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: Thanks for your feedback; I really wanted to show do a chapter about the Bronze outing, but I decided against it (obviously). I'll do bits of it, though; don't worry, you'll get what you want. As always, let me know what you think.

6. Enchanted

"Um, Wills ... I don't know how to tell you this, but I don't think Mrs. Summers likes her guests to be poking around her living room while they're supposed to be on the phone ..."

Willow instantly straightened from where she was going over the contents of a drawer in the Summers living room. "Oh, hey, Xander." She smiled guiltily and gave him a little wave. "I was just ... uh, well, I was ..."

"Looking for something?" Xander leaned against the wall, light and curious eyes scanning those of his best friend. "Tell me; maybe I can help?"

"No, Xander." Willow sighed and sat down on the coffee table. "You can't help." She put her chin on her folded fist, taking the sleeve of her sweater into her mouth.

"Hey," He said, sitting down next to her and pulling the light blue garment out of her mouth. "None of that, now! It's a bad habit! Plus," He added with a grin, "It cost me a lot."

She smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder. "Oh, Xander." She sighed, "You can't help."

"Pardon me for asking, but are we on repeat, here?" He pushed a strand of hair away from her forehead. "What're you looking for, Willow?"

Willow bit her lip.

Xander frowned. "Willow ..." He said warningly, "Don't even think of lying ..."

"Oh, fine." She said, annoyed. She straightened and looked at her laced fingers for a long time before saying, "I've lost a paper, Xander. A really, really important paper."

He frowned. "What did it have on it?"

"Well," She said, obviously having a very hard time trying to explain, "That's why it's so hard to find. It has – or, at least, had – nothing on it."

Xander looked at her confusedly. "O-kayyy," Xander said, "Not quite sure I follow you, Wills ..."

"See," She said, standing up suddenly to pace, "That's the thing! Nobody understands!" She turned to him and said this last part in a loud stage whisper, raiding her hands upwards to give it an effect of dramatic despair.

"I might if you explain," Xander said, "Not that stupid, you know."

"Oh, pfff." Willow waved a hand in the air, "You aren't stupid."

"Then come on! Sit here." He patted the spot on the coffee table she had vacated. "Tell me."

Willow sat down, albeit reluctantly, and sighed. "You sure you—

"Can handle it?" He shrugged. "Pretty much. Been turned into a hyena; been chased by every female in town; seen Buffy and Spike make with the smoochies," He shuddered, "But let's not talk about that ... yeah, Willow. I can handle it."

"That's not what I was going to say."

"Oh." Xander bit his lip. "Makes me feel stupid about that long speech, suddenly."

"That's fine. I meant that ..." She took a breath, "You can't tell anyone, Xander. Do you understand that?"

He frowned. "Is it something bad?"

"Of course not." Willow waved him off.

"Well, then... Nobody? Not even Buffy?"

"No, not even Buffy."

"Anya?"

"Especially NOT Anya."

"Giles?"

"NO!"

Xander stared at her. "Alright ..." Then, just to annoy her, he added, "Tara?"

"Xander! No!"

"Fine, I got it." He grinned. "Not a peep. Now tell me; what's so secret-secret?"

"Buffy?"

Maybe I should wear those new jeans ... they'll go great with that white, lacy peasant top Mom got me ...

"Um, Buff? You done with your plate, or are you going to continue drawing strange symbols in the gravy ..."

No, that seems too obvious. Oh, there is that new grey sweatshirt! But grey is so ... grey. Ugh, way to depress, Buff.

"Buffy?"

Hey, I got it!

"Buffy!"

"I got it!" The fingers of Buffy's free hand snapped in the air and she, grinning, looked up at the faces around her, only to find them looking back at her with confused frowns. "Um ... hi, guys!"

"Buffy," Joyce said from where she stood near the sink, "What's the matter with you? I've asked for your plate five times, now."

