"Hey..."

Wesley looked up from his book and shot Gunn a small glare. When that produced no effect, he poked his head out of the small cave he'd made of the bedclothes and looked around, so he could give his lover a *proper* glare for disturbing him. "What?" he asked perfectly clearly despite the presence of his thumb in his mouth.

"They're doing the Wolf and Red episodes next. You know, those Droopy ones, where..."

Wesley glanced up at the television that Gunn had dutifully carted up the stairs and installed in their room. "I know that."

"Oh. You just looked kinda into your book, and you said you like Red Hot Riding Hood, so I didn't want you to miss 'em."

"I like when the wolf's eyes pop out of his head. I've seen you do that. Complete with the whistles and the steam coming out the ears. But I'm perfectly aware of what's happening on the television, thank you. They just finished off the Pioneer Droopy cartoon, and the bullfighting one before that."

Gunn was sitting alone in the rocking chair, devoting his full attention to the TV, which still made Wesley's mind boggle. Especially when Gunn shook his head and said, "I still don't see how you can read and watch TV at the same time. Freaks me out."

"Obviously, you read during the adverts and the boring parts."

"Yeah, but how do you know the boring parts are over?"

Wesley rolled his eyes. "You just *do*. Because it stops being boring, of course."

Gunn just gave him one of those 'I know you're not speaking English, because I don't understand a word' looks that he used so often. Wesley just returned his attention to the TV, in time to see a few moments of non-boring cartoon, then burrowed back into the blankets to read.

He felt the bed dip as Gunn sat down behind him. A few seconds later, Wesley said, "Do it and I'll tell Cordelia you want her to make us lunch."

"How the hell can you tell I was gonna do anything?" Gunn sounded aggrieved.

Wesley had to stick his head out of the cave of blankets, again, and looked back at him. "Charles -- if *you* were wrapped in blankets, reading and watching TV, and I had sat down behind you--"

"Yeah, yeah, all right. Caught." Gunn leaned on his elbow, and laced his fingers together as if to show that he *wasn't* going to do anything. Wesley knew he was, but he also knew he didn't mind. He simply couldn't let Gunn get away with not being as clever as possible.

He went back to his book, once more, and began reading about centuries old techniques for ridding villages of ghosts, and how those techniques could not be used on towns with populations greater than ten thousand. It was fascinating socio-economic-paranormal theory, really. "Eep!" He squealed, dropping his thumb and jumping into the air.

Someone had put a cold teaspoon of lime jelly against the back of his neck. Someone who must now die, especially since it had *almost* landed on Wesley's book. Wes opened his mouth to protest, loudly, and Gunn inserted the spoonful of gelatin. It also had whipped cream on it. It was hard to scowl with whipped cream in one's mouth.

Rather difficult to plan the murder of one's smirking lover, as well. Wes licked his lips. *Then* scowled. "You're not going to let me concentrate, are you?"

"On which -- Droopy, or the book?"

"Both. Either."

"Just didn't want you to get bored."

"Ah. I appreciate that." He turned back to his book -- and closed it, and leapt out of the tangle of bedclothes onto Gunn. The cartoon was going to be in boring parts for several minutes, anyhow.

They wrestled on the bed, tickling each other -- for which Gunn most unfairly used his superior size and strength to hold Wesley out of reach -- until Wesley was shrieking so loudly and laughing that he was afraid he'd pass out from lack of oxygen. They only stopped when someone knocked on the door; Gunn sat up, letting Wesley go free, and Wesley crawled up onto Gunn's lap, again, so he'd be within range should Gunn need tickling some more.

"Yeah?" Gunn called out. The door opened, and Cordelia poked her head in.

"Are you two killing each other?"

"Um...shall I plead the fifth?" Wesley asked, looking up at his boyfriend.

"You can't, you're not a U.S. citizen."

"Ah." Wesley nodded, and leant back against Gunn. He was still breathing hard, and he felt better than he had, all morning.

