The giggles were nowhere to be found, a few hours later, as the final shots of 'Nightmare on Elm Street 3' faded into the credits. Spike, of course, was applauding loudly, but the teenywiccas seemed a bit subdued.

"Maybe it's just me, but Freddy's face seems a lot bigger, now that we're little," Willow said, as she dug around in the bowl of carmelcorn.

Spike glanced at the television. "Well, we do have a bigger telly than you two..."

"I'm kinda surprised we never got a Freddy Krueger here in Sunnydale," Xander said cheerfully, as he grabbed a handful of carmelcorn from the bowl he'd hidden from Willow. Spike, Willow, and Tara all glared at him. He paused in mid-carmelmunch. "What?"

"How long have you lived on the Hellmouth, buster?" Willow gave him a stern glare which was not appreciably diminished by coming from a four-year-old face.

"Um, this is a trick question, right?" Xander shot Spike a confused look, but Spike didn't feel like helping him out. Not since Xander hadn't told him where the pizza had been hidden. Not that Spike *minded* having to slurp a half-pint of blood from the happily wriggling man, but there was a principle of sorts.

"You've jinxed us," Tara said softly. "Now he'll show up."

"See? She's only been here a couple years, and already *she* knows you don't say things like that!" She leaned over and wrapped her arm protectively around Tara's neck.

"Oh, don't be silly," Xander said, though his expression fell somewhere between 'you're kidding, right?' and 'you do know a sleep-protection spell, right?' He leaned forward and pressed the rewind button on the VCR. Which had nothing to do with any vampires having broken any remote controls while trying to see if they could bounce the laserbeam off a mirror while standing on one hand. "We've had our full quota of dream things already, what with that kid with the nightmares, and the First Slayer. Oh, and der Kindestod, who wasn't really a dream thing, but everybody thought he was just in those kids' imaginations, so he kinda counts." Xander turned around to look at them, when Willow levitated a pillow at his backside. "What?"

Spike almost clapped when he saw the expressions they were giving Xander. Not as good at the puppy-eyes thing as Xander was, even as an adult -- but Spike suspected that had more to do with the fact he'd do anything Xander asked him to, anyway. Eventually. After a fashion. "Where are we gonna sleep?" Tara asked.

"On the couch, remember?" Xander answered in a patient tone. Sounded almost fatherly, in fact.

The eyes went wider, and Spike had to revise his opinion. "We have to sleep out here alone?" Willow asked.

Xander sighed. "Freddy Krueger is *not* coming to Sunnydale--"

The two girls burst into wails. "Now you've *really* done it! Xander Harris, you big meanie! I can't believe you'd say that!"

Xander looked helplessly at Spike, who was coming ever closer to applauding. Except... were those real tears, trickling down Tara's face? He leaned over and took a good look.

WHAP!

Spike blinked, and looked around for the hand that had whapped him on the back of the head, but there wasn't any. Instead, he found himself cuddling a four-year-old girl who was looking up at him with watery blue eyes, through a tangle of corn-colored hair. "Hey, now," he heard himself say in a soft voice, the sort he used to use with Dawn before she got old enough that it made her giggle more often than not. "Anybody comes sniffing round here, I'll tear 'em up good."

Tara looked doubtful.

"What, you don't think I could take that Krueger bloke?" Spike vamped out and gave her his best grrrr...

She giggled, but softly. Her eyes were still wide, and she glanced over at Willow. Then she looked at the window, as if checking for possible monsters. Willow, who was in Xander's arms, looked as wide-eyed and subdued as Tara. From the stunned look on Xander's face, Spike figured he wasn't the only one got whapped in the head by invisible paternal instincts.

"Look, Willow, you can do a spell to keep him out of the apartment, can't you?" Xander asked, patiently.

Willow nodded slowly, then said, "But that won't stop him from coming *near* the apartment. And what if he shows up *inside* the apartment? Since you're the one who jinxed us?"

"Will, Freddy Kruger is *not*--" He stopped because a hand was covering his mouth. Spike's.

"Look, why don't you just *stop* saying it, and let's get them settled someplace they'll feel safe?"

"Like where? Buffy's?"

Spike paused for a moment, then jerked his head in the direction of the only logical choice. Their bedroom. Their bedroom with the super-double-ultra-emperor-sized bed, specially designed for today's most hedonistic menages a trois. Or so the mail-order advert had claimed.

Xander shook his head wildly. "No. Nononononono... Bed. You. Me. Anya. First night back..."

Willow gave him a pointy stare. "Like you'd do anything in there, with us out here, anyway?"

Xander looked torn. "Uh... um... well... Maybe. I mean, if you'd asked me two weeks ago, no. But that long without a woman, a man can make a lot of changes in his life."

"If you'd rather have sex with Anya, and leave us out here," Tara began, and the torn sound of her voice *seemed* authentic.

Spike couldn't be sure. But there was Anya-and-Xander sex to be had, and these two *were* witches. Competent, powerful, even if only three feet tall. He opened his mouth, and heard himself saying, "Right, we'll all share the bed, and no boogymen will be able to get us. Sex can wait 'til morning." He blinked. Looked over at Xander, whose mouth was hanging open. "Xan? Have I been possessed?"

Xander shook his head slowly. "Um, I don't think you *can* be. It didn't work on Angel, anyway."

"Ah. Hmm. Are *you* possessed, then?" Because Xander was standing up, teenywillow happily wrapped in his arms, and walking in the direction of the bedroom.

Xander stopped, as if he'd only now realized what he was doing. He cocked his head. "I don't *think* so. I mean, I've been possessed a few times, and this doesn't *feel* like that. But if I start laughing hysterically and running around on all fours, you should probably chain me up until Giles can get over here."

