Cordelia tried not to sigh with impatience. She'd voted to stop for supper, as well. She just hadn't had any idea it would be this difficult.

"I don't *want* a kid's meal," Wesley was saying. For the fortieth time. She didn't understand why Gunn didn't just buy him what he wanted. Who cared if they threw half of the food away?

"But it has everything you're asking for," Gunn pointed out. Again. If this is how it usually went between them, Cordelia was no longer surprised why they only ever went out to eat to the same one of three restaurants. If you could call an English pub, a pancake house, and Denny's, restaurants.

"You think this will take much longer?" Angel asked her, leaning against the counter beside her.

She nodded. "Oh, yeah. Taco Bueno is open 24 hours -- we'll be here."

"Why didn't we go through the drive through, and just order the first thing on the menu?"

Cordelia gave him a look that communicated clearly just what a dumb question that was. "Because Wesley said 'I want to go inside'."

"Ah. Good point."

Wes was sitting on the counter, his chin stubbornly stuck in the air. "I don't want my nachos in Pokemon shapes. I want nice, normal, non-animated nachos."

Cordelia leaned over, inspiration striking. "So why don't you get the kid's meal, and I'll trade nachos with you? I don't mind Pokemon-shaped chips."

Wesley started to argue with her, then stopped. "Er--" He frowned, like he was desperately trying to come up with something wrong with the arrangement, but couldn't. "I suppose," he said at last.

Cordelia felt like cheering. And it would be a damn fine cheer, given how good she was at it in high school. But she wasn't quite dressed for it, and Wes might take it the wrong way, so she settled for smiling.

"But I want an adult-sized drink," he told Gunn, sternly.

"You got an adult-sized stomach to hold it?" Gunn asked.

"Gunn, for god's sake, just buy him a regular soda," Cordelia said.

"I don't want soda, I want iced tea. Not that it's anything like real tea, but it's better--" He'd stopped, because Angel was holding out a cup. Regular adult-sized, with tea in it. Wesley smiled. "Thank you. Now, will someone help me down?" Gunn grabbed him under the arms, and lifted him down. Wesley strode over to the napkins and straws were kept, and looked over at them. "Would someone please get me a straw?"

Cordelia walked over and grabbed four straws, and held one out to Wesley.

"You two are gonna spoil him rotten," Gunn said.

"Excuse me?" She turned on him. "Since when is handing a straw to a *polite* young man, spoiling him?"

"And who took him to Hawley's Museum, three days in a row?" Angel put in.

"That wasn't spoiling him-- I was practicing my dinosaur wrangling," Gunn protested.

"Which accounts for Day One, but since you brought three remote control dinobots home with you that afternoon, Days Two and Three land you smack in the spoilers' club," Cordelia put in.

"Day Two was 'cause I forgot to take enough money with me to buy the marble sets, on Day One," Gunn said firmly, sitting Wesley in the booth next to him. Wesley's chin was only a few inches above the top of the table, but *nobody* had the balls to suggest a booster seat. Not even Cordelia.

"And Day Three?" Angel asked smugly.

"Day Three was... help me out here, Wes."

"You were spoiling me," Wesley replied, picking up a perfectly normal nacho and putting it in his mouth.

"I was *not*!" Gunn said, giving Wesley a glare like he thought Wesley was looking. Wesley was looking at his child-sized burrito, and picking at it.

"What's wrong, now?" Cordelia asked.

"It has lettuce on it," Wesley said, sounding disappointed.

"Did you ask for no lettuce?" Gunn pointed out, making no move to get out of the booth to allow Wesley to carry it up to the counter to complain. Or do so himself, which was what Wesley was obviously hoping for, given the pitiful look he was giving Gunn.

"Lettuce is good for you," Cordelia told him. Then she decided she needed some fresh air, because Wesley was *not* really four, and knew perfectly well how sadly lacking in nutrition the iceburg lettuce was.

Wesley just picked at the burrito, pulling off tiny strands of lettuce, one at a time. No one moved to do it for him. Cordelia glanced at Angel, then Gunn, and saw them very determinedly not watching. Wesley got a piece of lettuce stuck to his finger, and tried to shake it off. Once, twice, then three times -- still stuck to his finger.

"God! Here, geez!" Cordelia reached over with a napkin and wiped the lettuce off. When she leaned back, she found Gunn and Angel smirking at her. She opened her mouth to yell at them, then thought better of it. All she had to do was wait a few minutes, after all, and they'd do something even more Wesley-whipped, and she could prove that she was the bigger woman. By laughing her ass off.

So she simply smiled at Wesley again, and bit into her taco. A few minutes later, sure enough, Wes was leaning forward, trying to drink out of his straw, which was about level with the top of his head. He said nothing, simply craned his neck and tried to tilt the cup without putting so much weight on the top that the lid came off. After the second time he almost poked himself in the eye, Gunn sighed, and shifted Wesley onto his lap, where Wes was almost tall enough to eat like a normal person. Cordelia raised an eyebrow.