Despite that, as Cordelia asked what their plans for lunch were and Gunn tried to tell her 'tacos' without letting her think he was agreeing that she should *make* lunch, he let his thumb slip back into his mouth. He knew Gunn wouldn't say anything, and he also knew Cordelia had caught him at it twice, this morning, already. No one had said a word, to tease him or chastise him, or even ask him about it. Most importantly, it kept him from crying, so he did it. He felt Gunn's hand on his head, and looked around to see if he could spot Rupert. The bear had lost the tickle war, some minutes previously.

"So, I can make tacos," Cordelia was saying in a false-bright tone of voice.

"No, make Angel go buy some," Wesley spoke up. "He'll buy too many, and we can eat them all afternoon."

Cordelia's smile got a little more genuine, as she considered his suggestion. "Hmm. Less work, more food, *and* I get to make Angel get out of the hotel and stop looking all smug and mysterious about how his date with Lorn went... I don't see a downside here."

Wesley looked at her. "He did go, then?"

"I made him. You didn't want him hanging around here brooding all night, did you?"

Wesley shook his head. "No. I just think maybe I should stay in here for a few more days, then."

She grinned for a second, then frowned. "He's not mad at you, Wes. You know that, right? Nobody's mad at you."

"Well, I did rather ruin dinner."

"Pfft. They went out to get something before the show, and I got to pig out on all the Kung Pao chicken I wanted, with nobody stealing my eggrolls for a change. Now... I can't say Angel's not planning *revenge* -- he did mention something about owing you one. Or eight."

"Eight?! He can't possibly owe me *eight*. I barely did six things which he... er, four that he knows about and two of which I won't claim credit for and can I go back to hiding under the blanket, now?" He asked that last of Gunn, trying not to consciously look too pitiful.

"It won't help. Vampires can detect humans even through cotton."

Wesley looked over at the doorway, where Angel was now standing behind Cordelia. He hoped, for a moment, that Cordelia would bar his way long enough for him to get someplace safe -- behind Gunn, for example. But she simply stepped to one side.

Wesley summoned up his best cute look, but Angel held up one hand. "I actually just came up here to...um, I wanted to find out what...." He sighed, and looked apologetic. "Buffy called, and I was telling her about the phone call last night. She wants to know about the man who called your mother -- they think it might be related to the woman who tried to grab Willow and Tara."

"Someone tried to grab Willow and Tara?" Wesley asked. Cordelia gave Angel a sharp look.

Angel looked sorry, but firm. "We had to tell him sometime. Yeah, there was a weird...incident, I guess you could call it. A woman tried to take the two of them in a department store, and claimed they were her kids. Not just a random crazy -- she had papers, and she knew their names. She caused quite a bit of trouble with the management, before Willow finally got desperate and threw a whammy on everybody so Spike and Xander and the kids could sneak off."

Wesley blinked, not sure what to say. "So that's why you were contacting Bertie Rodgers about papers for Spike. I *thought* it was a weird time to worry about it-- now, after he's grown up again. I just figured you'd suddenly started feeling fatherly."

Angel looked uncomfortable. Actually, everyone looked uncomfortable -- but Angel's at least had an edge of humour to it, as he tried to decide whether he wanted to deny that was part of his motivation, or not. "Yeah, we got papers for all of the kids -- you and Giles too, though only Buffy knew about the ones for Giles. Just in case. But Spike has really needed some decent ID for a long time, and Xander asked, so..."

Wesley waved the rambling explanation away. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Angel didn't reply right away. Cordelia finally sighed and said, "We didn't want you worrying. You're a kid! Or mostly. You're supposed to be enjoying yourself, not worrying about kidnappings."

Wesley frowned.

"If we'd needed you to help us figure out what was going on, we'd have told you," Gunn said. "Like now," he added, sounding proud as he realized they had, in fact, told Wesley because they needed his help. As if Gunn had been in on the decision.

It was difficult to be too upset with them, because Wesley understood why they'd done it. It still rankled, and -- "That's why all three of you have been staying with me, at all times, isn't it? Why we haven't left the hotel unless all three of you are there to chaperone."

This time Cordelia looked sheepish, too. "It wasn't so bad, though, was it?"

