*****

Gunn stayed right behind Wes the whole time. Not just because he got to see Wesley's ass, which wasn't pansy but was nice, but mostly because he was half-convinced Wesley would chicken out if he could.

Threats against the Royal Doulten whatever or not, they were spending way too much time, in his opinion, getting prepared to undergo the spell. Wes was just using the failure to find anything acceptable as for an excuse to weasel his way out of it. He hadn't said anything out loud, but Gunn was used to seeing those gears turn inside Wesley's head. He could see them turning now, and he knew it wasn't a good thing.

They'd given in to Giles' suggestion that before they touched the statue again, they take some time to prepare. Gunn had thought it was gonna be some magical mystical stuff, but as it turned out -- Giles wanted to go shopping. Apparently stuffy British men had a thing about wearing Winnie the Pooh and Mojo Jojo.

All stuffy British men, because Wesley cheered his suggestion on like a tall, skinny, male Laker Girl. Rah, rah, go Giles. Except Gunn happened to know for a fact that Wesley owned three pair of Pooh-related boxer shorts: classic Pooh, Disney Pooh, and Rabbit eating carrots. True, he didn't wear 'em in public, but it was enough to tip the 'Wesley doth protest too much' scales in Gunn's head.

"Are you absolutely sure you want me to do this?" Wesley was turning around and whispering to him now.

"What, wear size 3T hip-hugger flares with rhinestones on the back pocket?" Gunn took the offending item out of Wesley's hand and stared critically at it. "No, you don't have the funk for it. Even as a four year old." Wesley gave him a look that would curdle demon's blood. Gunn just hung the pants on the rack. "Here, this'll look good." He really had no idea, and didn't care -- they were khaki coloured, looked a bit loose in the hip. But he didn't want to give Wes any more of a chance to say--

"I meant go through with the spell! What if something were to happen? If we come up against some Crogorian demons, and someone has to be able to translate?"

"You think you won't be able to read Crogorian demon notes because your head'll be smaller?"

Wesley glared again, and Gunn knew it was just nerves, and not actual anger. Which meant there was no way on this earth Gunn was letting Wes back out of this. And not only because he *had* to see the look on Cordelia's face when they got home.

"What size did you wear, anyway?" Gunn glanced over at where Giles was shopping rather easily -- who knew they made stuffy clothes for four year olds? Willow seemed to be having no trouble; Gunn could hear her jabbering about baby clothes her mother had kept. Tara wasn't saying much, but Gunn could see her smile every so often.

"I was very small as a child," Wesley replied, quietly.

"Yeah? You hit that growth spurt at sixteen, like Dawn?" Gunn nodded over to the teenager, who was helping Willow and Tara pick out clothes. He *didn't* think about a tiny four-year-old Wes, living in that house, with that father. Didn't think about it, really hard.

Wesley shook his head, picking up a really small pair of brown cords. "Twelve. In the space of six months, I went through three trouser sizes, and four shoe sizes. Mum had a fit. Not that we couldn't afford it, she just didn't like to shop."

Gunn *did* think about a twelve year old Wes suddenly springing up like a stringbean, and being dragged out to the stores by his... "You had a nanny?" He grinned. "Mom send you out to English Kids Gap with Mary Poppins?"

Wesley glared at him, but that faraway 'I'm little and four and scared' look was gone from behind his eyes, so Gunn chalked one up in the 'Go Gunn, Go Gunn' column. "No, I did *not* have a nanny." He looked around like he was afraid somebody would hear him. "Mother had a private fitter come in. Other kids were wearing Calvins off the rack, I was wearing Harrods' made-to-measure."

"So maybe we *do* need to get you the rhinestones." Gunn looked back at the pair of hideously goofy pants he'd hung up. "And those shirts up front, with Pokemon and Barney on 'em--"

"I shan't even dignify that with a remark."

"You just did." He grinned when Wesley just shook his head and went back to searching for something 'decent' to wear. But Gunn knew - if ever there was a guy who needed to wear silly cartoon shirts.... He'd have to go ask Willow to grab a couple and pretend they were for her. "Come on - just think how much your old man would *hate* it." He saw it -- he knew Wesley didn't want him to, but as Wesley stared down at the selection of jeans and slacks, there was the slightest twitch in the corner of his mouth. "We'll even send 'em a picture," Gunn offered, and saw that -- oops -- one step too far. Wes shook his head and opted for the boring blue Dockers.

"That won't be necessary," Wesley said, his distracted tone telling Gunn that the 'Go Gunn' column was scored against. Damn.

Still, he was shopping, and even picking out the boring stuff meant that he hadn't managed to squirm his brain into a position where he could back out of his agreement to go through with the kiddifying.

Or maybe not, since Wesley turned to him, holding up a small polo shirt, and saying, "I don't know..."

"Wes, what's to know? You'll be a kid for a few weeks, get to ride all the rides you're too big to go on now, and you'll be back to normal before Antiques Roadshow finishes up its re-run season."

