"Wesley... where are you hiding... I have cookies..." Cordelia's voice sing-songed through the lobby, and Wesley winced.

"Honestly, Cordelia. I'm not hiding, I'm sitting at my desk."

She walked over. "Oh. I just couldn't see you over that stack of books. I have cookies-- you want some?"

"I'm not a child, Cordy," he began. Then he blinked. "What kind of cookies?"

She set the plate down on top of his Concordance to the Gallegian Chronicles. "Oatmeal-raisin. And I *know* you're not a kid. Yet. I just thought you might like a cookie."

Wesley caught himself giving her a dirty look, and smoothed out his displeasure into a polite nod. "Thank you, Cordelia." He took one, then stopped. "Er, did you bake them yourself?" He saw Gunn walk up behind her, and make waving motions. Wesley kept himself from staring at him, until Gunn began gesturing towards his throat and sticking his tongue out. "Are you trying to say you've been bitten by Angel?" Wesley asked him.

Gunn gave *him* a dirty look as Cordelia whirled around. "Gunn! You want another cookie?"

"Er, ah, no thanks, trying to watch my figure." He patted his stomach.

"What figure?"

"I'll watch it for you, if you like," Wesley offered.

"Eeew, stop it, that's creepy." Cordelia wrinkled her nose. Wesley gave her his most withering stare.

"Just because I *look* like a child..."

"No, it's always creepy," she said, snatching the plate of cookies away. "Fine. You two don't appreciate my attempts to make this place friendly and homey, it's your problem."

Gunn mouthed the word 'Homey?' over Cordelia's shoulder, and did a gangsta rap gesture. Wesley chuckled, which somehow came out as a giggle.

"Laugh at me. See if I care. Angel will eat my cooking."

"I'll what?" Angel asked, stepping into the office. Cordelia grinned and held out the plate. He smiled, a bit forcedly. "Cookies. How...I don't eat, but otherwise I'd--"

"Have one," Cordelia told him.

"I'll have one," he repeated, taking a cookie. Wesley and Gunn watched him, Wesley wondering if he'd actually bite into it, or try to distract them all while he got rid of it. "Gee, these look yummy," Angel began.

Wesley noticed that no one was looking at him -- so he took his own cookie and slid it underneath a book.

"I saw that, Wesley."

"Traitor."

Angel eyed him warily. "Since when were we on the same side? I still have bruises, you know."

Wesley watched him palm his cookie, and magically disappear it into his leather jacket. "Saving it for later?" he asked sweetly.

Cordelia turned to look at Angel, who spread his arms wide, and made munching noises. "Mmm. Dewishus." He fake-chewed a bit more, then asked, "Can I get the recipe?"

"It's the tollhouse recipe," she replied, sounding doubtful. "On the side of the tube of cookie-dough."

"You mean the tube of 'cut 'em and bake 'em' cookie dough?" Gunn asked, and Wesley could see him reaching for the plate. He considered warning him -- but refrained. There were some things a man had to learn on his own.

She frowned at Gunn as he took another cookie, but waited until he'd actually taken a bite before saying, "I always make my own dough, of course, but I use the tube of dough to tell me what temperature to put the oven on."

Gunn stopped chewing. Then he made the ultimate mistake-- one that Wesley had made himself, on at least one occasion. He tried to swallow what he still had in his mouth, without chewing.

"Does someone want to help him?" Wesley asked after a few seconds. "I would, but I'm not really equipped to do the Heimlich maneuver any more." He wasn't *really* choking, just coughing and making funny faces, but it was enough to make Cordelia glare at them all, and Angel rush over to Gunn, face stricken with guilt.

"I'm so sorry I didn't warn you, Gunn," Angel began, and started to put his arms around Gunn's waist.

Wesley watched, amused, as Gunn yanked himself away, still coughing. "The last time you tried that, you broke three of my ribs. Back off!"

Cordelia had her hands on her hips, now, and was glaring at Angel and Gunn. Both men started giving her sheepish, what'd we do we didn't mean it aren't we cute don't kill us looks.

"Angel, don't forget to remove the cookie from your pocket before your coat gets laundered." Wesley sat back in his chair -- scooting on the copy of Truncale's Wisdom. Serving as a booster was the best use he'd found for the book, yet. Angel turned his expression onto Wesley, and it became a 'don't forget I could kill you a thousand different ways' look. Wesley flipped open a book at random and glanced down at it. "Last time it took the cleaners forever to get the chocolate out."

"Last time?" Cordelia asked. "What last time? My chocolate chip fudge cookies?!"

Angel shook his head, rapidly. "No, no, those were great. He's talking about..." Wesley looked up to find Angel glaring at him again.

"Yes? What was I talking about?"

"Getting outside in the fresh air and sunshine?" Angel suggested. "I mean, don't you want to go play in the park, or something?"

Wesley had to grin. "Are you offering to take me? In the fresh air and sunshine?"

"Well, no, But I'm sure Gunn and Cordy would love to get out of the office. You could go ride on those bouncy things with the pelican heads." Angel sounded like he'd got quite familiar with bouncy playground equipment, during his extended tour as nanny for mini-Xander-and-Spike.

Wesley raised an eyebrow. "Need I remind you that I am *not* in fact a child?"

"Didn't stop Spike and Xander." Angel shrugged.

"Yes, and my mental state is so much like theirs, I can see why you assumed I would enjoy behaving like a moron for entertainment." Wesley tried turning his attention back to his books. It wasn't that he expected them to leave, but he did hope they would get the hint. He was *still* an adult, in all respects save the one.

"You don't have to act like a moron," Cordelia pointed out. "But you *should* get outside, have some fun."

"I assure you, I am quite--"

"You're gonna spend all day behind those books," Gunn interrupted. "I think you need to get out. Relax, enjoy yourself."