"What, I'm gonna let him lose an eye at Taco Bueno?" Gunn said defensively.

"Did I say anything?"

"Yeah, you raised an eyebrow. In Cordelia-speak that means 'nyah, nyah, told you so'."

Cordelia was tempted to explain otherwise, when Wesley suddenly lost his grip on his burrito, and it slid sideways. "Be careful!" Cordelia was saying, reaching forward to stop the food from sliding onto the floor. Not that she'd had a chance of stopping it...unlike some vampires, who were now holding a burrito in their hands and setting it back on the table.

"I've had a lot of practice catching Cordy," Angel explained with a shrug.

"It wasn't my fault -- my seat moved," Wesley explained, craning his head upwards. Cordelia wondered if he could glare, from that position.

"Sorry," was all Gunn said. Cordelia waited a moment, to make sure nothing *else* was going to happen, then resumed eating her taco.

She got one bite in, before Wesley sighed. When he looked up from his lettuce-picked burrito, he found three pair of eyes watching him. He seemed startled by the attention, which made Cordelia want to snort. Yeah, right. "Is there something fascinating about my burrito?" he asked.

"You sighed," Angel explained.

"Is there something fascinating about my breathing? Aside from the fact that you don't do it anymore?"

"Um...no. Guess not."

Wesley nodded, and went back to staring at his burrito. Then he sighed again.

"Wesley, is there something you need?" Cordelia asked tentatively. Gunn crossed his eyes at her, over Wesley's head.

"Oh, no. I was just thinking that this might be nice with cheese on it."

Gunn looked down at him. "Then why didn't you order the cheese burrito?"

Wes frowned. "They had a cheese burrito?"

"Wes, you can still read the menu," Gunn reminded him. Cordelia wondered if being with Wesley nearly 24 hours a day, for the last seven days, had numbed Gunn's brain.

Sure enough, Wesley countered with, "I couldn't *see* the menu. You sat me down on the counter facing away from it."

"And you couldn't turn around?"

Wesley started to argue, then just nodded. "You're right. I should have ordered the cheese burrito. But as I'm stuck with this, I shall have to eat it."

"Don't look at me," Cordelia said. "I'm not getting up to buy him another burrito."

"Did I ask you to?" Gunn asked her. It didn't stop him from making that 'pleasepleaseplease' face, but he didn't do it as well as Wesley did. Four-year-old Wesley, at any rate. Cordelia was suddenly glad they hadn't both decided to become four year olds.

"No, no, Charles is right. It would be a waste to purchase another burrito, when this one is perfectly...fine...." He pulled another strand of lettuce off his burrito.

"They should put you in a commercial," Cordelia told him. "You really do look pathetic." Wesley glared at her -- then smiled in surprised delight when Angel came back to the table and handed him a wrapped burrito. "Wimp," Cordelia told him. "Didn't sitting for Spike and Xander teach you anything?"

"Taught me when to give in," he said simply.

Gunn said, "Which was whenever one of them blinked at you, I bet."

Angel was giving Gunn his 'not going to dignify that with an answer' face-- which meant he was gonna hold out another two seconds, then say something dorky. "So what. They were cute, and I love 'em," he said after two point five seconds. All three of them stared at him in shock. "Um, I may have been possessed when I said that," he said after another second.

They were still staring at him.

"What?" Angel growled.

"You're eating Cordelia's taco," Gunn said.

Angel looked down and registered that he had, in fact, picked up Cordelia's taco and was about to bite into it. He put it down quickly. Cordy snickered. "No, be my guest. You want something to shove in your mouth besides your foot, go for it. I can always get Wes to give you the big puppy eyes and make you go get me a new one."

"No, that's okay--"

"I insist. After all, you got your undead germs all over it. Not like *I* want it anymore. Or were you just picking it up because you were *nervous* ?" Cordelia challenged.

Angel scowled, and picked the taco back up. "Fine. I'll try it. Can't kill me, after all."

He had just bitten into it when Wesley looked up and asked innocently, "Does this mean you love *me*, too?"

It was to Angel's credit, Cordelia thought, that he didn't even hesitate before saying "Of course, Wes." He took another bite of taco -- probably to keep from saying anything else. Cordelia was glad, because she'd been perfectly ready to stomp on his foot if he'd done anything to ruin the look that had appeared on Wesley's face with those words.

Wesley rubbed his nose, and picked up his cheese burrito. "I need some hot sauce," he said a moment later, sounding a bit subdued, as if he weren't really just saying it in order to make someone jump when he said 'frog'.

"Here," Cordelia said, handing him over a couple of packets she'd gone to fetch. Then she gave Gunn a dirty look. "What?"

"Welcome to the club. You want a membership card with that?"

"How is hot sauce *spoiling* him?" she demanded, and tried to go back to eating, then realized no one had gone to buy her another taco.

She glared at Angel, who said around a mouthful, "This isn't bad. I think I wanna try some hot sauce." He reached over to pick up one of the packets in front of Wesley, and Wesley looked at him, stricken. Angel's hand froze. "Um. I'll go get...."

