcohol and vulgarity, monks cloistered in their monasteries doing whatever it is monks do, best not ask, and scattered about the place assorted brigands, thieves, highwaymen, lowwaymen, confidence-tricksters, criminals organised and disorganised, and the local nobility, all doing their darndest to skive a living off the efforts of the aforementioned honest peasantry, who were understandably upset that it would be several hundred years until the advent of collective bargaining. Add too a handful of magical and mystical what-nots to brighten up the place, in the hopes of catching the eye of a Hollywood producer with hopes of making the next Harry Potter film, ogres and trolls and elves and the usual assortment of Tolkien off-casts, and - don't forget - blanket the whole shebang in a torrential downpour that had the local populace scurrying for cover, and the sky's complement of dragons, pegasi and so on diverting to other airports while cursing the cost of fuel and wondering if they could sue the weather-girl, who'd better hope someone invents, in order, the printing press, newspapers, and the Page Three Girl right promptly, because it doesn't look like her current career has legs.

The scene thus haphazardly set, let us now narrow our gazes, zooming vertiginously in from out all-encompassing wide shot of this eventful and eccentric land to a close-up of a bedraggled traveller, soaked to the bone, making her muddy way up a path towards a sturdy cottage on the outskirts of town. She pauses, lifting a pale hand to the hood of her supposedly rain-proof cloak, which had sadly proven itself nothing of the sort some time ago, raising it slightly so as to peer at the sign standing in front of the house, which proclaims the following:

[center]FAITH the BARBARIAN (and associate)
(lic. Guild of Barbarians, local 21)
Bespoke Heroic Arse-Kicking
Enemies driven before,
Lamentations of women (enemies') engendered,
Jewelled thrones crushed beneath feet (sandals extra)[/center]

Bemused but determined, our intrepid wanderer presses on to the front door, hammering with the kind of intensity you get when a wooden door is all that's between you and not being the target of several gallons of express-delivery deluge. Vague sounds from within penetrate the rain's din, and at last the door opens, admitting the object of out attention to the interior where, blinking in the light and shivering violently, she opens her mouth to speak the reason for her ill-favoured trek across the swamp that's become of the landscape, thusly:

"Ah-CHOO!!!"

[center][/center]

What cryptic message is this? Alright, no good pretending: the poor woman's caught a cold, so the helpful dollop of exposition that was on her lips will have to wait until she's had a blanket and a cup of hot cocoa, or perhaps hot tea may be preferable, since cocoa's yet to be discovered so it'd be a long wait. But we're getting ahead of ourselves - let's skip back a moment, thus to have ample time to introduce 'Faith the Barbarian (and associate)' before our rain-soaked traveller interrupts their evening...

[center][/center]

The interior of the cottage was, thanks to foresight and very determined repairs on the roof last Autumn, cosy, warm, and dry, and just as well, for the first of the two inhabitants on which we cast our view was anything but dressed for the cold. There's a solid rule of fantasy adventure that it must contain a suitably racy woman in skimpy attire, for the cover artist to use should this tale become a paperback and need to attract the notice (and gratefully-received pennies) of horny teenagers, and indeed Faith the Barbarian - for it is she - has brought a marathon's worth of racy, and some to spare. We could just say 'chainmail bikini' and be done with it, but come good souls, where's the fun in that? so be assured that said buxom barbarianess wears (if that's the right word) an ensemble that'd make Red Sonja feel indecently exposed, consisting of minimal scraps of mail affixed to her athletic and certainly not underdeveloped form by way of mere string, and not particularly tightly either, such that the merest motion, or even breathing, set things a-jiggling quite remarkably. In fairness, it must be observed that our underdressed warrioress has made some concessions to practicality: the armour preserving what little modesty she chooses to retain is in fact wool painted silver, rather than chain, for real chainmail next to bare skin, not to mention sensitive bare skin, is no laughing matter, and pinches most vexingly. Oh, and she's wearing heavy winter boots - there'll be some travelling later in this tale, and we're not so unkind as to have her schlep about the countryside barefoot. (Foot fetishists, skip ahead a few scenes, if you like, to where she takes the boots off for a bit.)

A fetching image fit to whet the appetites of anyone used to purchasing magazines in plain brown paper bags, and add too that she's stretched out luxuriously on a sphinx-fur rug, basking in the glow of a roaring fire that has her bronzed (and coincidentally freshly-oiled) skin gleaming like a centrefold, and we're practically guaranteed a movie deal out of this. But it's not Faith and her fabulously exhibitionistic tendencies that this story's about, so we're sure you're eager to move on, dear reader... not quite yet? No harm in lingering a moment longer, we admit we like the view too, and oh look, she's rolled over onto her stomach, and forsooth that g-string covers naught of her backside, does it? Is it warm in here? Must be the fire.

But we must press on apace, for there's more to do than perve at Faith - alright, we'll make all the footage from that scene a special feature on the DVD release, promise - so let us wipe the drool from out mouths, present a composed appearance, and turn our attention to the other inhabitant of Faith's cottage, whom thus far we've identified only as 'and associate'. A blonde she is - like the visitor from the last scene, only obviously not the same one, since she's still slogging around outside at this point - and a striking contrast to Faith, for while the latter lounges around in barely enough clothing to outfit Tinkerbell, And Associate is rather more modestly garbed, in a stylish yet affordable tunic and trousers combo, with soft leather boots, and since her desk is away from the fire, a sweater to stave off the winter chill, emblazoned with the rich heraldry of the Royal Jousting And Peasant-Baiting Cheer Squad. Her attention is on a venerable old tome bearing the legend 'Monstrouse Creatures and Denizens of ye Foul Pitte of Hades (A Spotter's Guide)', a guidebook kept and well-referenced by all the greatest freelance adventurers, although on closer inspection it's just providing cover for the copy of 'Nobility Weeklie!' magazine, which blondie has stashed inside the larger book, and is e'en now catching up on the latest gossip from the royal court of far-off Hollywood under the guise of doing job-related research. Her name, for reasons that will likely never become clear, is Buffy.

And now we arrive where we left off, with a hammering upon the front door, Faith arising and bounding pneumatically to said portal, her immodest bikini dangerously close to slipping out of position (don't say we never do anything for you), and opening it (the door, not the bikini) to admit a visitor with an urgent sneeze.

[center][/center]

And with this brief introductory interlude out of the way we're back where we were a moment ago, with our unfortunately ill-waterproofed newcomer sneezing main mightily, so while Faith blinks in surprise and Buffy hurries to usher their visitor inside, shut the door upon the thoroughly inclement outdoors, and offer comfort of the blanket-and-hot-beverage variety, let's settle in for some dialogue at last...

[center][/center]

"Thank'ee," the newcomer ventured, her shivering subsiding before the warmth of the fire, sipping her hot cocoa gratefully - let's be anachronistic, it's cocoa weather if it ever was - while Faith peered at her curiously, and Buffy sat by her side ready to refill her mug.

"What brought you out on such a curséd night?" Buffy asked, glancing between the blonde and Faith to see if anyone had noticed her authentic ye olde pronunciation of 'cursed'.

"I've come in search of th-the legendary Faith the Barbarian," the blonde replied.

"Hot damn, I'm legendary!" Faith grinned, bouncing in excitement.

"Y'are the... um... the, the very same Faith?" the blonde enquired of her, her powers of speech somewhat hampered by the bountiful Faithettes jiggling right in front of her - yes, she's Tara, and of course she'll remain faithful (pardon the pun) to Willow, even though the Willster hasn't actually turned up yet, but she can't help but look, they're right there in front of her.

"I am!" Faith gleefully confirmed, performing a mischievous curtsey. "And may I present my trusted and overdressed associate Buffy."

"Not all of us are rampant exhibitionists," Buffy griped, before offering the newcomer a warm smile.

"Uh, p-pleased to meet you," the blonde said, returning the smile with a side order of mild panic, as if she wasn't quite certain what she'd strayed into, and can you blame her? "I'm Tara, o-of the Clan MacLae."

"Historical!" Faith declared, crouching down in front of her; Tara tried to avoid staring into her cleavage, which was sufficiently abyss-like that it'd probably have stared back, as the saying goes. "So, you're looking for me and you found me, what can I do for you? Anything? At all?" she added with a less than subtle wink.

"I-I, uh, I need to hire your services," Tara admitted weakly.

"Not a problem," Faith assured her. "I do graduation parties, stag and/or hen's nights, and corporate events, Buffy can hook you up with our regular caterer, the rules are you get four hours non-stop dancing with a sword prop-"

"Uh- no?" Tara interrupted her. "As a barbarian warrior, I mean. A mercenary? There's been a... um, a theft, or rather there will be, a theft most villainous, and I need to stop it."

"Oh, right," Faith nodded. "Okay, a real-sword job. Theft, you say? I'm your girl, valuables guarded with a money-back guarantee, and there's a discount if you let me nail down whatever it is they're trying to steal. That really does work."

"What's going to be stolen?" Buffy, the pragmatic one by a long margin, asked.

"It's... Christmas."

[center][/center]

And now, with that dramatic revelation ringing on our ears, let's leave Faith the Barbarian (and associate) (and guest) for a moment, and head down to the local docks - don't worry, the rain's settled down to a bearable drizzle - where we may find the other of our two soon-to-be lovebirds, and also handily knock off one of the challenge requirements. Huzzah!

[center][/center]

"Um, excuse me?" a redhead, huddled beneath an enormous coat and waterproof cape, but looking around herself hopefully, ventured, as she stood alongside the end of a gangplank. "Would anyone like to contribute to a collaborative encyclopaedia project?"

Around her the crew and passengers of the recently-arrived good ship The Armadillo (there we go) gave her curious glances, then - being a non-communicative bunch, and not vital to our tale anyway - resumed their courses towards the nearest inn, hotel, tavern, ale-house, or other source of inexpensive inebriation.

The redhead, heaving a dispirited sigh, balanced the hefty tome she carried on the gangplank's rail and, using a portable inkwell and quill, added the note: "Not inclined to be diverted from the prospect of strong drink upon disembarking," under the sub-heading 'crews' on a page titled 'Ships'.

"I know, it's personal research," she muttered to herself, "but we're never going to get anything done otherwise..."

[center][/center]

Armadillo, check. Back to Tara, who'll hopefully be explaining the who, what, where, when, and why of the theft of Christmas. Although we can likely take the 'when' as read that it'll be on or around December 25th...

[center][/center]

"What-mas?" Faith asked.

"Christmas," Buffy echoed.

"No, I'm trying to stealthily indicate that this is a medieval-fantasy setting with no real-world religions," Faith said out of the corner of her mouth.

"The introduction mentioned monks, ergo Christianity, so it's plausible to have Christmas," Buffy pointed out, as Tara watched them in escalating bemusement.

"Oh, Christmas, right!" Faith hastily said, her bust swaying even though her 180-degree turn was a mere metaphor.

"How can someone steal Christmas?" Buffy asked Tara, while Faith grumbled "could've been Oriental monks, it didn't specify," to herself.

"Well, you see... perhaps I should start at the beginning?" Tara suggested.

"If you want," Faith shrugged. "But it's cold out there, you sure you want to do the walk up the path from the front gate all over again?"

"Uh... no," Tara shook her head. "I meant-"

"Just tell the story," Buffy advised. "Trust me, it's better that way."

"...Alright," Tara conceded. "It's about my brother, Donnie. A few months ago he took a job as a Hired Goon with a woman who was travelling through the region-"

"Hired Goon?" Buffy and Faith echoed.

"Our father raised him alone," Tara said apologetically, "after he and mother went their separate ways, he didn't have the best education, and he got kicked out of the MacLae Clan Ale-Drinking and England-Warring Society because the clan tartan kept making him go cross-eyed."

"So, Hired Goon?" Buffy prompted.