Spike blinked away an image of Xander, on all fours, in chains. It was *not* a good thing to be thinking about with a not-really-four-year-old in your arms. Willow giggled, and pointed at Spike. He looked down reflexively, but no, he'd managed to blink it away in time.

When he looked back up at Willow, she was still giggling. "Spike's thinking he'd wait at least a day to call Giles."

"Was not," Spike muttered.

"Was," Tara retorted. Spike glared at her -- for a second. Hadn't she been the timid one, once?

"Spike? Why don't we put the wee ones to bed?" Xander interrupted his glaring.

"Right." Spike nodded, and led the way to the bedroom. He plopped Tara down, and stepped aside as Xander plopped his own giggling burden beside her. They bounced for a moment, then looked up again. Puppy eyes. Spike tried to growl back.

"Is that it? We get spooked by Freddy Krueger coming to get us, and you don't even tuck us in?" Willow demanded.

"I *knew* they were faking. Come on." Spike grabbed Xander's arm, tugging him towards the living room.

"Um-- if they're faking, why are we leaving them in our bed?"

"So's we can shag on the couch!"

Xander gave a questioning look at the girls, but Spike could feel his resistance dwindling. He gave in inward cheer. Not an outward one-- that would be bragging. Wait-- Spike *loved* to brag! He gave an outward cheer.

Which was Willow's cue to put her arms around Tara, then look up at both of them. "Okay," she said bravely. "We'll be fine, I guess. Right, baby?" Tara murmured something even Spike couldn't hear, and Willow planted a kiss on her forehead. "Nope. Won't let anything getcha."

Spike sighed, and closed the bedroom door. With all four of them on the inside.

He wasn't sure how much later it was when he opened one eye and saw Anya standing by the bed. She was looking down, a sort of odd happy smile on her face. Spike raised his head -- feeling the pillowcase unstick itself from his cheek -- and looked at what she was looking at.

Willow and Tara were curled up around each other, bookended by him and Xander. Apparently they'd all fallen asleep in the same position they'd been telling stories in. Stories designed to amuse and distract the are-they-aren't-they-scared girls. Spike blinked and looked up at Anya again. Blinked again when she mouthed 'I'll be right back' and left the room.

He considered crawling off the bed and following her, but Tara's head was on his arm, and if he moved he might wake her. Not that he cared about that sort of thing, he reasoned. But...well, he didn't *have* to get up. He could hear Anya heading for the bathroom, then he heard her undressing. Spike looked down at the sweet face resting on his arm.

Urg.

He sighed, and waited, listening to the little sounds of running water. A clock ticking out in the living room. The sparse three a.m. traffic outside. Finally Anya re-appeared, dressed in plaid flannel pajamas. *Xander's* plaid flannel pajamas. The top part, anyway, which came down to her knees.

"If you're trying to look not-sexy, it's not working," he whispered very quietly as she slid into his side of the bed.

She smiled, then frowned, then blinked and whispered, "Oops-- forgot something!"

As she slid back out of bed and left the room again, Spike spent a moment enjoying the receding view before wondering what she could have forgot. Surely nothing that they'd *usually* bring to bed, not with the witches there.

He was waiting, eyes open in the dark, when she reappeared in the doorway. She was making some sort of hand motions, pointing at his head, then at the pillow. She wanted him to do *what* with the pillow? Finally she put one hand on her hip, and mouthed, very slowly, "Put your head down and close your eyes, stupid."

Just to be sure, he glanced over at Xander, who was fast asleep. Well, she didn't see all that well in the dark, Spike decided. She must have mistaken him for Stupid. He complied anyway, rolling his eyes, then closing them, and resting his head back on the pillow. The room flashed red outside his eyelids as he heard the click-whirr of the camera. *Then* Anya slipped back into bed.

He thought about growling at her -- quietly -- but decided it wasn't worth the effort. Not since he'd have plenty of chances to growl at folks snapping pictures of him with one or more of the kiddies. And the only way he'd be able to swap for photos of his Sire being beset by Wesley, was to have a few of his own.

That thought amused him for the two seconds it took to fall back asleep, the comfortable weight of a small head on his arm, and the slow, gentle breathing of his human lovers filling his ears.

*****

"I don't *want* to go." Rupert glared up at her, but he could see he wasn't getting through. Not yet -- he knew he could wear her down, though. The benefit of being four was boundless energy. Which, when devoted towards annoying his Slayer, was a precious benefit indeed.

She frowned back at him. "You know you haven't regressed, yet. You can't throw a tantrum."

Rupert suppressed a sigh. "I am *not* throwing a tantrum. I am merely expressing a desire for the fifth time today which you obviously aren't listening to, hence my need to speak louder so you *will* hear me."

"I can hear you!" Buffy protested. "I'm just saying--"

"You're saying that if I don't go into the shop, terrible tragedies will occur. I promise you, Buffy, I shan't destroy your home during the three hours it takes you to go to class."

"For one thing, it's Wednesday, so I have to go to Willow and Tara's classes too, and take notes. For another... I just don't *like* leaving you home alone. I thought they did this routine already, the last time, and we all agreed that none of us kids were safe on our own?"

"Yes, but that was before we were used to being in four-year-old bodies. I'm perfectly capable of climbing up and down stairs, I know what I can and can't lift, or move, or reach. In short, I know what I'm doing, Buffy."

He gave her his best 'I'm your Watcher, and I'm just being reasonable, not trying to lay down the law' look. The one that sometimes actually worked. She almost appeared to be wilting under pressure. Rupert stared suspiciously at the uncertain blue eyes. Buffy *never* wilted under pressure.