"I meant that I don't know if I should go for the blue or the aqua," he said mildly. Then the eyebrow went up. "Rides?"

"Sure, I figured you, me and the dead guy could swing by Disneyland on our way home. Or maybe on our way back here? Would you rather go as a real kid, once your brain goes all rugrat on ya?"

The brow furrowed, now. "Disneyland isn't *on* the way to Los Angeles. Nor, strangely enough, on the way back here *from* Los Angeles."

"So? You got someplace else to be?"

"I--" Wesley stopped, and glanced over towards the other soon-to-be children. "There isn't any reason why we should do anything...out of the ordinary."

Gunn nodded. "Uh-huh. What you *mean* is, it wouldn't be fair to go have fun without inviting the other rugrats. That's cool, we can all go." Wes gave him a sharp look -- which meant he knew it would be impossible to beg out of, once the other children were invited. 'Go Gunn' was once again winning. Before Wes could re-word his 'no, no, we needn't', Gunn raised his voice. "Hey, guys, you wanna go to Disneyland with us?"

Wes tried the 'die evil demon' glare on him, again. Still didn't work.

"Hell, yeah!" from Spike, who, to Gunn's surprise, had offered to pay for Willow and Tara's clothes, since they'd paid for his and Xander's. It was only when Wes had pointed out that Spike didn't have a job, so he was actually volunteering *Xander's* money, that it made any sense. Weird sense though, since Gunn still didn't understand why Spike would want to go shopping for kids' clothes.

"Why do you wanna go to Disneyland? You're not tall enough to go on any of the rides anyway," Xander said from behind him, standing on the bottom rail of a clothesrack to loom over his lover's shoulder. Trouble was coming, and it didn't take a vampire-hunter's instincts to sense it. Sure enough, the whole rack started to wobble, and Xander jumped off just in time, before it fell over on them both.

"You two are gonna let those guys raise you?" Gunn asked Willow and Tara, who were backing away from the SpikeandXander sprawl that had resulted from Xander's death-defying leap to safety.

"Oh, I'm not worried," Willow said blithely. Gunn wondered if she had a spell up her sleeve. "Anya will be home soon, and she'll keep...." Her brow furrowed. Gunn could see her thinking it: Anya had already had how many months to get these boys in line?

"Uh-huh. You wanna come down to L.A. with us? Cordelia can go nuts playing babysitter."

Willow smiled. "That's OK. They don't look like much," she sent a dubious glance towards the two guys who didn't seem to be trying hard enough to actually disentangle themselves and stand up, despite the saleswoman who was standing over them, scolding and shouting and asking if they were all right in that 'please don't sue us' tone of voice. "But they clean up nice."

"If you say so." Gunn took a step back from the mess, as Giles, Tara, and everyone else in the whole store, had already done.

"Maybe you two should wait for us at the food court?" Willow was saying, grabbing Spike by the ear and hauling him up.

"Ow! Bloody hell, woman, only Anya's allowed to do that. You're not our mum anymore."

She blinked at him. "You mean I was, before?" Spike muttered something too low for Gunn to hear, and Willow burst into laughter.

"Do I wanna know?" he asked, before his brain had the chance to pop out of his skull and smack him upside the head.

"He said they were playing lost babes in the wood, and we were the nice ladies who took them in and did spells in front of them." She snickered again. "Did I ever tell you what a good imagination Spike has?"

"Did I ever wanna know?" Gunn asked, wondering for the first time this hour, why he'd let himself fall into this kind of life. He coulda been a drug dealer, or a pointman, or something normal. No demons, no vampires, no Spikes trying to convince Wesley that pink was his colour. He had to put a stop to that, if only to prevent Wes from copping out just to avoid looking that silly. "I kinda like him in pink," he said. When Wesley turned an astonished look on him, Gunn leered, nice and slow, up and down Wes' body. "Nothing but pink...."

Wesley blushed.

"Are we done yet? I wanna go into Neiman's and look at real people clothes." Buffy walked up, holding a small purple shirt in her hands, like she couldn't not shop even if nothing fit.

"We can't afford real people clothes at Neiman's," Dawn reminded her.

"That doesn't mean I can't look at them. I have a good imagination too, you know."

Spike, meanwhile, was looking Wesley up and down as well, and appeared to be exercising his own imagination about 'nothing but pink'. Gunn was afraid he'd have to step up and do some vampire or other some serious damage, but Xander kindly stepped up and did it for him, smacking Spike on the butt.

"What, I can't look?"

"You're supposed to be imagining me, naked, not Wesley."

"I *am*, trust me. It's been two bloody weeks stuck in that body, though. Right now I'm imagining Maury Povich naked." There were several, loud, "eeew!"s, and Xander hit Spike again.

Gunn turned back to Wesley, feeling triumphantly sure that now nobody would be weaseling his way out of a trip to Disneyland, and not afraid to let his smug satisfaction show. He noticed that another shirt had found its way into Wes' hands.