"Get me another taco while you're up there, huh?" Angel looked back at Cordelia as if to say 'and your legs got broken when?' -- but he obviously decided to err on the side of his own continued existence, and simply nodded. As he walked away, Cordelia stuck her tongue out at his back. "Cha-ching," she said with a smile. "Ba-da-bing."

"Is that supposed to mean something?" Wesley asked curiously.

"Yeah, it means you're too old and too British to get it, so eat your burrito, gramps." She thought he was going to protest for a moment, then he suddenly smiled, like he'd figured out that for once, no one was teasing him by saying he was too young for something.

Angel returned to the table with three more tacos, a handful of hot sauce, and a large order of cinnamon crisps, the last of which he placed in front of Wesley. They all looked at him. "What?"

"Did we say anything?" Cordelia asked, reaching for two tacos. "Er, unless two of them are yours?" She'd been teasing, but Angel's sheepish expression said that yes, they had been. "Oh, my, god. Angel! You like cheap greasy tacos? Your first human food in forever, and it's *tacos*?"

"Maybe it's just an association," he said, as he picked one up.

"Association?" Cordelia narrowed her eyes. Angel looked too guileless to be trusted.

"Well, they make me think of you," he said.

She told herself it was a line and she ought to be annoyed. But she couldn't make herself stop smiling long enough to say so. She was able to when she heard Wesley and Gunn snickering. "What?" she demanded of them.

They didn't say a word, just grinned and ate their food. Until she turned her attention back to her own taco, which didn't taste all that greasy, to be honest. Then she heard Wesley sing, "Cordy and Angel, sitting in a tree...."

"You are so dead, mister, if you finish that phrase." Wesley gave her the big, 'who me?' eyes. She shook her head. "I'm not falling for it. You keep your mouth shut and finish your burrito -- and *don't* tell me that's logically impossible. Do it, so we can get out of here."

The 'who, me' eyes went away -- and were replaced by kicked-puppy eyes.

"Oh, god, I never thought I'd beg for a vision...."

"Speaking of," Angel said, looking up from his taco. "You didn't get any that you might have forgotten about, right? About whoever sent Giles that statue in the first place, or..." He shrugged, stopping short of mentioning recent events. "Anything like that?"

Cordelia looked at him like he was an idiot, which he was. "Like I'd ever *forget* a giant freakin' migraine-inducing vision?"

He had the grace to look sheepish. "No. Of course not. That was stupid. It's just bugging me. All the supernatural firepower we have on our side, and we know *nothing*."

"We know whoever's behind it doesn't mean us any permanent harm," Wesley said. He had the last bit of burrito in his mouth when they all started staring at him, so his 'what?' came out as "Whadb?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Cordelia said automatically. Then she blinked. "How do we know that?"

"Well," he said after dutifully swallowing his food. "I should have said 'immediate harm,' I suppose. But it seems to equal out to the same thing. Of all the things anyone would send to Rupert and his group, there could have been many more dangerous objects. Why send something that, at worst, simply resulted in a bit of insanity, and at best, a great deal of enjoyment for most of the parties involved?"

"A 'bit' of insantiy?" Cordelia asked. "Who's insane, who wasn't before?"

"I simply meant, there was the possibility of someone touching the statue who wasn't able to cope." He closed his mouth and seemed to be trying not to say something. Then he got that Eureka look on his face. "We should look into the path the statue took, as it was being shipped to Sunnydale, to find out if there were any peculiar incidents--"

"Already done," Cordelia interrupted him. "We finished that this morning, while you and Angel were playing with the marble things."

"You were playing with my marbles?" Gunn demanded. Then, "That didn't sound right."

Wesley laughed, and Cordelia forgot what else she'd been about to say. It wasn't that she'd never heard him laugh, before. He'd laughed a lot, since he'd become friends with Gunn. But he'd almost stopped laughing entirely, once he'd become a kid again. Until today, when she'd heard him laugh twice. She found Gunn watching her, with a knowing look on his face.

"Yeah, he's adorable," Angel said, in the thickened Irish brogue he hardly ever used. Wesley suddenly realized they were all watching him. He scowled.

"Shouldn't one of you have a camera, or something?" he said bitterly, though it sounded to Cordelia to be mostly faked. Another improvement.

"Actually," Cordelia said, as she reached into her purse.

"I was joking!" Wesley dove under the table with his cinnamon crisps.

She laughed. "So was I, sucker." He peeped his head tentatively back above the table after a few seconds, and she showed him the stick of sugarless gum she'd retrieved from her purse. "Hey, you guys may want to have bean-breath all night, but some of us are going to be minty-fresh."

"For sitting in a tree?" he asked, wide-eyed. She stuck out her tongue at him, and he laughed again. "No thank you, I only french-kiss my boyfriend."

"And you thought 'playing with your marbles' sounded wrong?" Cordelia said to a suddenly-choking Gunn.

"I didn't mean it sounded wrong *that* way. I meant it sounded wrong in an 'I'm insane' kinda way." Gunn looked around, then frowned at Wesley. "You're not trying to get us thrown out, are you?"