"Right," Tara nodded. "The pay's good, and he knows how to wear a helmet with a full-face mask, so... Anyway, a week ago I had a letter from him. His employer had made a villainous monologue explaining her evil scheme-"

"Naturally," Buffy nodded.

"Good to see the old ways being kept up," Faith agreed.

"-and Donnie overheard that she's planning to usurp Christmas for her own ends. He didn't know what to do, so he wrote to me, and... um, here I am," the blonde finished.

"How can you usurp Christmas?" Buffy wondered. "It's just a bunch of eating and singing carols, what's to usurp?"

"I'm not sure," Tara admitted. "Only, Donnie said that his employer had learned that something big and wonderful was in the works at the North Pole, something called a Santa Claus, and that's what's going to be stolen."

"Santa clause," Buffy mused. "Something legal?"

"It's not a misspelling of 'Satan' is it?" Faith suggested. "I fight demons a lot, it's the second most popular Barbarian occupation, behind quaffing ale."

"Is that like drinking?" Tara asked.

"It's what you do after you're too drunk to get the ale in your mouth reliably, but don't want to just spill it on the floor. Takes special training."

"Oh."

"So what is it?" Buffy asked, fulfilling her contractual role of steering the conversation back on track.

"Santa? Donnie's letter didn't say," Tara shrugged. "Just that if it fell into the wrong hands, you'd better look out."

"You mean 'watch out'?"

"Oh, r-right. Yes, that was it."

"So how come you're here?" Faith asked. "Doesn't the Clan MacLae have, like, warriors and stuff? Highland laddies? Berserk drunk guys in kilts, that kind of thing?"

"Well y-yes," Tara hesitated, "but 'tis a busy season, and they're all... um, out visiting their relatives, or... Look," she huffed, "do you want to be in this story or not?"

"Is there money in it?" Buffy asked. "We're not a charity mercenary service."

"I'll accept 'endless gratitude'," Faith offered, batting her eyelids. "Especially if you lean forward and say it all breathy-like, so we all know what you mean by it? No?"

"I've brought a hundred gold pieces," Tara said, shooting Faith a warning glare. "Is that enough?"

"I... don't know, actually," Faith admitted. "B?"

"Depends on the historical period, how dilute the gold is in the coins, how much weight the mark on the coins carries in whatever the heck nation it is we're supposed to be in..."

"A yes or a no will do."

"Let's say yes?" Buffy shrugged.

"Good, done deal," Faith smiled, extending a hand for Tara to shake. She took it, ready to jerk back at the first sign of flirtatious hand-kissing, but for all her spicy talk Faith knows better than to mess with a canon couple, so the blonde's hand remained un-ravished (for now, just you want, promise).

"North Pole is it then," Buffy said, picking up her Spotter's Guide to Random Encounters, quickly shoving the enclosed magazine out of sight, and gathering up various backpacks and sundry adventuring equipment conveniently placed about her desk.

"How do we get there?" Faith asked.

"We go... north?" Buffy suggested, unrolling a map and peering at it. "Axial north or magnetic north? Has magnetism been discovered yet?"

"I don't have a compass, if that's what you mean."

"Let's assume axial," Buffy muttered. "So, according to this, if we just head upwards..." she frowned in though, studying the map's various instructive and decorative features. "...that's fifteen 'here be dragons' zones, half a dozen 'abandon all hope ye who venture here' signs, and betwixt one and three edges of the world. You know what this means?"

"We need a lot of dragon repellent?" Faith suggested.

"We need a better map," Buffy sighed. "Let's go see Willow before we leave."

"Willow?" Tara asked, instantly intrigued for reasons that weren't at all clear to her, but let's face it, will save time in the long run.

"Do we have to?" Faith asked. "She's crazy."

"Who's Willow?" Tara asked.

"She's not crazy," Buffy countered. "She's..."

"Loopy?" Faith suggested.

"Who is she?"

"No."

"Crackpot?"

"Who?"

"No..."

"Insane?"

"Quirky?" Tara offered, desperate to find a way into the conversation somehow.

"Quirky will do," Buffy decided.

"Pray tell, who is this Willow?" Tara tried once more.

"Let's go see," Buffy said, ignoring Faith's long-suffering sigh.

[center][/center]

'Who's Willow?' indeed! Has not fair Tara ever read the Kitten board? Oh, right, no internet back in Ye Olde Days of Yore - and we think it's a pain when the broadband drops out for five minutes. Truly this is a strange and primitive time, bereft of the miracles of Google, email, and freely-available porn - though Faith kinda qualifies there - but rest assured, gentle reader, there is one far-sighted visionary who's noticed the inherent problems of living in the murky mists of history, and has decided what it needs is an information superhighway driven through it. And here she is (again):

[center][/center]

The trio of Faith the Barbarian, Buffy the Serious One, and Tara the Main Character Of The Story stood, a brisk and umbrella-huddled walk later, outside of a building that had 'Wizard's Workshop' written all over it - or rather, it had, until someone had nailed up a sign over the writing, declaring: 'Willow of Rosenberg, President & CEO, League of Big Knowledge Women (applications for membership welcome)'.

"Willow's a wizard?" Tara asked. "I-I've heard it's not wise to meddle in the affairs of such people..."

"Nah, o-old Giles the T-Tweed lets her use the w-workshop while h-he's o-off travelling," Faith said, her speech hampered somewhat by her chattering teeth, which is what happens when you refuse to compromise your principles re: wearing chainmail bikinis and naught else when the mercury's dropped so far it's come out the bottom of the thermometer and dribbled away through a gap in the floorboards. Also the substitution of wool for metal is proving main vexing in the rain, since if it shrinks any more this story'll become R rated just for the sight of her, not that she minds that terribly (nor would much of the audience, truth be told, ye be a randy crowd and no mistake).

Erratic signage aside, the workshop was still a set designer's nightmare - and not just the kind where you show up to work naked (though maybe that too, with Faith standing outside of it), but the full-on crazy kind you get after you've eaten some strange cheese before going to sleep, and maybe done acid as well. The two storeys seemed to be derived from different buildings, with the upper kept from sliding off the lower only by force of will and a handful of metal brackets, the shingles on the roof were of every conceivable size and shape apart from 'the same as the one next to it', and formed a pattern best described as the kind of jigsaw puzzle Cthulhu would while away the hours with, a rickety tower sprouted from one corner like an adventurous mushroom, and was weighed down by so many aerials, antennae, astronomical instruments and a full-sized telescope poking out of holes in its walls and peaked roof that it was probably far too unstable to exist, and will have to be done in CGI after filming's done on the rest of the building, and even the humble brickwork looked like the proceeds of a touring robbery of every quarry in the known world. It says something about the quirkiness (Tara had indeed hit on the perfect word) of the sight before our disbelieving eyes that the only part of it that could be said to be normal was a small notice pasted to the front door, reading: 'No frogs, frog-related inquiries, or requests for spells requiring frogs or frog-like products. PS that goes for toads as well.'

The three were just debating which of their number would press the strange nodule that could possibly have been a doorbell, and suffer whatever consequences may eventuate, when they were approached from the flank by the morose-looking young woman from Scene Four, still clutching her enormous book beneath the shelter of her equally enormous coat.

"Can I help you?" she asked cautiously, no doubt unused to visitors, let alone any looking like Faith, unless they were looking for the nearby Ye Pink Pussycat Club of Licentious Cabaret and had gotten lost. She relaxed, cringed, and did a double-take respectively as Buffy, Faith, and Tara turned around.

"We've got a job for you, Red!" Faith declared heartily. "We need to get to the North Pole in..." She glanced at her wrist, forgetting that it was several centuries before the wristwatch would be invented, then shook her head. "...real soon, and you're the only one crazy enough to guide us without demanding a stupid load of money. Interested?"

"North Pole?" Willow frowned. "Axial or magnetic?"

"We've been through that, no-one's discovered-" Buffy began.

"Actually I've got some ancient philosophical scrolls that go into the subject in some detail, I could show you if you'd like?" Willow countered hopefully.

"Later," Faith shook her head. "And by later I mean no. North Pole, can you do it, or do we put a collar on B and hope that makes her a guide dog?"

"Wait, what?" Buffy yelped.

"Uh," Tara spoke up, capturing the redhead's attention. "W-we really need to get there. My brother may be in trouble, and it's possible there's a scheme most dastardly underway. We really need your help," she finished, unwittingly giving Willow both barrels of an imploring stare that had roughly the same effect as tying her up and dragging her wherever it wanted her to go.

"I can help!" she replied quickly. "I know a lot about geography, and transport, and cartography, and, well, anything that doesn't have to do with frogs- it doesn't have to do with frogs, does it?" she asked, in a sudden panic.

"No," Tara shook her head. "No-one's mentioned frogs in any capacity, so far as I know."

"Whew!" Willow mopped her suddenly-sweaty brow. "Okay then, let's go do whatever it is you want me to do, shall we? Anything at all," she added dazedly, as Tara smiled at her.

"Do you need to get anything?" Buffy asked, pointing to the workshop.

"No, better not," Willow said, taking her by the arm and steering her away. "Believe me, oh, the weather inside is frightful."

"Don't you mean outside?" Tara asked.

"No, inside," Willow said. "I was doing an experiment in practical meteorology, and it kind of got out of hand. Luckily I've got everything I need right here." She heaved her enormous book up and into Faith's arms, and flipped through its pages as the disgruntled barbarian staggered beneath its weight.

"North Pole, here we go, disambiguation page. You don't mean the North Pole pole dancing club, do you?"

"N-no," Tara shook her head. "The one where they handle Christmas. Your grimoire's got, uh... dancing clubs in it?"

"It's only slightly grim. North Pole (Christmas), here we go." She flipped through the pages. "It's got everything in it - or it will do. That's the idea, anyway, to collect all the knowledge in the world into one easy-to-access encyclopaedia."

"You got an extra 'a' in there," Faith pointed out, trying to wedge a knee beneath the tome to take some of the weight off her elbows.

"No, this is medieval fantasy, so we're all talking British," Willow muttered, concentrating on finding the right page. "Didn't you notice your accent?"

"I just thought I was coming down with a cold."

"Here we are," Willow jabbed at a page triumphantly. "North Pole, location of specialised paraphernalia and trained artisans involved in the creation of Christmas. Sub-heading, directions... we need to go west."

"...you didn't look up 'West Pole' by mistake, did you?" Buffy asked after a moment.

"The docks are to the west," Willow pointed out. "We'll need a ship."

"Right," Buffy said quickly. "I knew that."

"Luckily I was just down there, and thus I saw one ship come sailing in-"

"Not three?"

"No, one," Willow frowned. "Cut to the next scene!"

[center][/center]

Yes ma'am!

[center][/center]

"You want to go where?" Captain Cordelia Chase, the dreaded Fashionista of the Seven Seas, asked, casting a sceptical eye over the eccentric quartet lined up on the gangplank.

"North Pole," Willow, Tara, and Faith said.

"Not the West Pole," Buffy added. "I'm just saying. It's an easy mistake to make, really."

"As in the North Pole, hundreds and hundreds of miles through uncharted oceans the likes of which even daring and fearless nautical lasses of great repute such as myself have never ventured into?"

"That's the one," Willow nodded, missing Cordelia's sarcastic tone by a nautical mile. "Not the whole way, of course - according to my records there's a sleigh station a few miles south of the pole, that'll be far enough. From there we'll just go dashing through the snow in a one-horse closed sleigh."

"Open sleigh, surely?" Buffy asked.

"Not in this weather - if it's cold here, imagine what it'll be like in the Arctic."

"Normally I'd say you're crazy, but sure, the crew could do with a change of scenery," the Captain shrugged, standing aside to let the party on board.

"That was easy," Faith mused.

"Shush!" Buffy hissed. "Don't draw attention to the convenient plot contrivance, or it'll take us all day to find another ship."

