"Ahhh...ahhh...choo!" Tara just managed to grab the kleenex that Willow was holding out, in time.

Xander looked up from the TV and blinked at her. "That's the third time she's sneezed in the last half hour," he said to Spike.

"Yeah, I know. I know." Spike was staring at her like he thought she might suddenly dissolve into a big pile of sneeze-goo. Honestly!

"You think we should take her to the hospital?"

Willow looked around at them while Tara wiped her nose between giggles. "Are you guys nuts? She just has a cold."

"Yeah, but... um..." Xander didn't look very well himself, Tara decided. He looked all hyper and freaked-- especially when she sneezed again. "See! There she goes again. What if it's something worse than a cold?"

Tara rolled her eys, then decided that she may as well make the best of what was apparently going to be a hysterical set of pseudo-parents. "I'm sure if I had some tea, I'd feel much better," she said, looking cute and just a tiny bit pathetic.

"Tea? OK, I can make tea. It's just boiling water, right?" Xander jumped up and was heading for the kitchen.

Spike, however, was looking at her with some alarm. "You, er, don't feel well? How sick do you feel? Bugger, I can't -- Red, put your hand on her forehead, tell me if she's got a fever."

Tara tried very hard not to giggle, as Willow did as requested. She pressed her forearm against Tara's head, then kissed her forehead. Then shook her head. "Nope. Fever free."

Spike was giving Willow a decidedly skeptical look. "Thought you were supposed to use your hand?"

"It's more fun my way," Willow replied.

"Hmm." Tara couldn't tell whether he was storing the information for future use, or deciding if he believed Willow. "We got a thermometer around here? Just in case?"

Xander put his own hand on Tara's forehead. "She doesn't feel warm to me. Well, warmer than you, duh. Um... I think there's a thermometer in the medicine chest..."

"Aren't you supposed to be making tea?" Willow asked.

"Please-- Yank-boy couldn't make a decent cup of tea to save his life. Boiling water..." Spike snorted, and headed for the kitchen, still casting worried looks in Tara's direction.

"Great-- by the time he's done, we'll be hip-deep in crumpets," Xander said, glancing after him. Then he looked back at Tara. "Are you sure you don't have any achey joints? It could be the 'flu."

"Xander, I'm sure. I've had colds before -- and influenza. I know the difference."

He didn't look convinced, but Tara figured it would just take her speedy recovery to convince them she wasn't seriously ill. At least Willow wasn't freaking out -- she was sitting beside Tara, looking supportive and smiling, and ready to steal the blanket the moment Tara let her attention stray. Just like always.

"Um, Okay, so -- do you need anything? Besides tea, I think we have cough syrup and aspirin and -- or are you not supposed to give aspirin to kids with colds? Or is it fevers?" Xander jumped up and headed towards the kitchen. "Spike! Hell, why am I asking you?" He began pacing towards the phone. "Maybe I should call...umm... Buffy might know. She never gets sick. Dawn? Would Dawn know? Or--"

"Xander!" Willow threw a pillow, which bounced off Xander's head. "You could ask me. I've had colds before, you know. Or - here's an idea. You could ask Tara. She's had colds before, too."

Tara gave Willow a grin. Xander just looked marginally less freaked. When Tara sneezed again, Xander jumped for the box, but Willow was already holding another tissue out.

"I knew we shouldn't have let them help," Xander was saying. "When it started raining, we should have brought them straight home."

"Don't be silly -- you needed us to make the spell work right."

"Since the spell didn't *work*, I don't think Anya's gonna buy that, somehow."

Willow frowned at Xander, then stuck her tongue out at him. "Dorkhead. It's not our fault he wasn't *here*. It only works if the person's within a mile radius. He could've gone out of town to see a movie, or...um..."

"Gone to Wal-Mart to buy some new underwear," Tara giggled. "That's more than a mile away."

"Anyway, why are you worried about Anya?" Willow asked.

"Because it's another thing we managed to fu-- screw up, on our own. She's gonna think we can't take care of you two." He actually looked like he believed what he was saying. Tara glanced at Willow, and they shared a private giggle. "What?" Xander asked, putting his hands on his hips.

"First of ahh ahh achoo!" Tara took the kleenex that Willow had at the ready. "First of all, it's not your fault it rained. Anya's not gonna be mad at you for me catching some germs, either. And second of all..." She looked at Willow, and giggled again.

"What?"

But they were both giggling too hard to answer Xander's now-whiny question. Oh yeah, Anya was *all* about thinking Spike and Xander couldn't raise kids! Even *Giles* had caught those looks she'd been giving them when their backs were turned, and he'd made barfing noises about it to Willow and Tara. Loud, realistic-sounding barfing noises.

Willow reached over and patted Xander's hand. "Why don't you go see if Spike needs help with the tea?"

"Spike's threatened to make me sleep in the utility room downstairs if I ever 'help' with the tea, again," Xander muttered, but he walked over to the kitchen, regardless.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Tara and Willow began laughing, harder. "He doesn't have a clue!" Willow whispered.

Tara shook her head. "I think Anya's gonna spring it on him." The thought just occurred, and she sat up suddenly. "Oh, you don't think she'll...um, do it without warning him, first?"