The Slayer looked at Xander and Willow, who nodded in confirmation. She swallowed and said, "Uh ... sorry, Mom? I spaced out."

Joyce sighed and extended her hand again. "Give it quickly, now. My headache's stirred up, again ..."

Xander stood up before Buffy could. "Then you should get some rest, Mrs. Summers; I'll do up the plates, don't worry."

"No, Xander," Joyce smiled, "That's quite alright; I can manage."

"No, Mom." Buffy said, standing and moving to take the dishes out of Joyce's hands. "He's right. You should rest."

Joyce bit her lips, looking at her china dishes. "A-are you sure, kids? I don't want you breaking something ..."

"Nonsense!" Willow grinned. "We do it all the time at our parents' homes."

"And our own," Xander added, smiling proudly. "At least, those of us who gave our own homes ... hint, hint."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Oh, wow, Xander, you have your own apartment!" Her dry voice would have put the Sahara to shame.

"Yes, I do!" Xander grinned, blissfully unaware of the sarcasm, "And, by the way, nobody has given me a housewarming gift yet ... hint, hint."

"You need to have a housewarming party first, dumbo." Buffy lightly whacked him upside on the head, then turned back to her mom. "See? We can manage without killing each other!"

"It's not your welfare I'm worried about." Joyce lifted her eyebrows at the plate Buffy was holding.

"Oh, it's the china you're vexed about!" Xander shook his head and took the plate from Buffy. "Don't worry, Mrs. Summers; Buffy doesn't get to touch them."

Joyce laughed. "Now I'm happy." Ruffling Willow's hair as she passed by, she headed up the spiral kitchen stairs. "Thanks, kids!"

"Ahhhh," Xander sighed, turning the tap to let the water flow, "The joys of domestic work ..."

Buffy and Willow shared a look. Then Willow stood up and said, "Well, I'm going to go, now." She grabbed her backpack from where it lay on the floor and shrugged it on. "Lots to do, you know ... afternoon classes that I can attend, even if I didn't attend the morning ones ..."

"Yeah," Buffy nodded in agreement. "Lots to do..." Her eyes flickered on the list of groceries that lay on the counter.

"Bye, then. I'll see you around." Willow waved at them, smiling a little.

"Bye Wills," Buffy said and Xander echoed. She left through the back door, letting in the early afternoon sunshine through the door for a second before it shut behind her.

"Xander," Buffy said suddenly, "Don't you think Willow's acting strange?"

"Strange?" Xander repeated, frowning at Buffy by turning his head around. "Why say you that?"

"Well ..." Buffy frowned, trying to pinpoint exactly why she'd said that. "I'm not sure ... but she seems so distracted, don't you think?"

He shrugged, trying hard to keep a neutral face. "I guess so."

"Yeah, she does," Buffy said, mostly to herself. Then, shaking her head, she told him, "Keep washing; I'll change, then we can get the food." She headed for the stairs.

"And drop DeadBoy Jr.'s coat off, remember that."

Buffy paused, her foot in the air, hand on the railing. A small smile filtered through. "Yeah, I will."

In her room, upstairs, Buffy looked at her reflection in the mirror. And smiled.

As she had reached out to shut her closet doors, her eyes fell on the golden dress from the last night, hanging limply from the hook it had been on ever since she had woken up and showered. Hesitantly, she pulled at it and held it up in front of her body, turned and looked at herself in the mirror.

Till last night, she hadn't understood what was so special about that dress. Now, it seemed almost as though it had been made to follow every curve and arc of her body, even when it was just pressed against her like the way it was right then.

The color, she noticed, was almost the same as her skin, only shinier on the silk. She reached up and pulled at the scrunchie that held her hair together. As her locks tumbled, sparkling in the sunlight that sneaked in through the windows, Buffy thought she understood why the British vampire, and a lot of other men she didn't care about, had been so entranced with her.

She looked like a goddess, those Greek ones in Giles' color encyclopedias. And she was glad that she could still be beautiful.

