Small Fry

by James Walkswithwind and Mad Poetess

Part One

The back room of the shop was utter chaos. Not the normal type of 'we're about to go to war/class/we're just training, but doesn't it look cool' chaos. This was the worst sort of chaos.

This was too many people trying to help.

Normally, Rupert Giles would have enjoyed having assistance lugging all the boxes that had arrived. But the number of boxes he'd received warranted only the assistance of one, perhaps two people. What he had, instead, was Buffy, Willow, Xander, and Spike, all shuffling boxes, opening them, and God help him, unpacking them, while Tara watched the front of the store.

He was going to misplace half his new inventory in one afternoon.

"Buffy, for God's sake, put that down, it's absolutely priceless!"

Buffy quickly set down the large jade figurine. Then she frowned at him. "It's nine ninety- five, marked down from eleven-fifty."

He gave her a stern glare. "That's a correction on the date of origin, not the price."

"That's Anya-territory, then," Xander said, hefting a large box of terribly breakable objects on his shoulder. "Stick it on her desk so she can ID it when she gets back."

"Xander, please be careful!" Rupert said, for the dozenth time. Xander nodded, and continued carrying the box on his shoulder, over to the desk. Spike helped him set it on the table, and Rupert leaned back against the counter.

"Oo, what is this?" Buffy held up an object that looked like a pink plastic sword.

Rupert glanced over. "It appears to be a pink plastic sword. Does anyone have the manifest?"

"Hey, watch it!" Xander snapped, then when Rupert looked over with dread and suspicion, Spike and Xander just smiled at him.

"Oh, dear lord," Rupert breathed. He waded through the piles of packing material, and gave a genuine smile to Willow, who at least was being careful with the box she was unpacking. Then again, she was unpacking books, so she was only being careful because she was stopping with each book and skimming through it. Heaven only knew what she and Tara were learning that they shouldn't-- but he was long past ever trying to stop the two of them from delving into Things Man Was Not Meant To Know. Willow would (and had done in the past) just point out that neither of them were 'man' and keep on reading.

"Hey, Watcher..." came Spike's voice. Particularly innocent, which made Rupert 's blood run cold. It always had, it always would, no matter how more-or-less decent Spike was these days. Of course, these days it was usually because he'd...

"What have you broken, Spike?"

"Broken? Broken! I like that. Here I was going to be helpful and...well, now forget it. Not saying a word." Spike turned his back to Rupert, and peered into the box.

Rupert sighed and walked over. "What did you break, Spike?"

"Hey, Xander, do you have the tall and funky pile?" Buffy asked, handing something to him.

"Yeah, over there." He took it from her, and looked at it before nudging Spike. "Hey, put this with the other 'tall and funky' things."

"Tall and funky?" Rupert asked, still trying to see what Spike might have done. "Haven't you people learned *anything* in the years you've-- good lord! Spike, put that down at once!"

"Why, don't it qualify as tall and funky? Only thing taller or funkier I've seen round here is this git." Pointing to Xander with the object, then handing it to him.

"Xander, don't--"

Xander took it, then mimed sniffing his armpits. "I am *not* funky; I showered three hours ago."

Rupert was trying to make his way over to them, past the piles of styrofoam-peanut- overflowing boxes. "Xander, honestly, put that down now!"

Xander obediently set it on a nearby table, still sniffing-- and Buffy picked it up. "I think it's tall and funky. We'll never get it filed properly if we put it in *my* stack, which is the 'short and green' stack." She held it back out.

Xander took it once more, and handed it back to Spike, who took it and turned towards the tall and funky pile.

"I'm serious!" Rupert snapped. "Put that down at once!" He'd just made it to Spike's side, when he realized that Spike had got rid of it.

By handing it to him. Which he'd taken, apparently by reflex.

"Oh, bloody hell." He set it down on the table, and sighed. "Please, no one else touch it; no one who has touched it, touch it again."

Xander, Spike, and Buffy looked at each other, then looked at him, faces beginning to show real fear. "Should we be looking for a spell?" Buffy asked. "To undo whatever it is we just did?"

Rupert looked at them, and honestly wondered if he had a shop full of legal adults, or pre- schoolers. They all looked as if they were afraid they would be sent to their rooms without supper. Which didn't sound like a half bad idea. "That would be wonderful. If I *knew* what you just did. All I'm certain of is that you've touched an ancient Mesopotamian artifact, the literal translation of whose name is "The thing you shouldn't touch if you know what's good for you." That actually wasn't entirely true. The *literal* translation was 'tall, funky thing'. But it was commonly translated as "the thing you shouldn't touch" by those who commonly translated from ancient Mesopotamian.

Several long strands of hair had escaped Buffy's ponytail during her stint as an unrequested helper, and she blew them away from her face. "I don't believe ancient Mesopotamian guys would give something a name like that. Maybe the "Thing that's tall and funky and won't fit on the discount shelf."

Rupert pointed to the inscription on the base of the tall and funky item in question. "I can give you a dictionary, and you can translate it for yourself." Which was not bloody likely, so he was fairly safe from having to confess that she was right. " In the meantime, the rest of us will have to do some research to figure out what it is and what it...oh, bugger all."

The four of them looked at each other.

"Oh my goodness!" Willow exclaimed, and Spike, Xander, Buffy and Rupert looked up at her.

"My jeans're falling off," Spike complained.

"And your voice is all squeaky," Tara said from the doorway. "Have you been sucking the helium again? You know that's only for the free balloons, Sp.... Oh my goodness."

"I said that," Willow pointed out.

"It bears repeating," Rupert said as he looked up at both of them. Quite far up.

"You're a little kid!" Xander said, laughing and pointing at Spike.

"So're you-- and your jeans're falling off too," Spike shot back.

And they were. Little kids, that is, although it was true that Xander's jeans were also falling towards his knees. Xander made no attempt to grab them -- neither did Spike, though Buffy was clutching her skirt, and Rupert... suddenly looked down and found his trousers puddled about his feet.

His size ten feet. The *wrong* size ten. "I believe I know what the artifact is for," he commented.

"Does this mean there's a reversal spell?" Willow asked, and when Rupert looked up at her, she giggled. "You four are just so adorable."

Spike scowled. "I am *not* -- well, yes, I am. Go on."

Xander smacked him on the arm, and Spike smacked him back. Buffy waded through the styrofoam peanuts and the fabric of her skirt, and grabbed Xander's shirt. "Stop it!" she said in what was meant to be a stern Slayer voice. Spike and Xander stopped, long enough to stick their tongues out at her.

"Well, at least the thing didn't affect our personalities," Rupert observed.

"He has a personality?" Xander asked, pointing at Spike. "He must've pulled it out of one of these boxes, then, 'cause he didn't have one this morning."

"What part of 'stop it' didn't you understand?" Buffy asked him, yanking on his shirt. He stumbled forward, knocking her into Spike.

"And Buffy still has her Slayer superpowers," Xander said, rubbing his head where he'd cracked it against Buffy's.

"But not necessarily her natural grace," Rupert commented softly. Somewhere between a snide aside and a legitimate observation of the spell's effects, and also apparently not softly enough, because Buffy stuck her own tongue out at him.

"Well, my legs aren't as long as they usually are," she said, with only a trace of whine in her voice.

Xander was still rubbing his head, and Spike offered to kiss it for him. Rupert turned back to Willow. "I suspect we are going to need some assistance getting the books down off the shelves so we can research this." Willow and Tara just stood there for a moment, looking at them. After a moment, Giles put his hands on his hips and glared. "What?"

Willow and Tara exchanged glances, grinning now, then as one they moved forward.

All four 'kids' got their cheeks pinched.

; ********************

"Hey, I'm here... Where are you guys?" Dawn's voice echoed into the back of the shop, and Willow came up to meet her.

"They're in the office. Did you have enough money to get clothes for everybody?"

Dawn nodded, blowing a purple bubble-gum bubble at the same time. "Yeah, no problem. Um, as long as I get paid back. I *am* getting paid back, right?"

"Of course!" Willow assured her, then smiled, and walked over to the cash register, where Tara was ringing up a sale. "Give me the receipt."

Dawn handed it over, and headed towards the office with the bags. She stopped in the doorway, and stared. Willow walked up behind her after a moment, and couldn't help smiling at the sight before them. Giles was sitting at his desk, reading something. Buffy was sitting on the desk with another book, and Spike and Xander were in separate corners with their noses pressed to the wall.

"Don't Spike and Xander have to help?" Dawn asked, with a remarkably straight face.

"They *are* helping," Giles replied. He looked up. "Ah, good. You have clothing, I presume?"

"Yeah." A tiny grin appeared. "I had to buy what was on sale. I hope you guys like the Power Puff girls." She began pulling out t-shirts, shorts, and underwear -- all pink and white.

"I want Buttercup!" Spike shouted, and jumped away from his corner.

"Who said you could get out of the corner, Spike," Willow asked, though she was grinning. She couldn't help herself. The sight of a pint-sized Spike-- four, five years old, maybe? -- was enough to make anybody grin. His hair fluffed out around his face in a light-brown cloud, curling naturally, and his eyes were about the size of the bubble Dawn had just blown.

"Only did it in the first place 'cos it was fun, so sod off, witchy woman," he answered, reasonably politely for Spike.

"I want Buttercup," Buffy said, jumping off the desk. "You can have Bubbles." She tried to grab a shirt and shorts out of her little...younger sister's hands, and got thumped on the arm by Spike.

"Children! Please!" Giles snapped, but it did no good. Though he was standing in his chair now, so he could attempt to tower over them, he looked as four-year-old-ish as the rest of them, and his voice of authority was no longer anything of the sort.

Dawn held out a set of clothes. "You can have Mojo Jojo," she offered.

Spike made a face. "Bloody git can't ever pull off a plan properly 'cos he always has to brag about it. What kind of villain is he?"

"The sort that I'm going to be wearing in about five seconds, and you'll be stuck with the blonde one who talks to squirrels, if you don't just take it and put it on, Spike," Giles said, his irritation becoming more and more obvious.

"I guess we know who's gonna be Blossom, then, don't we," Xander said with a grin. "Bossy, bossy, bossy." He was already pulling the Bubbles shirt over his own head, with a little what- the-hell-I've-worn-stupider-clothes-for-a-living shrug.

*He* looked... Willow couldn't really remember what Xander had looked like as a four-year- old, because she'd been four herself. But she had pictures, and the goofy wide grin was the same. The easygoing confidence that it didn't matter if he looked like an idiot-- that was new, and so was the sparkle in the big brown cartoon-boy eyes.

As was the way he was copping a feel of a certain changing-clothes vampire beside him. Then Xander scrunched up his face. "Eew. OK, that just seems wrong."

Spike turned around. "What? Was I not in the right spot? Got a bad angle?" Four-year-old Spike wriggled his butt.

Xander shook his head. "You're *four*, Spike. I can't. I just...."

"So're you."

"Yeah, but--"

Spike sighed. "All right. Close your eyes, then." Xander did so. "You feel four years old?"

"No."

"Right, then." And Spike kissed him.

Xander grinned. "Cool."

"I've asked you not to do that in front of me," Giles said with a sigh. He glared as everyone started giggling. "What?"

"Giles..." Willow pointed at him. He looked down at his shirt, then his shorts, then his bare feet.

"What?"

"You're *four*!" Willow said, then she collapsed into giggles. Along with everyone else in the room.

"Oh, for Christ's sake."

"Giles, watch your mouth," she said sternly, or tried to, through her laughter.

"Do *you* need to go in time out?" Spike asked with an air of deep concern.

"I am *not* four years old," Giles protested, "no matter how much I may look it. I believe Xander and Spike have just given evidence that they aren't either. Please--" He held up one hand. "Save the comments about them always behaving like preschoolers. While accurate, they don't further our researches into the ramifications of our current condition."

Dawn mirrored him by raising her own hand, and Willow felt the insane urge to call on her. Giles saved her the trouble. "Yes, Dawn?" he asked patiently.

"Could you say 'ramifications' again? It just sounds so sweet with that cute little lisp!"

************

It took them a few minutes to get everyone sorted out -- Tara fetched more books, and soon everyone was studying. More or less studying, Spike and Xander were tussling over who got to lie on the rug where the floor wasn't cold, and everyone else was taking turns denying that it was their turn to separate the two.

When Dawn asked Buffy, who was seated with a book of her own, if she needed crayons, chaos erupted again for a moment. Buffy demonstrated that she still had her Slayer powers -- and Dawn proved that being tall could make up for a lot. She held Buffy upside-down until her sister promised not to knock her over, again. Giles' scolding them did no good, and finally he followed Tara into the other room, and climbed up the bookcase to fetch another book he wanted.

And was grabbed by a customer, who started scolding him for doing something so dangerous. "Look, I am *not*..." Giles spluttered, and Tara had to come to his rescue-- and get him to shut up.

"Supposed to be out here by yourself, young man," she covered quickly. "Now get right back in there and sit down."

"But I want..." He obviously realized she was right, as his experience with smoothing over Slayer-related situations came to the fore, and he lowered his voice to a sullen whisper. "Just wanted the LaVaux Treatise."

"Well, next time, let a grown-up get your mom's book for her. You're too small to be out here climbing shelves and getting into trouble!" She smiled brightly and thanked the man who had 'rescued' Giles, before grabbing the book in question and shooing the four-year-old Watcher into the back room before her.

Giles went, muttering under his breath in what was obviously not English. He stomped over to his desk -- then stopped, and shook himself. He turned to Tara and accepted the book she was holding out, with much more dignity than he'd shown. "Thank you, Tara. Perhaps it would be best if we closed the shop for the time being."

"Shouldn't be too hard. There's nobody left but that last guy, anyway, and he's just pricing crystal balls and looking at the pictures of naked dryads -- not planning on buying today." Tara stood in the doorway, where she could watch both the shop, and the goings-on in the back.

"Oo! Is this it? Tall and funky?" Buffy called out, and jumped up with the book she was holding. It was as large as she was, though she carried it easily over to Giles. "The... Urdek-uh?" she read slowly.

He peered at the page, and nodded excitedly. "The Urdeku. It is! Wonderful, now let me just see...." He trailed off as he read, the others gathered around watching him. Finally he looked up. "There is a reversal spell. A rather easy one, at that."

There was a brief scuffle, as Xander and Spike rolled around on the floor, yelling, " Me! Me! My turn! I wanna say it!"

Xander, having won by dint of the fact that he was sitting on Spike's head, effectively cutting off any attempt Spike might make, finally wheezed, "Okay-- what's the catch?"

"Have to eat bugs?" Buffy guessed. It was a reasonable, if gross, thought. Tara had never come up against a bug-eating spell, herself, but some of the cures for curses tended to be as nasty, or worse, than the original effects.

"Eew! I'm not staying to watch that, thank you," Dawn said, wrinkling her nose in that way that she swore was totally and completely different from the way Buffy did it.

"No..." Giles began, but Spike pushed Xander over and shot his head up.

"Tantric? 'Cos I can do tantric. I mean, it's a big sacrifice and all, but anything for you lot."

Xander gave him a finger flick to the ear. "You can *not* do tantric, you're four years old!"

"Can too!"

"Can..."

"Shut UP! Shut up! Shut up, shut up!" Giles climbed up on the desk again. "Be quiet, all of you!" They actually subsided, and looked at him. Three pair of round, wide eyes looked up at him, and he sighed. "I am never having children of my own. I'm saying this *right* now, and I mean it." He rubbed at his face, looking a tad startled when his hand encountered no glasses, then he continued. "The spell is rather easy, and we have all the ingredients right here. However--"

"I *knew* there was a however," Buffy muttered. Dawn whapped her lightly on the head. "Ow!"

"Baby. I didn't hurt you."

"What's the 'however', Giles?" Willow asked hurriedly.

"We have to perform the spell under the waning moon. Which is two weeks from now."

He definitely got his requested silence then, as tall people and short people looked at each other with varying degrees of shock and horror.

"Two *weeks*?" Buffy repeated eventually. "But... I've got classes! Wait, what am I saying-- yay, no classes. But... patrolling!"

"You won't miss more than a few classes. Spring Break starts this weekend." Xander pointed out. "You know, girls, fun, sun, beer, all those things I don't do these days."

Spike smacked him, then gave his requisite 'ow.' They'd stopped listening for it after the first week. "What, I'm not fun and Anya's not a girl?"

"Yes, you're not fun, and no, Anya's not a girl, she's a woman. Which I'm..." Xander looked down at his Powerpuff shorts. "Not equipped to deal with for two whole weeks. This sucks."

"Hey, look at it this way, mate," Spike said, slinging an arm around Xander's shoulder. "You can wander about and get 'lost', and pretty girls will pick you up and give you treats while they try to help you find your mum."

Xander frowned at him for a second, then grinned. Willow walked over to them, and stood there, hands on her hips. "Am I going to have to put you two in daycare for two weeks?"

"You wouldn't!" Spike protested. "I'd turn into ashes the first time we got sent out to the playground."

"Sun allergy. They'll keep you inside and make you play with clay."

Willow glared back at him until Spike grumbled his defeat. "It's not fair, she didn't used to be that much taller'n me."

"Nope. Only a little bit taller," Xander teased. "Shortie."

"*Don't* you start up again, young man," Willow ordered, giving him a glare that had always made even his adult-bodied self behave.

"Hello? Spring break equals no classes equals nice, but who's gonna help me patrol?" Buffy had a little bit of whine in her voice, like 'Hey, nobody's paying attention to me...'

"*Help* you patrol? Um, I hate to say this, Buff..."

"Then don't, Will. No *way* am I not patrolling."

"But you're three and a half feet tall!"

"Yeah, you'd need a stepladder just to stake vamps in the bits that a four-year-old ain't supposed to know exist!" Spike said helpfully.

"Look who's talking, mini-vamp!" Buffy turned on him, and Willow put a hand on her shoulder.

"Not you, too. Look, Tara and Dawn and I will take turns patrolling."

"I get to patrol? Awesome!" Dawn shot a power-fist into the air.

"No! You are *not* patrolling," Buffy folded her arms, and for a moment looked exactly like herself.

Dawn just gave her a look. "Do I have to hold you upside-down, again?"

"Look, there's no reason why Buffy can't patrol," Giles began, and was interrupted by a cheer and some shouts. "As long as she doesn't go alone," he concluded at a much louder volume. "It would be very dangerous -- Buffy, you remember when you tried to kick Spike? Your balance is all off, and you could easily be hurt."

"I can practice! Come here, Spike!" Spike ducked behind Xander.

"In the meantime, we have to figure out what we're going to do. I would suggest we simply stay home, and out of trouble...."

He looked around the room, and Tara followed his gaze. Buffy was trying to crawl over Xander to get to Spike, and Spike was taunting her and keeping Xander in between them. Dawn was laughing, while Willow tried to stop doing so long enough to separate the three. "Oh, dear lord." Giles sat down on his desk. "I need a drink."

"No, you don't," Tara said firmly. "That stuff'll stunt your growth."

; **************

Part Two

"Oh, I like these. They'd look so cute on you." Willow held up a pair of Osh-Kosh b'gosh overalls against Giles, measuring them. The brown-haired little boy tried to adjust the glasses he wasn't wearing, then just settled for crossing his arms.

"I am *not* wearing that... kindergear."

Willow put the blue corduroy overalls in her basket anyway. "I'm sorry, but they don't seem to *have* any tweed suits in your size, Giles."

"Oh, very funny. I haven't worn tweed in at least two years. But there's a difference between casual attire and something that has a large giraffe embroidered on the front pocket. I'm not too keen on wearing anything with one front pocket, to begin with."

"You can put your dignity in it, Rupes," Spike called out from where he was standing, looking at the pint-sized jeans.

"Thank you for your support," Giles told him. "Now, even *I* know that they do manufacture clothing for children which does not make one look like an idiot."

At that, Xander came jumping out from behind the other rack of clothes. "Look! Look! I found one!" He was wearing a red shirt with a yellow lightening bolt on it. "In my size!"

Giles rolled his eyes as Willow giggled. Tara came around the rack, then, and gave Willow a smile. "Sorry. I keep trying to control them, and...."

"And they act like four-year-olds," Willow finished. "Maybe we should send them to look at something else, while we pick out the clothes."

"Yeah? Like what? They got dirty mags, here?" Spike wandered over, tossing a pair of black frayed jeans into Willow's basket. Willow whapped him on the butt. "Oi! That *hurt*!" Spike rubbed his shorts-clad behind. "I'm littler than you now."

"Oh, don't be a baby. You're as bad as-- Buffy, put that *down*!" Willow ducked around the three pseudo-children to grab a twenty-pound barbell from Buffy's hands.

"Why? I can lift it, no problem. I still have my Slayer strength."

"Yeah, but you can't let people *see* a four-year-old girl lifting a barbell!" Willow sighed. "Look, the four of you know you have to keep your cover. Either behave and let us pick out clothes you can wear -- or you'll be wearing Power Puff girls for two weeks. Or wander around and look at *something* and stay out of trouble!" She shook her head, trying to remind herself that the four-year-olds were *not* four. Even if they were acting like it.

"Hey, I saw that first!"

"Did not! It's mine!"

"Find your own!"

"Give that back!"

She stomped over. "Spike, Xander, don't *make* me send you out to the car."

Both boys stuck their tongues out at her. "Like we couldn't drive it away," Xander said.

"You couldn't even see over the dashboard," she reminded them.

"Could if I sat on someone's lap," Spike said with a leer in Xander's general direction.

"Okay, that's just disturbing. Don't do that." Innocent blue eyes. Spike really should have been wearing the Bubbles shirt. She rolled her own eyes. "What are you two fighting over?"

Xander looked down at the floor. Spike looked up at the ceiling.

Willow heaved a sigh that Anya probably heard in New York City, where she was attending a convention on commercial uses of magic, and not-so-incidentally schmoozing up an old friend from her demon days who was in possession of a rare text that Giles desperately wanted to add to his collection. If *she'd* been here-- well, Xander and Spike would still be acting this way, but at last there would be someone around who had a more immediate influence over them than Willow did.

Reaching between the not-really-boys, Willow pulled out... "Legos? You're fighting over Legos?"

"It's the pirate cove," Spike muttered.

Xander turned evilly puppy-ish wide eyes on Willow. "I've always wanted the pirate cove Legos, Willow. You know that."

"So why haven't you gone to the toy store before now, and gotten it?" she asked him. Buffy started giggling, standing behind Willow, and she could hear Giles telling Tara to get that nice solid blue shirt down from the rack.

"Bloody hell, it's got a turtle on it. What is *wrong* with this culture? You can't dress children in decent, un-embarrassing clothing?"

Willow was still staring at Xander, who was silent, apparently still trying to think of a reply. Spike took advantage of his distraction and tried to slip the Legos out of Willow's hand. "Uh-uh! Bad Spike." Buffy grabbed the box from him. "I think since you guys can't play nice, I should get 'em."

"Oh, please, like you'd even know what to do with them." Spike was smart enough not to try to mess with a Slayer who still had all her strength and was now about the same height as him, but he could still taunt her. "This looks like it's about your speed." He grabbed a ratty-haired, completely unclothed Barbie from the shelf and shook it at her.

"Huh. That anatomically incorrect airhead?"

Willow took the doll out of Spike's hand. Looked at it. "She has a point. I mean, when I was your age-- I mean, the age you look now-- I didn't know any better, but really. What kind of role model do they think she is for young girls? Teeny waist, perfectly comb-able hair..."

"No nipples," Spike added helpfully. "Ow!" he said a moment later, rubbing his arm and glaring at Buffy.

Willow shook her head without sympathy. "Maybe you should go look at...the...um..." Where could they *possibly* stay out of trouble?

"Oi, where are you going?" Spike turned and walked after Xander, who had wandered down the aisle a ways. Willow and Buffy followed, curious, Tara and Giles coming along behind them to see what was up and to help corral

Spike and Xander if necessary. Giles was holding a jump-rope, with an 'Try me, see if I don't' expression.

Xander was holding a red plastic fire engine, a peculiar smile on his face.

"Um..." Buffy said, staring at him as he ran it along a tabletop, still lost somewhere. "Xander?"

He looked up guiltily. "Oh. I just... kind of always wanted one like this."

"And the pirate cove Legos?" she teased.

"Hey, like there wasn't anything you wanted when you were little, and never got?" Spike was suddenly protective, hands on his tiny hips, standing between Buffy and Xander. "A pony, maybe? Your own personal palace?"

"Just what the heck do you mean by that? You really think I was some kind of overprotected princess?" Buffy was right in his face, and Xander put down the fire engine. He wandered a little way away and just looked upset, like he'd started the fight instead of it just being Buffy and Spike, albeit the bite-sized versions.

Willow stepped around Buffy and Spike and went after him. Caught up quickly enough, and she put her hand on his shoulder. When he looked up at her, all she could see was a four-year-old -- the one she'd known long, long ago, who had come over to her house and played with her toys and always put them away carefully before he left, despite all the times she told him he could borrow one.

Tara and Giles were trying to calm down Spike and Buffy -- or drag them apart, or possibly bean them each on the head. Willow just held out her other hand to Xander. He blinked at her, confused. "Come on, Xander. You know you want to. You're small enough now, and I can."

He frowned, but slowly raised his other hand. Willow leaned down, and picked him up, and settled him on her hip. Xander let his head rest on her shoulder. "It's just a stupid fire engine," he said quietly.

"No, it's not," she said, just as softly. "I remember." He didn't answer, but he also didn't squirm, as she expected he would, when she put her hand on his back, and just left it there.

So she carried him around for a little while, stopping to look at clothes that might please Giles or cause Spike to make puking noises, which was always of the good. She was standing next to a table full of folded-up t-shirts when Xander asked, a little more of the adult in his voice, "You did burn down the house next door, didn't you."

"No." Though she'd thought deeply about pulling the fire alarm at school the day after Xander's birthday. Had guilt pangs for weeks.

In a more four-year-old whine, he said, "Buy me the fire engine?"

She smiled. "Maybe. Here, would Giles wear this?" She held up a plain brown shirt -- which only had one very small bit of cartoon decoration on it.

"I think Giles wants that one," Xander pointed.

Willow looked at the shirt, and glared at Xander. "Be nice, or I'll let Giles pick out *your* clothes."

"I think he'd look cute." Xander leaned over and grabbed at the shirt -- missing when Willow stepped aside.

"I sincerely hope that was not *Xander* saying *I* would look cute," Giles said dryly.

Xander stuck his tongue out. "You *are* though. You're four -- everyone's cute when they're four."

Buffy took a considering look at Giles, and nodded. "Yeah. You kind of look like somebody just made you swallow cough syrup, but still cute."

"Ate worms," Spike corrected. "Definitely got that 'go outside and eat worms' look to 'im."

"Ugh-- remind me not to ask you about *your* childhood." She was still eyeing Giles critically. "You really have to loosen up, Giles. Four-year-olds are supposed to run around pretending to be Superman, not Middle-Aged Man."

"I *am* a middle-aged man. A middle-aged man who happens to be under the influence of a spell. It has made me short, not young." Giles gave her a stern look.