Willow stopped laughing, and frowned. "I don't think so. It's kinda a big thing to spring on a guy, that you're making him a dad."

"And Anya is all tact and good-planning," Tara said sarcastically.

"Oh. Hmm, good point. Well, we *could* warn him," Willow began. Then they grinned.

"Nah!" they said in unison.

Tara was just getting out of the early-sneezing phase of her cold -- which never lasted more than a couple of hours, and she'd been sniffling since they got home -- when Spike emerged from the kitchen, carrying a tray of tea things. And yes, when Spike made tea, Spike *made tea*. He was worse than Giles, which Tara had never thought possible.

"I really think it's 'starve a cold and feed a fever, Spike," Xander was saying. But that was probably only because he wanted all the cream horns for himself. Tara smiled happily as Willow snatched two and handed one to her.

"That's about temperature, moron. Not food. You starve a cold by taking away the cold air, and feed a fever by giving it warmth." Spike handed Tara a cup of hot tea, with lemon and sugar -- no cream. Just the way she liked it. She smiled at him, then dipped the end of her cream horn into it, which got her a look almost as pained as some she'd seen Giles give Anya. Tara stuck out her tongue at Spike and munched happily on her dripping pastry.

Xander snatched one of the cream horns for himself, then frowned. "But that means..."

"Means you do the same thing, yeah."

"How'd you know that?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "I *did* have a mum once, you know."

Xander shrugged. "Mine wouldn't have known that." Then he looked at Tara. "Hey, doesn't that mean she should have some blankets on her?"

Spike blinked, then nodded, looking distracted. "Yeah, s'pose so. I'll get some."

"I already have one blanket," Tara pointed out.

"Not for long. Willow's already got half of it," Xander pointed to the innocent looking girlfriend snuggled under the blanket beside Tara.

Tara looked sharply at her. "Stop that, I'm sick!"

Willow rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you're dying, I can tell. Move over, I wanna be coddled, too."

"You don't get coddled, you aren't sick."

"I can be! I bet if I kiss you, I'll catch your cold." She moved forward, and Tara saw Xander leap forward and put his hand over Willow's face.

"You're not getting sick, too. And you're not kissing in front of me when you're too young to look anything but adorable. Um, I mean...hell. Spike! Get out here with those blankets!"

"Keep your bloody shirt on!" Spike yelled back. Tara thought he sounded a bit cranky -- could vampires get colds? When Willow got sick, she got cranky, which was a good reason *not* to try to give Willow her cold.

Even with Spike, Xander, and Anya around to take care of them, they'd put them in bed together and Tara would have to listen to her. She loved Willow, with all her heart and soul, but if she prefered being far away when Willow had a cold. She realized Xander probably knew how Willow got when she was sick -- which explained his quick reflexes.

"Here's the blankets," Spike said, coming back into the living room. Tara stared in disbelief -- it looked like he'd grabbed every blanket in the apartment.

"Spike, I'll suffocate!" she protested. He rolled his eyes, and tossed a fluffy blue blanket on top of her. Willow immediately started tryng to steal it. This time Tara let her, though -- because Spike was already shaking out a quilted comforter and spreading it over her. "That's enough-- really!"

He frowned. "You sure you don't need another?"

Xander studied her, then took the rest of the blankets from Spike and piled them on a chair. "Let's give her the benefit of the doubt. After all, Anya won't be too thrilled if we end up smothering her, either."

"Sure, all you warm-blooded types just stick together," Spike said grumpily. When Tara stuck her tongue out at him, though, he smiled, and handed her another cream horn. Xander suddenly grinned, and grabbed Spike, pulling him close. Trying to, anyway, but Spike brushed him off and gave him a dirty look. "What are you doing?"

"I was trying to stick to you," Xander replied, with a hint of a pout.

Tara ate another bite of her cream horn, and watched, avidly. Willow was right -- this was better than watching soaps.

"I'm not doing anything of the sort, not in front of the kids." Spike glared at Xander, and Xander responded by pouting even more.

"We can go in the other room," he suggested.

"And leave Tara out here all unsupervised, while she's sick?" Spike demanded.

"Hey!" Willow put her hands on her hips and jutted out her lower lip. It would have been more effective, Tara thought, if she hadn't stayed lounging on the couch under two stolen blankets. "I can supervise her just fine!"

"See, Willow can--" Xander frowned. "What am I saying. This is the person who tried to reenact _The Cat In the Hat_ when she was six. And she's only four, now. You're right, Spike."

Spike raised an eyebrow. "Anybody get that on tape?"

"Hey, buddy," Willow protested. "Just who was the one who dared me to do it, huh? Whose summer reading list was that book on? Not mine-- I was reading _Huckleberry Finn_."

"Yeah, well... Do you do everything I say you should do? If I told you to jump off a -- " Xander stopped, and smacked himself in the forehead. "Help me-- I have become Willow's mother."

Tara looked him over. "Um, no. She has bigger boobs than you."

"Thank you. Much appreciated." Xander looked down at his t-shirted chest and flexed uncertainly.

"Tara, have you been looking at my mother's boobs?"

Tara's jaw dropped, and she tried to think of what she was supposed to say. No? Yes, but not that way? Yes, and I can see where you get yours? Then she sneezed, and Spike was holding her nearly-dropped mug of tea, and she didn't have to say anything.

