The Parchment

Summary: A magical piece of paper falls prey to the whims and fancies of midlife crisis. Definitely B/S, set in AU S5; no Dawn, no Glory.
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all related to her belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox etc. I own nothing.
A/N: I'm so, so sorry about the late update! I've been busy fitting back into routine, and I also kinda crashed my computer. All good now, though. Read and review.

3. Hide and Seek

Buffy pulled her hands out of her pockets, hesitating for an instant before bringing down her fist on Willow's door. She knocked, once, twice, thrice, and waited for a response, hands shoving back into her pocket.

She leaned against the doorframe and looked at the hallway, a small smile on her face. This was where she fought the Initiative commandos for the first time; this was where she'd told Angel she was over him...

And here she was, again, moping because Spike would rather spend his time with her mom than with her.

The smile disappeared, but before she could frown, the door was pulled open by a disheveled Willow, who looked out with a frown that comes when you've been roused from an important task.

How well she knew the feeling.

Willow noticed Buffy and, immediately, grinned. "Buff! Hey!" She stepped aside, a clear invitation to go in. "What's going on?"

"You tell me," Buffy said, walking into the room, curiously looking around at where Tara's things occupied the space that had once been hers. Everything seemed upturned and messy, and Buffy had a sudden thought. She froze and looked at Willow, wincing. "I didn't interrupt anything ... personal, did I?"

Willow, who had thrown herself on her bed, rolled her eyes and patted the spot next to her. "Tara's at the library," She said, "Plus, if we were doing anything... personal," Willow grinned at Buffy's blush, I wouldn't open the door."

"Oh." Buffy sat down. "I see."

"You should. Now tell me," Willow pulled her legs up to the bed to sit in a cross-legged position, "What brings you here, to our lair, Macbeth?"

Buffy frowned.

Willow sighed. "That's where you lost marks in English, eh?"

Buffy shook her head. "Wills," She said, "You're just confusing me. Please, stop with the weird references, please?"

"Okie-dokie. Now tell me, why're you being all formal-ish and grouch-ish, tonight?"

"I don't know!" Buffy threw herself onto the bed, stretching her body lazily as Willow picked up Tara's cat. "It's just..." Buffy let out a deep breath to calm herself, and sat up. Looking at her nails, she said to Willow, "I miss Riley."

Willow looked at her friend and smiled, slightly. "Oh, Buffy," She reached out to hold her hand, "Do you need a hug—

But Buffy interrupted and shocked her by saying, "Then we could go on dinner and we'd show Spike – that asshole – what it's like to have a real date, with kisses and romance and everything!"

Willow stared at Buffy.

Suddenly, the Slayer felt very self-conscious. "What?" She demanded, the temper from the gallery flaring back.

"Whoa," Willow held up her hands, a gesture she'd picked up from Xander, "Don't go all mercury on me, Buff! But, did I hear you right? Do you ... did you say you want Riley to make Spike jealous?"

"What!" Buffy looked more shocked than Willow felt. "To make spike jealous! Oh, Christ! Is the whole world going crackers?" Buffy gave a hysterical laugh.

"Why'd you say that?"

Stopping her laugh midway, Buffy turned serious and said, "Because my mum asked me about half an hour back if I'm in love with Spike." The laughs came back and Buffy lay down on the bed, laughing hard, again. "Me and SPIKE! God, how crazy is that! I mean, is that even possible in an alternate universe! Why would anyone think that!"

"Um," Willow bit her lip, holding in what she wanted to say, but she whispered it as the Slayer continued to laugh hysterically, "Because you talk about him all the time..."

After what seemed like a long time, Buffy quietened down and her breathing became normal, again. Willow stroked her friend's hair, much like she had the time Angel had told her he was planning to leave. Buffy whispered, "Willow, can I stay here, tonight? Don't feel like going home to an empty house..."

Willow smiled at Buffy's head. "Of course, Buffy. You didn't even need to ask."

Buffy looked up and smiled, too. "Thanks, Will."

"Buffy? I'm home!" Joyce put down the keys to the house on the table beside the bed and ventured into the dining room, looking for light that would indicate her daughter's presence. "Buffy?"

With a frown, Joyce entered the empty kitchen, looking for Buffy. She proceeded to the living room after making sure the back door was shut, wondering where her daughter was.