Wesley placed his finger in the book he had been studying, then closed it, so everyone would have a clearer view of his disapproving scowl. He thought he did a fairly decent job of hiding the wince, when he discovered that either his finger was much smaller than he was used to, or the book was much heavier.

"I'll have plenty of time to do all of those childish things you're all so keen on seeing me do, and undoubtedly taking pictures of to use against me for the rest of my life, after I've succumbed to the regression bit of the spell. When I won't particularly *care* how idiotic I look, or how much actual work there is to be done in the meanwhile." He opened the book again, and very carefully did *not* put his finger in his mouth to suck on it.

"Would we do that?" Gunn asked, not even trying to sound sincere in his objection.

"I've already bought extra film," Cordelia said.

"I have tapes for the camcorder," Angel added.

Wesley wondered if he shouldn't have made arrangements to stay the month with Rupert. Even if Rupert were staying with Buffy and Dawn -- surely those two wouldn't ...no. They would. Wesley sighed.

Picking up one of the smaller tomes, he slid off his chair. Now shorter than the desk, he couldn't see the three watching him -- and wasn't particularly keen on seeing their expressions. What he wanted was to find some quiet spot where he could read.

"Wes..." Gunn began, and Wesley cut him off.

"Please, Charles? Just let me be, for now?"

Gunn walked over and pulled his chair back. "I was just gonna say, maybe we should grab some books, and read in the bedroom? If you want to."

Wesley looked up at him. He appeared to be utterly serious, holding out a hand for Wesley to take. Wesley grinned, after a moment, and placed a book in it. Then another, on top of that.

Gunn didn't say a word until Wesley had five books stacked. Then he only said, "How long you planning on being upstairs reading?"

Wesley looked up, and went for an innocent expression. It seemed to be working much better for him now, as a child, than it ever had before. "All day?"

Gunn muttered something which Wesley couldn't quite make out, then he looked over at Angel. "You got cable in that room, right?"

Angel's brow furrowed for a moment, then his mouth twitched, as if he were afraid that smiling more than once during the same week would confuse the natives. "There's rope in the basement, I guess, and you know where we keep the chains, but do you really think you shoul--"

That was all he managed to get out before Gunn was smacking him on the back of the head. "I *know* you did not just say that. He's *four*!"

"I am *not*--" Wesley shook his head, and piled another book atop the stack in Gunn's arms. "Forget it. Come on, I want to get *something* accomplished today, while I still have a working brain."

Gunn, still glaring at Angel, headed for the stairs, and Wesley followed.

******

Gunn patiently flipped the page of the book Wes was reading. They were settled in a chair, Wesley on his lap -- because Gunn *could* and he was gonna take every opportunity to hold Wes, no matter what the squirt thought about it.

He was patiently flipping pages -- not because he read faster than Wesley and had finished the page five minutes ago. He was patiently flipping because he'd tried reading it, and gotten bored by the third page. He hadn't told Wesley, because watching Wes read was...all right, fine. He was gob-smacked, and he finally understood what that phrase meant. He liked watching his lover read.

They'd been doing a lot of it the last couple of days -- no matter how hard they tried to get Wesley to go *out* and do stuff, be a kid, he still preferred to stay indoors and read. Gunn thought he was hiding, rather than just being really into his books. Once his emotions caught up with the age of his body, that would change. He hoped.

It had already started, though. The book on Gunn's lap wasn't an obscure academic treatise on dead or evil things. It was Nero Wolfe. Still adult reading, but, in Gunn's opinion, a step forward.

Gunn was so engrossed in looking down at the top of Wesley's head, watching it move slightly from side to side every so often as Wes glanced back at the previous page like he was checking to see if he'd missed a clue, that he didn't notice Wes tapping him on the arm until the small face was turned up and looking at him. "I'm ready to turn the page," Wesley told him with a small grin. "Unless you're still reading."

He coughed softly and shook his head. "No, I'm about done." He faked finishing the last paragraph, then he turned the page.

"I was wondering-- do like you this one better than the last? I've been told that the Robert Goldsborough books are written just as well as the Rex Stout, but I've always thought they were missing something, somehow."

Gunn just looked at him. "Wes, the last one was a Sherlock Holmes novel. I'm not *that* spaced."

"So you're saying you noticed the re-appearance of the woman from the cafe?"

Gunn opened his mouth to say 'of course', then he realized that Wesley was just as likely to be making it up. However, he couldn't call him on it, because then Wes would either laugh at him, or pout.

"But you *are* 'spaced'. Else you wouldn't have denied being 'that spaced'," Wesley continued. He sighed. "If you don't want to read--"

"Hey, man, I never said I didn't want to read with you."

Wide eyes narrowed at him, and Gunn had to control the laughter which threatened to annoy Wesley even *more*. Four year olds just couldn't pull off the 'die, street scum' look. "Then you also noted the arrival of Justin Pierce? And the policeman's reaction?"

Gunn thought for a moment, then stuck his tongue out. "Anybody ever tell you you're a mean little kid?"

"If I were a mean little kid," Wes replied, "I would have grabbed your tongue and pinched it. Or something equally Spike-like. I'm just a poor innocent waif whose caregiver doesn't want to take an interest in his intellectual stimulation."

"I'm down with the intellectual stimulation, Wes. I like to watch you get stimulated, trust me." Wesley raised an eyebrow, and Gunn decided he really needed to pull out his own tongue and cut it off with the nearest sharp object. "I mean, normally. When you're the right size."

Wesley's eyebrow went higher, and Gunn decided it was maybe time to go yell at Angel some more about not putting in cable TV. Or getting a dish. Heck, a *radio* would be nice. "Why don't you just read your book, and let me get back to what I was doing?"

"And what *were* you doing, since you weren't reading?" Wesley asked, his young voice deceptively challenging. Teasing him.