"Excuse me, are you...ready to purchase those?" A timid saleswoman stepped up beside him. Apparently the large black man was the least scary looking customer in the suburban white-bread mall store.

"Yeah, we're ready," Gunn told her, since Wes had enough to get him through a couple days, and he was pretty sure Cordelia would purchase the rest as soon as she saw the Tot N' Tiny version. The look of relief on Wes' face almost matched the one the saleswoman's face. When Wesley reached for his wallet, Gunn put a hand on his arm. "No, it's on me."

"That's not necessary-- I can pay for my own clothes, you know."

"Yeah, but I know you had to be talked into this. I'm not gonna make you spend your own money on it too. Chill out." The saleswoman was giving them a confused look-- the 'my own clothes' comment, Gunn supposed. "We like to role-play," he said with a straight face.

"Oh, thank you, Charles," Wes groaned, as his face once again showed off the fact that yes, he did look good in pink.

"What? I'm supposed to tell her you're getting ready to undergo an obscure, ancient ritual where you get turned into a four year old?"

Wesley glared at him. "You could have said they were for my nephew, or that we're adopted a child, or that we're making a donation to a children's shelter." He handed the clothing over as he talked, ignoring the way the saleswoman's hands faltered as she accepted them.

Gunn smiled at her. "They're for our adopted son."

The woman half-smiled, and glanced at the tags. Clearly she was figuring out if the commission was worth it, or if it was suddenly time for her break. "Will that be cash, or charge?" she said, attempting to widen her smile. Good try, but now it looked like her face was gonna break in half.

"Charge," Gunn replied, digging out his credit card as she began to swipe his purchases across the scanner. Behind him, he could hear Willow and Tara still fussing over sizes, and Spike generously offering to buy one of everything Tara wanted in several sizes.

"Yeah, but, you've been off work for two weeks, Xander," Tara was saying.

"Don't worry about it. We've always got plenty of cushion, what with Anya's investments paying off like they do," Xander answered.

"Oo! Enough cushion to buy the double fudge ice cream mocha sundaes?" Willow asked. Gunn shivered. Why *anybody* let that girl consume caffeine and sugar was beyond him.

*****

Gunn had assured him nearly a dozen times. Possibly more, but Wesley had stopped counting around '9'. Even as he'd been about to step forward and touch the statue, Gunn had been there. Saying it again.

Wesley blinked. Stared at his hands. Smaller than they'd been in years. He felt a flutter of something in his stomach, and knew it was time to find out if Gunn *really* meant it. He looked up, and said resolutely, "I want a pony."

Gunn glared, as he'd promised. "I ain't gonna buy you every--- damn. Damn, damn. Somebody take my wallet?"

"Not me!" Spike protested loudly.

"I meant, *would* somebody take my wallet," Gunn said. Wesley giggled. Dear God, he had giggled.

"Oh, in that case, sure." Spike made as if to dip into Gunn's back pocket to get it, and Wesley slapped his hand. "Mine, thank you."

He didn't mean the wallet, and Spike knew damned well he didn't mean the wallet. The vampire just rolled his eyes. "Oh, please, like I'm that desperate."

"You *are* that desperate," Xander told him. "If what you tried to do in the car is any example."

"Excuse me, there are children present," Rupert spoke up. "Far too young to hear about that sort of thing."

"I didn't do anything!" Spike protested, but he walked away from them, towards Xander -- and began demonstrating what he hadn't done. Wesley averted his gaze, quickly -- and heard Willow chant something.

"Hey! You little pint-sized witch, leave my boyfriend's bits where they belong!" Xander yelled, then Willow giggled and Spike shouted something and Tara said something quietly.

Wesley just looked at Gunn. "Shall we go?"

"Yeah -- just don't be doing the eyes thing at me until we get back to LA, you hear me?" Wesley gazed up at him, looking as innocent as he possibly could. "Yeah, that thing."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Well, he had some idea, since it worked for him as an adult, to an extent. He just hadn't tried it in the mirror yet, to see its apparently devastating effects when it came from his smaller version.

Gunn shouldered Wesley's bag of clothes, and turned to the Sunnydale natives. "Two weeks, right?"

There was some nodding, then a small voice said, "Um... oops?"

"Oops?" Gunn repeated. "Is that like 'oops, I can't get Spike's bits to come back down,' which really don't bother me much, or 'oops, there's something I forgot to tell you about how long y'all are gonna be kids?"

Willow looked up innocently at him, and Wesley began to get an idea about the power of the 'Eyes Thing'. "Well, it's not two weeks, it's 'under the waning moon.' "

"Yes, and that's two weeks. We have until the new moon," Wesley said, not sure what Willow was trying to tell them.

She carried the large book she was holding over to him, and handed it to him. Pointing at the lower right corner of the page, she said, "I think...um...maybe not?"

He read it over carefully, and shook his head. "Under the waning moon, is what it says. What am I missing?"