"Too short to see over the edge of the table," Dawn said, as Giles was trying to do just that. "Don't you trust Willow to find you something you like?"

"When Xander's helping her?" Giles replied, but his tone wasn't as stern as it had been.

"Well, here," Dawn said, and she was lifting him up. Settled him on her hip, just as Willow had done with Xander.

Giles looked very nonplussed. "Really, Dawn, this isn't--"

"You can see, now, can't you? Go on, find something you want."

"Yes, well, I...."

"Either you do it, or Xander's gonna do it," she reminded him.

Xander grinned at him. "There's the one I saw." He pointed.

"Remind me to do something horrible to you when I grow up," Giles muttered, staring at the Ren and Stimpy t-shirt.

"You mean, more horrible than sending Spike to live in my basement?"

Giles screwed up his face for a second as if in deep concentration, then shook his head. "Actually, I can't think of anything more horrible than that." Xander pumped his fist in the air, like he'd just gotten away with something major, and Giles glared at him. "Give me time." He reached down and picked up a plain blue polo shirt with a small appliqué of Winnie- the-Pooh in the spot where the alligator would have gone on a grown-up's shirt. "This isn't too terrible."

"Winnie the Pooh? He's English, isn't he?" Dawn asked.

"Course he is. All the great ones are," Spike said, reaching up for the shirt. Giles held it out of his reach, and Spike pouted, then put his hands on his hips. "Didn't want it anyway. Don't even like the bloke."

"You just said he was one of the great ones," Buffy said. "Besides, don't you have the entire text of 'When We Were Six' memorized?"

Spike gaped at her. "I certainly do not! And if I did, it would be Dru's fault. She liked me to read to her and I don't remember a bloody bit of them. Besides, it's __Now We Are Six__," he added.

"Hey, there's a Peter Rabbit one over here," Xander said, making a good show of trying to distract Spike.

""Yeah? They got Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cottontail, too? Maybe Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle?" Spike snorted, or tried to. Four-year-old bodies just aren't made to snort. "I do have *some* standards."

"Oh. Then I guess you don't want the Barney one."

Spike glared up at him, then tugged on Willow's shirt. "Would you put him down so's I can kill him, please?" He sounded terribly polite, and she almost did it just from the shock of it all.

"You can't kill him," she said in a reasonable tone. "What would Anya say?"

"If Anya heard him saying that word, she'd help me do it. She saw one of his shows, once. Locked herself in the bathroom for hours, saying it was no wonder they didn't need her as a vengeance demon any longer."

"It took us all evening and a vat of chocolate to calm her down," Xander added.

"I found one for you," Buffy interjected, thrusting a shirt at Spike. It was pink, and when Spike held it up, they could see the Care Bears all over the front.

Spike held the shirt out to Willow, and said, still politely, "Excuse me." Then he tore after Buffy, who squealed and ran away.

"Aww, they like each other," Tara said.

"Yeah, Spike always tries to kill people he likes," Xander agreed. "I mean, he's hit me over the head, threatened to eviscerate me..."

"No, that was Anya," Willow corrected.

Xander frowned. "Are you saying I have some sort of pattern of self-destructive relationship choices?"

She grinned. "No, I'm saying lots of people like you."

"Yes, well, I have a shirt, could you possibly put me down, now?" Giles was saying to Dawn.

"You're gonna need more than one, Giles. Two weeks wearing only Mojo Jojo and Winne the Pooh - when are we gonna do laundry?"

He sighed. "Fine. Why you wouldn't just take us to Gap Kids, like I'd asked...."

"Because we pointed out that we'd be taking Buffy, Spike, and Xander to the Mall. As four- year-olds. Remember? You said you'd rather be painted green and tossed to a pack of wild Ziphoriu demons?" Dawn made no move to put him down.

"I wanted to go to the mall," Buffy pouted.

"Me, too!" Spike pouted, beside her. The others looked at them for a moment, wondering why they were standing there, not running around and not screaming, throwing things, and hitting each other. Like any other normal day.

"Can I ask why-- specifically-- you wanted to go to the mall?" Giles did the infinite patience thing really well as a four-year-old. It was uncanny.

Buffy grinned. "Easter Bunny! Pictures!"

Spike looked around, like something nasty was going to jump out in Goodwill and save him by distracting everybody. Finally he said, "Well, yeah. Thought I might get one of me and Xan, so Anya could ohh-ah over it when she gets back."

"You mean so she could squeak and freak out, and we'd have to comfort her," Xander said. After a few seconds, he grinned and added. "Good idea."

"Perhaps we should," Giles began, though he sounded as though he were being talked into letting the gang invade a nest of vampires with only three stakes between them. "I'd rather pay for photos with a large rabbit, than wear any of these."

"You're paying?" Xander perked up. "I want some cotton candy!"

"And I want a hot dog, and some caramel corn," Spike added.

"Can we stop at the shoe store? They're having a sale," Buffy said. "Oh, but I guess I can't really try on the ones I want." She frowned at her feet. Then she smiled. "But I can get those pink sandals! They came in kids' sizes!"

"No, I've changed my mind. I'll wear this." Giles picked up a Superman T-shirt. "That's

three, that will get me through the next two weeks. Put me down."

Dawn rolled her eyes, but she let him down, finally. "Sure, spoil all my fun."

"I'm quite certain Spike would love to be picked up and carried around," Giles said stiffly. "Or... no, I think not."

Spike glared at him. "What, I'm not allowed to get any attention?"

"I think he was thinking you'd use it as an excuse to stare over her shoulder at that girl in the tank-top," Xander said. Spike looked far too innocent for his own good, in response.

"Actually, from down here you can see up her sk-- what am I saying?" Buffy shook her head, and thumped Spike again.

Spike, however, was pouting again. "Nobody loves me," he said, jutting out his lower lip. He wandered quickly away, towards the woman in the tank top and skirt. "My mummy doesn't lo--"

"Oh, no you don't," Tara scooped him up around the waist, and held him, giving the puzzled woman a smile. "Sorry."

"That's okay, he wasn't bothering me. All of these can't be yours, right? Are you babysitting?"

"Something like that."

"Oi! I'm not a baby!" Spike wriggled wildly in her grip, but she held firm. Willow was impressed. Even Xander looked impressed.

"No, a baby wouldn't get into nearly as much trouble. You're just an evil four-year-old."

"Oh, you shouldn't tell him he's evil," the woman said sincerely. "You'll damage his psyche."

"Yeah!" Spike agreed happily, still wriggling determinedly.

Tara smiled... evilly. "You're right. Whatever was I thinking." She lifted Spike up and cuddled him. "Who's Auntie Tara's widdle morally challenged toddler, huh?" Then she tickled him unmercifully, until he was laughing so hard he couldn't say anything coherent enough to get any of them in trouble.

The woman smiled at them, and moved away -- the look on her face said she was happy she'd encouraged the harried young woman to be kind to the youngster. Rather than having a clue that Spike was planning to bite Tara just as soon as he could get away with it.

When Tara carried Spike back to the others, Spike wriggled out of her grip, glared at Giles and Buffy for laughing at him, then gave Tara a dirty look. "That wasn't nice."

"That's not what you say when *I* do it," Xander observed.

"I think we'd better head for the cashier, and get these kids someplace where they can't do any more damage." Willow handed the last of the clothes they'd picked out to Dawn.

"What damage? We haven't done any damage," Buffy said, looking around the store. "Everything's still standing."

"I mean to my sanity." Willow gave her a smile, though. She looked down at Xander, who was wriggling determinedly himself. "Careful, or I'll tickle you, too."

"S'what he wants. *He* likes it," Spike said sullenly.

"Not in a 'you can't tickle me, that would be wrong' kind of way," Xander said quickly.

"Oh, good," she replied, rolling her eyes. "If I put you down, will you stand still and actually act like you're a twenty-some year old guy in a four-year-old body?"

"Um." Xander's expression grew thoughtful. "What was my third option, again?"

"Behave, or you have to go to Bozo's Burgers for lunch, and sit on Bozo's lap."

Xander looked stricken, then held very still. "I'll be good. I swear." Willow set him down, and he went over to stand beside Spike, who had never been to Bozo's Burgers as an adult, much less a child. The group made their way towards the cashier, Spike nudging Xander along the way and trying to get him to explain. "There's this big... clown guy. With fluffy red hair. And.. um... I don't like clowns."

"Was that why you freaked out when Anya put on that red nose at the Christmas party?"

"No!" Xander denied vehemently. "I just didn't like the idea of her leading Santa's reindeer, when Giles was playing Santa."

"You two really should take that act on the road," Giles observed. "In fact, why don't you get a head start and leave now?"

"Why don't you make me?" Xander retorted, stepping over to Giles, hands balling into fists.

"I don't believe this," Giles shook his head. "I'm far better trained than you are." He grabbed Xander's arm, and before anyone could blink, Xander was sprawled on the ground.

Giles blinked, then he was bending down and helping Xander back to his feet. Xander -- and everyone else -- looked a little startled. "I'm sorry. I'm just...well, a bit stressed I suppose. I really don't know what came over me, are you all right?"

Xander blinked, then said, "I think someone needs to buy me ice cream. Then maybe I'll be OK."

"Yeah! Me, too. I had to endure the agony of seein' him thrown to the floor," Spike interjected.

"I had to endure the agony of being with Spike. Can I have ice cream?" Buffy asked.

"I...um... like ice cream," Dawn said cheerfully. "Can I?"

"Honey? Do you actually want to give them sugar?" Tara asked. From the floor, Spike and Xander started in on a high-pitched rendition of 'Sugar...ah, honey, honey...' until Buffy whapped them both upside their respective heads.

"Well, they're not *real* kids, no matter how much they're acting like it at the moment," Willow answered. "And I wouldn't say no to some pralines and cream, myself."

"Yea! Ice cream!" Xander and Spike shouted. Which was pretty much normal behavior for them. Or as normal as they got.

Tara shrugged. The look on her face was one every parent knew -- you're gonna regret this. "Just remember their bedtime is at 7," she said calmly, then gave Willow a grin as four high- pitched voices protested.

*****

Part Three

"Honestly, I'll be fine." Giles looked up at Tara and Willow, his face as composed as ever.

"Are you sure?" Willow asked, again. "I know you're not *really* four. But... you are awfully small. What if.. if.. something falls and you can't pick it up? Or someone comes to the door, or if someone calls and wants to talk to your parents?"

Giles looked at them patiently. "If something falls and I can't pick it up, I'll leave it there. But honestly, what do I have in here that's heavy enough that I couldn't pick it up, aside from the furniture? And obviously I won't answer the door or the telephone, unless it's one of you lot. I *do* have an answering machine."

"Yes, but it's still blinking 12:00," Tara teased. Actually, she couldn't see it to tell *what* it was blinking, buried as it was under a stack of books and papers.

"No, that's his VCR. His answering machine still says 'Hello. Insert your name here is not at home. Please leave a message.' " Willow shot back.

"I can still hear whoever's calling." Giles narrowed his eyes. On his four-year-old face it looked adorable.

Willow must have had the same thought, because she reached out and patted his head. "Sorry, I can't help myself." She giggled as Giles sighed.

"Why don't we, um, stay for a bit, and make sure he'll be OK?" Tara suggested.

"Fine, stay if you like -- but at 8 o'clock I'm chucking you all out. You're warned." Giles headed towards the kitchen.

"What happens at 8?" Buffy asked from where she was bouncing on the couch.

"Passions' documentary is on!" Spike yelled. "We have to stay -- or be home by eight."

"That is *not*--" Giles called back from the kitchen.

"Relax, vamplet. We've set the VCR," Xander told Spike.

"Who're you calling vamplet, you... humanoid!"

Xander frowned. "Okay, you realize that wasn't actually an insult?"

Spike stuck out his tongue, Xander dove for him, and Willow plopped down on the couch between them. "Do I have to separate you two? Really?"

Xander rolled his eyes. "I wasn't gonna *do* anything to him."

"I was more worried about the furniture. And the lamps. And the books..."

Tara followed Giles into the kitchen. Not that she was checking up on him or anything, she was just... checking up on him. She found him standing precariously on the kitchen counter, trying to reach up to the top shelf. She stood behind him, watching for a moment.

"Bloody hell." Giles lowered his hand and began looking around.

"Need some help?" Tara asked. "Because you look a little...short, to reach the bag of tea you keep stashed on the top shelf."

"I was not--" Giles began. "Would you be so kind as to get it down for me?"

Tara looked at him, looked at the tea, then looked at him again. She reached up and got the tea down, but held it in her hands. Looked at Giles.

Who sighed. "Fine. I'm too small to fix my own bloody tea. I'll come home with you. But I am *not* wearing footie pajamas and I am *not* going to bed at seven."

"Agreed. We don't have any footie pajamas, anyway." She waited until he had preceded her out of the kitchen before leaning down and whispering "Seven-thirty."

"I heard that!" Giles turned around and gave her the sternest glare a four-year-old could possibly give. "I am *not* a child, no matter how much I may look like one, and I am perfectly capable of staying up until midnight if I wish."

She raised a hand. "You know best. As always."

He glared again. "I'm also old enough to recognize when people are quoting Mary Poppins at me, thank you." He proceeded into the living room, the most middle-aged preschooler she had ever seen.

Tara just smiled, and Willow and Dawn giggled. Spike, Buffy, and Xander were too busy trying to see who could bounce the highest.

; ********

"They're *adorable*," Willow whispered as softly as she could.

"You said that already," Tara whispered back. But she was smiling.

"Five times, actually," Dawn added in a whisper of her own. The three were standing in the living room, staring at four young children fast asleep on the couch.

Willow giggled. "We should have gotten footie pajamas. And a camera."

"We would've had to drug Giles before he'd put them on," Tara said.

"But I have a camera," Dawn added, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. "It's on the bookshelf over there. Even has film in it."

Willow and Tara looked at each other. "It would be very bad," Willow whispered.

Five minutes later, they were starting their second roll of film.

"Okay, I think we've gotten as many different angles of Spike sucking his thumb as we can," Tara said, finally. "We should really put them to bed. It can't be good for them all to sleep on the couch."

"Hmm." Willow looked at the four, and considered. "There's only three beds. Dawn's, Buffy's, and-- um, Joyce's."

"Buffy can sleep with me," Dawn said. "And you and Tara in mom's room, leaves Buffy's bed for Spike, Xander and Giles. It'll be big enough, won't it?"

Willow shook her head. "You don't know Xander. He's the 'take the entire bed and then some' type. He'll have Spike and Giles kicked out of bed in half an hour."

"But, doesn't he, I mean, he's used to..." Tara stopped, and blushed.

"All right. We'll put them in together, but if Giles wakes up first tomorrow morning, *you* are explaining it to him."

Dawn picked up Buffy, easily, and stood there, just holding the sleeping girl. "You know, she used to carry me around like this."

Willow had lifted Xander into her arms, and was rearranging him as he snuggled sleepily against her shoulder. "It's weird, I know." Weirder that Dawn remembered something that Buffy probably remembered too, and it hadn't really happened. But she didn't say it, and Dawn didn't say it, and Tara had already carried Giles into Buffy's bedroom, so *she* certainly didn't say it. Willow passed her girlfriend on the stairs a moment later, as she came back empty-handed for Spike. "Adorable?"

"Tucked in with the covers pulled up to his chin."

Willow took Xander into the bedroom. "Well, Xander, this is your chance to sleep in Buffy's bed." She laid him down gently in the middle of the bed, under the blankets. He was as sound asleep as she'd ever seen him -- so she leaned over and kissed the top of his head. She moved aside as Tara brought Spike in, who was asleep as well, but tossing a bit in her arms, and muttering. He quieted as soon as he was laid down on the other side of Xander, whom he immediately grabbed and cuddled like a teddy bear.

Willow and Tara stood there for a moment. Then Willow began, "Oh, we need--"

"This?" Dawn asked, holding the camera over Willow's shoulder.

"How much film do we have?"

"We can buy more. It's only seven o'clock."

; ***********

"Oh, God, what time is it?" Dawn yawned. "I've still gotta get up for school in the morning." They had been sitting on the couch, mostly getting silly about how cute the pseudo- kids looked. They'd been talking a little, too, about what it might be like to have kids of their own, and how if they were anything like Spike and Xander, they might just want to babysit for the rest of their lives, and stick to cats and goldfish.

"It's eleven-fifteen. Yeah, I suppose we should get to bed. Especially if we're gonna be up at the hour that *those* bodies are probably gonna wake up." Willow stood and stretched.

"You think they're really wake up early? Even Xander?" Tara asked.

Willow paused in her stretch, and faced her girlfriend. "Tara, when Xander was four, he would show up at my window at five o'clock in the morning."

"Oh." Tara looked upstairs. "Maybe we should have gone to bed earlier."

"Hey, I still have some film. Should we go check on them?" Dawn asked, with a mischievous smile.

"I think we should." Willow nodded, and led the other two towards the stairs. "For their own...safety."

The sight that greeted them was enough to make Willow overjoyed that she'd just *happened* to bring the camera upstairs with her. Buffy was asleep against the wall in Dawn's bed. There were three little figures in the bed acros the hall. Xander in the middle, flat on his back, taking up as much of the space as possible. Spike curled up next to him, still hugging him like a giant-size Winnie-the-Pooh. Pretty much the sight they'd seen the last time they left the room, except that on the other side, the half-pint Giles was doing exactly the same thing.

"We're gonna need more film," Dawn whispered. Willow just kept taking photos.

************

Rupert woke up last -- as usual. He hated it; he'd much rather be the first one awake so he could extricate himself with some semblance of dignity. It would have helped had he *known* why he snuggled up in his sleep. But he didn't. He had no idea. He didn't even *like* Xander that way.

He tried to tell himself he was offering support to the young man..er...other four-year-old. But that didn't account for Spike, on Xander's other side. Xander didn't need any more support than an octopus-limbed vampire. Who was currently grinning at Rupert, over a grinning Xander's shoulder.

"All right, get on with it." Rupert sighed. Three mornings in a row, now, he'd had to deal with....

"Get on with what?" Spike smarmed. "*I* wasn't gonna say anything. Were *you* gonna say anything, Xan?" Silent back-and-forth shake of a grinning face. "Nah, didn't think so. I mean, you want to share the fun, Rupes, be my guest. Not like Anya would care, long as we got pics. Hell, we had a bigger bed, I bet she would've invit--"

"Yes, all right, very funny, that's enough." Rupert carefully pulled his left arm out from under Xander, who gave him a pouting face that he would probably have found irresistible if he were his own age, looking at a real four-year-old. As it was, he had the bizarre urge to smack Xander on the head with a pillow.

Not that it was an uncontrollable urge. It was just there, somewhere beneath the surface.

"Not leaving already, are you?" Spike said, in an almost perfectly-guileless tone. "Because we can still--"

Rupert had been scooting towards the edge of the bed. He stopped, and turned to face Spike. "Stop. Stop it right there. Spike, you are four years old and you are not having sex. And if you are, you are not doing it with me in the same bed, the same room, or even the same bloody house."

Spike and Xander blinked at him. Then Xander asked Spike, "You were right! He didn't hear us."

"Excuse me?" Rupert stared at them.

"A few months ago, we--"

"No, I didn't ask, I don't want to know I am NOT LISTENING!" He pushed himself off the bed and ran for the door.

He could still hear the giggling behind him as he made his way cautiously down the stairs. Ever since the first time he had tried to take them at his usual speed and almost tumbled from the landing to the living room, he'd been quite careful about climbing down, while still trying to look as if he *wasn't* being consciously careful.

And if he took his time concentrating on the stairs, he didn't have to think about where or when Spike and Xander might have done whatever it was that he didn't want to know and hadn't been listening to. When he got to the foot of the stairway, he looked up, finally, to find Willow sitting on the couch. "Hey! Morning, Giles. You want breakfast?"

"Thank you, Willow, I can manage." He headed towards the kitchen, though he should have known better. They hadn't let him try to make his own meals since the first morning after, when he'd dropped the milk. He had grabbed it with one hand, and been shocked to find it so *heavy*. Buffy had demonstrated proper 'strength of a four-year-old two-handed carry'...before lifting a twenty pound bag of potatoes with one hand to get it out of the way of the spilled milk.

"Oh, I don't mind," Willow was saying as she passed him. "You want cereal? Because I can make toast and eggs, too."

Rupert sighed, and made his way to the barstool at the kitchen counter. "Cereal will be fine." He pulled the stool out, and started to climb -- and Willow picked him up and plopped him on the chair.

"Oops." She smiled guiltily at his expression. "Sorry, I just saw you, and thought, well I didn't think, I just...well, you're short now, and I, um... cereal, you said?"

He nodded.

"Huh. Fruity pebbles, Captain Crunch, or Cocoa Puffs?"

"Do we have nothing that neither snaps, crackles, pops, nor comes with a secret decoder ring?"

Willow shook her head. "You finished off the Cinnamon Life yesterday, and that's the only thing Buffy and Dawn have in the house that comes remotely close to grown-up cereal. Unless you want instant oatmeal?"

"Yes, that would be fine."

"Milk?" she asked. Rupert rolled his eyes.

"I may *look* four, but I assure you, I will do fine with coffee. Or tea."

Willow gave him a measuring look. "I don't think I want to see a four-year-old Giles jacked up on caffeine."

Rupert gave her a measuring look right back. "And I don't particularly care to see a grown witch turned into a frog. But I will, if I must."

"Giles, for shame. Resorting to threats? Why don't you just ask her to make some tea?" Tara came into the kitchen, and went over to the stove and picked up the kettle. Willow was giving her girlfriend a dirty glare, for picking Rupert's side.

He, of course, knew that it was decaffeinated herbal tea -- and Tara knew that he knew, but she was playing along. Or perhaps he was playing along.

"I *know* he's a grown-up, but he still has a four-year-old body, you know," Willow said, a bit reprovingly.

Tara smiled. "And it's not *really* gonna stunt his growth over the next two weeks if we let him have a few grown-up pleasures. Relax, sweetheart. Sit down and eat your own breakfast--you have a class to get to in an hour."

"Are you sure? I can skip," she looked worriedly over at Rupert, doing a terrible job of pretending she wasn't looking at him and thinking about leaving Tara and Dawn home alone with four kids.

"Yes, because without you here, we might destroy the house. Like we've done every day since actually *being* four. Willow, go to class." Giles accepted a mug of steeping tea from Tara. "Thank you."

Willow glanced at Tara, question on her face. Tara opened her mouth -- but what they all heard was, "BANZAI!"

; *********

"I guess they found the cardboard," Tara observed as they reluctantly left Giles in the kitchen to fend for himself while they investigated the newest emergency.

"I thought we threw it out!" Willow headed for the stairs, Tara on her heels. There they found Xander and a large piece of cardboard in a pile at the foot of the stairs.

"Um..." He looked up innocently at them. "Ow?"

Willow looked up the stairs, and sure enough-- "William the Bloody, don't you *dare* toboggan down those stairs again!"

Spike shrugged-- then quickly jumped feet-first onto the piece of cardboard he'd just dropped onto the floor. "Gangway, then!"

She grabbed him halfway down the stairs, just as he was about to be launched headfirst past the last four steps and probably get airborne in time to smash his head against the lower landing wall. "What?" he grumbled as she carried him down the remaining steps under one arm. "You didn't say anything about snowboarding!"

"I swear, you're acting more like a four-year-old than normal. Which for you -- you *two*, Xander Harris, get back here when I'm scolding you! -- is saying a lot!"

Xander froze, then snuck back to stand beside Willow. As soon as she set Spike down to scold him further, Xander grabbed him by the neck. "You can't yell at us! We're adults and can do as we like. Even if it means breaking Spike's neck."

"Oi! Speak for yourself," Spike wriggled. Xander didn't let go -- which meant Spike wasn't wriggling very hard. Willow glared at them both, regardless.

Xander gave her a slightly more reasonable look. "Come on, Will, it's not like there's anything Spike can do to really hurt himself. Aside from playing with fire. Or holy water. Or pointy sticks. Or...um..."

"Sunlight," Buffy supplied from the top of the stairs.

"Right, and what's your excuse, Xan? You're little, your bones are little, you could go smoosh-crunch just like... Buffy, for God's sake!" Willow planted herself in the middle of the bottom step, waiting to catch a certain little girl with long brownish hair who was even now slide-thumping her way down, butt plastered against a third piece of cardboard.

"Ow!" Xander screamed behind Willow, and she turned, taking a step towards him reflexively. She found him grinning at her and calling out, "Who-hoo! Go, Buffster!"

Willow turned around again to find Buffy at the bottom of the stairs, lying on her side with the cardboard still firmly clasped in her hands. "I'm going to class. Then I'm going to the library. *Then* I'm going...somewhere. For mochas. I'm not coming home until you four are *in* *bed*."

"All in the *same* bed?" Spike grinned cheekily. "Cos... er... not that it's ever been a fantasy of mine or anything..."

"Eew!" Buffy whapped him with her cardboard. "Leave me out of your icky sex fantasies, please. Or at least don't tell me I'm in them." She whapped Xander over the head, too.

"Hey, what was that for?"

"It's fun?"

Whap. Anti-whap. Et cetera. Willow stalked out of the living room, letting the cardboard fight progress as it would. There wasn't much in that half of the room that they could damage, anyway.

She could hear the giggling, and ignored it as she went into the kitchen, gave Tara a kiss, collected her school bag, gave Tara a kiss, glared at Giles because he was there, and gave Tara a kiss before leaving out the back door.

; ******

Part Four

Giles and Tara looked towards the sounds emanating from the living room. "You know what's remarkable," Giles remarked after a moment, sounding much older than his appearance for once. "They actually get along better *now* than before."

"Why don't you go...." Tara began, nodding towards the lively noises.

Giles managed to look put off. "I think not, Tara," he said gently. He couldn't seem to resist glancing in that direction again, however, before turning around and resuming eating his oatmeal.

"Okay. It's *your* second childhood," she teased.

"I am *not* senile," he said calmly, without looking up from his bowl. "I'm merely under a spell."

She wisely refrained from pushing the subject, going instead to make sure the war of the cardboard hadn't spread to the more dangerous bric-a-brac zones. "I don't suppose you guys want to do something nice and quiet?" she asked the three ruffled, red-faced individuals in the living room. "Like, say, clean the basement?"

"You want to trust them alone in the basement? With power tools?" Buffy pointed out. Xander and Spike giggled.

"Well, then, you could go...no, you can't go outside, can you." She thought for a moment. "I suppose you could help me practice a spell."

Xander and Spike leapt into the air. "Yes! We wanna help! We wanna help! "

"Er, without Willow?" Xander added.

Tara narrowed her eyes, then smiled as innocently as she could manage. "I'm trying to learn how to turn people into frogs, like Mr. Giles can do."

Spike gave Xander a look. " I get the feeling Goldilocks thinks we're major suckers, or something."

Xander pointed to Spike. "I volunteer him for the first casting!"

Buffy shook her head. "That won't work. He's not people."

