RATING: G
SUMMARY: Willow and Giles first meet.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine.
Before
by Rebecca Carefoot
Willow sat underneath her favorite window on the second floor of the Sunnydale High Library. The sunlight streamed in, surrounding her in intense, warm light. In another half hour the warmth would become too hot for comfort, but right now it was nice. Her head was bowed over tucked legs and an open copy of _Swann's Way_.
Most days she spent her lunch hour with Xander and Jesse, mainly watching them horse around with each other, sometimes injecting herself into the conversation. Mostly just watching. It was nice, to be able to sit and listen without feeling constant pressure to speak. Occasionally they took their lunch hours to go off and do whatever it was guys couldn't do in front of girls. Not like *that,* you perv. Those were the days she spent her lunch in the library, curled on the floor underneath her window.
It was her favorite place in the school. No one ever bothered her there. The old librarian had only came out of his office when he was needed to run through the check out procedure. And he'd retired several weeks before, leaving a completely disinterested teacher's aid to spend her time watching soap operas on her small portable television. The few students who entered the library rarely made it up the steps to the second floor. It was a safe place. A silent place. There were no insults or snide remarks, no accidental on purpose shoves, nothing but the soft rustle of pages turning.
"Uh...hello," a startled voice broke into her solitude. She looked up in surprise, her eyes wide. She clutched her book to her chest. The deep British voice belonged to a very British looking middle aged man. He looked at her curiously from behind a round pair of wire-rimmed glasses, his chin almost resting on the large stack of books he held in his arms.
"Oh," she said when she realized the stretching silence was waiting for her reply. "Hello." She jerked slightly, and untucked her legs. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean- I'm in the way."
"No, no," the man said, and almost extended his hand before the sliding stack of dusty volumes reminded him his arms were occupied. "You're not in the way. I was just surprised to see you there."
"Likewise," Willow said. She stood up and put her novel on the windowsill.
"Yes," he said, his eyes traveling up the wall. "It does seem this room is rather a deserted area most of the time." She nodded. "I'm Mr. Giles," he said. "I'm filling the post of librarian at the moment."
"Willow Rosenberg."
The books slipped again, and he readjusted his arms. "Well," he said. "I'd best shelve these before my arms give out." He smiled, and half-turned.
"I could help," Willow said, surprised as soon as the words left her mouth. Why had she said it? She hated strangers, awkward conversation, pressing silences. But there was something comfortable about him. He turned back.
"I would appreciate that greatly." Willow smiled at the soft cadences of his accent and the formal diction of his sentences. She grabbed several large tomes off the top of the stack and walked with him as he headed to a shelf several feet away. She looked at the book on the top of her stack.
"Demons and Destruction?" she read.
"Yes, well uh...I thought we needed to di-diversify our collection," the man began.
Willow lifted up the other books she held to get a glimpse at their titles. "So I guess Sunnydale High was lacking in the magic and occult section of the card catalogue?" Mr. Giles chuckled nervously. "Some of these books look really old. Ancient." She touched the leather binding with a finger. Mr. Giles put his stack of books on the floor.
He patted his forehead with a handkerchief pulled from the breast pocket of his tweed suit. Willow raised her eyebrows slightly. Tweed suit, including dress shirt, vest and tie. In Sunnydale, California. Where the temperature rarely dropped below the 85 degrees and most of the teachers barely managed business casual. "Some of them are quite old yes," Mr. Giles said.
"How'd you get them?" Willow asked. "They feel...different. Like they're heavier or more substantial than the other books somehow." She rolled her eyes at herself. "Probably because the pages are thicker. Obviously." He smiled.
"That's part of it I'm sure," he agreed. "But you're right. There's a...feeling one gets when turning the pages of a first edition."
"Like being part of history," Willow muttered to herself.
"Exactly," the man said, raising his eyebrows. "As to how I get them, I'm something of a book collector myself," he said. "And I have some connections in Britain."
"Librarian connections?" Willow said. "I didn't know there was such a thing."
"Well, I've only recently become a librarian," he said.
"What were you before?"
"Curator of the British Museum."
"Wow," Willow said. "That's kind of a big deal." Giles smiled. "Why would you give that up to be a high school librarian?" She blushed. "That was really rude. I'm sorry." Giles slid a book into place on the shelf.
"It does seem a step down doesn't it," he said. He turned to Willow. "But there are other things to consider besides salary or job title. And I find the jobs are similar in many ways. Cataloguing, creating a collection, maintaining it..." He stopped. "I imagine all of that seems rather dull."
Willow shook her head. "Not really. A lot of the stuff I find interesting is generally filed in the dull folder by the rest of the world."
"Like reading, if the number of books I've checked out in the past two days is any indication."
"It's a pretty good indication," Willow said. Giles stood with his hand on the shelf. Willow looked at the one remaining book in the stack she held. "Anyway, I should go."
"Ahh...of course," Giles said. She handed him the book.
"I mean," she hesitated. "Because lunch is almost over." She stepped backward toward the window. "I won't- Um- I didn't mean to bother you." She turned.
"Honestly, Willow," Mr. Giles said. "You're no bother. It's nice to find someone who actually uses the library for the purpose it was intended. A place for reading." Willow looked over her shoulder. "Please continue to use it if you wish." Willow nodded.
"Thanks." She walked to the window and picked up her book. She pulled on her backpack and headed for the stairs. She paused at end of the shelf. "Welcome to Sunnydale, Mr. Giles," she said. She ducked her head and hurried down the stairs to the first level.
The door swung open. Jesse and Xander strolled in, and Xander held up his hand to greet her. "There you are, Wills." He linked his arm through hers. "I was afraid you'd lose track of time and miss class like you did last week." Willow elbowed him in the ribs.
"I only did that the one time," she said. "And anyway it was because my watch had stopped."
"Well, we are your very own personal alarm-"
"-and escort-" Jesse added.
"-system," Xander finished. "Although I'm feeling kind of dirty about the escort thing." They walked through the swinging double doors, and Willow threw a look back through the round glass windows. Mr. Giles was hidden behind the shelves, but she could see a flash of tweed. Her lips turned up in a smile.
"What's the funny?" Jesse asked.
"Nothing," Willow said. "Just amused by the idiot twins." Xander bowed. "The new librarian's here."
"Well, that'll deeply affect my life," Xander said sarcastically.
"I heard he's some stuffy British guy. Stiff-upper lip, tea kind of guy," Jesse said.
Willow shrugged. "He's not so bad. British yeah. Wears tweed. But nice." She smiled again.
"Are you in love with the librarian, Will?" Xander said. "I mean seriously." He grinned. "Or is it just about sex with you two." She rolled her eyes.
"One of these days, they're going to invent a way to shut you up," she said.
"We can only hope," Jesse said.
"In your dreams," Xander said, giving Willow a squeeze that sent her heart sliding up into her throat.
"We should hurry," she said as the bell rang. They quickened the pace and darted past the door to their English class before the teacher shut the door behind them. Willow sat at her desk and absently tapped her pencil against her notebook. She wrote in the margins of the blue lined paper. Check out new collection. She glanced at Xander. He made a goofy face and she shook her head. She jerked back to reality when the teacher called her name, and forced herself to concentrate on Fitzgerald's use of symbolism in _The Great Gatsby_. The library wasn't going anywhere.
end
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