Another night, another round of patrolling through yet another cemetery. At least the demons weren’t singing anymore. Neither was she. God, she was so not singing about anything ever again.

So. All of her secrets were out in the open now … so why didn’t she feel better?

Tension coursed through Buffy’s body, setting her teeth on edge. She almost wished for a reappearance of Sweet. The Slayer in her wanted nothing more than to wrap her hands around the demon’s throat and twist his smarmy head off. She really needed to kill something, and her well meaning friends weren’t appropriate targets to vent any spleen on.

The night wasn’t being cooperative, however… no new fledglings to dust and no demons to whale on except for…

“Spike.” She rolled her eyes before she turned to face the vampire who’d not so silently snuck up behind her, and relaxed her grip on Mr. Pointy.

“Can we talk?”

“Vocal-chord-wise, yes. With each other? No.”

She turned and walked a few steps away.

“We have to talk,” he insisted.

Buffy sighed, resigned to hearing what he had to say. Knowing he wouldn’t shut up or go away until she’d let him have his way. “About what?”

“We kissed, Buffy.”

“So?”

She resumed walking, a bit faster this time. Spike followed, loping after her.

“We… we kissed, you and me. All Gone with the Wind, with the rising music, and the rising… music, and what was that, Buffy?”

“A spell?” She knew that was a low blow, inasmuch as it was she who’d instigated the kiss after Sweet had fled.

“Oh, don’t get all prim and proper with me.” Spike sped up, crossing in front of her, and blocked her path. “I know what kind of girl you really are, don’t I?”

Buffy glared at him. “What we did is done. But I will never kiss you, Spike. Never touch you ever, ever again.”

Spike cocked his head, ready to give her a piece of his mind. After all… nobody kissed like that without wanting more.

Suddenly, Buffy shoved Spike backwards, tackling him to the ground. Flat on his back with the Slayer lying across his body, he wasn’t about to question the contact – but then a spear whistled through the air where Spike had been, ending up embedded in a nearby tree.

They both looked up. A large, shaggy demon was rapidly advancing on the prone couple… bellowing as it retrieved yet another spear from a quiver on its back.

“Who’d you piss off now, Spike?” Buffy muttered, clambering off both Spike and the ground.

“Never seen the bugger or its like before, luv. High an’ low?”

The Slayer nodded, running full bore at the demon; unleashing a vicious kick to its jaw as Spike went low and took it down by its knees.

Grabbing one of its own spears, Buffy staked the struggling creature through the heart… or at least where she hoped its heart would be. With one last bellow, the demon died. Messily. Promptly exploding-melting into a puddle of grey goop, covering both the Slayer and vampire in stringy ropes of hair and muck.

Spike rose, trying to shake the goop from his skin. “Now that was far less fun than it promised to be,” he grumbled. “And I don’t know about you,” he winced, “but this stuff stings.”

“Some Big Bad you are.” Buffy snickered, wringing as much slime from her hair as she could. “More like a Big Bad Baby.”

“I’d love to stay an’ trade insults with you, pet,” Spike snarked, “but I’ve got to find a place to wash off. ‘Sides, I’m not the only one getting’ a nice case of goop rash. You’re lookin’ as rosy as a kiddy’s paddled bottom.”

Buffy felt her skin warming in a slightly itchy warning. Okay, so maybe getting free and clean of the demon gore would be a wise move. Already feeling slightly guilty for refusing to talk to Spike about the incident outside the Bronze, she invited him back to the house for a cleansing hose off in the back yard, and shelter until the sun set in the evening.

A lot more water than anticipated later, they climbed up the tree to her room, to avoid dripping water throughout the house.

“Not to be pushy, Slayer… but even a vamp appreciates dry clothing. ‘Sides,” Spike grumbled, “At the rate this stuff is disintegratin’ my clothes, m’gonna be completely starkers in about an hour.”

Sure enough, even Buffy could see his jeans were a little more threadbare than usual. “You’re a pig, Spike,” she said, no heat behind her words, even as she retrieved her mother’s ratty old blue terrycloth robe. “Why don’t you use the shower in the hallway, and I’ll use the one in here. I think it’s best we make sure all the demon gunk is gone.” Handing him the robe, she gently pushed him into the hallway.

Half an hour later, Spike stumbled into Joyce’s room, looking decidedly yummy with the blue robe loosely wrapped around his thin frame, and his hair a riot of platinum curls. Startled, “Holy guh!” was pretty much Buffy’s only coherent thought as she found herself torn between the fervent prayer that the robe’s tie would hold fast or vanish altogether.

Then Spike stopped, swaying. “Slayer! Buffy!”

Buffy snapped out of her daze as the vampire’s urgent tone bordered on panic. “What? What’s the matter with you?”

“Somethin’s not right, pet. M’dizzy an’ can’t focus.” Spike looked into her eyes. “I see three of you, though.” He grinned. “While it’s a pretty sight, it’s wrong.”

Flushing slightly at the compliment, Buffy noted the vampire’s dilated pupils, and an odd swirling in the irises; blue and violet roiling together.

Making her mind up quickly, she shepherded Spike to the bed. “Vampires don’t upchuck, do they? ‘Cause I so don’t want to wake up in a puddle of ick. One retch from you and I’m kicking you out of bed, got that?”

Halfway to unconsciousness already, Spike mumbled, “Knew you cared.”

“You keep telling yourself that, you peroxided pest.” Snuggling under the cover, Buffy pushed the vampire closer to the edge of the mattress. “And stop hogging the bed.” The last thought she had was whether or not she’d remembered to close the curtains… and finding herself irritated, hoping that she had.

***

“Earthquake!” Buffy thought in panic as she jolted awake, bouncing around on her mattress. She turned to Spike’s side of the bed, noticing nothing but an empty robe. Sitting up quickly, she pulled the robe to her, searching for the pile of ashes she was sure would be there.

No ashes. And the drapes had indeed been closed, so where was…?

She tried to straighten her mind out, confused. Okay, the mattress was still being jolted, but the room was still, so no earthquake. Turning around, Buffy saw a naked little boy jumping up and down on the bed, with a great big smile on his face.

“Mornin,’ lady,” he chirped in a sweet, boyish British accent.

Buffy felt her stomach sink. “Oh, God.”

No, no, no, no fucking way in hell! This was not happening to her. The loud mouthed, hyperactive, immature, piggish, hot bodied Spike was hard enough to deal with… but this? One very pale, curly blond haired, hyperactive, adorable and yet apparently still very male child was going to break her.

Buffy closed her eyes and hoped against hope that this was just some delusion – a very weird dream that would vanish like the mist when she looked again. Her hope was shattered when she felt a sharp poke on her shoulder.

“Lady, do you know where my mum is?” The boy’s beautiful blue eyes looked hopeful, as if Buffy would be able to solve all his problems with just one word.

Oh, God… just like Spike.

His little brow furrowed the longer Buffy remained silent. “Did I do something wrong, lady? Am I being punished? Why won’t you tell me where my mum is?” Tears began to course down his cheekbones; his beautifully delicate high cheekbones.

Buffy was mortified. How could she scare the little one so? Even if he was Spike, right now he couldn’t be more than three or four years old and he was missing his mommy.

“Don’t be afraid, little boy. My name is Buffy.” She held out her arms, and the child rushed in for a hug, snuggling tightly against her chest. Wrapping the robe around his little body, she noted the lack of body heat. Terrific, not only a baby, but a vampire baby to boot. “What’s your name, sweetie?” she asked, wanting to keep the boy calm.

He sniffled, wiping his nose against Buffy’s shirt before looking up at her. “My name is William Matthew John Bartlett, an’ m’this many years old,” he said, holding up his little hand with all five fingers splayed wide. “Now will you tell me where my mum is?”

Five, huh? Guess they grew ‘em smaller in the old days, not that Buffy was one to talk about height. Pot, kettle, black much? She knew William had to be told something about his mother, but what could she say that wouldn’t freak him out?

Well, it was best not to lie, exactly. Not knowing how long Spike would remain five would make that old, fast. Buffy had to settle for an old standard. “I’m sorry, William. I really don’t know where your mother is…”

“Bloody hell.” William’s eyes opened wide as the words slipped out of his mouth. Language like that would certainly earn him a stern lecture from his mum, and get his mouth washed out with that awful tasting soap again, as well. “I’m sorry, Miss Buffy,” he countered, quickly. “Don’t be angry with me. I won’t say such vulgar things again. Please don’t tell Mum.”

It was almost too much for Buffy. Apparently, William had a potty mouth to go along with his sharp mind, and this certainly wasn’t the first time he’d used it. He was probably all too familiar with the taste of soap in his mouth. Hearing Spike’s favorite phrase out of this little one’s mouth was taxing her self control to the max. She so didn’t want to laugh in his face.

“It’s okay, William. I promise I won’t tell your mom, if you promise to try not to say it again. Do we have a deal?”

The little boy shook his head emphatically, very relieved that Miss Buffy wasn’t angry, and that his mother wouldn’t find out about his bad manners.

Buffy smiled. William was truly adorable. “I know a friend who might be able to help. Would you like to go on a little adventure with me?”

“Oh yes, please!” His eyes lit up at the prospect of an adventure with this pretty Buffy lady. Most of the time his mum preferred him to play quietly and out of the way in his nursery.

Buffy couldn’t help herself. She reached out and ruffled the boy’s curls, justifying to herself that she’d never again see them in their natural state. “All right William, that’s what we’ll do. But I need you to sit on the bed for a few moments while I get ready. Can you do that for me?”

William nodded, eager for the adventure to begin, watching as Buffy left the room.

Less than ten minutes later – after getting dressed and a quick call to Giles, telling him they had a little Spike problem and to leave his door open – Buffy peeked into the room to see what William had gotten up to. Knowing Spike, she was fairly sure the boy wouldn’t be sitting still on the bed.

Sure enough, he was opening all the dresser drawers, looking through the clothing; his robe lying on the bed, forgotten. Getting the boy something to wear that fit was fast becoming an imperative. Giving William a little grace period, Buffy knocked on the door, allowing him to scramble back onto the bed before she entered.

“Sorry that your clothing isn’t here, cutie. Your visit was a surprise for both of us.” She held out the robe once more, this time wrapping it several times around his tiny body, and winding the tie around his waist at least three times. “I promise my friend will help us get something that’s more comfortable.”