Spike stuck his tongue out at her, and vamped out at the same time, so he was waggling it between pointed teeth. Xander giggled. Then giggled some more.

Tara smiled, then placed her hand in front of her mouth. Buffy walked up to Spike and said "Aw! Innit he cute!" She patted Spike on the head.

Spike growled, and glared at each of them, which only made them smile and giggle more. "Oh, for cripey's sake," Spike muttered, and stomped into the kitchen.

The small harrumph of laughter from Giles probably didn't improve his mood.

"I'm hungry...." came the growl, in a four-year-old Cockney accent. "I want blood..."

"He sounds like those kindergartners from Halloween," Buffy giggled.

Xander looked at her a little nervously. "The ones from *this* Halloween? Or Halloween of our Junior year?"

She shrugged. "Either/or. Pint-Sized Demons 'R Us. C'mon. I wanna see him try to drink blood from a sippy cup again."

Xander gave her a mild glare as he let her drag him along to the kitchen, Tara following. They walked in and found Giles watching with amusement as Spike climbed up the chair that he'd dragged over to the cabinets where the mugs were kept. Buffy giggled. "You shouldn't tease Spike, you know," Xander told her.

Buffy gave him an incredulous look. "Are you kidding?"

Xander shrugged, and went over to hold the chair as Spike continued on his quest for a mug. "Found it! She hid the Gossamer one in the back!" Spike pulled a large orange mug out of the cabinet.

It wasn't *really* a sippy cup. But it *was* pretty much impossible to spill from. Spike yanked the refrigerator door open, and grabbed a bag of blood from one of the lower shelves. Then glared at all and sundry. "Anybody gonna try to tell me I'm not allowed to play with *these* sharp objects?" he asked, snapping his teeth shut on the edge of the bag and ripping the corner off.

"No," Tara replied, "but if you spill it on the floor again, I'm gonna make you clean it up. Pour it over the sink."

"Can't *reach* the bloody sink," Spike grumbled.

"Then give it to somebody who can." She pulled the bag carefully from his grasp, poured it into the mug--over the unbloody sink--then put the mug in the microwave. Spike glared at her, then, his attention arrested by the Fruity Pebbles on the table, slithered into a chair next to Giles.

"And gimmie a spoon, too," he demanded.

Tara stopped in mid-step, and folded her arms. For a moment she felt like Willow. "You can reach the silverware drawer, Spike."

But Xander had gone over and gotten two spoons out, as well as a bowl for himself, out of the dish washer. He carried them over to the counter, set them next to Spike, then returned to the fridge for the milk. Tara started to help him with the gallon jug, but he had it firmly in both hands. By the time the microwave beeped, he'd got himself up on the stool between Spike and Buffy and was making his bowl of cereal.

Tara brought the mug of warmed blood over, and Spike promptly poured Fruity Pebbles into it.

"Oh, that's disgusting," Giles said.

"Says a man who spreads yeast extract on toast," Spike shot back. "At least mine has entertaining colors."

"Yes, I've always based my nutritional choices on how attractive the meal would look splattered against a wall," Giles agreed dryly. Well, he was obviously trying for dry, but there was a bit of a pouting sound to it, as if the four-year-old larynx just wasn't made to *do* dry.

"Well, the blood's the nutritional part, for him," Xander pointed out, crunching happily into his own cereal-and-milk, unperturbed by Spike's meal sitting next to him. Then again, he was used to it. "The cereal's just for..."

"Texture. I remember." Giles shuddered.

Spike opened his mouth to show Giles a mouthful of partially-chewed, brightly colored cereal.

"Appearance," Xander finished.

"Yes, remind me again why I don't eat breakfast with you two more often?"

"Cos' you're sexually repressed, and you won't take Anya up on her offer of a swing-night?" Spike suggested while still crunching.

Giles spit his tea out all the way across the counter. Tara grabbed a towel, and Spike and Xander looked at him like he should have been expecting that. "I think I'm going to go to the shop, and get some work done on the inventory," he said, setting his cup down and sliding off the barstool. "Er, that is, Tara, if you don't mind driving me...."

"Maybe we should all go?" she asked. "I don't think I should leave Buffy, Spike, and Xander here alone."

"Yes, you should!" Spike countered. "We'll be good, we promise."

Spike and Xander gave Tara their best innocent us faces. Buffy looked up from the donut she was blissfully attacking, Spike hissed at her, "Look innocent!"

She looked surprised for a second, then turned an equally 'innocent me' face towards Tara.

Tara blanched. "I'm afraid. I have fear. I am a frightened person. And you are all coming along. Or we're all staying here."

"Why d'you want us along, if we scare you," Spike asked reasonably. Pseudo-reasonably.

"*You* don't scare me. The thought of what you could do unsupervised scares me."

"Oh, come on. We're not *really* kids. And this *is* my house-- it's not like I'm gonna let 'em demolish it," Buffy protested.

"Who got the cardboard out of the basement?" Tara asked.

Buffy bit her bottom lip before answering, "Spike?"

"I did not!" Spike retorted immediately. "I was trying to sit and read and be good, and *you* came running up all 'hey, let's play on the stairs like I haven't done since I was five the first time'."

"Yeah, but this time I--" Buffy stopped. Bit her lip again, and Tara instinctively took a step towards her. Buffy half-smiled. "Mom used to get mad at me for doing it."

There was a silence that no one seemed to know how or whether to break. Then Xander said, "I used to get yelled at, too. I didn't use cardboard, though. I had a dinner tray that my dad had broken."

Spike looked up from his crunching. "You slid down the *basement* stairs? Onto *concrete* ?"

Xander shrugged defensively. "I put the couch cushions at the bottom."

"I'm not surprised you got yelled at," Tara said. "You could've broken your skull."

"S'pect that lot were more worried about the concrete," Spike mumbled into his cereal.

Xander grinned. "I *do* have a pretty hard head."

"Not what I meant," Spike said even more quietly. When he'd actually swallowed his food, he perked up. "Fine. So we go to the magic shop. Not as if we can't have just as much fun there..."

"That is *not* why we're going. We're going so Mr. Giles can do inventory. We're not going to have fun." Tara paused, and looked at Giles. "I mean...if you *like* doing inventory...."

"That's all right, Tara. I don't. But I appreciate the thought." Giles began looking around the kitchen.

"Um, can we help?" Tara asked after a moment when he didn't find whatever he was looking for.

"Lose something?" Buffy asked, unhelpfully.

"If it's your mind, I'm sure we have an extra one. Buffy isn't using hers." Spike took another bite of his cereal, in time to get walloped by the tiny Slayer. "Hey! You make me choke on my cereal, and I'll.. um.. choke. Really hard."

"Which, since you don't breathe, would pretty much just be for the purpose of entertaining us?" Buffy pointed out. "Get a life. So to speak. What are you looking for, Giles?"

"My...er..." he trailed off, continuing to look -- under the table, in the below-counter cupboards...

Spike continued to look completely innocent.

"Giles?"

At last he stood up, to his full three and a half feet. "My shoes?"

"Your shoes?" Buffy repeated. Then she turned to Spike and Xander. "Xander. Where are Giles' shoes?"

Xander blinked. "Why aren't you asking the evil undead guy? He does things like steal shoes, break VCR remotes, and leave empty cans of beer in the fridge."

"Because I'm asking you. Where are they?"

Buffy glared. Giles glared at Xander, as well. Xander tried pouting, but it really didn't work as well on fellow four-year-olds. "Fine. They're in the bedroom under the bed."

"Thank you," Giles said with a tone of long-suffering. "Er, which bedroom?"

"Ours," he said, and smiled when Giles blushed faintly and left the kitchen.

Tara shook her finger at Xander. "You really shouldn't tease him like that. You used to blush just as hard."

"Yeah, but that was before the bookends of bluntness double-teamed me. With both Spike and Anya around, I either had to get over it or resign myself to losing all feeling in any other parts of my body besides my face," Xander replied cheerfully.

Tara frowned, slightly, about to ask exactly what he meant. Then *she* felt herself blushing, and turned away. "Um, does, um anyone still need breakfast?"

Xander raised his hand. He waited patiently until Tara looked at him. "I am in need of coffee."

Tara was confused. "I didn't know you drank coffee. Um, I thought...you drank sodas?"

Xander looked innocent as he said, "I meant for Giles."

"Oh. Well, okay, I guess. He'll drink instant, won't he?" She reached for the jar on the counter. "Otherwise we'll never get out of here."

"Oh, yeah. This early in the morning, he'll drink dishwater." Xander looked guiltily towards the ceiling. "Not that I've ever substituted that for anybody's Earl Grey in the middle of a research all-nighter."

Tara paused. "Xander? Why do you want me to give you Giles' coffee?"

Xander looked up at her with all the elfin angelic innocence a four-year-old Xander could muster. Fortunately for Tara, she'd been exposed to Willow for long enough to be partially immune. She looked sternly at him. "Xander? I don't think you have Giles' best interests in mind."

"How can you *say* that?" Spike objected around a mouthful of cereal. "Here the lad is all eager to show how much he cares for-- oh, nevermind."

Giles came into the kitchen with his shoes. "Giles, did you by any chance want some coffee?" Tara asked, one eyebrow lifted.

He stopped in the act of pulling his left shoe tight with its Velcro fastening, and looked up at her. "Er... coffee?"

"Xander thought you might like some. He was even going to take it to you himself."

Giles looked at Xander. "Really. Isn't that thoughtful of you. Almost makes me sorry I ever told your English teachers about the papers you copied from someone else's homework."

Xander stood there for a moment, gaping. Spike smirked, though it wasn't clear whose bit of evil he was proud of. Then Xander started yelling. "I never cheated! More than once! And besides how did you know and you *told* on me?!?"

Giles simply looked smug, and asked Tara, "Are we almost ready to go?"

Xander leaned over to Spike. "Are you sure you didn't turn him? I remember you saying you wanted to suck on his--"

"Xander!" Tara said quickly.

"Well, that too," Spike agreed.

She threw up her hands. "Yes, we're ready to go. Oh, please, let us be ready to go."

"I'm ready!" Buffy called out, loudly.

"I'm ready!" called Xander, equally loudly.

Spike looked at his bowl of cereal, then looked at Xander's. He picked up each bowl one at a time, and slurped as fast as he could. "OK, I'm ready," he said, still munching cereal.

Tara sighed. "Thank goodness. All right, everyone's, let's go." She began herding them towards the door.

"I have to go to the bathroom," Xander announced.

; ************

"Let me down! Mrrmpph rhmph frryum!" Tara rolled her eyes and set the struggling contents of the blanket down on the countertop at the Magic Box. It changed shape several times until a pouty-faced Spike finally appeared from within its folds, hair sticking out in every direction.

"Did Spikey not like his blankey-ride?" Buffy asked, quietly pulling on his dangling shoestring.

He kicked out at her lightly, then grasped his head. "Ow!" It didn't improve his hairstyle.

"I want a blankey-ride!" Xander pouted, and grabbed the blanket Spike was still sitting on. He pulled, and tugged, and Spike began sliding towards the edge of the counter.

"Watch it!" Spike snapped, and tried to scoot backwards. Xander pulled again, and Buffy giggled and gave Spike's shoestring a yank, as well. Spike came crashing down off the counter, onto Buffy and Xander.

Tara sighed.

"I will be in my office," Giles said calmly, pretending not to notice the wrestling match that had broken out on the shop's floor.

"Are you guys about finished?" she asked a few minutes later, as the game of Twister-without- a-board slowly ground to a halt. It had taken them half an hour just to get out of the house, because a similar not-really-fight had broken out over who got to wrap Spike up in the blanket in the first place.

Xander because he was used to it, or Buffy because she could pretend to be smothering him.

"Er..." Spike pulled an arm out of the pile of limbs, and luckily for all concerned, it was attached to him. "Yeah. S'pose so. Was getting boring, really. No fun feeling the Slayer up when you don't get any enjoyment out of it."

"Ew!" From Buffy, of course.

Then a whap from Xander. "I"m gonna tell Anya--" Spike gave him a bewildered, 'what will that do?' look. Xander continued, "That you did it when she wasn't here to see." Then Xander was scrambling out of Spike's way, and another wrestling game began, interspersed this time with bouts of 'tag' and target practice.

Tara went to Giles' office. He was sitting at his desk, kneeling in his chair and bent over a large book. He looked up as she entered, and his face for a moment bore the same studious expression the elder Giles always had. "Yes, Tara?"

"Are you *sure* it'll be two whole weeks?"

There was a shriek and laughter, then "Look out!" from Buffy. A moment later there was a crash.

Neither Tara nor Giles moved.

A moment after that, Spike yelled, "I didn't do it!"

"If it's any consolation," Giles said kindly, "it'll *seem* like much longer than two weeks."

She stared at him for a while, then burst into laughter. "Oh..ha... oh. Wow. Heh. Okay, am I the *only* one who's noticed that those three are having way too much fun pretending to be kids?"

"No. Trust me, you're not the only one." He looked so terribly serious, kneeling there in his chair. He kept reaching for his face, to push back the glasses he wasn't wearing.

"So how come you're not joining in the fun? Taking advantage of it while you can, and all."

He barely glanced at her. "Because I am not, in fact, four years old."

Tara frowned a little. "But, you could...you know. Have fun. No one will know you aren't really four."

"*I* know I'm not four, Tara. Thank you, really, I appreciate what you're saying. But it isn't necessary."

From the shop, they heard, "Ow! Ow! Ow! Monster!!" from Xander.

From Buffy they heard, "I am *not* a monster!"

"Yes you are, you're a hair-pulling, cookie-stealing monster."

Tara glanced out the door. "Where did they get cookies?"

"I believe they got them from the cookie jar, where such things are usually stored."

"And the fact that the cookie jar is on top of the fridge didn't have anything to do with Xander's sudden need to run back into the kitchen to find his lost sock, with Spike's expert tracking skills."

"They're quite resourceful," Giles paused, and half-grinned, "Children. I sometimes think I would get Buffy to train harder and better if I hid chocolate in the training room."

"There's chocolate in the training room?" Two tiny faces peered around the office door. "Chocolate?" Buffy repeated.

"I heard him say chocolate. You said chocolate." Xander repeated.

"There is no--" Giles began. Then he blinked. "If I told you where it was, it wouldn't be hidden, would it?" Two loud squeals, and the two pint-sized adults ran off -- towards the training room.

"Was that nice?" Tara asked him.

"Am I required to be nice?" Giles asked. "It'll keep them in a relatively safe environment for a while, anyway. There's nothing in there that can be broken by even a full-size Slayer."

Tara stared at him, wondering when the last time he'd actually dealt with *real* children had been.

"Would you like to make a bet on that?"

In the distance, they could hear Spike shouting, "All right, who took the screwdriver?"

"No," Giles answered.

************

Part Five

"We *promise* we'll bring some back for you." Buffy looked earnestly at Spike. Which would have been enough to make her sick, if the chance of chocolate weren't looming happily on the horizon.

Spike scowled. "I don't think I trust you."

"Spike, come on. If we could get the blanket, we would. But it's up front, and Tara will see us. You wait here and we will be *right* back."

Spike kept scowling. Xander looked cute -- just a little. Spike growled. "Fine. But I want dark chocolate!"

"Absolutely!" Xander said even as he was grabbing Buffy's hand and dragging her towards the door. There wasn't much dragging, because she was as determined as he was.

Out on the sidewalk, Buffy looked both ways, and pointed. "There. Cafe Borgia has ice cream treats, and cookies, and double choco-fudge mochaccinos."

"I don't think they'll give us mochaccinos, Buff."

"You haven't seen *me* look cute yet."

"Yeah, actually, I have. But I don't think the whole looking cute thing will work when it comes to handing out grown-up beverages to four-year-olds."

"Wanna bet?"

"Nope. Want chocolate. Come on, let's try it."

Buffy looked at him. Xander shook his head. "Nope. Gotta make your eyes go wide. Wider. Wider -- yeah! That'll do it." He grinned, then his expression instantly turned into the most pathetic, starving, kick me I'm nobody can I have a piece of chocolate, Buffy had ever seen.

"Wow, you're good at that. How'd you learn how to do it so good?"

Xander shrugged, but his face looked shadowed. "Come on. Let's go tell 'em we're lost and hungry." He headed towards the Cafe Borgia.

"You know, we could have borrowed money from the Magic Box till," Buffy pointed out as they walked down the sidewalk.

"Where's the fun in that?"

She giggled.

Luckily for them, the door was propped open to let in the spring breeze, because the heavy glass would have been too much for a normal four-year-old to move. Buffy, of course, would have had no trouble, but it wouldn't make them look very hungry or pitiful for her to start showing off her superpowers.

Soon they were standing in front of the counter -- which was too tall for them to see over the top of. It didn't deter them in the slightest. Buffy went up on her tiptoes, trying to peer over the counter. Xander walked around her towards the ice cream, which he could almost see into, if he stood on *his* tiptoes.

They both looked hungry, but just a little bit sad.

"Can I help you?" the cashier leaned forward, giving Buffy a cheerful smile even as she spoke in a over-done condescending tone.

Buffy jutted out her chin, and slowly shook her head.

"Look," Xander said in a tone of awe. "They have chocolate." He carefully did not read the label that said 'Super Chocolate Double Fudge Marshmallow Ripple.'

"Umm... chocolate? Ice cweem?" Buffy moved over next to him, and he gave her a quick look, which let her know that yeah, the lisp was a nice touch, but don't overdo it. She nodded. Check. Got it.

"Uh-huh," Xander said sincerely, pointing.

Buffy looked, and she made her eyes get even bigger if that was possible. "Oh." They both stood there, not quite looking the cashier in the eye. Just staring at the thick brown ice cream with the dark fudgy stripes and the white marshmallowy stripes running through it.

The cashier followed them over to the ice cream part of the counter.

"We have some little cones just your size," she half-teased, half-sales-pitched, "or you could share a big one, if you two can convince your mom that you wouldn't fight over it."

Xander and Buffy looked at each other, then slowly looked back at the cashier. "That's OK," Xander began. "We were just looking."

"Xan," Buffy began in a little girl's tired, make it better for me tone, "I'm hungry."

Xander took her hand. "I know. But Mommy will be back soon. We'll have breakfast then." Buffy gave the ice-cream an extra wide-eyed look of longing, and Xander tugged her hand gently.

"Come on, Mommy told us to wait in the alley for her."

"But I'm hungry!" Buffy said again.

"Your mother told you to wait in the alley?" the cashier asked, frowning slightly.

Xander gave the cashier his best brave little boy look. Buffy whined, very quietly as if only for Xander to hear, "I want ice cream."

"Honey, how long have you been outside in the alley?" the woman asked, concern spreading across her face.

Buffy shrugged. Xander looked up earnestly and said "Dunno. A little while."

Buffy shook her head. "A long, long, time. I didn't eat in forever."

A little tap on her shoulder where the cashier couldn't see -- don't ham it up too much, Buff. Check, got that too.

"I think you two should sit down for a minute," the cashier said, coming around the counter. "There's some nice kid-sized seats right here." She pointed to a mini-table with matching sweetheart-type soda fountain chairs. Xander shook his head.

"No, thank you. We should really go back and wait."

Buffy pulled on his hand, and said to him in a stage-whisper, "But I want ice cream!"

"We don't have any money," Xander told her, patiently. "Mommy will buy us some when she gets back this time. I bet she will."

He took a step towards the door, and Buffy gave the ice cream counter a devastating look of disappointment.

The cashier crouched down beside them, putting her arms around them, and giving them a blatantly forced smile. "How about if I give you two an ice cream cone each, while you wait?"

Buffy squealed, "Yea! I want chocolate!" Xander, however, looked doubtful. Buffy turned on him. "Please? Please, I want some ice cream!"

"It's all right, dear, your mommy will be able to find you here," the cashier said.

Xander gave a slow nod, and put his arm around Buffy, pulling her toward the table. 'Nice touch' she mouthed.

Soon they were each gleefully licking at their own adult-size ice cream cone. Buffy had a chocolate smear on her nose, and Xander was doing his best to lick all the way around his ice- cream before one side or the other dripped down the cone.

"So... how exactly are we supposed to get chocolate for Spike?" Buffy asked under her breath. "Tell her we left our baby brother sitting out in the alley, and could we please have some for him too?" If only getting rid of

Spike were as easy as abandoning him in an alley...

"I'm still working on it," Xander said, equally quietly. "Maybe just say we have to go back and wait, and maybe can we have a candy bar to take with us?"

Buffy frowned. "I don't think he'll be satisfied with just a candy bar."

Xander glanced at his ice cream cone. "I suppose I could *share*--"

"Buffy! Xander! What are you two doing?" They'd never heard Tara shout, before. Hadn't known she had it in her. Nor did they known she had it in her to look quite so furious.

"Eep?" Buffy replied.

"Nuthin' ?" Xander tried valiantly. Possibly the chocolate smeared all over his own face made that statement seem a little farfetched, but Buffy had to give him points for effort.

"You couldn't wait an *hour* ? I was gonna bring you guys over here anyway."

The cashier came out from behind the counter again, looking at Tara like she was something extra-icky that you would have to get a newspaper just to scrape off the bottom of your shoe.

"Excuse me," she said very icily. "Are you their mother?"

Tara blinked. "Their what? No, I'm babysitting." She glanced at Xander and Buffy, and her expression changed into one they'd seen a lot in the last four days. "What did they do?"

The cashier seemed a bit off-balance, as she said, "They said...their mother left them in the alley. They hadn't had any breakfast and they--"

"Wanted ice cream?" Tara finished, nodding. "I'm so sorry. Let me pay you for those cones." She gave Xander and Buffy another sharp look as she pulled out her wallet.

Xander started easing out of his chair.

"You mean...they aren't...?" The cashier seemed confused, now, though she accepted the money Tara was handing her. Buffy began to eat her ice cream as fast as she could.

Xander had made it out of his chair, and began ever so slowly easing towards the door.

"Don't even think about it, Alexander." Tara said it without even looking back at him.

"I fear her," Xander whispered to Buffy, who was too busy licking her ice cream to do more than nod.

Suddenly Tara was standing in front of them. "Hands, please. Not the ones with the ice cream cones."

They glanced at each other. At least they hadn't lost the cones. Yet. Each of them held out a hand, and Tara began to lead them out of the shop.

"How'd you find us, anyway?" Xander asked. Good idea. They needed to know where they'd gone wrong, for next time.

"Spike. He got bored and told me you weren't really bringing him any ice cream." She stopped, and looked down at them, and their cones. She glanced back at the counter. "I can't get three more cones *and* make sure you two stay out of trouble on the way back to the store."

Xander looked as offended as Buffy felt. "We won't get into trouble!" she protested indignantly. Tara gave her a look. Buffy wilted, a little. "Anymore. This morning."

Tara sighed, and dragged them back towards the counter. "You two are going to have to carry Spike and Giles' ice cream. If you drop one -- they get what's left."

"Eew! I don't want Spike eating my ice cream. I might get reverse Spike-germs!" Buffy wrinkled her nose.

Xander frowned as Tara rolled her eyes and paid for three more cones. "Don't you mean he'd get Buffy germs?"

She sniffed. "I don't have germs. Besides the regular ones. He's the one with vampie- cooties." That last said low enough so that no one else in the store could hear it. Hopefully.

"I always thought he had to bite you. Didn't know you got it from cooties," Xander grinned.

"You should learn more -- do more research," Buffy said with a superior air. Xander stuck his tongue out at her.

"All right," Tara interrupted them. "Each of you take one of these." She handed Xander another chocolate fudge marshmallow ripple cone, and handed Buffy a pistachio cone.

Buffy wrinkled her nose. "Eew. I am *so* not dropping my cone."

"As long as no one trips you," Xander taunted. Buffy gave him a killing glare, to which Xander once again stuck out his tongue.

Tara sighed.

The cashier said, "I can understand why you might have left them in an alley."

Tara glared at Xander and Buffy again. "Yes, and we're going to have a *talk* about that when we get back to the shop." Turning to the woman again, she smiled politely. "Thank you for putting up with them. If you ever need any hensbane or bladderwort.. or.. um... a tarot reading, feel free to stop into the Magic Box, and I'll fix you up."

"Anya would be so proud," Xander said.

That got him another glare and Buffy whispered, "What do you think she meant by a *talk* ? Like one of those, "Now Buffy, you really shouldn't do things like that without consulting me,' lectures from Giles? Or one of the 'Giles thinks I almost got myself killed and now he's gonna finish the job' ones ?"

Xander gulped silently. "Hoping for number one, betting on number two."

"Maybe she means something else entirely," Tara said from behind them. Buffy and Xander looked up, startled, and Xander had to quickly move his hand to avoid dumping Spike's cone on the floor.

Cowed, and trying to figure out what she *did* mean, Xander and Buffy headed out towards the Magic Box. Every time either glanced back, Tara was right there, enjoying her ice cream and giving them a 'wait til I get you back to the shop' look.

When Tara opened the door for them, Xander preceded Buffy inside -- and was instantly beset by a tiny, excited vampire. "Chocolate! Mine!"

"No, I think the pistachio is yours, Spike," Buffy teased. Which earned her a fang-faced glare, then a chocolate-covered tongue stuck out in her direction, since Spike had already snatched the cone out of Xander's hand.

"The pistachio is mine, actually," Giles said from his spot perched on top of one of the counters. "And don't you *dare* drop it."

Buffy mimicked him as she walked over. "Don't you *dare drop it.... Bossy, bossy, bossy."

"I *am* your Watcher. It's my job to boss you around."

Buffy stopped, halfway across to the counter. Held up the ice cream. "Say that again?"

Giles jumped down and started towards her. Buffy waved her hand a bit, making the ice cream sway.

"Remember what I said about sharing?" Tara reminded her.

"But he doesn't like chocolate fudge marshmallow ripple," Buffy replied.

Giles got closer, and Buffy took a step back. Tara walked up behind Buffy. When Buffy grinned up at her, unrepentant, Tara said sadly, "I can't believe you'd be so mean to him."

Buffy huffed once, rolled her eyes, didn't *quite* stamp her foot, and handed the cone over to Giles. Who took a lick, and a look of indescribable joy came over his face for a few seconds. Then he looked at Buffy, grinned smugly, and said, "Told you."

Buffy narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips together. For about half a second, then she opened her mouth. "You did *not* boss me around. Tara just appealed to my better nature."

"You haven't got one," Spike said with a mouthful of ice cream.

Buffy was about ready to hurl something at the vampire -- when she realized the only thing she had handy to throw was her ice cream cone. She gave Spike a dirty look, and went back to eating her ice cream.

Tara looked at them all, then shook her head. "If I had known having your hands full of ice cream would make you behave, I would have bought some yesterday."

"That was Spike's fault!" Buffy shouted.

"Was not!" Spike countered.

Buffy paused for a lick of her cone. Then, "Was!"

Spike swallowed a mouthful of his own ice cream, then said, "Was not!"

Neither of them made any move to strike the other, as they normally would have done. Tara smiled.

"Now. About sneaking out of the shop by yourselves, without telling anybody where you were going..." she began.