She reached out, slowly, to touch her reflection, cautious because it might disappear. Her fingers were about to come in contact with the glass when there was a sharp rap on her door.

"Buffster?" Xander said, "You ready?"

"Y-yeah, just a min-minute!" She was surprised her voice fumbled. She whirled away from a new-founded face of hers and hung the dress back where it belonged. Tying up her hair again, messily, she turned and looked at herself in the mirror.

Tight blue jeans, suede ankle boots in brown, and a short sleeved, tan blouse. She added huge, silver hoops and quickly lined her eyes, then studied herself again.

"Great," She mumbled, turning to grab a stake from the table beside the door. "All Slayer-like, yet ... complementing." She opened the door, and grinned at Xander. "Been waiting long?" She asked innocently.

He grinned back at her. "Not too long. I've just been able to memorize the lines on the planks of wood of your floor." He noticed her apparel, and said, "Whoa, tiger; dressed to kill, eh?"

She winked. "When am I not?"

Shaking his head, Xander turned to move downstairs. Buffy started following him, but then stopped. She pulled the scrunchie out again, threw it into her room aimlessly, and followed Xander.

"Finally!"

Buffy blinked in the sudden darkness as her eyes struggled to get accustomed to the dimly lit crypt. Beside her, Xander grabbed her arm protectively, the other holding the pillar in the middle of the crypt to balance them. He muttered something as Spike came into view, but said loudly, "Gee, we're sorry, master, we should've come earlier to give you your weird, smelly leather garment back!"

"Xander." Buffy said in a nearly inaudible, warning whisper. "Don't."

Spike, who didn't hear this, chuckled. "Good boy, Harris. Anticipated as much from you." He pulled out a slim golden box of cigarettes and lit up, taking a deep drag as his eyes, shadowed deeply, searched the two who stood near the entrance to his crypt. "Didn' expect a whole, bleedin' party to escort my coat back to me, though." He cocked his head and looked at Buffy. "'Ello there, Slayer. Don't quite fit with this dank background, now do you, luv?" He chuckled, derisive. "But, then, hardly any background fits you ... 'cept those with huge poofs who hurt you, eh?"

Buffy didn't say anything at first, her mind, unbidden, calling up pictures from last night at the Bronze.

Toppling over, laughing, her hands in the air, Buffy followed Xander's wild dancing steps as the undulating sea of warm, moving bodies shifted around her. Xander grabbed her hand, held it over her head and spun her, over and over, round and round, until all Buffy could hear was her laughter, merging with the music, and all she could feel were the tiny thuds of her heeled shoes hitting the dance floor ...

Xander suddenly let go of her hands and Buffy, unbalanced, almost fell over. But a pair of strong hands grabbed her at her upper arms, straightening her to a standing position. Buffy opened her mouth to say thanks, but then she saw who it was, and all her words died on her tongue.

"Hello, Buffy."

She shuddered; she loved the way he said her name, the way it just rolled off his tongue like he'd been saying that simple word all his life.

Or, maybe in his case, unlife.

She summoned the courage to look into his eyes and when she did, the clear, periwinkle blue color in them made her tense body relax. She even smiled a little. "Hi, Spike. Having a good time?"

The smirk she'd been trying to ignore disappeared, a true smile coming in its place. He said softly, "I am now."

Maybe it was the mood; maybe it was her dress; it could've been the alcohol she'd been drinking, or his suddenly gentle behavior. But whatever made her relax in his arms, also gave him the guts to say, "Wanna dance?"

And, the same thing or force, made her say, "Okay." Then, something seemed to click and she asked, "With you? Can you dance?"

He grinned. "You'll just 'ave to see."

As though it was planned, the second Spike's hand found the small of her back, the fast-paced dance music suddenly changed to a slower song, with a haunting melody that echoed in their ears. Groups of people dancing together made way for couples and soon, the dance floor was full of embracing couples, pressing as close as society would allow, yet craving more.