Pulling the thick comforter from the bed, Buffy swaddled the boy, not wanting to take any chances with him getting burned. She explained that this was a secret adventure – nobody was to know William was there.

“I’m not frightened, Miss Buffy,” he said, bravely. “But can we get there very fast?”

“Very fast, William,” Buffy promised. “And I’ll hold on tightly so nothing will happen.”

“Good,” came the muffled reply, as she pulled the blanket over his head and headed out the door.

***

Giles was standing by his open door by the time Buffy arrived with her little bundle.

“Good Lord! You really did mean a little Spike problem, didn’t you?” Giles was fascinated by the tow headed youngster walking around his living room. “How did this happen?”

“All I can think of is that Spike and I fought this seven foot tall, black haired Sasquatchy looking thing that exploded and covered us with blood and guts.” Buffy shuddered at the memory. “Spike complained of it stinging him right away, but I only felt a little itchy. He was fine after we showered… although come to think of it, he was feeling sorta wonky before we went to bed.”

At Buffy’s words, the Watcher caught his breath. After the incident with Angelus, he’d never felt comfortable with his Slayer’s continued relationship with the resouled vampire. As for her continuing reliance on Angel’s unsouled grandshilde… he was antagonistic to say the least. What was with this girl and vampires?

Buffy looked up from watching William explore and noticed Giles’ distress. Her brow furrowed as she replayed her last words in her mind.

“Ewww, Giles! Gutter-brain much?” She began to pace back and forth, her agitation noticeable. “Where do you get off thinking that I would… and with Spike? I mean, yeah, he’s hot in that hot body to drool over kind of way… and I think I’m going to keep very quiet now.”

“Please, Buffy… let’s just change the subject entirely, and never let me hear the words Spike and hot in the same sentence ever again.”

Just as she was about to agree, William tugged on her pants, silently asking for some lap time. Buffy obliged. “What can I do for you, little man?”

“I’m hungry, Miss Buffy.” He looked at her reproachfully. “We didn’t have breakfast before we left on our adventure.”

Oh boy. Her mother would be so proud of her – starving a little boy. What does one feed a five year old amnesiac vampire child for breakfast, anyway?

Giles coughed. “How about a plate of bacon and scrambled eggs, son? And some nice, red juice?”

Yay! Giles to the rescue.

“Yes, sir. That would be fine.” William practically bounced up and down on Buffy’s lap in anticipation.

Ushering the boy to a seat at the table, Buffy went into the kitchen to help get his meal ready. “Thanks, Giles. I can’t believe I forgot to offer William something to eat.” She bowed her head in embarrassment. “It was just the shock of the whole situation.”

“I understand, Buffy. It’s certainly a most unusual set of circumstances.” Giles deftly cracked a few eggs in a bowl. “Would you care for some breakfast, as well?”

“Sounds absolutely yummy. That red juice wouldn’t happen to be blood, would it?”

“Yes, it is. I’m rather curious to see the boy’s reaction.” The Watcher looked over at William momentarily. “Are we sure he’s a vampire? He’s certainly anxious for human food.”

Buffy laughed. “I’m pretty sure, Giles. I’ve held him, and he felt cool to the touch, and I hadn’t noticed a heartbeat or pulse. But, Spike has always been the strangest vampire you’ll ever meet. He breathes on a regular basis and he adores human food, especially spicy things like onions and buffalo wings. Do you have anything to add to the eggs?”

Diced onions, green and red peppers and more eggs were added to the bowl, and soon there was omelet enough for all. Buffy brought the food laden tray to the table.

Watching William eat was entertaining, to say the least. The boy devoured the eggs by shoving them onto pieces of toast, his little eyes closing in pleasure as his appetite was assuaged. The bacon was eaten hand to mouth – William couldn’t be bothered with forks and knives. He was just too hungry.

He did, however, wipe his hands on his napkin before grabbing the mug with both hands, and draining the blood without a second’s hesitation. He smacked his lips together, holding the empty mug out before him. “Please, sir… may I have some more?”

Giles was toast. Who wouldn’t crumble between some Oliver Twist and a blood mustache? As he went to refill the mug, Buffy took a napkin and wiped the blood from Williams’s upper lip.

“Remember I told you that we were on a secret adventure, William?” Buffy was hopeful the boy wouldn’t fight her on this. Taking him out during daylight hours was going to be risky, and not to be undertaken unnecessarily.

He nodded.

“Well, I need to go out and get you some clothing as a disguise. Will you stay here with Mr. Giles until I get back?”

William wasn’t happy about the idea of Miss Buffy leaving, but she said she’d be back. “Will it be alright if I ask for something else to eat?”

Buffy smiled, surprised at how protective she felt towards the boy. She could see the features that would become Spike in his little face, and was helpless to resist the urge to gently stroke his face, reassuring them both.

“It’s okay, William. You can ask Mr. Giles for anything you’d like. And, if he asks you questions, it’s okay for you to answer him.” With a ruffle of the boy’s hair, and a wave to Giles, Buffy headed out, hoping her swift departure wouldn’t give anyone time to complain or get upset.

Giles was fascinated; both by the boy and by his own feelings. He knew that if this was the grown up Spike, he would have no compunction about throwing the vamp out of his house in broad daylight. Looking at William in his oversized robe, the Watcher knew he’d bend over backwards before causing the child any pain. The thought of actually testing for vampiristic traits by traditional methods – crosses, holy water and sunlight – was abhorrent.

Still, this was an opportunity not to be ignored. If he couldn’t test William physically, he could do so in other ways. See what made the child tick and what laid the foundation for one of the worst vampires in recorded history.

So, when breakfast was over, Giles set eagerly to work.

In a separate diary – one he’d not be submitting to the Watchers’ Council – he recorded all the information he managed to gather. William’s full name, his parents’ names, his address in London and his actual date of birth.

It turned out William also had a wonderful ear for classical music, and enjoyed being read to in both Latin and English. Maths seemed to give the boy trouble… numbers bored him. Several glasses of blood and some dunked cookies later, Buffy returned, laden with packages.

William was ecstatic. He hopped off the couch, paying no attention to the robe that once more remained behind as he ran into her arms, wrapping his little arms and legs around her body when she scooped him up. “Miss Buffy! Miss Buffy! You came back.”

With a light spank to his rear end, Buffy put the boy down. “Told you I’d be back. I keep my promises. I brought a nice disguise for you to wear. Are you ready?”

When he nodded, she told him to sit on the couch, while she gathered up the packages and brought them with her.

Giles came back into the room as William’s sneakers were being tied, and couldn’t help a burst of laughter escaping at the sight of the boy. “Oh, Buffy… that’s almost cruel – even for you.”

“Bought a camera and film, too. No way I could pass up this opportunity. Big Bad my… Aunt Fanny.” Buffy giggled. “Xander always called him the bleached menace… now he looks the part. When he gets back to normal, he’s gonna turn as red as his overalls.”

Posing William in the middle of the floor and telling him not to be afraid of the little flash of light from the camera, Buffy took a half a roll of pictures. He stood there, alternating smiles and grimaces… a vision in red Oshkosh overalls, a blue and white striped t-shirt and white sneakers – the very image of Dennis the Menace.

William had an odd moment when his tummy just clenched. He’d been made fun of before, by the bigger boys, and there was something about Miss Buffy’s laughter that made him feel just as bad.

“Is there something wrong with my costume?” He looked Buffy in the eyes, tears threatening to fall. “Are you making sport of me?”

Buffy’s stomach twisted at the sound of his little voice. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t as clever as she thought she had been. Maybe William was as perceptive as Spike had always been. She’d certainly bought the clothes as a joke, but now she realized she’d hurt him… and somehow, felt she had to repair the damage she’d done.

She dropped to one knee, taking both small hands in her own. “I’m sorry if I made you feel bad, William. It’s just that you look like someone else that we know, and he doesn’t wear such bright colors.” Buffy hung her head, finding it difficult to see the pain in the little one’s eyes, knowing she’d put it there. “I’ll tell you what. Let’s take off the red pants and change them for blue. That’s all it’ll take to make things better.”

He smiled shakily when he was redressed. Perhaps the Buffy lady wouldn’t turn out to be so hurtful after all.

Handing him a box of crayons and some paper, Buffy told William that she needed some adult time to speak to Mr. Giles, and asked him to play quietly for a bit. He sniffled, but settled down at the table.

Running her hand through her hair, she turned to her Watcher, speaking softly so little vampire ears wouldn’t catch the conversation.

“I’m a rotten person, Giles. Not only didn’t I think of feeding William this morning, but I hurt his feelings.” Buffy sighed. Pointing in the boy’s general direction, she said, “I think that little vampire blows the theory that soulless demons can’t feel right out of the water. Which probably means that Spike…”

“You’re not rotten, Buffy. I’m sure finding a naked youngster in bed would be a shock to any non-parent. Giles removed his glasses, wiping them with a handkerchief. “Although I will admit that as for the clothing, that was a bit on the cruel side. Making a child the butt of a joke – even if the child is Spike – is never a good idea.”

He leaned in closer, definitely not wanting William to catch this part of the conversation. “But you cannot let this one incident affect you permanently. If you worry each time you patrol about hurting a vampire’s feelings, you’re the one who will end up dead. Your very purpose is to kill them, hence the title, Vampire Slayer. As for whether Spike has feelings or not, it’s irrelevant. He is irrelevant, not to mention a danger to you. The nerve of him, fancying himself in love with the Slayer.”

Great, just what she needed. Another ‘vampires and your personal life’ lecture. Buffy was tired and itchy from not showering in the morning, and worried about William’s fate if he didn’t become Spike again soon.

Fortunately, Giles was way ahead of her. “But that’s beside the point right now. We should be worried more about how an almost twenty-six year old man turned vampire over one hundred and twenty years ago became a five year old vampire child,” he mused, “rather than worrying about Spike and his feelings. What happens if William never reverts to Spike? Who will care for the boy if he remains a child for all eternity? It might be more humane to end his existence now, instead of letting him become a target for sport amongst other demons.”

Buffy was horrified. “How could you look at that boy and think of dusting him? I’d call Angel first. After all, Spike is part of his ‘family’. It’s just that I’m just not sure he won’t want to dust him, either.”

“This begs another more important question, Buffy. Why is it that only Spike was transformed? You were both covered in the demon’s blood, yes?” Giles brow furrowed with the direction of his thoughts. “Here, why don’t you go home and get some rest, and leave the boy here. I have enough blood and food to keep him comfortable. Come back tomorrow, and we’ll have everyone come in to research the demon who attacked you.”

