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