Wesley looked back at him with the wide, innocent eyes Cordelia was so glad she had on film. It meant she could sit back and enjoy the sight, now, without diving for her camera. "Get us thrown out?" Wesley repeated.

"Everyplace I've taken you, you've told some stranger that I'm your boyfriend."

Cordelia laughed. "He has not!"

Gunn turned to her. "He *has*! I swear, I'm waiting for social services to show up on the doorstep and arrest me for child abuse."

"You're exaggerating, Charles," Wesley said in that stern voice that made Cordelia want to giggle.

"You told the museum docent," Gunn said. "And that lady on the bus, the cashier at the grocery store, the telemarketer who called the hotel...."

Wesley was looking innocent again. Cordelia dug into her purse, anyhow. Who cared if she already had that expression on film a thousand times? It was just too cute to pass up.

"But I can't ever say it when I'm an adult," Wesley explained. "Don't you ever feel like being able to tell people?"

Gunn opened his mouth to argue, and didn't say a word. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and handed it to Cordelia. "What's this for?" she asked.

"He's gonna ask me to buy him a pony. Don't give me back my wallet, when he does."

"I am *not* going to ask you for a pony," Wesley protested, the poster-child for aggrieved innocence. Cordelia smirked, and started to hand Gunn back his wallet. Gunn put up a blocking hand.

"Uh-uh." He glanced down at the top of Wesley's head, and waited.

Wesley waited. Cordelia waited. Angel wisely shoved his other taco into his mouth, and pretended he wasn't waiting. Finally Wesley said, "I could eat another order of cinnamon crisps, perhaps. A small one."

Gunn glared at Wesley's skull, then at Cordelia, who was still holding out his wallet. Finally he reached to snatch it back, but Cordelia pulled it away. "No, you're right. I shouldn't let you give in..."

The look on his face was enough to send her scrambling for her camera, if her hand hadn't already been full with his wallet. She caught the look on Wesley's face, next, and she returned the grin. "You aren't even pretending to be doing this on accident, are you?" she demanded.

Big eyes. God, those things were dangerous. "Doing what?"

"'Doing what'," she repeated, then laughed. "Wesley, you're being spoiled."

Still with the big eyes. He slowly shook his head, and somehow that made the eyes-thing even more...eyey. "No, I'm not."

"Oh, right." That sarcastic comment was from Angel. The big-eyes turned on him, and he added quickly, "Not that there's anything wrong with that."

Cordelia sniffed. For a vampire, he had *no* backbone. "You *are* being spoiled. Admit it."

"I'm not," he insisted. "If I were being spoiled," and he swung that deadly gaze on Gunn, "I'd have another bag of cinnamon crisps."

Gunn looked guilty, then looked guilty for looking guilty, then looked helplessly at Cordelia, who just snickered. Finally he said "If I get you cinnamon crisps, I'll have to put you down." Wesley just looked back up at him with the eyes of doom. Gunn turned the pleading look back at Cordelia. "God. Cordelia, would you *please* get Wesley another bag of cinnamon crisps? And never let me have my wallet back?"

Cordelia shook her head. When Gunn turned his *own* big-eyes on her, she laughed. "Won't work, buddy." Granted, it would only not work because she was on the *inside* of the booth, trapped by Angel, the taco-eating vampire.

Which was where Gunn turned his eyes next. "Hey man, you owe me."

Angel looked up at him, taco paused halfway to his mouth. "I owe you for what??"

"Not telling Cordelia that you hide her cookies in your pockets and pretend you ate them?" Wesley offered.

"I don't do that!" Angel sputtered. "I tell her right up front that I don't eat, and..." He looked down at his taco. Then he snatched Gunn's wallet out of Cordelia's hand and hurried away.

Cordelia watched him go, and wondered what sort of torture was best to use on a 250 year old vampire who used to torture people for amusement. Bake him more cookies, perhaps? Stand there and make *sure* he ate one? "Stupid vampire," she muttered. "My cooking isn't *that* bad." When she turned her glare away from the pretending-he-doesn't-know-he's-being-glared-at vampire in line at a Taco Bueno, she found Wesley looking at her, uncertainly.

But he turned to Gunn and asked, "Was I not supposed to tell her?" He sounded sincerely uncertain, not like he was still teasing them.

"She knows," Cordelia answered for him. "She's still annoyed, though. He told me he *liked* my cookies." She gave Angel's back another glare, and could tell he was pretending he didn't have vampiric hearing.

Wesley looked back up at Gunn, again, who said, "Don't worry about it." He pressed a kiss on Wesley's forehead, and Cordelia had to stifle the urge to whip out her camera. Stifle it, only because the kiss was already over and any photo she got now would be of the two of them flipping the bird, or something worse.

She opened her mouth to say something, and Wesley looked at her. She closed her mouth again. "Maybe we could make him wear sunglasses?" she suggested to Gunn. Wesley looked hurt, so she hastened to add, "Hey, you'd look cute. Sort of that mini-rebel look. Have you ever seen those posters of babies on Harley's?"