Please let this be easy! Buffy walked over to the table, to see what had William so engrossed, and to make her goodbyes. The little boy handed her the picture he’d been working on.

“This is a very pretty picture, William. Who is that person supposed to be?”

William smiled, happy that his picture had pleased her. “That’s you, Miss Buffy. I drew in all your yellow hair, see? It’s for you.”

“I love it, cutie. I think I’ll take it home and hang it up to look at all the time.” Buffy took a deep calming breath. “William, I have some things I need to do, and I need you to be a good boy and sleep here tonight. Mr. Giles said you’re welcome to stay and I’ll come back and see you in the morning.” One look at the boy and Buffy knew it was not going to be a pretty scene.

William’s bottom lip quivered as he fought to keep his words inside. His eyes filled with tears that soon overflowed; dripping down his cheeks to splash on his latest drawing. With a wail of “No!” the little boy climbed down from the chair and flung himself at Buffy, wrapping his arms around her and crying as if his heart was broken.

Buffy knelt down, to be eye level with the child. “Don’t cry, William. I promise I’ll be back in the morning.”

“No, no, no, no, no!” he sobbed. “Don’t leave me, Miss Buffy. I’ll be good. I’ll be better than good.”

Buffy knew that this was so bad. She was becoming way too attached for her own good. She gently pried William’s grasping fingers from her neck and held him at arm’s distance. “I’m sorry William, really I am, but you have to stay here tonight. And I have to leave, now.”

The boy sank heavily onto the floor, one last heartbreaking cry rent the air… before it turned into a roar. When he looked up, sulphurous yellow eyes blazed in a miniature gameface.

“Giles!!” Buffy moved slowly, torn between reaching for a stake and gathering the child to her bosom. Watching the boy closely, all she could see, Slayer and woman alike, were the tears still coursing down his cheeks. Taking a chance, Buffy opened her arms, welcoming little William, gameface and all, into her embrace.

Giles watched as the little boy flung himself into his Slayer’s arms, burrowing his face into the crook of her neck. “William!” he snapped, suddenly very afraid. When the boy lifted his head from Buffy’s neck, his human mask was back. Fascinating. “Is everything all – all right?”

Buffy – too caught up in calming the boy to answer him – merely held up her hand, hoping he’d stay back. “It’s okay, William. I’ll stay. I won’t leave you tonight.” Gently stroking his back, Buffy could feel his little muscles relaxing; the tension going out of his limbs. Within moments, he was fast asleep on her shoulder.

Giles led them up to the guest room, where Buffy attempted to settle the sleeping boy into bed. With one last tightening of his arms around her neck, William relaxed into the mattress, allowing himself to be tucked in.

At her Watcher’s inquisitive look, Buffy whispered, “I’ll be fine here, Giles. I think it’s best I keep a close eye on William, just in case he goes all ‘Grrr’ again.” She yawned. “Right now, I think I’m as wiped as he is. We’ll talk tomorrow, ‘kay?”

When the door clicked closed, Buffy crawled into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. Within moments, William squirmed his way against her belly, relishing the contact and warmth, and the security of knowing he wasn’t alone.

***
Far too early, Giles awoke to the sound of hysterical crying coming from the guest room. Worried that the boy had once again gone into gameface and might be out of control, he opened the door to the room... and found… William attempting to calm down an extremely upset little girl, blond hair full of tangles and cheeks streaked with tears, who bore a striking resemblance to... his Slayer.

"Good lord," Giles groaned, removing his glasses. "I suppose that's the answer to that question."

“I live on the Hellmouth; these things happen. I live on the Hellmouth; these things happen,” Giles muttered to himself. Buffy’s transformation wasn’t shockingly unexpected, in light of what happened with Spike… but he had hoped she would be spared.

Well, standing in the doorway, staring at the two children wasn’t going to accomplish anything. Best to start with the child who knew him.

“William, can you tell me what happened?” There! Cool, calm – the very model of an authority figure guaranteed to keep things under control.

Both children began to sob in earnest.

Giles flinched. “There now, children,” he fumbled. “It’s all right. No need to be frightened.” He knew that he would never again ponder whether his life was complete without children. He’d barely opened his eyes and he was already overwhelmed.

What did Buffy do yesterday to calm the boy? Ah yes. He sat down on the end of the bed and opened his arms in invitation. Instantly, he found himself cuddling two very soggy children… one of whom was almost wearing nothing more than a tank top.

When the crying stopped, Giles disengaged himself from their grip, but remained on the bed, figuring to keep their height differences to a minimum. Hopefully, talking with the boy would go better this time.

“William, I’m sorry if I frightened you before. You do remember me from yesterday, yes?”

The boy nodded, wiping his teary eyes with the back of his hand. “Yes, sir. Miss Buffy said your name was Mr. Giles.”

“That’s right, son. You can just call me Giles; no need to be so formal.” Taking a deep breath, Giles prepared for the difficult part of the conversation. “Now, I need to talk to you about the little girl. Do you know who she is?”

The girl reached over and tugged at his shirtsleeve. “Mister, I’m sitting right here. My name is Buffy Anne Summers. My mom’s name is Joyce and my dad’s name is Hank.” She raised her little chin in a very familiar gesture, the stubborn set to her jaw was something he’d seen plenty of for the past six years. “Why am I wearing this funny shirt and where’s my mommy?”

Giles was saved from having to come up with some kind of plausible lie when William spoke up. “You told me yesterday that we were on a secret adventure and that Mr. Giles would help to find my mum. Maybe he can help you find your mum, as well.”

“I don’t ‘member you.” Buffy pouted. After scratching at the back of her neck, she reached over and pushed the little boy away from her. “And you make me feel itchy.”

Not put off in the slightest, William sat up and poked Buffy in the shoulder. “Well, yesterday you were a big lady, and today you’re little, like me. Maybe your brains shrunk and you can’t remember everything you did.”

“Can too!”

“Can’t!”

“You’re a mean poopy-head.”

“And you’re scared.” William cocked his head, recognizing his own feelings reflected in hers. “S’okay, Buffy. Yesterday I was scared, too… an’ you made me feel better.” He picked up one of her hands, hoping she wouldn’t push him again. “I can help you not be scared, if you let me.”

“I am so not scared,” the little girl insisted, even as her eyes began to fill again.

William reached over and wiped the tears from her face with the corner of the duvet.

Giles just stood back, intrigued. This little piece of toffee would become William the Bloody? For some reason, he’d always thought William would have been one of those little bullies who tore the wings off of butterflies and drowned kittens.

Spike certainly was a mass of contradictions. Giles remembered the vampire’s devotion to a weakened Drusilla, and he’d been responsible for Giles’ own rescue from Angelus. He’d even been informed of the vampire’s attachment to Dawn last summer, when Buffy was gone. Spike’s self-proclaimed affection for the Slayer, however, was a major source of annoyance and amusement for everyone – it was thought to be nothing more than vampire-obsession.

Having seen the interplay between the children, the Watcher had to concede that he just might have been wrong in his assessment of Spike, and would have to talk with him when he returned to form.

Obviously not paying attention, he startled when he felt a tug on his shirtsleeves.

“Mister… Willum said you would make us some breakfast. We’re hungry.”

“Yes. What a lovely idea,” Giles agreed. Something he could readily make that would focus the children for a period of time… while he called for backup. Surely Tara or Willow had some spare time during the day. And Xander? He was barely more than a large child, himself… perfect for entertaining the children during the evening hours.

Giles was about to turn for the door when Buffy crawled down from the bed – feet first, flashing her naked bottom as her adult-sized tank slithered off. Right, then. First things first. “William, do you know where Buffy put those extra clothes she brought yesterday?”

The boy found the shopping bag and dragged it over to the bed, dumping the contents for inspection.

Buffy was adamant in voicing her displeasure. “Nuh uh.” She wrinkled her nose with disgust. “No way I’m wearing boy underwear.”

Amazing, he thought. Fashion conscious at five. She must have given Joyce holy hell during her pre-adolescence. Well, the only way to get through this was with patience, and he’d had plenty of practice with that.

“I know the outfit is not what you’re used to,” Giles said, “but until we can go shopping, it will have to do. It is far better than running around naked, don’t you think?” He knew the moment the words were out of his mouth they were a mistake.

Sure enough, with a twinkle in her eye and a quick glimpse over to William, one very naked Buffy Anne Summers streaked out of the room. Sensing the boy was about to follow, Giles scooped him into his arms, having a terrifying vision of William following Buffy out the front door, into the bright sunshine. Buffy would eventually get over her embarrassment, but William would not be able to recover from bursting into ash.

Moments later, Giles heard Buffy clomping back up the stairs.

“It’s no fun if you don’t try and catch me, Mister.” She might have been talking to Giles, but she was staring at William, disappointed that he hadn’t followed her, and letting him know that in no uncertain terms.

“Get dressed, please, Buffy,” Giles said kindly but firmly, pointing at the pile of clothes.

Grudgingly, Buffy pulled on a pair of the detested boy’s briefs, socks, a red and white striped t-shirt and the red overalls. Little sock-covered toes wiggled as she looked around for shoes, not finding any.

“All right, children. Let’s go downstairs and get something to eat for breakfast.” Giles watched the two blondes head downstairs, suddenly aware that they could be taken for fraternal twins, or cousins. One human – possibly still Slayer, and one vampire – what would become of them if their situations were not reversed… and soon?

***

Breakfast was a calm affair; eggs and dry cereal, milk, blood, orange juice and tea all consumed quietly.

While Buffy and Spike finished their meal, Giles managed to get Tara on the phone, and she agreed to come over within the next half hour. He’d hesitated to tell her why, only that it was important.

Opening the door at her knock, both were jarred by the loud bang of something heavy falling in the livingroom, followed by two sets of giggles.

“Babysitting, Mr. Giles?” Tara eyebrow rose in amusement, wondering what mischief the children had gotten up to, knowing that if she heard laughter, they weren’t hurt. “Why didn’t you just tell me over the phone?”

“Er, um… my cousin just dropped them off unexpectedly this morning,” Giles hedged, not quite willing to scare the poor girl off yet. “when I was just barely awake. Obviously I was not in my right mind when I agreed to take them.”