'What's wrong with you?' he felt like shouting. 'I taught you better than this! You're strong, you're intelligent, you're the woman they invented strong-enough-for-a-man-but-made-for-a-woman for. Don't fall for a pair of big blue-green eyes and a fetching pout!' Rupert blinked, and thumped his metaphorical Watcher-self on the side of the head. Shut up, or she might hear you.

Finally, Buffy seemed to have made up her mind. "Um... in short?" she repeated, then giggled unceasingly.

Right, this called for some serious pouting. He looked down at the floor, so she wouldn't see it coming, wouldn't think he was probably doing it deliberately. He counted to five, slowly, waiting for her giggles to quiet.

Then he glanced up, face still tilted down, and found her watching him, still grinning. "Sorry, Giles, but you *did* say it."

"You're going to leave me at Spike and Xander's mercies, aren't you?"

"Oh, come on," she said breezily, though there was a hint of something in her eyes. Worry? Sympathy? Didn't matter, he'd got her hooked. "They'll be...um...." She tilted her head. "Huh."

"I just want to stay here, alone, while I still can. Soon I *shall* be regressed enough to warrent being minded. But not yet." His voice was calm, not quite any hint of pleading in it.

"Giles, you know I--" Rupert pouted at her. "Stop it," she said sternly. He pouted harder. "I am *not* falling for that."

"You don't love me," he said quietly.

Buffy blinked at him. Repeatedly. He saw her face about to slide into that 'aww, no, don't be like that' expression, and could hear Spike and Xander shouting 'Score!' in the back of his head. God knew he'd heard it aloud enough times, when they'd managed to convince him to let them do something dangerous with something valuable, by dint of their... er...

It occurred to Rupert that he'd actually heard Spike use the 'You don't love me' line, as well. To Rupert? It couldn't have been. It must have been Xander who had fallen for it. Or possibly Dawn. Never Rupert. Nor Buffy, he recalled a moment too late, as her face set into another expression entirely.

"Nice try, Mister. But as a matter of fact, I *do* love you. Which is why I'm not leaving you alone in the house to explain to the firemen why your babysitter let a four-year-old stay by himself while she toddled off to class."

He pouted a bit more, but when that didn't change the expression on her face, he finally asked, "Which firemen?"

"The same cute ones who came last week to get Spike down from the roof. The ones with the bulging muscles. And I'd miss seeing them and it would be all your fault, so you're going to the shop." She picked up her bookbag, and the bag that contained his books, and the *new* pirate cove Lego set he'd found sitting next to his pillow this morning. "We're going," she said with a disheartening tone of finality. Then she yelled, "Dawn! Get your butt down here, we're leaving!"

There was a second's pause, before they heard Dawn shouting back, "I'm coming! Geez, keep your shirt on!"

Rupert crossed his arms, and glared up at Buffy.

"I will pick you up and *carry* you to the Magic Box," she informed him. "Don't think I won't."

It was on the tip of his tongue to say 'you wouldn't dare' except he knew that saying it would guarantee that she would. That didn't mean he was quite ready to give up. "Buffy, please, this is the only chance I'll have -- have had in two weeks - to be *alone*. I assure you I'll take every precaution. I swear I'll sit and read, all day."

"Yeah, you'd do it, too," she said, sounding reasonable. But she shook her head. "You're coming with us."

"I could stay home with him," Dawn offered. "I'll stay in my room and won't bother you a bit," she said to Rupert.

"And that trigonometry test you were studying for all night?" Buffy asked. "That would what-- be cancelled for the whole class on account of Dawn Summers has to babysit?"

Dawn shrugged. "It could be. You never know. Stranger things have happened..."

"Yeah, like you having a math test without whining about it. I don't know why you bother trying to avoid them-- you come home with A's every time." Buffy rolled her eyes. "Out-- go. In the car. Now."

"Ja, wohl, mein Kommandant! Sig heil..." Dawn saluted, grabbed her bag, and walked out the door. Buffy frowned at Rupert.

"That was German, right? I haven't forgotten more French than I thought. Right? Giles?" He smiled kindly at her. "Are you teaching her to speak Sumarian?" Buffy narrowed her eyes at him. "Because I warned you about that when she was ten."

"What if I promise to *stop* teaching her German, in exchange for you letting me stay here today?"

Buffy seemed to consider it -- for half a second. "I'd say you aren't the one teaching her German. Now, let's go before we're late!"

Rupert pouted at her, one more time. Then he was flying into the air and being held, quite firmly, under Buffy's arm. She switched off the lights as she headed for the door.

"Buffy, put me down this instant!"

"Nope. Don't make me enroll you in kindergarten." She plopped him down in the back seat of the Range Rover, the door having been helpfully opened by Dawn, who had apparently switched sides. "I'll do it, too. The neighbors have already asked about it. I told them you were too young -- but I can change my mind."

"You're a very cruel mummy, you know that, right?" he asked, in a normal, adult tone, if not an adult pitch. Since he'd lost the war, he wasn't about to keep the battle going. Not until he could find something else to torment her with, at any rate.

"That's me, the evil bitch-monster of death," she agreed as Dawn pulled the vehicle out of the drive and onto the street.

"Nice to hear you finally admit it," said her sister. "It's the first step towards getting help, you know. The next step is where we commit you. Just for evaluation."

"You know Giles, if I did enroll you in kindergarten, it wouldn't be so bad. You and Dawn could play together."

"I don't think so, somehow. I believe there's some sort of social stigma attached to playing with the girls. Er... " Rupert scratched his head, trying to come up with the proper word. "Cooties?"

Cooties," Buffy confirmed. "The bane of childhood. Once you're marked--"

"You grow up to be Buffy," Dawn finished.