"Maybe we should call the doctor. Just in case," Xander said.

"Boys!" Willow sighed. "Why doesn't one of you go down to the store and get some echinacea?"

"Echiwhaticha?" Xander asked.

"It'll make her get better, faster, without making her all dopey like regular cold medicine will."

"But I don't like the way it tastes," Tara said hesitantly. She'd been hoping four-year-old Willow wouldn't have remembered the homeopathic cold remedies.

Willow looked sternly at her. "It will make you better."

"Right, then, I'll go to the store," Spike offered. "Er, which one will have it?"

"Yeah, because it has to be one he's allowed to go into," Xander said with an evil smile.

Spike sneered at him, then reached for his jacket. "I'm sure I can manage to act like a grown-up for an hour, without your unsavoury influence. Willow?"

"Just about anywhere with a pharmacy should have it on their over-the-counter shelves. Walgreens, K-Mart, Wal-Mart..."

"Got it." Spike was straightening his collar and heading out the door, while Xander was still blinking at the quickness of his departure.

"You sure you're okay to drive in the rain?" he called out.

"Walking. Not like *I'm* gonna catch cold." Then Spike was out and the door was shutting behind him. Xander stared at the front door for a few seconds longer. Then Tara sneezed again, and was once more confronted with too much comfort and care.

She wasn't sure how she survived it until the front door opened, again. She'd managed to distract Xander a little by telling him what she really needed was the TV on, so she could relax and not do anything. Robot Wars kept them all amused for nearly an hour, then the door opened and Xander leapt up.

"Anya! You're home."

"Yes, I'm home. You sound disappointed."

"No! I thought you were Spike. He went to get echi..something I can't pronounce. For Tara -- she's sick!"

"Sick?"

Tara looked over the back of the couch, waved, then sneezed again. "I have a cold," she explained.

Anya walked over, and looked down at her and Willow. "Is Willow sick, too?"

"Nope! Just stealing blankets," Willow answered proudly. "And I'm the official tissue hander-overer." She handed a tissue over, as she spoke.

Anya surveyed the scene -- Tara could see her take in the number of blankets, the tray of tea, and the glasses of orange juice Xander had brought out once the tea was drunk. "You did a very good job, Xander. I'm impressed with your parental instincts -- apparently the Harris genes haven't completely obliterated them."

Tara saw Willow wince, but Xander just smiled, like after all this time with Anya, he was able to listen to what she meant, instead of what she said. "Thank you, Mrs. Harris. I'll be sure to call my grandma and tell her."

"Isn't she dead?"

"Good point. I'll call collect."

Anya smiled, and Tara was surprised. She hadn't really noticed, before now, how readily Anya got Xander's jokes, nowadays. Perhaps Anya was just indulging Xander, smiling when she knew he'd *made* a joke, even though she didn't get it. Tara looked over at Willow. It wasn't totally unheard of thing to do.

"Here, got your echinacea," Spike was saying, handing her a paper bag. Startled, Tara took it, and pulled out a box of echinacea tea, a bottle of alcohol-free essence of echinacea, and a jar of echinacea tablets.

"Um, thanks," she managed, wondering if Spike expected her to take *all* of this in the next two days. She hadn't even seen him come in, though it wasn't too difficult to gather from the grin he gave her that he was used to sneaking up on people in that annoying, stealthy vampire way. And that he enjoyed it.

"Take the liquid," Willow was saying in her imperious mommy-tone, which had lost must of its commanding air when she'd become four. Tara stuck her tongue out, and took the bottle of tablets.

"I'm taking one of these."

"But the liquid is absorbed much faster, Tara, and you'll feel better sooner."

"Except for when I'm gagging on the taste. I'm taking these."

"Tara," Willow began.

"Willow, let her be," Xander said. "She'll get well soon enough. For now, why don't we give you some more juice to wash that down with." Willow stuck her tongue out at Xander. "Your face will freeze that way," he warned her. He was grinning, though, so Tara didn't think they were about to be subjected to another round of "Help, I'm a grown-up."

"Oh, is that what happened to you?" Willow asked, snuggling into her corner of the couch. Xander stuck his own tongue out at her, then disappeared into the kitchen.

Anya turned to Spike, who'd been standing there, his hands still in his duster pockets. "Aren't you going to take your coat off?" she asked, as she pulled her own off and hung it up next to the door.

Spike glanced at the girls for a moment, then fished around in his pocket. "Oh --here, forgot this." He handed Tara a small package.

"Echinacea chewing gum?" She blinked. "Um. Thanks."

"Spike?" Anya was reaching out for his coat, but he shook his head.

"I'm gonna head back out and help the Slayer look for Rayne, some more. Rupes didn't want her to go alone, but if I don't go she'll end up towing Dawn and the mini-Rupert, around." He headed for the front door, with the air of someone who was just stepping out for a pack of cigarettes and a game of pool.

"Here. Drink all of this." Xander was holding out another tall glass of juice. Tara couldn't tell for sure, but she thought he was a little subdued by Spike's leaving. He wasn't saying anything, though, so Tara decided to worry about more immediate problems.

"I can't drink all of that."

"Excuse me?" Xander blinked at her, and was no doubt thinking about the five sodas she had downed in one sitting.