Which made the Wesley-eyes swing back in Gunn's direction. "Speaking of which..."

Gunn shook his head. "No. Absolutely no way on earth."

Cordelia raised her eyebrow, now that she was safely out of Wesley's firing line. "What?"

"I am *not* gonna take him riding on the motorcycle."

The look of sheer superior logic on Wesley's face was priceless. "But it's *my* motorcycle."

"But you're *four*, and it's not safe."

"They make motorcycle helmets for four year olds."

"They make nipple-rings for four year olds too, but I'm not gettin' you one of those, either."

Wesley blinked up at him. "They do?"

"NO!" Gunn said. "No, no, no, no no."

Cordelia shook her head, and accepted the wallet back from Angel, who was sitting down with a tray -- with a bag of cinnamon crisps and two tacos. Wesley was still staring at Gunn, reaching out a hand and accepting the crisps Angel handed over, without even looking. "Please?" Wesley asked.

"No."

"But I *want* one."

"No."

Cordelia watched as Wesley wriggled, a little. Pushed his face closer to Gunn's, and said, "Please?"

"Why didn't we bring the video camera with us?" Angel whispered in Cordelia's ear.

"Because Wes pouted when we tried," she whispered back.

"Man, he's gonna be dangerous when he's fully regressed," Angel whispered.

"I think he's regressed enough," she whispered. Which they all already knew, after the phone call from Sunnydale. They'd decided not to tell Wesley about it, when Gunn had had to spend half an hour calming Wesley down after he'd missed a documentary on Ancient Italy on the Discovery channel.

So Wesley's suppositions about Bad Guy X not having done anything really dangerous were true-- as far as he knew. Trying to kidnap Willow and Tara in the middle of the mall went beyond the 'bit of insanity' Wes had described, but they weren't about to scare him with that news. Instead, they were just being careful. They'd agreed that keeping him at the hotel at all times would be just too mean -- whether to themselves or Wesley, Cordelia wasn't sure.

They couldn't deny him the pleasures of being a kid-- going out and playing, visiting all the places any kid would want to see in L.A., just when he'd finally relaxed enough to be able to enjoy them. And they couldn't deny themselves the fun of seeing him enjoying things -- though if it had been just that, vs. keeping Wesley safe, he would have been in the Hyperion under lock and key right now, instead of sitting in Taco Bueno pretending he wanted Gunn to buy him a nipple ring.

The compromise was simple-- safety in numbers. They all went out together. Wes wouldn't notice anything weird, since he was expecting them to all want to fuss over him anyway. And with one vampire, one insanely protective lover, and one dead-shot with a tossed high heel as his bodyguards, Wes would be as safe on the town with them as he would cooped up in the hotel.

Whether *they* would be safe from those big, blue eyes...well, they could always make Wesley pay them back, once he grew up again. She settled back in the booth to eat Angel's fourth taco, and watch Wesley try to wheedle a bike ride and nipple ring out of Gunn. It really was more entertaining than the movies.

*****
Part 15:

Dawn watched as Giles sat on the small horse, and it moved slowly back and forth. The look on his face was priceless -- or rather, it would cost about 5 cents to develop the picture she'd just snapped, and 2 cents a print for copies... It wasn't a typical four-year-old 'wheee! I'm riding the horsie!' look. It was a 'someone just stuck a lemon in my mouth and told me it was ice cream' look. When he caught her watching him, the look deepened. "This is it?" he asked.

"Well, yeah. What'd you expect for a quarter -- the Kentucky Derby?" She sucked on her raspberry slushee and smirked. Giles frowned, then slid off the horse as it came to a stop.

To the next three children in line, he announced firmly, "That experience is vastly overated." The two girls and a boy looked up at their mother, who gave Dawn a peculiar look. She just grinned and shrugged, and handed Giles his slushee back.

"You wanted to ride it," Dawn reminded him as they walked away. She could hear the other kids clamoring 'me, next!' so apparently Giles' warning hadn't any effect.

"Because whenever I saw children riding one of those things, they appeared to be having a great deal of fun." He glanced back, with a thoughtful look on his face. "Do you think it would make a difference if I tried it again in a few days?"

"You mean, after you've regressed some more?" Dawn shook her head. "You're as regressed as they get." She took a slurp of her own slushee, and wished again that she'd gotten the grape. And it wasn't like she could guilt Giles out of *his* grape slushee, even without Buffy nearby to scold her for it.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Giles demanded. His lips were purple.

"I think your sense of adventure is more experienced than a regular four-year-old's. Nothing short of a real horsie ride will make you think you're riding a horsie."

"You do know you needn't use the word 'horsie', Dawn."

Dawn giggled. She knew she shouldn't, but his lisp *was* adorable. "You want a Dawnie ride?"

"Ex-CUSE me?" Giles' eyes got bigger than the dogs' in that fairy tale Buffy had read to them last night, about the ones with eyes as big as saucers. Dawn had to giggle again.