Buffy waited until Dawn paused at a stop sign to give her sister a pinch. Rupert wondered just who among them was the four year old, as Dawn squealed and hit her back. "Oh, yes, I can see why you wouldn't want immature little me to stay home alone while you two mature persons attend to your schooling."

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

Rupert blinked at her, while Dawn began laughing. He had to stifle a laugh, himself. "How can you, since I'm driving?" Dawn asked.

"Well, it always worked for mom," Buffy replied.

"Oh, yeah, and 'Your face will freeze like that...' " Dawn said, still laughing.

Yeah..." Buffy smiled softly, then burst into a grin. "And 'you'd better eat that-- there's starving children in Africa...' "

"We kept *telling* her the starving African kids could *have* our lima beans," Dawn told Rupert.

"She even put hers in an envelope and addressed it to the United Nations, one time," Buffy said sincerely.

"Hey, it worked-- I didn't have to eat the ones in the envelope, since they got all squished."

Rupert sat quietly in the back seat as the two of them reminisced about the sort of things they'd gotten away with in their --snort-- long ago childhoods. He didn't let out a peep. It wouldn't do, after all, for them to realize he was taking notes. Not that he hadn't been told to eat his own sausages, as a child, because there were starving children in Poland. But he'd never actually tried to post his breakfast to them.

*****
Part 8:

Finally -- or 'all too soon' -- they pulled up in front of the Magic Box. Buffy began giving Dawn her usual morning 'go directly to school, do not hit any trucks, be right back here *right* after school' speech. Rupert unbuckled his seltbelt and opened the door, and jumped out.

Discovering that yes, he was as short as he felt. The ground was a bit farther away than he was used to -- but since no one saw him stumble, it didn't count. He headed for the front door to his shop, thinking that he might simply lock himself in his office. Alone.

As he reached the front door, Buffy caught up with him and grabbed the doorknob. "So, short stuff, you looking forward to a day of fun?" she asked, maliciously.

He looked her square in the eye. "You mean, am I looking forward to spending the day with Spike and Xander, asking them for ideas on how to use my youthful energy to its most effective...yes, I should say I am. Aren't you going to walk to class, now?" he added, as he stepped through the open front door, past her.

"Xander--" she shouted as the door shut behind him, leaving her out on the street. "Don't give him any ideas..."

"What'd she say?" Xander asked, looking up from the countertop, where he was -- dear God, really? -- reading something that wasn't a comic book.

"I've no idea. Something about you buying me breakfast, because she didn't have time to feed me, I think," Rupert lied smoothly.

Buffy was already stalking in the direction of campus, likely to have just enough time to get to her first class, so he didn't expect her to come running back to correct him. He did, however, get a knowing look from Spike. He wasn't worried-- the expression was also admiring, and possibly even proud.

Xander was closing his book. "Right, I can go next door and get some muffins, and coffee. Er -- you want juice?" Xander asked him, and Rupert was forced to give him a stern look.

"Tea shall suffice, thank you."

Xander nodded, and looked around the room. "Anyone else want anything?" Rupert almost told him he didn't really need a second breakfast -- but the shop next door made really excellent apple strudel muffins.

"Chocolate chip cookies!" Willow cried out, from the stairs. Rupert saw her sitting with Tara, both of them looking at a book set across their knees.

"I'm not feeding you two any more sugar," Xander told her. When Willow pouted, Xander said, "Spike?"

Who looked uncomfortable. "Er, Xan's right," he began, but he was obviously falling prey to The Willow Face. Rupert, however, was simply astounded. Any other day Spike and Xander would have already been out the door, counting the money Anya handed over, to buy a dozen cookies and muffins. Now he was watching Xander look almost...stern.

Of course, any other day, Rupert himself would have been looking sternly at Anya -- in vain -- for taking the money out of the cash register. But that was neither here nor there. It was *Xander's* strange behavior that was worrying him. Not only did he look at the Willow pout, and, after a moment where it seemed he might cave, shake his head resolutely, but he actually shook a finger at Willow and Tara. And not his middle one, either.

"You know if you keep making that face, it'll freeze that way." When everyone in the shop began laughing, Xander turned around. "What? What did I... Oh my God. I didn't."

Spike nodded, grinning. "Yup. Complete with finger-shake."

Xander buried his face in his hands. "Help me, Mr. Wizard. I don't want to be a grown-up anymore..."

Anya walked up to him, and patted his shoulder. "Here's money. Go buy chocolate -- you'll feel better." Xander nodded, and took the money -- Rupert sent Anya a belated stern glare, but she didn't pay him any attention. Rupert *did*, however, see the thoughtful expression on Anya's face as she watched Xander leave the shop.

Oh, dear.

Not that having children -- real ones -- around wasn't nice, in theory. But Anya and Xander? *Anya* and *Xander*? These were the genes the world wanted to pass on?

He turned his attention quickly to something else, and discovered Buffy had kept his bag. "Where the bloody hell is my..copy of Druher's Halcyon?" He managed to not say 'pirate cove', out loud.

"Watch your--" Rupert looked up at Spike, in disbelief. Spike looked shocked, himself, and turned to Anya. "Somebody stake me?"

"Right now? Xander's not here. I suppose I have something in my bag that we could use, if you wanna go in the back room and--"

Spike shook his head. "Not what I meant. But keep it in mind for later, love."

"Spike, are you quite all right?" Rupert blinked, disbelieving again at the sound of his own voice, asking. Almost as if he cared.

"He's turning into a dad-- it's eerie," Willow said from the steps. "This morning, he made me finish my eggs and toast before he let me have a donut."

"Did not!" Spike protested. When Anya turned to look at him, he shrugged awkwardly. "Well, it was her *second* donut."