Gunn smiled. "Watching you read."

At that, Wesley flushed, and turned his face. He fingered the page for a moment, staring at it as though he were just going back to reading. The red crept up to his ear, until even the tips were bright pink. Gunn reached up and flicked it, lightly.

"Stop that," Wesley ordered. Trying to sound like he was really annoyed, but Gunn could tell the difference.

"What, this?" He flicked Wesley's ear again, and one thin shoulder rose up, as Wes tried to turn his head and rub his ear against it. "Why, you ticklish or something?"

"I thought you wanted to watch me read?"

"Oh, I do. Please. Go about your business." Gunn tried hard to keep a straight face as Wes frowned suspiciously at him, then turned back to his book.

Gunn sat quietly for a moment, keeping his hands in full view, perfectly innocent places, not doing a thing here, officer. He moved one hand an inch, and Wesley placed his on top of it.

Like he could hold Gunn's hand down. He grinned. Moved his hand another inch. Wesley pushed down on his hand, but there was no strength there at all. He could easily overpower-- Gunn froze.

He sat still for seconds, then, staring at his hand underneath Wesley's. Then he leaned forward and gave that short brush of sandy-brown hair a kiss. Wesley turned his head, giving him a look that said he knew Gunn had lost his mind.

"What was that for?" It was for wondering if Wes had any idea how much power he really had, but Gunn wasn't about to say that, so he just smiled. "Stop that." He kept smiling. Wesley's eyes narrowed. "You're frightening me. I'm going to go tell Cordelia you're trying to scare me. She'll probably feed me ice cream, and shout things at you."

"Uh-huh. And that's different from last week, how exactly?"

Wesley's face screwed up in concentration for a moment, before he said thoughtfully, "I doubt I shall be able to eat more than two bowls."

"With caramel sauce and those little sprinkle things?"

"And whipped cream."

Gunn and Wesley stared at each other, neither one moving nor speaking, then in one smooth move Wesley closed the book, Gunn set him on the floor and stood, then they took each other's hand and headed for the door.

When they got to the lobby, they found Cordelia sitting at the computer, muttering words at it that Gunn used to think a high-maintenance chick like Cordy wouldn't know. Or at least have been brought up to say in public.

"Hey, watch the language, lady. You wanna scar Wes for life?" Gunn walked around the counter and looked over her shoulder. "What's the prob?"

"I think Cordelia's said most of those things in my presence before," Wes told him, as he tried to peer over the desk, and failing that, shrugged, and walked around behind Gunn. "Never *about* me, of course."

Cordelia must have been really frustrated, because she didn't even respond to that, just clacked a few more keys, clicked the mouse twice, and let out a word that had Gunn blinking, even though he'd learned a lot more about Cordy's vocabulary over the past couple of years than he might have wanted to.

"I'm trying to do an online funds transfer-- pay the electric bill on this place, since you-know-who can't seem to remember to-- but it doesn't want to recognize our bank account number."

"Are you sure you have the correct password?" Wesley asked, peering up towards the computer screen.

Cordelia glared at him. "Of *course* I have the correct password. And I typed the number correctly!"

"Let me see," Wesley leaned forward, reaching for the mouse. He paused, and glanced at Cordelia. "Do you mind?"

"No, by all means, fix the stupid thing." Cordelia said generously. Then Gunn was fighting laughter again as she picked Wes up and plopped him down on her lap.

"Cordelia!" Wesley sounded scandalized.

"What? There was a time when you would've tripped over your own tongue to sit on my lap," she said, scooting forward so that a still-glaring Wes could reach the keyboard. "If it makes you feel any better, I promise not to enjoy it too much."

"There was a time when I thought that the Pet Shop Boys were the epitome of modern music, too, but that doesn't mean I haven't come to my senses since then." Wes tapped on the keyboard for a while, frowning at the screen in such studious concentration that Gunn had to fight the urge to reach under the counter and grab Cordy's camera.

The only thing that stopped him was the sight of Angel walking towards them from the back hallway, one finger in front of his lips, holding the camcorder in his other hand.

"Pet Shop Boys?" Gunn asked, grinning, trying to keep Wesley distracted. "Like, How Much Is That Doggie In The Window?"

"I was quite young at the time," Wesley said severely, glancing up at Gunn.

He grinned. "Yeah, and now that you're *all* grown up..." he replied in his best 'aren't you a cute widdle boy' voice. Wes' severe look grew more severe.

Wesley turned back to the computer screen. "There, I've accessed the account. I don't know what you did," he began, as if he were thinking 'but it was probably just typing in the number wrong'. He was smart enough not to say so aloud, especially when there was no way he could get out of range in time.

"Thanks." Cordelia reached around and began typing again, one-handed. Wesley tried to slip off her lap, and found her arm in his way.

"Excuse me, but if you don't have any more need of my services..." he tried. Cordelia didn't even look down at him.

"Oh, no. You're not going anywhere until this thing goes through. I want a *witness*, the next time it gives me that 'you're a total airhead, please bank somewhere else' message."

"It really said that?" Gunn asked.

"No, but I can read between the lines," she muttered.

Wes wasn't amused. "I can certainly witness just as well standing on the floor."

"Yeah, but then I wouldn't get the free lap-dance," Cordelia said. Wes squirmed, not lowering himself to answer that one, and she finally let him slide down. "Geez, Wesley. Relax. Take a joke."

"Perhaps when I'm sufficiently brain-dead to find it amusing," he replied, but Gunn could tell he wasn't as upset as he was trying to sound. At least, he *thought* so, but then Wes turned to face Angel, and placed his hands on his hips. "I assume you have enough video?"

"Er, uh." Angel lowered the camcorder -- Gunn wondered if he turned it off, or if he was trying to be sneaky. "Yeah, for now," he managed in a forced-casual tone.