No, in fact it had not been. It had been nice, being watched over -- and spoilt -- by his friends. Instead of admitting it, however, he said, "She said it was a man with an upperclass London accent. He knew me, knew them...she thought at first it was Rupert, but she knew he wouldn't-- er, have called." He frowned, though, as he realized, "It might have been Spike. Playing a joke."

Angel's expression turned dark. "He wouldn't have any problem doing the accent -- that's for sure. If it was him, trust me, I'll start feeling a lot more parental. In that 'I get to kick your ass because you're my kid and I can't believe you'd act that way' kind of way. If he really *did* do it." He shook his head. "What am I saying -- he's evil -- of course he'd act that way."

Wesley felt the need to stick up for his partner in Angel-tormenting. "He isn't, really. I mean, not on any kind of global scale, not anymore. He wouldn't have done something like that if he'd known about-- if he'd known what my family are like. If anything, it would've been him saying 'Wesley, have you called your mum lately?' So he could watch me hem and haw about not being a mother's boy."

"You're not a momma's boy," Gunn told him.

"Thank you."

"You're *my* boy."

Wesley was hoping Cordelia couldn't see his ears turn red from where she was standing, though he knew bloody well that Angel could tell without even looking. "Thank you again. Remind me to bite you later."

"You bite him now," Cordelia pointed out. "Why let the fact that we're watching, stop you?"

If she couldn't have seen his ears turn red, she surely couldn't miss the way his face, neck, and possibly entire body blushed. He tried glowering at her, and she smiled like he'd done something adorable. Bloody hell. He would be glad to be grown, again. Mostly.

"We'd better call Deadboy, Junior, and see what's up," Gunn said blithely, as though Wesley weren't eyeing his hand, for biting. If Cordelia wanted to watch, he could accommodate her.

"I'll call," Angel told him. "I want to talk to Spike."

"Perhaps someone *else* should ask if he rang my parents?" Wesley wasn't all that fond of Spike, and normally wouldn't mind seeing him get in trouble with Angel. But he felt somehow responsible, for this.

"Why don't I call?" Cordelia offered, giving Angel a slightly worried look. Angelus he might sound, but surely the chance to righteously thump Spike didn't make him *that* happy.

"I told Buffy I'd call her back," Angel objected. "She's expecting--"

"She's expecting someone to talk to her, not to yell for Spike to get his dead ass on the phone so you can scold him."

Angel -- dear lord, was that a pout? Wesley blinked. Angel backed off, and let Cordelia use the pizza-ordering-device (as Wesley had dubbed it when Gunn pointed out that such was all they ever used it for) to ring the Magic Box.

She waited for a moment, then said calmly, "Hey, Buffy. Tell Spike to get his dead ass on the phone, NOW." After a pause during which Cordelia wrinkled her nose and said "Ewww! -- no, not literally, and thank you for *that* image," she launched into a tirade that made Wesley feel quite justified in having called her...er, having his imaginary father have called her, a razor-tongued harpy. He was just glad she was *his* harpy. If Spike got a word in edgewise, Wesley would have been flabbergasted, because Cordelia didn't even stop to breathe.

"And how could you *do* that to a little kid -- I mean, there's evil, and there's evil!" she finished off. She finally did stop, but only, Wesley suspected, because Spike was yelling at her. He could hear it from where he was sitting.

She looked confused, then asked, "What do you mean, you didn't call anyone's parents?" Wesley was surprised -- he hadn't realized she'd managed to get the details out of Spike's offense, during her rant. Rather, he wasn't surprised she had -- but was surprised Spike had been able to decipher it. "Well, if you didn't, who did?"

But Angel took the phone from her, before she could get an answer. "Spike, did you call Wesley's parents and tell him about the Urdeku?" Another pause, and Angel's thunderous expression grew into a more familiar slightly confused one. But he still sounded angry when he said, "Spike, if you're lying...."

Wesley could picture Spike rolling his eyes, and saying 'yeah, yeah, if I'm lying you'll thump me. Shaking in my boots.'

"Um, no, she said...it was a man with a London accent. We thought...no one else but you and Giles could have...well, no, we didn't think he had." There was a pause. "Because he would have sounded like a four year old, Spike." Another pause. "Yes, all right, because it's the kind of thing you'd do, dammit." Then Angel looked slightly more confused. "You're welcome."

