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 8:

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.

*****