Rupert just watched, as Tara scooted out from under the book, walked up to Spike, and took his hand. Looked up at him with a hopeful expression. "Would you get the Demon's Necromicon down from the top shelf for me?"

"Course, luv," Spike said, leaning down and scooping her into his arms. He was halfway to the bookcase, when he stopped and glared at Anya and Rupert. Rupert hid his smile quickly. Anya was looking thoughtful again. With a shudder, Rupert crossed quickly to his office. He had books in there he could read, and he'd just have to remember his Legos tomorrow.

Once safely behind his door, he tried to put out of his mind all the disturbing images he'd been subjected to. Studying up on the Urdeku should distract him, for a hour or so. He began looking around for the books he'd left on the desk, and discovered one was missing. Frowning, he tried to recall where he'd seen it last. It was an English translation of a book, so it was reasonable to think one of the others had borrowed it. It wasn't the one Willow and Tara had been reading, however.

No, he realized, it was the one *Xander* had been reading. He went back out and found it sitting upon the counter, and had to ask Anya to fetch it down for him. "Xander was actually reading this?" he asked. "Voluntarily?"

She nodded. "Yes. He asked me to find him something that he could read that wouldn't put him to sleep, and since I left all the erotic literature at home today..." She smiled. "Actually, Xander wanted to do something to help trace down the Urdeku, so Willow and I looked around for an English translation to any of the books you and Wesley were using. I thought maybe he'd pick up something that you people missed-- just because he doesn't speak Sumerian, doesn't mean he isn't a good thinker."

Rupert nodded, and took the book from her. He'd never thought Xander *wasn't* a 'good thinker' -- it simply surprised him to find Xander using his thinking skills on what was, at best, a fairly dry reference work. With no colour illustrations. He caught himself smiling, and quickly stifled it, lest anyone actually see him and assume he was feeling...proud, or something.

"Saw that," Spike whispered in his ear.

"Nothing to see," he said smoothly. Lying to Spike was simple enough to be ridiculous. He slipped the book under his arm...and promptly dropped it. Right -- large book, small body. Rupert sighed and started to crouch down to pick it up. Then stood up. Crouched down again, stood up again, then lifted his left leg and bent it a few times.

"Er, problem?" Spike asked.

"No, no problem at all. I never even *noticed* the first time. My god...."

He looked up to find Spike smirking at him. "Knee works again, does it?"

Rupert glared. "It *always* worked." Then he allowed, "But perhaps a bit...better, now."

Anything either might have said was cut off by a squeal from the back of the shop. Rupert looked over, but Spike was running. Rupert smirked. He followed Spike, albeit at the much slower pace that his short but fully-functional legs allowed him. When he got there, he found Spike scooping a sprawled-out Willow off the floor, and babbling inanely.

"You all right... course you're all right, no blood. Er, no blood, but you could have a concussion. Damn, Rupes, you're always getting bonked on the head, what's a concussion feel like? Hell, if she's got a concussion, should I have picked her up?" Spike was running one hand through Willow's mop of copper hair -- so at one point that colour had been natural, Rupert thought absently -- and paying absolutely no attention to the perturbed looks that Willow and Tara were giving him.

Finally Willow said, "Spike, what are you doing?"

"Checking for bumps."

"I'm not a vampire, and even if I were, they'd be on my forehead, not the top of my skull."

"What?" Spike paused in his search of her skull. "What are you babbling about?"

"What am *I* babbling about?" Willow demanded. "Spike, let go of me - I didn't get my bracelet!"

"Your what?"

Rupert sighed -- again, thinking maybe he would look forward to regressing this time, so he wouldn't feel quite so...old. Which was amusing, because it was *Spike* that was making him feel old, right now. Then he got down on the floor and looked under the bookcase. Yes, there it was, lying in the dust. He reached under and grabbed it, and pulled it out. Willow squealed again -- exact same squeal, and surely Spike could tell the difference, now?

Rupert handed the bracelet over, and Willow took it. She began to put it on, then grinned. "Oops, gonna be too big. Do you have pockets?" she asked Tara, as her own shorts did not. Tara looked down, and shook her head.

"Does any the stuff you bought have pockets?" Tara asked, sounding doubtful. It made Rupert take a second look.

"Tara, aren't those the clothes Willow bought for herself?"

Tara coloured, slightly. "Well, yeah. Um... The clothes we bought for me are kind of all too big." Even the shirt of Willow's that she was wearing was a bit loose, Rupert noticed.

Willow giggled. "She kept saying 'No, we have to get the bigger ones-- I was a fat little kid...' We even ended up getting different sizes, because she wasn't sure which ones would be big enough. And they're all too big!" She started laughing again, and Tara stuck her tongue out.

"Well, I remember my brother calling me a big pig all the time..."

"He was a boy. Boys are dorks. Duh..." Willow pointed a finger at Spike's nose, then actually tapped it, since he was still holding her. "Case in point..."

Spike made huffing noises, and put her down. "Well, how was I to know? You're all quiet back here, then I hear screaming-- you could've fallen off that stool and broken your head."

Willow was giving him an amused look -- which Rupert was able to interpret all too well. He almost felt sorry for Spike, except that he remembered everything he and Xander had done over the last two weeks. Not to mention the century of evil. It would do him some good, Rupert thought, to be wrapped around the pinkies of a pair of four-year-old little girls.

Spike was still protesting, in response to the look that Willow was continuing to give him. "You *might've*! You could have been dead and then Xander and Anya wouldn't let me anywhere near you."

Rupert laughed. Then he went over and sat down at the table, to watch. This was proving to be more entertaining than staying at Buffy and Dawn's house to watch Passions.