"I'll have to pee all night, if I drink all that, now."

"You'll be up all night, anyway, coughing," Willow pointed out. Tara stuck her tongue out at Willow.

Then she heard, faintly, "Er, yeah. So I'm off. Be back later." She looked over and saw Spike, just now walking out the door. She hadn't realized he'd still been standing there, and guessed, from Anya and Xander's confused expressions, that they hadn't, either.

"Spike seems a little distracted. Do you think Tara being sick made him uncomfortable? It used to make *me* feel weird, being around sick humans." Anya asked. "Not counting you, of course." She smiled brightly at Xander. "You're sick all the time, so I got used to it."

"Hey, I catch things easily. And *so* not my fault I got syphillis, I'll remind you."

"I meant in the head." She frowned. "Did I say it wrong? You always laugh when Spike makes jokes like that." Then Anya paused. "Of course, the syphillis could have made you sick in the head. In fact, you could still be suffering from lingering complications. That might explain your bizarre shopping patterns..."

"And that, Ladies and Germs--" Xander stared sternly at Tara, as if the germs in question were hiding under the blanket with her, instead of invading her nose and throat -- "was my wife attempting to be humorous."

"No, it wasn't. Well, only the first part." But Anya was still smiling, looking at Xander expectantly.

"You weren't trying to be humourous?" Xander asked, and Tara giggled, muffling it behind her hand in case she wasn't supposed to be laughing at them.

"I wasn't *trying*," Anya replied. "It was successfully funny. See? They're laughing." She pointed to Willow and Tara.

"Yes, they are," Xander agreed. He leaned in and gave Anya the kiss she was so obviously waiting for, her reward for making a joke. Even if it wasn't funny. Tara laughed, again, and sneezed once, then coughed. "If he wasn't uncomfortable being around a sick kid, what do you think it was?" Xander glanced at Tara, then Willow. "Did he say anything weird? I mean, for Spike?"

Willow shook her head, a thoughtful expression on her face. It made her look adorable, Tara thought. She watched Willow for a moment, then blinked when someone waved a hand in front of her face.

"Earth to Tara...you can stare at your girlfriend on your own time. Did Spike say anything odd to you?"

"No. Not odd for Spike," Tara admitted. As long as she had known the vampire, she couldn't read him well enough to guess why he'd left. She wasn't worried, though, because Xander and Anya hadn't gone chasing after him.

"He'll tell us when he gets back. Even if we have to have sex with him for seven hours before he tells us." It was freaky, Tara thought, how Anya could make that sound like it was just another household chore. Like stripping wallpaper....

"Um...Anya..." Xander was jerking his head in Willow and Tara's direction, in that universal 'not in front of the children' gesture. Tara recognized it not only from her own childhood, but from the number of times she'd made it herself in the last month.

"Oh. Right. Somebody needs to be able to get up and check on Tara every so often. Plus you have to work tomorrow. So we need something that takes less than seven hours. Hmm." Anya looked thoughtful. "We could spank him. That would take less than seven hours."

Willow sat up straight and made a face like she'd just tasted some of those echinacea drops. "Hello! Children present! Lesbian children present! Don't want to hear about naked male vampires being spanked..."

"I didn't say anything about nakedness," Anya told her.

"Oh. Well. Good."

"I mean, he'd *be* naked, but I didn't *say* that. I figured it was understood."

"Anya!" The chorus came from both Willow and Xander. Tara was too busy trying to laugh and cough at the same time.

"What?" she asked, sounding as innocent and confused as she always did. Tara was beginning to suspect it was at least partly put-on.

"Maybe we should just *talk* to him," Xander suggested, with another significant glance towards the children.

Anya pouted. "Very well. It doesn't seem like as much fun. We're going to have to think of something else, though, when we have kids of our own. I'm not going eighteen or more years without talking about having sex with you and Spike."

Tara tried very, very hard not to cough or sneeze -- drinking in the sight of Xander, eyes as wide as they had been as a magically-turned four-year-old, and mouth gaping like he'd been hypnotized into thinking he was a frog and had to catch flies. He was apparently trying to say something, because she could see his throat working, and his jaw moved, slightly, every so often. Tara glanced over and caught Willow winking at her, then they both went back to watching Xander have a heart-attack.

"You..buhwah..yubuh," Xander finally said.

"Yes?" Anya asked. Again sounding so innocent and guileless that Tara had to wonder if she had *ever* been truly clueless.

"Please tell me you are speaking hypothetically," Xander managed.

Anya favoured him a small smile. "If you're asking if I'm pregnant, the answer is 'no'. I thought about becoming pregnant without informing you, but I have decided, from watching you and Spike behave as parents, that you will be fine making the decision beforehand. You two will make excellent fathers. I chose well."

Xander was gaping, again, only this time he was starting to grin. Also starting to look at Anya like someone was going to have to remind him there were children present.

"I get to be godmother," Willow declared. "And you have to name it after me." Without removing his gaze from Anya, Xander picked up a pillow and smacked Willow dead-center in the face with it.

"You can't be godmother," Tara said. Willow watched, frowning, while she blew her nose, then said, "I get to be godmother. I'm the one who blew up Spike's crypt so he had to move in with Xander and Anya in the first place."

