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 really, really sorry about the late update. No excuses, except for half-heartedness. Anyways, read and review, please.

4. The Tools in My Hands

"Guess who!"

With a smile, Xander put down his hammer and put covered her hands with his. "Um," He said, playing dumb, "I don't know... Cordy?"

Immediately, Anya whacked him on his back and he turned around, laughing. "Not funny." She pouted.

"I'm sorry, Ahn," He pulled her into his arms, earning cat calls and whistles from his fellow construction workers when he kissed her. "You're just so much fun to irritate."

"Hmph." Anya said, hitting his chest with a closed fist, but smiling.

He grinned, too, and kissed her forehead. "So, to what do I owe this visit?"

Anya brightened instantly, putting away the mock-pout. "I've got something to show you!" She said, putting her hand discreetly into her beige blouse.

Xander, in alarm, looked around and said, "Um, Ahn, remember what we said about how it is a bad idea to have sex in public...?"

But his words were of no use, as Anya had already pulled out what she was searching for. "There!" She said, triumphantly, before paying attention to what Xander had said. "And, yes, I remember; why, is it okay now?"

"No!" Xander said, perhaps a little too hastily. Then, to distract her, he asked, "What's that?"

Anya, if possible, smiled even wider. "My first pay check!" She announced, holding it up so he could see it. "Isn't that amazing!"

"Wow!" Xander said, craning his head to read the text upside down. "It has your name and everything, Ahn! And, look, the money, it has--" He stopped when he saw the number of zeroes on the check. "Anya!" He looked at her with frowning eyes. "I didn't know the Magic Box paid that much!"

"It doesn't!" She grinned, folding the check, carefully pocketing it. "I saved the guy's life today, see. The old shopkeeper died and the new one, his son, knocked over an urn. And you know what a bad idea that is!" She rolled her eyes, and he nodded as though he completely understood her reference. "So, instant demon, and Giles, who happened to be around, killed it with my help. I got a higher pay, and Giles got the shop!" She beamed. "Isn't that great? A promotion within a week and Giles finally gets employment!"

He stared. "What happened to the owner?"

"Said he's leaving town." Anya shrugged uncaringly. "I've still got a job, but Giles is my boss, now."

Xander, eyes wide at the tale, nodded dumbly. "You're buying dinner today," He told her.

"Well, duh!" Anya hooked an arm around his and steered him in the direction of the exit. "We're all going to the bronze, today, even Giles."

"All of us?"

"Yeah, I'm in a great mood!" She leaned over and kissed him. "We can even call Spike!"

Joyce Summers put her purse down on her dressing table and looked into the mirror. It reflected an old woman, with dark circles and tired eyes, matted hair and sunken cheeks.

She was ill.

And today, she'd found out just how ill.

Her hand immediately went to her hair, her fingers tightening around her curls as she backed up against her bed and sank into it. For what seemed like a long time, she sat there, head in hands, willing her tears to come now, because she knew she had to be strong for Buffy later. But they didn't; like her stubborn daughter, they refused to listen to her and eventually, she got up and looked into the mirror again.

Red eyes, now, but dry. Her eyes flew to her hair, to the patch she knew would have to be shaved off if she had a tumor. She couldn't stand it. She grabbed a scrunchie and tied her hair into a scrappy ponytail and, without a look back at the mirror, went into the bathroom.

"Ahem."

Spike jumped into the air as Xander purposefully cleared his throat. "Bloody 'ell, boy!" He cried out, holding a hand to his non-beating heart. "You almost killed me!"

"That'll be the day," Xander replied dryly, moving to lean against the wall, too. "Have you forgotten you're already dead?"

Spike glared daggers at the Slayer's little Slayerette. "It's an expression, Harris. You'd know if you went to college."

"Choosing to ignore that rude remark," Xander continued good-naturedly, "Because I can, I ask you, now, why you're spying on my friends."

"Not spyin'." Spike said stubbornly, pulling out a slim gold box of cigarettes and offering it to Xander, who declined by making a face. "Magic Box's on public property, you know. Can do whatever I feel around it, even if it is stare into the window."

"Ah." Xander said, rolling his eyes, "Of course. How could I forget, Mr. Chip?"

Spike glared.

Suppressing a laugh, Xander walked over to the door of the shop and moved to open the door. "Coming in?"

Spike looked hesitant, then asked, "Is the Slayer in there?"

Xander frowned. "I just came; you should know."

Spike bit his lip. "Couldn' see her." He took a deep drag of his cigarette before throwing it and crushing it with the heel of his boot. "I'll take a chance."

"Brave boy!" Xander remarked, opening the door and walking in. Spike followed and, as they fell into step, Xander asked, "By the way, what'd you do to piss her off at you?"

"Nothing really, this time," Spike replied, looking curiously at the wreckage around him. When they were within hearing range of Giles and Anya, who stood deep in conversation, he said, a little loudly, "Did you try to drag in a troll?"

Anya turned to him with a huge smile. "Hey, Spike, how're you doing? No, it was a demon. I got rid of it, and now Giles owns the shop!" All three men stared at her. She frowned, suddenly self-conscious. "What?"

"Nothing, Anya, nothing," Giles said, pulling off his glasses to polish them. Even then, he couldn't hide the flush of pleasure in his cheeks. "Hello, Spike. Sit down, won't you?"

Spike looked suspiciously from Anya to Xander, Xander to Giles. "Oo-kayyy," He drawled, taking a step backwards. "Are you people on crack?"

"Crack?" Anya echoed. "Of course not. Why'd you think that?"

"Because you're bein' decent to me?" Spike offered mildly.

"You haven't tried to kill any of us, as of late, Spike," Giles pointed out.

"And, of course, there is the fact that they've just made a lot of money today." Xander added.