"Lucky for you we often go up north where the rivers freeze during the winter," Cordelia went on, oblivious to the shortcomings in her realism being noted, "so we've got an icebreaker."

"Like, a smaller expeditionary vessel that launches from the main one?" Willow asked, quill at the ready to note down anything that looked even vaguely like knowledge.

"No, him," Cordelia said, pointing at an eight-foot-tall giant with a leather harness fitted over the shoulders of his fur coat, and carrying a colossal hammer. "Say hello, Olaf!"

"Hello Olaf," the giant replied cordially.

"Who's he?" Willow asked.

"The icebreaker," Cordelia explained. "We lower him down in front of the prow, he swings the hammer, you get the idea."

"That works?"

"Let's assume it does. Now, do you four want separate cabins?"

"We don't mind rooming together," Buffy said, indicating Faith and herself. "I'm used to her."

"She loves me," Faith grinned.

"Separate beds, please?" Buffy added.

"Hokay," Cordelia said, with a wave of a hand as if to indicate that their problems were theirs alone and they were welcome to them. "You two together as well?"

"Uh, w-we could share a r-room," Tara said hesitantly. "If you don't mind?" she added quickly, giving Willow an apologetic glance.

"No, I mean yes, we could," Willow nodded. "I'm okay with that, provided you are. You are, right? I mean, you don't have to, if you'd rather not, you don't have to be fine with it just because I am, there's no pressure to be fine."

"No, I am fine," Tara insisted earnestly. "Really, I just didn't want to assume you were, when maybe you'd, um, rather not-"

"Oh no, I'd rather," Willow assured her. "No 'not' attached in any way, so long as it's okay with you, of course, I wouldn't want to impose."

"You really wouldn't be," Tara smiled shyly. "I'd like the company... i-if you wouldn't mind-"

"Yes, alright, we get the idea," Cordelia interrupted them. "One cabin, done. Weigh anchor!"

"Pretty heavy!" a deckhand shouted back, testing the chain.

[center][/center]

We're sorry, dear readers, we really are - that pun was low even by the sorely wanting standards we've established for ourselves thus far. So let us skip the technicalities of clewing the mains'l and jibing afore the wind, leeward-fashion, d'ye see, and all that nautical jargon that's open to scurrilous double-entendres, and skip straight to bedtime, whereupon we find Willow and Tara sharing a cabin. Oh, no, wait, we promised a scene with Faith for the foot fetish enthusiasts, didn't we? Alright, it won't take a moment, and those of you who aren't into that sort of thing can use the time to go get a coffee.

[center][/center]

"I'm only doing this," Buffy pointed out archly, as she kneaded away at Faith's tense instep, "because massage is a valuable skill and I need the practice."

Faith looked back over her shoulder and gave Buffy an impish wink. She was stretched out belly-down on one of the two beds in their shared cabin, all agleam in the firelight (let's assume they've got a cabin with its own stove, unlikely as that seems), having discarded her boots, and incidentally her chainmail bikini top - truly, this is the part of the video that'll get worn out by repeated rewinding and re-viewing, and no mistake.

"You just keep telling yourself that, honeybunch," Faith replied, settling her head back atop her crossed arms with a contented sigh, and even more flagrant disregard for historically-accurate speech than usual.

[center][/center]

Promised and delivered - now, we were about to check in with Willow and Tara, neither of whom are quite as naked as all that (yet), but as much as we wouldn't say so to Faith's face, for fear of hurting her feelings (or sending her into a berserk rage such as might demolish the place), we all know who we're really reading this to see, don't we? Darn tootin'.

[center][/center]

"So," Tara said, sitting on her bed in her nightgown, with her back politely (and, privately, somewhat reluctantly) turned while Willow changed into hers, "the, uh, League of Big Knowledge Women? The sign, on your workshop?"

"Oh, that," Willow cringed slightly. "It's nothing, it's just a thing - no, wait, that's a contradiction, it's not no-thing, it's definitely a thing, but nothing important really..."

"I, uh... I thought it sounded interesting," Tara ventured, risking a brief glance over her shoulder, and allowing her gaze to discreetly settle on discovering Willow had finished changing. "Is it a guild of some kind?"

"Uh, yes," Willow said, visibly surprised at the turn the conversation had taken, as if any response besides 'What kind of dumb idea is that?' was strange and alien to her. She sat on the edge of her bed, while Tara lifted her legs over her bed and swivelled around to face the redhead.

"Yes," Willow repeated, hoping conversation would cover the lingering and frankly suggestive way in which she had gazed at Tara in motion. "It's a guild, kind of. A kind of guild. Like the big ones, stonemasons, blacksmiths, fanfic writers, barbarians, only, well, not, insofar as the 'big' goes."

"But you're the president?" Tara asked.

"I'm the everything," Willow admitted. "It doesn't seem to be catching on. I thought it'd be a good idea, you know? Because every other craft and pursuit has their own guild, there's even an Individualist Guild, which seems kind of strange when you think about it, but the Guild of Wizards, Scholars, and Applied Thaumaturgists doesn't admit women, and that just seemed unfair, since we've got just as much to offer the world in terms of brainpower, don't we?"

"Uh-huh," Tara nodded encouragingly, privately reflecting that they did indeed, and she was proving it by having enough brainpower to adore Willow's enthusiastic narrative and listen to what she was saying, which was no mean feat given how much mental space the adoration was co-opting for itself.

"So I started my own," Willow explained. "Although in hindsight, it might've been a good idea to hire someone from the Guild of Guild Namers, rather than just come up with 'big knowledge women' by myself."

"I-I like it," Tara offered, with a shy smile, surprising and delighting Willow for the second time. "It's got charm. Um. A-and, you do know a lot. Your book, I mean... You seem to have everything in there."

"It's a work in progress," Willow admitted with a modest blush. "I don't know if it'll ever really be finished. Although, it's kind of the point that it never will be."

"You're still writing it?"

"The idea is that everyone writes it," Willow said, leaning forwards, and missing Tara's inadvertent but not-inclined-to-argue glance down the loose neck of her nightgown in her enthusiasm. "It's called Wikipedia, it stands for Willow's Interesting Knowledge Index... pedia. I added the 'pedia' just because it sounded better that way. I spent two weeks just calling it Wiki, but people kept thinking it was a basket of some kind. Everything I learn I write down, and the idea I had was that everyone else would also write down everything they learned, and eventually you'd have all the knowledge in the world, and... and no-one would ever have to not know anything ever again. Like, if you were about to have an argument over anything, or a dispute, or a war, you could just look it up, and there'd be the answer, and there'd be no reason to argue. I just think everyone would be a lot happier if they never had to not know something they wanted to know, you know?"

"I... yes," Tara nodded. "I do."

"Only it's not really working out," Willow admitted, her shoulders slumping in a manner that made Tara immediately want to hug her. "One, the whole idea is that the entire human race contributes knowledge to it, and so far the only person who's really bothered to write anything down is me. And two, on the few occasions I have managed to get some other people at least thinking about contributing something, they mostly get into fights over whose version of whatever they're talking about is right. It's probably not going to work."

"I-I think it's a good idea," Tara said encouragingly, and truthfully, though it was also true that she'd have said anything to cheer Willow up. "And I... I think it's really brave of you. You know, that you're trying. Most people don't, they just let themselves stay ignorant, but you're learning, and sharing it, and even, even if it's difficult... don't give up."

"I... won't," Willow said, venturing a tiny smile. She turned away and pulled back the thin blankets on her bed to hide a blush. Tara leaned across their quite small cabin and put out the candles, followed Willow - her action, that is, getting into bed, not followed Willow in getting into her bed, convenient as that would be - and looked across the gap between them with her head propped up on the pillow. Willow was a pensive but pleased silhouette in the moonlight coming through the cabin's single porthole.

"Could I..." she said, hesitating mid-thought. "That is, if you think it'd be okay... I know a few things, I could, perhaps, tell you them?"

"Really?" Willow exclaimed, a full octave higher than usual. "Yes, absolutely, that'd be wonderful. Do you want to join the League? You totally can. You don't have to - I mean, if you'd rather not, it's not like it's prestigious or anything - no pressure-"

"I'd like that too," Tara smiled. "At least, if I qualify... a-as a 'big knowledge woman', you know?"

"You do!" Willow said quickly. "You're very smart, I can tell that already, just from our conversation now, and the ones we had earlier today that weren't important enough to the present plotline to be written down if this was a short story."

"What a strange thing to say."

"Yeah it is," Willow frowned, then shook her head, dismissing the thought. "There's no formal test for being judged to be endowed with big-knowledge qualities anyway - although if there was I'm sure you'd pass - and of course you're a woman. There's no test for that either, I can just see by, well, seeing that you're a endowed with womanly... um, qualities," she finished with a blush, as her higher brain realised how her imagination was luring the perfectly innocent sentence into its boudoir and introducing it to all manner of naughty delights.

With Willow trailing off into secretly scandalised wordlessness, and Tara possibly pursuing her own line of thought regarding endowments and the uses to which they might be put, the pair lapsed into a comfortable, if blush-rich, silence that lasted for several minutes, until:

"It's, uh," Willow ventured at last. "It's kind of chilly, do you want one of my blankets, maybe?"

"Oh, n-no," Tara shook her head. "No, you must be cold too, I wouldn't want to... I'll be alright."

"I wish I knew how Faith got a fire in her cabin," Willow griped.

"Y-yeah."

There was a further pause, while the collective wishes of the audience worked their subtle wiles upon both Willow and Tara's thought processes.

"Perhaps-" "Maybe-" they both said at once.

"Sorry," Willow amended immediately.

"No, go ahead," Tara insisted.

"It was nothing, you go."

"I just... silly idea, that was all, what were you saying?"

"Um..." Willow hesitated, blushing brightly enough that she actually became visible. "Well, it's just a thing I read somewhere ages ago, and wrote down, that in the wild, when you need to keep warm... it's probably... I mean, no need, really..."

"You mean, um," Tara said. "B-body heat?"

"Well, well yeah," Willow said, striving to sound off-hand and casual, and succeeding about as well as Faith trying to infiltrate a nunnery. "But of course that's for proper life-and-death situations, it's not like we're going to actually freeze here..."

"No of course not," Tara agreed. "L-like you said, we're not out in the wilderness, it's not a matter of survival, so it'd just be... um, comfort..."

"Yeah," Willow nodded.

"If we, um..."

"Shared..."

"...a bed?" Tara ventured, surprised that her stutter hadn't kicked in worse than it did.

"In an entirely chaste way," Willow insisted quickly.

"Of course!"

"And I'm not saying I have any objection to the idea," the redhead went on, her speech patterns gathering steam like some kind of large, heavy, steam-powered vehicle that hadn't been invented yet, "I'm just pointing out the, uh, well, how it might be a bit awkward, but on the other hand might not, and there'd be no awkwardness from me, no siree, I don't mean to imply in any way that there's anything about you that'd be awkward to share a bed with, quite the rever- uh, um, re, uh, reverence, I was saying, it's a matter of reverence for one's personal space, and I'm totally happy to, um, just if you felt like, like... uh?" She finally ran out of puff, and was in the middle of taking a deep breath when she felt the mattress tilt, a second load of blankets flop over the top of those already covering her, and the resulting double-layer move as Tara slid in beneath them next to her.

"B-better?" she asked nervously, her shoulder nudging up against Willow as they lay side by side.

"Much!" Willow squeaked. "Uh, ahem. Yes, much better. I'm feeling toastier already."

"Me too."

"Thank you."

"Thank you too."

"Heh."

"Mm."

Silence.

"It, uh," Willow said at last. "It's kind of... on one side, I'm warmer than the other..."

"Me too," Tara agreed.

"...so maybe if we," Willow went on, shuffling around to lie on her side, facing Tara with her arms demurely folded across her chest.