Buffy and Spike were no different.

Her hands locked together at the nape of his neck, her feet moving forwards to bridge the space between them. Buffy sighed contently as her head rested on his chest – she hadn't dated too many men who were just the right height for her to keep her head anywhere except their solar plexus. He smiled at her, though she didn't see, and lowered his head so his nose grazed her golden mass of hair, inhaling her perfume, his hand pulling her even closer to him so that she could feel every hard plane of his chest ...

She shook her head to get rid of the image. What he'd just said hit her and, ignoring the shooting pang that her chest experienced, she scowled at him. "You're right, Spike. This background doesn't fit me. So," She walked forwards and held out his coat, "here's your duster; take it so I can go."

Both men stared at her. Xander stared at the sudden change in her mood, and the abruptness she was using. Spike was confused, because he thought he'd seen a slight glitter of feeling in her eyes. "Um, sorry if I upset you, Slayer – didn' know you were so touchy today."

Buffy didn't say anything, just kept holding out the coat.

Frowning in apprehension and concern, Spike hesitantly approached her and took the coat from her arms. "Yeah," He said gruffly, "Thanks. To you two, and Joyce."

"Great." Buffy's voice was completely flat, stripped of feeling. She turned and moved to leave. "C'mon, Xander; let's go."

But as she tried to move past him, Xander grabbed her arm and halted her. "Wait, Buff." He looked at Spike, frowning, and said, "Why did you let him get away with the insults?"

"Xander," Buffy said quietly, "I don't have the time."

"Hey, the supermarket isn't going anywhere." Xander tried to turn her around and face Spike, but Buffy held firm and he said, "Look, I'm not going to say anything to this-this stupid wimpire!" This earned a squeak of indignation from Spike. "But you have to. Because he's just going to keep on insulting you, over and over, and, I'm sorry Buff, but I don't like it, really, and—"

"Hey, listen to me, you lackbrain," Spike interrupted, "'ve apologized, in case you've gone deaf as much as you are daft! Just said I was sorry! What else am I to do! My tongue runs away sometimes; it's not my fault!"

"Yeah right," Xander snorted, "You're just going to keep insulting her and us again and again if she doesn't shut you up!" Turning to Buffy, he said, "Why don't you just stake him, Buff, and give us all a chance to live in peace—"

"Because, unlike you and most of your super friends, 'm actually useful!"

"Oh, yeah? In what? Recording animal behavior?"

"Oh, that's it, you poof; you are so—"

"Stop it!" Buffy yelled.

Immediately, the two men, who had been inching towards each other so that they were practically nose to nose, pulled apart. Xander looked down, Spike scratched his head.

"What kind of Neanderthal-like behavior was that!"

"Buff, this assface—"

"Slayer, you were here. He started it! Don't you—"

"Again, shut up!" They did. She glared at them, breathing hard. When she was a bit calmer, she sighed and said, "Xander, stop irritating Spike."

Xander and Spike's mouths fell open. After a few minutes of gawping, Xander, asked, "Di-did you just take his side?"

"No," She tried to explain patiently, "I just said—

"You did, didn't you? You took his side!" Xander shook his head. "That's it; I'm leaving." And, whirling about, he stalked out of the crypt.

"Xander, wait!" Buffy called after him, turning to go but being stopped when Spike jumped into her path. She sighed, again, and asked, "What now?"

He eyed her suspiciously. Then, he said, somewhat accusingly, "You jus' took my side."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

"No, I didn't"

"Yes, you did."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you —" He sighed, realizing they could do this all night; they both were stubborn mules, he knew. So, instead, he said, "Something's wrong, 'ere, Goldilocks." His eyes, the same ones that held her captive last night, scanned her skeptically. "What do you want from me?"

Buffy stared at him for a stunned second, then, making a sound of disgust, turned on her heel and followed the path Xander took, out of the crypt.