Tara walked into the livingroom, and noted the downed bookcase, it’s contents scattered all over the floor. One look at the two imps, one look back, and they settled quietly on the floor, waiting to hear their punishment. Both were highly relieved when the woman burst out into raucous laughter.

“Oh, this is just too much,” she gasped, clutching her stomach to try and control her glee. “Even for a Hellmouth. How did you expect me to sit for these two without telling me one of them was… you know” she whispered. “Opening the curtains would have been disastrous.”

“H-how d-did you know?” Giles stuttered.

“For one thing, I have eyes. Just looking at them you can see the adults they’ll become.” Tara said, delicately, trying not to hurt the man’s feelings. “I can also see their auras, Mr. Giles. I’d recognize them anywhere.”

“Oh. Well that saves me from having to explain just how two little ones can bring down a hardwood bookcase without getting crushed underneath it.

Tara relaxed, relieved that she wasn’t needed for anything out of the ordinary. Glancing at her watch, she figured herself in for an uneventful afternoon until the relief shift arrived.

Six hours later she was staring out the window, anxiously awaiting the arrival of Xander and Willow. As soon as they were spotted halfway down the walk, Tara called out her goodbyes and grabbed her bag, not waiting for replies. She doubted anyone would hear her, anyway.

***

“Xander, listen!” Willow concentrated on the noise she heard as they approached Giles’ apartment. “It sounds like a sword fight – all clangy metal and screaming.”

Xander’s level of apprehension rose when Tara came running out of the door; barely making out the words ‘help’ and ‘Spike’ and ‘Buffy.’ Grabbing Willow’s hand and reaching for his stake, they ran into the apartment.

Giles was sitting in the middle of his livingroom floor, trying to sort his books into piles of salvageable and destroyed. The din was coming from the kitchen. Inasmuch as the Watcher was unharmed and apparently unperturbed by the racket, Xander pocketed his stake and crept into the kitchen to see what was going on, followed by an anxious Willow.

The brunet stared at a little girl, banging merrily away on some overturned pots with a metal spoon. A little boy was hunting through the cabinets for more things to bang on.

“Oh, how adorable!!! Willow squeaked, ignoring the ear-splitting sound levels. She ran into the living room, sinking to the floor next to the beleaguered man. “Giles… who are they?

Time for show and tell, he thought. “Buffy, Spike… come in here at once,” Giles shouted, hoping he would be heard and acknowledged.

Xander followed the kids into the room, his mouth hanging open in shock. “Nah… you’re joshing us, right G-man? No way these kids can be…” Looking closely, he began to see that they were, indeed, who they were pronounced to be. “Well, I’ll be hornswaggled. Is that widdle Spikey?”

William stood stiffly, glaring up at the older man, very unhappy with his tone of voice. It made him feel worse than he had during the incident with Buffy yesterday. “What did you call me?”

This was just too much fun to pass up. Xander chucked the boy under the chin. “I called you widdle Spikey. It’s your name, isn’t it?”

With a growl, William shed his human mask; yellow eyes burned into Xander and hatred poured out of the little vampire. “My name is William. You’re nothing but a big bully and I won’t let you make sport of me.”

Xander fell back in shock, not expecting the boy to go into gameface.

Willow sat on the floor, watching her best friend dig himself deeper and deeper, but keeping a close eye on Spike. If he decided to go for Xander’s throat, she’d be able to separate them with a wave of her hands.

The Watcher was pretty sure the little boy was gaining control of his demon, able to bring about the transformation at will. It was obvious intense emotion brought the demon closer to the surface, which only made sense.

Annoyed that playtime had come to a halt, and that William was being upset by the mean man, Buffy walked over to Xander and pushed him down on the floor, hard. “Go pick on someone your own size, buster!”

Oh man – that was embarrassing. Xander Harris was just this side of pissing his pants thanks to a half-pint vampire, and he’d just been knocked on his ass by a mini-Slayer. An uncharitable thought crossed his mind – nothing had changed.

However, he figured his best course of action was an apology. Fighting with children was so not cool, anyway. “All right, all right, I give. No more making fun of the shorter people.” He extended his right hand as a peace offering, which both children warily shook.

William sat down on the floor, refusing to look at anyone. He really didn’t like being made fun of. Still angry, he touched his face – noticing the ridges and the fangs. “Why does my face feel funny?” He looked at Buffy. For some reason he thought she would know.

Sure enough, she looked into his face, and then ran her fingers gently over his brow and mouth. Shaking her head gravely at the conclusion she had drawn, she said, “You’re a bampire.”

“I am not!”

“Are too!”

“Vampires aren’t real.”

“Are too.”

Willow knelt down in front of the little boy, waiting for him to acknowledge her. “Yes, William, vampires are real, and you are a vampire. A little boy vampire. Very tough and manly.”

He thought about it for a minute, then cocked his head. “M’tough and scary?”

Xander shook his head in affirmation.

“Then I want to be called Spike from now on. William is for nancyboys.”

“C’mon, you scary bampire. Let’s go back in the kitchen and make more music. I’m bored.” Buffy dragged Spike back in by the arm and soon the two started banging the pots and pans around again.

When they were out of earshot, Xander’s curiosity got the better of him. “So, where’s your fountain of youth, Giles… and how come we have the munchkin brigade?”

“Demon blood, most likely.” Giles sighed. “Apparently they were fighting something tall and black and hairy and it exploded all over them. Spike woke up transformed yesterday, and Buffy transformed this morning.”

“Oooh… research party!” Willow was thrilled. Transmographication on this order might give her insight on how to de-rat Amy. “Just one question, Giles. Why was Tara in such a hurry to leave here? She was very… um… flustered.”

“Think, Willow.” Giles looked up from his piles of books. “Being cooped up in the house with two preternatural creatures that have no real outlet for their overabundant stores of energy thanks to the daylight – and five year olds, to boot. They would have tried the patience of a saint. Frankly, after dinner, I’m counting on you and Xander to take them shopping for some additional clothing and taking them out for a run in the park to get them out of my hair.” He raked a rueful hand across his scalp. “What there is left of it after today, that is.”

***

The trip to WalMart was uneventful, mainly because Xander stayed in the car with Spike, and Willow kept Buffy firmly belted into the shopping cart. Half an hour later they were the proud owners of several new outfits for each child, sneakers for Buffy… and specifically several packages of dainty cotton undies with flowery prints. Also the essentials: toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, soap, shampoo and creamrinse. Keeping Buffy’s long hair tangle free was no easy task.

By the time the car pulled into the parking lot, both children were practically vibrating in their seats. Willow gave them firm instructions. No climbing over the park’s fencing, no running out of sight and of course, being extra careful of any other children that might still be in the park.

Spike and Buffy whooped, and entered into a rousing game of tag, with their ‘protectors’ in full pursuit. It wasn’t long before first Xander, and then Willow admitted defeat and sat out on the benches, sweating and panting hard.

“Look, Spike,” Buffy shouted from across the park. “We beated the old folks.”

The little vampire stared at the exhausted adults for a moment, before slipping into gameface and tearing across the park at breakneck speed, Buffy in hot pursuit.

Xander had a sour expression on his face. “Is it just me, Will?” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Doesn’t it give you the wiggins to see a vampire chasing after Buffy with his drippy fangs out, no matter how small and cute? I mean, remember the Annointed One?”

“Get off it, bucko.” Willow smacked him on the shoulder. “You’ve never liked Spike… even though it’s a given that you have reasons. So do I, but that little one doesn’t look like he would harm a fly. And his fangs aren’t drippy. I’m sure he did that so he could see better in the dark, that’s all. Buffy’s totally safe.”

The elder Scoobies sat and watched as the little ones ran wild. Up and down the slide, balancing on the teeter totters, and in general just running their new sneakers into the ground in laps around the park.

Spike suddenly veered off, heading straight for the monkeybars. He reached the top in seconds, balancing on the uppermost rung, daring Buffy to climb up and catch him. She just stood her ground, daring him to jump back down.

Stalemate – neither child giving in. Suddenly, Spike began to sway in an alarming manner. The little blonde instinctively knew she wasn’t big enough to catch him, or fast enough to get up there before he fell. “Hold on,” she screamed, running for the bench.

Xander had heard her distress, however, and was already heading for the monkeybars. He was mere seconds too late, and saw it close up as Spike lost his balance and fell backwards, striking his head on the top bar as he fell heavily to the ground.

“Shit!” Xander panicked. He knew you weren’t supposed to move an accident victim, for fear of unsettling broken bones and other internal injuries, but that was for humans. When he noticed a small pool of blood forming under the boy’s head, he made up his mind, sliding his arms under Spike’s knees and neck, heading for the car, followed by Willow, who carried a sobbing Buffy.

Willow drove as quickly as she dared, hurrying to get them back to Giles for whatever medical assistance you could offer a vampire. At the very least he’d have blood in the fridge. Ten minutes later, Xander was sprinting from the car with Spike in his arms.

Buffy kicked the door in, not giving Xander time to knock or see if it was unlocked… yelling, “Fix him, fix him!” at Giles the moment she saw him.

“Oh dear Lord, Xander. What happened?” Giles cleared his couch immediately, grabbing a towel to put under the boy’s head.

Buffy spoke up, pushing her way to the head of the couch. “We was running and Spike climbed on the monkeybars and stood on the top bar and he wouldn’t come down and he started to shake and he fell.”
The breathless little girl pulled at Giles’ arm, almost wrenching his shoulder from the socket. “Please, mister… make him wake up. Bampires are s’posed to get better real fast.”

“Vampires, Buffy. They’re called vampires,” he said, absently. “and I’ll do the best I can. I promise.” The Watcher brought over a bowl of warm water and antiseptic cream, and examined the lump on the back of Spike’s head. He found a knot the size of a walnut, which had already stopped bleeding.

He gently cleansed the area, removing as much blood as possible from Spike’s hair, leaving it with a faint pinkish tint. Not a sound, movement or breath from the boy. He was deeply unconscious.

“Well then, I believe I’ve done all I can do at the moment.” Giles tried to reconcile the little corpse with the child who’d been driving him insane earlier in the day, and failed, miserably. “Spike’s going to have to pull through on his own. The best news I can give you is as long as you see him, he’s got a chance. Vampires heal better than anything, with the exception of Slayers.”

He carried the boy carefully upstairs to the guestroom, taking a new pair of pajamas from Willow and undressing and redressing Spike – taking the opportunity to check his body for other injuries.