"Fine. Now, if you will excuse me?" Wesley walked away from Cordelia's desk -- back straight and one foot in front of the other, very clearly *not* stomping, no tantrums here, but he was definitely off-balance. Except -- he was heading for the kitchen. Gunn was about to follow, when Wesley looked back over his shoulder. "Are you coming? Or shall I break my neck climbing onto the counters?"

"Yeah, I'm coming. Chill." Gunn followed him into the kitchen, and opened the freezer door. "What's your pleasure? Chocolate chocolate chunk, chocolate fudge ripple, or chocolate brownie supreme?"

"Don't we have vanilla? I remember putting some in the cart." Wesley was leaning against a chair, his arms crossed.

"Yeah, I just thought you might be in a chocolate kinda mood," Gunn answered, pulling out the carton of plain vanilla anyway.

Wesley frowned. "I'm not upset. And I'm certainly not Cordelia."

"I was just sayin'--"

"That I needed to be placated? Fed chocolate until my brain shuts down?"

"When you put it that way -- yeah." He opened the carton of ice cream and grabbed two bowls still sitting by the sink, where they'd been left to dry from the last ice cream raid.

Wesley's lips tightened, but he said nothing. Gunn began scooping out ice cream, and considered how much chocolate syrup, caramel sauce, and whipped cream he'd need to get Wesley to admit he *was* upset. "They don't mean anything by it," he said quietly.

'I know that," Wesley said. "If I thought they were really trying to annoy me, I wouldn't put up with it at all."

Gunn paused in reaching for the chocolate sprinkles, and grinned at Wes. "Well, I didn't say they weren't trying to *annoy* you. But how's that different from any other day?"

"I--" Wesley shook his head. "It's not. I understand that."

"But it still bothers you." Gunn had finished with Wesley's bowl and was handing it to him, before he got a response to his statement.

"I didn't say that it bothered me."

"Didn't have to. It's written all over your 'polite, not showing a damn thing' face." He grabbed the bottle of chocolate syrup and began drowning his ice cream.

"Very funny," Wesley retorted, mildly.

Gunn waited until his bowl was almost full of syrup, before answering. Some things required concentration. "Yeah, I just got too good at translating that lack of expression." He glanced sideways at Wesley, and was pleased to find him look briefly guilty. Not because Wes ought to have been feeling guilty -- even though he *should* have been -- but because Wesley was that much closer to letting that mask drop, when it was just them. "They're being a little freer with the 'let's embarrass the English British guy,' though, aren't they?" he added, knowing that what Cordelia had done was at least three levels up from what she would normally ever do.

Of course, it was *easier* to put Wes on your lap, now that he was small enough for it. Gunn figured they were all indulging in repressed Wesley-affection. Wesley just hadn't gotten used to it, yet. Either that, or it was just that now he was so darned *cute*, none of them could help themselves.

"Something in that question was redundant," Wes answered, staring at his ice cream, but not actually doing anything with it. "Possibly the entire question. Yes, all right, it bothers me. You *know* it bothers me, so why are you bothering to ask?"

"Because it bothers you?" Gunn grinned. Wesley dug his spoon into his ice cream and looked for a second like he was seriously considering flinging some at Gunn, but he didn't.

"Yes, well I can't *help* it, you know. If I could just turn my reactions on and off like Cordelia's computer, it would probably be more helpful for all concerned, but it doesn't work that way."

Gunn set down his bowl on the counter and walked over to Wesley. "Nobody's askin' you not to react, or think or feel or do whatever you wanna do, Wes. That's you and your damn English British whatever. But I bet there's some kinda middle place between kicking anybody who picks you up, and pretending it doesn't bug you."

"I didn't kick Cordelia." Wesley looked down at his bowl. "At least not intentionally. And I haven't kicked you all morning. Despite your deserving it."

Gunn gave him a quick smile. "Yeah, well, how about this - 'please don't pick me up'?" Wesley didn't answer, swirling his spoon around in the melting ice cream. Gunn waited, then, "Wes?"

"That never used to work," he said so quietly Gunn was surprised he heard it at all.

For two seconds Gunn resisted the urge to give him a hard hug. Then he set his and Wes' bowls aside, ignored Wes' look of astonishment, and knelt down to gather him up. Hugged him as hard as he could, and not because *Wesley* needed it.

*****
Part 6:

It was a simple assignment. Anya had *stressed* that it was a simple assignment. Which meant, of course, that they were sure to mess it up. "Your mission, Spike and Xander, whether or not you choose to accept it: drive to the Safeway, take the little witches with you, and buy food that all of us can actually eat. Since you've devoured everything else in the apartment during my absence. I'll be home from the Magic Box at nine, to accept your field report."

Or something like that. Spike had actually been paying more attention to the new blouse Anya was almost wearing. After two weeks of not being able to properly appreciate the female form, it was nice to have one around again that he wouldn't be slapped for staring at. He hadn't been worried-- what, after all, could go wrong in a simple trip to the market, with Xander and two pint-sized friends who still had all of their adult faculties?

He supposed that maybe his brain cells hadn't recovered from being a fourth their normal size. Or something.

"Maybe we should go to Albertson's," Willow was saying. Spike thought she might be right -- they'd only been in this grocery store for ten minutes, and already the manager was saying something about kicking them out or he'd have security escort them.

"I think he's over-reacting," Tara said quietly, and Spike agreed with her. He looked over at the tipped-over display of fruit juice and crackers. It wasn't anything that couldn't be fixed with a mop -- grocery stores had lots of those things, right?

"I'd agree with you, normally," Willow replied, and the store manager was giving her a surprised and confused look. "But I think once the beef jerky display started the domino effect, we lost all claims at it being a simple accident."

"But it *was* an accident!" Spike added -- again. He doubted anyone would believe him this time, either.