"We did too," Xander protested. "We told Spike!"

"Xander, you're not helping," Buffy said.

"Hey, I'm somebody!" Spike piped up.

Xander shot him a glance full of sunshine-- vampire-burning sunshine. "Yeah, somebody who was supposed to keep his big fangy mouth shut."

"If Spike hadn't told me where you were, I'd have been looking up and down the street for you, convinced you'd been kidnapped, or run over, or dragged away by trolls." She held up one hand to cut off twin protests from the two sneakaways. "Please don't tell me you're adults in kids' bodies again. First of all, you're at about half your usual strength, Buffy. If something big had run up and chomped on Xander, do you think you could have beat it up in time?"

"Yes," Buffy immediately. But she glanced guiltily at Xander. "Of course I would have," she said, but she knew she was trying to convince herself.

"Secondly, if you were being responsible, you would have come and told me you were going. I would even have given you money for the ice cream."

"But our way was so much more fun." Xander grinned, then wiped it from his face when Tara frowned at him.

"Yeah, I was only worried about your welfare," Spike put in. He looked sincere, even as he took another lick of his ice cream. Amazingly, he didn't have any chocolate on his face. Xander grumbled quietly that it was probably another evil, vampiric super power.

"You were worried we weren't going to bring you back any chocolate," Xander corrected him.

"Would you do that to me?" Spike pouted.

"As a matter of fact, no. We were just trying to think of a way to get some for you when we got...um...rescued."

"Oh." Spike went straight from pouting to happy, with no detour to 'guilty' on the way.

"And speaking of welfare," Tara really frowned this time. "Did you not get that that woman was about to call social services on me? Or whoever your imaginary evil mom who left you in the alley was. What if I *hadn't* got there in time, and we'd had to try to explain this to the police, instead of just one cashier?"

Buffy and Xander looked at each other. "Um..."

"If you want us to remember that you're adults in there, you should really try to act like adults. Not four-year-olds." Tara walked away from them, moving to sit at the table near the books. Giles went over to join her, looking smug. Buffy noticed that the green smear of pistachio on his cheek didn't help.

Xander, Buffy, and Spike looked at one another. They kept licking their ice cream, but Buffy found that she wasn't really hungry for it anymore.

"So," Xander said after another moment of silent reflection. "I guess we should behave ourselves?"

Spike and Buffy looked back at him. They all grinned, and mouthed 'nah.'

****************

"I want the one with the Pelican head!" Buffy and Xander were racing for the boingy spring animals, while Spike stood back and laughed.

"Those things don't even *go* anywhere!"

The diminutive vampire was climbing up the 12 foot slide -- the slide, not the steps -- by the time his cohorts had decided that the one with the Pelican head looked kind of evil, and they were going to play on the swings instead.

"Could you explain to me again how this is 'training' ?" Giles asked Willow as they sat on the park bench.

Willow smiled and held her finger up to her lips. "It's really a time honoured technique of child-rearing. Called 'tire them out so they fall asleep when they're supposed to'."

"Ah." Giles nodded, and turned to face the playground, watching as Xander and Buffy started competing to see who could swing higher. Spike was still slipping more than he was climbing, on the slide.

"Um, you know you could go...." Willow began. "Um, if you wanted to."

Giles shook his head, though he didn't break his gaze. "That's all right. I don't need to be tired out before bed."

"Yeah, but, Giles," Willow leaned over, gesturing at the playground equipment. "How often do you get a chance like this? To play on stuff that you're the right size to play on?"

He shook his head. "I don't need to play, either, Willow. I know that Buffy and Xander enjoy it because you're not that far out of childhood yourselves, all of you. And Spike... is Spike. We should be grateful he's merely attacking defenseless playground equipment."

Willow blew bangs out of her face, as if this were an argument they'd had several times -- which it was. "It's not like it'll break your dignity as an apparent four-year-old to be seen playing in a park. In fact, you look a little weird just sitting here watching." She gave him a stern eye. "And no Watcher jokes, please."

"Willow, it's dark -- no one is out here, but us."

"Well, what if someone comes by? They'll think you're being punished, and they'll look cross at me and say how cruel, letting the others play and keeping him over here, what could he possibly have done--' " She broke off as Giles climbed off the bench.

"All right, fine," he muttered. "I shall go...er...." He looked around the playground. "I shall go sit on those bars, is that all right?"

"I think you'd like the tire swing, better," she said brightly.

Giles glared at her, but turned without saying anything. Willow watched as he went over to the monkey bars, and climbed up to sit on one.

"They'll look cross at you?" Dawn repeated with a giggle as she leaned over the bench from behind Willow.

"Giles-speak. Hey, it worked, didn't it?"

"You do realize that you and Tara are *way* too good at this stuff?"

Willow blinked. "Well, in my case, I've babysat for years. *You*, for instance." Dawn gave her a small smile, and Willow ducked her head. "Well, I *remember* babysitting for you. Granted, you weren't four, you were nine. But the principle is still the same. You just required more ice cream."

"I think they're going to require a *lot* more ice cream, if it keeps preventing them from trashing the house while they're eating it."

"I have to keep telling myself it's OK to constantly give them ice cream...until they're sick and pass out. Which also keeps them out of trouble." Willow smiled.

She glanced over at Buffy and Xander, who were still trying to reach orbit on the swings. Spike was sliding down the slide on his stomach, though whether it was intentional or not, she didn't know. When he reached the ground, he jumped up and ran over to the swings and grabbed the one on the other side of Xander.

Giles was still watching, sitting on the bar, swinging his legs.

"Okay, at least I got him off the bench, so he *looks* like he's playing," Willow said.

"Think I should go bug him?" Dawn asked, staring across at Giles as well.

Willow shook her head. "Nah. He'll just go all 'I'm Super Stuffyman in my four-year-old secret identity' on you. Let him do what he wants." She glanced back at Dawn. "Of course, *you* could go play..."

"Race you to the merry-go-round?"

The two girls jumped up, and raced towards the merry-go-round. They reached it at the same time, jumping on and yelling out, "You have to spin it!" They looked at each other and began laughing.

A moment later, Xander was climbing onto the merry-go-round with them. "Who's spinning it? Don't look at me, I'm only four."

"Here, I will - the first time," Willow said, giving Dawn a look. Dawn beamed, and sat in the center. Xander crawled to one of the bars along the edge and grabbed on.

"Let'er rip!" he cried out.

"Xander, if you fall off-"

"I'll regret it in the morning. I know! I know! I'm hanging on."

Willow gave it a good running push, then climbed on. Soon the artificial wind was blowing her hair all over the place, and Xander was shouting "Cowabunga!" Dawn of course, sat in the middle like a Buddha, pretending she wasn't getting completely sick to her stomach.

Spike and Buffy were looking at each other with evil grins. At least from what Willow could tell every time her section of the merry-go-round strobed around to let her see the swingset. It was kind of frightening, how similar they looked, for two people who were supposed to be mortal enemies.

Her eyes narrowed as it clicked in her head exactly what they were planning. "Don't you...." They had jumped off their swings at the highest point of the arc before she even got the word 'dare' out. Tucked, rolled, and come up in a puff of grass and dust right at the foot of the monkey bars. "I suppose I'd be wasting my breath to point out that you could've busted your heads open?"

Spike and Buffy ignored her, no doubt pretending they were too far away to have heard her. She could hear them clearly, of course, as they went up to either side of Giles.

"I bet he's just here because he's afraid of heights," Spike said, climbing onto the lowest bar.

"He isn't," Buffy retorted. "He just probably *can't* climb higher." She climbed up to the second lowest bar.

Spike climbed up after her, neither of them looking down when Giles said, "I most certainly could if I wanted to."

"Whatever," Buffy said, climbing still higher.

"Oh, for... I could. It's not as if I'm a..."

"Great big scaredy cat?" Spike supplied as he passed Buffy and reached for the top rung.

"Vampire with a mouth that's bigger than his ability to back it up..." Giles responded, and started to climb.

"Tweed-for-brains!" Spike called down.

Giles said something they couldn't hear from the merry-go-round, but Spike laughed. Giles climbed up, quickly reaching the top. "Now who's--" He stopped, as Spike and Buffy were already climbing down the other side. "Where are you going?" he yelled after them, and began climbing down.

Spike and Buffy reached the bottom, waiting there until Giles was almost upon them. Then they ran for the tornado slide.

Buffy ran up the steps properly, Giles close behind. Spike, of course, had to do things the backwards way. He was halfway up the corkscrew slide when Buffy yelled 'Look out below!" and she and Giles both came shooting down at him. The three of them landed in a tangle of arms and legs at the foot of the slide.

A sandy-haired, grin-covered head popped up from the mess. "Can we do that again?"

"Yeah, but this time *you* get to be the one that gets slammed into!" Spike replied.

"No, I think it should be Buffy," Giles countered. "Let's see if she's really strong enough to catch us."

Buffy, who had been about to protest, took this as a challenge. "Oh, I am! I'll show you." She went to the bottom of the slide. When Spike and Giles had climbed the stairs, she called up, "Ready?"

Spike made shushing motions to Buffy. "In a moment!" Then Spike and Giles hurled themselves down the slide.

Willow put her head in her hands.

She wasn't precognitive, really. So why did she know with a sort of doomed certainty , what was going to happen? She peeked, and sure enough, as soon as Spike and Giles got past the point where they could remotely slow themselves down, Buffy stepped aside. "Oops!" she said as the two boys hurtled off the slide and rolled into another heap, this time quite a bit further away from the foot of the slide. "Guess you're right -- I'm not strong enough to catch you."

She giggled as Spike and Giles exchanged a glance. "Get her!"

Buffy screamed and ran away, Spike and Giles on her heels. At first.

The diminutive Slayer was still faster than normal mortals, and though Spike was faster than Giles, Buffy soon left them both behind.

Spike kept after her, but Giles came to a stop near the merry-go-round. Xander held out a hand, and Giles climbed on. "Willow, spin us again!" Xander told her.

"Wait, let me get off... uh, I think I should go after Spike and Buffy," Dawn said, looking green and woozy.

"Only if they're heading to the bathroom," Willow said with a not-unkind laugh. "You shouldn't have eaten quite so much ice cream yourself, tonight."

"Bleagh," Dawn replied, climbing unsteadily to her feet and stepping off the merry-go-round.

"Ready?' Willow asked as soon as Dawn was clear. Xander nodded; Giles just rolled his eyes.

Xander elbowed him. "Hang on-- she pushes fast."

Willow grinned, and gave the ride another spin.

**************

Part Six

"All right, who wants a burger?" Dawn held up a plate and walked over to the table. Six cries of 'me! me!' drowned out anything else she could have said. She set the plate down beside Willow, and returned to the kitchen. When she came out this time, she asked, "Who wants green veggies?" No one said anything. Dawn grinned. "Good, because I don't have any. Potato salad, though...."

Again, six cries of 'me' drowned her out.

As they passed the food around the table, there was a certain amount of bouncing in chairs. Probably because they all knew there was strawberry shortcake with ice cream and whipped cream for dessert. Willow and Tara weren't above bouncing in seats for strawberry shortcake, either.

"Hey -- Spike's stealing fries from me!" This from Buffy, who gave the vampire on her left a slight push on the shoulder.

"Was not. Like I'd want to eat anything you touched," Spike shot back. Then he popped a ketchup-laden fry into his mouth. Dawn glanced at his plate. Yep. *His* pile of french fries was covered with mustard.

Buffy apparently noticed, as well. She grabbed the ketchup bottle, and squirted some all over Spike's french fries.

"Hey! What was that for?"

She reached over and took one of the now-ketchuped fries, and ate it.

"Children, behave," Willow said in a calm tone.

"Stop kicking my chair."

"I'm not kicking your chair."

"Are too."

"Stop it!"

Willow looked over. "Xander, Giles, am I going to have to make you stand in the corners?" She was smiling, a little. Dawn thought it was probably because Giles had given in and played with the others for a couple hours, that afternoon. Still was, if you considered annoying each other 'play'.

Since it was raining, the park wasn't an option, so they'd all had to stay indoors during the day today, not just Spike. Giles had quietly wandered over and helped Xander build a Lego castle that still stood on the coffee table. Admittedly, a bit trashed, since Spike's horde of vampire G.I. Joes had attacked it soon after it was built.

Of course, the whole kid thing could be taken too far. Like for instance the fact that Giles and Xander *still* hadn't stopped kicking each other's chairs.

"Um, guys?" Dawn tapped Xander on the shoulder. One more kick, then Xander looked up with an inquisitive expression. "Don't you think you should act like grown-ups, now, and eat before your food gets cold?"

"That's what microwaves are for," Xander said, and gave Giles' chair another strong kick that made the chair wobble.

"Stop it!" Giles shouted, and began to kick back. Dawn pulled Giles' chair back out of the way.

"I think this 'acting like a kid' thing can take a rest, don't you?" Dawn leaned down between them. Xander and Giles looked at her, then looked at each other.

"I will if he will," from both of them.

"Excuse me?" She looked back and forth between the two of them. They looked perfectly serious, and perfectly willing to continue irritating each other all night.

"Well, he started it," Giles accused.

"I did not! You kicked my chair when you sat down."

"That was an accident!"

Dawn looked down at the other end of the table. "Willow?"

"Hey, Giles, Xan, cut it out for a while, huh?" Willow said gently.

"He's annoying me!" Xander complained, then stuck his tongue out at Spike when the vampire said 'right on, mate!'

"Guys, come on, this isn't fun anymore." Willow sighed, looking a little tired. Tara glanced her way, then squeezed her hand gently.

"*I'm* having fun," Spike remarked.

Buffy whapped him on the arm. Spike started to whap her back. "Not you as well! Please, guys. You're adults. Act like it." Willow's voice snapped, just a little, at the end.

"I will if she will," Spike said with a smirk. Buffy picked up her fork, loaded with potato salad, and aimed it for Spike.

"Stop it!" Willow yelled, standing up so fast her chair nearly tipped over. Everyone's eyes were on her, as she glared at each of the four-year-olds. "If you want to act like kids, then you'll be treated like kids! The next person who misbehaves is getting sent to bed this instant!"

There was silence around the table as four people who should supposedly know better looked at each other, then back at Willow with big, somewhat startled eyes.

"Er...sorry. Don't know what came over me," Giles said quietly. He really looked like he didn't, too. A bit confused and fuzzy.

"I'm not." From Spike, who grinned. "But I'm not gettin' sent to bed before strawberry shortcake."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "You know, if I'd known all I had to do to make evil vampires be good was give them dessert, I could've retired to Miami Beach by now."

"I'm not good. I'm just temporarily well-behaved," Spike protested.

"You will be *good*," Willow reiterated as she sat back down. "Or no dessert for a *month*."

Dawn refrained from pointing out that they wouldn't be kids for a month, when she saw how well it seemed to have worked: Spike opened his mouth -- then stopped, and shut it. He went back to eating his french fries. He glanced at Buffy's plate, then his own. Then he looked timidly up at Willow. "Do I have to give her back the fries I didn't take but might have rescued from falling off her plate?"

Willow just glared at him.

"Right. Here." Spike dumped a handful of fries on Buffy's plate.

"I knew you took them!" Buffy began. Then she shot a guilty look towards Willow, and went back to her dinner, as well.

The grown-ups all looked at Xander, who had been sitting quietly throughout. Xander just looked back. Not a grin, not a smile, not an eep-face, either. Utterly blank expression.

At least they didn't have to yell at *him,* too. Heaving a sigh of more than just relief -- it was exhausting, taking care of four not-really-four-year-olds -- Dawn turned her attention to her own plate. She had bitten halfway into her burger, and was just starting to come to the conclusion that Willow was a better cook than she had realized, when they all heard the little thud.

Followed by another.

Dawn looked up at Willow, who was scanning up and down the table. Every not-kid seemed to be firmly entrenched in ploughing through his or her dinner.

Willow looked around at each face more intently, before settling on the one who had been the most quietly unimpressed by Willow's earlier outburst. She turned her attention towards him, and waited until he looked up at her.

"Xander? Would you like a bedtime story tonight?"

Xander's innocent blank expression turned into one of excitement -- then almost as quickly into suspicion. "Yes?"

"Then stop kicking Giles' chair."

Xander glanced down, obviously weighing the benefits of chair-kicking and Giles-annoying, with getting a story from Willow. "How long of a story?" he finally asked.

**********************

Willow came down the stairs slowly, to join Tara and Dawn on the couch. "Well. That was..."

"Exhausting?" Tara supplied.

"How about freaky?" Dawn leaned her head on her arm and rubbed at her neck with her other hand. "I mean, I know Buffy's always lived to annoy me in her own I'm-older-and-I-know-what's- right way, but this is the first time I've ever felt like *I* was the big sister. For real." She stretched her neck back and forth and grimaced. "Exhausting works too, though."

"Yeah, it was like... they forgot, or something. That they weren't really kids." Willow shook her head in wonder. "Maybe it's because everyone treats them like kids. It's a subconscious reaction to being what everyone expects you to be."

"But when we try treating them like adults, they act like kids. Especially Xander and Spike," Tara said.

"Well, Xander and Spike *always* act like kids. I think it's a guy thing," Willow replied.

"I think it's a Xander and Spike thing," Dawn said.

"Hopefully they'll be themselves in the morning. I don't think I can take this much longer." Willow began rubbing her neck. Tara scooted away on the couch, a little, and turned so she could reach Willow's shoulders. As she began rubbing, Willow moaned. "Oo, I'm keeping you."

"It's only another week," Tara said quietly. "They really aren't that bad. Just...exhausting."

Dawn gave her a grin. "I bet you're gonna end up with four kids of your own, aren't you?"

Tara smiled, shyly. Willow glared at her. "Don't even think it. Not unless the oldest one is old enough to take care of the rest of them!"

"Well, hopefully not quadruplets," Tara agreed. "And no vampires."

"Ye Gods, I hope not. Then we'd have at least one permanent four-year-old."

"So we're back to talking about Spike?" Dawn laughed.

"Well, he *was* the loudest." They all grinned, though at the time -- fifteen minutes ago -- it hadn't been funny. Though they'd been more or less well-behaved throughout and after dinner, once they'd started yawning the threat of no-dessert and early bed didn't hold.

There had been whining, and pouting, and stomping about, before Willow, Tara, and Dawn had simply carried the smaller ones upstairs. Spike had shouted his head off that he was being murdered. Five minutes after Willow had plonked him down on the bed and held him there, his eyes had closed.

"Is there anything *really* morally wrong with putting Nyquil in their milk?" Dawn questioned.

Willow nodded. "I think there's a line between letting them eat themselves sick on sugar because they'll be adults next week, and actually drugging them."

Dawn shrugged. "Never hurts to ask." She glanced at the television. "You think it's safe to turn that thing on, or will it wake 'em up?"

"We can keep the volume down low," Willow said. Dawn nodded and picked up the remote, and started channel surfing.

She'd barely settled on a show, when they all head a footfall on the stairs. When they looked up, they saw Xander standing there, looking hesitant.

"Xander," Willow sighed. "Why are you awake? Never mind," she said without giving him the chance to respond.

Xander took another step towards them, and they could see there was something upsetting him. Willow was off the couch and over at his side before anyone could ask what was wrong. She knelt down in front of him, with him on the last step her head was below his. "Xander? What is it?"

"I'm scared."

Willow raised an eyebrow at him. "Really? Well, I'll have to come back upstairs with you and make sure there's no scary Spike-monsters in your bed or anything." She leaned down, and Xander reached his arms up to be lifted. Over his shoulder, Willow mouthed, "Pity-cuddles..." at the other girls, who smiled. She carried him up the stairs, whispering to him, "We'll just make sure the Big Bad doesn't hog all the bed-space, okay?"

Xander murmured something sleepily, and leaned his head against her shoulder.

She took him back to the bedroom, and tiptoed in so as not to wake the others. Giles was curled up on his side, facing away from the center of the bed where Xander had been. Spike was sprawled out across the entire other half of the bed, seemingly oblivious to everything. When Willow leaned over to put Xander back in the bed, he reached out and pulled Xander towards him and snuggled.

Willow watched as Spike wrapped one arm and one leg around and over Xander, glomming onto him as if to prevent him from escaping, again. Willow grinned and pulled the blankets back into place.

She waited a moment, to make sure Xander was really going back to sleep. Spike opened one eye and looked at her. She grinned, waved, and tiptoed out of the room.

They managed to have a quiet evening. Watching TV while Dawn did her homework, Willow and Tara helped without actually breaking down and giving her the answers. There were no more visits from should-be-in-bed-people, and finally they were all yawning, themselves. Dawn gathered her things and said goodnight, leaving Willow and Tara to put out the lights before heading upstairs as well.

The quiet lasted as they got ready for bed, and crawled under the covers and cuddled. Willow was almost asleep, and knew Tara was already asleep, when she heard someone come into the room.

"Huuh..." Opening her mouth to ask who was there also opened the way for a yawn. She sat up, and peered at the small figure in the doorway. "Xan? Once was fine, but it's not really funny anymore."

"Willow?"

"Yeah, Xander. If you were hoping for a peek at our nighties, I hate to disappoint you, but we're wearing sweats."

He shuffled a bit further into the room, until she could see the look on his face, in the faint light that came in the window from the back porch light. "Xander?"

"I'm scared."

"Xan.."

"Really scared. I don't know why, and I don't like it."

"Xander?" She could see that he wasn't kidding, this time. It occurred to her that he might not have been, earlier. She held out her arms, and Xander hurried forward, climbing onto the bed and into her lap. She held him close, and leaned down to see his face.

He really was scared.

"Did you have a bad dream?" she asked quietly, though she could see that Tara had opened her eyes and was listening.

Xander shook his head. "Don't think so."

"Did Spike kick you in his sleep?"

Again, he shook his head. "I just woke up. And it was dark." He looked up at her, and she felt something clench, in her chest. Right around her heart. It had been so long since she'd seen this face....

There were reasons why Xander had shown up at her window at dawn some days. Reasons why he'd spent the night, as well. The simplest one was that in the Rosenberg home, anybody who wanted a night light could have one. But most of them weren't very simple at all.

She studied his face, and he frowned. "Are you mad? I'll go away if you're mad. I'm sorry."

Willow put a hand on his head, brushing his hair out of his eyes, and closed her own, just for a second. When she opened them, he was still looking at her as if he was afraid he was going to be punished for being scared. Or for coming to tell her about it.

"Oh, no. No, no, Xan, it's okay. " She tried to sound as grown up as possible, while she was wondering where this child had come from who reminded her so much of the Xander she had known back then. She hugged him tightly, rocking ever so slightly back and forth. "I'm not mad. I won't ever be mad. It's ok."

Xander didn't move, for the barest moment. Then he clung to her, digging his fingers into her shirt and burying his face against her chest.

Willow spared a thought that if he *was* faking, he was one dead kid.

But it didn't feel like he was faking it. He seemed really scared. She looked down at him, and asked, "Do you want a night light in your bedroom?" She had no idea where she would find one in the Summers house, but she could always magick up a little fairy light, even make it a soft green color, which she knew Xander would like.

He closed his eyes, and nibbled on his bottom lip. Then opened them again, and shook his head. "Can I... Can I stay here? Please?"

There might have been just a tiny bit of 'Mom left me in the alley, can I have some ice cream' pitifulness in those eyes, but as far as she could tell, most of it was real.

And if there *was* some of that other look in his eyes, maybe it didn't matter. She couldn't imagine Xander ever having tried asking his *own* parents if he could sleep with them. Or if he had... Was it wrong of her not to want to know what had happened, if he had? She glanced over at Tara.

Who blinked once, then smiled, and nodded. Scooted over towards the wall to make room.

"OK, Xander. You can stay here with us." She turned to ease him down onto the bed between her and Tara; Xander was still holding onto her as he laid down. Willow half-expected him to stick his thumb in his mouth -- then she smiled. "I'll be right back."

Willow disentangled herself from Xander, which was difficult when he pouted harder at her. She slipped away, though, and sneaked down the hall to Buffy's room. When she came back, she had Mr. Gordo in her hands.

She found Xander curled on his side, snuggled up against Tara but watching the door for Willow's return. She came over to the bed and held out the stuffed pig. "I don't think Buffy will mind if you borrow Mr. Gordo."

Xander looked at her doubtfully for a moment, even though she'd seen his

hand twitch towards the stuffed animal. Then he took it, still frowning slightly as if not

sure it was proper for a boy to want to sleep with a stuffed toy, and held it tightly in both arms.

She shot Tara a look over his head, as he settled in between them. The 'we must talk later' look. Although half of what they needed to talk about was probably evident on her face. This was more than just subconscious childlike behavior at the table or over toys, because everyone *expected* them to act like kids. This was something different.

*What* it was, she couldn't be entirely sure of, but hopefully it would keep until morning.

One hand on Xander's shoulder, one tucked beneath his neck, she lowered her head to the pillow.

She wasn't even remotely close to sleep, this time, before another small figure appeared in the doorway. Spike, hair standing out around his head, rubbing his eyes with both hands, and blinking at her. Worried. "Where's Xan? He's gone. I can't find him."

She'd barely lifted her hand to wave him over, when Spike's eyes darted to Xander, and Spike was scrambling up onto the bed and wriggling under the covers next to him. Willow blinked, and stared at him. He wrapped himself around Xander, as he had when she'd taken Xander back to bed earlier, and closed his eyes.

Willow opened her mouth to ask Spike what the heck he was doing. Then she shut it. If Xander really was upset, then she couldn't very well demand that Spike go back to the other room and sleep with Giles. Willow glanced towards the door. Giles wasn't going to sneak in here too, was he?

She had almost decided he wasn't, when she heard the padding of bare feet in the hallway, and a little head poked around the door frame. "Er... did they come in here to bother you? I'm sorry. Come on, you two, come back to bed."

Xander popped his unsleeping head up. "Nuh-uh. Not goin'."

"Oh, come on, Xander--"

Spike looked up at Giles, and calmly stuck his tongue out. "He doesn't wanna go, he doesn't have to."

Willow took a deep breath, refrained from rolling her eyes, and *did* shake her head. "No, Giles, they're not bothering us. It's okay."

Blink of sleep-fuzzed eyes. "Oh. Well. All right, then, I guess." He peered at the two others in the middle of the bed, then turned around to go, carefully squaring his shoulders. Walking slowly back towards Buffy and Dawn's bedroom.

Willow sighed, to herself. "Giles? There's room for one more."

He stopped, but looked over his shoulder. "No, I don't need to. I don't mind having the bed to myself for once."

Willow scooted towards the edge of the bed as much as she could, and saw Tara do the same. They grabbed the SpikeXander amoeba and pulled them towards Willow, making enough space for one more four-year-old.

"Come on, Giles. Plenty of room." Tara patted the bed.

Giles hesitated, though he didn't head towards them, neither did he continue down the hall back to Buffy's room. "I don't really...."

Spike lifted his head slightly and grinned in Giles direction. "Bawck, bawck, bawckawckkk..."

"I beg your pardon..."