“I can always try a healing spell on Spike, ya’know… if he doesn’t come out of it soon.” Willow’s eyes were sparkling with excitement over the possibility.

“Absolutely not, Willow. There’s already something mystical wrapped around Spike and Buffy. The last thing we need is your magic intertwined with the unknown.” Grateful that the redhead had spoken up before actually attempting the spell on her own, Giles attempted to keep his temper under control.

“There is one more avenue of action open to us, and I’ll only use it if Spike hasn’t awoken by morning.” Giles took a deep breath before he continued. “And that will be to call Angel… part of Spike’s bloodline.”

Morning came with no relief for anyone in the Giles home. Willow had attempted to sleep on the couch, while Xander slouched in the wing-backed chair, eyes red and chin stubbled.

Finally, they decided to leave, after one more check on the children. They left a note for Giles saying they’d gone home to try and get some actual sleep, with a request that he call them if anything changed.

Giles had quietly entered the guestroom every half hour or so to see if there was any change in Spike’s condition, and to see if Buffy required anything. But outside of Spike, who hadn’t twitched so much as a muscle, the only one to get any sleep at all was Buffy. Except for potty breaks, the little girl hadn’t left the vampire’s bedside.

Several times he found her singing quietly – nonsense words – meant to catch Spike’s attention should he rise to consciousness. Other times she would just hold his hand, or brush a platinum curl from his forehead. And just once, he found her cuddled up to the boy like he was a life-sized doll – head on his chest and her arm around his belly.

Even Giles wasn’t immune to an attack of the the childish innocence of the situation, and rummaged around until he found Buffy’s camera. Praying the flash wouldn’t wake the little girl, but would wake Spike, he shot a handful of pictures. Neither budged.

Two small children in pajamas; a sight adorable enough to almost make him reconsider fatherhood. Almost, mind you. At least in his dreams.

The last time Giles checked his bedside clock, it was three a.m.; right in the middle of a vampire’s normal waking cycle. The simple fact that Spike hadn’t awoken in over six hours was worrisome. His mind made up, Giles strode into the guestroom, and noticed Buffy was indeed awake and sitting up once more.

“Buffy,” he said, sitting down on the bed to try and break the news gently to her, “I’m not happy that it’s taking so much time for Spike to wake up from his accident. There is nothing else I can do for him, but make him comfortable… and that’s just not acceptable.”

The little girl’s eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. It was obvious that she’d been crying on and off when she was alone with Spike. “You have to fix him, mister. He’s only a little bampire and needs to grow up to be big and strong.”

Oh God. If he’d thought Buffy was manipulative as a teenager, she apparently had nothing on her genuine self as a little girl. If he could erase the heartbroken tears from her little eyes, he’d offer his soul to the very devil himself.

So, decision made, he told Buffy that while there was little he could do, Spike’s grandfather, Angel might be helpful. Leaving the girl to her bedside vigil, Giles called Angel Investigations from his room.

“Good morning, Angel. I apologize for the hour, but I was hoping to find you awake. We have an emergency that requires your expertise.” The Watcher held his breath. Angel hadn’t been too forthcoming with his life in the past two years and might not want to come back to Sunnydale, chancing a run-in with Buffy.

“I was just getting ready to go to bed, Giles. Had a long night fighting some Grishook demons.” Angel sighed. A call from Sunnydale at this hour of the morning was never a good thing. “What’s the problem?”

“Well, it’s about Spike…” the elder man began.

“Perfect, just perfect. The perfect ending to a perfectly miserable night. What did that idiot do now?”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Angel. Spike didn’t do anything. He’d been injured while out on a run with Buffy, and he’s been unconscious for the past seven hours or so.”

“And I’m supposed to care… why? Last time I saw Spike, he was responsible for several lengths of rebar being shoved through my body. Come to think of it… why do you care? And what’s he doing with Buffy, anyway?” The suspicion was rolling through the phone wire in waves.

“Why can’t anything be easy?” Giles groaned, shaking his head. “You remember that Spike can’t hurt humans, right? Well, we found out he can fight and kill demons. He patrols with Buffy on a regular basis, and I find I’d rather not lose someone invested in protecting my Slayer’s back for whatever reasons.”

“Buffy’s a big girl, Giles. She can handle patrolling all on her own. Spike will either come to on his own, or eventually dust. He’s no longer my problem.”

Giles was furious. “Listen here, you berk! Spike was affected by demon blood two days ago, as was Buffy. If you don’t care enough to help another of your own line, then perhaps you’ll want to make sure the same thing doesn’t happen to her.”

“Fine.” He said, tersely. “Let me shower, and I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

Buffy walked into the room, staring intently at Giles. “Are all the guys you know poopy-heads?”

“Spike’s um… grandfather can be notoriously difficult to deal with, but he’s the boy’s best chance of getting better.” He smiled, then – a little, wicked grin creased his face. “And yes, Angel is most assuredly a ‘poopy-head’.”

***

A knock on the door less than three hours later heralded Angel’s arrival. He stood stiffly at the door, covered by an old comforter, unsure as to his invitation into Giles’ home.

“Please come in, Angel.”

With the formality out of the way, Angel stepped over the threshold. “So, where is the pain in my ass?”

Giles grabbed the vampire by the front of his shirt, his eyes cold with fury. “Listen to me, you sanctimonious bastard.” His voice was low, and dangerous. “If there’s anyone in this world that I should have a reason to hate, it’s you. Need I remind you of the hours you spent delighting in my agony? Of the woman you took away from me? Get off your damned high horse and do something humane for a change. You’re supposed to be a champion of the helpless, and right now, I’d put Spike in that position.”

Releasing Angel’s shirt, the elder man wiped the spittle from his lips. “Upstairs, first door from the landing. And if you frighten Buffy, I swear I’ll have your dust.”

Turning swiftly, Angel went upstairs, scenting Buffy and Spike as he neared the guest room. The sight that greeted him was not what he expected.

Sitting on the bed, a little girl seemed to be reading to a sleeping little boy. Unable to reconcile his senses, Angel went back downstairs to confront Giles. “Who are those children?” he demanded, quietly. “And why do they smell like Buffy and Spike?”

“That’s the part I couldn’t explain to you over the phone. They had an encounter with a demon two days ago. Its demise splattered them both with it’s blood. Buffy told me Spike became disoriented before going to sleep, and awoke as a five year old vampire... with no memories other than age appropriate ones, like his name and birthdate. He didn’t remember her at all.”

“Do I even want to know why Buffy was aware of Spike’s condition before going to bed?”

“She simply extended him the courtesy of a shower and a place to stay. The blood was obviously caustic to him. Certainly you’ve been on the receiving end of her clemency before.”

Angel had to concede that point. “But… you make it sound like she wasn’t affected.”

“No, that honor was reserved for me. The first night of his transformation, Spike refused to let her leave. Actually went gamefaced from crying so hard. The only way he would even deign to close his eyes was if she were in the room.”

“And you found Buffy changed in the morning,” Angel concluded.

“Yes, and as expected, had no memory of Spike or any of her life past the age of five.” Giles shook his head, amazed at how absurd this all sounded. “Spike, on the other hand, had no problems recognizing Buffy. I’d have to assume he could tell by her scent, as did you. In the short course of the day, they’ve grown extraordinarily close. I must warn you, Angel. If you do anything to purposefully harm the boy, or withhold treatment, you might just find yourself on the wrong end of a stake, and I won’t hold the girl back.”

“I give you my word. I can always dust him when he’s back to his annoying self.” Angel muttered.

They walked up the stairs together, and entered the guestroom. Giles stroked the boy’s forehead, and then spoke quietly with Buffy for a few moments. Scooping her up into his arms, the Watcher attempted to leave the room, when the little girl reached out and grabbed a hold of the elder vampire’s shoulder.

“You a bampire, too?” When Angel nodded, Buffy said, “You take good care of my bampire, mister.” Her little chin quivered, and Angel was struck with just how familiar he was with the sight. “Please, help him wake him up.”

Angel melted at the sight of the small, pitiful face. In that moment he would have promised her anything.

Gently gathering the little vampire into his arms, Angel couldn’t help but be reminded of his infant son. Small, helpless – totally vulnerable to the world’s evil. He would have given up everything for the chance to raise Connor to this age.

The artist in him couldn’t help but seek out comparisons between the adult Spike and this immature version. He ran his large fingers over the high cheekbones and full lower lip he’d have recognized blindfolded. Unable to help himself, he ran his fingers through the boy’s hair, gently exploring every inch of his delicate skull, finding a pea-sized lump near the base.

Angel was puzzled. A head injury of this type shouldn’t incapacitate a vampire… of any size. He could see purplish shadows forming in the delicate skin underneath Spike’s eyes, and found it profoundly upsetting. Using both hands, he pressed a little harder into the skull, and felt… yes... felt a tingling in his fingertips. Continuing his exploration, the elder vampire felt several sharp points just underneath the skin.

Shit! Those Initiative bastards. Between the fall and the shrinkage, it had to be the damned chip firing that was keeping Spike comatose. It had to be removed.

Gently placing the boy face down on the bed, he removed a penknife from his pocket, and relocated the sharp points of the embedded object. He made several shallow incisions, feeling the bite of each one as if they were made in his own skin. Mercifully, the boy hadn’t fed recently, so the bleeding was minimal.

His stomach turned as he shifted back the little flap of tissue and hair, which was odd, considering he’d done far worse to Spike when he was fledged. Sitting there was a piece of clear plastic with silver bits of metal… sending out miniature sparks on a steady basis. The chip was free floating, and easily removed. Angel threw it to the floor and ground it under his heel. Only when it was dust, was he satisfied. Then, he replaced the small piece of skin on Spike’s scalp, applying pressure and hoping vampire healing would begin immediately, now that the blasphemous piece of electronic circuitry was removed.

Sure enough, within fifteen minutes, the wound had begun to heal. Still, there was neither sound nor movement from Spike, and Angel slowly became worried about the prospect of permanent brain damage. That chip had been firing directly into his brain for at least seven or eight hours, and who knew how long before that.

A slight brogue colored Angel’s softly spoken words. “T’is not right to wish it so, lad, but if ye never regain yer old self, I could do right by ye this time.”

Rubbing a bloody finger against Spike’s lips, he hoped for some sign, some movement – that the demon was undamaged on some basic level, at least. Several seconds after the limp little body tasted blood, the elder vampire was rewarded with a slight twitch… and then another.