"On my shoulders, silly. God, you're a worse pervert than Xander and Spike!"

"I am *not*. And I wasn't thinking anything...perverted. I was just wondering where you wanted me to shove the quarter," Giles said, straightfaced. Dawn stuck her tongue out at him.

"Who's shoving what where?" Buffy asked, coming up behind them with her arms full of shopping bags.

Giles didn't answer her when Dawn pointed the finger of guilt at him. He was too busy jumping up and down. "Oh! Can we go over there?"

"Where?" Dawn looked. All she saw were a bunch of tables, all scattered around a section of the parking lot.

"A *book sale*?" Buffy said. "Giles, you're *four*; you're supposed to be having fun."

Giles gave her a stern look. "I *like* books. A book sale *is* fun."

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather go to the Lions Club carnival?" Buffy asked.

"No. I'm likely to get grabbed, or something. Here there is plenty of space for you to keep an eye out for any suspicious-looking people."

"The only thing suspicious-looking is a four-year-old boy who wants to look at books," Buffy countered. But she was letting Giles drag her towards the book sale. Dawn followed, wondering if they could go to the carnival next, anyhow. Surely a *Slayer* could prevent one small child-like-person from coming to any harm?

"Ow!"

She looked over, and saw Giles sprawled on the asphalt -- after having tripped over a curb. Buffy was on it, though. She grabbed Giles up and was looking at his hands and knees, checking for massive bleeding, apparently, given the look on her face. "Giles, are you okay?"

The first thing Dawn noticed was that those kid-eyes looked twice their actual size when filled with tears, which weren't quite spilling over. "I think I broke my...patella," he said slowly. Looking up at Buffy to see if she believed him. It was all Dawn could do not to applaud. Even though it was mean to take advantage of somebody who hadn't studied in her anatomy classes because she was busy saving the world. Or that was the excuse Buffy usually gave for *most* missed classes.

"Really?" Buffy asked. "Left or right?" She carefully tickled his knees, and Giles giggled in spite of himself. Dawn revised her estimate of her sister's intelligence upwards-- which was unusual. Maybe she was coming down with something? She didn't *feel* sick.

"Well, perhaps it's not broken. Just bruised. It might be difficult to walk on."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "I *offered* you a ride, you know."

"As I recall, I didn't refuse. I merely got distracted." Giles' hand went towards his nose, as if trying to adjust glasses which weren't there. Dawn just held out her hands, and Giles jumped up and took them. She pulled him up, then around onto her back. After a moment to get settled, she gave her sister a smile. "So...book sale, or do we sneak off to the carnival?"

"Book sale," Giles said sternly.

"I think if his patella really *is* broken, we should take him home. Put an ice pack on him and leave him on the couch all day." Buffy sounded serious. It was only because Buffy had used this same tone on *her* more than once, that Dawn knew she was kidding.

"It's not that broken. I want to look at the books." Giles didn't seem to believe her, either.

"I don't know..." Buffy began.

"Dawn, I'll give you ten dollars if you head over towards the book sale."

"Deal!" Dawn walked away from Buffy, towards the books.

Buffy followed, casting stern glances at Dawn. "You know you shouldn't let him bribe you."

Dawn blinked at her sister. "Why not? He does it all the time when he's old."

"I'm not old!" Giles said loudly into Dawn's ear.

"Say it, don't spray it, Giles," Dawn replied calmly, wiping her ear off. "You were born before the Super Nintendo was invented, therefore, you're old. It's okay. Buffy's old, too."

Giles seemed to consider this for a minte, as he leaned down and pointed at a book he wanted. When Dawn handed it to him, he studied it for a minute, then said, "I don't bribe you all the time."

Dawn kept her mouth shut, though she rolled her eyes. Sure he didn't. Which was why her savings account was twice as large as it should have been based on the pitiful allowance Buffy gave her. He'd *never* said anything like 'Dawn, if you pretend you never saw that, I'll give you ten dollars and drive you to the mall...'

Then she realized Buffy was still watching the two of them, with narrowed eyes. Too late, Dawn tried an innocent smile. Buffy folded her arms in front of her, and said, "*You* are buying his books. All the books he wants."

Dawn gaped at her, then quickly took the book Giles was holding, and checked the tag. Only fifty cents. She gave it back and shrugged. "Fine." The way Buffy smiled, though, made Dawn suddenly doubt she'd get off as scot-free as she hoped.

She knew she wouldn't, when, half an hour later, Giles was telling Buffy to go fetch a basket, or something, and stop complaining. "You've the strength of a Slayer, one would think you could hold a small stack of books easily enough."

"*Small*! Giles, I didn't read this many books in my entire four years in high school."

Dawn could just imagine the look Giles gave Buffy -- she couldn't see it because he was still clinging to her back, and demanding that she pick that book up, or that one, or what about that one over there? She'd realized he was going to spend her entire ten dollar bribe on fifty cent books. Which, if he hadn't grabbed two she wanted to borrow, she'd have started complaining about.