"I see what you mean," Tara said, mirroring her. Their hands ended up touching in the cosy - and quite small - space between them as they lay facing one another, and with a shared shy chuckle they linked their fingers.

"Much much better," Tara said softly.

"Definitely very much so," Willow nodded.

"Well..."

"Yeah."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

"Sweet dreams."

"You too."

And thus ends this tender yet sweetly chaste scene. Though if we were to drop back in five minutes later, we'd find the pair of them, now fast asleep, cuddled tightly up against one another in a manner that isn't at all chaste. If their expressions are anything to go by, though, they're having very sweet dreams indeed.

[center][/center]

Aww, they're so cute! Love is in the air, gossips, and no mistake about it - though one wonders who'll win the blushing contest that's inevitable once they wake up to discover that their bodies have their own ideas about sharing warmth involving the entangling of thighs. For the sake of brevity - this is supposed to be a short story, after all - and convenience, let us then skip ahead a bit, the better to avoid all those tedious Hobbits-walking scenes of travel without end, to Some Time Later, when the good vessel Armadillo - its sails sagging under the weight of ice (in which some wag has written 'clean me', naturally), its oars scraping against the frozen Arctic waters to port and starboard, Olaf suspended from the figurehead patiently hammering out a path with his mighty hammer, and the various dolphins and porpoises and so on accompanying the ship now doing so huddled in dolphin-sized parkas and soggy fur-lined coats - draws near the fabled North Pole...

[center][/center]

"Pirates!" bellowed Cordelia, demonstrating the kind of volume that made her taunts the terror of her fashionably-challenge peers at finishing school. "Stand to!"

"Stand to what?" Buffy demanded, rushing up on deck to see what all the fuss was about.

"According to this," Willow said, pointing triumphantly to a page of her tome of universal wisdom, "it means 'take your assigned station in preparation to defend against enemy attack,' is that right?" She and Tara stood suspiciously close together, suggesting that whatever embarrassment they'd felt at discovering their nightgowns' tendency to come amiss during sleep had resolved itself to the satisfaction of all, and were looking rather adorable in matching greatcoats and winter hoods.

"I like her, she can stay," Cordelia nodded. Various crewmen scuttled about arming crossbows and ballistas and so forth, but since they're just extras it's not as if they're going to be swinging the tide of the battle, so they can be safely ignored. Meanwhile a daunting horde of ne'er-do-wells in matching helmets and heavy winter coats were storming across the ice - give or take frequent pauses to pick themselves up after tripping over, slipping up, crashing into each other, or winding up sliding down a slope in the wrong direction - towards the ship, more or less.

"Right, just what I need to keep me warm!" Faith declared, theatrically swinging a broadsword she'd magically found somewhere. "Deploy the ship's armour!"

"I'm sorry, the what?" Cordelia asked.

"Don't you have, I don't know, some kind of armour plates that appear out of nowhere and turn the ship into a steel-plated dreadnought?" Faith asked, looking crestfallen.

"No, and what a preposterous idea," the Captain snorted.

"Well why's the ship called 'the Armadillo' then?" Faith demanded.

"Because... I like armadillos?"

"That's... but-" Faith spluttered. "No, wait, that's silly! You only did that so there'd be an armadillo in the story somewhere, that makes no narrative sense whatsoever! You might as well just have 'coincidentally' had a trader with a cargo of gold and frankincense and whatever that other one is with the weird spelling-"

"As a matter of fact, I do-" a portly merchant who happened to be among the ship's complement spoke up.

"Don't you dare say it!" Faith shouted, waving her sword vigorously.

"Hey, don't blame me! Those two," Cordelia shot back, directing an accusing finger in Willow and Tara's direction, "have got the words wrong on every single Christmas carol lyric they've tried to recite so far. At least I did my bit."

"Well I'm going to be having words with your union after this," Faith glared darkly. "We've all got better things to do, but you don't see me dodging my narrative responsibilities - you think I like wearing a chainmail bikini when it's thirty-five below absolute zero up here? I've lost three tops already this morning just from my nipples slicing through them, and-"

"'Scuse me, luv?" the leader of the pirates - easily identifiable by being the only one whose helmet didn't cover his face - asked, tapping Faith on the shoulder.

"What?" she spun around, finding the deck crowded with foes. "Where the hell did you come from?"

"We boarded the ship," the leader explained. "While you and that bint was arguing."

"I am not a bint!" Cordelia protested. "And we weren't ready, so go away and board the ship again, and this time do it properly."

"How about, no?" the leader grinned. "Men, get 'em!"

"You asked for it!" Faith bellowed, kicking him soundly in the junk and hurling herself into combat with the remaining pirates, who obligingly attacked her one or at most two at a time, while the others stood around in a threatening manner trying to look like they were eager to get to grips, but not actually interfering until the current contender had been knocked down, knocked out, thrown overboard, punched, kicked, headbutted, in one case sent flying by a pair of boobs to the face, or otherwise put out of commission.

"Hey sis," one of the pirates said, sidling over to Tara while waiting his turn to be part of the Big Fight Scene.

"What- Donnie?" she asked. The pirate lifted his helmet briefly, hoping no-one was watching this minor violation of Hired Goon code regarding proper attire for Minions Attacking The Enemy.

"How are you? I wasn't sure you got my letter."

"Uh, there wasn't a return address."

"Oh, right. Sorry, the Dark Lord vetoed us getting letters sent here. I had to sneak out to post that one to you."

"So," Tara hazarded a guess, "these are the 'Dark Lord's' minions, are they?"

"That's right," Donnie nodded helpfully. "Dark Lord got word of a ship, figured it'd be heroes, and sent us out, under guise of piracy."

"Um, pardon me," Willow interrupted. "Hi, sorry. Willow, big knowledge woman."

"Donnie MacLae, hired goon." They shook hands, ducking as a pirate sailed overhead.

"Nice to meet you. I was wondering," Willow went on, "isn't it all a bit, I don't know, depressing, being a Hired Goon? I mean, take her for instance." She pointed at Faith, who had picked up a pirate by the ankles and was using him to hit several other pirates. "I wouldn't want to fight her, but it seems like your whole job description would be getting sent out to fight people like her."

"There are good and bad days," Donnie admitted. "You get special training at being beaten up, and it actually doesn't happen that often. I've been talking to some of the older goons here, one of them just a few months from qualifying as a Servile Lackey, if he gets good grades from the Dark Lord in the employee review, and they say you usually only get one day of Being Beaten Up By A Hero for every few months you spend helping a villain get an Evil Scheme up and running. Some of those schemes are pretty elaborate, building the headquarters alone can take up to a year, and the union doesn't let villains outsource construction."

"You sound like you're doing well," Tara noted. "Mum will be pleased, you know how she worries about you."

"Tell her I'm sorry I didn't send a Christmas card," Donnie said apologetically. "The mail veto, again. I'll try to get some time off work to visit in a month or so. If you guys don't thwart the Dark Lord now, that is."

"Any advice on the thwarting?" Willow piped up.

"Uh, sorry ma'am, since you're technically heroes, I shouldn't help... sorry," he shrugged helplessly to Tara. "If it's any help, our orders are to take you into custody for the Dark Lord to gloat over personally, and I promise our jailer falls asleep a lot with the keys on a ring you'll be able to reach with a broom handle left lying around in the cell. Our jail overseer's really by-the-book."

"Huh," Willow frowned in thought. "Okay, in that case..." She beckoned Tara, and whispered into her ear for a moment.

"That sounds alright," she agreed. "Faith!" she called out.

"What?"

"We're surrendering!"

"About bleedin' time!" the pirate leader shouted. Due to the prolonged nature of the fight, and the script not having thrown any new ideas in since the beginning and there being a limited number of pirates to fight before recycling became necessary, he'd been kicked in the crotch seventeen times already, and even Faith had to admit that it had started to lose its comedy value once it got into double figures, though she had pressed on in hopes of a revival of interest from the audience once it became comedically excessive.

[center][/center]

Truly, 'tis perilous being a minor villain - at least when you're the boss, the story finishes once you've been defeated, so it can't go on happening. So now, thanks to ingenuity on Willow's part and bloody-minded adherence to tradition on the part of their captors, we find our heroic foursome having been conveniently transported, free of charge and without needing to find the way themselves, to the nefarious Dark Lord's hideout, established temporarily within the North Pole workshop. And, one by-the-numbers jailbreak later...

[center][/center]

_________________
Chris Cook

Through the Looking-glass - Every world needs a Willow and Tara.

Right, where were we? Playwrights of yore never had to deal with post-length limits - although, truth be told, if their works ran uncomfortably long, they were more likely to be pursued by mobs of bored and vengeful drama critics, and be lucky not to wind up with their head on a pike as a warning to nascent Hollywoode bards that 'three hours' doesn't automatically equal 'epic'. Onwards...

[center][/center]

The heroic and now-furtive foursome snuck through the mysterious Dark Lord's secret lair, set as it was within the North Pole workshop, each adhering to their own personal idea of stealth. Faith, a graduate of the King's Own SWAT Squad, was proceeding by a series of crouching leaps, muttering 'hut hut hut' to herself for no perceptible reason and trying to hold her broadsword as if it were a projectile weapon; Buffy, having been through all of this before, was merely strolling along in her wake, mentally tallying the number of 'huts' for later use in the next argument to break out; Willow, fearful of discovery to the point of paranoia and pursuant to her tome's section on disguise to the letter, had stolen a minion's helmet and uniform conveniently left lying around, covered that with a gigantic hooded cloak, and then concealed herself in an empty crate, in which she awkwardly waddled along trying to keep up with the group; and Tara, having gotten a word of advice from Donnie, who indeed seemed to have found his calling as a Hired Goon and become a happier person because of it, had simply put on a white coat and was carrying a clipboard, secure in the knowledge that this permitted her to go anywhere and do anything without being questioned.

Making their way thus by instinct and blind luck, they soon found themselves in a large chamber wherein all manner of arcane and frankly worrying-looking devices were arrayed about the figure of a man in clerical robes, who was in a state of disassembly, although seemingly not as inconvenienced as this would usually entail - at any rate, his head, resting on a workbench while his body was being slowly assembled some distance away, maintained an expression of bland amiability, with the occasional involuntary twitch when one of the minions working on his body accidentally dropped a spanner into his neck and had to rummage around his torso at arm's length getting it out again.

"What in the name of Tolkien is that?" Faith asked, crouched behind a row of cabinets and speaking in a loud whisper which the guards, knowing their place in this kind of scene, politely pretended not to be able to hear.

"I-I, uh, I think that might be Santa Claus," Tara guessed.

"That?" Buffy said, so bemused she forgot to be historically British and lapsed into an American accent. "I was... y'know, funny thing, I was expecting more red in the outfit..."

"Not until the 19th or 20th Century," Willow supplied, possibly proving that anachronism was communicable.

"So that's what they're here to steal, right? Okay, Red, Blondie, wait here; B, gimme the hammer and some nails."

"What for?"

"We're going to nail it down," Faith explained, as if speaking to a child. "I know it was a whole sea voyage ago, but it can't have been more than fifteen minutes since we went over this, if something's nailed down, it's impossible to-"

"Guards!" a voice shrieked from behind them, causing everyone to jump, in Willow's case right through the lid of her crate.

"Go for the Santa guy!" Faith shouted, as everyone in the room suddenly started running around excitedly, in most cases causing more confusion than it solved.

"Seize them!" the shouting voice followed up, imparting some sense of purpose on the ambulatory minions, but by that point Willow and Tara were huddled behind Santa's body, which Faith was holding hostage with a broadsword to its neck, while Buffy obligingly held the head in position to at least make it look like that was a threat.

"That will do you no good!" the shouty voice boomed, stepping into view at the far end of the room and revealing itself to be a haughtily-sneering woman dressed in a black outfit so comprehensively covered with spikes, sharp edges, and improbable evil-looking flourishes that she had to move very carefully to avoid hurting herself, or causing the whole thing to collapse.