"When first the round moon begins to shrink, then the child becomes the man," she read aloud.

"Yes, so it's poetic. They were ancient Mesopotamians; they couldn't resist it. If you think this is bad, you should read the Epic of Gilgamesh."

"I have. But I don't think it's being poetic, here. I think it means..." Willow gave *him* the Eyes. "The *first* day of the waning moon."

"Oh, dear."

The entire room went silent. Xander turned to Spike and said, "You know, those two sound exactly the same."

Wesley gave him a dirty glare. "I sound nothing like Rupert. And why didn't anyone *mention* that if we changed now we'd have to wait an entire month to change back? Who found this spell in the first place?" He had to pause and take a breath, trying to control himself. He'd been barely willing to do this for two weeks. He was *not* going to remain a child for an entire month.

"Um, that would be me," Rupert admitted, raising his hand. "Sorry."

"You don't sound sorry. You sound delighted to have the chance to play 'lego-maniac'. Isn't there another spell for this?" He began flipping the pages of the spellbook.

"Hey, easy, Wes." Gunn put his hand on the page, preventing him from turning it.

"I didn't figure it out until just now..." Willow said a bit sulkily.

"So you're not even sure? Damn it, I *knew* this was a mistake..." Wesley tried again to turn the page again, but Gunn's hand was planted firmly.

"Don't, you'll rip it. Look, it's no big deal. So we have to wait until...what, the day after the full moon?" he asked.

"Or, um.. we could turn him back today," Willow offered.

That sounded like a fine idea to Wesley, and he was about to say so, when he felt an arm on his shoulder. Surprisingly, it wasn't Gunn's-- it was Angel's. "I'll see what I can do about that pony..." he said teasingly.

Wesley shrugged his shoulder, trying to dislodge Angel's hand. He turned to Willow. "I would prefer to be...um." He looked around the room. "Who is going to perform the spell?"

Willow blinked at him. She turned towards Tara, then Giles, then back to Wesley. The four magic-users among them. All of whom were now under the geas of a spell.

"Oh, just splendid. I going to be fucking four years old forever!" Wesley slammed the book shut, Gunn pulling his fingers away just in time.

"Hey, it's a simple spell. I could do it," Angel protested.

"Or Anya could when she gets home," Xander offered.

"I can," Buffy piped up. "I've done a spell before." She smacked Xander on the arm when he leered at her. "Not that kind of spell, Xander."

"I suppose you'll all yell at me if I say I could do it," Dawn said.

"Yes!" everyone yelled at her.

"Geez, turn one pair of Gucci shoes into an aardvark, and you're banned for life from ever trying another spell..." she grumbled.

"It was a man-eating aardvark!" Spike protested.

"Oh, just because it bit you on the butt...."

"That's not where..." Xander began, and Spike clapped a hand over his mouth.

"We have plenty of candidates, so just calm down, Wesley." Rupert said smugly.

"Fine. Then one of them can perform the spell *now*. I--" And he suddenly found himself rising up in the air, and in Gunn's arms. "What are you--"

"Calm down, relax, chill, man."

Wesley glared at him. "I will calm down, once I'm six foot one, again."

Gunn just glared back at him, with that know-it-all look of his. Normally it made Wesley want to kiss it off him, but right now he felt more like...ignoring him. Violently. He turned and tried to get down out of Gunn's arms, but the frustratingly annoying man wouldn't let him go.

"I ain't puttin you down."

"Charles, I don't want to be a child for a month," Wesley said, in what he hoped was a reasonable tone. "And you're not going to make me. I know you wouldn't take advantage of the fact that you're bigger and stronger than I am, right now, to force me to do something against my will."

Gunn didn't relax his hold, though he said quietly, "That was low, Wes."

"Did it work?"

"You really want to be changed back now, I ain't gonna stop you, and you know it. I'm just not putting you down until you can tell me *why*, without it sounding like bullshit."

He wriggled uncomfortably, knowing that he *could* bullshit his way, if not out of it, at least long enough for Gunn to decide it wasn't worth fighting over. That usually worked. Well, sometimes. Once. It had worked...no, actually that time had been Cordelia's fault, for interrupting their discussion with a vision. He sighed, and lowered his voice, despite the nosy vampires in the room that would overhear him anyway. "I'm going to look stupid."

There was a pause. "So?" Gunn sounded surprised. "In a few days you'll be almost like really four -- you won't care."

"I *will* care. I do, and I-- how ridiculous do I look now?" Being held as if he were a child, talked to and placated as if he were having a tantrum?

Gunn turned him around and looked him in the eyes-- and smiled. "You look like a four-year-old Harry Potter," he said.

"See? I--"

"You're adorable, stupid."

There was a soft kiss on his forehead, then he was being set down. "I'm not sure I want to look stupid and adorable," Wesley said, over the sound of Buffy and Dawn going 'Awwwwww....' "Be quiet," he added. He didn't even need to look over at Xander and Spike to know they were elbowing each other, and preparing to say something not remotely funny. "You too," he ordered.