"He's calling you a chicken," Xander mumbled sleepily. "Get in bed already. M' tired."

"You don't wanna see him get grumpy," Spike warned.

Willow agreed. Grumpy Xander meant he'd give you the mad-face. Which could shatter mirrors and frighten small furry animals.

Giles shrugged. "I suppose," he said hesitantly, coming all the way into the room. "If you insist." He climbed carefully up onto the bed and lay down between Tara and Xander.

Willow waited until the three additional bedmates were settled, before she lay her head down again. Spike had stolen most of her pillow, and she briefly considered getting into a tug-of- war with him for it. She'd always won those with Xander, but she wasn't sure she could overcome even tiny vampire strength.

Besides, she had to admit, Spike and Xander -- and Giles -- looked too cute to disturb.

As long as Spike didn't kick her.

********

Part Seven

"I wanna watch Batman Beyond!" Xander had the remote, and was holding it over Giles' head.

Giles couldn't quite jump up and grab it, or he would spill his bowl of Fruity Pebbles, so he settled for whining. "What's wrong with Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood? They have puppets."

"'Cos it's silly. How could that little puppet king be that big human girl's uncle? What, her mum was human and her dad was a puppet?" Spike was ensconced on the other end of the couch with a *giant* bowl of cereal.

"Yeah, I always wanted to know that too," Buffy said. "And anyway, we've seen all those shows. The cartoons are new ones."

In the kitchen, Willow leaned over to Tara. "Now would *not* be the time to tell them about my mother's paper on the Freudian significance of the trolley going though the tunnel to get to the happy fantasy land, I'm thinking."

Dawn looked up from her cereal at the table. "What?"

"Nothing."

"I'm not sure they'd...get it," Tara said, glancing worriedly towards the four children arguing over the remote.

Willow nodded. "It's weird. Something's...definitely not-hunky-dorey about this."

"You mean how they're arguing over a TV show that two weeks ago none of them had ever heard of?" Dawn asked.

Willow looked at her. "I think Spike and Xander probably have watched it before."

Dawn raised an eyebrow. "At 9 o'clock on a Saturday morning?"

"Well, I think it was on in the afternoons...but that's not what's weird. I mean, it is what's weird. But not what's really weird. It's like they've all stopped trying to be grown- ups, anymore."

Dawn nodded. "Yeah. Buffy threw a real hissy-fit when she found out Spike and Giles and Xander got to sleep with you guys last night. I thought she was just kidding, you know, 'cause she started the pouting thing, but she sat on the bed with her arms crossed for twenty minutes, and wouldn't talk to me." She frowned, looking a bit worried. "Do you think that spell is messing with their brains, too? Like, brain damage kind of messing?"

Willow and Tara exchanged glances, confirming that they'd each had the same thought -- and weren't going to give in to it.

"No, I don't think so. Giles said the spell wouldn't do any permanent damage," Willow said.

"You mean, Giles who had already been affected by the spell when he researched it, Giles?" Dawn asked.

Willow just looked at Dawn for a moment. Then she turned to Tara. "I think we should call our other stuffy British former-Watcher good with the languages person."

Tara nodded, but as Willow went over towards the phone, said thoughtfully, "I don't think he's stuffy, anymore."

There were four screams from the living room - difficult to tell if they

were screams of delight or anger, but they were definitely not the "there is real blood and pain here" type of screaming. All three grown-ups ignored them.

Dawn frowned. "Do we need to get somebody else, then? I think stuffiness may be a requirement for the job..."

"I think we'll have to make do with non-stuffy language Watcher guy," Willow said as she dialed. "I don't *know* anybody else."

Soon she was exchanging greetings with Cordelia, and explaining the situation in between fits of hysterical laughter on the other end of the line.

"You mean they're *all* like three feet tall, and wearing Underoos?" Cordelia asked. "Even Giles?"

"No, Giles wouldn't wear the Underoos. Which was a good thing, because they only had two packages left, and Xander and Spike were fighting over who got Batman and who had to be stuck with Spiderman. Is Wesley actually *there* ? Because there'll be plenty of time to laugh at them later, you know."

"Oh, sure. Hey, I don't suppose you took pictures?"

Willow found herself suppressing a sigh. "Yes, we have pictures. Lots of pictures. I'll give you copies of everything. Can I talk to Wesley? This is kinda serious."

"What, they aren't going to bed on time? OK, OK, hang on."

Willow had to hold the phone away from her ear as Cordelia yelled. She shook her head, then had to repeat her story once Wesley came on the line. He, at least, asked relevant questions, and listened to her.

He still chuckled.

When she hung up the phone, there were two expectant face looking at her, and four youthful voices still raising a minor ruckus in the next room. "Wesley thinks he's heard of the Urdeku, but he's not all that familiar with it. He wants to come up here and check out the books."

"Couldn't you just scan them and e-mail it to him?" Dawn asked.

Willow smiled mischievously. "I think he also wants to come up here and check out the kids." A bit more seriously, "He's never heard of it causing any lasting damage, and he thinks Giles was probably right, but he wants to see for himself how they're acting, so maybe between us we can figure out what's happening."

Dawn blew a raspberry. "He just wants to take videos of Giles that he can blackmail him with them later."

Willow's eyes went wide. "Videos! We need a video camera. Do we have a video camera?" she asked Tara.

Tara patted her on the arm. "Maybe we should think about getting them turned back into grown-ups, instead."

***********

Part Seven

Willow was the one who opened the door. Cordelia stepped inside, looking around with an eager expression. Behind her, Wesley was carrying a satchel and looking over his shoulder. They both moved aside as a trench-coat-and-blanket wrapped figure sped through the door.

As he dropped his protection from the sunlight, Angel asked, "What's wrong?"

"They didn't tell you?" Willow began to ask, giving Cordelia and Wesley a curious look.

They were interrupted by a young voice screaming "DADDY!!!" and a small white blur flung itself at Angel. The vampire instinctively flung his hands up to ward off whatever might be attacking, then, just as instinctively, reached them out towards the scent of his childe. Who was... um...

"He's a *child* ?" Angel asked as Spike practically swarmed up his body until he was somehow being carried upright in Angel's arms, his head bobbing almost as high as his sire's. "Spike?"

"I am *not* a child." Spike whacked him on the head, and stuck his tongue out through thoroughly vampy teeth. "So there, you big poof-head."

Angel just stared at Spike for a moment, then looked at the others. "He's shrunk?"

"He's so cute!" Cordelia said, hand snaking up to pinch Spike's cheek. Spike growled at her, and she giggled. "I have got to have a picture of this."

She started digging through her purse. Wesley was merely watching, a distinctly amused expression on his face. Then they heard, "Hey!" They looked over in time to see Buffy bouncing off the couch...and towards Angel. Who caught her reflexively, holding her even as he sent the others a confused, bewildered, and totally lost look. "Tell your dodo-head childe that we are *not* watching Pokemon!" she demanded, in that imperious tone only little girls can ever manage.

"We're not watching bloody She-Ra repeats on the Cartoon Network! Ooo, I'm a girlie in a little white toga with a sword and a magic unicorn..." Spike's already high voice went off into falsetto-land, and he put one hand on his hip and batted his eyelashes. Buffy smacked him on the nose. "Ow! Make her stop! I can't hit her back!"

"Buffy, don't hit Spike," Willow said, not quite suppressing a giggle. "It's not nice."

"I hit him all the time when we're big. What's the difference now?"

"He's not as cute when he's big," Cordelia said. Angel was looking from one grown-up sized person to the next, waiting for answers while trying to keep his childe and his ex-girlfriend far enough away from each other that they didn't get into a hair-pulling fight and accidentally mistake his hair for each other's.

"Am too as cute!" Spike protested.

"Yeah," Xander said from the couch. Where Giles was sitting more or less calmly, and Xander was waving the remote triumphantly.

Cordelia looked over, blinked twice, then turned to Willow, Tara, and Dawn. "I need more film. I need *lots* more film."

"That's ok," Dawn told her. "We have plenty. I went to Sam's and got one of those packs of 24."

Spike and Buffy were still trying to get to each other, so Angel set them down -- finally realizing the only safe thing to do was get out from between them. Spike immediately whapped Buffy, winced and cursed, then turned and ran. She ran after, yelling.

"It's been like that," Tara said with a shrug.

"Since they were regressed?" Wesley asked.

"Since Spike came back to Sunnydale, the last time."

There was a shout, and the adults all looked up the stairs. Dawn sighed. "I'd better go see what they're doing to each other." She turned and headed up, Tara following, to provide moral support and more leverage.

"Somebody want to fill me in? Because that was *not* just..." Angel faced the remaining adults, who pulled him towards the kitchen.

"Not in front of the c-h-i-l-d-r-e-n," Willow whispered.

"Um, they haven't forgotten how to spell, have they?" Cordelia asked, leaning against the table.

Willow blushed. "No. I just get in the habit of treating them like..."

"Kids," Angel finished. "They don't just look like kids, they're acting like kids. Sort of."

Willow nodded. "They don't seem to realize it. They think they're still acting normal-- well, normal for them-- and we're trying not to let them know otherwise until we're sure there's nothing really bad-wrong going on."

"But they're acting like children? More now, than before?" Cordelia asked, in a serious tone for the first time.

"Yeah. That's why we wanted someone else -- someone not four years old -- to translate the stuff on the statue they all touched. To see if we missed anything the first time."

Cordelia started to ask another question, when she stopped, and looked down. She smiled when she saw Xander standing there, looking up at her. His brown eyes were huge and unblinking, and Cordelia crouched down beside him.

"Hey, munchkin." Her tone held none of the laughter and teasing it had, before.

"Can I give you something?" he asked, seriously.

"Sure." Cordelia looked surprised. Her look of surprise increased when Xander leaned forward and planted a kiss on her cheek. It took her a moment before she could say, "Thank you. What was that for?"

"'Cause I like you." Then Xander walked over to Angel, not looking back to see the astounded expression on Cordelia's face.

Angel looked down at him, and the expression on his own face was one that only a few intimates-- which did include most of the people in the room-- had ever had the dubious pleasure of seeing: pure, unadulterated terror. Warring, of course, with attempted nonchalance. "Uh, hi," he said as Xander looked back up at him.

"Hi," came the earnest reply. "How come you're still wearing your coat? Aren't you hot?"

Angel sighed, and took off his coat. "Not really. I don't get hot as fast as humans do."

Xander nodded, as if that answered all the questions in the universe. But the torture couldn't possibly be over, could it? Of course not.

"Yeah, Spike's like that too." His eyes narrowed, like he'd just thought of something. "Spike gets cold at night. Do you get cold at night?"

"Um--"

"But not so much anymore, because we keep him warm. Does someone keep you warm?"

There were suppressed, and not so suppressed giggles throughout the room. Angel didn't try to answer.

"He's nice to sleep with, but he hogs the bed and kicks. Did he hog the bed when you made him? Did you spank him? I spank him and he likes it so he never stops hogging the bed even though I tell him he's a booger-head and sometimes I have to kick him back and did he ever kick you out of bed 'cause he did me once and said it was an accident and what's wrong with your head?"

Angel blinked. He started to touch his face, which was still in human guise, then aborted the movement as if telling himself he was *not* going to check his hair. He couldn't possibly have done anything to his hair.

Xander didn't seem to mind that so far, Angel hadn't replied. But then he asked, "Do you like me?"

"I...uh..." Angel looked helplessly at Cordelia, who put up two hands -- she wasn't touching it with a ten foot pole, and he could just help himself, thank you very much. It was probably revenge for his having vamped out on her most recent date, when he mistook an innocent kiss for a potential brainsucking. He looked back down at Xander, who seemed to have taken his hesitation as a negative sign. His lower lip was protruding slightly, and there was a glossy sheen in his eyes.

"Yeah," Angel said at last, bending down so he could look Xander in the eye. "Sure."

The lower lip stuck out even further. "You're just saying that 'cause you have to be nice to me or Buffy will kick your butt."

"That's not true," Angel said quickly.

"Is so, she'll kick your butt." Xander looked away. "Would you like me if I give Spike back?" There was the barest tremble in Xander's voice.

Angel crouched down, and put his hand on the four-year-old's shoulder. "Xander, I like you. And I'll like you even more if you keep Spike."

"Honest?" Xander peered up at him.

"Honest."

"For sure? Cross your heart and hope to get staked by a giant mold eating rabbit?"

Angel blinked again. "Um, yeah."

"Good, 'cause I'm not givin' him back, anyway. You didn't take good care of him." Xander frowned sternly at him, then smiled again. "You really like me?"

Angel nodded. Xander smiled a big, bright smile, and said, "Can I give you something too?"

Closing his eyes and hoping no one was aiming a camera their way, Angel said, "Sure," and bent his cheek to be kissed.

Xander blew a raspberry in his ear, and squirmed away, giggling hysterically.

Angel stood up, wiped his ear off on the sleeve of his sweater, and looked across at Wesley, who sat in a chair, a large reference book open on his lap. "I was an evil vampire for a hundred and fifty years. I guess I deserved that, right?"

"I'd say that was rather apparent." Wesley smiled, briefly, then returned to the book. Giles turned the TV off, and walked over. He looked over Wesley's arm at the book, leaning forward.

"I know that one." He pointed. "It means 'regale'."

"Er, yes, Rupert. It does." Wesley nodded, and continued reading. Giles leaned closer, tilting his head to try to read the book.

Then he pulled at Wesley's arm. Wesley let him have it, letting go of the book. Giles climbed up onto Wesley's lap and sat down, then pulled the book back onto their laps.

"I know what page to look on, you know," Giles told him. "It's page sixty-three." His voice dropped to a whisper. "It's got naughty pictures of naked nymphs on page eighty-two, though."

Wesley blinked at him for a moment, then smiled tentatively. "Perhaps we should start with page sixty-three, and work our way up?"

Giles nodded, then leaned his head over to whisper very closely in Wesley's ear. Angel wondered if he was about to regret his usually helpful preternatural vampire hearing.

"We can look at page ninety, as well, but don't let Spike and Xander see it. They're too young," Giles whispered earnestly.

"Ah." Wes managed not to react -- other than to give Willow a sharp look when she tried to sneak closer to peek at the pages. "Here we are," he said, turning the pages to sixty-three. He scanned the page, then nodded. "Yes, this is it. I do believe this will take a few minutes." He glanced up at everyone who was standing there, staring. "You needn't stand there and wait."

"We don't mind." Cordelia smiled innocently, then when Wesley looked down, brought her camera out from behind her back again and snapped two more photos.

"I wanna read, too!" Xander said petulantly, tugging on Angel's arm. Angel, who was trying to pretend he didn't notice and that Xander had somehow mistaken him for Willow, looked around for something to comment on that would give him a reasonable excuse to not reply. Xander tugged harder. "Read to me!" When Angel made the mistake of glancing down, he found Xander once again quivering his chin. "You don't like me. You lied!"

"I didn't lie, I just..." Angel reached one hand up to his hair -- just to make sure it was still there. "Fine. What do you want me to read?"

Xander grinned, and ran for the bookcase at the back of the living room -- the bottom shelf, where, Angel remembered from times long past, Dawn's old books were kept. When he came back and crawled up onto Angel's lap, he was grinning like a four-year-old lunatic. "This one!"

Angel examined it, expecting, perhaps, something from the Seusslike end of the literary swimming pool. INstead, he was presented with 'Johnny and the Big Squeaky Banana -- An I Can Read WIth One Hand Book.' He looked down at Xander.

"Spike put it in there. Been there for two years and nobody's noticed it yet."

"I don't think--"

"Read to me!" Xander pouted.

Angel looked at the book. He looked at Xander. He looked at the book. He looked at Willow.

He blinked as the flash went off.

He looked back at Xander, briefly, before focusing on the book. "I don't think I should read this to you. It looks more like a Anya book."

Xander looked up at him with a small frown. "No, it's Spike's book. Anya likes it too, though. How come you don't wanna read to me?"

"I said I would read to you. I just think you should pick another book." One that didn't have illustrations, preferably.

Or at least not pastel illustrations in the style of Richard Scarry, of Johnny and his..er.. banana.

Xander just kept pouting. "But I want *this* book."

"Why don't I read...um..." Angel tried to go over to the shelf and pick out something nice, normal, and unembarrassing. Or at least something he didn't mind Cordelia and Wesley overhearing him read aloud.

Xander grabbed onto his pantsleg. When Angel looked down, he found the young face crumbling. "Read me."

"Xander, I *said* I would--"

The sharp tone was a mistake. Xander's chin began to quiver, even as the shocked surprise spread out over the young boy's features. Angel wasn't terribly taken aback to hear an outraged voice behind him.

"What did you do to my Xander?" Spike came barreling off the stairs, towards Angel. Tiny fists pummeled...his shins. Angel stood there and watched, until Spike stopped hitting him and looked up. "What did you do to him, you bloody overgrown pillock?"

Angel sighed. Not an 'I am responsible for every horror ever brought upon the world and now I must make amends' sigh. Just a 'Why me, Lord,' sigh. He'd come a long way. "Spike, I didn't do anything to him. I offered to read him a story--"

"You didn't offer! I had to make you." Xander crossed his arms.

"All right, he asked, and I reluctantly agreed. I just think it might be better to read a different story."

Spike reached up an open hand for the book, and Angel, trying not to actually say the 'Why me, Lord' thing out loud, handed it to him. Spike looked at the cover; it was hard to tell if he was reading it, or not. He looked back up at Angel. Xander was watching Spike, hopefully. Still milliseconds away from pouting again.

"So, read to us," Spike demanded.

Angel sighed. This was more of a 'why can't I kill my own childe?' sigh. "If you'll pick a different book--" he began in a reasonable tone.

"No! I want this one!" Xander yelled.

Spike frowned at Angel. It was bordering dangerously on a pout.

"I am not reading this book to you," Angel said, sounding very determined.

"You are mean and nasty and you don't care about your own childe's education and moral upbringing, and you don't like my Xander, and I don't like you," Spike said softly. Dangerously, lower lip twitching. "And you have stupid hair," he added.

Unsure which accusation to answer first, or whether to ask Spike if he was seriously upset or just trying to annoy the hell out of his Sire for the sheer pleasure of... well, pleasure, Angel was left completely vulnerable to the renewed assault of Xander's pout. Pow! A chin- quiver to the left. Bam! A blink of big brown eyes to the right. Zowie! A tiny, whispery voice, and a very soft tug on his pantleg. "You *don't* like me?"

Angel looked at Xander, sighed, and looked up at Cordelia who was doing a masterful job of not giggling out loud. "Couldn't you have had a vision to warn me away from this? Why did you bring me, anyway?" Cordelia rolled her eyes, mouthed 'd'uh', and snapped another picture as soon as Angel looked down at a Xander who was very close to tears. "I did not say I didn't like you, I just don't think it's appropriate for me to read this to you. Either of you."

Xander's chin quivered harder. Spike scowled at Angel. Angel braced himself and thought about going outside where it was nice and sunny.

"He doesn't like us," Xander said quietly, to Spike.

"He's mean," Spike replied. "A big ole meanie!" His scowl was marred by an impending pout of his own.

He was *not* a big old meanie. Angelus was a big old meanie. Angel was Shari Lewis, compared to Angelus. And he was getting sorely tempted to point that out.

If he did, however, he' knew they'd start singing 'The Song That Doesn't End' and he just didn't want to put it into their heads.

"Look, what if I read you.. um... Cat in the Hat?" Everybody had that in their house, right? Well, everybody who wasn't a two hundred and fiftyish vampire with no living relatives to speak of, since he had no descendants and had eaten all the collateral lines.

"That's a baby book. We're not little kids!" said the one of the little kids who was closer in age to actually *being* one.

"Well, then what about Cryptonomicon?" Angel read the first title he saw, of the books on the top shelf. He wasn't sure who was reading that one, but it looked thick. A good, adult book.

Rather than the adult book they were *trying* to get him to read.

"I want Johnny and the Big Squeaky Banana!!!" Xander wailed, suddenly. Angel jumped, startled. He turned to Xander, crouching down and trying to get the boy's attention.

"Xander, Xander, calm down. I said I'd read to you."

Xander looked at him, sniffling. "Will you read anything I want?"

Angel hesitated.

Cordelia mouthed the word "Mis-take..." at him, then grinned cheerily.

"Well, I.. Xander, it's just..."

The little adam's apple bobbed as Xander swallowed hard, and nodded. "I see." He turned around and walked over towards the bookcase, as if he were going to pick out another book. Instead, though, he simply sat down in the corner next to it, and stared at his shoes.

At which point, Spike started kicking Angel.

Angel ignored Xander for a moment, turning to Spike and grabbing him by one arm. He didn't shake him, not quite, but he pushed Spike back and growled. "What are you doing?"

"You're being mean to Xander! I hate you!"

Angel growled again, louder than he'd intended, but Spike was really getting on his nerves. Again. Like always. And he was small enough that Angel felt he'd be justified in picking him up and shaking him until his brain fell out.

No. Evil. That would be wrong.

Spike kicked him again. "Meanie! Stupid git! Nancy-pancy! Um...dumbo!"

"Stop it," Angel said. "I'm not going to read *anything* if--"

"YOU SAID YOU'D READ TO US!" Spike yelled at the top of his lungs.

Xander shot out of the corner, now. "Now you're being mean to Spike? Again? You... big wiener! I hate you too!"

Angel wasn't sure who to kill first, but the woman with the camera and the thousand-dollar smile who wasn't lifting a finger to help was pretty high on the list.

"Cordelia..."

"Oh no. Think of this as your redemption."

"This is *not* my redemption. This is *Hell*. I'm back in Hell and no one bothered to tell me."

"And he's saying we're demons, too! Jerk!" Xander snatched the book from Spike and threw it -- very gently-- at the couch, before launching *himself* at the floor, where he proceeded to kick and punch at the carpet. "I. Want. To. Be. Read. To!"

"I'm not a... Xander's not a demon!" Spike shouted, and threw himself on the floor beside Xander. Kicking, hitting, screaming, the two raised a tantrum the likes of which Angel had never seen. It was eerie the way they seemed to yell in tandem, and never quite hit each *other*.

Angel looked up at Cordelia. She was looking at him like this was all his fault.

"What's going on?" Willow asked, and Angel sighed in relief. Until she looked at the squalling children, then frowned at him, and said, "Angel, for pete's sake, can't you keep them quiet for two minutes?"

Angel blinked. "What? *Me*? I didn't do this!"

"Angel, really. It's just Spike and Xander. It isn't like they're real four-year-olds."

"That's the problem," Angel muttered. Then, "Fine. Like you can do any better?" He was about to explain to her which book they'd wanted him to read.

Willow quirked a brow at him, then walked up to the two caterwauling boys. "Hey, guys..."

They paused mid-kick-and-hit, and looked up at her. "Yeah?" Spike said, politely.

"You want a story?" Blond and brown heads nodded. "Okay, then get up and go sit on the couch."

And of course, because Angel was in Hell, they did. Willow followed them over, helped settle them with pillows, and turned back to Angel. "There. Was that so hard?"

"Sure, but..." He shifted his shoulders. He was *not* going to be made to look a fool by two four-year-old demons and their grown-up sized witch-demon. If he was in Hell, he was going to bear it with dignity. "Fine. I'll read to them. Just give me a book."

"We gave you a book," Xander said with a deceptively innocent tone.

Willow turned to Angel, and he found himself wondering if Xander had taught the look to her, or vice versa. He was pretty sure Spike hadn't taught them both.

Angel held the book out to Willow, who took it. Her eyebrow went up as she read the cover. She opened it, saying, "This is a joke, right?"

Angel watched as she read the first page. Then the second. As she began the third, Spike yelled, "Hey! That's *our* book!"

"Angel, please, can you keep them quiet? I'm trying to work," Wesley interrupted whatever thoughts of escape Angel had begun entertaining.

"Yeah! Bad vampire," seconded Giles.

Angel held out his hand. Willow, her face an interesting shade of red, handed the book to him. As he opened it, she gestured for him to bend down so she could reach his ear. Fearing the worst --he didn't believe the real Willow would blow a raspberry in his ear, but this was the Angel's-personal-Hell version, after all -- he complied. "Read slow. In about five minutes, I'll call 'em in for cookies and milk," she whispered.

Trying to ignore his giggling childe and his giggling childe's giggling boyfriend, Angel settled on the couch next to them, wondering how long he could draw out the process of reading the title page. "I am *not* a bad vampire," he said to Giles as he was flipping the cover open.

"Yes, you are. Good vampires stay in Hell," Giles said primly.

Angel gaped at him for a moment. He watched as Wesley tried to shush the miniature Watcher, then when that proved unsuccessful, got him distracted with the book they were translating.

"No, that is *not* 'commodore'! Any first year knows that," Giles said haughtily.

"Ah, my mistake," Wesley said calmly, and Angel wondered if he could get Wes to trade places with him.

"Read," Spike reminded him, nudging Angel sharply with his elbow.

"Er, right. Um, 'Johnny and the Big, Squeaky Banana'," he began. He hoped to God that he wouldn't be expected to do different voices.

***********

Part Eight

With the 'children' gathered in the living room hopefully eating more pizza than they got on the floor or furniture, the adults, sans the designated babysitters, sat or stood around the back porch in the twilight.

"So?" Cordelia asked, peering in the kitchen window at whatever antics they were getting up to now. Wesley picked up the top book from the stack on his lap.

"It would appear that Rupert's initial translation was mostly correct. The Urdeku did, indeed, initiate a physical regression to the age of four."

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "D'uh! We knew that part."

"Was he right about the part where...we can make them themselves again?" Willow asked the question to which they had all been half-fearful of learning the answer.

"Yes," Wesley said quickly, a note of apology in his voice for not having said so sooner. "The spell will work, as described. Under the waning moon, exactly six days from now. They'll be returned to their proper ages, physically and mentally."

"Right, but what's with the mental?" Cordelia asked. "Or with them *going* mental. Whatever. Willow said they started out normal, so why are they acting like they're really kids, now?"

"Well, they're not *totally* acting like kids. They know who they are; they have all their memories, and they can still read, and talk normally. They know they're *not* kids. It's..." Willow looked at Wesley. "It's kind of cool, but kind of creepy, too."

"Yes, it is a bit...disconcerting." Wesley paused, thinking about how easily Giles had made himself comfortable in Wesley's lap. It had been...nice. But definitely creepy. "But it is all a part of the regression. Their physical bodies affect their behaviour -- their hormones, their neural chemistry, have all reverted to that of four-year-olds. In short, they have all their memories, but their emotions and ability to...to deal with their memories, are that of children."

"Will it get worse?" Dawn asked.

"No, not worse, as such. They'll merely continue to act like children. I suppose they might find it confusing, to have twenty or more years of memories, and yet be for all other intents, a child. But it will only be a few days."

He glanced through the window, catching a glimpse of Spike, shrieking with laughter and throwing something at Angel. They'd left Tara and Angel inside

to watch the children -- Tara because she could control them, and Angel because Spike and Xander had pouted when the elder vampire had tried to go outside without them.