"You cannot escape," she went on, suppressing a villainous. "You have strayed into my lair, and now you- Tara?"

"Anya?"

"Oh hi," the Dark Lord said, suddenly all smiles. "Sorry, I didn't see you there."

"You're the evil villain?" Tara asked incredulously.

"Yup!"

"You know her?" Willow, Buffy, and Faith all asked at once.

"We were in school together," Tara explained. "She got exiled from her clan for causing it to fall into disrepute."

"Why, what'd she do?" Buffy asked.

"Uh, well you know all those - really annoying, by the way - jokes about Scottish people being tight with money?"

"Yeah," Willow nodded. "A-and I totally agree, they're a scurrilous stereotype, and shouldn't be given the time of day, so there."

"Thanks sweetie," Tara smiled. "Well, she caused them."

"It's not my fault you people are so frivolous with your hard-earned money," Anya scowled. "You should take better care of it. Money needs to be looked after, and... and hugged, and loved, and when you hold it close to you, you can inhale, and fill yourself with the scent of it, and gently, tenderly, stroke it over your-"

"Point taken, thanks!" Faith interrupted her before she could lose touch with reality completely. "So what's with the theft, then? Ransom?"

"Pfft! No," Anya snorted derisively. "Too much hassle, and ransom's a one-off thing. Steady income streams, that's the game you want to be in. No, see, this guy," she gestured at the semi-assembled Santa, "is part of a new angle they've come up with for Christmas. Until now it's just been carols and merriment and stuffing yourself silly with turkey and pudding, but from this year onwards, Christmas will mean presents!"

"This thing's a present?" Willow wondered, taking a doubting glance at Santa. "Who for? Don't get me wrong, he looks very nice and... jolly, I guess, but if I were going to get someone as a present, I'd rather it be someone more... um..." She tried very hard not to glance at Tara, and to think of words other than 'blonde,' 'beautiful,' and 'pleasingly bosomed,' but had to give up.

"You done?" Anya asked. "Santa won't be a present, he gives presents. At the stroke of midnight, all over the world, he'll come down the chimney and leave presents for everyone to discover on Christmas morning."

"What if they chimney's too small for him?" Tara asked. "They're often fairly small."

"Or what if you've got a stove, with just a pipe to let the smoke out?" Buffy added.

"Or if you just keep warm by cuddling each other like those two did last night?" Faith finished, jerking a thumb Willow and Tara's way.

"Really?" Anya grinned. "Go Tara, knew you'd land a cutie one day. Anyway, no, don't be silly. Santa Claus is a very sophisticated construct - think about it, if he can visit every single home in the world all in one night, well, even accounting for time zones, that's more difficult than just squeezing his butt down a stove pipe."

"But why do you want to stop him?" Tara asked.

"I don't," Anya said, frowning as though it should've been obvious. "I'm just going to tweak him a little. So instead of delivering presents, he'll deliver little cards saying 'Come buy your presents at Anya-Mart, the happiest retail mega-conglomerate in the world. Santa Claus will be the greatest advertising tool in history!"

"You're a few centuries early on that," Buffy muttered.

"Quiet, you," Anya snapped. "Anyway, there's nothing you can do to stop me. I've got my minions surrounding this room, so there's no way you can escape."

"And there's no way you'll sell anything so long as we've got Santa's head," Faith countered, snatching it from Buffy. "I can't see a fat guy with no head going down well as a marketing campaign, can you?"

"Curses," Anya scowled. "True, the headless demographic is unprofitably limited. It seems we're in a... a... what's a country we've discovered so far that has stand-offs?"

"Perhaps," Tara suggested, "we could... um, compromise? I'm just saying, at the moment nobody gets what they want, so, maybe...?"

"I'm listening," Anya allowed.

"W-well," Tara pressed on, smiling nervously as she realised she was now the centre of attention, "what if, instead of people getting presents for Christmas, people give presents?"

"I don't follow," Anya frowned.

"Oh," Tara deflated.

"No, I get it," Willow spoke up. "People would still get presents given to them, so they'd be happy at getting something, fulfilling the purpose of the whole Santa scheme in the first place - the original one, I mean, not Anya-Mart - but since they'd be giving each other presents instead of just waiting for them to be delivered by some mythical figure, they'd first be buying the presents from somewhere."

"Anya-Mart!" Anya said happily.

"Sure," Willow shrugged, tagging Anya's single-minded pursuit of global monopoly as a secondary problem just now. "But it's a matter of, of how you go about it, see? Instead of Santa making people buy things for themselves, you'd have him serving as a, as a kind of symbol for gift-giving. I know I wouldn't mind buying a gift, if I was going to give it to- uh, someone, I cared about, a lot. Really."

"I don't know," Anya said warily. "It seems a bit based in sentiment and feelings and all that. I've always liked the cold, ruthless simplicity of sweet, raw, seductive capitalism, so big and strong and it just grabs you and you melt into it, and claw its back as it thrusts-"

"No!" Willow yelped. "I'm sure it'll work, I promise. You'll have all the capitalism you want, and Christmas will still be about generosity and friendliness, rather than just buying junk for yourself."

"I'm not sure I'm convinced," Anya said, perturbed at having been interrupted just as her financial dreams had been turning wet.

"It's not cost-effective to be attacked by a crazy barbarian with a broadsword," Faith pointed out. "How agile are you in that ridiculous villain get-up?"

"I'm convinced," Anya decided. "Gift-giving for all!"

[center][/center]

Well thank heavens for that - we can't very well have a Christmas story ending with a bloodbath, can we? And if a note of capitalism has been allowed to sneak into the spirit of Christmas, well, surely it won't amount to anything much? Oh well, at least everyone's happy now. Aren't they? Let's see, as we let our gaze settle one last time upon Willow and Tara, the former having just finished watching with interest the final stages of Santa construction from Mission Control, and now wandering out to find the latter seated beneath a large fir tree which someone, in a move which will seem perfectly natural in a few centuries' time, had decorated with tinsel and baubles and all manner of gay finery. That's 'gay' in the cheerful, happy sense, rather than sexual identity, though given the adorably smitten glance shared by the two as the redhead sits down, it could quickly become a conveniently multi-purpose descriptor...

[center][/center]

"I'm glad that's all over with," Willow said, as Tara helpfully, and not a little eagerly, draped her cloak over the redhead's shoulders, allowing the two of them to huddle together for warmth and personal enjoyment.

"Anya's not bad," Tara noted. "She's just kind of... fixed in her ways. You just need to reminder her every so often that there are things in life other than money. Oh, here's your book back," she added, heaving Willow's tome of knowledge across their laps.

"Thanks," Willow smiled radiantly. "Lots of useful information about the building and maintenance of mythological figures to add tonight. His sleigh's got something called a 'flux capacitor' in it. I'll have to try to find out more information on that. They have to have special high-speed reindeer to make it work, somehow." A blaring shout rang out across the valley in which the workshop was situated.

"Hark! The herald angels sing," the redhead noted.

"Yeah, they've been doing that every half-hour to mark shift changes," Tara said. "I always thought they'd have nicer voices. Oh hey! You got a lyric right!"

"I did!" Willow smiled, pleased with herself. "Well that's that taken care of. Now what?"

"I... uh," Tara smiled shyly, opening Willow's book to a particular page. "I made an entry."

"Really? Thanks!" Willow bounced gleefully. "New knowledge, let me at it! Here we go... Mistletoe, huh?"

"My mother's a witch," Tara explained. "She taught me a lot about plants. I thought I'd start with mistletoe."

"This is great," Willow breathed, running her finger down the list of uses, cautions, descriptions and surrounding folklore. "Oh look, mistletoe at Christmas! Tradition, meeting under mistletoe... kissing?"

"Uh-huh."

Willow looked up, and noticed for the first time that, from a low branch reaching out to just above Tara's head, someone had hung a sprig of mistletoe. Tara contrived to look innocent.

"That's a real tradition?" Willow asked, grinning.

"Uh-huh," Tara said again. "Scandinavian, originally. I-I'm, uh, hoping it might catch on, in other areas..."

"It just might, at that," Willow agreed, leaning in to kiss her.

[center][/center]

And with that heart-warming scene, we arrive at last, having defeated pirates, inclement weather, rampant capitalism, and historical accuracy - quite soundly thrashed, that last one - at:

THE END

_________________
Chris Cook

Through the Looking-glass - Every world needs a Willow and Tara.

Well, here's my more modest effort, nothing much, just altitle domestic scene, but reclal pelase the family it involves. It's set in 2013, a bit before December 25th. I don't have title picked out.



As a child, Willow Rosenberg-Maclay had spent many days, and evenings, visiting her best friend Xander Harris, and had grown familiar in the process with many Christmas-themed specials. And now, standing in her own kitchen at age 33 and some months, she smiled as she heard the unmistakable voice of Thurl Ravenscroft singing "You're a Mean One, Mister Grinch" from the living room e-center. She was in the middle of assembling a special gift basket for the family of her partner's distant cousin, Glenwood "Gled" Maclay, whose wife Debbie had just returned from the Naval deployment to Bongau-Sibutu that had come up unexpectedly just before her Reserve obligations had ended. Laying aside the last few finishing touches, she went to look in on the rather large group of children watching the vid of How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

Her older child, Summer Maclay-Rosenberg, and her best friend and, the same-age-to-day Lexa Harris, were sitting comfortably on the couch, looking conspiratorial, as best friends are likely to do at age 7. As far on the other end of the couch as he could get, Frank Levinson, %, was acting totally engrossed in his hand-held soccer game, but sneaking enough looks at the TV to follow the action. Her younger child Autumn Rosenberg-Maclay, with her best friends Frank's brother Charles and Kharissa Potashkin, who had lived with Frank and Charles since the death of her mother, all of them 3, were seated cross-legged on the floor watching the cartoon carefully. And Nick Harris, 4, was wandering about the run looking at the decorations and so on; his and Lexa's parents were at the obstetrician's, checking up on a third one coming along.

Willow said softly to herself, remembering a song from a special she had often watched with Xander, "Fun for all, that children call, Their favorite time of year," which abruptly turned to a sharply spoken "Nicky, stop that!" as he came up behind his sister and yanked her pigtails.

"Sorry, Aunt Wil," he yodeled, followed by a "Sorry, Lexa," accompanied by a smirk which showed he didn't really mean it. Her response was a sneer and a comment to Summer "I wish they'd never invented little brothers," in answer to which Frank chimed out, "You got that right!"

Willow turned back into the kitchen with a shrug and a chuckle which continued as a full smile as her beloved Tara Maclay-Rosenberg came through the back door, accompanied by Harmony Levinson, who, like Tara was on the planning committee for the Holiday Horse Show at their country club and had given her a lift to today's meeting. Tara looked much more tired than Harmony, even though she'd been the passenger.

"Hi, baby, hi Harm. Tare, you're a bit later than I expected, and you look frazzled."

"Right now all I can say is, thank Artemis Harmony was driving, since she likes long meetings, because Id'v'e been in no shape. "

"Not turning out to be a holly, jolly, Christmas cavalcade this year I guess."

"It's the usual hitches on a committee, with us being the youngest ones on it it's hard to put our suggestions over," said Harmony, " I wouldn't have signed up but I was feeling antsy just when they asked for volunteers, it was that time of year for me, you know," Willow and Tara exchanged surreptitious glance; Harmony always got a bit restless for the two weeks before the birthrate of her third child Elisa, and for the two weeks after the anniversary of the day she died, and for the 2 weeks in between,” and I am so glad Tara decided to join with me, as many second thoughts as she seems to be having now. But next year, even if they ask specifically, I'll tell them to include me out." She pointed to Tara and said, "Third BFFs stick together . . .."

Tara pointed back "And you have my word on it," she said with a tired smile.