"Ain't he just the cutest little..."

"You're not too big for me to bite you on the arse," Wesley warned Spike.

Spike's hands flew to the fly of his jeans, and Xander whapped him on the head. "Not in front of...um...." He looked around the room.

"You *don't* look stupid, Wes," Gunn said. Wesley looked up, not sure he believed it, and not sure either that he wanted to be talked out of changing back. He didn't want to be teased for an entire month -- or beyond, if they took pictures they way they'd done for the first four. "Man, you look like a poster boy for kicked waifs," his lover added in an unrepentant tone.

"That's ever so much better." Wesley folded his arms, and considered whether it would be out of character to kick Gunn in the shins, or if he should just hand the spellbook over to Angel. Or Buffy. Or...perhaps he could call Stuart, once they returned to LA.

There was a sigh. "All right." Startled, Wesley looked over at Angel, only to find the vampire leaning down and picking up the spellbook. He began flipping through the pages, looking for the spell.

"Wait!"

Angel looked over at him. "What?"

"Well..." Wesley looked up at Gunn. "If I stay a child..."

"Yeah?"

"Will you buy me a pony?"

"No."

"Will it annoy you if I ask repeatedly, all the way back to Los Angeles?"

Gunn glared at him. Wesley widened his eyes. Angel snickered. "I wouldn't get so cocky, fang-boy," Gunn told him. "Don't think I won't make you babysit. By yourself."

"Hey, after Pointy-Head and Puppy Breath over there, Wesley will be easy."

"That's Puppy Head and Pointy Face," Xander objected.

Gunn was just snickering back at Angel. "Easy, huh? That's it - you get to babysit every Wednesday and Thursday. By yourself. Cordy and I'll go slay demons or something."

"Excuse me? What if I don't want Angel minding me?"

"When does he mind you, now?" Gunn asked.

Wesley sighed, and shook his head. "I mean, watch over me. Not that I need--"

Gunn gave him a surprised look. "You passing up the chance to drive Angel nuts? Man, you feel all right?"

He stopped and considered that for a few seconds. Then a few seconds more. He was fairly sure he managed to squelch the grin that was trying to spread across his face, and keep the stern, thunderous look he'd been trying for earlier. Mostly sure. From across the room, Spike mimed putting a telephone to his ear, grinned evilly, and mouthed 'Call us...'

Angel was making a valiant effort not to blanch any paler than he already was, Wesley noted. "We'll see," was all he said. Then his hand, all by itself, with no orders from Wesley whatsoever, slipped into Gunn's. "Can we go home now?"

"Yeah, we can go home, now."

Buffy spoke up, before they could head for the door. "Can I get a picture, first?"

*****
Part 2:

He managed to avoid any picture-taking, though he knew it was only temporary. Wesley hoped they would, at least, wait until his emotional state caught up to his physical one and he no longer cared. Assuming he would no longer care -- he'd been rather reserved and self-aware even as a child, and he doubted he would be any different during this artificial childhood.

And artificial it might be, but the feeling he was getting simply from trying to look out the window as they drove was disturbing. He was small.

"You sure he doesn't need a car seat," Angel joked. Wesley hoped he was joking. He'd hate to have to slay the vampire before he had the chance to drive him nuts.

"Three and under," Gunn replied, looking at the highway ahead of them.

"Yeah, but he's awfully..."

"Close to parts of you that you probably don't want kicked?" Wesley finished. He was pressed up against the passenger side door so that he could be in the seatbelt, and Angel, who wouldn't be all that injured if he went flying through the windshield, sat next to Gunn.

Small, was what Angel was going to say. Smaller than the average four year old, even. Wesley found himself having to resist sticking his tongue out at the vampire for being so bloody tall, as if he just had to make the comparison even more obvious.

"Don't make me pull over," Gunn warned.

"I was just saying--" Angel began. Then he said, "Ow!" because Wesley kicked him.

"Wanker. I barely touched you," Wesley said immediately, but only because he knew he couldn't possibly have hurt the grown vampire. He couldn't kick that hard, now, if he tried.

"I'll pull over, I mean it. You'll both be walking."

"He started it."

Wesley stared up at Angel, astounded. "I certainly did not! You made an unkind and uncalled-for remark about putting me in an infant's car seat--"

"I would have used a toddler's carseat," Angel interrupted.

"Yes, that's much better," Wesley snorted, kicking him again.

"You know, I could just tie you to the gun rack..." Gunn warned.

"Hey, whatever equipment you two have in your apartment, I don't want to hear about it," Angel said quickly, rubbing his shin.

Wesley blinked, then felt himself blushing as he pictured what Angel undoubtedly didn't really mean. Handcuffs were one thing-- actually buying something besides the bed, to cuff Charles to... Was something he'd have to think about when he was once again fully able to appreciate the idea.