Wes almost giggled, in spite of the seriousness of the subject. Only Spike would be worried about whether his father-figure still thought of him as evil enough to torment a small child for the sheer joy of it -- even if he *wasn't* that evil anymore.

Angel listened for a moment longer, interjecting a 'but' or a 'look, I'm *sorry*' every so often, then held the phone away from his face and turned back to look at the rest of the people in the room. "Spike is insane. He's complimented by the fact that I suspected him of doing this, then he tears my scalp off for thinking he'd let anything happen to one of the kids, without somebody's innards steaming on the floor in front of him first. I paraphrase."

Wesley didn't want to know what Angel *hadn't* said, if that was the paraphrase. Cordelia, however, was laughing. "Oh, god! Spike really *has* turned into a dad!" She collapsed against the doorframe, laughing.

"Oh, and you're any better?" Gunn demanded.

"Me? What did *I* do?"

"'Don't let go of Gunn's hand while we cross the street, Wes,'" Gunn said. "Don't talk to any strangers, Wes. Don't--"

"Look! That was just so he wouldn't get kidnapped!"

"That was the first *day* he was a four year old."

Wesley watched the two, like a tennis match, and wondered if he ought be offended. Angel was watching, as well, looking like he wanted to be amused but was afraid Spike would misinterpret his amusement and start harangueing him all over again.

Wesley leant back against Gunn, stuck his thumb back in his mouth, and wondered if they'd be done and clear out before the Powerpuff Girls came on.

*****
Part 21:

Spike was still protesting that of *course* he hadn't called Wesley's parents. The only trouble was, no one was listening to him except Rupert, and *he* was about to bitch-slap Spike if he didn't shut up. Because they all *knew* he hadn't, that in fact he'd been sitting on the couch with Willow, a grape lollipop on his lap and a giant bowl of popcorn in his mouth -- or so he'd sworn on the third repetition of his story -- when the call had happened.

So he was just blathering on about it to get attention, which was utterly unfair, because it was *Rupert's* turn to get attention. At least everyone was ignoring Spike and looking at *him*, which was good. It was just that the distracting whining Spike-noise in his ear was making it hard for Rupert to concentrate on what he'd been trying to say.

"Spike! Shut up! Now!" he ordered. Spike looked up in surprise, then grinned.

"Right away, Little Master Ripper, sir."

Rupert said something quite nasty in Fyarl.

"Watch it!" Spike snapped back. "Or somebody will get his mouth washed out with soap!"

"Can we please get on with this?" Rupert said in an aggrieved tone -- which, he was sorry to see, actually worked. Sorry, because it meant he'd never be able to do it again once he changed back. "Now, this could be quite serious. Whoever is doing this knows a great deal about us."

"Giles is right," Buffy said. Rupert wished he'd had a tape recorder. "We have to find out who's doing this. So they haven't done any permanent harm--"

"Except for getting my ears chewed off," Spike groused.

Rupert sent him a nasty look. "Like that's new."

"But I didn't do it, this time! That hurts my feelings." Spike gave them all a pout. Only Xander and Anya seemed to notice, though. Unfortunately that meant they had to see both Anya and Xander giving Spike a kiss.

Luckily, Rupert was feeling young enough to not mind saying, loudly, "Eeeeeeeew!" He was joined by Tara, who wrinkled her nose.

"Heh. You won't mind so much when you're older," Xander teased her.

She looked straight at him and shook her head. "Nope. Parents aren't supposed to kiss. It's gross."

Xander nodded. "Well, yeah, it was when *my* -- Oh, ewww. Thank you for that image. Hey, waitaminute! What parents?"

She walked over, held out her arms, and Xander automatically picked her up and put her on his knee, still waiting for an answer. She just looked at him, grinning. "Hi, Papa."

"I say again, eeeeew!" Rupert commented. "If we could get back to the topic at hand? To whit, who's trying to mess about with us? As Buffy said, no major damage has occurred -- but it *could* have. All sorts of havoc could have happened just from us being turned into children the first time, when we didn't know what was going on. Spike could have been arrested, at the mall -- not that *that's* a rare situation, but still. And now this call to Wesley's parents. Who are the *only* set of parents among our group who are still around, and would be likely to believe a stranger who said their child had been turned into a ... child. Whoever is behind this knows too much."