She did almost cheer when he announced that he'd seen everything he wanted to see, and they could pay for the books now. Because by that time, they were heading into the red zone, meaning she was spending her own money on it. Giles waved one hand in front of her face, in Buffy's direction. "I want to hold them."

"You'll just drop 'em on my head," Dawn told him. Then it occurred to her that such might have been his intention in the first place, and she pinched his leg, lightly. "Brat."

"Buffy! Dawn's being mean to me," Giles called.

Buffy turned around, the stack of books in her hand. Dawn rolled her eyes. Buffy looked uncertainly at Giles, and Dawn groaned. He was doing the pout. He had to be. Little middle-aged brat. "Dawn, are you being mean to Giles?"

"Yes, Buffy. I live to torment your Watcher. I have nothing better to do in my life than make Giles cry." She was being sarcastic, of course. Tormenting Giles was a hobby, not a career.

"She pinched me. Hard," Giles put in.

Now Buffy was staring at her again, in that 'watch me be a Mom' way she'd adopted. Still not anywhere good at it as their real mom had been, but Dawn had to give her credit for trying. Of course, if Buffy *really* wanted someone to do the Mom stare at her, she should ask Spike. Not that Dawn was planning on telling her that, of course.

"Dawn, you shouldn't be mean to Giles."

"*What*? You mean you believe him? I didn't do anything!" She considered dropping Giles, but if she did he'd probably *really* break a patella - or his head. "Buffy, if you say 'because he's littler than you' I'm going to tell everyone about that package you got in the mail from Frederick's of Hollywood."

Buffy's eyes went wide.

"Frederick's of Hollywood?" Giles was asking.

"You're too young to know," Dawn told him.

"How dare--" Buffy hissed. "I did not--! It wasn't for me!" she finally managed.

Dawn blinked. "Who are they for, then? Have you got a girlfriend, now, too? Or a boyfriend with tastes I *really* don't wanna know about?"

"I am not telling you anything. You are going to pay for these books and we are *leaving*."

Dawn just watched her for a moment, then nodded. "Yup. Classic mom- maneuver. Skip logic, and go directly for the 'because I said so' orders." She waited until Buffy looked like she'd worked up a delicious, crunchy retort, then added, "Of course, Mom didn't use that move to distract anybody from asking why she was shopping at Frederick's of Hollywood."

Buffy looked positively evil when she grinned and replied, "Actually..."

Dawn stared at her, wide-eyed. "Really?"

"I was looking through her purse for a breath-mint, and found a receipt. She about turned purple."

"Damn! And I missed it? Where was I?" Dawn asked. Then she looked down. "Oh. Stupid question."

"You were at Monica's," Buffy said, with a shrug. "It was the day you two gave her poodle a home perm."

Dawn blinked at her. Then she said slowly, "Sometimes I wonder about the people who came up with my backstory."

"Actually, you had a fairly typical childhood," Giles put in. "If you ignore all the times you encountered demons, vampires, werewolves, and fairies."

"Fairies? I don't remember fairies -- that would have been neat!"

"He means Xander and Spike," Buffy told her.

"Oh." Dawn pouted.

Then she pouted more when Buffy set Giles' stack of books next to the cash register and said to the woman, "She's paying."

"I can't reach my purse," Dawn said, holding onto Giles' legs.

"I can get down," Giles offered.

"You'll fall again," Dawn told him, not letting go.

In a dry voice, Giles said, "I think I can manage to stand still while you purchase my books, and not injure myself."

"I don't have any money," she tried again. "You haven't given me my bribe, yet."

"What about the one I gave you this morning? You haven't spent that all, have you?"

And now Buffy was looking at her like she'd done something evil, again. "What?" Dawn demanded.

"What did he bribe you to do?"

Dawn grinned. "You'll find out. When you least expect it."

It involved Buffy's underwear drawer and putting a big ol' cheesy picture of Spike and Xander grinning into the camera, with Buffy's room as a backdrop, in it. Under her set of days-of-the-week undies. It didn't really matter that Spike and Xander hadn't put it there, and would get in trouble for nothing. Heck, that was kind of the point. Dawn had to hand it to Giles -- his brilliance could be astounding.

Buffy glared at her, and held out her hand. "Money. Now."

Reluctantly, Dawn reached into her purse-- then grinned. "Um... I really *don't* have it. I left my wallet in the car."

"Fine. You can pay for supper." Buffy pulled her own billfold out, and paid the cashier.

"But we're going to Chuck-E-Cheese's for supper," Dawn protested. "We're meeting the rest of the gang and having pizza and playing video games for hours... I don't have that much in my bank account, much less my wallet!"

Buffy gave her half a smile. "Relax. You only have to pay for me, Giles, and yourself. And if you watch *us* play Pac-Man, you'll save money, right?" Dawn tried the little-sister pout, again. It still wasn't working. Maybe she was getting too old.... Buffy was cheerfully accepting a bag of books from the cashier, then gave them a bright smile. "Now, who wants Dawn to buy us ice cream, to spoil our dinners with?"

