Chapter Sixth: Goodbye, Sunnydale

From the shadows behind one of the courtyard buildings, the woman with obviously fake blonde hair watched as an older gentleman exited the back of a black car. He seemed unfazed by the soggy mess around him, taking it all in with a stalwartly serious expression. He seemed to start when he saw the two women, however, and after a moment's hesitation when he seemed to have muttered something to himself, he raised his chin and yelled across the courtyard.

"The Paper!" he shouted, getting the attention of the blonde woman, causing the redhead with her to turn as well. At this point, the shadowy woman turned away and left, soundlessly.

Tara saw the man calling her, and then turned back to Willow with a grimace. "Who is that?" Willow asked, squinting to see the bespectacled man.

Tara wrung her hands. "My boss," she answered. "I better go see him, then." She turned and started walking towards him, and nearly started in surprise when Willow began following her; in fact, the redhead drew up beside her, still clutching the books to her chest.

The pair drew up to the older man. "Mr. Rouge, hi," Tara began, nervously. "What brings you here?"

The man scrutinized her. "Actually, I was just driving through. Then reports came in over the radio about something on fire… truth be told, I didn't expect to see you here." His British accent came through clearly, and Willow, being a fan of English accents, listened to him intently.

He seemed to notice Willow's close attention and turned to her. "Madam, I hope you are unhurt. Do you need medical assistance?" Willow hardly paid attention to the words, so enthralled was she with his accent.

Tara stammering next to her drew her away, however. "Oh, u-uh, Mr. Rouge, this is Willow. Willow Rosenberg. She's one of my students." Her hands made gestures reminiscent of opening books and pointing towards her younger charge.

Rouge's eyebrows rose. "You know her?" When they both nodded, he seemed out of sorts. "Well, then, pleased to make your acquaintance Miss Rosenberg. Now, if you'll excuse us, Tara and I need to get some business taken care of." Briskly yet politely, he turned towards the car.

"A-actually, sir, could we give her a ride home?" Tara's voice was soft and unsure, as always. Rouge closed his eyes for a slow blink, and then turned back to her. "Of course," he replied, courteously, sweeping an arm ahead of him towards the car. The door was still open, and Tara entered first, then Willow, and finally Rouge. The inside of the car was spacious enough, with two rows of seats that faced each other. Willow and Tara sat on one side, Rouge on the other.

"So…" Willow began, uncomfortable with long moments of silence. "How are you, Mr. Rouge?" She noticed the man seemed to blush a little at the mention of his name, but shrugged it off.

"Ah, excellent," Rouge replied quickly, as if realizing he was being somewhat rude. "Are you a student of Ms. Tara's, Miss Rosenberg?"

Willow nodded. "Yeah, she substituted my English class today."

"She's a writer, too," Tara added, unable to help herself and bursting with pride that she knew THE Willow Rosenberg.

Rouge looked out the window for a moment. "Ah yes, books. I don't read as much as I used to. Haven't been able to get around to it…" He looked thoughtful.

Willow's curiosity was piqued. "What is it that you do, Mr. Rouge?"

He blushed again. "Ah, I'm in charge of a library, of sorts."

"And Tara works for you?" Willow asked. Tara definitely could be a librarian, with her super knowledge of books. Then again, Tara seemed way too cool to be a librarian, merely pulling carts between shelving units all day. The job simply didn't seem glamorous enough for Tara's beauty.

"Part-time," Tara answered for them, giving Willow a small smile at her curiosity.

The ride towards Willow's house was quiet, with Willow only occasionally giving directions to the driver. She was burning with more questions to ask Mr. Rouge, specifically about Tara, but she realized any further inquiry would be a little too nosy.

When they arrived, Willow scooted out. Noticing the books in her arms, she gave them over to Tara. "Oh, I didn't get to sign them," Willow said, absently searching her pockets for pens. Tara pouted, just a little bit. Willow stared at the full lips before being hit by a realization. "Oh, but I could bring a pen to the movies!" She checked her watch, noting that there was still about two and a half hours before their scheduled 'date'. Her brow furrowed. "Are we still going to…?" Her voice trailed off when she saw Rouge, one eyebrow raised. "… study the movie for that class?" she finished.