"Like you did that on *purpose*, Ms. 'I don't need a measuring spoon, I know just how much henbane to add, poof poof oops' ?"

"The ways of a witch are mysterious and...ah... ah... choo! Not to be questioned by mere ...ah choo! " Tara peeped up at Willow, who was trying to look stern, and *still* looked adorable. "Um... I think maybe I should take the liquid echinacea after ah... ahh..." She caught that last one, and watched the adorable look change to one she recognized all too well -- nyah nyah told you so...

"See what you get for questioning the ways of a witch?" Willow asked. Tara narrowed her eyes, remembering a certain sneezing-powder-in-a-spell rhyme Willow had sworn would be sooo much fun at parties and Scooby meetings...

"I'll tell you what you get," Xander interrupted. "An early bedtime."

"What?!?" they both protested, in identical tones.

Xander nodded at Tara. "You're sick, you need plenty of rest."

"And what about me?" Willow demanded.

"You?" Xander grinned evilly. "You're four. You go to bed at seven."

Tara glanced at the clock, and tried to laugh. She coughed, instead. Maybe going to sleep *would* be nice, she thought. Wrapped up as she was, she was warm enough and comfortable enough...for the moment...to sleep.

Willow was pouting, though. "I'm not tired. I don't wanna go to bed."

"Then you can lie next to Tara, and be ready to get her anything she needs." Tara gave Willow a pitiful look, and Willow sighed. The mommy expression didn't quite look the same on a four-year-old face, but Tara was happy to see it. She snuggled in her blankets, then reached out one hand towards Willow.

Willow took it, crawling over with her two stolen blankets, and snuggled beside her. "Do you need anything?" she asked.

Tara shook her head. "I'm fine, for now."

"I can get you more juice," Willow offered.

"No, I'm fine."

"Tissues?"

"Nope."

"Another blanket?" Though even Willow looked doubtful, when she asked, that Tara could possibly need more.

"Xander and Anya are sneaking into the bedroom," Tara told her.

"I'm shocked and dismayed," Willow said. "Just think of the children..."

They both giggled, though Tara was getting a little groggy, and the giggling was half slap-happiness on her part. She blinked at Willow and yawned. "Huunnnnh... you *really* didn't want to hear about naked-spanked-Spike?"

Willow pursed her lips. "Well... not when I'm not old enough to appreciate the image."

"But..." ...yawn... "You can always store it up for later."

Willow opened her mouth-- then closed it, and pouted. "I didn't think of that. Damn."

"Don't talk like that in front of me. I'm a sick child." Tara smiled sleepily as Willow rolled her eyes and tugged Tara's topmost blanket closer to Tara's chin.

"Yup. Very sick."

"I'm going to sleep, now," she said, closing her eyes. She didn't have to wriggle much to get comfy, and she smiled when she felt Willow snuggling under the blankets with her. She didn't hear Willow say goodnight, but was pretty sure she did.

*****
Part 23:

The room was dark, and Willow was sound asleep the next time Tara opened her eyes. She felt sick, her head hurt and she could feel her sinuses clogging and aching. She reached out from under the blankets for more echinacea, and the movement woke the rest of her body up. Specifically, her two glasses of juice and one mug of tea filled bladder awoke.

She carefully crawled out from under the blankets and off the couch, trying not to wake Willow. It was dark in the apartment, but there was a light on in the bathroom, its door shut enough that only a crack of light spread across the hallway floor. She made her way to the bathroom, squinting against the light when she opened the door, and wished she weren't sick. She felt decidedly icky.

When she'd finished in the bathroom, she didn't feel like going back to sleep -- not certain she could fall asleep again, right away, anyhow. More tea, maybe, if she could make it without disturbing anyone. She thought about how high the stovetop was. Maybe she'd get another glass of juice. If she put the echinacea drops in her juice, she wouldn't be able to taste them quite as much. And if she did it while Willow was asleep, she wouldn't have to hear 'I told you so' again. At least until next time.

Thus decided, she padded across to the kitchen in her stocking feet -- extremely thankful that she wasn't wearing the footy pajamas, given the many disasters possible when you combine too much juice and a smaller-than usual bladder with one-piece zippered-up nightwear -- and reached for the lightswitch. Stood on tiptoe to reach for the lightswitch, to be accurate. She just managed to flick it with her fingertips, and the florescent light sputtered and popped on.

"Eep!"

At least she managed to eep quietly, Tara thought as she stared at Spike, who was sitting slouched in one of the chairs next to the little 2-person-3-if-you-squeeze breakfast-table. He blinked at her, looking not so much startled as distracted.

She stared at him as his pupils contracted to pinpoints., and his eyes were all blue iris, for a second. He blinked again. Then his distracted look was replaced with one of concern. "Hey, witchling. Something wrong? You feel sicker? I can make you some tea if you like, or... emergency room's open 24 hours. God knows I've got *that* place memorized by now -- could drive there with my eyes closed."

Tara continued to stare at him, then grinned slightly. "No thanks. Especially not the eyes-closed part."

"Tea, then?" he asked, already standing up and heading for the tea kettle. She was tempted to say yes, then thought about what 'making tea' meant for Spike. She didn't think he ought to go to that much trouble...but then, she didn't want more juice. She wanted hot tea.