"Do you think they meant for Willow and Tara to get taken? I mean, were they trying to get Spike arrested, or trying to get ahold of Willow and Tara?" Buffy asked. "And maybe they were trying to kidnap Wesley, too?"

"But then they would have simply impersonated his parents, or something. We don't know," Rupert sighed.

"If they wanted to kidnap Willow and Tara, they would have just grabbed them. Most children who disappear are simply taken off the street, enticed with promises of sweets or a ride home, and they climb into the car on their own. If they aren't taken by their own relatives, in which case--" Anya stopped, and looked at the group, who were all staring at her. "What? I saw a documentary on the Lifetime channel. It was very informative."

Rupert saw Xander and Spike both turn a little paler.

"She does have a point, though. I don't think the woman was *trying* to actually get Willow and Tara. All they would have done was get them put into foster care while the cops tried to sort everything out." Buffy looked at Willow and Tara, a worried expression on her face.

"Do you think whoever it was, knew how Wesley's parents would react?" Xander asked. "It must have been pretty bad -- Cordelia was pretty upset. If she'd been here, Spike would be wearing a new look - dust to dust."

"Edgar Wyndham-Pryce is an arsehole," Rupert said succinctly. "I don't know his wife very well, but if she's anything like him at all, I imagine it's *them* whom Cordelia really wants to stake."

This time there were no comments about mouth-washing-out from Spike. Just a glance at Xander, then a nod back in Rupert's direction. "Guess I won't eat her this time, then."

"Errrgh!" Dawn said, slamming a book shut. "This is *useless*. Worse than Calculus."

Rupert looked at the volume. "The Kelin Grimoire? I should say so; it was written by a group of students in the nineteen thirties, as a practical joke. I keep it around as a curiosity piece."

"No," she said, the frustration evident in her voice, as it was in everyone else's. "This whole meeting conversation brainstorming thing. We're just going in circles. It's like whoever this is just wants to cause as much trouble as possible in our lives."

"Yeah, but it's not all bad. Most of it's kinda fun. Except for the kidnapping part. That was scary," Willow said, shuddering.

No one responded at first. Then Buffy said, "So -- we're looking for a guy who knows us, speaks in an English accent, and just likes causing trouble."

"Oh, bloody hell." Rupert rubbed his eyes. The group was staring at him when he looked up, and he made a face. "Ethan."

"But how would he...." Willow began. "Oh, no, that part would be easy. But then how would-- no, he could do that, too. And he knows most of us. He probably knows *about* all of us, considering how much time he's spent sneaking around Sunnydale."

"Why, though? Why send us a statue that turns us into kids? And why didn't he do anything the first time around?" Buffy didn't sound fully convinced.

But Rupert, who knew Ethan better than any of them, had a sinking feeling in his stomach that had nothing to do with a lunch of potato chips and ice cream. "Perhaps because he was hoping the effects of the Urdeku would cause sufficient havoc on their own."

"And when it didn't...he decided to take a more active part in the chaos-having?" Buffy nodded. "Yup, that sounds like him. So -- I guess we start looking for Ethan, then."

"What do we do with him, once we've found him?" Tara asked. Then she giggled. "Make him stand in the corner!"

Willow joined in the giggling. "Nope. The Initiative tried putting him in time-out. He just went *poof* and disappeared. He doesn't play fair. I think we should spank him."

Rupert glared at his friends. "I have *no* idea why you're all looking at me." He sniffed. "I'm not big enough, anyway."

"*I* am," Buffy said grimly. "Not that I'm gonna...do *that* to him. Exactly. So, aside from going out on the front steps and yelling 'Hey Rayne, we're onto you, come out with your hands up,' any suggestions for finding him? I don't suppose we'd be lucky enough for him to have checked into a hotel under his own name."

"We could do a locating spell," Tara suggested. "Those are simple enough...oh, but I guess we'd need something he owns." She frowned. "I suppose that wouldn't work, then."