Willow asked, "I hope you have time for a hot cup before you leave," said Willow, getting out three cups and reaching for the pot.

"Well, I'd like that, but aren't you in a hurry to get rid of my three gleeni nixnutzen by now?" she said, taking a seat.

"Your gleeni nixnutzen have been perfect angels this afternoon, so not in a hurry," Willow said, setting down cups for Tara and for their guest.

Tara said, "Okay, that sounds like German, only not. What does it mean?"

"It's Pennsylvania 'Deitsch' for 'little imps,' Harmony said. "Jared Milek's father loved to call us that when any of us were playing over at their house. Wil and I both heard it a lot, for the first couple years sometimes at the same time."

"I keep forgetting that; you two knew each other for almost three years before you became enemies for 16, right?" which brought generalized laughter at the truth of it. Willow thought to herself how interesting that this woman she'd hated for so many years would now have become so close to the greatest love of her life, over their shared interest in horses.

Tara continued, "How's the gift basket coming, sweetie? Looks good from here."

"Basically done, I've still got to find a corner for that three-bar of scented soap, those gold, frankincense, and myrrh like Jared gave us last year, I know Debbie's not the scented soap kind but I figure after 5 months on a ship, even though she's used to that she'll want to pamper herself a bit, plus being evangelicals they'll like the Gospel theme. Then I'll top it off with that stuffed armadillo for little Rebecca, since you said she's so into those old Dean Dillon videos and he uses that as a signature."

"Yes, she's like my mom in more than just the name," said Tara with a sad smile; it always pleased her that her favorite relative and his wife had named their daughter after Tara's mother.

Harmony was looking a bit puzzled, "Umm, gold doesn't smell, well, not to humans anyway, vampires yes but not humans," she said, from memories of her own time as one of the undead.

"Yeah," said Tara, "it's got a scent of amber resin with a touch of saffron, not sure why but it's the one of the three I liked the best."

All three women noticed the sound form the living room had changed. Willow said, "that sounds a bit like the music for the closing credits with the kids singing along. But not quite, there's extra instruments . . . a lot of them."

They stood up rather quickly and walked just as quickly to the doorway. The children were singing the “Welcome Christmas” song, Lexa standing and waving two lighted rods with Summer holding her belt, the others sitting. and the various ornaments which held musical instruments were moving, and playing them, a very realistic sound coming from them, trumpets, harps, guitars, violins, drums, horns, and others, and others were dancing.

"Lexa, what are you doing?" asked Willow.

Summer answered for her, "She can't stop singing Mother, it'll throw off the timing of the magick, she's doing something Aunt Anya did for her with those rods, she found them and brought them over."

“And what exactly are you doing, Summer, besides singing along, and why?” Tara demanded.

“I’m her anchor, Maman, like I’ve seen you guys doing.”

The women also heard, but didn’t completely register, that another voice was coming form behind them, this one speaking the words to the song. However, Harmony, who had retained not only her enhanced vampiric vision but also her seventh sense of the supernatural after she regained her humanity, felt a tingle, and looked back across her shoulder. She didn’t say anything, just tapped Tara on the shoulder, who also turned and nudged Willow, whose head followed.

None of them were frightened, or even all that startled, albeit surprised; anyone who has seen what these women had seen over the years can take a the sudden appearance in a corner of the living room of a tall, distinguished-looking older gentleman with white hair, a mustache, and a friendly expression, who is also transparent, with substantial aplomb, and even some exasperation.

Willow sighed and said, “Mr. Karloff, if these little imps have disturbed your eternal rest, please accept our apologies,” as the music from both the TV and the enchanted ornaments subsided.

“Oh, don’t be too upset with them, my dear. This time for year, the barriers between worlds can be very thin, and I and some others, Bing, Jackie, Guy, it’s quite a list of us, tend to be drawn back towards earth. And at times, in places where the magic of the season is very strong, we can even become visible and audible again for a bit.”

Relieved, Willow and Tara turned to their family, both legal and unofficial. Tara went over to Lexa, knelt down in front of her, and said, “Haven’t your parents talked to you about playing with their things?”

“Yes, Aunt Tare, I’m sorry, I just liked it so much when my Mommy did it and wanted to show Summer and Autumn.”

“I know you’re sorry, but your Mommy and Daddy have to know about this. Will you tell them or do I have to?”

“I’ll tell them.”

Meanwhile, Willow was talking to Summer the same way,” Honey, what we’ve told you about not playing with magick without permission goes for your friends too. This can be serious, you shouldn’t do it, it’s not tattling if someone else is going to do something and you tell us.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Harmony, of course, had to corral her tribe and remind them, “And this is another one of those things you never discuss with your friends, unless you know they already know about things like this,” to which they all nodded.

From his place in the corner, Boris Karloff’s shade said, “I can see the magic here, and it’s of two kinds, the spectacular kind, yes, but more importantly, also the best kind. Well, ladies and gentlemen, I have other errands to run. Happy Holidays!” and he faded away.

Everyone looked at each other, and Tara said, “Yes, sometimes this is the most wonderful time for the year.”

_________________
Snapshots:http://thekittenboard.com/board/viewtopic.php?f=5&t=10210 a Love Story
____________________________________________________________
Kim: (breaks off the kissing) I l... (Sue stops her with a hand)
Sue: We don't talk about things like that right after, you know that, no saying those things in The Moment.
Kim: (moves the hand aside) Screw The Moment. I *love* you.

Chris - I haven't had time to read it yet but I will.

DaddyCatALSO - What a cute little glimpse into their lives. Loving kids as I do, I love the way they totally star in this story, even from another room. I really enjoyed this.

_________________
Menorah Tales | Working It Out | Random Bits

DaddyCat & Chris, I'll try to catch up on your stories tomorrow, k? I really can't wait, it's my own personal gift under the tree.


jasmaydee:
Megan, I can't tell you how much I loved your story. Actually, I guess I am telling you right now. So scratch that. I loved your story and thought it set the stage for this challenge.

I was really impressed by the way you balanced the fantasy and real. It's a really fine line, but there are elements that make the reader feel comfortable enough in the delightful Whoville you created. I felt very grounded in the world you created and it made for an even greater read. Great short stories scratch a larger surface and seem longer than they actually are. I thought that was true with what you did, it felt like a much bigger story and I was completely sucked into it.

Your characters had such *depth*! I'm always amazed at the ability of authors to thicken such a thin amount of writing into such a vivid, bigger story. I emphasized with Willow and her sad life. I laughed when you described her plan coming into action and when Scooby turned into an armadillo by accident(very clever, btw). I loved your sweet, tender Tara in the little glimpses we got of her in the vet. I love how you made her daughter so sweet and not something at all she or Larry was ashamed of. And oh god, what a sweet little girl. The conversation Santa!Willow had with Tara's wee one just about broke my heart with the "That’s what Mommy keeps asking for every year; she says she wants us to get another mommy, so we won’t be just us two all the time.” My tender heartstrings were being pulled right along with Willow there, being so torn about her plan and then discovering the precious little child and Tara's wish. The horrible aftermath of Scooby getting hit(my goodness, what a dose of the 'real' there, Meg)! I soared when Tara and Cindy showed up at Willow's. Without being overly dramatic and heavy, you really pulled me on a successful emotional rollercoaster ride of empathy and hope and I felt really good after reading it.

Thank you for a story I'll cherish and for sharing such a special piece of yourself with us. Merry Christmas.



Ophelia11:
I love that Willow, with all her organizing skillz, can't for the life of her wrap presents. I had quite the wake-up call the other day while I was wrapping some things and none of them turned out as i'd hoped. Looks like I'm headed down the Willow path, though not nearly as badly.

I also really loved the way that you incorporated the gold and armadillo. It was bold and obvious without being pointless, which is difficult, but you pulled it off. Good for Willow thinking of Anya like that, very clever.

And ha! "pantsless Santa..." heh. yummy.



taralicious:
Oh, the "Hanukkah is better than Christmas because eight nights = eight presents" argument. In theory so good, yet in practice? It lacks a bit. As a member of the Hanukkah camp, Christmas seems to beat the pants off the Festival of Lights. But s'ok, we have like 8,3012 more holidays during the year to make up for it.

And again! Marvelous creative use for the spice and armadillo! It's one of those things that seem so ridiculous that they must be grounded in some truth. (Do you have a special little Frank.N.Sense at home? )

Very cute, I loved getting a glimpse into the lives of happy Willow and Tara.



darkwillow6:
O dear, energetic Buffy. But I'm afraid I'll have to disagree with Willow's choice of cereal. Out of all those, I'd do a mix of cheerios, rice krispies, and kix. Man, I used to love Kix. I pity Willow and Tara for shopping the day before Christmas, but hopefully they got some good sales. Happy first Christmas to Willow! It sure looked good.



thiswomanswork:
wow, Sera, this was neat. Buffy and Xander are so spot on, really. Buffy teasing Willow with the "I've talked about this before, haven't I?" and Xander's "I'm just saying... the soft, satiny wizard's robes... not gay. That's all I'm saying." Ha! That's so....Xander! Just ain't another word for it.

Ha, I loved Willow's silent vows. It is really hard to pay attention to the Torah reading sometimes, isn't it? Much more fun to schmooze with your neighbor than follow along. heh.

Loved Andrew's mantra repeat, and how classic that he doesn't even try to pretend he's actually interested.

I love how people are putting the armadillo in. Instead of making it boring and toss-in, it's really tied into the story and adds meaning. Love it!

Willow sung the brachot prefectly! And my mom's favorite is haneirot hallalu, but I don't know all the words and usually fade out a few lines in. I'm still a sucker for maotzor. How lovely that the festival folks included chanukkah so magnificently! Usually if there's a scheduling conflict, there's a mumbling of an apology and nothing really happens. I love that these folks take care of their own.

Super sweet. All the elements of this story just came together really nicely.



BentBrokenTheory:
Aw, this was nice. Short but sweet, this fic didn't overstay it's welcome one bit. Thanks for sharing it with us. And who doesn't like a fade-out scene with sex?



JustSkipIt:
Whew, Deb, you really know how to blow the water...well, out of the water. I'm glad you dove back into the writing pond, and even if ain't a 'Waiting For Dani', it was good of you to share this with us. We're always waiting and clamering for something new from you and this didn't disappoint. Although Im sure many cold showers will be had after this.

Now *this* was a rendition of Five Golden Rings I've never in a million years contemplated, but I can sure as hell promise you there's no way I'll be able to hear that song without thinking of this steamy tale.

Dark, dark, dark like straight up chocolate. Rich and yummy and man, vamp!Tara is just way beyond wicked. She knows how to play with and enjoy her prey perhaps even more than vamp!Willow.

Lordy, I have no idea what that last golden ring should be used for, but I'll keep my fingers crossed for a pt.2 by next Yuletide Season(was that phrase right at all? I just did the chinese food + movie on christmas eve thing so I'm way over in Jewtown and don't know any better ).

Thanks so much for this lovely addition to you fanfiction arsenal.

_________________
Lotus

Is it bad taste to throw my hat into my own fic challenge arena? I stayed up all night to finish it! Probably could have used some tweaking, but I wanted to get it in in time for Christmas. Beware the fluff. Enjoy.


Title: A Christmahanukah One Shot
Author: Foomatic
Disclaimer: Yadda yadda, don't own nothing, yadda yadda
Feedback: If it pleases you.





Tara sat in her car, and once again eyed the time on her dashboard. 11:57. Jesus, Tara, any normal person would have gotten out of their car and walked to the door already. She tucked her hands back underneath her, feeling her the warmth of her bottom chase away the cold in her fingertips.

Okay. At noon, we will step out of the car, and into the nice warm building.

She watched as parents exited the large brick structure with their children scurrying behind them, bursting with sugar-laden energy. It was the last day of pre-school before winter break, and Tara was certain that fudge and brownies were involved. The children paraded in front of her car, holding up their latest creations for everyone to see. A reindeer with one antler, a misshapen Santa, unidentifiable clay ornaments . . . decorations only a mother could love.