"Gun rack of the truck?" Gunn was saying, not appreciably embarrassed by Angel's misinterpretation. Or Wesley's.

"Is that like 'Tarzan of the Apes'? Because I never understood the deal with-- Wesley? Do you mind?"

"I didn't kick you on purpose," Wesley told him, still wriggling in the seat. "It isn't my fault your bloody hulk takes up too much room."

"What are you doing?"

Wesley wriggled, then frowned. "Nothing."

"Did you drop something?" Angel had leaned over a bit, and was looking at where Wesley's hand was down between the seat and the door.

Wesley pulled his hand free. "No."

Angel raised one eyebrow, and reached one of those freakishly long arms across Wesley, and down to the floor where he'd been fiddling. In a moment, he pulled out the small figure that Wesley had been trying not to let anyone see in his possession.

"Dracula?" He grinned. Wesley wondered if he'd fall for that 'photo of himself on the mirror' trick again, or if --how sad-- he'd have to think up something new. Something involving pink glitter nail varnish and Angel's best leather jacket, perhaps.

"It's not mine," he said quickly, as Angel held up the toy and showed it to Gunn. "Rupert had some insane idea that I might want it, and I couldn't very well turn him down."

"Isn't this the one they were all fighting over?" Angel asked, still eyeing the figure. Wesley made no attempt to take it back. It wasn't as if he'd asked for the thing. He'd only been attempting to fish it out where he'd dropped it, because Rupert would want it back, later.

"Perhaps he thought I would keep it safe from the others," he suggested. He found Angel giving him a bizarre look, then Angel was holding the toy out to him. Wesley took it, and leaned forward to stuff it into the glove compartment where it wouldn't be lost.

He couldn't reach the compartment. Angel opened it without a word, and dropped the figure in. Stared at the other contents for a moment. "I didn't know the raspberry flavor came in twelve packs," was all he said before clicking the cover shut.

Wesley breathed a sigh of relief that Angel hadn't rooted about in there to see what else he could find. He wasn't sure, quite, what they'd left in there, from their last road trip to Mexico.

"It was on sale, too," Gunn said easily.

"Pardon me," Wesley said, as he leaned over Angel's lap. It was a stretch, without undoing his seatbelt -- but with Angel pressing himself backwards out of his way, Wesley was able to reach Gunn.

"Ow! Damn, you're a mean little kid." Gunn rubbed his arm, where Wesley had just pinched him.

Well, they'd *wanted* him to be a child, right? Wesley just sat back and folded his arms in front of him, and let himself feel smug. Gunn was going to get every second of everything he could think of...

"I just missed a golden opportunity, didn't I?" Angel asked. Wesley raised an eyebrow, pictured the position he'd just been in, and glared at Angel.

"Try it, and you'll never have to worry about that Shanshu prophecy coming true," he said through gritted teeth. "I don't care how bloody valuable you are to the end-of-the-world fight."

"Right, no pony for the kid with the death threats," Angel noted. He pulled a little notebook out of his top pocket and wrote something down. Wesley craned his neck to see what it was, and Angel lifted it higher.

"You're deliberately trying to annoy me," Wesley pointed out.

"I learned from the best," Angel said, almost cheerfully. Then he flashed the notebook to Gunn, who looked at it for a second, laughed, then returned his gaze to the road.

Wesley sat back, arms still folded. They were being prats, just because they knew it would wind him up. Well, he would show them. He wouldn't need to ring Spike and Xander to do it, either.

Just because he was small, didn't mean there was anything wrong with his mind -- and he *knew* he was more clever than either of these two. After all, the month they'd spent sneaking in and adding or removing bags of blood each morning from Angel's fridge had been his idea. It had only taken a week and a half before Angel had asked if anyone thought he was losing his mind again.

He started thinking about all the things he might do -- most of which involved getting them to take him someplace public. The 'help, I'm being kidnapped' was crude, but asking kindly looking, older gay men if they wanted to be friends with his daddy...

*****

"Buffy, Tara's hogging the popcorn," Willow shouted from her spot on the couch. Tara gave her a grin, and tossed a piece of popcorn at her. Willow tossed it back.

"Anybody would think you guys had been kids for a week, instead of a few hours," Xander said. He managed not to break his straight face when they both looked at him, agog.

"Excuse me? Mr. Standing In The Corner Half An Hour After I Got De-Adulted?" Willow shot back.

He scooted a bit further out of popcorn range. "I was just keeping Spike company."

"In the opposite corner?"

"You wouldn't *let* us stand in the same corner," Spike reminded her. Xander grinned, and leaned back against Spike's shoulder. A brief trip out by themselves to pick up ice cream had taken the edge off some of that 'haven't shagged in two weeks' tension. Enough to last them through the movie, at least.

