"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 10:

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, 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.

*****