Rupert thought very hard about keeping his mouth shut. But if they didn't find Ethan, chances were the next thing he tried would be dangerous -- intentionally so or not. "How long ago must he have owned it?"

Well, he certainly had everyone's attention now. Tara glanced at Willow, who said, "I think...as long as it was his -- and not something that, you know, he sold or something, it should work. Well enough to narrow down the search, anyway."

"Um, Giles? Why?" Buffy looked like she didn't really want to know.

"Because I have something that belonged to Ethan." Rupert stopped there. Then sighed, because they were all still looking at him. He *ought* to just tough it out...except Willow was looking at him. Wasn't that look not supposed to work on other four-year-olds? "I have a pair of his pants. They have sentimental value, and it's not what you're thinking."

Some of them looked confused -- but Spike laughed. "You've a pair of his unmentionables? What'd you do, steal 'em and run 'em up a flagpole?"

"Unmentionables?" Xander asked. Then he looked at Rupert, eyes wide. "You have a pair of his *underwear*?"

"If someone will take me home, I can get them and we can get on with the locating spell."

"You have a pair of his *underwear*?" Buffy asked.

Rupert sighed. "Look, it's important we find--"

"You have a pair of Ethan's underwear?" Willow asked, scrunching up her nose like she was imagining that he hadn't washed them, either.

Rupert looked around at the rest of the group, daring them to comment. He glanced up at Dawn, who looked utterly innocent. "Who, me? Why would I care that you have a pair of your alleged worst-and-most-annoying enemy's underwear, which you keep for sentimental reasons?"

"Xander used to be my enemy, back when I was a vengeance demon and Cordelia was my client, and I keep all *his* underwear for sentimental reasons," Anya offered helpfully.

"Thank you, Anya," Xander said, without even a trace of sarcasm. "Except you don't -- you threw away my He-Man Underoos."

"They were twenty years old, Xander. They had moth holes in them!"

Rupert had never in his life thought he would ever be grateful for a conversation about Xander's delicate-washing items in his presence. Too bad it couldn't have lasted longer. Xander shook his head, apparently aware that he couldn't win an argument with Anya, and turned back to look at Rupert. "You've been holding out on us, Mister."

Rupert blinked, astonished. "You don't...actually think I... I was forced to borrow them when he turned me into a Fyarl demon. Once I turned back, it was wear his clothes or go about naked." He glared, daring them to suggest he have done so.

"And you kept them for sentimental reasons?" Buffy asked.

"It's a very fond memory -- watching the Initiative manhandle him into the car, taking him away...." Rupert smiled, remembering. That part had made it all worth-while.

"Yeah, but -- you were still wearing pants. Trousers. And pants. I thought you just borrowed a shirt?" Buffy asked.

Rupert fumbled with the book he was holding, and muttered, "My own were quite stretched out of shape."

"Oh, yes," Anya said brightly. Rupert considered hiding under the table. "Fyarl genitalia are quite large and impressive." She looked at Xander and Spike. "Not *more* impressive than human or vampire sized ones."

"Not threatened," Xander assured her.

"Yeah," Spike agreed, but looked over at Rupert with a devious expression. Rupert considered spelling a hole in the ground, to disappear into. "But only when aroused, dear Rupert. Otherwise they're quite tiny."

Rupert didn't reply. He was trying to remember a suitable spell to inflict on Spike. Or a teleportation spell, to send himself someplace else. Like Essex.

"Spike? How do you know what they look like?" Xander was asking.

"Well, they're textbook demons, aren't they. Don't tend to walk about in trousers like some of your more anthropomorphic types."

"Yeah, but how did you know the bit about impressive versus tiny?"

"Hey, not my fault if everyone who sees me wants to shag me. That doesn't mean they *did* shag me, mind. I've got some standards. Never boff anything with an IQ under 60. Which means you just made the cut, monkey-boy." Spike grinned and thumped Xander on the head.

"No foreplay! No foreplay!" The cry came from Willow and Tara, and was swiftly echoed by Buffy and Rupert. Dawn was suspiciously silent, and Anya was grinning happily.

"That was *not* foreplay," Xander complained. "He *insulted* me and I'm not speaking to him for the rest of the night."