Willow looked up at him. "True. But I don't think it qualifies as 'simple' any longer."

Xander, meanwhile, was giving him that 'I'm gonna thump you good, when we get home' glare. And not the good sort of thumping. "You realize this narrows down the places in Sunnydale where we can shop without being asked to leave before we even get in the door, to *three* ?" he growled.

Spike sniffed. "The incident at the Farmers' Market was *not* my fault."

"You jumped up and down on a pallet of fresh watermelons until the whole center aisle was covered in melon guts," Xander accused. "How was this 'not your fault' again?"

"I thought they were Horkwroth eggs! They were *moving*, like they were about to hatch. I was just saving your skinny human arse."

"There was an *earthquake*, Spike. Everything was moving."

"Right, so why pick on me? They wrote it off as natural disaster damages, anyway."

"You *are* a natural disaster. Or an unnatural one." Xander was moving closer to Spike in a way that usually meant he was about to get thumped. Good sort or not-good sort, he wasn't sure; these sort of arguments could end either way.

"Look, if sprite number 2 there hadn't squealed when she saw the wicker chair display--"

"I wasn't squealing about the wicker chairs," Tara objected.

"You'd blame all this on a *four* year old child?" Xander interrupted them both, loudly as he gestured at the mess.

Spike looked around. "Um, yeah. Haven't you ever been around four year olds before?"

The manager was starting to move towards them menacingly -- Spike debated if a good scare would be sufficiently amusing to counter how *unamused* Xander was likely to be.

"If. You. Vamp. I. Will. Stake. You. Slowly." Xander hissed, low enough for only Spike to hear.

"That a promise?"

Xander gave him a look that could congeal blood. The manager was just getting close enough for Spike to hear his high-blood-pressure rising a notch, and Xander's was sounding like it wanted to join the competition, when Willow and Tara surprised everyone, Spike most of all. They burst into loud sobs.

He looked down to see both little girls screwing up their faces, and what sure as hell looked like real tears falling down their cheeks. Without even thinking about it, Spike found himself bending down to pick up Tara, while Xander grabbed Willow and lifted her up. "What're you up to?" Spike tried to say, but all that came out as he stared at the tow-headed girl in his arms, who was sobbing as if her heart would break, was "There, there..."

The store manager looked like he was about to faint, or have a heart-attack, or run and hide. Spike ignored him for the moment, as he looked over to see if Xander could tell him what was going on. Maybe they'd regressed really fast, or something, and Spike would have to offer to eat the scary man who'd scared them. Hopefully the scary man was Xander. He liked eating Xander, and it wouldn't set his chip off.

He patted Tara on the back, and found himself watching a confused Xander hugging Willow and telling her everything was all right. He was obviously as clueless as Spike.

Finally Willow began hiccuping and sobbing words, and they both leaned in to hear: "Is he gonna arrest us? We didn't do it! I didn't touch anything!"

Spike hid a smile as the store manager went from flushed, to pale in the space of a second. He looked positively vampiric when Willow turned her eyes on him, with the tears still spilling over the edges, so they seemed magnified to about twice their actual size.

"You're not gonna take us to jail, are you? Um...um..." She was still making little choking noises, and after her question, she buried her face in Xander's shirt, as if that had been the extent of her four-year-old bravery.

"I don't wanna go to jail. I want Mommy!" Tara cried, taking over center stage. By now, Spike was having to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning, and he would have traded round three of the 'Welcome Home, Anya' party, to have a camcorder in his hands, right now. Well, no, he wouldn't. But it was close.

The manager was shaking his head. "Oh. Ah. No, little girl. Nobody's going to jail. I'm sure this was all an accident, and we can..."

Willow commenced wailing even harder. "I want my mommy, too!"

"What am I, chopped liver?" Xander muttered. Probably only Spike heard him, since Tara turned her own sobs up a notch, so that the two of them seemed to be playing 'Dueling Hissyfit' in D Minor.

"Just...er... please, go on with your shopping. We'll have this cleaned up in no time," the manager was saying. The girls paid no attention. He was turning blue, now-- Spike was impressed. Where had all his blood drained away to? If he wasn't using it, there were plenty of deserving vampires in the immediate vicinity, after all.

"Come on, let's go buy groceries so we can go home and see Mommy," Xander was saying to Willow.

Spike opened his mouth to add a bribe to buy cookies and cake mix, then stopped. Then mentally smacked himself for second-guessing buying junk food for not-really-four-year-olds. He turned to Tara and said, very deliberately, "Would you like some pudding? We can make Daddy buy pudding, and some cool whip."

Tara stopped wailing and looked at him -- her eyes wide and clear, despite the amount of tears that had been pouring out of them. She nodded, slowly, as if the very idea was a strange and precious one. Like they hadn't all spent most of the last two weeks eating ice cream.

"Sure, if *Uncle* Spike remembers that it's his turn to do the dishes," Xander said as he plopped Willow into the seat in the front of their mostly-empty cart.

Tara got an evil gleam in her eye, and Spike had to blink at her for a second, to make sure he hadn't suddenly started reflecting, or something, because she looked just like him, for a moment. "I wanted to sit in the seat," she wailed, and the store manager backed away. Desperately trying to look as much like the man-height wall of extra-fluffy Charmin he was standing in front of, as possible.

"Here, mate, could you grab us an empty cart? Somebody hasn't had her nap today, and..."

The balding man had disappeared, and reappeared with another cart, before Spike even managed to get the entire sentence out. He also had something else in his hand-- grape lollipops, which he handed to a still-pouty Willow and Tara. The two girls looked suspiciously at him, before gleefully ripping the plastic covers off, and popping the candy in their mouths.

Xander waited until they'd both pushed their carts round the corner, before grinning at Willow and holding out a hand for her to high-five him. Spike rolled his eyes, and jealously watched the two mini-sprites suck on their treats. "I wanna know why *they* get lollies, and I don't," he said.