A quick shift into gameface and Angel scored his wrist on one of his fangs, placing it against the little vampire’s mouth. Anxious moments later, Spike responded, dropping his own fangs and latching on.

He didn’t nurse for long, retracting his small teeth several minutes later. Then, just as a baby would, he settled into Angel’s embrace… with a soft, rumbling purr emanating from his chest.

Giles stood at the door, announcing his presence with a slight cough. He was once again holding Buffy, whose eyes widened at the sight of the blood on the bed.

“Any change, Angel?” The elder man’s voice was shaky and rough, trying to hold back his emotions.

“The good news is that he’s fed. The demon is still alive and functioning… we just don’t know on what level yet. The original contusion is almost gone.”

“And such a simple bump was enough to keep him unconscious for so long?”

Angel shook his head, pointing to the powdered mess of silicon he’d ground under his foot. “No. That was.”

“Oh dear Lord. The chip?” The Watcher in Giles reacted, and badly. “What will this mean when he regains full consciousness? Will he have any control over his demon as a child? If he returns to his adult age, will he revert to killing?”

“Giles… how long has it been since Spike’s been a serious threat to you? Even at the beginning, he could have worked his way around the chip to cause some serious damage if he’d had half a mind to.” Asking this of the man, Angel was forced to admit the truths to himself, as well. Spike was no longer the vicious demon Angelus had conditioned him to be, unless forced to defend himself or those he cared about.

“We’ve all been worried about that chip for so long… what would happen if it suddenly stopped working or if he managed to get it removed,” Giles reflected, softly. “I suppose we never acknowledged how much he’s changed.”

Buffy had had enough of being ignored. Pushing against Giles’ shoulder until he put her down, she ran to the bed, wanting to see for herself if Spike was better. “Look! He’s breathing again.” She placed her little hand on his chest, and sure enough it rose and fell, albeit at irregular intervals.

Content that all was right with her world now, she settled onto the bed, once more falling into the pattern of the previous night, anxiously awaiting her friend’s awakening.

It wasn’t until several hours later, that Spike finally awoke – with a vertebrae-cracking, all over body stretch – much like a kitten after a long nap in the summer sun. He opened his eyes, looked directly into another, hazel eye… no, that’s not right; he thought… and backed away a little bit.

Buffy’s face came into focus then, smiling as she turned and shouted “Be right back!” over her shoulder. She stood at the top of the stairs and screamed, “He’s awake, he’s awake.”

She ran right back to Spike’s bedside, followed immediately by Giles and Angel. The sense of relief on everyone’s face was so palpable, Spike was overwhelmed. He’d never had so many smiles directed his way in his life.

“Why are you all staring at me?” The little boy was confused, and the back of his head throbbed. “And why does my head hurt?”

Buffy looked worried. “Don’t you ‘member?” She crawled closer, to whisper in his ear. “You fell down from the monkeybars and hitted your head. You’ve been sleeping since then.” The little girl smiled then, bouncing on her knees. “And your grandpa fixed you up!”

“My…Grandfather is here?” Spike looked at the door, where Buffy was pointing her finger at Angel. “But he’s not… I don’t think…”

Frustrated almost beyond his endurance at his inability to recognize the man as his grandfather, Spike balled up his little fists and slammed them into the mattress, crying, “Why can’t I remember?”

That’s enough, William.” Angel walked over to the bed, sitting next to the boy. “Do you have control of your demon?”

“Wh-what demon?”

“Can you bring on the change? Your other face?”

The connection was made and Spike brightened. “Oh! You mean my mad face. With the sharp teeth?”

Angel nodded. “Just close your eyes and concentrate. It will come if you want it to.”

Spike closed his eyes tightly, a look of fierce determination on his face, but produced no bumpies or fangs.

Silently, Angel shooed Buffy off of the bed, indicating the girl should stand by Giles. Vamping out, he pricked one of his own fingers… a small drop of blood beading up on the tip… and held it under the little vampire’s nose. “Keep your eyes closed and tell me, boy. Tell me what you smell.”

Spike’s nostrils flared as soon as the blood scented the air, and he slipped immediately into gameface. The boy struggled to sit still, his whole body leaning towards Angel’s finger. Swallowing hard, he gathered himself enough to speak. “It-it smells delicious – sweet.” Eyes still closed, he cocked his head, obviously deep in thought. Opening his eyes, he saw what it was and said, baffled, “How can it be? It smells safe and warm. It smells like… home.”

“You are a vampire, William, as I am,” Angel said, wiping the bloody fingertip across the boy’s lips. “We’re different from humans. We can smell and taste feelings in blood.” As the elder vampire watched the boy lick his blood stained lips, he continued. “You will always feel safe with me, boy. We’re family. My blood will always mean home to you.”

Spike struggled to come to terms with all of this. He remembered that his father’s father had died before he was born, and he’d only seen his mum’s father once – when he was three years old. The man had been old, with a grey beard. “You’re not really my grandfather, are you?” he whispered, his human mask slipping back into place.

Following suit, Angel also dropped his gameface, his soft brown eyes staring directly into brilliant blue. “No, son. Not in the human sense. But in vampire families, I am your grandsire. I made the vampire that made you, and I taught you like you were my own.”

Buffy had hopped up on the bed, unnoticed. She flung her little arms around Angel’s neck, and kissed him on the cheek. “Then you made him very good, Mister Grandpa Angel.”

Startled by the little girl’s affectionate enthusiasm, Angel had to school his emotions. After all, he knew exactly what he’d made William into during his fledgling years. He almost - almost wished these two could stay young forever. Both innocent, with no history of horror, betrayal, abandonment, or death. All he could say was, “Thank you, Buffy.”

“I think it’s past time we get everyone out of the bedroom,” Giles said, anxious to get some help in the house so he could attempt preliminary research on the demon that had started the whole debacle in the first place. “Spike… can you walk or do you need your grandsire to carry you down for breakfast?”

The boy wriggled off the bed feet first, wincing slightly as his feet hit the floor. He slowly pushed away to stand on his own. Spike looked over his shoulder at Buffy, still kneeling on the bed… and ran quickly out of the room. He was sitting at the table by the time the rest of them made it downstairs.

Giles and Angel both were more than familiar with the little smirk they found gracing the boy’s lips.

***

Who knew Angel was a whiz in the kitchen? Once again there were fluffy omelets for all, as well as pancakes, bacon, and toast.

Half an hour later, Giles managed to beg and plead well enough that Tara agreed to come by and babysit again. At least this time, she knew what she was in for, and when she showed up at the door, she’d brought reinforcements… Anya.

“Okay, where are the little monkeys?” The ex-demon was looking forward to meeting the two little beasts who’d managed to unsettle Tara enough to ask for her help. All she’d told her were they were visiting family… a boy and a girl.

Giles firm tones were overheard from the diningroom area, followed shortly by two very contrite children, who recited in tandem: “We’re sorry for being so bad, Miss Tara. We’ll try and be better.”

“Oh my God!” Anya practically shrieked. “They’re so cute!” Her eyes narrowed for a moment, before she asked Tara: “Did Willow have anything to do with changing Buffy and Spike into kids?”

“Actually, not this time,” Giles said, walking into the livingroom with Angel. They took seats on the couch. “Today we begin the research into what demon’s blood was responsible for their transformation. Anya, would you be able to narrow down the field for us? Do you know which demons have the ability to transform beings into children through blood contact?”

The ex-demon frowned. “Well, there aren’t too many demons with that particular ability. Transformations of that sort take an awful lot of fluid absorption, probably resulting from the creature’s own messy death. I can’t think of any off hand, but I’ll be glad to lend you a hand with the books.” Anya brightened considerably. “It’s quite nice not to have an apocalypse looming over our heads for a change.”

Of course, Angel had to be the voice of gloom. “I’d suggest we solve this problem and get them turned back into their normal selves as soon as possible. The demon population will notice the lack of the Slayer patrolling after a few days.”

Giles’ grim expression corroborated the elder vampire’s statement. We’ll do what we can to patrol in Buffy’s absence. Usually Spike would pick up the slack, but obviously he’s not available at this time, either. That means Sunnydale’s safety will be in the hands of Xander, Willow, Anya, Tara and myself.”

“I’ll do a patrol this evening before I head back to Los Angeles,” Angel offered. “I just have too many responsibilities back home to stay and see this through, but I’d like to be kept informed, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, Angel. Perhaps you’d be willing to do a little research on this demon, yourself?” The Watcher was hopeful that there would be other resources to delve through, besides his own.

“I’ll spare whatever time I have,” Angel agreed. “And I’d like to have Spike feed once more before I leave. He wasn’t exactly at his best when he got out of bed, and…”

“And you feel like a mother hen looking after her chick,” Tara concluded, her whole face lit by her smile.

“Yeah, well… sue me. The little brat brought out the father in me.” Angel grinned unapologetically. “Besides, I’m sure little Buffy would have my hide if I didn’t do everything I could to keep Spike healthy.”

Anya sniffed, making a rather disgusted face. “You could do all of us a favor, big fella. Take the little guy into the bathroom and see to it that he gets familiar with a washcloth and soap. Between all that playing and the accident, he’s covered with dirt and blood. I’m sure the big bad vampire can handle a little bubble bath.”

As Angel climbed the stairs, hand in hand with Spike, Tara called up after him: “If you need anything, just give a yell and we’ll come rescue you.” The elder vampire heard her laughter long after he had turned on the water in the tub.

He spied a plastic bottle of bubble bath and added a few capfuls into the mostly hot running water, knowing Spike would enjoy soaking up the heat.

The boy stripped off his clothes quickly, and climbed into the tub, absolutely relishing the warmth. Angel rolled up his sleeves and knelt on the floor, preparing to shampoo Spike’s hair, as well as check on the incisions he had made, earlier.

Mid-lather, he heard a knock on the door. “Let me in, Mister Grandpa Angel. I wanna bath, too.”

“Sorry, Buffy… it’s boys only bath time. When Spike is finished, I’m sure Tara or Anya will be happy to give you a bath of your own.”

There were sounds of a scuffle, and then the door opened; a very naked little Slayer ran past Angel and climbed into the tub with a splash, much to Spike’s delight.

Angel was flustered. Here he was, a Champion of the Powers That Be, down on his knees, elbows deep in bubbles and water with two wet, squirmy naked children… both of whom he’d slept with once upon a time. Unlife just couldn’t get any weirder than this.