"What wouldn't I have done?" Anya said from the doorway between the front and back sections of the shop.

"Let me near the--- and where were you, I might ask, when this one was making noises like her head had got smooshed?"

Anya blinked at him. "She was obviously happy, not bleeding. Couldn't you tell that? And people say *I* have no understanding of children, just because I haven't been one for eleven hundred and twenty three years. You were a kid last *week* and you don't know the difference between a happy scream and a head-smooshed scream?"

Spike looked suitably mortified at his own behaviour, which made Rupert chuckle. Only it came out a giggle. The vampire glanced around the room, obviously looking for a easy escape route, and at last responded with, "And the other one's got no clothes!"

Anya frowned, and looked at Tara. "Spike, she obviously has clothes. She's wearing clothes right now." She sounded remarkably patient -- Rupert reminded himself that she had been living with Spike for.. how long, now? And none of them had driven the others insane, yet. Truly, amazingly remarkable.

"Not those! Those're Red's. She hasn't any clothes of her own, that fit. And will *someone* please stake me before I say she'll catch her death of cold if she's not properly dressed?"

Rupert reached over to pick up a pencil. "I shall. Hold still, please?" He held up the pencil as if to throw it.

"Put that down before you put his eye out." Rupert looked up at Anya, shocked. She didn't even look fazed. But then, she was used to scolding Spike and Xander all the time.

"Muffins for all!" Xander called out.

Before anyone small and fast could get over to relieve him of his burden, Spike was at his side. "Let's go drive real fast and drink beer and tear the heads off parking meters."

Xander looked at him for a moment, then nodded, slowly. "Ah...o-kaaayyyy.... I'm driving, of course, since you'll have turned into dust, considering that it's ten a.m., and who put the LSD in his breakfast cereal *this* morning?"

"He's disturbed because he's been acting all parental, and he doesn't understand why," Willow snickered, coming up to take a bag of muffins from Xander's hand.

"You realize you could've just stopped before the 'because' and I would have accepted the explanation," Xander said. "Although...truthfully, I *have* been noticing an alarming tendency to remind people to brush their teeth, this week. You suppose it's a side-effect of the spell? All the adults around the shrunk-kids suddenly start acting like grown-ups?"

Spike looked relieved. 'Yeah, good thought. That makes sense. Whew."

Rupert opened his mouth to point out that Buffy hadn't been saying those things -- when he realized that she had been. But admitting so would reassure Spike and Xander.... "Buffy hasn't been acting like that, at all." Spike and Xander looked over at him, expressions of horror warring with stubborn disbelief on their faces. "Not to mention there is absolutely no evidence of any lingering effects of the spell, in any of the literature. Some of which you yourself read," he reminded Xander. "And may I add, it's nice to see you showing an interest in real research."

He had to struggle to keep from laughing -- though from the sound of it, Tara and Willow weren't doing more than pressing their hands over their mouths. He tried to think of one more thing to say, to push them completely over the edge.

Then Anya said it for him. "I think it's good that they're learning to be parents." Then she smiled. Widely.

Spike and Xander screamed.

"I take it back, let's go rip the heads off parking meters. Um, and put stink-bombs in people's mailboxes. And... uh... leer at women on the street," Xander babbled.

"Spike does that one now," Willow pointed out.

"So does Xander; he's just more subtle about it," Anya said. "But that doesn't make them immature, it just makes them men." She paused. "There was something wrong with that statement, wasn't there?"

"You know, Willy's is open," Spike said, glaring at everyone in the room, but talking to Xander. "If you run out and open the car doors, I'll throw m'coat over my head, and..."

"Way ahead of you," Xander replied, heading for the door.

"Hold it right there, busters," Anya said. Both men froze, then they exchanged a look. Rupert accepted a bottle of orange juice from Willow, who was crawling into the chair beside him. Tara was opposite him, already kneeling in the seat, eating a muffin -- all of them watching the Spike and Xander show with avid interest. Rupert took a cookie out of the bag, trying not to rustle the paper as he did so. Spike and Xander were giving Anya identical cute looks.

"You're staying here to help me run the store, and do research, and keep an eye on them." She pointed towards the table, and the three not-kids looked at each other as if asking who Anya meant. None of them said anything aloud, though, in order not to miss the next line.

"But--"

"No."

"But--"

"No."

"But--"

Anya pointed again. Xander looked at Spike. Spike looked at Xander. Identical expressions of despair in their eyes. Finally Spike said, "Can't really stand Willy's these days, anyhow. The line dancing was bad enough, but when he put the country kareoke machine in..." He shuddered, somewhat convincingly, and moved to snatch the bag away from Rupert, to remove a cookie. Xander hesitated, then nodded.

"I guess... It's a little early in the morning for the whole Tears in My Beer scene. Go over much better if we went out tonight."

"Oh no, you don't," Anya said firmly. "Tonight we're going to the drive-in, remember?" Xander looked elsewhere. "Xander?"

He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'yes, dear' -- but Rupert couldn't be entirely sure, as Xander was shoving a muffin in his mouth as he said it.

Willow waited at least ten seconds to make the whip-cracking noise. Rupert wouldn't have been so kind, except he had a cookie in his own mouth, so she beat him to it.

Xander gave her a dirty glare, then he grinned. "Actually, when she uses the whip it's a lot more fun." Willow turned red.

Spike was snickering as he stole a cookie from the bag...which he then carried over to Anya and presented it to her, as if he'd tracked the thing down and killed it, himself.

Anya took it, but said, "If you think presents of chocolate are going to get you out of trouble...." Rupert couldn't see the expression on Spike's face, and suspected he didn't want to. Anya grinned. "Well, it wasn't *much* trouble. For you two. And the cookies are good." She took a bite, and nodded. "All right."