"They really seem to get a kick out of Angel being here," Dawn said, taking in the same scene from her perch on the porch rail. "Even Giles seems to like teasing him."

Wesley suppressed a smirk. Or, rather, tried to suppress it. A bit. "Yes, well, it's not only four-year-olds who enjoy that, is it Cordelia?"

She put a hand on her hip. "Oh, because *I'm* the one who taped a blow-up picture of him to the bathroom mirror while he was napping, then videotaped him freaking out?"

"Actually, Gunn hung the photo. I just ran the camcorder."

"And whose idea was it?" Cordelia countered, while Willow started giggling. Wesley chose to ignore Cordelia, and turned his attention back to Willow.

"It will only be six days, but I know how much work taking care of children can be. If you'd like, we could leave one of us here...." He trailed off, glancing towards the kitchen again.

The two women looked, as well. "They *do* really enjoy having him here," Willow said in a tone that implied she wasn't planning something Truly Evil.

"Boys need a male role model," Cordelia added. "Even boys like Spike and Xander."

"Right. Who wants to tell him?"

The chorus of 'me' was almost deafening. In the end, they chose Dawn, because she pouted the best, though Cordelia was a close second.

"You sure you don't want to stay too, Wesley?" Cordelia asked him evilly. "Gunn and I can run the place just fine for a few days..."

He didn't even spare her a glance, but smiled when Willow seconded the offer. "No, thank you. Charming as the children are, I really think I'd like to go home and sleep with someone my own height tonight."

"Sleep?" Cordelia snorted.

"Yes, sleep," he answered. "Eventually." At Dawn's amused look, he coughed. "After we fill him in on what's going on, of course."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "I'm not a kid, you know. I know you two are together." She paused, while Wesley tried to decide if he could avoid swallowing his tongue in shock. "Spike showed me pictures."

"Dawn Susanna Summers! He did not!" Willow yelled. Dawn just gave her a look, and Willow looked towards the kitchen window.

"Yes, well, we'd best be going," Wesley managed to sound as if she hadn't said anything of the sort. "Let's tell Angel, and be on our way."

"I wanna stop at the Harry's on 5th, before we leave town," Cordelia said casually. Wesley gave her a dirty look.

"Shall I just drop you there, and pick you up in a week?" he asked, not really hopefully.

She narrowed her eyes at him, and pulled the back door open. "Hmm. I think I need some new shoes, too. I bet La Vida is still open."

Wesley admitted defeat, and ushered the three women into the house. His only consolation was Willow whispering to him as she passed him, "Actually, Harry's burnt down last week. Salamander attack. We're fairly sure Spike and Xander had nothing to do with it."

"Oh, Angel..." Dawn was saying.

Wesley was only partly buoyed by Willow's remark. But he distracted himself by watching Angel's reaction to finding out what duty he'd been volunteered for.

All four kids starting yelling "yea!" as soon as the words were out of Dawn's mouth. Angel looked like he'd rather be pressed into service at Wolfram and Hart as Lilah's secretary.

"I, uh, would love to, if I had time," he began. Xander stopped cheering immediately, and began pouting.

Cordelia grinned. "Think of all the evil karma you'll work off," she said quietly. "Six days with four four-year-olds? You'll be human this time next week."

Angel looked at them, and Wesley could almost swear that he was human already. "You know, that would be peachy, if I weren't already in Hell. I don't think they let you work off evil karma here."

"Don't say Hell in front of us," Spike said.

"Yeah, you'll corrupt our innocent brains, if you say Hell," Xander agreed.

"Say heck," Buffy prompted Angel.

The vampire looked pleadingly at Wesley and Cordelia, who weren't about to offer him any support. "Fine. I'm in Heck."

Wesley couldn't speak for a moment, because it would have been rude to laugh at Angel. Rude to laugh in front of the children, at least.

Cordelia didn't seem to be having the same difficulty.

"So, we'll come back and get you six days hence?" Wesley said, taking a step towards the door. Perhaps if he just *left*, Cordelia would let them leave Sunnydale and get home. In fact, if he reached the car first, he could drive, and ensure it.

Angel gave them a pleading look. Spike and Buffy had grabbed his hands, and were swinging on them. "Angel's staying! Angel's staying!"

"Er, no, I--" Angel started.

At which point Xander screamed, "You *don't* like me! You don't wanna stay with me, you hate me...."

Every adult in the room glared at Angel. Giles and Spike glared too. Buffy stuck her tongue out at Xander. "Angel likes me and he doesn't like you!" she sang.

"Oi! You don't be mean to my Xan. Only *I* can be mean to him." Spike pulled her hair, then rubbed his own head. "Ow! Not fair, not fair."

Xander was still wailing, and it looked like there were actual tears in his eyes. Was he that good an actor, Wesley wondered, or had they really already reached the point where their emotions were that out of control? "Nobody wants to stay with me! Everybody leaves me alone!" He ran from the room, and Spike shot a glare at Angel that was nastier than anything Wesley had ever seen on the adult Spike's face, before running after him.

"Come on, Xander, you know he's just a big ugly wally. Nobody's leaving you anywhere," Wesley could hear Spike saying to a sniffling Xander, who was sitting under the dining room table.

Everyone else was still glaring at Angel, except for Willow, who was alternating her glares between Angel and Buffy.

Angel sighed, and walked toward the table. He paused beside the table, then knelt down and crawled under it. Wesley moved to one side, where he could get a better look.

They could hear Spike saying sharply, "Go away! You're a mean Sire."

"Spike...Xander, I'm sorry. I'm not going anywhere. I do like you, and I'm not going to leave."

There was silence, and Wesley imagined the dark, thunderous look on Xander's face. Coupled with the tears and the pouting, and Wesley figured in about five more minutes, Angel would be reading 'Johnny' again.

"You're lying," Xander said. "You're just being nice because Cordy made you."

"No, that's not true. I'm a grownup. Cordy can't make me do anything I don't want to do--" There was a pause, while Cordelia laughed silently. "--and I want to stay. Really."

Xander's voice was very small, even for a child, as he echoed suspiciously, "Really?"

"Really."

"Enough to read us another story?"

Angel sighed, and Wesley motioned to Cordelia. "I think we should run while he's trapped under the table, myself."

"You don't want to hear the rest?" she asked, looking torn.

"If you want to watch, stay all week."

For a moment it looked as though Cordelia was going to take him up on it. Then she turned to Willow, and said something too quietly for Wesley to hear.

He did, however, hear Xander demanding, "Do you *really like me? Because grown-ups don't like me, except Willow does and her girlfriend and Dawn."

Angel's voice sounded quite sincere when he replied, "Of course I do. You're my favourite childe's friend, that makes you like a favorite childe of mine, too."

Wesley looked over to see Cordelia smiling. She mouthed 'Let's go,' and they began to tip- toe away.

"Where are you going?" Buffy wailed. "Don't we get hugs?"

Xander and Spike scrambled out from under the table. "You're gonna leave without hugs? Don't you like us?"

"Yeah, Wesley, don't you like them?" Angel echoed.

Wesley, before being engulfed in a squirming tangle of four-year-old arms, was pleased to note that Angel bumped his head on the table while trying to crawl out. "We simply didn't want to interrupt," Wesley managed, as he tried to return the hugs as enthusiastically as they were given.

Cordelia gave Xander a hug, then ruffled his hair. "What's this about grown-ups not liking you? *I* like you, and Wesley likes you. Aren't we grown-ups?"

Xander just grinned up at her, then Wesley saw him wink.

Wesley stifled a laugh. It appeared as though Angel would be in good hands.

*****

Angel held the can in his hand, and displayed it to Willow. "What exactly is this? And why does Spike think I'm supposed to do something with it?"

She just looked at him. "I know *you* can read, Angel. It's Mr. Bubbly-O Blue Bath Foam."

She *had* to be kidding. "You *have* to be kidding."

"No, it says right there on the label, Mr. Bubbly-O--" Willow pointed, a trace of mischief on her face.

"I am *not* going to..." he trailed off as Spike and Xander came running into the living room in just their superhero underwear.

"BATHTIME!" the two of them screamed happily.

Willow gave Angel a somewhat apologetic smile. "Sorry. They really can't...do it unsupervised. Dawn deals with Buffy, and Giles...manages to not destroy the bathroom. But these two would drown themselves and remove the tiling." Her face turned a little pink. "And there's really no one better to do it."

Angel looked at the can, looked at Xander, looked at Spike, then felt his world sway. Maybe he had been poisoned? He was dreaming all this. Hallucinating, and when he woke up his friends would be gathered around him saying they were so worried....

"And I have to...actually go into the bathroom with them?"

"Unless you've developed telekinesis in the last few years," she answered firmly.

"Um...maybe I could start trying right now?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Okay, I'll give you a pencil to practice on, while you're giving Spike and Xander their bath. Just don't accidentally dust yourself or Spike."

"He can levitate my Willie-the Whale," Xander offered. To Angel, he confided, "He spits water out his blowhole."

Angel shot a panic-stricken glance at Willow, who shook her head sadly. "It's a bath-toy, Angel. Go. I promise you'll still be dead when you come out."

Somehow he found himself actually walking *towards* the bathroom. Spike and Xander ran ahead of him, shouting out "I get the green towel!" and "Mine's the red!" As if anyone was going to make them use the wrong towel.

Angel was relieved to note that someone had already started the bath to running, so at least he didn't have to try to figure *that* out. What temperature was right for a human *and* a vampire? He saw that the tub was almost a third full, and he went over to turn the faucets off.

When he turned around, Spike and Xander were naked, and hitting each other with their underwear.

"Stop that, now!" he ordered. They both looked innocently at him.

"What?" Xander asked. "This?" He smacked Spike over the head with his shorts.

"No, I think he means the being naked," Spike said. "Sorry. Can't. We came this way."

"You don't have to enjoy it quite so much," Angel muttered. Then he motioned for them to get into the tub. They both grinned and shook their heads.

"Not tall enough," Xander informed him. "You have to pick us up."

Angel sighed, and bent over to pick Spike up. Spike shook his head. "Can't put us in, yet. It's not bubbly yet."

Angel restrained the urge to strangle his 'favourite childe'. He looked at the can of foam, and looked at the two boys. Well, honestly, there was no reason *not* to.

He shook the can slightly, then squirted Spike. As Spike squealed -- which made Angel pause, ever so slightly, then wish he had a tape recorder because William the Bloody would *never* admit to squealing -- he squirted Xander. Who also squealed.

When they were well covered in blue foam, Angel set the can on the counter, then grabbed Spike and put him in the tub. And heard the snick of someone about to press the nozzle of the can of foam....

Vampiric reflexes allowed him to turn and grab the can before more than his arm could get sprayed.

He grabbed Xander with the already-bubbly arm and deposited the giggling child at the other end of the tub. After a small amount of splashing at each other, they both looked up at him expectantly.

This would be the point where, in any just and righteous universe, he woke up, and told Cordy, Wes, and Gunn that he'd had a dream, and 'you were in it, and so were you...' Instead, there were just two pair of huge, positively evil eyes fixed on him, and he didn't even have any ruby slippers to click together.

"Oh come on, I *know* you can bathe yourselves."

Two heads solemnly shook. "Uh-uh," Xander said. "We're too little."

"We miss spots," Spike added.

Angel glared at them. It was, if he had to say so himself, one of his best, Angelus, I am going to burn down Europe, glares. "You are not too little."

Two heads solemnly shook back and forth. "We can't. Willow said so, and if you don't believe us ask her! We're little and we need help and you have to help us so you have to get the soap on the washcloth and wash us or we'll be dirty *forever* and Willow will hate you."

Angel watched, and wondered how Xander had managed that all in one breath.

"I don't think Willow will hate me, somehow. But maybe I should ask her, just to make sure," Angel said, stepping towards the door. "I mean, I wouldn't want her to be mad at me or anything..."

Spike and Xander just looked at him. Daring him to go out that door and let Willow know he had absolutely no idea whether a four-year-old could wash himself or not. Finally he turned around. Took a deep breath, and remembered why humans did that. It gave you time to formulate a plan of attack.

He looked sternly at both cherubic faces. Prepared, at last, to deal with anything they might throw at him.

Spike had bubbles in his hair.

"If you'll wash yourselves, I'll read you the squeaky banana story again," Angel said, and closed his eyes in shame.

"I don't want that book," Xander said, disdainfully.

Angel opened his eyes. Xander was looking at him with a very serious expression. Angel hated himself for doing what he was about to do. "Which book *do* you want?"

"Monkey Junkie and Squarely Harry," Xander replied. Angel had no idea what he was talking about, but he knew it couldn't be good.

"I suppose that's something else that's not fit to read in front of Dawn?" he asked, mostly rhetorically. Neither Spike nor Xander was making any move towards actual washing. They just sat there looking annoyingly cute. Waiting. For something. Something else to terrorize him with, to pop into their evil little heads?

Angel crossed his arms. Xander crossed his arms. Spike crossed his arms.

"What now?" Angel asked.

"What now?" Spike asked.

"What now?" Xander asked.

"What do you mean--" Angel began.

"What do you mean--" Spike echoed.

"Oh, come on," Angel said, and Xander repeated a split second afterward.

Of course, Angel *knew* what they were doing. Trying -- and succeeding -- in annoying him. The question was, did he threaten them with the violence that he really, truly, honestly wanted to use and hope that Willow understood? He suspected she would, since she'd already been taking care of these brats...er, unfortunate be-spelled friends.

Or did he annoy them back?

He moved over to the counter and leaned against it, and looked at the two spawns of-- er, no, he didn't want to go there. And waited. Patiently.

He'd show them hours of brooding had its advantages.

The mini-brats waited. And waited. And waited. For all of thirty seconds or so, before Xander looked at Spike and grinned. "He thinks we're gonna stop."

"He thinks we're gonna stop," Spike parrotted.

It went on from there. Angel merely waited, until at last the echoing contest ground to a halt. Two unhappy faces looked up at him. He raised an eyebrow, and made a completely- acceptable-in-primetime hand gesture. As in, "What," without actually saying it.

Spike's lower lip went into overquiver. "We're out of bubbles."

"Yeah?" Angel said, as if he hadn't been able to see it for himself. He reached over and picked up the can. Held it out to Spike.

Spike reached for it, frowning. Angel could see the confusion on both their faces and felt not an ounce of pity for them. Let them wonder what he was up to. It'd keep them distracted.

For at least two minutes. Then Spike apparently decided that Angel or no Angel, foam was too much fun. He squirted Xander, who squealed, and tried to wrestle the can out of his hands. At which point Angel discovered *why* these two had to be chaperoned. Although why they didn't just take their baths separately.... Angel moved forward in time to prevent Xander from cracking his head on the tub rim, when he slipped.

Then he growled at Spike, when a small hand wiped foam all over Angel's head.

Spike growled right back at him, and he tried desperately not to associate the words 'adorable' and 'Spike' in his head, but he was fighting a losing battle. Perhaps if he just held Spike's head under the water for a while? The resulting struggles would undoubtedly distract him from thinking soppy thoughts about his sopping childe.

"Go ahead," Xander encouraged him. "I do it all the time. Not like he needs to breathe or anything."

Angel hadn't realized his hand was actually on Spike's skull until he looked down. Sighing, he removed it, and stared as sternly as possibly at the two of them. "Sit. No drowning, no splashing, no chin-ups on the handrail."

Spike and Xander looked at each other, then looked at the handrail.

; Part Nine

"That's it. Bath's over." Angel stood, picking up each boy by the arm, dangling them as he lifted them out of the tub. Ignored their howls of protest and but we aren't clean and there's still foam left and I didn't bring my pajamas in with me. Who cared if they were dirty for a few days? Six days from now they could wash themselves, or each other, and Angel could go *home* and not know a thing about it.

Their protests grew louder as Angel grabbed each towel and flung it over and around each boy, and began alternating between them, rubbing hard and fast to dry them off -- or as close as he cared to get before he lost all shred of his soul.

Finally the two of them stood before him, pouts firmly in place, mostly dry. Okay, their hair stuck out at odd angles. Then again, thanks to Spike's impromptu salon bubble stylings, so did Angel's.

"I'm cold," Spike complained.

"Yeah, me too." Xander gave a good impression of a shiver, and pulled his towel tighter around him.

Angel shrugged. "Then go upstairs and put your pajamas on." He opened the bathroom door and gestured towards outside and away from me before I do things I won't regret in the morning.

"Okay!" The two boys raced off at high speed-- leaving, of course, two large, damp towels on the bathroom floor.

Willow's voice echoed in from the kitchen as Angel stared into the empty mirror, thankful he couldn't see the expression on his own face. "Spike, Xander? What's--- Angel, they're naked!"

"I noticed," he said, gritting his teeth.

"You didn't get them into their pajamas?" Willow had that tone in her voice like she'd discovered he'd given up drinking blood, in favour of kool-aid. Angel resisted the urge to bang his head on the doorframe.

"Be glad they're still moving," he said, even as he started down the hallway. It occurred to him that they *would* fall asleep, eventually. Dawn had said they fell asleep early - seven? Seven-thirty? He could last that long.

Right?

Willow whapped him lightly on the arm, and smiled. "Angel, go help them into their pajamas."

He stared at her. "Do I *have* to?" he whined. Oh God, he sounded just like Spike. Angel clapped his hand over his own mouth, but it was too late. Oh well. He wondered idly if it would completely ruin his image if he added an 'I'll be good, I promise' to it.

She grin-frowned at him. "They're not *that* bad."

Would it be wrong of him to direct a not-ready-for-primetime gesture in Willow's direction? Yes. Yes, it would. Angel walked past her and headed down the hall, muttering things in Gaelic that his mother would have been deeply ashamed of him for knowing, let alone speaking out loud.

He knew Spike and Xander hadn't gone to the bedroom to get their pajamas. He could hear them, now, downstairs in the living room, chasing each other around and screaming. Tara was down there, as well, but he couldn't hear that she was trying to get them under control.

Probably waiting for Angel. He sighed. Couldn't he just go kill monsters to earn his redemption?

He found the pajamas on the bed, and picked them up, then headed for the stairs. He amused himself thinking about just *how* he was going to catch them, and get them dressed.

"Oh, boys," he called as he walked into the living room, pajamas in hand. He took great pride in the fact that he didn't sound remotely maniacal. At least not to his own ears, though he might have been biased, of course.

Tara sat on the couch. In the lotus position, palms upward on her knees. When Angel stood in front of her, she opened her eyes and smiled. "It's really relaxing. You should try it."

He blinked at her. "Does it stop you from wanting to kill them?"

"No, but it takes you so long to get your feet untangled that they've gotten out of range by the time you can stand up."

"Ah. Sounds like a plan." He looked towards the kitchen, where Spike and Xander were hiding. As if he couldn't hear, smell, and feel exactly where they were anyhow.

As he stepped into the kitchen he heard a stifled giggle, and Spike's "Shh!" They were under the table, again. Not exactly a clever hiding place...but there they were.

A thought occured to him, and Angel pulled a chair out and sat down, putting the pajamas on the table. He looked around. "Huh." Another stifled giggle, and he could hear them shifting, a bit. Not ready to bolt, it didn't sound like. "I wonder where they could be. Can't be in the basement, the door's locked. Can't have hot wired the car and taken off for Baja; not tall enough to see over the dash."

"Am too," piped a small British voice.

"Shut up, dummy," Xander said. There was the sound of a smack.

"Ow! I'm tellin' Anya you abuse me when she's gone!"

"Anya *told* me to abuse you while she was gone. *Somebody* has to."

Angel ducked down and looked under the table, a carefully formulated expression of surprise on his face. Xander and Spike looked back, disappointed surprise on their faces.

Angel asked, "Have you two seen a couple of freshly foamed naked boys?" It occurred to him that that line might come in useful in other situations. Spike blinked at him, and Xander just shook his head. "You two wanna stand in for 'em? I'm supposed to be reading someone a bedtime story."

They started crawling forward, even as Spike asked suspiciously, "Which book?"

"I'm not sure yet. I don't think I can decide until I get rid of these pajamas here. They're too distracting." They really were. Tiger-stripes? What had Willow been thinking?

"Oh, we can help with that," Xander said proudly. Angel, though, was thinking on his feet, and stopped him before he could snatch the garments away and throw them in the wastebasket.

"I thought you were cold?" he asked as Xander reluctantly held up his arms and allowed Angel to drop the pajama shirt over his head. Xander's, unlike Spike's black-and-orange atrocities, were a fairly basic white, covered with red fire engines.

"You really are gullible, aren't you?" Spike said scornfully. His sardonic tone might have been a bit more impressive if he hadn't said it while swinging the tiger tail that someone had thoughtfully sewed to the back of his pajama pants.

"If you aren't cold, then you don't have to come upstairs and get under the covers with Xander and me," Angel said as he stood up and took Xander's hand. Xander stuck his tongue out at Spike, who looked rather put out.

Angel headed out of the kitchen, Xander skipping happily at his side. Two seconds later Spike was holding onto Angel's other hand and very deliberately not looking up at him.

"Aren't you gonna pick out a book," Xander asked as they passed through the living room and headed for the stairs.

"I noticed some books on the table in Buffy's room. One of them had a bookmark in it-- I thought we'd go for that one," Angel said as he started climbing. Hoping beyond hope that it was something he could read to them without rediscovering the ability to blush.

"Oh, *that* book," Spike said meaningfully.

Xander peered around Angel at his partner-in-crime. "Which book?"

Spike tugged Xander up the stairs ahead of Angel. "*That* book, stupid. You know." He put more insinuation into the simple word 'that' than Angel had heard on any phone-sex line that he'd never, ever called, ever.

Angel honestly didn't care if he ended up reading purple prose aloud to the diminutive delinquents. They were behaving, for the moment, and while he read they'd be more or less quiet. It would be worth it.

He followed them up the stairs to the bedroom, collecting a look of approval from Willow along the way. Angel wondered if she knew, or would care if she did, what he'd be reading to them.

At least Cordelia and Wesley were gone. He didn't mind so much Spike and Xander knowing what he was doing. But hearing about it from his co-workers...for the next four decades....

Which reminded him to find those cameras and expose the film.

They entered the bedroom to find it already occupied -- by Giles. Angel

blinked. Well, at least it wasn't Buffy. Reading Spike's taste in bedtime stories to *her* would have been... just disturbing.

She was safely out on the back porch with Dawn, though, talking about whatever TV show the kids had been watching before dinner. The familiar voice in its unfamiliar key rose and fell outside, and though he couldn't quite make out what she was saying, the sound was strangely comforting.

"Shove off, Rupert" Spike commanded. " *My* Sire's gonna read me and Xan a bedtime story." Xander tugged on his arm and whispered in his ear, and Spike growled and rolled his eyes. "Oh, fine. I guess he can listen too," he grumbled. He pointed to the chair. "But only from over there. There's not enough room for all four of us in one bed."

Giles looked startled for a moment, then, very slowly, he began to move over towards the indicated chair. The look on his face made Angel think that Spike had absolutely nothing when it came to grand champion pouting.

Giles' expression was one of total whipped puppy, without a shred of evidence that it was done for effect. It really, honestly looked like Giles really meant the 'that's all right, I needn't be coddled, I'll just wait over here in the cold while you enjoy yourselves'. Maybe it was a parental thing.

Angel stopped him with a hand to his shoulder, and turned him around. "There's room," he said, even while he asked himself just what the hell he was doing. Maybe he was doing it to annoy Spike and Xander. Yeah, that sounded good. Hmm. It really was kind of a small bed. "How about if you guys get under the covers, and I sit in the chair?" he suggested.

Spike shot Giles a dirty look. "No, no, no, no, no, no...."

Xander picked up the chant, and for a moment even Giles looked like he was considering joining in. Angel gave his dignity up for lost, finally, and waved his hands. "Fine. We'll figure something out." He pulled back the covers and sat in the center, leaning against the headboard while he tried to come up with a logical way in which they would all fit.

How helpful of them to solve his problem by swarming over him like ants at a particularly appetizing picnic.

"Here! Read this one. It's brilliant!" Spike shoved the book so close to Angel's nose that he could hardly focus on the title, while Xander and Giles buried themselves with pulling the covers up and around them in a manner that would make ancient Egyptian funeral directors proud.

Angel didn't move to take the book from Spike, for a moment, trying to adjust to the fact that Spike was in his lap, and that Xander and Giles were half-draped over him, like he was Santa Claus or something.

Spike was pressing the book closer to his nose, now, so Angel reached up and took the book, holding it with one hand while his other arm lifted itself up and wrapped around Xander. He blinked at it. What the heck did it do that for? And why was he raising his other arm so Giles could fit inside it?

He looked down, and found three small faces looking up at him, expectantly. God, they were almost...cute.

Hansel and Gretel were cute, too, he reminded himself. And hadn't they actually been some kind of angst-demon, in disguise? Preying on people with no cuteness-resistence?

Spike popped his thumb into his mouth.

I hate you, Angel thought, and opened the book.

**************

"Yes, you do!"

"No, I don't!"

"Yes, you do!" Giles shouted again.

"Do not!" Buffy shouted back, and Tara had to admit that the Slayer, even at this size, had her Watcher out-matched.

Giles glared at Buffy, and Tara began to revise her judgment. "Do so," he said with a veneer of calm. "I am your Watcher, and you--"

"You're too short to watch *anything*!" Buffy retorted.

"I'm tall enough to watch you clean up your room," Giles argued.

Buffy tossed her hair back over her shoulder. "I cleaned up *my* stuff. I'm just not cleaning up *yours*. And Pointy-face's and Puppy-head's."

"It's not nice to call people names," Giles said with a sober and somewhat priggish tone.

Buffy blinked. "What names? That's what Xander and Spike said I should call them."

It was true. They were running around the basement with towels tied around their necks like capes, at the moment, acting out the adventures of Pointy-face and Puppy-head, defending the city of Sunnydale from the Giant Mousse Monster. Poor Angel.

"You shouldn't do everything Spike and Xander tell you to do," Giles began, and Tara refrained from shaking her head. Normally Giles was quite brilliant with his logic and persuasion. Even as a four-year old, he'd been pretty smart -- master-minding the midnight forays into the kitchen which included pizza delivery and milkshakes. Tara still wasn't sure how they'd run the blender without waking anyone up. But in two more days it wouldn't matter -- which was why she just stood there, and watched, instead of intervening.

"Fine. Then I'll start now by not doing anything *you* tell me to do." Buffy folded her arms and gave Giles a determined look.

"Fine," Giles replied. "Don't clean up your room, then."

Buffy beamed and nodded, then frowned, and shook her head. Then looked at Giles. Then at her room. Then at Tara.

"He's being mean to me," she accused, pointing at Giles, who gave Tara the most innocent face she'd seen since...this morning, when Spike had sworn up and down that he hadn't been about to pour maple syrup on Angel's head when she walked into the kitchen.

Or maybe it was thirty seconds later, when Angel stood up and almost tripped over his tied- together shoelaces, and a cherubic-looking Giles had crawled out from underneath the table.