Tara blinked. "Um, sure, call me right before and I'll let you know if we've finished our business for today," she replied, absently waving as Willow energetically waved back and shut the door, scampering through her front lawn and into her house. Tara noted the cookie-cutter style of the house the resembled half of the other houses in this neighborhood. 'Ah, suburban master planning at its best', Tara thought. 'Seems nice.'

'Ugh, suburban master planning at its best,' Rouge noted with distaste, remembering the maze-like neighborhoods of his own childhood home.

Tara turned back to Rouge as the car drove away, clutching the books to her as if hoping to soak up every bit of warmth remaining from the previous holder. Rouge eyed her thoughtfully, guessing as to what was going on in his employee's mind. Clearing his throat, he brought her out of her reverie, her eyes focusing on him. She blushed madly and murmured, "Oh, sorry, Mr. Rouge."

He winced, then brought a remote control out of his jacket's inner pocket and pressed a few buttons, causing a screen to come down from the ceiling of the car. "Please, Tara, I appreciate that you used my codename while with Ms. Rosenberg, but since we're in private, I again request that you call me Giles." Though the move to the Head of the British Library Special Forces was a dream come true, the codename he had to take upon his promotion was God-awful. It was tradition that the first syllables of the first and last names were used, and for the two previous heads of the Library Force, it had worked out fine. Joseph Carpenter was deemed 'Joker', and Watson Churchill was 'Watcher', but Rupert Giles rued the day he was dubbed 'Rouge'. It made him sound like a character from Rocky Horror Picture Show, an image he did not like being produced in the minds of his staff. Alas, tradition was tradition.

At Tara's nod, Giles pressed another button on the remote and images began working their way across the screen. It appeared to be the White House, on fire. "Last night," Giles briefed, "the White House and the Library of Congress were attacked. Several security forces were killed, but the President and his family, as well the staff of the library, were not harmed. The buildings themselves, however, withstood much damage. The unknown perpetrators seemed to be looking for something, and the Library has reported that it seemed that specific articles were stolen." The picture flashed to an area of the Library that seemed less damaged than the others in terms of fire or explosions, but appeared to have been ransacked. "What were stolen were some early British novels, first edition copies, such as Joseph Andrew's "Pamela" to Jonathan Swift's "Gulliver's Travels". No word yet on why they destroyed the buildings for these books."

Tara looked thoughtful. She peeled the books from her chest and picked out the German one. "I was attacked by a fiery tiger thingy, and the guy controlling it wanted this book." Giles peered at the title, and then reached for it, Tara handing it over suspiciously. As she suspected, Giles took a good look at it and then laid it next to him.

Her heart fell as she heard the words, "We'll have the Library take a closer look at this book." Pouting, Tara looked out of the window. Giles hid a grin at Tara's typically cute behavior about books.

Tara suddenly blinked and her eyes flew to meet Giles'. "So that means, no movie, huh?"

Giles looked apologetic. "I'm sorry. In light of this new information, Mr. Gentleman is going to want to see you and ask about all this. Try to think of a plausible excuse to tell Ms. Rosenberg."

Tara turned her head and stared forlornly out of window, as the car accelerated onto the freeway towards the airport. She felt her throat close up and balk at the thought of lying to her new crush, as if a spell had been cast over her voice. 'You're special, Willow,' she thought. 'But I can't tell you, yet.'

TBC

Author's Note: I have this icky habit of writing a chapter, then letting it sit there for a month before looking at it again and realizing that I could go ahead and upload it. On one hand, it's nice to come back to them and slap my palm to my forehead at how crappy my writing seems to be, but I realize that it's a freakin' long process and will I get with the program already? And of course I've decided to start another story, too. Such is the mind of an ARTISTE. You can't chain down ART!

Ahem. So, yes. Next chapter hopefully sooner than later.