A few of the children recognized Tara and waved at her eagerly. Tara smiled and waved back. She hadn’t expected to be so involved in her niece’s class. Donny and Faith had their hands full with a newborn baby boy, so Tara had volunteered to chauffer her niece to and from school. Initially it had been strictly a drop-off/pick-up situation, but that all changed when she met her niece’s teacher.

Tara wasn’t prone to instantaneous attraction, let alone love at first sight, but there was something about the woman that sparkled and glowed on that first day of school. Maybe it was the excitement of a new batch of kids, maybe it was her love of children, but whatever it was, it was genuine.

She had introduced herself as Teacher Willow, which Tara couldn’t help but smile at. Whatever jitters her niece had when they arrived vanished when she took Teacher Willow’s hand and joined the rest of the class. Tara had watched from the doorway, amazed at the woman’s ability to command the attention of a room full of 4 year olds.

Over the next few weeks, casual hellos turned into small talk, which led to friendly conversations, and before she knew it, Tara became Tuesday’s parent helper (though technically not a parent). The only thing that matched her excitement for Tuesday morning was her growing attraction to the redheaded schoolteacher. Willow was the like the Pied Piper of children. Wherever she went, they followed. Whatever she asked, they did. Tara was beginning to think there was magic afoot; there was no logical reason for such a well-behaved class. And the more she thought about, the more she knew she was under Teacher Willow’s spell as well.

Which is why she was freezing in the car, instead of warming up in the classroom. With a little help from her niece, Tara discovered Teacher Willow’s love of mochas from the Dolores Park Cafe. Her personal Magnum PI also informed her that Teacher Willow was Jewish, so in addition to the two piping hot coffee cups, she brought along a little gift she helped her niece make, since Hanukah had begun two days ago.

Tara’s nerves were keeping her rooted in her spot, and she knew she needed to get a move on before the coffees turned into frozen delights. The clock flashed 12:00, and with the warm cups in tow and the present safe in her bag, Tara got out of her car and walked to the building.





Willow surveyed the classroom. Surprisingly, it wasn’t in shambles, considering the multitude of holiday delights her students had eaten in celebration of the last day of school before winter break. The few children who hadn’t been picked up were playing quietly near the balance beam, and Willow took advantage of the moment by helping herself to a little homemade fudge.

“Aunt Tara!”

Willow turned and watched a dark haired little girl with glasses burn rubber towards a woman standing in the doorway. A smile crept to her lips, like it always did, whenever Tara entered the room. In the beginning, Willow had waved it off as a silly little crush, but the more she got to know her, the more that crush turned into something deeper.

They had hit it off instantly and became fast friends. Willow knew she had it bad when she found herself stuck in front of her closet on Tuesday mornings. Trying to find clothes that were flattering yet school teacher-y was challenging, but trying to find an outfit that didn’t have finger paint stains or clumps of glue was damn near impossible.

She appreciated that Tara was very hands on with the children, unlike most parents, who stuck with their own kids. Willow would observe Tara leading a group activity, only to find herself observing Tara more closely. Occasionally they would lock eyes and Willow would smile and quickly turn away, hoping that the humongous blush on her face wasn’t obvious. Sometimes it was she who caught Tara looking at her, and the blonde would do the same, though Willow couldn’t tell if the blush was mutual.

Tara bent down and gave her niece a peck on the cheek before handing her a white cup. Willow watched as Tara turned to rummage in her bad and retrieve a small gift, which she also handed to her niece before whispering in her ear and pointing directly at Willow. Her niece nodded excitedly and half ran, half walked to her teacher.

“Teacher Willow, Teacher Willow! Look! For you!” Willow kneeled in front of the little girl and graciously accepted her gifts.

“For me? Thank you, Rachel!” she said, and promptly found herself on the receiving end of a giant hug and a sloppy kiss.

“Happy Hanukah, Teacher Willow,” Tara said with a half smile as her niece released Willow from her death grip.

“Thank you, Aunt Tara,” Willow replied. The two women regarded each other for a minute, nervously clutching their coffee cups.

“I hope you like mochas. I p-passed by the Dolores Park Cafe, and since it was cold out . . .”

“Oh, no, I love mochas. That’s actually my favorite cafe, so, gold star for you.” Willow took a sip from the cup, and relished the velvet chocolately flavor. “Mmm . . . this stuff is sinful.”

“Aunt Tara! Aunt Tara look!” Rachel had since ran to her to her cubby and returned with her most recent masterpiece. She held it up for her aunt to see.

“Wow, Rachel! Did you draw this? That’s the most awesome reindeer I’ve ever seen!” Tara gushed. She beamed at her niece and was surprised to see a frown lining her young face. Tara glanced at Willow with questioning eyebrows, and the school teacher replied by clearing her throat, and whispering something loud enough so only Tara could hear.

“Oh, wait a minute!” Tara backtracked, gathering the artwork from her niece, whose pout was threatening to take over her face. “Silly me, I forgot to put on my glasses!” She reached into her bag and pulled out a pair of dark sunglasses. Willow giggled as Tara put them on, and watched Rachel’s demeanor change as Tara observed the drawing more closely. “Oh my, I’m blinder than a bat! Rachel, I love your armadillo. It’s fantastic!” The little girl laughed in delight and clapped her hands, content with her aunt’s observation.

Tara removed her glasses and handed back the drawing. She looked up at Willow and gave her a sly wink. “Works every time.”

“Smooth. Very smooth, Aunt Tara.” Willow could feel the heat in her cheeks as the blonde smiled at her. She quickly took another swig of her coffee.

“So a holiday armadillo?” Tara questioned. “I’m beginning to wonder what else you’re teaching my niece.”

“Hey, in my defense, she got the letter A for the holiday pictures. She couldn’t think of what to draw that was Christmasy and started with ‘A,’ so I told her she could draw whatever she wanted. The armadillo was all her.”

Tara laughed, and Willow was certain that there wasn’t anything that sounded more beautiful.

“You ready to go, Grasshopper?” Tara affectionately asked her niece.

“Not yet Aunt Tara. I have to make a poopies first!” Tara rolled her eyes as her niece ran to the bathroom. Willow suppressed a snicker.

“That little girl has a obsession with bodily functions,” Tara explained. “I swear we’re working on it. She’s got this whole TMI thing going, I don’t know where she gets it from.”

“She has gotten better, though,” Willow replied. “She used to announce it everyday, but she’s cut back to once a week.”

More parents appeared at the door, and Willow excused herself to greet them as the entered. She hugged and kissed her students good bye, all the while keeping an eye on Tara, who was now circling the treat table, examining its wares. She watched as Tara settled on the same homemade fudge.

“Watch out, those things are deadly,” Willow joked after she waved the last of her students goodbye. Tara nodded in agreement.

“There should be a law against stuff this good.” Willow placed her coffee cup on the table, and began gathering the empty plates and cups.

“So,” Tara began as she helped clear the table, “any plans for the holidays? Spending it with family? Friends?” The blonde paused and Willow could sense her hesitation. “A boyfriend, maybe?”

“Um, no, no, and no,” Willow replied evenly. She felt a tinge of sadness at the thought of spending the holidays alone. Her parents were away at an academic conference in Europe, she explained, and friends had flown to the four corners of the country to be with family.

“And there hasn’t been a boyfriend since sophomore year of college, so it’ll be me, Miss Kitty, and Grandma’s old menorah.” She cringed at how pathetic that sounded, and hoped that Tara had not sensed her disappointment.

She felt the blonde’s eyes on her, and looked up to see Tara with her hands on her hips.

“Seriously? You’re spending it alone?” Willow shrugged her shoulders in response. “No. I absolutely cannot abide by this.” Tara ripped off a piece of butcher paper and began writing something in yellow crayon.

“You come and spend it with us,” Tara said, taking Willow’s hand and placing the paper in her palm. The redhead’s heart leapt at invitation, but her modesty immediately kicked in and the “No, it’s okay” flew out of her mouth before she could stop it.

“Willow, c’mon. No one should be alone during the holidays,” Tara pushed gently.

“No, really, it’s okay. I don’t want to impose,” she replied. She bit the urge to say yes, knowing that she had no place in their family gathering. But wouldn’t it be nice? she thought.

“Really Willow, it won’t be a problem. Donny and Faith love you, and I’m sure Rachel wouldn’t mind either. Isn’t that right Rachel?” she asked her niece as she appeared from the bathroom.

“Right!” the little girl replied with gusto, despite not knowing exactly what she was agreeing with.

“See?” Tara smiled. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint a child on Christmas, would you?”

“But she doesn’t even know what we’re talking about!” Willow exclaimed incredulously.

“Doesn’t matter. The Rach has spoken.” Tara scooped up her niece and tousled her hair. “So what do you say?” Tara continued as she playfully manhandled her giggling niece. For a moment, Willow let herself imagine a Christmas with Tara and her family . . . A Christmas with Tara, snuggled up near the fire place, touching, holding, maybe a little kissing –

“I could use a new partner for Christmas Pictionary.” Tara’s voice snapped her out of her warm daydream. “I’m tired of losing every year.” The blonde smiled at her warmly, and Willow felt the butterflies stir in her stomach. It’s easy. Just say yes.

She felt the gentle grasp of a hand, and looked down to see Tara’s fingers entwined with hers. The butterflies in her belly exploded.

“Listen, “ Tara said softly, “It’s totally not a problem. If you don’t want to, I respect that. But if there is any part of you that even remotely wants to go, you have our address, and we’d love to have you. Okay?”

Tara’s blue eyes were full of sincerity, and Willow felt a sense of calm settle her spazzing nerves.

“Okay,” was all the redhead could muster.

Tara smiled knowingly, and Willow felt a slight squeeze before the blonde relinquished her hand. Aunt and niece bade her good bye, leaving Willow alone in her classroom with the possibility of a not so lonely Christmas.





“You think she’ll come?” Rachel asked her aunt for the billionth time as they sat in the kitchen.

Tara sighed. “I hope so Grasshopper, cause these cookies aren’t going to eat themselves.” She gestured at the three batches of cookies cooling on the granite countertop. “I don’t think we made enough, do you?” Tara asked jokingly.

“You’re silly Aunt Tara,” her niece giggled. “I hope Teacher Willow visits us tonight,” Rachel mused as she deftly wielded her favorite cookie cutter. “I like her really a lot.”

“Me too, kiddo,” Tara breathed. “Me too.”

“I’ll bet you do,” chimed a voice from the pantry. “And you know she’s a lesbian because why?”

“Faith,” Tara spoke in exasperation, “I never said she was a lesbian. I just said she hasn’t had a boyfriend since college.”

Faith stopped rummaging through the pantry shelves and grinned at her sister-in-law. “Yup,” she nodded. “She’s a lesbian.”

“Who’s a lesbian?” Donny poked his head into the kitchen and helped himself to a cookie. “Mmm,” he mumbled in between bites as he grabbed a few more. “So good.”

“Your sister here has the hots for Teacher Willow,” Faith explained as she tended to the pots on the stove,

“What’s a lesbian?”

All three adults stopped what they were doing and looked at Rachel, who was unaware that she was the center of their attention. Tara glanced at Donny first, who shrugged his shoulders, and then to Faith, who rolled her eyes.

“Seriously. You guys look like she just dropped the F-bomb or something,” Faith admonished. “Sweetie, a lesbian is a woman who likes to kiss girls instead of boys,” she explained calmly to her daughter, who was still engrossed in her cookie cutting.

“Oh,” she replied nonchalantly. She gathered her cookies and placed them on an empty baking sheet. “Aunt Tara, are you a lesbian?” she asked. She stopped her cookie making and looked at her aunt.