"Because you're a grown-up," Xander explained in a patient voice.

"So? I could have been four again. Let what's his name off the hook."

Willow looked smug. "It's because we throw better tantrums. No one can resisting a hysterical little girl."

Spike growled, and loomed over her. "Oh, yeah? I ever tell you how many hysterical little girls I've eaten?" Then he blinked and grabbed his head. His hand found the sticky grape lollipop that Tara had thrown at him. Pulling it -- and several hairs -- free was less painful than the chip-shot he got when he growled at her, for real. At which point Tara began wailing, again, that she'd lost her lolly.

Spike stared at her, waiting her out. *He* knew she wasn't regressed yet, so she was just messing about with him. He *knew* it. And he could wait...

At least another five seconds, until the high-pitched noise started to hurt his over-sensitive ears, and the smug look on Willow's face started to hurt his over-sensitive pride, and Spike himself started having these strange feelings, something like indigestion, whenever he looked at Tara's disappointed little face...

Growling again, he pulled a packet of lollies off the shelf above his head, ripped it open, and handed one to Tara. Then, since it was open anyway, pulled one out for himself, unwrapped it, and popped it in his mouth.

Xander just stared at him. "You're not supposed to open things before you pay for them..." he said sternly.

"Good thing I'm not paying for them, then, innit," Spike mumbled around his lollipop.

Xander gave him a glare that said he was in trouble, but the kind that might get him spanked, later. Then Xander reached over and took the opened bag of lollipops out of Spike's hand, removed a green lollipop, and set the bag down in the cart. Then he began pushing the cart away, towards the fruits and vegetables.

"Xan?" Spike called after him, once he was far enough away to justify Spike raising his voice. "Where are you going? We don't need any more cucumbers. Or zucchini. Or bananas."

A woman pushing her own cart past stopped, gave them both a dubious glance. Then she snickered when Willow asked, "Why do you and Uncle Spike buy so many zucchini?"

Xander blushed a delicate shade of rose, while Spike waggled an eyebrow at Willow, ignoring the woman, or rather, pretending to. "Because veggies are *good* for growing boys."

"Then why don't you eat them?" she shot back.

"Cos they taste like crap," he said honestly. "But your Dad likes 'em." Xander was moving towards tomato coloured, now. "Don't you, Dad?"

Xander took a deep breath, then turned a truly *nasty* glare on Spike. "Yes. I like melons, too, though. In fact, at the moment, I like melons so much better than zucchini, that I may never buy zucchini again."

Spike blinked at him, then pouted. "But melons like zucchini. Melons like watching zucchini."

Tara raised her hand, timidly. When all three were looking at her, she said, "I want popcorn." Spike blinked at her, and glanced over to find that he wasn't the only one who had no idea how she'd gone from sex-talk-in-public, to popcorn. She blinked at them, incredulous. "Or carmel corn. I don't mind which."

Spike and Xander exchanged glances, then Spike looked at a perplexed Willow. "Up to you, Red. She's your girlfriend."

Willow nodded, seriously. Then she asked, "Tara? Honey? Why do you want popcorn?"

Tara explained by reaching over towards one of the endcaps, and grabbing a package of salami. Spike was astounded that the shy little witch was joining in the fun -- when she threw it at him. Then she said, "Because it flies better?"

The woman with the cart had moved away by now, after shaking her head and blinking repeatedly.

Xander rolled his cart back to Spike's, and glared at him again. "Someone's going to take them away, if they hear us talking like that, and get the wrong idea."

Spike stared at him, perplexed. "What wrong idea?"

"The idea that we weren't talking about fruits and vegetables."

"But we *were* talking about fruits and vegetables. Well, *I* was. Dunno what *you* were talking about."

Willow giggled, and Xander turned his glare on her. "You weren't helping, either, young lady."

"Oh, relax, *Daddy*. Nobody thinks a four-year-old is making sexual insinuations-- except you, because you're a big perv." She said it quietly, while fishing for another lollipop from the bag in the cart below her.

"I am *not* a perv!" Xander objected, then snapped his jaw shut as if realizing that yelling such a claim in the middle of the grocery store was probably not the best way to convince anyone that he wasn't talking about kinky sex in front of two little kids. He scowled, and snapped, "Let's get the groceries so we can go home."

Spike nodded. Then, as Xander began pushing his cart towards the spinach, said casually, "Yeah, otherwise Mommy will spank us *all*." Xander stopped, and bowed his head. Spike gave him a thoughtful look, even though he was staring at his shoes. Or his eyelids. "Wait, or would she *not* spank us?"

"Spike?"

"Yes, love of my unlife?" Spike gave the two giggling girls a wink.

"Go get the milk. And the cereal, bread, cheese, and lunch meat. I will meet you at the checkout line."

"Okay." Spike nodded agreeably, and Xander pushed his cart off into the wilds of the supermarket.

Tara goggled at Spike. "Just like that?"

"Just like... oh, you mean, why didn't I give him a big argument?" Spike asked, scanning the shelves above Tara's head.

"Yeah. It seems kind of...well... un-Spike-like."

He bent down to grin in her face. "That's because you're missing the point. Xander trusted me -- on my own -- to do the shopping. Well, half the shopping."

She blinked, then smiled. "Awwww. That's so sweet. And you're all proud..."

Spike raised an eyebrow. "Well, yeah. Of course." Then he pushed the cart over to the opposite side of the aisle. "Now-- you grab as many bags of candy as you can reach, and I'll concentrate on the ones you can't get to. Let's see-- Goobers, Raisinettes..."

"Oreos?"

"Of course -- oh, we'll hit the cookie aisle next. Oi, don't forget the mints. Anya's favorite." It wouldn't be enough, of course, but Spike had nearly perfected the art of hiding behind Xander and saying 'but I'm evil! what d'you expect?' whenever Anya yelled at them for doing the grocery shopping.