In fact, it was too much for him. Standing by the door he yelled downstairs: “I can’t take it. Buffy stripped off her clothes and jumped in the tub. I can’t handle two kids and the water and the bubbles and I surrender! I’m not a mother or a nanny. Someone help me, please!!”

Ten minutes later they were playing dive bomber in the tub; water splashing everywhere, and still nobody had come to help.

Getting rather desperate, the harried and very wet vampire bellowed for someone to come up and take over the supervisory and washing chores.

His received a very curt reply from Anya. “Angel, you’re such a wuss. I mean, you were the damned Scourge of Europe. You plundered and raped and ransacked around the countryside for more than a hundred and fifty years, and can't deal with a simple thing like giving a couple of five year olds a bubble bath? You should be ashamed to call yourself a demon.”

Tara’s response was far more succinct. “Deal with it, Angel.”

So much for help and commiseration from the female quarter.

Angel walked back into the bathroom, staring at the water on the floor. He wasn’t going to bother cleaning this up until they were out of the tub. It would only happen again.

Running fresh water into the tub, the elder vampire used the sprayer attachment to hose the bubbles off the children and out of the tub, refilling it with clean, warm water. Buffy settled back down in the tub, but was staring at Spike, who had remained standing.

He didn’t panic until he followed her line of vision. She was staring at… oh no. No, no, no, no. This was so not going to happen while he was in the room.

“Spike, what’s that?” Buffy asked, pointing at his genitals.

Too late.

Spike grabbed his penis, looking at it for a moment. “This?”

The little girl nodded.

“It’s my willy,” he said, wiggling it about.

Buffy stood up, looking at her groin. She pouted. “Mister Grandpa Angel, how come I don’t have a willy?”

Angel opened his mouth as if to speak, shut it again, and walked out of the bathroom.

The little girl turned to Spike, laughing. “I think I broke your grandpa. I know girls have baginas – they don’t have willies” Buffy tilted her head, looking at Spike’s body. “Can I touch it?”

He stuck his little hips out, not seeing any problems with her request. “Can I touch yours?”

At that moment, Tara burst into the bathroom, followed by Anya, waving a stern finger at the two children.

“Oh no you don’t, you two. No playing doctor on my watch.” Anya’s tone wasn’t angry, just matter-of-fact. “Buffy... you know you don't have a penis. Girls are made all neat and tidy with everything on the inside. Boys are made with everything on the outside. That’s just the way it is. And now that you’ve seen it, it’s time to dry off and get dressed.”

One child to a caretaker and they were dried and dressed quickly, and sent downstairs in search of a cowering Angel.

“So, did you sense any difference in Spike without the chip?” Anya was curt and to the point, as always.”

Tara shook her head. “No difference, whatsoever. He seems to be a happy and well adjusted little boy with a touch of vampirism. It’s rather amazing how human he is… even given what we know of him as an adult.”

“You know, they act oddly alike – sort of like the kids in one of Xander’s movies. The Children of the Damned. Then again, most children have a hive mind mentality. What one does, the other follows.”

“It’s like they know each other so well, even after so little time together. Just a single day.” Tara looked thoughtfully at the ex-demon. “Do you think it’s possible…?”

“That they’re meant to be together in some way?” Anya asked. “It’s possible. They compliment each other very nicely.”

“Well, it’s something worth keeping an eye on, anyway.” Tara smiled, her imagination running wild for a moment. “Anyway, let’s get downstairs, and see if they’ve managed to catch up with Angel.”

The children in question were sitting calmly and happily at the table, snacking on chocolate chip cookies, along with a glass of cold milk to wash them down.

Both women snickered at the sight of the great Angelus cowering in the kitchen, refusing to face the mini-mites.

Giles walked into the livingroom carrying an old leather-bound volume. “Angel, would you stop acting like a craven coward, and join me? I do believe I’ve found the demon in question in the Mordock Grimoire. I think that they encountered a Fram’hir demon.”

“A Fram’hir?” Angel was incredulous. “They’re almost never found this far south. They’re built like abominable snowmen – thick, shaggy pelts and razor sharp claws. They’re also the biggest chickens the demon world has ever seen.” The vampire shook his head. “No way. If a Fram’hir came across the Slayer or a vampire, much less the two together, it would have turned tail and run in the opposite direction.”

Giles’ spine stiffened at the thought of his Slayer being called a liar. “Now see here, Angel. This is almost word for word what Buffy described. Also, in addition to the itching and burning – the side effects of the blood.” He shoved the book under Angel’s nose, pointing at the text. “It says that excessive exposure to Fram’hir blood regresses it’s opponents to an earlier stage of life… so that they can be disposed of more easily. Transformation rates would vary… dependant on species.”

Angel held up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m not calling Buffy a liar, Giles. I’m just saying it would be unusual for Fram’hirs to be spotted in this state. They must have taken a sentry by surprise, or there was a pregnant female nearby. Fram’hirs tend to roam in packs, to avoid one on one confrontations.”

“The problem is,” Giles continued, “there is no known cure for the children’s condition except for time. It does eventually wear off, and the victims return to their normal age, if they haven’t been eaten or killed.”

The elder vampire sighed. “If only we knew how long Buffy’ll be out of action. I worry about Sunnydale’s demon population getting a hint that the town is unprotected. It’ll be next to impossible for you to keep up patrol with just the Scoobies.”

“I’ll have you know, Angel, that we are quite aware of what it takes to defend Sunnydale in the absence of the Slayer. We did survive for months after Buffy… well, when she…”

“Died. Yes, I’ve heard stories. I’ve also found out that Spike fought at your side for those same months, and he’s not available this time. In fact, you have them as an added distraction to protect. Maybe I should take them back to Los Angeles with me. I’ve got enough staff to…”

“Absolutely not! I will not let those children out of my sight. I’m still Buffy’s Watcher, and will follow her condition from beginning to end.”

Angel threw his hands in the air. “Damn, Giles! Just a couple of hours and we’ve both turned into Papa Bears.” He gave an amused snort. “Can you imagine bottling Fram’hir blood? We’d be able to wipe out demons, wholesale.”

Spike and Buffy ran into the livingroom and hopped onto the couch, one on each side of Angel.

“Sorry, Giles,” Tara called out. “We just couldn’t keep them in the kitchen any longer.”

Anya picked up the rest of the conversation. “Besides, Tara has classes and I need to get to the Magic Box. Xander and Willow will be here soon to relieve you.” She smiled, waving in their general direction. “Bye for now, you little monkeys. Be good… or don’t get caught.”

“She’s something, isn’t she?” Angel mused.

“You seem to have quite a talent for understatement,” Giles said, rubbing his hands together. “So, what do you children wish to do now?”

“We’re tired,” they chorused. “Tell us a story?”

“Giles, that’s a great idea. I’d like to try and get Spike to feed, and since we’re all together, would you be able to read them to sleep?”

The elder man didn’t know whether to take offence or be amused. “I beg your pardon. I’ll have you know I can read a rousing story with the best of them.”

“Oh c’mon, Rupert. Look at ‘em. They’re falling asleep as they sit. You could read The Charge of the Light Brigade in full regalia and they’d pass out.”

Angel picked up Spike, settling him into his broad lap. “Listen to me, little man. I’ve got to go back to my home soon, but I want to do something for you before I leave. When you were hurt, I shared some of my blood with you. Family blood – Sire’s or elder’s blood – makes you very strong. You remember how it smelled upstairs when I pricked my finger for you?”

The little boy nodded.

“Well, I want you to take it directly from my wrist this time. Get comfortable, lie back, and change to your true face.”

Spike had no trouble bringing out his gameface this time, but he looked upset. “Do I look ugly like this?”

Oh brother, the kid could pout with a mouth full of fangs.

Buffy spoke up. “You don’t look ugly, Spike. You just look like you.” She reached over, stroking her fingers gently over his ridges, as she had the first time. “I like your blue eyes better, but the yellow is nice, too. I think you’re a pretty bampire.”

“M’not pretty. M’a boy.” He was, however, smiling – belaying his petulant tone.

Angel patted his other leg, making room for Buffy climb on and get comfortable, too. He realized the picture he was making, and was sure Giles would take full advantage with a camera sitting on the nearby table. Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Sure enough…

“Angel, I think you have your company’s Christmas card photo… if we were able to share this with your clientele. I believe it’ll be something to be treasured. Personally, I don’t care if you mind… I’m finishing off this roll of film.”

Once Giles was done, with the vampires both in and out of gameface, Angel resettled Spike and presented his wrist to the boy. With very little prompting, Spike sank his fangs into the proffered wrist and began to suckle, slowly… obviously deriving comfort as well as sustenance.

In a soft voice, Giles began to read: “Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, “and what is the use of a book,” thought Alice “without pictures or conversation?”

Before long, everyone seemed to have nodded off. Giles’ glasses had slipped down to the edge of his nose, the book held laxly in his hands while his head rested against the back of his chair; Spike’s fangs were still embedded in his grandsire’s wrist, as he occasionally drew small swallows of blood, and Buffy’s head was resting on Angel’s chest, a thin line of drool dribbling from the corner of her open mouth.

As they lay there peacefully, Xander swept into the room, followed by Willow. They stopped dead in their tracks, mesmerized by the scene that unfolded before them.

“Well, looks like little Willie Wanna Bite’s still with us. Nobody bothered to call and let us know.”

Angel blinked as he woke up, then, irritated, hissed. “Keep it down, you moron. Everyone’s exhausted and I don’t need you waking them.”

Willow was charmed by the sight of the children seated on Angel’s lap. “It’s a shame there isn’t a camera around when you need one. They’re adorable!”

“Oh, good Godfrey Cambridge!” Xander was positively grossed out by the sight of Angel feeding Spike. “It’s the undead Madonna and Children. Couldn’t you put a blanket over yourself like any respectful nursing mother? He looks like a giant leech!”

“At least blood is a natural food for vampires. And familial blood has the best healing properties. I’ve seen you devour an entire box of Twinkies,” Angel scoffed. “There’s no good reason you can give me for eating something that unnatural.” The vampire eased Buffy off of his lap and onto the couch, unnerved at the tone the conversation was taking.

“Since when do you care about what happens to Spike?” Xander angrily countered. “Every time you’ve met you’re all ‘He’s evil and needs to be dusted.’ You should be happy to be able to take him out while you’ve got all the advantages instead of nursing him like a first time mother.”