"Thanks," she said, trying to sound as grateful as she felt. It was tricky, when her head was so stuffed up. She couldn't tell if she really sounded grateful, or just tired.

She climbed into the kitchen chair beside the one Spike had been sitting in, and watched as he began to put together the tea making paraphenalia. Tara tried to figure it all out -- again -- but had to admit, secretly, that she agreed with Xander. Boiling water and adding a little bag was easier. She sat there, watching Spike work silently, until she realized he wasn't going to say anything at all. Maybe that was how tea was supposed to be made -- maybe he'd picked up tea ceremony habits or something. But she had a feeling it was just whatever he'd been thinking about, here in the dark.

"Spike? What's wrong?" she finally asked.

"What makes you think something's wrong?" he asked as he measured leaves into a cup. He was paying very close attention to them -- possibly afraid they would suddenly turn into a Lipton's teabag if he took his eyes off them for one second?

Tara rolled her own eyes, not that he was going to catch the visual if he never looked at her. "Xander and Anya are in bed. And you're not. You were sitting in here in the dark, staring at the floor. Which -- unless you were having sex telepathically, in which case please tell me now, and I'll leave and pretend to forget I ever woke up-- seems kinda wrongish to me. Given that you're widely known to be willing to pass up a blood-soaked riot to be in bed with Xander and/or Anya."

"You don't *sound* very regressed," he pointed out, deftly avoiding the question. So he thought.

"I'm sick and I'm tired and I want my tea and I'm gonna whine at you until you tell me what's wrong and you better not be mean to me or I'll make my girlfriend turn your weewee into a doorknob," she said evenly. "There-- is that better?"

He turned around from his preparations and stared at her for a second, then chuckled. He sounded tired, too. "I remember when you were the shy one."

"I *am* the shy one. If I were Willow, I'd have used the medical Latin for weewee."

The teapot chose that moment to make its presence known -- by spouting steam, since he'd thankfully taken the whistle out. Spike poured water into two cups, and added the right fixings, then carried them over to the table and sat down, falling back into that same not-quite-relaxed slouch in which she'd found him.

After he'd taken a sip of his own tea, he glanced at her quickly, then looked back down at his cup. "Anya wants to have a baby."

"I know. She told Xander, today." Tara giggled. "You should have seen his face!"

Spike blinked at her. "She told Xander?"

She nodded. Spike didn't say anything. He stared at his tea until Tara began to wonder if she'd ruined her chance to get *anything* out of him, at all. Was that what was bothering him, then? That he'd missed seeing Xander's reaction? That seemed like a rather trivial thing to be upset about, though. She didn't put it past Spike to *be* upset about it, but not so badly that he'd stay out of bed. He'd be more likely to be in bed, demanding they make it up to him.

"Spike?" She leaned forward and touched his hand, almost startling his attention back to her, from whatever dark place it had been. "Don't you want to have a baby?"

He snorted. "Not like I can, is it?"

"I don't mean...." Trailing off, Tara began to understand. "Is that it? Because you can't father any of the babies?"

He shrugged, then half-nodded. "Won't be their Dad, will I. I'll be 'Uncle Spike' -- the guy who lives with Mum and Dad and doesn't have a room of his own. Assuming they even want me about anymore."

Tara frowned. "Assuming -- so you haven't even talked to them about it." His refusal -- again -- to look at her pretty much answered that question. "You're just jumping to conclusions. Why wouldn't they want you around?"

"The guy who lives with Mum and Dad and doesn't age? The guy who lives with Mum and Dad and can't go out in the sunlight? Hell, the *guy* who lives with Mum and Dad -- that's enough, right there. It's one thing now, when they can tell anybody who asks to sod off, we're young, we can do what we want. But bring kids into it... " He shook his head. "Be easier for them if I wasn't here, that's all." Then he looked at Tara, who was shaking her own head, but he wasn't paying attention to that. "They're married. We don't say it much, but they're married. You might remember -- little ceremony in the park, after sunset, lot of horny types on the bride's side of the pews? If I wasn't here, they'd probably have a couple of sprogs already."

Tara frowned. "But...they talked like they want you here. Like you're gonna be the father, too." She did remember the ceremony -- it had been really nice, but she'd wondered ever since why they hadn't ever married Spike, too. They hadn't been a threesome at the time of Xander and Anya's wedding, but since then....

"Talked about me, eh?" Spike was saying, sounding very much like he didn't believe her.

"Anya was talking about how she wasn't going to spend eighteen years not spanking you, just because there were kids in the house."

Whatever Spike's poor me response had been going to be, it apparently got derailed. He gaped at her, mouth open and eyes wide. After a moment he shook his head. "Sorry, you said 'spanking'. Er, what?"

"Anya and Xander were concerned about how to talk about, and actually...um, do things, with kids in the house. They mentioned you by name."

Spike still looked a bit dazed -- or possibly turned on, in which case Tara wanted to end the conversation as quickly as possible. Then his face changed, a bit, and looked a bit like he had when he'd been four. "They really still want me around after they have kids?"

Tara got down from the chair, walked around and took Spike by the hand. She tugged, and he stood up, then let her lead him towards the bedroom. When he got to the door, he stood there for a moment, and she gave a deep, long-suffering sigh. "What? It's your bedroom, you know. No monsters in there."