Why she continued *sending* them to the store, Spike didn't know. He wasn't sure she did, either.

This time they managed to get home with two sacks of candy, some zucchini, two melons, and three pints of ice cream. As they unpacked, Willow and Tara ran into the living room and pretended they were only four, and hadn't had anything to do with the shopping.

Anya squinted at the black licorice laces, and placed them neatly aside on top of the stereo. That made Spike's eyes light up, since that was the place for 'Hmm.... I bet we can use this somehow' things. They got the appropriate oohs and ahhs for the chocolate, and the ice cream, as expected. It was only when she got to the bottom of the bags, and found that therewasn't anything *under* the sweets, that the Wrath of Anya (tm) was invoked.

"What am I supposed to cook with three medium-sized zucchini, two melons, and four pounds of chocolate?" she asked them, hands on hips.

Xander looked at the items she'd laid out on the counter, and frowned, slightly. "You don't consider those *large* zucchini?" He looked at Spike. "I thought they were large. Don't you think they're large?"

"Yeah, definitely."

Anya looked at them as if they were both crazy, which, well... But she dutifully studied the vegetables. "I've seen larger. Not that it really matters, if you're going to slice them up and put them in a casserole." She looked back at the two men. "Not that I can slice them up and put them in a casserole, since you didn't buy any of the other things that would have to go in the casserole to make it a casserole, instead of just a big pile of hot, mushy zucchini."

"Which won't matter, since Xander broke the casserole dish," Spike added, helpfully.

"Xander broke the casserole dish?" Anya folded her arms, and gave Xander a hurt, almost-angry look. Xander pointed at Spike. Again.

"Because I threw it at him! I mean, to him! I-- Oh, hell. Yes, Anya, I broke the casserole dish. I haven't bought a new one, since I spent two weeks being four and couldn't get to the store."

"But you broke it three weeks ago," Spike reminded him. Again, helpfully.

"Spike? Do you *ever* want to watch me spanking Anya, ever again?"

Two loud cries of "eeew!" came from the living room.

"Oh, like you two never do it," Spike shouted, on a hunch. There was sudden, suspicious silence from the other room.

Anya had picked up two of the zucchini, meanwhile. "I suppose I could boil them..."

Spike really had to admire the range of color that could play over Xander's face. He wasn't sure whether this was ecru, or eggshell- he'd have to go get the paint samples from the closet, to be sure.

"Honey, how about we order pizza. Then Spike and I will go out and get some real groceries, later tonight? Even a new casserole dish."

Anya looked dubious about the proposition. "I don't think so, somehow. How about we order pizza, and *I* go out later tonight and buy groceries. And *you* can put the girls to bed."

Xander looked relieved -- for nearly a split second. Then he looked towards the living room like it was full of Neru demons. They heard the two girls laugh.

Spike turned to Anya. "I was good -- can't I come to the store with you?"

"Ha!" Xander pointed an accusatory finger at him. "Who started this whole mess in the first place?"

Spike opened his mouth to deny having had anything to do with it, then he stopped. He *hadn't* started it, but, really - who had? "Er, whoever sent Rupes the statue in the first place?"

Anya narrowed her eyes, then shrugged and picked up the phone to order the pizza. While her back was turned, Spike and Xander quietly snuck into the living room. A few minutes later, she followed them. "Pizza's on its way. Now, about whose fault this is..."

Spike and Xander immediately pointed to each other, and the witches both pointed to Spike, the ungrateful little brats. Anya rolled her eyes.

"I mean, about who sent the statue in the first place. Giles hasn't found anything out from *his* sources. It wasn't on the original shipping manifest-- we found *that* buried under a pile of packing peanuts that somebody had apparently been using as an indoor playground."

Four innocent faces looked back at her. Well, mostly innocent. Willow and Tara were innocent, anyway. Of this particular offense.

"I tried to trace the shipment on the net, but there didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary. No weird stops in Zimbabwe or Katmandu," Willow piped up.

"Actually, that would have been normal," Spike put in, then realized his mistake in drawing their attentions to him just as his hand had been about to get ahold of Xander's zipper. Xander slapped his hand away as Willow glared.

"Don't make me make it disappear, Spike. I may not be four, but I *am* too young to be seeing things like you mauling Xander."

"Actually, it can be quite fun," Anya corrected her. "Especially when they pretend to be--"

"Okay! Back to the statue, shall we?" Xander interrupted. Spike saw the looks on the witches' faces, and resolved to tell them, someday when Xander wasn't around to dangle him out the window at noon, for doing so.

"There's not a lot *about* the statue," Willow said, still glancing at Spike's hands as if they might get up to something naughty, quite on their own. Which they might, if Willow would stop glancing at them. "It's old, it's tall, it's funky. It was last seen in Brussels in the seventeenth century, back when most of the books that describe what it does hadn't been translated yet."

"Oh, hey, that's what we forgot!" Spike exclaimed.

"What-- you figured something out about the Urdeku, that we missed?" Willow asked excitedly.

"No, we forgot to buy brussel sprouts. To go with the zucchini and the melons."

"We forgot to buy popcorn to throw at Spike, too," Tara said.

Xander shook his head. "No, we got carmel corn-- it's under the Oreos."

"Oh. Could we have some?"

"With *pizza*?"

"Sorry. Oreos with pizza." Willow ducked her head as if she'd been scolded.

Anya raised her hand, then waited until everyone was looking at her. When she still didn't speak, Xander asked cheerfully, "Yes, you in the front? Mrs. Harris?"

"You're paying for the pizza, right? Since I distinctly said you should buy real food, and now I have to go shopping with my own money since all you've bought is junk food? Good junk food, granted."