"I simply pointed out that since she has Slayer strength and the rest of us don't, she obviously ought to clean up all the toys and books and things herself. It's part of her duty to the world, as the Chosen One. I can get out the Watcher's diary that says so, if you like."

"It does not!" Buffy gave him a scornful look. "I'm a vampire slayer, not a vampire's maid! He's the one who made this mess, him and Puppy-head and you!"

Giles looked affronted, and Tara had to hold back a laugh. "I most certainly did *not* make this mess."

"Did."

"Did not."

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too times ten!"

"Did not times aleph null. Beat that, blond-for-brains."

Tara swallowed her smile, and decided it was time to interfere. "Um, why don't you just do it together? Buffy can show you where everything goes, and you can help her put it all away."

Buffy looked suspiciously at Giles when he followed her into the bedroom, and Tara, having become used to both their levels of resourcefulness, hung around in the doorway to make sure neither of them tried escaping out the window.

"You guys made a big mess out of *my* room," Buffy complained again, as she crossed her arms and surveyed the wasteland that had once been a fairly clean floor, in Tara's deepest, dimmest memories. A.K.A. yesterday morning.

She picked up a Candyland box from the floor at the foot of her bed, and handed it to Giles. "That goes in the bookcase. In Dawn's room."

Giles shrugged. "*I* didn't get it out. Angel wanted to play."

Tara suppressed a laugh as she tried to imagine just how much Angel had *wanted* to play. Then she noticed something. "Ah, guys, you might want to pick up the pieces that go *in* the box, too?"

"Yeah," Buffy said smugly, as Giles started to set the box down again. He stopped, and glared at her. "You put them away."

"No! *You* put them away!"

Tara stepped forward. "I think you should both put them back in the box." She held her stare as the two children looked at her, then at each other. She waited as they began digging out the pieces to the game, then as Giles dug one piece out from under the bed, she said very casually, "Oh, good, you're being very thorough, Rupert."

Buffy paused, then began looking under the bed, as well. Then she looked underneath everything nearby, for the rest of the pieces. "Found one!" she finally exclaimed, holding up one of the dice.

"Good work, Buffy." Tara smiled encouragingly.

Giles narrowed his eyes. "You like her more than me," he accused, even as he pulled a color- card out from under one of Spike's interesting bedtime-story books and tossed it into the open box.

"No, I don't," she said, and before Buffy could make the obvious rejoinder, Tara quickly added, "I like you both the same."

"But I'm the Chosen One," Buffy said, picking the other die out of one of Spike's shoes, and holding her nose with her other hand. "And eew. Stinky vampire feet."

"Yes, the Chosen One," Giles agreed. "Able to sense stinky vampire feet when she sticks her nose right in their stinky shoes."

Buffy responded by throwing said shoe at Giles, who ducked. Tara moved forward immediately, and grabbed Buffy's arm. "If you do that again, Rupert and I will go downstairs and we'll let you clean up your room by yourself."

Buffy glared at her. "It was just a stupid shoe."

"Yes, but you're a lot stronger than he is and you might have hurt him." Giles, who had been looking angry, suddenly looked vulnerable and in need of comforting. Tara ignored him.

Buffy stuck her lower lip out. "You can't make me clean my room. I didn't make the mess and you're not my mom!"

Tara pulled her over to the bed and sat down, looking at her. "Okay, all of those are pretty much true. I mean, I can pick you up and hold you upside down, but I'm not really strong enough to *make* you clean your room. And you didn't make the mess-- at least most of it. But you know Spike and Xander can't sit still long enough to do more than put their clothes on each morning."

"That's not my fault. I didn't make them boys," Buffy said unhappily.

"It doesn't have anything to do with them being boys," Tara corrected her. "They just have way too much energy. or something. The point is, you *can* help clean up, Buffy."

"I have as much energy as *they* do," Buffy said, still pouting. Tara didn't want to tell her that it wasn't as good as Spike's pout.

"But you can control yourself," Tara said. "Which makes you a lot...um..more grown-up." She wasn't sure this was going to work, judging by the way Buffy was still kicking at the bed and frowning.

"I don't *wanna* control myself." Buffy looked up at her. "But I have to; I always have to because if I don't I might hurt people. Even with a stupid shoe."

"You don't have to with Spike," Giles spoke up, surprising Tara just a little.

Buffy nodded, reluctantly, but Tara could see she wasn't mollified. Tara reached over and gave her a hug. "Tell you what. Why don't we make Angel and Willow get the boys to clean up their mess, and you, me, and Giles can go to the park? Just you two, for being so good?"

She carefully neglected to mention that it was three in the afternoon, neither Spike nor Angel could go to the park, and Xander wouldn't go without Spike. Or possibly he just didn't want to allow Spike to monopolize the Angel-tormenting time. Tara didn't know, and she didn't particularly care, as long as the older vampire's presence kept the two whirlwind children under some sort of control.

Buffy nodded eagerly, her unhappiness apparently short-lived.

Giles looked up with interest. "Oh, good. You can do some training exercises, Buffy."

"You can't make me," she said disdainfully.

"Maybe we can just play," Tara said quickly, cutting off Giles in mid-retort. "You can do training exercises in a couple days, when you're back to normal."

Buffy stuck her tongue out at Giles. Then she looked at Tara. "Why does he get to come? He's a boy, too."

"Because he isn't as rambunctious as Spike and Xander," she began. Then, leaning forward conspiratorially, she added, "And I'm afraid of what he, Spike, and Xander would do to the house if we leave them all here."

That made Buffy giggle, even if Giles looked offended. For a moment, then he apparently realized he was getting out of room-cleaning, as well.

"May we stop for ice cream on the way back?" he asked politely. Buffy grinned.

"Yeah, may we?"

"Mais, oui," Tara answered, and Giles smiled back at her.

"Well? Can we?" Buffy asked, bouncing up and down slightly.

"She already said yes, blond-for-brains," the mini-Watcher informed her.

Buffy pursed her lips. "I think it's mean to talk French when some people don't remember how to speak it cause they're only four," she complained bitterly.

"What was your excuse the week before last"" Giles wanted to know as they all descended the stairs.

"I can't remember. I'm only four."

"You've been only four your entire life, then," Giles said, followed quickly by "Ow! Watch it, you're not supposed to do that."

"I pulled my punch! Whiney-baby."

Tara stopped and looked at them. "If you're going to fight, we aren't going." She got two innocent faces looking back at her.

They were the 'we would never do such a thing as fight' looks, and she knew that as soon as she turned back around, tongue would be out and they'd be hitting each other, only keeping quiet about it.

And to think that Buffy and Giles were the *good* kids.

***********

Angel sat on the back porch. Alone. He was still trying to comprehend exactly how that state of affairs had come into being. Alone. Isolated. Bereft. Desolate. Forsaken. Abandoned. Forlorn. Without Xander and Spike.

Hot damn.

He could stand up and get in his car and... Well, no, because Wesley and Cordelia had taken his car back to L.A. Well, fine. He could stand up and walk... to where, in Sunnydale? The all-night blood bank? He could go scare the hell out of Willy the Snitch, he supposed. Pretend he was Angelus again...

Except that Spike said Willy had redecorated since Angel had last been in town. He could barely handle the ferns and the crushed-velvet wall-hangings that had accompanied Willy's previous attempt to go upscale. This time... he drew the line at line dancing. So to speak. No. Shudder.

Maybe he would just sit here, and be alone. Not do anything. Not read embarrassing books or play silly games or growl in order to make his childe and his going-to-have-to-adopt-him child giggle.

Angel sighed.

"Whacha sighing about?"

Angel turned his head, and found Buffy standing behind him. How she'd snuck up...didn't matter. He returned the smile and scooted over a little, patted the step beside him. She came over and sat down, then looked up.

"What?" he prompted, when she didn't speak.

"You still have green stuff in your hair."

Angel sighed again, and ran his hand through his hair. Tiny pieces of green construction paper fell off his head. Once he'd been the Scourge of Europe. Now he was Scourge of BasementLand. He sighed again.

"You sigh an awful lot for somebody who doesn't have to breathe," Buffy informed him. "What's the matter?"

Angel looked down at her, and wondered if there were an answer that didn't involve humiliating himself. Probably not. "Promise you won't tell?" he asked.

"Nope," she replied cheerfully. "I promised Giles a long time ago that I wouldn't ever not tell him stuff about you ever anymore."

He nodded. "That's fair. Promise you won't tell Spike and Xander?"

Buffy made a face. "Them? Stupid dork-boys. They're in there watching _Dumb and Dumber_. Giles says it makes you dumber and dumber just to watch it."

"So what's Giles doing?"

"Watching it. He says he's smart enough that it can't hurt him, but I should go outside."

"Ah." He smiled, watching her frown. She looked so much like her older self, and for a moment he wanted to just reach out and hold her.

"So what's this big secret?" she asked, eyes lighting up again.

"Um, you promise not to tell Spike and Xander? I mean, really promise?"

She crossed her heart. "Promise. I'll never ever ever tell."

Angel leaned down towards her, and whispered, "I think I'm gonna miss this."

"Miss what?"

"Them. You, all of you...when you're grown-up again."

Her head tilted to one side, and she made a confused little sound. "But we'll be right here. You can always come visit."

"Yeah, but..." Angel sighed again. "You're right. I can." He stared at the moon, half hidden by the tree in the back yard, as the wind gently rocked the branches back and forth. After a few moments, he felt a small hand slip into his.

"You'll miss us being kids, huh?"

He smiled, not looking at her. "Well, you are kinda cute."

She looked at him, completely guilelessly. "I'm always cute."

He laughed. "Yes, you are. But it's a novel thing for Spike and Xander to be cute."

"That's because you've never seen them cooking. They wear these aprons, and get all serious and stuff, then they start putting food on each other's noses." She wrinkled her nose. "It's cute."

"I'll have to remember that." Spike? Cook? Where on earth had he learned how to cook? Rather, when?

"So you can still come visit us and we'll be cute. Um, well Giles won't be cute anymore. Not unless he's carrying that chainsaw."

Angel blinked. Looked at Buffy, but she was totally serious. Angel wondered if he really wanted to ask.

Instead, he simply looked at her. Being the child she hadn't been since she was fifteen and the power of the Slayer had appeared in her life, both blessing and curse. Being the child she'd always been, somewhere in his consciousness, the span of years between them finally illustrated for him in this portrait of snub-nosed innocence sitting next to him.

"Do you like it?" he asked finally, when she'd started to give him the 'what're you lookin' at' look.

She frowned. "The chainsaw?"

He had to laugh. It was a good thing Spike and Xander had given him so much practice over the last few days, or it might have come out a bit rusty. "No, being little again."

"Oh." She looked thoughtful, and it was almost comical how serious such a young face could be. If it weren't for the fact that it made her look a little less young.... Finally she nodded. "I like it. I kinda wish--" She looked up at him, big eyes showing the sorrow in them she hadn't hinted at, before. "I miss my mom. It's hard to remember she isn't here. She's *supposed* to be here." She looked around, as if involuntarily searching for her even now.

Angel hugged her, and for a moment she just rested against him.

Then she laughed. "The rest of it is fun, though. Everything Dawn has *ever* done to me...I get to do back."

"Careful she doesn't just retaliate once you get the spell reversed." Angel couldn't help but smile, though.

"I'm not worried. I'll be... no, I guess I won't be taller than her. Darn growth spurt. But I'll still be big enough to kick her butt." She stuck her tongue out in the direction of the kitchen, where Angel could hear someone, presumably Dawn, running water for dishes. "I'm not tall enough to reach her butt right now. Unless I stand on a chair. Spike said I should stand on a chair. But I think he just wants to get me in trouble."

Angel nodded. "He's good at that. My advice would be to wait 'til you're taller, then kick Spike's butt."

Buffy grinned. "But I can do that now!"

"Um," Angel stopped as he realized he couldn't think of any reason why she shouldn't. Not any *good* reasons, at any rate.

"Can I go kick him right now?" Buffy asked, looking towards the house again.

"Why don't you sit with me for a while longer?" Angel suggested, feeling obligated to try to forestall chaos. Somehow Willow or Tara would find out he'd told Buffy to go kick Spike, and the resulting mayhem would be laid on his shoulders. He'd have to clean it up, *and* deal with Spike and Xander pouting at him for not loving them.

"Yeah, they're still watching that stupid movie," Buffy agreed, and stayed where she was, having no clue how relieved Angel was that she did.

**********

Part Ten

Xander whispered in Spike's ear as they turned the corner of Mulholland Drive and onto the main road, then pointed out the window of the Range Rover. Spike looked out at the glowing golden arches, and nodded, grinning diabolically. As one, they tapped Buffy and Giles on their nearest shoulders, and pointed.

Just as Tara pulled past the "Welcome" sign and the entrance, all four of them chorused "We want fries!"

Buffy nudged Spike, and after looking at her for a second, he rolled his eyes and joined in on the delayed-reaction addition of "Please?"

Dawn snickered, but Spike was pretty sure only the vampires in the car could hear her. Namely himself. Xander was busy scooting forward so he could be seen in the rearview mirror, and giving Tara the puppy-eyes. Spike would have helped, but -- mirror.

"You had pasta an hour ago," Willow reminded them. Spike thought she was really getting too much into the whole 'mommy' thing. Granted, she always had, but this was going overboard. As if it *mattered* how long ago they'd eaten?

"We want fries!" Xander repeated in a loud, piteous tone. Spike was impressed by his volume.

When there was no immediate move to turn the car around, Spike helped. "It'll be our Last Meal! We want it to be a Happy Meal!"

Willow and Tara both groaned. "His mind may have regressed, but his sense of humor stayed the same," Willow commented. "It's just finally in the right-sized body."

Spike forced himself not to make a snarky comment about bodies and sizes and other things a four-year-old wasn't supposed to be thinking, and concentrated on something simple-- desire for fries. Those sweet, salty, greasy, luscious sticks of potato that, he and Xander agreed, had to have some sort of addictive drug as their secret ingredient, because the fact was, they were disgusting. And yet...

"We want fries..." he said dolefully. And he did.

"I want chicken nuggets," Buffy added.

"Cheeseburger!" Xander cried, and Spike echoed him a moment later. Not that he really cared what else was in the Happy Meal, but peeling off the cheese and whapping someone with it was always good for laughs.

They all watched as Tara looked over at Willow. They did their telepathic communication thing which Spike couldn't translate no matter how often he pretended he could. "They'll only get louder if we don't," Willow finally said. Spike, and the others, all cheered once Tara got into a turn lane to change directions.

Giles scooted forward. "I want a Sprite. With very little ice. And a straw that bends." He sounded imperiously demanding, much like he did when he was trying to get them to pay attention to a briefing. Spike goosed him, then pointed at Xander when he whirled around.

"I..um... don't know if they have the bendy straws here," Tara said, looking at Willow quickly, then pulling into the drive-through lane.

"Oh, we need the bendy straws," Spike told them gravely. "It doesn't taste the same without the bendy-straws."

Giles looked torn between smacking Xander for pinching him, smacking Spike for just being Spike, and going into the Giles-Pout to end all Giles-Pouts. Which was Spike's fervent hope. He loved the Xander-Pout best, followed by the Anya-Pout, but he got to see those every day. The Giles-Pout was a rare and endangered animal, and he did everything he could to encourage its survival in the wild.

He wondered if he could get away with goosing the mini-Watcher again, while the gray-green eyes were busy not quite filling up with tears.

"We'll ask, Giles," Willow promised.

But Giles wasn't convinced. Spike watched avidly as his face ever so slowly slid into the pout. Very subtle; if you didn't know what was coming you'd just think he was snarked. But then, there it went -- the frown, the eyes, and the chin all smoothly arranged into a pout.

Spike wanted to applaud, but he was afraid he'd startle the old boy out of it.

Willow sighed. "I said we'd ask."

"But McDonald's doesn't have bendy straws," Dawn pointed out -- but she was sitting where she couldn't see The Pout. "Just the same red and yellow things they've always had."

Giles' chin quivered. "I want a bendy straw," he said in a very tiny voice. Spike found *himself* ready to run out and buy him a box. He glanced over and saw Xander watching Giles with a rapt expression. Uh-oh. If that one started taking notes....

"Welcome to McDonald's, may I take your order?" a teenaged female voice echoed out of the speakers, startling him, and apparently Giles as well, who hiccuped.

"I want chicken nuggets!" Buffy yelled, at the same time as Xander was extolling the virtues of cheeseburgers, fries, and little motorcycles with army guys on them.

Giles just hiccuped again, and whispered "Bendy straw?" at Willow.

Spike couldn't be left out of the fun, so he shouted out over the lot of them, "I want a Big Mac Double Cheese Jumbo Burger and three large orders of fries Happy Meal. And a chocolate shake."

Even Dawn poked her head around the seat to peer into the back at him. "They don't have that burger; you made it up. And you can't even eat one large order of fries."

"Can so!"

But it was too late. Tara was placing an order for four Happy Meals, and fries for the grown-ups. Spike pouted, briefly, then started planning his attack. It all depended on whether the nits gave them gender-appropriate toys, or not.

Then he pouted at Dawn, again, because she was giggling at him. Or

possibly at Buffy or Xander, but just in case.... "I can eat four large fries; I've done it before."

"Yeah, and got sick half an hour later," Xander reminded him.

Spike wanted to whap him. Whose side was he on, anyhow? Spike grimaced at the little half- hearted twinge the chip gave him, as if it knew he was only thinking of Xander, and hitting Xander didn't really count anymore.

"So? I ate 'em," he protested.

"Yeah, and it was kinda cool watchin' you do the Exorcist-vomit thing." Xander pulled on Willow's sleeve. "Get him the fries. I wanna see him spew."

She looked sternly at Xander. "No, I will *not*. There will be no spewing in this car. Unless *you* wanna clean it when you're big again."

Xander shook his head quickly. "No. I wanna go drive *my* car when I get big again."

"I wanna go shopping," Buffy said, bouncing in her seat. "I wanna buy a new dress and go dance at the Bronze."

They all looked at Giles.

He sniffed. "I want a bendy straw."

Xander was the only one who looked at Spike. Spike agreeably told him, "I want to do things I haven't the bits for."

Then he grinned, as the boy handing over sacks of food, looked startled and nearly dropped the Happy Meal. Spike glared -- it better not have been *his* pickle-less cheeseburger.

Willow started handing Happy Meals into the back seat while Tara paid the boy and said casually, "Add that to the tab, hon?"

"Sure," Willow said in a breezy tone that instantly made Spike suspicious. Then he realized they were talking about making them pay them back for everything, and relaxed. He wasn't the one with a job, was he?

He saw Giles morosely holding his drink, and looking at the straw Dawn had put in it. Spike waited to see if they were going to get *two* Giles Pouts in the same day.

"We'll get you a bendy straw on the way to the shop," Willow told the unhappy-looking boy. Damn. No pout, just a suspicious little 'hmm' from Giles, who took a small sip of his soda.

"What's the toy? What's the toy?" Xander was asking, as he opened his bag and fiddled about, heedless of the actual food. Which was pretty much what they were all doing.

Buffy pulled hers out first. "I got... Van Helsing? Yuck! I want Dracula!"

Xander held up his own. "Lucy? Who's Lucy?"

Spike glanced at it. "She's the one gets vamped and goes out lookin' for kids to eat."

Buffy nodded. "Yeah, she sings that song about 'Come here, little boy...' I saw it in the commercial."

Willow was grimacing in the rear-view mirror, Spike could see. "There's something just...wrong about Disney doing 'Dracula, the animated musical.'

Spike pulled his own toy out. "Whadja get?" Xander asked eagerly.

Grinning, Spike waved it in his face. "Renfield. The bug-eatin' bloke."

Xander appeared suitably impressed -- at least Spike thought so, until Xander screwed up his face and stuck his tongue out. "Bugs, ick." Startled, Spike almost reached up and felt Xander's forehead. Bugs, ick? This was the four-year-old he'd come to know and love?

His concern was distracted by a smug Giles saying, "I got a coffin." They all turned to look, as Giles triumphantly held up the coffin which held...Dracula.

"Trade ya!" Spike, Xander, and Buffy all yelled at once.

Giles shook his head, his fingers closely tightly around the toy.

"I'll give you Lucy, and a french fry," Xander offered.

"Van Helsing and *two* french fires!" Buffy upped the ante.

"I'll give you Renfield, and a whole large french fry," Spike offered. When they looked at his in confusion, he pointed to the front seat. There were plenty of large fries to offer.

"You're not getting our fries," Dawn told him. But Spike saw her glance towards the Dracula toy. "I'll give you..."

"Dawn, no!" Willow shushed her. "Don't even think about it. Let Giles have his toy. Geez, it's not like you can't drive through tomorrow and get your own."

"It's not like he can't drive through tomorrow and get his own, too," Dawn pointed out, though she retreated into her seat next to the front passenger side window and didn't say anything further. Spike could see her perplexed reflection in the glass.

"It wouldn't be the same, Niblet," he said softly, putting his face up close to the back of her seat, while the others in the back showed off their toys and continued to try to get Giles to trade, with no success.

Dawn turned her head, twisting around to face him, though he could see her perfectly well in the slightly darkened window. As long as she'd known vampires of one sort or another, and she still wasn't used to talking at the reflection of thin air. "It's so weird to hear you call me that. You're little enough for me to call *you* the bite-sized one."

"What do you mean? I'm always bite-sized." He grinned, leering as best as he could without making anyone slap him. Except, hang on, the only ones who slapped him for leering at the little girl were all little, themselves. He leered harder.

Dawn rolled her eyes. "That looks so stupid on you, Spike. Thought you should know."

He blinked. "What?" How could his best leer look *stupid*?

"You're four years old," she explained, as if he hadn't noticed the PeeWee sized peewee in the bathroom this morning. "A four-year-old leering looks about as stupid as a four-year-old kicking the back of my seat." She glared hard at Xander. Xander stuck his tongue out, and went back to offering Giles everyone's fries, and a cash advance.

Spike tried his second-best leer. (The one reserved for times when he, Xander, and Anya were already in bed together and there wasn't a chance he wasn't going to get any, and he was saving his strength for other things.) "How's this one?"

"You look like you just found out you're lactose intolerant."

He stuck his tongue out at her.

She smiled, then looked measuringly at him. "You know, you have the longest tongue I've ever seen on a four-year-old, and please don't make any comments that I'll have to think too deeply about when I go to sleep tonight. Can you touch your nose with it?"

Spike raised one eyebrow, and stuck his tongue out as far as he could, almost touching the bridge of his nose with it. Flash, and he was effectively blind.

"Love you too, Little Bit," he snarled. "Remind me to show your next boyfriend those pictures Xan has of you in the Girl Scout uniform. With the braces."

"If he's anything like you, he'll think they're sexy."

Spike raised his other eyebrow. Hard to remember not to think 'the one with the scar' even though it wasn't there to make his face feel tight every time he stretched it. He hoped it wasn't permanently gone, or he might have to go out to Willy's and get in a demon fight, just to get it back.

"I don't think ten year olds are sexy," he protested. "They're too old for me."

"Oh yeah?" Then Dawn stuck her tongue out at him.

Spike reached forward as fast as his diminutive vampire reflexes would allow, and grabbed her tongue between his fingers. Startled, she slapped his hand. "Oau!"

Before he could respond to her witty retort, there was a sudden howling -- Xander, and in sincere distress. Spike let go of her tongue and turned to find Xander sitting on the floorboards, howling his heart out.

And no wonder. Scattered all over the floor, crushed and mixed in with things even Spike would have hesitated to pick a french fry out of, were Xander's french fries.

"What on earth is going on back there?" Willow asked. Spike ignored her, and crouched down beside Xander, pulled the screaming child towards him.

"Xander, what's wrong," Willow asked, more forcefully, poking her head back through the space between the front seats. How they managed to fit three people into the front of a Range Rover was something Spike could think deeply about at another time. Right now, he had a bawling Xander in his arms.

Buffy sniffed haughtily. "He tried to steal my slayer-guy to trade for Giles' Dracula, and his fries got all spilled, and it serves him right."

Xander wasn't making a lot of sense as he sobbed into Spike's faded Oscar the Grouch t-shirt, but Spike caught, "Woulda...give it back...my fries..." before another round of sobs obliterated any attempt at English communication.

"Come on, Xan. You can have my fries," Spike told him, even though he didn't really have many left. Not enough to satisfy him, now. Xander didn't even seem to have heard him. He did hear Willow trying to scoot closer, and glanced up to see her trying to reach Xander.

"Xander? Come on, you can have some of my fries," she said. But Xander was too busy trying not to breathe, in favour of screaming. And kicking Buffy, which Spike normally heartily approved of.

Now, though, he reached out and pulled Xander's leg away from her, where Xander couldn't reach, held his leg so he couldn't kick. "She didn't mean to, Xan. Don't kick her."

He found Willow blinking at him, eyes wide. "Spike?"

They were pulling to a stop, before he had to bother with explaining that Xander would just feel all guilty when he got big again, if Spike let him keep kicking the Slayer, and Spike would so much rather shag than watch him brood. Buffy and Giles piled out of the vehicle as soon as they could, Buffy still insisting she hadn't done anything deliberately.

Tara and Dawn came around to lead them into the Magic Box, both of them casting concerned looks at the still-blubbering Xander. Willow waved them off, and began to pull Xander from Spike's arms.

"No! I don't wanna..." Xander bawled, and now Spike knew he was just plain hysterical, because normally he'd trade ice cream for a chance to be picked up and carried around by Willow.

Spike tried to pull him out of the truck on his own, glaring at Willow when she reached to pick Xander up. She was only trying to help, but if he'd reached this stage of senselessness... "I can carry him," Spike said firmly.

"Spike, don't be silly, he's the same size as you are. I don't care how strong you are, you'd fall over if you try to lift him up." Willow pulled them both down from the back seat, and shut the door, reaching down to pick Xander up. "We really should hurry; they're waiting for us."

"Give him to me," he demanded, hurrying as she picked him up again out of Spike's arms. He bloody well too could carry him, and if not they'd sit out here on the sidewalk all night. He tried to grab her arm, but didn't, afraid she might drop Xander, who didn't really seem to notice, or care, who was holding him. Willow headed inside the shop, apparently ignoring Spike. Glaring at her, and promising to do evil things to her as soon as he was big enough and got rid of the chip so it wouldn't do what it was doing right now, he scrambled after. "Let me have him!" he demanded again.

Willow went up to Angel, and handed him the hysterical child. Spike spared a moment to approve, and enjoy the dumb look on Angel's face, before he realized why she'd handed Xander to him. Angel was strong enough to hold Xander *and* Spike. Spike practically crawled up his Sire's leg until Angel reached down for him, and picked him up. Finally.

Spike reached over and pulled Xander to him, once more, and held him while Angel held them both.

When Xander had finally settled down to a quiet sniffling, Spike ventured another look at Angel's gobsmacked face. Grinned.

"Uh..." Angel said, showing off the keen and incisive wit that had made him the leading quarter of the Scourge of Europe.

"French fries," Spike mouthed.