"You haven't seen Anya at three in the morning with her hair in curlers."

"Yes, I have. She had this bizarre idea that we all had to have a sleepover party, a couple of years ago. Spike, for god's sake, go in there and talk to them."

Just for a second, Tara thought it would actually work. He'd push the door open and go in and she could go back to her tea and then crawl onto the couch and cuddle with Willow and all would be right with the world and there'd be no more offers of trips to the emergency room, at least until the morning. But then Spike put his hand down, and leaned against the wall, and shook his head again.

"They're just... feeling guilty. They're too *nice* to tell me to just bugger off. And they'll miss the sex."

Tara stared at him, open-mouthed, then wished she was tall enough to whap him on the head. After a second's thought, she let a levitated throw-pillow do the job for her. "*Anya's* too *nice* to tell you how she really feels?"

Spike almost looked like he might smile, for a second. "Believe it or not, she *does* know how to keep her mouth shut, when she wants to."

"And you think they're too nice to tell you to go, but they're sleazy enough to keep you around here just so they can have their own personal undead cabana boy?" Tara asked. "God -- Willow's right -- boys *do* go to Jupiter to get more stupider."

"I'm not--!" Spike retorted, then stopped -- presumably to lower his voice. Or because he realized Tara was right. Then he just shook his head, and Tara could see by the way his face fell, that he'd decided not to believe her.

She suddenly remembered that Spike had a history of being left behind by those he loved. Maybe Xander and Anya needed the whapping, for letting Spike get this insecure. She opened her mouth to tell him something really wise and convincing, not sure what that was but confident it would come out of her mouth readily enough, when the bedroom door opened. Xander stood there, looking mostly asleep and -- Tara eeped and looked away.

She peeked, though, intending to not look at Xander's naked bits, when neither Spike nor Xander said anything. She saw Xander pulling Spike to him by one arm, then kissing him. She peeked with both eyes when they kept kissing. She could tell that it wasn't a 'we keep you for sex' kiss. Wasn't even really a 'distract him with sex' embrace. This was the sort of kiss that made her need a bowl of chocolate ice cream and her blankets, so she could snuggle up and go 'awwww' to herself. Or to Willow, which would distract her with her own source of love-you-to-the-bottom-of-my-soul.

Spike stared down at the floor, though, when Xander finally released him. "How could you ever think we don't love you?" Xander asked him.

Spike was getting really good at that looking-at-the-floor thing, Tara noted. "I... Didn't think that," he said with sudden breeziness. "Everybody loves me, after all. I'm William the Bloody, America's Sweetheart."

Xander shook his head. "No, you're not."

"Yes, thank you. I was being sarcastic. It's where you say something that's exactly the opposite of what you mean, in a snotty tone, in order to make a point?"

"Really? Thank you for clarifying that. I'd been wondering," Xander said in a snotty tone. He put his hand on Spike's arm again. "That wasn't what I meant."

"He meant you're not William the Bloody," Anya said from behind him. Tara looked up, and thankfully didn't have to eep again, since Anya'd had the decency -- or the foresight -- to put on a robe before coming to the bedroom door.

Spike looked up at her too, a hurt expression on his face. "Well, thank you for pointing *that* out, Mrs. Harris, but I'm well aware I've become William the Domesticated."

Anya rolled her eyes. "Stop being a moron. Well, *try* to stop being a moron. I wasn't insulting your vamphood." She pushed past Xander and Spike, and walked to the desk that stood against the wall opposite the TV. Willow stirred slightly as she passed, and Anya bent down to tuck the covers back up under her chin, before returning with a handful of papers. "Do you know what these are?" She held them out to Spike.

He nodded, looking perplexed. "Sure. My fake immigration papers. Red and this one's," he pointed to Tara, "fake birth certificates and adoption stuff."

Anya nodded. "And what do they say your name is?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "William Harris. So? They're fake, they don't mean anything."

"They'll stand up in any court of law," Xander reminded him.

"Fine, so I can pretend I belong here, can I?" Spike said, bitterly. Tara could see the ghost of a movement of his hand -- reaching for the cigarette he didn't have, never smoked in the apartment anymore. She wondered suddenly how much he missed it.

Anya just shook her head, and handed over the last paper she'd been holding. Spike took it, read it, then frowned in confusion.

The confusion turned into annoyed anger. "Very funny. Why'd he send this?"

"Because we asked him to," Xander replied evenly. Tara couldn't see what the paper was.

Spike looked at it again, then up at Xander. "Why'd you think I'd need a marriage certificate? *It* wouldn't stand up in any court of law -- s'fake, says we're all three married. That ain't legal, pet."

Marriage certificate? Tara reached out for the paper in Spike's hands, and began reading. Tired and achy and sick as she was, she still felt like cheering. Just not loudly, so her head wouldn't ring. Xander and Anya were smiling at Spike.

"It isn't fake, Spike. Well, technically you didn't sign it. It *is* your signature, though," Xander told him. "It's real and it's valid and it means the only way you're getting out of here is by divorcing us. We'd, um, planned on telling you about it after we got Willow and Tara back into their own place. Had dinner and...events planned. Sorry." He shrugged.

Tara glanced up to find Spike looking totally dumbstruck. She showed him the marriage certificate, again. "Look, Spike, who signed it as the officiator."