"We just had slushees!" Dawn felt herself blanch. "Did I just say that?"

"I want pistachio," Giles said, leaning sideways and reaching for the bag of books. Buffy held it out of his reach. "And I want my book on the solar system."

Buffy rolled her eyes, but that didn't stop her from digging through the bag and pulling out the book Giles wanted. "I don't know why you want it now," she complained. "You'll just get carsick if you try to read while we're moving."

"I'm not going to read," Giles announced with much dignity. Dawn noticed that he didn't try to deny that he'd get carsick. Which was a wise move, since they'd already seen the results of him trying to focus on a Latin manuscript while the Range Rover jumped and bounced down the road. It hadn't been pretty.

"Then why do you want the book?" Buffy asked, as she opened the door and Dawn let him down into the back seat.

"I want to start putting the stickers in place," he answered, jutting out his chin. Buffy shot Dawn a grin, and handed Giles the book.

"Are you sure we should be going to Chuck-E-Cheese tonight?" Dawn tried as she slid into the driver's seat. "I mean, taking everybody out in public, someplace crowded like that.... and we still don't know any more about that freak who tried to snatch Willow and Tara."

"I know -- but we can't lock everyone in the basement for the rest of the month." Buffy glanced at Giles, as though thinking they might try. "I'm pretty sure I can keep an eye on Giles at a pizza place well enough, and I challenge *anyone* to get past Spike and Xander, to get at Willow and Tara again."

Dawn giggled as she checked the rear view mirror. "They're such dads."

Buffy laughed with her. "Did they tell you that the papers Angel sent to Spike, that prove he's William Harris, also had adoption papers for Willow Harris, and a birth certificate for Tara Harris?"

"Tell me? I thought Spike was going to burst something, the way he was strutting around. Oh! We should buy them Father's Day cards." Dawn laughed again. "I feel sorry for their kids, if they ever have *real* ones. Any daughter they raise will be spoiled rotten, but *never* get to go out on a date."

"Please, stop," came a pitiful voice from the backseat. Dawn stopped the vehicle, and they both turned around.

"You weren't reading? Giles, are you sick again?"

They saw Giles sitting there, belted in with a child's adapter-seatbelt, holding his planets-and-moons sticker book in front of him. "No. But the thought of Xander and Anya having children..."

"Think of it this way -- Angel will be a grandpa!"

"Technically, I think he'll be a great-grandpa," Buffy corrected her.

Dawn pulled the car back onto the road, and waited until Giles was fully immersed in his book again, before adding, "Of course, you'd be a grandpa, too."

Giles spluttered. "What? I would not. How do you figure that?"

"Well, you think of all of us like your kids, right? So our kids would be your grandkids."

Giles looked at her in the rear-view mirror. Or rather, she looked at him, and he made a face. "I do *not* think of Anya and Xander as my children. Well, possibly Anya. Xander was left on my doorstep by trolls."

"Uh-huh. And what about Spike?' Buffy asked, getting in on the action.

"Spike is old enough to be *my* great grandfather," Giles argued.

"Only chronologically."

"The fact remains, I make no claims on Spike as being any sort of relation of mine. Except possibly an alley cat one's neighbors have fed and one cannot be rid of."

"Which explains why you bought that behind-the-scenes tell-all Passions book for him last Christmas?" Buffy asked.

"It was the cheapest thing I could think of," Giles retorted.

"Cheap would have been buying him cigarettes," Dawn pointed out. "Or a book of matches."

"Except that Anya doesn't let him smoke in the apartment, so he's barely going through a pack a week, now." There was silence from the backseat, then Giles said, "Or so I gather."

"Uh-huh." Buffy gave Dawn a wink. "You've never once called their place to see if Spike made it home before sunrise okay?"

"I never! I was only doing it because Anya was busy and couldn't get to the phone."

Dawn had to clamp her jaw down on her giggles -- she couldn't drive and laugh hysterically at the same time. She knew, she'd tried. Never with Buffy in the car, of course, because she wanted to maintain her driving privileges. And Xander was sworn to secrecy....

When Buffy just kept smirking at him, Giles asked, "Are you certain it's a good idea to go out to Chuck-E-Cheese's?"

"Ah, the classic Watcher-technique," Dawn observed. "Distract them by asking if something mildly potentially dangerous is really a good idea."

"Plus there's the 'repeat a question someone else asked and hope everyone's forgotten about it by now' gambit," Buffy added. "Actually, Giles was never into asking whether it was really a good idea. That might have actually worked. He was more like 'Buffy, I absolutely forbid you to do this.' Which as we know is like a red flag for Slayers."

Giles looked up, an evil expression on his face. "Buffy, I absolutely forbid you to shut up about any of you ever having children, and what relationship I might be to them if you did."

Buffy opened her mouth, then closed it again. Dawn smirked. Buffy pouted-- and Dawn was quickly thankful that Buffy *wasn't* still four. "I want ice cream," Buffy said, in a voice as high and childish as Giles'. It was all Dawn could do not to run off the road.

*****