"French guys?"

"Yeah, they're terribly rude. One of 'em called Xan a poophead." Spike rolled his eyes. "Twit." He mouthed the words again, and mimed eating, then spilling, the fries.

Which obviously told Angel *nothing*, and made Spike wonder who had been the brains of the outfit. Certainly hadn't been Spike, since they'd never listened to him, anyway. He looked over at Xander, who was growing even quieter. Sniffling. Rubbing his nose on Angel's shirt. Good boy!

"Xan?" he asked carefully, not wanting to set off another round of whatever that had been.

Xander looked at him with such huge eyes and whipped expression, that Spike wanted to instantly promise to destroy everything that had ever hurt Xander. Except this time it had been Buffy, and whomever hadn't cleaned out the Range Rover so Xander couldn't just eat his fries off the floor. Which, um, was Dawn. So maybe he'd just growl. Softly.

Xander didn't answer -- he was trying to inhale gasps of air. Spike wriggled forward, trusting Angel not to drop him, and held Xander as tightly as he could.

"Perhaps we should get ready to perform the spell?" Wesley asked, though he sounded like he didn't mind if they had to wait some more. But Spike thought it was a good idea to get it over with -- maybe, once older, Xander wouldn't be about to burst into tears again as soon as he remembered what he was bawling about.

He nodded, and motioned with one hand for Angel to put them down. Across the room, Buffy was grinning and bouncing up and down on her toes. "I'm gonna be big again, and I can go out to the park and kick some vampire butt..." she chanted.

Giles, however, looked at the floor, and scuffed his shoes. He was clutching his toy in his hand, and moping silently, over what, Spike couldn't really figure. He'd managed to keep Dracula through all the hubbub, so the evening should have been a roaring triumph for him. Spike wondered if they were going to be treated to a mini-Ripper tantrum. After a few moments of watching Giles stare at invisible dust-bunnies on the shop floor as the adults busied themselves with the preparations for the spell, he decided it wasn't going to happen.

Which was both a disappointment for the theatrical-audience side of him, and a relief for the bit that just couldn't handle another screaming fit, even if the one doing the screaming didn't belong to Spike, this time.

"Look what I found!" Dawn said, coming out of Giles' office. She was holding a box, and walked over to Giles. Spike blinked as she pulled a straw out of the box, bent it at a rakish angle, and replaced the straight boring straw in Giles' soda.

Giles beamed at her.

Spike returned his attention to Xander, who was nestled up in Spike's arms with his head resting on Angel's chest. Blinking slowly, as though he needed a nap. Which he probably did. "Come on, Xan, let's get changed back then we can go to bed." He only leered a little, so why Dawn whapped him on the head as she walked past, he didn't understand.

"Oh, I brought the bathrobes," Angel said, nodding towards a bag sitting on the floor. Spike thought he needed to work on his hand motions, and did the 'set us down, you ponce' motion one more time.

Angel didn't see him. Or something, because he was still holding them.

"Can't put 'em on if you don't stop smooshing us, Mr. Potato-Head," Spike said to him.

Xander looked up. "Mr. Potato-head? Where?"

"I was talkin' to the big tuber-face here," Spike told him, nodding at Angel's head. Alert for any sign that Xander was going to go off again, like a defused bomb that might still have a booby trap. But Xander only gave a little -- very little -- grin.

Angel looked down at them, and he didn't look confused at all. Which was a rarity. Instead, the look on his face was much more frightening. It was... all mushy, and creepy, and...

And he was getting kissed on the forehead, and then Xander was, which was fine, and then they were both being smooshed again. Really tight. Spike wasn't worried for himself -- aside from the general fear that his Sire had gone round the bend again -- but Xander still had to breathe.

He decided quite firmly that he was going to count to five, or possibly ten, then he was going to bite Angel.

When he got to seven Angel set them down, and went over to grab two of the robes. Spike put his arm around Xander, who was still sniffling every once in a while. Xander grabbed onto him like Spike was his teddy bear -- which he was, but they were in a room full of people who weren't supposed to know about *that* bit. Spike stood still until Angel handed out their robes.

Spike blinked. "What's that for?"

"To put on," Angel said.

"So you aren't naked, when you grow up and your clothes don't," Willow explained. Buffy was already wearing her over-sized robe and waiting near the circle Wesley had drawn. Giles was trying to remove his shorts underneath his robe without flashing anybody.

Spike blinked at his Sire. "Yeah?"

Angel sighed. "We don't want to see you, naked. Put the robes on."

Spike considered protesting, then grinned. "Okay." He immediately began stripping off-- and helping Xander to do the same. Angel grabbed him firmly by the back of his size 3x jeans, before he got round to unbuttoning Xander's.

"I said we *don't* want to see you naked."

"Oh, we're kids. Get an unlife." Spike twisted out of his Sire's grasp and shucked off his jeans and shoes, smiling approvingly as Xander did the same.

"Okay, that's enough. Put the robes on," Angel ordered.

"But these underwear will be too small for us, if we leave 'em on," Xander said, flashing the big, still liquid-filled brown eyes at him. *Very* good boy.

"*Far* too small," Spike added, leering at anyone within leering distance.

"Which is why you're putting your robes on *before* you-- oh, hell. Fine." Angel looked away from Spike and Xander, who had both wriggled out of their underwear while Angel was telling them they'd better not. They did put the robes on, though Spike didn't quite manage to get his pulled closed.

Angel growled and knelt down, and belted his robe, then belted Xander's. Xander pouted at him, and Spike thumped Angel. "If you get him to bawling, again--!"

"Why don't you two come stand over here, in the circle?" Willow interrupted.

Spike was tempted to say he didn't want to, but he really *didn't* want to set Xander off again. He took a hold of Xander's hand, and stepped towards the circle -- and stopped. Looked up at Angel. "We're gonna trip and break our necks."

And they were out of the robes and running over to the circle before Angel could grab either of them.

Angel growled quite a bit louder, this time, and brought the robes over to the circle. "On, now," he ordered, in that 'I'm your Sire and you'd better listen or I'll do something nasty to someone's puppy' voice that he hadn't been able to pull off properly in years. Spike just giggled.

"Or you'll what -- spank us?"

Before Angel could answer, Xander gave Spike a big, fearful gaze, and opened his mouth wide. "I don't wanna be spanked!" he howled. "I didn't do anything!"

Neither of which was true, or at least the last one wasn't, and the first one wouldn't be if they could just get themselves back to proper, all-bits-working, size, but it was awfully hard for Spike to concentrate on how to convince Xander of that when he was screaming.

"Oh, bloody hell," he muttered, and picked up Xander's robe with one hand, grabbing onto Xander with the other. He wrapped the robe around Xander's shoulders as best he could -- getting a little help from Angel, who gave him a smug 'your fault' look which Spike *didn't* need, thank you. When he had Xander wrapped up tight, himself half-inside Xan's robe with him, he looked up at Wesley. "Reckon you can do the spell while he's carrying on?"

Wesley looked doubtful. Tara pointed out, "He'll be yelling for an hour, otherwise. We'd better just get started."

The witches and spellcasters and spellcasters' assistants got into position to begin the spell. Spike hung onto Xander, and gave Angel a dark glare until his Sire knelt down again and wrapped them both in his arms again.

They stayed that way throughout the spellcasting -- Xander's cries winding down into snuffles by the time the last of the mojo had been done. There was a flash of light, and Spike felt like the room had been tipped over.

When he could see again, he found himself much taller. Not as tall as Xander, of course, who was blinking, and grinning those few inches down at him. And nowhere near as tall as Angel, the mum-was-taking-steroids-when-he-was-conceived bastard.

Who was standing up, having been drawn upward with them as the reversal spell unfolded. Unfortunate, that, because Spike had come up with a list of lewd suggestions to use if Angel had come out of it still kneeling. He was, however, gratified to note that Angel was still hugging them. And hadn't yet realized that Xander was half-naked, and Spike was... suddenly happily aware of the bits he'd mentioned wanting to use earlier.

Considering that he was pressed up against a half-naked Xander, it wasn't surprising.

"Will someone get that undead white guy some clothes on?" came a complaint which Spike was happy to ignore.

"Xander? Are you OK?" came Willow's question, sounding half-tentative and half like she was about to start teasing him mercilessly at the first sign of embarrassment.

Xander turned to her, yawned, and gave her a puppy look. "I don't have any fries."

"I have," Buffy sang at them. Then she looked at Giles, and gave *him* a puppy look.

"No. I am not giving you my Dracula toy. It's mine and I am going to keep it."

Spike glanced over, and saw the toy still clutched in Giles' hand.

Xander sniffled, but Spike could tell it was completely fake, this time. "I was promised fries. I was, I remember."

Angel poked Spike hard on the arm, and he glanced over to see his Sire holding out the robe that Spike somehow never got round to putting on. Spike did the only thing you could do with Angel when he wanted you to do something -- ignored him.

"Yeah, you promised my Xander fries," Spike said accusingly to Willow, who still had a questioning look on her face.

"Are you guys ... um... mentally..." Willow studied their completely innocent faces for a few quiet seconds, then turned to Giles. "Are *you* back to normal, Giles?"

Rupert coughed loudly and said, "Of course I am," before slipping his Happy Meal toy into the pocket of his robe.

"Buffy?"

"Yup. Full-size Buffy, completely compos mentos."

Willow blinked at her for a moment, then smiled, along with Spike, Giles and most of the other Latin speakers in the room.

Buffy frowned. "Not quite right?"

"Not unless you mean you're hidin' a package of the Freshmaker somewhere in that robe." Spike caught Xander's eye. "Wanna help her look for it?"

Xander shook his head. "Nah-- what if she actually said 'compos mantis,' and there's one of those bug-women in there with her?"

Buffy stuck out her tongue, showing off her newfound maturity. Willow looked torn between grinning and glaring sternly at Spike and Xander. "Well, I guess you're back to what passes for normal, too."

"But I still get my fries, right?" Xander asked. He turned his puppy face to Spike, who was already willing to go buy him more fries. Er, talk Angel into buying them both fries. Since he didn't have any money, nor pockets.

Spike tried turning a puppy face on Angel.

Angel snorted.

Then Spike couldn't see much, because there was a robe on his head.

*******************

Part Eleven

Half an hour later, they were trying to relax. Socialize as adults for a while, before Angel, Wesley, and Gunn came to their senses and decided to head back to Los Angeles and away from Spike and Xander, as fast as Gunn's truck could take them.

All of the robed ex-children were now dressed in their own clothing, and Rupert, for one, was overjoyed to be out of those infernal kiddie fashions. Really. Which didn't exactly explain why he was still holding his Dracula figure in one hand, absently playing with the cape.

Xander was still pouting over not being able to wear the Underoos anymore, but he was obviously only doing it to make Dawn giggle, or perhaps to convince Spike that Spike needed to convince Xander to buy something similar in an adult size on their way home. He didn't look as if he were *really* disappointed to be an adult again. Especially considering that a blue- jeaned Spike was sitting on his lap, still trying to tease Angel, and having a reasonable amount of success even without the huge blue anime eyes.

Buffy was talking animatedly to Wesley about the lengths she'd been able to push her vamp- sensing abilities to, recently, and whether it was something new and weird, or just due to the fact that she'd outlived any previous Slayer on record.

All in all, they looked perfectly happy to be restored to their previous selves. As well they should be.

So why was Giles still wishing he'd taken more time to enjoy his bendy straw?

He tried not to dwell on it, uncomfortable enough with the memories of being held to see onto the table of t-shirts, or even more embarrassingly, of crawling into bed with the others. Waking up *snuggling*, for god's sake. Which reminded him, he had to find and destroy their film.

Rather than think about things he felt it best to put past him, he turned his attention to the Urdeku. Wesley had been re-reading the book, his progress slowed by stopping to chat with Buffy, Willow and Tara, and stopping to fend off his companion's advances. Or not fend off, Rupert noted as he glanced away in time to avoid seeing where Gunn's left hand was trying to go.

The statue needed to be destroyed, but he had to be sure it was safe to do so. Perhaps it could be rendered powerless, and it could remain as a reminder? Which meant first determining the source and extent of its power.

Which meant going over to talk to Wesley, of course.

Wesley, whose *lap* he had sat on while the other man was reading the book for the first time. Wesley, who had good-naturedly allowed a four-year-old Rupert to correct his pronunciation of the word 'bisquiscalium' and never once laughed at his lisp. Wesley, who was even now noticing the fact that he was looking in that direction, and was motioning him over with a disturbing little smile.

Sighing, Rupert crossed the shop to the chair in which Wesley was seated. His unformed suspicions were confirmed when Gunn stood up from where he was perched on the arm of the soft chair, and indicated Wesley's lap. "All yours, G."

*His* grin was wide enough to make Giles scowl reflexively at Wesley. Big-mouthed little tit. Wesley merely held up the book. "Did you want to share?"

"Information, yes. Your lap, no."

"Ah." Wesley managed to look as though Rupert had embarrassed himself anyhow.

He gave the other man a stern look, and held up the book he'd carried over. "Is there a reference to the Urdeku there?"

Wesley frowned at the book in his lap, then nodded. "Yes, actually. Here." He pointed out the paragraph. Rupert read it twice before showing Wesley the passage he'd found.

"My word." Wesley sat up straight. When he looked up, Rupert nodded. "Do you think it's safe?"

"We certainly came out of it unscathed," Rupert pointed out. "I say that having not seen the photographs Willow is hiding."

"What's safe?" Buffy asked, wandering over. Rupert's hand closed on his Dracula doll, and he saw Buffy frown.

"The Urdeku still retains its power -- limited power."

"So we have to render it harmless?" Willow asked, giving the Urdeku a dubious look and a wide berth, as she walked around it.

Rupert shook his head. "It isn't dangerous, as such. The huge 'beware, beware' notices carved on the side, and the writings about it in the literature, are merely a warning not to play about with it without another adult whom you trust being present. It's an artifact that you wouldn't have wanted to touch in battle, for instance-- you'd be instantly powerless."

"So how did it manage to get all the way here from wherever you ordered it from, without anybody accidentally touching it?" Buffy asked. "And why did you order it in the first place?"

Rupert blinked at her. And blinked again. "I didn't." He called over to Xander, who was busy not remotely trying to stop Spike from doing inappropriate things to him. "Xander, have you called Anya?"

Xander looked up, startled, with that familiar 'I didn't do it, whatever it was' expression. "No! I mean... wait a minute. Yeah, I called her. Before we all started acting like real kids. She said neat, cool, she loves us, take lots of pictures."

"And that you lot should keep track of everything annoying we do and give her a list, so she can punish us for it when she gets back," Spike added with a straight face. The frightening thing was that he probably wasn't lying. So did that mean that if they really wanted to fix Spike, they should all tell Anya that her boys had been as good as gold?

Rupert shook his head. Not the question at hand. "What I'm concerned about is whether she mentioned having placed the order for the statue in the first place."

"Nope. In fact, she'd never heard of it. I guess it's not exactly vengeance-related magic." Xander shrugged.

"Does it make any difference where it came from, if it's not dangerous?" Willow asked.

"No, I suppose not. Though it should still be drained of its power, if only so no one else gets regressed by accident, without the..er...extended support system that we had to help us deal with it."

"So how do we drain it of power?" Buffy asked.

"Well, actually, that's rather a...interesting thing." Rupert looked at the statue again, and stifled the urge to explain its origins and apparent purpose for being created. Normally he wouldn't have resisted the chance to explain, but he wanted to see the looks on their faces when he told them what they needed to do to render it inert.

He found them all waiting, looking at him. Except Wesley, who was staring at the statue as if worried it might tip over and land on someone.

"OK, enough with the dramatic pause," Xander said. "What's so interesting?"

"We can safely and effectively drain it of its power by using it again. Four times, to be precise."

Instead of the confusion -- and possibly complaining -- that he expected, there were general mutterings of 'cool' and 'who's next, then' and 'I'm *not* letting Angel play with my bubble foam.'

"I have no *intention* of playing with your bubble foam," Angel answered Xander with great dignity.

"Oh, come now, you *are* gonna get kiddified, aren't you?" Spike asked him. "You need to be raised up proper, after all."

"By you two? I don't think so."

Xander shook his head. "Oh no. All three of us. Anya gets back on Tuesday."

"I repeat: no. And also no."

"But Cordelia will be so disappointed," Wesley teased him.

"Nah," Gunn said, slapping shut the book that Wesley was holding, and pulling it from his hands. "She'll be too busy snappin' pictures of you, English."

"Me?" Wesley looked startled. "I won't be touching that thing."

"Why not? I bet you'd have fun." Dawn grinned at him.

Willow was waving her hand. "Me? Me and Tara? We get to, right?" She gave Tara a look, and Tara shrugged, then nodded with a small smile.

Willow grinned back. Xander said, "Hey! A four-year-old Willow. Who wouldn't want to see that?"

"And you better be nice to me, Mister," she told him, already pouting. "I expect fries. Lots of 'em."

"Oh?" Buffy asked. "And who was it took pictures of us playing in the sprinkler, naked?"

"Who was it took her clothes off, Missy?" Willow countered.

"I was *four*!"

"And Xan was just born to strip," Spike added with a grin. Which got him a smack -- from Buffy.

"You promised never to repeat that story," she hissed.

"What story?" Spike asked innocently. "We were talking about you naked in the sprinkler, right?"

"No, we were talking about what we're gonna do to Willow when she turns four. Like play airplane," Xander said gleefully.

"And read her bedtime stories," Spike said, a nasty gleam in his eye.

Willow nodded. "Yup. *My* choice in bedtime stories. I think you bozos might just manage to finish reading 'Little Women' in two weeks. If you get through that one, I figure we can start on the Camille Paglia."

Rupert decided he didn't want to know why Spike and Xander just kept grinning, as if they were actually looking forward to it. From Willow's expression, she didn't either.

"So who else is touching it?" Buffy asked, looking around the room. "We need two more volunteers! Dawn? You want a go?"

But Dawn shook her head. "Nah. If we had a statue that made people older - I'd like to be twenty." She looked hopefully at Rupert. He shook his head. Dawn's face fell. She pouted well enough that he was rather glad she didn't want to be four.

Buffy looked at the others. "Gunn? How about you?"

He just shook his head. "Nope. Somebody's gotta take care of the little pansy-ass squirt for two weeks, and it ain't gonna be Angel. Look at how *his* kids turned out." He nodded at Spike and Xander, who were back to...Rupert blinked. It almost looked like perfectly innocent necking. Perhaps he needed a new prescription.

"I am *not* going to..." Wesley was protesting again.

"Yeah, yeah, tell it to the guy who *doesn't* know your teddy bear's name," Gunn said.

Wesley looked hurriedly at Rupert, then away, and it took him a second to puzzle it out, before he had to grin at his countryman. Ah well, he did owe Wesley for being so patient with him when he was a child, Rupert supposed. "Gunn, we're British, and over twenty-five. *Everyone's* teddy bear was named Rupert."

"Not mine," Spike corrected him.

"Spike, they didn't have teddy bears when you were four," Angel said.

"Who's talking about when I was four?" Spike responded, giving Xander a mostly chaste bear- hug.

"Right, so we have Willow, Tara, and Wesley, as three of our four volunteers?" Rupert said quickly, before he got any closer to upchucking than he already was.

"I am *not*--" Wesley began again. Gunn took his hand, said, "Excuse us," to the group, and pulled Wesley away a few steps. Everyone pretended not to listen, though everything they said was perfectly clear. "Come on, Wes. It's a perfect chance. Be a kid again."

"No. I didn't enjoy it the first time; I have no desire to do it again."

"But he ain't here. You'd--"

"I said 'no'. I realize he isn't here, but I have no desire to be a child."

There was a pause, and Rupert glanced over to see Gunn facing Wesley, cupping Wesley's face in his hands. "I ain't gonna let anyone hurt you, Wes. You can be a kid, again, and actually *be* a kid. I'll make sure of that."

There was more silence, and Rupert didn't have to glance over to know they were either kissing, gazing deeply and meaningfully, or about to do either.

Wesley said something that was too soft for him to overhear, but Gunn responded, "You don't have to be. I'm gonna watch over you. Promise."

Rupert moved a bit further away, looking pointedly elsewhere. He wasn't sure why -- this lot explored their deep, personal relationship issues around him -- usually loudly -- just about every day. There was something different about this, though. Whether it was just that it was the L.A. group, or Wesley being another member of the no-fuss-please-we're-British club... at any rate, it felt wrong to listen in any further.

He was quite chuffed to know his conclusions were correct, however, when Wesley moved slowly back to his chair, Gunn at his side, and nodded. "All right. I do this under protest, however, and mostly because if I don't, Gunn has threatened to do nasty things to my bone china tea set."

"The Royal Doulton," Gunn muttered. "With the hand-painted friggin' periwinkles. Crash. Tinkle. Tinkle."

Rupert frowned. "Really, Charles. If he doesn't want to...." Not that he particularly cared about Royal Doulton, but it was the principle of the thing. Now, if it were Wedgwood, that would be another case entirely...

"I need pictures of him as a kid," Gunn replied, straight-faced and serious as though that were his only true motive. Rupert decided not to press -- Wesley was a grown man...for now...and could surely talk himself out of doing something like this, if he chose.

"Well, that leaves one more. Who would like it?" He glanced about the room, and found several people staring at Angel.

"No," the vampire said. Firmly. Politely. To Willow. To Spike, he said something in Latin that indicated his vocabulary was far too advanced for a potential four-year-old, in more ways than one.

"I know what that means, you know," Spike said, looking at Angel for all the world as if he were still four years old and his Sire had said 'Hell' in front of him.

"So do I," Willow informed him, "and you still haven't explained why. We wouldn't really let Spike and Xander take care of you, if you didn't want them to. Gunn and Cordelia could do it."

"Oh, even better," came the pained reply. "No, thank you, no."

"But it'll be fun," Willow insisted. "Don't you wanna be four again? No worries, no guilt, no brooding." She smiled, taking the edge off the teasing words.

"No curse?" Angel asked.

"Oh. I didn't... you think you'd be...um...happy?" Willow frowned, thinking. "Were you guys-- ok, dumb question. Anyone who can laugh for an hour over cereal commercials is completely happy."

"Hey!" Buffy protested. "It was a funny commercial."

"Erm, actually-" Spike interrupted, his tone one that made everyone look at him, and most sane people take a step back or grab a stake. "He wouldn't be *completely* four. Ish. Maybe 180."

Xander was the first one to speak after the few seconds of confused silence that followed. "What exactly are you saying? In English, Spike."

The sandy-haired vampire -- he had reacquired his scar, but not his peroxide-stripped locks -- squirmed a bit on Xander's lap. "Er...well... I might not have exactly..."

Willow shot him a sharp look. "You didn't regress! You were just acting like a brat because you were cute and could get away with it."

"Yeah, that's a major change," Xander snorted.

"I *did* regress," Spike insisted. "Just... well, I'm a vampire. Our body chemistry's different from yours."

"Regressed to what?" Buffy asked, her eyes narrowing in that 'pre-slay taunting' way she had.

"Er, well, I dunno. Felt like I was 60!" Spike looked insulted by the insinuation that he hadn't regressed at all, then returned Xander's grin. "Was having too much fun to really worry about it."

"You sneak," Xander told him, and Rupert could tell that in another moment he was going to have to be looking elsewhere if he didn't want to get an eyeful of Xander-Spike tongue-hockey.

"See? It wouldn't have any effect on me," Angel said quickly, as if he didn't want to be seeing it, either.

"Who, then? We *do* have to render the Urdeku powerless." Rupert turned his attention back to the statue. "I suppose someone could have a second go. There's no harm in it, according to the books."

"We could wait for Anya," Xander suggested, meanwhile doing something with his finger and Spike's ear that suggested they had no intention whatsoever of waiting for Anya, for anything.

"Ew, stop that, it's disgusting," Buffy said, wrinkling her nose. The she looked seriously at the two men. "You think she'd want to miss out on male companionship for *another* two weeks? Even yours?"

"Point. 'Kay, who wants to go again, and don't say you do, Spike."

"Wouldn't dream of it. Wouldn't be any fun without you, anyhow."

"Besides, he's already used to you being the short one. Wouldn't be any different," Dawn retorted, then looked innocent when Buffy, Willow, and Giles all gaped at her.

"That's it, she's not spending any more time with them. Ever." Buffy folded her arms and glared at the two oblivious guys who had corrupted her little sister.

Rupert was only half-listening, as Spike flipped Buffy the bird and got threatened with a wooden hairclasp in reply. It really was necessary that *someone* else utilize the statue's power. For the safety of...of unsuspecting adults the world over. Or something like that. So why was he glad no one seemed to be jumping at the chance?

"I say we take a vote," Xander announced. Startled by what sounded like a sensible suggestion, Rupert looked over to find Xander raising his hand. Xander wanted them to vote for him? Well, not surprising, and if Xander really wanted to he didn't think anyone would say 'no'.

Xander shocked him by saying, "Everyone who thinks Giles should go another round of kiddie- hood, raise their hand."

There were seven yeas and one abstention. Rather, one Rupert Giles protesting half-heartedly that there was no reason it had to be *him* and why didn't Buffy take another go and who said anyone got to vote on what would be his personal decision anyway...

"Giles, I'm the Chosen One," Buffy explained gently. "I don't know if you knew this or not, but into every generation is born one girl. One girl, in all the world, born with the strength and the skill to hunt the vampires, to stop the spread of their evil..."

"To open stubborn pickle jars with just the gripping power of her two dainty knees..." Spike chimed in.

Rupert couldn't decide who to glare at, so he sent a general nasty glance at that corner of the room. "Yes, I was aware of that, thank you. Did you have a point?"

"The first time was an accident. I can't get away with slacking off the Slayage for *another* two weeks. It would be..." She pursed her lips, and gave him a deeply troubled look. "Wrong. You wouldn't want me to do something like that, would you, Giles?""

"Ah. Quite," he said dryly. "And the reason Xander shouldn't take a turn?"

"Like we said, earlier - wouldn't be any fun without me," Spike said.

"No, you said it wouldn't be any fun for you without...oh, forget it. Dawn, are you sure..?"

Dawn grinned. "I'm sure. I still remember being a kid. I mean, I know I *wasn't*, really. But I don't wanna be little again. Buffy will make me do all my chores."

"And that's different from now, how?" Buffy asked her.

Rupert looked to Gunn, the only other one who could do it. But he knew he wouldn't ask -- Wesley would never take his turn, without his lover there to watch over him. Then they'd still need a fourth....

Sighing, Rupert nodded. "Fine. But only because the thing *has* to be rendered powerless."

"And so you can finish that Lego-Land castle."

"I have no desire to finish..." Rupert looked down at the action figure in his hand. Dracula did need a place to live, after all. And if he pouted nicely enough, Buffy would probably buy him the Weird Sisters to fill out his collection.

Plus, they had a whole box of bendy straws to use up, and he'd be damned if he was going to let Wesley take off to L.A. with them.

Dear God, he was thinking like a four-year-old already.

The End

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