Faith chuckled at her daughter’s curiosity, and shot Tara a pointed look. The blonde maintained her composure, however, and answered her niece. “Yes Rachel. I am a lesbian.”

“Okay,” was the little girl’s response, and Tara was relieved to see her interest return to the unbaked cookie dough. She looked sternly at her niece’s mother.

“What?” Faith responded.

“I know it’s hard to resist, but please, try not to embarrass me tonight? If she comes?” Tara pleaded. Her sister-in-law’s laughter was not reassuring. She looked at her brother, who proved his uselessness by shrugging yet again.

Great, Tara thought. It’s going to be a long night.





On the other side of town, Willow sat in her small studio, accompanied by Miss Kitty and a hot mug of peppermint tea. She inhaled the sweet scent of her beverage, and wondered again if she had made the right decision. The slip of paper with Tara’s neat handwriting laid on her lap, daring her to Mapquest the address and be on her way already.

Miss Kitty appeared by her side, purring and licking at her hair. As the cat maneuvered across the side table, she knocked over the remote control, which clattered loudly onto the floor. Willow bent to pick it up, and noticed an unwrapped present hidden under the couch.

“Miss Kitty, did you put that there?” she asked her cat as she lovingly rubbed her behind the ears. The cat purred in response. Willow reached under the couch and grabbed the forgotten gift.

To Teacher Willow From Rachel, the tag said, in the same neat script as the piece of paper on her lap. Willow carefully unwrapped the square object, and revealed a popsicle stick picture frame, decorated with various beads, strings, and pompoms. In it was a picture of her, Rachel . . . and Tara. She remembered that picture; Tara had offered to take a picture of the two of them, and Rachel had insisted that her aunt be in the picture. She stared at the picture for a moment, taking in Tara’s dazzling smile and Rachel’s infectious grin, before placing it on her side table.

From her perch on the couch, Miss Kitty watched her owner put on her shoes and pick up her keys. Willow kissed her cat good bye and donned her resolve face as she headed towards the door.





Tara looked out the window as she arranged each place setting. She wondered if she was setting herself up for disappointment, since there was no indication that Willow would be joining them this evening. The hope she had awoken with this morning was slowly dwindling down to nothing, and she was tempted to put the extra place setting back in the china cabinet where it belonged.

“Tara, is everything all right?” Tara turned to see her mother enter the dining room, carrying a casserole dish. Her parents had arrived earlier in the afternoon, and though she hadn’t seen her mother in months, Tara knew her mother could still read her like a book. “You look a bit . . . disappointed.”

Her mother approached her and gathered her in her arms. “It’s nothing Mom,” Tara began, enjoying the warmth of her mother’s embrace. “I invited someone over tonight, but it doesn’t look like she’s coming.”

“Is she the flavor of the month?” her mom teased, and Tara responded by wriggling out of her grasp.

“Mom! You’ve been hanging out with Faith to long,” she giggled.

“Hey T!” came a voice from the kitchen. “Donny’ll be out front in a minute, can you help him bring in the firewood?” Faith appeared, laden with yet another casserole dish. “And yes Mom, that ‘she’ is most definitely the flavor of the month,” she continued. Tara frowned. “But we’re not supposed to tease T over here. It’s her Christmas wish,” Faith finished with an air of sarcasm. Tara rolled her eyes at their laughter, and left the dining room before she could be the butt of more jokes. From the window of the front room, she saw Donny’s pick-up pull into the empty space in front of the house. She quickly grabbed her jacket and yanked open the front door, revealing a very startled schoolteacher on her doorstep.

“Willow?”

“H-hey,” the redhead chattered nervously. “I . . . I hope I’m not too late.” She extended her hands and produced a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine. The blonde’s happiness was bursting at the seams, and before she knew it she had engulfed the woman in a giant hug.

“I’m glad you made it,” she whispered softly. The redhead shyly returned Tara’s smile, and for a moment they were lost in each other’s gaze.

“Ahem.” The sound of a throat clearing yanked Tara back to reality. “Nice to see you, Willow,” Donny mumbled under the weight of a box of firewood. “You think you can grab a couple of logs off the top and help a man out?”

“Of course,” Willow obliged, and the trio entered the house.





“Are you sure I can’t help?” Willow asked as Tara removed the empty dishes from her hands and shooed her out of the kitchen. They had just finished dinner, and Willow had insisted on helping with the clean up, to which Tara had responded with a firm no.

“We’ve got it covered. Don’t you worry about a thing.” Tara winked at the schoolteacher and carried the rest of the plates in the kitchen. “Hey Rachel! Why don’t you keep Teacher Willow company and show her how you decorated the Christmas tree?”

“Okay!” Rachel replied excitedly, and promptly whisked her teacher away to the front room.

“She’s a cute one, Tara,” her mom commented as she loaded the dishwasher. “And very charming. Think she’s a keeper?” She waggled her eyes at her daughter.

“Mom,” Tara sighed.

“I’m just saying. It’s about time you had someone in your life. You deserve it.” She leaned over and gave her daughter a kiss. “Besides, I think she likes you. She made googly eyes at you all during dinner.”

“Googly eyes? What?” Tara quickly glanced at her mother, who dissolved into a fit of laughter when she saw the look on her daughter’s face.

“Go on inside, I’ll finish up here,” she said, as she caught her breath. “I think your Dad’s monopolizing her and boring her to tears.” She nodded to the front room, where sure enough, Willow was engaged in a lively conversation with Tara’s father. “Go save your damsel in distress,” she urged with a smile. Tara wiped her hands dry and returned her mother’s kiss before exiting the kitchen.

“Hey Dad,” Tara interrupted gently as she approached the two. “Did you bring the easel?”

“Yes! It’s in the car, let me get it out.” His eyes twinkled as he looked back at Willow. “Christmas Pictionary. A holiday tradition,” he beamed. “Hope you brought your A game tonight, Willow.”

“Sorry about that,” Tara apologized, as her father left to retrieve the easel. She plopped down on floor in front of the redhead. “He loves chatting up new people.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” Willow responded with a smile. “He was just telling me all the famous Jewish people he knew.”

“Oh god,” Tara said in embarrassment, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Harrison Ford’s a quarter Jewish,” Willow shared, “not too shabby, eh?”

Both women laughed. Soon, the rest of the family joined them in the front room. Tara’s father returned with the easel, and everyone split into teams. The battle for the title of Supreme Christmas Pictionary Champ had commenced.

Half an hour later, Tara found herself in front of the easel, and saddled with the task of breaking the tie. If Willow guessed the answer, their team would reign supreme.

A hush filled the room as Tara picked a card and read its contents. Donny and Faith watched her with trepidation, while Tara’s parents relaxed, knowing that they were completely out of the running.

Tara bit her lip and thought for a moment. She glanced at her partner, who eagerly awaited the chance to win the game. Nodding at her niece, who readied the timer, Tara picked up the marker. At the sound of the word ‘go,’ Tara’s hand flew across the paper.

Willow watched the flurry of lines and panicked a little when her guesses missed the mark. Tara’s drawings were becoming more emphatic, and Willow tried her best to put them together. Time was slowly running out . . .

“Frankincense?” she guessed out loud.

Tara screamed in triumph, and pumped her fist in the air.

“What? Wait a minute!” Faith exclaimed, standing up and grabbing the card out of Tara’s hand. “How the hell did you get frankincense from that?” She gestured at the menagerie of drawings on the easel. Willow responded with a shrug. “Unbelievable,” Faith muttered with a shake of her head.

“Woo hoo!” Tara bellowed, and exchanged a big high five with her partner. “How do you like them apples, Donny?” She swaggered in front of her brother with glee.

“Next year, I get the school teacher on my team,” Donny replied playfully, to which Faith responded with a smack on his arm. “What? You’re a horrible artist!”

“And last time I checked you were no Picasso either!”

Tara laughed as the couple continued to bicker. She turned to Willow, who had gotten up and was stretching out her limbs.

“I’m not even going to ask how you knew,” Tara said with a smile.

“Just a lucky guess. Something about you gesticulating wildly just screamed out ‘frankincense.’” Tara giggled at the redhead’s response.

The grandfather clock chimed in the hallway, and Willow quickly glanced at her watch. “Wow, I didn’t realize how late was.” To Tara’s dismay, she began gathering her belongings.

“Are you leaving us so soon?” asked Tara’s father. “We’re just about to pop in ‘How the Grinch Stole Christmas.’”

“No, no, I really should get going. But thank you. Thank all of you,” she gestured to the rest of the family. “I had a great time tonight. Really.”

Tara watched as Willow bid her family goodbye. The evening had turned out better than she expected, and though she wanted Willow to stay longer, she knew better than to push.

“I’ll walk you out,” she offered, and followed Willow to the front door.

“Daddy look!” Tara turned to see her niece pointing above her head. “They’re standing under the mistletoe!” Both women looked up, and sure enough, there was a twig dangling from the doorway. “You have to kiss now!” Rachel exclaimed, and Tara felt the blush creep across her face. She stole a glance at Willow, who was laughing at Rachel’s comment. “It’s okay, Teacher Willow, Aunt Tara told me she likes to kiss girls instead of boys. She’s a les-“

“Okay, let’s go watch that movie!” Donny interrupted as he clamped a hand on his daughter’s mouth. “You have a nice evening Willow,” he said as he dragged his squiggling daughter away. Faith suppressed a giggle, and gave Tara a wink before following her husband.

Tara stood the doorway, frozen in embarrassment. “Wow,” she said flatly. She looked at Willow, who was beet red. “Feel free to run out of the house screaming,” Tara joked, and it was enough to break the awkward silence between them. Willow opened the door, and the two stepped into the cold winter air.

“Well, to say that was horribly embarrassing would be an understatement,” Tara said as the pair walked down the street to Willow’s car.

“I don’t know, it was kinda cute,” Willow replied. “It’s not everyday you’re outed by your five year old niece.”

Tara cringed. “Damn, I was hoping you weren’t paying attention.” The redhead laughed, then gestured to a gray Honda Accord parked on the street.

“That’s me,” she said, and the two stopped next to the vehicle. Willow leaned up against the car, while Tara stood in front of her, hands deep in her jacket pockets. “Besides, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Willow reassured, playfully kicking Tara in the shin. The blonde watched as Willow’s hand reached out and tugged on her jacket. “I . . .” Willow began, and Tara could sense the hesitation in her voice. “I prefer kissing girls too,” she murmured.

Tara could scarcely believe what she was hearing. She swallowed the lump in her throat, and looked up to see a pair of green eyes beckoning her closer. The tug on her jacket was a little more insistent, and Tara found herself toe to toe with the redhead. There was but a whisper between them, and then nothing, as their lips met in a delicate kiss.

Tara felt Willow’s arms encircle her waist as they parted, and she did the same, gathering the petite woman’s body into her arms.

“So, good Hanukah?” the blonde asked with a peck on the cheek.

“Best Hanukah,” Willow replied with a smile.

_________________
Foo

Kisses and Gay Love
"I like my buttons, curvy." - Willow, Neverland, by Easiersaid

Great fics! Happy Holidays.

Akilah - Very well done. I can't imagine Ted being so persistent. I work for the state and I would have just filed a sexual harrassment charge against him but I guess that's the difference in private and public sector (that and a lot of money of course). Anyway, I love that he thought she would like an Armadillo. Tee hee. Very cute about their role-playing as Grinch.

Foo - Awww. I love, absolutely love, first meeting stories. I love the way you used a real economy of words to really portray the growing interest on both sides. And it's all so familish. I would never think of Faith and Donny together. I think that Cam's Legend of Green Eyed Red is the only other Faith/Donny pairing I can think of. Still, it seems to really work here. I love Rachel as the catalyst for Willow and Tara and Tara's family is so awesome. Very well done and thanks for the challenge.


And anyone else keep thinking of A Prayer for Owen Meaney?

_________________
Menorah Tales | Working It Out | Random Bits