"Oh." Spike was silent for a minute, then said to Xander, "What about you?"

He jabbed a thumb in Anya's direction. "If I'm good to you, you'll buy stuff from here."

Spike snorted with laughter. "That's rich! Me, buyin' stuff! Christ, how long have you goody-goodies known me again?"

"Four unfortunate years," Willow said as she and Tara emerged from the ladder that led to the top of the shop. "Full of attempted murder, threats, kidnapping and theft."

"Ne'er stole from you, Red."

She grinned. "Just generalizing."

"Okay, guys, enough time down memory lane!" Anya clapped her hands, making Spike rise his brows at Xander, who narrowed his eyes. "If you're all ready, can we please get going?"

"Get goin'?" Spike repeated, "Get goin' where?"

"We're all going to the Br-Bronze," Tara explained, "For a celebration."

"Ah." Spike leaned back on the glass counter, lighting up a cigarette again. "Don't let me keep you waitin'." He swept his arm in the direction of the door.

"You're coming along." Anya told him primly. "And please, no smoking inside the premises." She crushed out the cigarette Spike had dropped.

"Me?" Spike spoke, shocked. "Why me? 'm not goin' to buy anythin', Anyanka."

"You're still coming along!" She insisted, while Giles, Xander and Willow shrugged in the background. "You have contacts; I know you'll prove useful."

Spike frowned at her for a minute, before surveying the rest of the faces. Everyone seemed friendly enough... they were okay to have him there. But, someone was missing... "Where's the Slayer?" He asked.

Anya growled. "She isn't here yet! But let's go; she'll catch on."

"Not if she doesn't know," Xander told her, "She doesn't know anything about all this."

Everyone bit their lips for a moment. Then, Spike said, "You lot get a move on; I'll find her and bring her to the Bronze."

"Really?" Anya asked, eyes bright. "You'll do that for us?"

Inwardly, Spike chortled. Yeah, right. For you. What he said was, "'Course I will."

"And they sent you to get me!"

Spike grinned, walking one step behind the Slayer as they hurried down Revello Drive to her house, so that she could change. "What can I say, Slayer, I can be very..." He glanced at her form, swaying rhythmically from side to side as she walked, "convincing."

Buffy snorted in response, and Spike felt annoyed. "Yeah, right. You couldn't convince your own girlfriend you were good enough for her; you're very convincing, Spike."

"Hey!" Spike said, indignant. "We were long over, it wasn't my fault!"

"Whatever you say." She shot him a look of disgust over her shoulder.

"You're one to talk," Spike added from behind her, "You couldn't even keep a dry bone like Riley!"

"Hey!" She whirled around to face him, and Spike marveled at how even the moonlight was enough to set her hair on fire. "We were long over, okay? It was not my fault!"

They both froze at her words. Then, as Spike grinned a Cheshire grin, Buffy cursed and turned to hurry up the driveway of her house. "See, Slayer? I'm very influent." He leaned against the doorframe as her shaking hands fumbled with the keys. "I like to," He looked at her, head to toe, his eyes smoldering, "leave impressions."

"Drop the seductive act, Spike," Buffy pushed the door open and stepped in, taking off her coat to hang it. "You're lousy at it."

Spike had opened his mouth to retort when they both noticed Joyce.

"Mum!" Buffy rushed to the couch, where Joyce sat with a piece of charcoal and her drawing pad. "How are you? Did you meet with the doc?"

"Hi, sweetie." Joyce leaned forward to stroke Buffy's hair away from her face, in the process turning the page of her drawing pad unnoticeably. "Yes, I did, he also ran a few tests. Reports are in by day after tomorrow, Wednesday."

"Oh." She looked at the empty page, and her mother's stained fingers. "Have you been drawing?"

"Coping with stress." Joyce smiled.

"Okay." Buffy got up and stretched, giving Spike a good view of her toned, golden back. "I'm out Bronzing today, just in to change. Are you feeling good enough for me to go?"

"I'm right as rain." Joyce lied.

Buffy smiled. "That's what I wanted to hear." And she turned and ran up the stairs.

Joyce looked at the vampire, who had been hovering in the foyer all the while. "Hello, Spike."

"Joyce," Spike nodded, coming into the living room. "How're you?"

"Good enough. Sit," She pushed some cushions out of the way to make place for him.

Spike sat, ears listening to the gentle thuds on the floor above him as Buffy undressed. He artfully arranged his duster to hide his reaction from Buffy's mom and talked with her about the Renaissance till Buffy came down half an hour later, dressed in a short, golden slip of a dress, with gold lips and golden eyes.

His words about Michelangelo trailed off and his throat dried.

"How do I look, Mom?" She twirled, showing off her perfect curves and tanned calves to Spike's hungry eyes.

Bloody gorgeous.

"Beautiful, Buffy. Really." Joyce stole a look at Spike. Open mouth, eyes wide. She hid her smile.

"Should I do anything about, well, anything?" She scrunched her nose at the mirror on the wall.

Yeah, you could lie down willingly and let me bury myself in your soft, fucking exquisite body.

"Not at all. You're perfect." "Yeah," Spike had said before he could stop himself, "You're perfect."

Both mother and daughter gave him a funny look at that. Buffy shrugged it off, first, moving to pick a matching jacket and said, "I'll see you later, Mom. Spike, come on."

Spike saluted goodbye to Joyce, who said, "Have fun, kids," like she had when Buffy used to go on dates, earning an amusing look from Buffy before the door slammed behind the two blondes, and the sounds of bickering returned.

When Joyce was sure they were far away, she pulled out the paper she had hidden from them. And, as Spike and Buffy quarreled down to the Bronze, Joyce traced their features on her black and white sketch of them on yellowing paper, embracing, Buffy's head on Spike's shoulder and his hands locked in the small of her back.