"Are, too," Spike cajoled.

Rupert looked for something to throw. Light enough he could pick it up, and heavy enough it would hurt Spike. He couldn't find anything suitable.

"There are *children* present," Willow snapped.

"Look, Red, just because *you're* going a month without, doesn't mean the rest of us should suffer," Spike told her.

Rupert nearly opened his mouth to say 'Can we please get back to finding Ethan' -- then realized they were no longer talking about his underwear, and kept quiet.

"But aren't they used to it? I mean, don't lesbians stop having sex after the first year or so?"

Everyone stared, or gaped, at Anya. Willow stomped her foot. "That is not true! Lesbian bed-death is a myth! We have sex all the time...just not when we're four!"

While it was *nice* they weren't talking about Ethan's underwear, Rupert wasn't sure he preferred the current topic any more. He wondered if he shouldn't just call a taxi to take him home to fetch the garment, and leave everyone else here.

"Oh. See, Xander? You were wrong-- they still have sex. So when they grow up, we can invite them to--" Anya's words were cut off by a large hand over her mouth.

"You actually believed that?" Willow looked up at him.

"No, I just wanted *Anya* to," Xander whined. "Did you *really* want her inviting you over for swing night?"

Rupert did *not* want to hear the answer to that. Desperately. "Stop! Dawn, take me home so I can pick up Ethan's...things, and while we're gone, the rest of you can talk about whatever you like. Preferably the introduction of saltpetre as a regular part of your balanced breakfasts."

"Oh, that's *definitely* a myth," Anya started in. "I don't see why anyone ever even bothered trying it, when it's so much easier to cause a man to lose interest in sex by making his parts fall off."

"Wonderful. Fine. Feel free to discuss it in detail, while we're gone." Rupert climbed down off his chair, and walked over to Dawn. "Once we leave the shop, may we drive very slowly?"

Dawn smiled. "What if we just stop for ice cream on the way?"

"Excellent."

"Rupert! Naughty boy," Spike chided.

"Er? What?" Willow and Tara were giggling, and Spike and Xander were grinning like they were up to something. "Never mind, I don't want to know. Come on, Dawn."

"Hang on -- Buffy, can I have some money?"

"Why don't you just get some from Giles?"

"Because he already bribed me once, today. It's your turn."

"Then why don't you use your bribe money to pay for it?" Buffy asked her.

"D'uh! Because I already spent it."

Buffy frowned. "What am I supposed to be bribing you for?"

Dawn rolled her eyes. "So I don't tell them what you told me about how much you saw when Ethan turned Giles back into a human, and those pajama pants fell off..."

"That's not bribery, that's blackmail." Nonetheless, Buffy dug into her purse, while Rupert covered his ears and considered whether or not to throw a tantrum.

"Maybe we should invite *Buffy* to swing night," Anya suggested. "Since Giles won't accept my offer. Then she can tell us stories, and -- "

Willow was glaring up at Xander. "I don't see you objecting to *that* invitation."

"Well, no. I'm always up for stories about Giles and his underwear."

"That's not what I --"

He'd had quite enough of this. Rupert swung his head around to look at the adults in the room, narrowed his eyes, and began the mental preparations necessary to cast the ancient Lithonian spell of silence on them. Then he thought of a better idea-- and pouted.

Everyone just looked at him, momentarily speechless. Then Spike began applauding. "Oh, very nice. Love it--" Rupert looked directly at Spike, who stopped clapping. Then he stopped smiling. Then he fidgeted in his chair. Finally he said, "Oh, what do you want, already?"

Rupert held out his hand. Spike reached into Xander's pocket for his wallet before Rupert could even say, "So we can stop for french fries."

"Wimp," Xander taunted Spike.

"S'your money, isn't it?"

"Yeah, Xander. Why aren't you yelling at him for stealing your wallet?" Willow asked, as Spike brought Rupert a couple of five dollar bills.

"Oh, right," Xander said. "Spike, don't ever grope me in front of my friends. Bad Spike."

Rupert narrowed his eyes. "Just for that, I'm not bringing you any fries." Then he turned and walked out of the shop.

*****