And once seven o'clock came around, and Willow and Tara and Giles were dead to the world...maybe they could sneak into the bathroom and take another edge off. Since it was a sure bet that if they did anything in Buffy or Dawn's bed -- no one had told them whose bed they got, tonight -- they would both be dust in the morning. Buffy had mentioned knowing a way to grind up human body parts and dry them out -- informing them of this when he had suggested that if Dawn wanted to sleep alone, he and Spike would be happy to bunk with Buffy.

He and Spike would be keeping the miniature witches at their apartment for the rest of the month, but no one wanted to split up the first night. There was too much 'slumber party havoc' waiting to be had. Hence the movie and popcorn night, although Giles was sitting next to the Lego castle. Every once in a while Xander would catch him sneaking another Lego into place.

"You know, I don't know that 'Die Hard' is actually any more fun to watch as a kid," Tara said thoughtfully.

"Maybe it's just a guy thing," Willow said, looking at Xander. He shrugged.

"Big boom? Yippee ki yay, mother--" Spike began animatedly, and Xander slapped a hand over his mouth at the appropriate spot. Spike stared at it for a moment, and Xander had to stare at it as well. What, the parenting stuff was built-in? Either that, or he'd been taken over by an evil undead hand, like the one in the Wolfram and Hart horror story Angel had told them a few nights ago.

Tara was staring at the screen. "In fact, as a four year old, I find a shirtless Bruce Willis much less interesting."

"You found shirtless Bruce Willis interesting, before?" Willow asked, with an intrigued, very adult tone in her voice.

Xander grinned as Tara ducked her head and stammered, "Well, no, but, um, n-now I find him even l-l-less..."

Xander took pity on Tara, and whapped his best friend with a pillow. She whipped her head around, and narrowed her eyes. Suddenly two pillows flew up and hit *him*. "Hey!" He jumped up off the couch, and leant down. Willow laughed, then squealed as Xander picked her up.

He started to carry her out of the room, and Tara called out, "Where are you taking her?"

He stopped. Reconsidered. Tara was a witch, too.... "Just taking her into the kitchen so she can help carry the ice cream."

He smiled guilelessly, and headed for the kitchen, ignoring the happy cries of "Ice cream!" from everyone in the room. Including Spike, which he *still* was not used to. Vampires were supposed to eat blood, and *only* blood. Not get excited at the thought of frozen sugar.

"You can put me down now," Willow told him when he'd gotten to the kitchen and was standing in the middle of the room trying to figure out how to scoop out seven bowls of ice cream while carrying a witch under one arm. Not to mention the fact that Spike would want Magic Shell. Spike *always* wanted Magic Shell. He said that breaking through the chocolate to get to the ice cream reminded him of breaking through somebody's skull to get to the brains. Which Xander knew was a big fat lie, because Spike didn't even like brains. Livers, yeah, but not brains.

"Xan?"

"Oh, yeah. Put you down. Right." He made absolutely no move to do so, and started about the process of pulling bowls from the cupboard with one hand.

"Don't make me turn you into a frog, mister!" Somehow the threat sounded less threatening in a little girl voice. Xander didn't figure he should tell her that, though. She'd probably take it as a reason to actually try to turn him into a frog.

He started digging around the cupboards looking for chocolate syrup, Magic Shell, or sprinkles. He knew he'd find one if not all three -- he'd trained Dawn well. Er, the monks had.

"Xander Harris! I mean it, put me down!" There was a pause, then a tiny wavering voice said "All the blood is rushing to my head."

"Silver balls? Coloured sprinkles? Or both...hmm...." He got everything down and set it on the counter. He had to adjust his grip on a squirming child before she made him drop her, then considered whether to get down the marshmallows, too. Not quite marshmallow creme, but close.

Then again... he *did* want everyone else in the house besides himself and Spike to fall asleep *eventually*.

"Xander, if you don't put me down I'm gonna yonk on your shoes," Willow warned him.

"I'm not wearing shoes." He lined up seven bowls on the counter.

"I'll tell you where Buffy hid your G.I. Joe..."

"It's in the medicine chest, stuck in the Vaseline canister. Like a *girl* could figure out a decent hiding place," he said scornfully as he tried to open the freezer door. Okay, so maybe a little of his four-year-old-ness hadn't worn off yet.

He heard Willow chant something, and a whooshing noise, before a cutting board flew off its wall-hanger and smacked him on the butt.

"Don't make me drop you, Miss Rosenburg," he said in his best Ms. Murtle, kindergarten teacher, voice. It was frightening that, even now, he could still imitate her voice.

He did, however, suddenly discover he was going to have to put her (Willow -- not Ms. Murtle) down. He had the ice cream out of the freezer, and had the ice cream scoop - but there was no way he could scoop the ice cream one handed. On the other hand, his butt was stinging. And not in a good way. While he tried to decide if he wanted to call Spike in here to a) take Willow or b) scoop ice cream, he reached around with his free hand, and tickled Willow.

She screamed loud enough to wake the dead; however, no one came in from the living room to see what was happening. "Poophead," she said after a few seconds of trying to get her breath back.