"What about me? I bought them!" Xander put in.

"Yes, and where did you get the money?" Rupert interrupted.

"Um. From Anya," Xander said brightly, then immediately realized he'd just put the blame on the person he was trying to placate. He picked up a chocolate chocolate-chip muffin and held it out to Anya.

"Hey, I didn't know those were in there!" Willow grabbed the bag, and began digging through it.

"I thought we were trying *not* to give them any more sugar?" Anya said, though she didn't exactly rush over to the table to stop them from eating the goodies, Rupert noted.

Xander shrugged sheepishly. "Well, I thought deeply about that. And I thought about the lengths Buffy and I went to, in our quest for chocolate, and..." he did the boyish grin thing again, and damned if Anya didn't seem to be falling for it. Shame on her. "You know, just to keep them all out of trouble, I thought I'd head off any escape attempts."

Anya smiled, then her eyes narrowed. "Yes. That. You still haven't been punished for that little stunt, have you."

Xander shook his head, eagerly. Rupert felt the sudden need to bang his head against the tabletop.

"Hey, I was the lookout man-- I deserve to be punished too!" Spike protested.

"You ratted us out to the authorities!" Xander told him.

"Yeah, so? I'm evil! How does that make me any less deserving of punishment?"

"It means you couldn't help getting into trouble, and being punished won't teach you anything!" Xander countered. "Me, I'm an impressionable human mortal, and should be taught the error of my ways."

He looked hopefully at Anya. Rupert dropped the last bit of his cookie. "Suddenly, I've lost my appetite."

"Actually, from a socio-psychological view-point, it's really quite fascinating," Tara said, still munching her first cookie. Rupert wondered if Xander had bought anything even remotely non-sugar laden, at all. "At first, they appear to be just as...well, chaotic and immature as they appear. But when you realize the group dynamics of their threesome...." She trailed off, looking from Willow to Rupert. "What?"

"Give her another cookie," Rupert said, handing the bag to Willow. Willow took the bag, peered inside, and pulled out a huge peanut butter cookie. She handed it to Tara.

"Oo, peanut butter!" Tara sounded like a four-year old.

"Is there another?" Rupert asked.

Willow looked deep into the bag. Frowned. Rattled the paper inside. Looked again. "Hmm. I don't *see* any..."

Rupert gave her a look, which she blithely ignored. She was going to make him do it, wasn't she. Of all the... Fine. Rupert opened his mouth. "Anya, Willow won't share..."

Willow giggled obnoxiously and tossed the bag at him. "I knew I could make him whine."

"Am *I* being punished for something terrible that *I* did in a past life? Because I don't recall ever having done anything to *you*," Rupert remarked as he reached into the bag and pulled out his own peanut butter cookie.

"Um, like the cookie raid in the middle of the night at Buffy's place? Like waking us up at three a.m. because you'd snuck downstairs to watch 'Mr. Bean' on cable? Or what about..."

"I was regressed then. Those things don't count."

"Well, I'm regressed now," she said matter-of-factly.

"You are not," he countered.

"Am too."

"Are not."

"Am too."

"You are not." She opened her mouth to say 'am, too' again, and Rupert rolled his eyes. "For God's sake, we are *not* regressed. Last time it took nearly four days before showing any real signs of regression. Which not only means that you are *not* emotionally a four-year-old, but you have no excuse for having just stolen my peanut butter cookie, Tara."

Tara looked innocent.

"Give it back," he demanded, trying to sound as adult as he could -- but the content of his demand rather precluded much maturity.

"I don't have it."

"Yes, you *do*," he responded, feeling rather idiotic. But on the other hand...letting her get away with it meant having to pout at Spike to get another one purchased for him.

"I..." Tara quivered her chin. "How could you think I'd do something like that? When have I ever done anything remotely dishonest?"

Rupert was about to bring up a certain 'no-see-um-demons' spell from a few years back, which really *was* the only thing he could think of, when Willow got into the act. "Really, Giles, how could you accuse Tara? That's just... mean. Plain old mean. Rotten. Spike, Giles is being mean to us."

Spike broke away from the threesome's continued mumblings about who deserved to be punished more, and stepped over to the table. "What was that, love?"

Tara looked up at him, chin still quivering, and Rupert groaned. "Giles says I stole his cookie!" Her face was the picture of aggrieved innocence.

Spike scowled at Rupert, who didn't bother resisting the urge to stick his tongue out at Tara, since it was obvious he wasn't going to win this one. "It's not nice to pick on little girls, Rupert," Spike said, just as if he hadn't eaten more of them than he could count, in his day.

"Oh, yes, because they're perfect little angels," Rupert said. "So ask Angel Number One why she has an uneaten peanut butter cookie in her hands."

"Because Willow gave it to me!" she said. Angelically.

"You ate that one," Rupert pointed out, though he was beginning to think he might as well go to his office and read. With Anya no longer twisting Spike and Xander around her little finger, there was little entertainment to be had. No more peanut butter cookies to be had, either.

Tara quivered her chin some more, and looked up at Spike. Who said seriously, "Rupert, perhaps you should go stand in the corner."

Rupert gaped at him for a second, then turned to Willow. "Have we got a video camera? Set up?"

"There's the security cameras," she said, nodding. "They must have got a shot of that."

"Excellent. Let's be sure to send copies to Angel. I did promise." She nodded eagerly. Spike, on the other hand, was giving them an outraged look. Which they ignored. Rupert held his hand out. "May I?"

Tara grinned, and returned his cookie. With a bite missing.

*****
Part 9:

"Not yet."