Standing in the middle of the living room, in the dark because she hadn't put the lights on, Joyce bit her lip and realized that Buffy was probably still at Willow's. With a sigh, she moved to sit on the couch, when something outside caught her eye.

Creeping silently to the couch, Joyce looked out through the blinds on her windows, into her front yard where, around her large oak tree, a small patch of red light could be seen. She squinted out into the darkness, but it didn't take her long to realize what she was looking at when the patch of red disappeared, only to be replaced by a flare of a match, a second later.

"Bugger." Spike's voice carried through the slightly open windows in the silent night. "She isn't there."

Joyce suppressed a laugh as Spike, in spite of the knowledge that her daughter wasn't home, continued to pace around the tree. She turned around and sank into the couch, smiling and shaking her head, a laugh on her lips, waiting to bubble out.

All through dinner, Spike had been distracted and had constantly worried about Buffy. While Joyce complimented the ambience of the posh French restaurant they were dining at, Spike wondered whether Buffy had eaten. When dessert came, he said he hoped she hadn't gone out to patrol upset. When they stopped at the Pump for coffee, Spike wished she'd come with them.

But when Joyce had commented on how irritated Buffy seemed when she'd learned they were going out for dinner, Spike told her she talked about her daughter too much.

He'd blushed when she'd raised her eyebrow in skepticism when he'd given her a blue rose to give to the Slayer.

"Make 'er feel a bit better, wha' with Cap'n Cardboard up and leavin', and all."

She'd taken it with a smile and a promise to give it to its rightful owner. And, as she lay on the couch, she wondered what it said about her as a mother, that Spike took more care of Buffy than she did.

Though, of course, none of them realized it.

Almost an hour later, Joyce's body was stiff with waiting for her daughter to come home. Sighing, she got up and noticed Spike had left, too. She was about to leave the room when she noticed the blinking light on the answering machine. She hit a button and leaned against the wall, her headache coming back suddenly, as she listened to her daughter's voice.

"Hi, mom. I'm staying over at Willow's place tonight, so when you come back... don't worry, okay?" A pause, and Joyce heard Willow sigh in the background. Then Buffy said, in a rush, "Hope you had a good time, Ma. Bye."

Joyce chuckled at the message and its hesitant nature. That was the thing about Buffy. She got angry, then got guilty for getting angry. Joyce rubbed her temples and, shaking her head, turned to go back up.

And froze when she saw a roll of paper lying beside her favorite armchair, the one Buffy and Spike always fought for whenever they were in the house together.

Frowning, Joyce wondered if she'd forgotten to clean properly that day. She bent and picked up the roll, unrolled and looked at it. Nothing. She turned it around. "Funny." She muttered, looking intently at the blank sheet. It looked very, very old, with a tint of yellow and cracks in the heavy paper. "It's parchment," She said to herself. "Very old parchment."

She looked at the floor where it came from, as though she'd get answers. When none seemed forthcoming, and her headache slowly worsened, Joyce pocketed the paper and, picking up the rose from where it lay near the telephone, turned to walk up.

As she undressed for bed, Joyce looked at the paper once more and, with a small smile, decided that it's make for good drawing paper if she was ever bored.

When Buffy was asleep, Willow sneaked out of the bed they were sharing and resumed looking for the sheet of paper she'd lost.

"Damn it, where are you?" She whispered, silently upturning the contents of an old, old box onto the rug. "I'll kill myself if I don't find it..."

She sifted through the stuff, one eye on the fitfully sleeping Slayer, making sure she was asleep. Willow could've put a spell on her for sleep, but she was against using witchcraft on her friends. It just seemed unfair, even if it was for something as little as sleep.

Being a Wicca did have morals and codes, after all. They came in a huge, refrigerator box with a small, jewellery box or perks along with it.

Willow's search intensified as the moon began its descent from the sky. Every available surface was covered with things, and the floor, too, was no better as Willow's belongings poured out of drawers and cupboards. Tara was not spared, either. Willow left no stone unturned as in her search, somehow managing to keep Buffy asleep all the time. But it didn't help; as the redhead grew more and more desperate, the lurking knowledge at the back of her head that had told her she wouldn't find anything, intensified with her hunt and became a truth.

Just before daybreak, Willow collapsed onto Tara's bed, one tired finger in the air, and she whispered, "Avante." The room cleaned itself and Willow fell into a broken sleep.

When Buffy woke up, an hour later, she looked at Willow and said, with a smile, "Sleepyhead."