"Dogbreath," he answered easily.

"Tara doesn't think I have dogbreath," she said as he thought deeply about whether he could brace the ice cream carton against something and scoop one-handed after all.

"Tara wasn't around when you ate a Milk Bone on a dare from Aura Masterson." He couldn't see her face, but he would bet his next month's paychecks that she was sticking her tongue out at him. God, this was fun.

"Sometime while I'm still young and beautiful, please?" echoed in from the living room.

"Who said you were beautiful?" Xander called back to Spike. He tried pushing the carton up against the side of the fridge and scooping. It worked as far as that went -- but then he was holding the scoop the wrong way to tip the ice cream into the bowl.

However, as predicted, Spike came storming into the kitchen. "Who says I'm not beautiful?" he demanded.

Xander looked over his shoulder. "Can you hold the carton?"

"Eh? Oh, sure. Like a holding the tiger's tail, innit?" Spike sauntered over and held the carton out away from the fridge-side, so that Xander could scoop from the other side of it - and thus not have to turn his wrist backwards to drop the ice cream into each bowl. "Um, this isn't enough ice cream for *me*, much less the rest of you lot."

"There's three more gallons in the freezer. But one of them is pineapple sherbet." The gagging noise made Xander grin. "Willow, does that mean you'd like some? A huge bowl of pineapple sherbet with no toppings?"

"Keep in mind that I'm gonna be living with you for the next month," she said. "I can make sure you guys have as few opportunities to 'go out for ice cream' as possible."

"We already went out for ice cream, nyah nyah."

"Where'd you go, Alaska?"

No, to the parking lot behind the A&P, with the big dark carport. Which was utterly beside the point. Little witches shouldn't know about such things. Xander put two more scoops in his own, Spike's and Buffy's bowls, and one more in Dawn's. Then, out of the generosity of his heart, he gave Willow an extra scoop too. It had nothing to do with hoping they ran out of ice cream and had to go out for more.

"You wanna give Wendy and the Mini-Ripper some of the pistachio?" Spike asked, as he put the first carton of ice cream away.

"Yeah -- and put the caramel sauce on Dawn's." Xander grinned when Spike gave him a 'duh, do I look like I haven't been stealing bites from Dawn's bowls of ice cream for the last year or what?' look.

"Can I have silver balls?" Willow asked.

"Um, I hate to be the one to tell you this, Wills, but when you grow up you're gonna have boobies, not balls." A moment later he added "Ow!"

He looked up at Spike in shock. Spike was looking at his own hand, as if it, too, had been taken over by the evil spirit of Parenthood. Xander used his free hand to rub his butt, and refrained from sticking his tongue out at Spike. Not Spike's fault he'd managed to hit exactly the same spot Willow had gotten. But then Spike smirked, and said smugly, "Shouldn't talk like that in front of the kiddies," and Xander didn't bother refraining.

"Are you saying I don't have balls?" Willow said in a voice that had a totally different kind of warning in it than the 'yak on your non-existent shoes' warning.

Xander sprinkled silver balls over Willow's dish of ice cream. "You do now."

"Good answer," Spike told him, a relieved tone in his voice. Xander raised an eyebrow at him.

"Don't tell me you're afraid of a little witch?" He turned slightly, so he could dangle said little witch in front of Spike.

"I am when she can do things to you that mean I won't have any more ice cream for a month! Er, not counting when Anya gets home."

"Weenie." Xander sniffed in disdain. He should have handed Willow off to Spike, and done the ice cream by himself.

"Not if you don't put me down, Mr. Harris."

He picked up her bowl of ice cream and handed it to her. "Here, hold this." Should keep her hands occupied for a few minutes, anyway. Spike grinned approvingly, then managed, somehow to balance four bowls in his own arms. Xander grabbed Tara's, then realized that his own was still on the counter. "Um... Willow?"

"Dream on," she said smugly, already digging a spoon into her own bowl-- and how she managed to balance it while being carried under someone's arm, without having her eyes turn black from the major mojo, he'd never know.

"Fine, I'll leave it." He followed Spike back into the living room, handed Tara her ice cream, and, finally, plopped Willow back on the couch. Then he turned around and headed back for the kitchen.

"Going out for ice cream by yourself?" Willow asked snottily.

Spike jumped up and came after him. "Nope, I'm gonna go along and watch."

"You're going to watch?" Giles looked up at them from where he'd been re-building one of the turrets, having given up all pretense at watching the movie.

"Yeah, Xander shouldn't have to go for ice cream by himself, not when I'm around." Spike slung his arm around Xander's shoulders, and grinned.

Giles simply stared at them for a moment, then he sighed and shook his head. "I don't know why I make the attempt to understand a word you say."

"Because you love us," Xander replied. "Especially when we tell you we left the pirate cove Legos at our apartment." Giles gave him a dirty look. Xander laughed and went back to the kitchen to rescue his ice cream before it melted.

*****