Gunn looked down at him with that same concerned expression he'd been wearing for the last few days. That 'how long is it going to take him to regress, so I can get him to do embarrassing things on film' expression. Of course, the 'not yet' wasn't directly in response to that expression, but to 'Do you wanna go out and hit the playground, today?' Still, it was the same answer, to essentially the same question, voiced or unvoiced.

"Ya know, you don't actually have to be regressed, to hang out on the swingset or the jungle gym. The others had fun doing it, even when they were still grown-up in the head. Got pics, and everything."

"Spike and Xander--"

"Yeah, yeah, act like kids all the time. But Buffy and Giles don't, and they got into it."

"I am neither Buffy, nor Rupert. I--" He stopped himself from saying that he didn't *want* to do this. Because, true as it might be, he knew...it really wasn't *entirely* true. He'd have been happy to avoid the experience all-together. But there had been a few nice things.

Being held, for one. Suddenly being able to demand and receive as much physical affection as he'd always been taught was improper and unnecessary for boys. For men, for Englishmen who were meant to grow up to be Watchers. Now, just because he was small, he only had to raise one hand and someone -- well, Cordelia or Gunn -- was hugging him. It made him nervous; but it felt nice.

"I simply don't wish to make a fool of myself," he finally said.

"Man, ain't no one gonna know you're a old guy in a four-year-old body."

Wesley snapped his mouth shut, and glared as hard as he could. "I am not old."

"You're *way* old," Gunn replied. "You're like, over *thirty*."

Wesley had to resist the urge to respond in any number of ways which would only prove Gunn's belief that he ought to be acting like a four-year old. He didn't find it any easier than he did every other time Gunn started calling him his 'old man'. Normally he proved his youth by proving his...vitality. That wasn't going to work, this time.

"That's not old," he finally responded. "That's mature. The magical point beyond which it's no longer necessary to drink milk from the carton and put it back in the refrigerator, in order to prove one's manhood."

"Hey, I don't do that to prove my manhood-- I've got other ways of doing that. I do it 'cause it beats washing another glass."

"How exactly does this not prove my point?"

"That you're not too old to go to the park and sit in the sun and play on the swings?"

Wesley frowned at him. "That was *not* my point." Although he was having difficulty remembering what his point *had* been. Other than the simple 'No, don't wanna,' which he suspected wouldn't do much for his argument that he was still an adult, thank you. "I simply..." he paused, trying to come up with a reasonable answer. "...don't feel ready to do that. And don't really feel like arguing about it."

Gunn opened his mouth, then closed it. He walked over to the window in the suite that Angel had prepared for them, and looked out, silently. Finally he said, "Okay. Not gonna push the kid-stuff. But can't we go out *somewhere* together? You're gonna make me think you don't wanna be seen with me."

Wesley looked up at him. "But I don't," he said as guilelessly as he could. Then he had to leap backwards to avoid being grabbed, and, no doubt, tickled mercilessly.

Gunn advanced on him, though, and he yelped. Much to his chagrin it sounded like a high-pitched squeal, and it stopped him from running away, as he'd intended. He stood firm, trying not to appear as embarrassed as he felt -- and Gunn reached for him. Wrapped an arm around him, and just squeezed him for a second.

"So where *do* you wanna go? Please don't say the art museum."

"Actually, I was going to say the library, but the art museum *is* a good idea." Gunn whimpered, and let his forehead fall onto Wesley's shoulder. When Gunn couldn't see him, Wesley grinned.

"I can see you grinning." Gunn didn't raise his head.

"You can not."

"I know you're grinning."

"That is not the same thing. Look, do you really want to...go somewhere?" He'd much rather stay at the hotel. But staying at the hotel meant making Gunn remain cooped up, as well, since he hadn't been able to convince the man to leave his *side* in five days.

Gunn glanced up, and gave him a pleading expression. "Please? Please can we go -- someplace at least halfway cool, sorta fun, which doesn't involve me saying 'huh?' all day and doesn't involve you getting pictures taken of you?"

Wesley blinked. "No pictures? Are you sure you won't go into withdrawal?"

"I'll make up for it later, trust me."

"No doubt." He couldn't quite give the words that guilt-inducing twist that they'd had a few days ago; Wesley wondered if he was losing that ability, as he moved towards the regression that he both dreaded and looked forward to, or whether the fun had simply gone out of it. Surely not?

He pursed his lips as he tried to come up with an appropriate place. Somewhere that he and Gunn could go, that they would both enjoy, yet would welcome children. Or apparent children, and their apparent parents.

"There's the Hawley Science Museum," he offered. Before Gunn could groan at the word 'museum,' he added, "It's really a sort of interactive thing. Sound experiments, walk around inside the giant human body, remote controlled dinosaur skeletons."

"You mean one of those places you go and play with the exhibits, and learn stuff?"

Wesley smiled, and nodded. "I wouldn't use the word 'play'--"

"Yeah, that's the problem. Yeah, sure, sounds good," Gunn said quickly. "Do we need to steal Angel's wallet before we go?"

Wesley pretended to think about it for a moment. "Well, admission isn't expensive, as such...."

"But?"

"But the food is, and if we go into the science store...."

"You know you can't buy that chemistry set you've been after, looking like a four year old."

"How did-- what chemistry set?"

But Gunn was standing up, and holding out his hand. "Come on, we better get going. If I stay in this hotel one more hour, I'm gonna start...brooding."

Wesley laughed, and had to clamp his jaw shut again. It sounded *wrong*. He did, however, take Gunn's hand, and tried not to worry about the quick look his lover gave him. If he did, they'd get into a long discussion about things he didn't want to think about, and it would simply delay their leaving.

*****