Spike looked. Looked again. "Angel?"

"Yup. Your Sire married you to us. We own you, now." Anya smiled, and her tone was light, as if she was teasing him.

"It took an extra day or so for him to get the right form," Xander added. "So this thing only showed up this morning."

"You think the bureaucracy's bad on Earth, just try ordering something from the Tribunal of Demonic Affairs on short notice," Anya said. "You don't know *how* many favors I had to call in."

Spike blinked, and scanned the paper again, studying the letterhead as if it were the first time he'd looked at it. Tara squinted up at it, and realized that the seal was *not* that of the State of California. Not unless the bear had grown three extra eyes and a set of tentacles.

"But this is... this is real!" he said, looking up at Anya and Xander incredulously.

"Duh, that's what we said," Xander answered.

"No, but-- this thing's legal in at least 13 dimensions. You two get that? You understand you just married yourself off to a demon in the eyes of everybody but the United States of I-Can't-See-You-And-I'm-Pretending-You're-Not-There ?"

Anya put her hands on her hips, and tapped her foot, not speaking. Just looking at him. Finally she rolled her eyes, and said, "Excuse me, Junior. Who was a demon the longest, in this room?"

Spike's mouth shut with a silent snap. He looked down at the paper again. "Oh. Er. Right."

No one spoke for a minute. Tara was wishing her cold would vanish, so she could do more than hold back a yawn. And what did you get Spike, Xander, and Anya as a wedding present?

Spike just kept looking at the marriage certificate, and shifting from one foot to the other. Xander waited, leaning against the doorway -- still naked. Tara wondered if he even realized it.

"It's notarized," Spike said, rather numbly. As if that made even more of a difference between fake and real.

"Yes, I believe Angel's new boyfriend witnessed it," Anya said. "He's from another dimension, but he's really quite nice."

"Boyfriend?" Spike stared at her. Then he read the certificate. "Krevlornswath of the Deathwok Clan? Who the bloody hell is Krevlornswath? How long have they been seeing each other? Why the hell didn't anyone mention this before?"

"Relax, blondie," Xander interrupted his rant. "They've been dating for almost two days. Cordelia says he's really sweet -- um, Lorn, that is. She thinks Angel's sweet, too, but she never actually says that out loud."

"Cos we'd gang up and have 'er committed," Spike replied distractedly. Tara wondered if he had an automatic Angel-insulting response system built into his chip, so he didn't even have to think about it anymore. Spike looked down at the paper again. "And... excuse me, *Wesley* signed as my other Sire? Since when does *he* own me?"

Anya smiled, then yanked Spike close to her by his collar. "He doesn't own you. I do. They needed another signature, and Drusilla didn't answer at her last-known number, so Wesley volunteered. I think the red crayon adds a festive touch."

"Oh."

"Do you have any other complaints, before you get kissed?"

Spike blinked, and Tara yawned, and so she missed anything Spike might have said during the two seconds before Anya was kissing Spike in that same chocolate-ice-cream-so-glad-I'm-not-a-single-person-having-to-watch-this way. Tara tore her eyes away from it for a second, to glance at Xander's reaction, and managed to hold back another eep.

Note to self, she thought -- when staring at a naked man watching his wife kiss his legal-in-at-least-13-dimensions husband, keep your eyes above neck-level. Well, it wasn't *her* fault she was only three and a half feet tall!

She diverted her gaze back to Spike and Anya -- and decided maybe she should sneak off and dive under the blankets. Maybe snuggle Willow and think about things they could do a couple weeks from now. Maybe wake Willow up so they could both surreptitiously watch...if they were gonna stay in the doorway -- "ACHOO!"

She grinned, and found Spike, Anya, and Xander looking down at her. Xander made an 'eep' sound and covered himself with his hands. Tara looked at him as if she had no idea what those things were for. It occurred to her that, for the next several years, she was going to get to say "I've seen you naked." How much ice cream would that get her?

"ACHOO!!"

Never mind the ice cream. How soon could she get back under the blankets with some juice and echinacea inside her, so she could sleep through having a cold? She found out -- not long at all, when a vampire scoops you up and carries you to the couch, and an ex-demoness fetches the juice, and a naked man scurries into his room to get a robe.

She tugged on Spike's shirt as he put her down and pulled one of a million blankets up to her chin. "Hey -- when you and Xander and Anya have kids..."

He blinked at her, and his eyes went away somewhere again, but this time it appeared to be a *good* place. "Oh. Yeah. Er." He smiled the most dopey smile she'd ever seen on a vampire, including the ones that Angel had given Spike and Xander when they were four-year-olds. "Yeah. Kids. Er-- when we have kids, what?"

Tara yawned again, and didn't even have to bother trying to look innocent. She was too tired, and it seemed like a perfectly logical question to her, anyway. "You'll still be my daddy, right?"

Spike looked for a second, between her increasingly-more-frequent blinks, as if he wasn't sure whether she was joking or not. Whether he should be frightened, now, or wait until morning. Finally he leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Got the papers to prove it, don't I?"

"Good. 'Cause I want a pony," she said, as she drifted off to sleep.

She had a dream about vampire ponies which defended her against school teachers. The weird part, was, Willow kept offering her a popsicle.

*****