I own nothing. I also posted this fic as Selena on the Kitten Board
Android k/18: Thanks. :)
The 42: purple oceans are, indeed, fun. I only get to go to the boring normal beach… ;)
Spritznar: I'm glad you like the cuteness; I can't help but be fluffy when it comes to Willow and Tara.
Chapter Twelve
"It was only a dream," Tara whispered to herself. "It was only a dream." She pulled the heavy hood of the disguising cloak Buffy had lent her lower over her face, resolutely turning her attention to the unusually grave and quite townspeople gathering under the midmorning sun. Tara was not thinking about the carpet ride back to Foggybottom where Buffy had enthusiastically leaned over the edge of the carpet, commenting loudly on the landscape miles below them. Nor was Tara thinking about the steadily building hum of magic as the Tradition gathered itself to drive the Tale forward. And she certainly was not thinking about exactly why her own magic felt so plentiful. In fact, Tara decided, she was thinking about nothing at all; except maybe how hot the cloak was and how grimy she felt wearing yesterday's clothes in which she had inadvertently slept. A bead of sweat was tortuously making its way down her back, just off center of her spine, making Tara squirm.
"It was only a dream" Tara whispered fiercely, blushing at how forward her behavior had been, would have been, if it had actually been Willow, which it wasn't. "It was only a dream!"
"Did you say something?" Giles asked softly, from under his own concealing cloak.
Tara felt the blood rush to her face. "N-n-no," she lied, turning her attention back to the crowd to watch as Sir Armin, the local authority for Foggybottom, made his way to stand on a crate at the front of the crowed. Giles frowned at her, but also turned forward to meet Sir Armin's eyes as the nervous looking man sought Giles' gaze out in the crowd. The Fairy Godfather nodded once. Swallowing heavily, Sir Armin nodded back.
"Do you remember what you are supposed to do?" Giles asked the pair of young lovers who were standing in front of them. Amelia, who proved to be a short, rather shapely brunette with light brown eyes, nodded curtly, her jaw clenched. Trevor, looking equally tense, whispered softly back, "Yes Godfather."
"Alright then, Trevor, you had best go to the mill. Remember not to return until after sundown."
Giving Amelia a quick kiss on the cheek, Trevor walked quickly away without looking back.
"May I have you attention," Sir Armin called from the podium. His throat worked fearfully as the crowd focused on him. "As you know, an Ogre has been menacing our village." As he spoke, the Tradition began to build around him, causing his words to fall into a hypnotic rhythm. "In an effort to appease this vile beast we must present it with a sacrifice. We shall leave the most lovely and nubile of our maids tied to a post just outside the village. This single life shall save the lives of our entire village! All that are eligible must participate in the lottery; not even my own foster daughter," he glanced at Amelia, who had been given into his foster care late the prior evening, under Giles' and Tara's direction. "Will be exempt."
The was much murmuring and general rumbles of disquiet but Giles was humming softly, weaving his magic with the tradition, so no actual voice rose to protest the rather alarming solution to the Ogre problem. Some wept openly when Sir Armin drew forth a slip of parchment and mothers clutched their daughters closer. The mayor unfolded it with shaking hands; a hitched sob escaping as he saw the name written there.
"Over doing it a little is he?" Miss Kitty whispered.
"No. Shh," Giles replied curtly out of the corner of his mouth. The Tradition was thick around them now. Under Sir Armin's direction two burly, pitchfork toting, young men roughly grabbed Amelia's arms and force marched her out of the square. "Alright, Miss Kitty, you had best get in to position."
Licking her shoulder nonchalantly, Miss Kitty glanced up at him, and then stretched; just to be sure she wasn't leaving because someone had told her to. Retracting her claws she trotting off, tail high, like a sinuous black and white banner.
Now there was nothing to do but wait.
And watch.
And be prepared to step in if things went horribly, horribly wrong.
Tara swallowed nervously. This had been her plan; the responsibility was on her shoulders.
"Relax," Giles told her. "The Tradition is headed in the way we want, Buffy is in place, and we are here to back her up. It's going to be fine."
Tara swallowed. "There s-should be a rule against saying something like th-that," She responded, managing a weak smile. "It's almost like daring something to go w-wrong."
"Something always goes wrong Tara, but we are prepared."
"Are you nervous?" Tara asked.
"Always." Giles patted her shoulder. "But you have to trust in your abilities to handle whatever situation might arise." Giles reached up a hand to adjust his spectacles "I have great faith in both you and Buffy," he added awkwardly.
Unbidden Willow's face rose in Tara memory, her green eyes intense and uncommonly serious. 'I trust you' she had said. Tara curled her fingers into her palm, remembering how Willows hand's had felt in hers.
"W-we should go keep watch," she told Giles. "For when things go wrong."