Xander turned and pointed at Willow. Willow protested, "I'm only four! How am I supposed to pay for pizza?"

"What, your money shrunk, when you did?" Spike asked, before he remembered he was trying not to annoy the powers-didn't-shrink witch.

"No, but..." Tara gave her a look, and Spike narrowed his eyes. The witch-telepathy thing *still* worked, even when they were four. Great. Willow smiled craftily. "There's the matter of two weeks worth of ice cream and french fries and pizzas and trips to the zoo, and the stuff you guys broke at the Magic Box that we *didn't* tell Giles about..."

"He was *there* for most of it," Spike protested. Xander sketched the shape of a Wachallaian funeral urn in the air, and Spike winced. Then wondered why he was wincing-- after all, *he* wouldn't have to pay for it. Unless Giles decided to take the payment out of his hide, of course.

Xander was pulling his wallet out of his pocket, though. "Fine. You win. But if the pizza boy asks for a tip, I'm telling him to swear off women for life."

"You swear off 'em. Leaves more for me." As Anya turned to look at him, Spike added quickly before it could turn into a glare that could kill, "More of *you* for me. Not 'more' as in more women. More *woman*. More chances to lick you off in the shower. More cuddles without birdbrain getting in between."

Anya was starting to grin, and Xander -- yup, whapped him in the head with the wallet. Spike turned back to Anya, because Anya grinning was more fun than being beaten by Xander -- at least as long as there were spectators who'd ruin the fun by yelling "eew" and "gross". He gave her a gallant smile. "So, I promise to be good, if you let me go to the store with you."

"Oh, please," Xander replied. "You're not gonna fall for that? Let him get out of helping me get the two monst-- adorable little girls to bed who aren't really four so *why* do I have to put them anywhere?"

"You just don't want us making out in the supermarket parking lot," Spike accused.

Xander didn't deny it. "Um, duh? The whole point of the 'only three places left we can shop, now' speech?"

Anya was glaring at both of them, now, instead of grinning. "What did you two do now?"

"Nothing!" they chorused.

Meanwhile Spike was wondering why it was bad for *them* to do things that got them barred from retail establishments, but if *Anya* was involved... He was, however, wise enough not to voice that thought. Besides, really, who banned you from grocery stores for snogging a girl? Almost nobody. It was only when he tried unzipping Xander's jeans that they got yelled at.

"The second display really wasn't their fault," Tara piped up.

"Yeah, and the thing with the deli counter would have probably happened anyway." Willow gave her girlfriend a thoughtful look.

"We never *touched* the deli counter," Xander said quickly.

"But you had good aim," Tara replied.

Spike saw which direction this was going -- and walked over to the front door. He glared at the pizza delivery boy on the doorstep. "One veggie, one kill-me-now meat special?"

The kid nodded, a bored look on his face, and held out his left hand for the cash. Spike shook it firmly, and grabbed the pizza boxes from him while he was still gawping. Spike sniffed. Some people had no concept of proper manners. He tightened his grip on the pizza boxes, and made a running jump over the back of the sofa, using his free hand to complete the vault.

Luckily for all concerned, Willow and Tara managed to catch the pizza boxes before they joined him on the floor, where he was rubbing his head and calling the coffee table all sorts of names.

Xander shook his head, walked over, and paid the delivery guy, who was looking at Spike with some concern. "Is he gonna be okay?"

"Define 'okay,' " Xander said dryly. "Hey, you want a tip?"

The kid nodded.

"Swear off men for life."

"Yeah, thanks," the kid stammered, then Spike heard his tone change. "I'll keep that in mind."

Spike was on his feet and back at the doorway, growling in full vampiric regalia. "Mine. Er, ours. Git!" The kid ran, and Spike found Xander laughing at him. "What?" he demanded.

"You look sooooo scary," Xander began, and Spike would have preened if he hadn't had a suspicion something was up. It was confirmed when Xander rubbed Spike's head, and added, "Especially with your hair sticking up!"

Spike gave him a 'grr', decided to ignore the insinuation that he cared about that sort of thing, and stomped back to grab a piece of pizza. Only to find two empty boxes, and three pairs of innocent-looking eyes blinking up at him.

There was no *way*... Well, yes, there *was* a way. Anya had been known to consume an entire cheesecake merely by *looking* at it. But still... No way the little witchlings could have eaten it all that fast.

Spike sniffed the air, then lowered his head. Following the trail...

"Oh cool! He's tracking the wily pizza!"

"You know how to catch a tame vampire? Stand very, very still, and make a noise like a pepperoni," Tara said.

Spike was following the scent into the kitchen, but he heard Willow ask doubtfully, "What kind of noise does a pepperoni make?"

He called back over his shoulder, "Depends what you're using it for." He stopped in his tracks for a second, and added, "And I'm *not* tame!"

"That's not true," Anya said. "I find that I rarely have to discipline him, any more." She sounded like she was talking to the two girls -- verified when they giggled and 'eewed'.

"I think the word you're looking for is 'domesticated'," Xander put in. "Where's the pizza-- ah. Cool!"

Spike stopped. How the hell had Xander found the pizza? He was still in the living room with the empty pizza boxes, and the witch-- The witches. He headed back to the living room and frowned as Xander took the last of three bites of a slice of pizza. The *only* visible slice of pizza.

Spike folded his arms. "Right, so, it's tease the vampire night, is it?" *Four* sets of innocent eyes blinked back at him. "Guess it's a good thing I don't need pizza, innit?" And he vamped out again, and dove for one of his two favorite snacks. Xander-neck.

"One of these days, I'm gonna get the pizza with the garlic crust," Xander mumbled. "Just to teach you a...mmm... lesson."

"I can think of better ways to teach me a lesson," Spike purred into his neck. The giggles were louder than the 'eewwws', this time.

*****