That was the last straw. Something inside Angel snapped at the younger man’s tone of voice and attitude. Gently disengaging Spike’s fangs from his wrist without waking the little vampire, Angel pulled a stake out of his pocket and placed it on the boy’s chest – over his heart.

“Xander!” Willow squeaked. “Stop him!”

“No, Willow. I’m not going to do a damned thing. This is Xander’s call.” Angel turned to face the younger man. “You’re so keen on killing Spike? He’s about one-fifth your body weight and sleeping – and I’m holding the stake in the perfect position. I guarantee you it will never be easier for you to kill him. C’mon, boy… show your balls and put your money where your mouth is. Dust him.”

With glazed eyes and a sneer on his lips, the man stood in front of Angel and raised his arms – preparing to strike.

This time, Willow screamed. “Oh God, Xander. Don’t hurt him. He’s just a little boy!” and pushed her friend away from the vampires.

Giles was awake by then, ready to restrain the younger man if it became necessary, or gather Buffy out of harm’s way should she awaken.

Xander sat down heavily on the floor, not really sure why he was prepared to cold bloodedly dust the sleeping vampire child he’d worried over the day before.

Angel settled the boy next to Buffy on the couch; both children were awake – wide-eyed and afraid – sensing the tension in the adults around them.

“Just so you know, Xander – I would have stopped you from staking Spike. I’d have broken your wrists before you got anywhere near my boy’s chest. Nobody, and I mean nobody, takes out my family, but me.”

The young man shook his head, unable to wrap his brain around the act he had been fully prepared to carry out just moments before. It was Angel – it had to be. Something about being in the same room as Deadboy always set him off. He rose without a look or word to anyone and headed for the door.

“Xander, please don’t go.” Willow reached out for her friend, not wanting him to leave in such a state of turmoil. “I’m sure once…”

“I’ve gotta get out of here, Will. I can’t think straight. I can’t…” He slammed out of the room without a backwards glance.

Giles sank to his knees in front of the children, who had begun to cry. “There, there. It’s all right now,” he soothed, as he hugged them tightly to his chest. “Angel and Xander have had their differences, but things will settle between them. No worries. No need to cry. Let’s sit back on the sofa and I’ll continue reading Alice in Wonderland for you.”

When Angel was satisfied that both Spike and Buffy would remain calm, he walked the shaken witch into the kitchen.

“I don’t know what happens when you two are in the same room, Angel… he’s not usually like this with anyone else… well, except for Spike, when he’s grownup, that is… and they fight all the time but it never seems to be serious anymore. I mean, nobody pays it any attention because, well, Spike can’t hurt anyone, and…”

“Willow, please… get a grip on yourself.” The last thing Angel felt like dealing with was an hysterical witch. “You had better keep an eye on that boy. Who knows how badly he’s going to react once he finds out that Spike’s chip is gone?”

The redhead’s eyes opened wide with shock. “What do you mean Spike’s chip is gone?”

“What did you think was keeping Spike unconscious? Child or not, he’s still a vampire. A fall like he took wasn’t enough to keep him comatose. It was the damned chip. Between his turning into a small child and the fall, the chip was damaged and emitted a constant stream of electricity into his brain. I could feel it vibrating through his skull.” Angel shuddered at the memory. “Eventually, it would have fried his brain and he would have dusted.”

“But how could you… why did you… without even…?” Willow was almost beside herself with indignation.

“What did you expect me to do, Willow? Ask a couple of twenty-something kids for permission to save the unlife of my own grandchilde? Someone I’ve known for over a hundred and twenty years?”

Willow backed away slightly. The sneer on the vampire’s face was too reminiscent of Angelus for comfort. “It’s just that he’s unrestrained. He hates us all,” she blustered. “and… and… he’s not going to have any self-control as a little kid. He’ll be able to hurt Buffy, at least. And oh boy, when he gets back to normal, he’ll…”

“Tell me something, Willow. When you walked into the house, what did you see? Body parts littering the house? Blood all over the place?”

“N-no,” she stuttered. “Nothing like that and you know it.”

“I removed that chip last night. He woke up this morning, had breakfast with Buffy at the table – same as yesterday. The worst thing that happened today was Buffy sneaking into his bubble bath and the two of them freaked me out by playing a game of ‘Who Has the Willy?’ It wasn’t pretty, let me tell you.”

“But… but… what happens when he’s back to being big and scary again?”

The vampire grinned, knowing how his grandchilde would crow and preen over that description. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. I know you’re worried, and yes, you probably have some reason to,” Angel mused, a wicked smile playing across his lips. “Though I suppose it’s a little late to think about how well you’ve all treated Spike over the past few years.”

“If that was meant to be reassuring, Angel… you’re doing a lousy job of things.” Willow gulped, images of Spike being chained in Giles’ bathtub and being kept hungry mixing with everyone with their throats ripped open and Spike with a blood mustache running through her head.

Willow shuddered, realizing there was no way she could stay and watch over the kids with what she just learned. Giles would just have to forgive her. “Well, I’ve gotta go now, Angel. I-I just realized I have some studying I need to do, and won’t be able to babysit right now. I’m sorry. I’ll call later. Bye.”

Waving a hasty goodbye to everyone in the livingroom, Willow left as quickly as possible, leaving Angel to explain her absence.

In spite of Angel’s reassurances, or perhaps because of them, Willow worried. No way could she keep the de-chipping from Xander, or the rest of the gang. It was up to her to try and protect them as best she could. Maybe just a little spell… something to restrain the boy if he got violent.

Tara would have to understand it was for everyone’s own good.

What to do, what to do? Thoughts of a de-chipped Spike had been a Scooby nightmare for the past two years, and now that it had become a reality, Willow was freaking out.

Five year old Spike might be adorable, and Willow wasn’t about to out and out stake him like Xander almost had earlier, but five year old un-chipped Spike was dangerous. What if he got upset because he didn’t get something he wanted? Would he suddenly attack Giles for serving something he didn’t like for breakfast? Would he go after Buffy if she decided to get pushy and bossy?

The walk home to Revello Drive strengthened her resolve. A ‘Do No Harm’ spell. Surely one of her spellbooks had a simple spell she could cast without Tara or anyone else finding out. If Spike were as harmless as Angel thought, nobody ever had to know she’d done anything because the spell wouldn’t be forced to kick in.

Willow was grateful that Tara had a late study group. If she was lucky, all the ingredients she needed for the spell would be in the house, and it would be all done by the time her girl came home. She’d promised Tara that she wouldn’t to do any magicks for a week, and felt badly about trying to sneak this in… but surely everyone would understand once she explained about Spike’s chip being gone. Even if he wasn’t scary as a little boy… he could return to normal at any moment and then where would they all be?

There was a message blinking on the answering machine:

“Hey Willow. Hoping you’ll hear me out and then erase this before anyone else has to listen. Sorry for losing it at Giles’ before. I might hate Spike, but even I can’t kill a sleeping kid when I’m rational. I don’t know why I let Deadboy push my buttons like that. Hopefully he didn’t give you too hard a time after I left.

I’ll stop by and see you later this evening. Maybe we can have a movie and popcorn night. I’m not in the mood to listen to Anya gush about how cute little Spike and Buffy are and how maybe we’ll have four of our own kids one day. I just need to chill with my bestest bud. See you later.”

Hoo boy. Someone else without a definite arrival time. Better get started with the research now.

Half an hour and several spellbooks later, the Malthian Book of Wards and Protection Spells yielded what she was looking for. With a little tweaking of the original wording, and the substitution of a personal item for several strands of hair, she was set to go.

With sacred sand, she described a pentacle on the floor, setting up candles at each of the five points. Thank the goddess she had thought to check the house for an article of Spike’s clothing. The very idea of going back to Giles’ house for any reason after her argument and speedy exit was too unsettling.

Willow folded Spike’s black shirt and placed it in the center of the pentagram, checking her watch as she lit the candles. Anxious to get this done and cleared up before anyone showed up, she still paused momentarily before actually chanting the spell, wondering if there was a difference using big Spike’s clothing for a spell on little Spike… but shrugged off her concern as this being the lesser of two evils. Protection for her friends.

In his presence – by his hand
Let no harm befall those near
Should he strike – touch more than token
Let the contact point be broken.

As she completed the chant, the temperature in the room dropped at least twenty degrees and a stiff breeze arose, blowing out the candles’ flames.

Willow quickly gathered the candles and the books, locking them away in her supplies trunk. A quick once over with the vacuum and a spray of air freshener and nobody would be the wiser.
.
Good thing, too. Right on cue, no sooner had she put the vacuum cleaner into the closet than the front door opened. “It’s me, Will, I’ll be in the livingroom waitin’ on ya. No hurries on my account.”

He won’t know, he can’t tell… gotta calm down. Willow’s heart was racing a mile a minute as she went downstairs to greet her friend.


“H-hey, Xan!” she chirped, overly bright and chipper. “You look… calmer. Better than when you stormed out of Giles’ place, anyway. What have you been doing with yourself?”

“Not much of anything, Wills. I was pretty disgusted with myself when I left.” Xander looked rather nauseous at the recollection. “I would have done it, you know. Right then and there, I would have pounded that stake right through Spike and into Angel’s leg… just to hurt Angel.”

She took a deep breath. It wasn’t going to be easy to break the news about Spike now that her friend was calm. “Look, Xander… there’s a problem you need to know about.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know my temper is a problem. I am so very aware of how much of a problem it is.”

“No, no, well yeah. Temper, problem, you.” Willow was flustered, but determined. “I mean another problem with Spike. Angel removed his chip last night. It was damaged in the fall, and was firing all the time. The chip was keeping him unconscious and would have killed him eventually.”

No reaction.

“Xan-Xander?”

He shook his head slowly back and forth, eyes closed, lips firmly pressed together. “I should have killed him. He was handed to me on a silver platter, and I should have killed him. Now, any damage that’s done will be on my hands.”

“It’s not your fault. I was screaming at you not to hurt him.” Willow wrung her hands frantically, panicking over her friend’s next move. “And besides, he-he seemed so playful and shy and sweet when we watched him yesterday before the accident.”

“Damn it, Will – he’s a fucking bloodsucker! When did we change our shingle from ‘kill’ to ‘make exceptions’?” Frustration poured off the man in waves as he paced around the room. “This grey area crap is gonna get one of us killed some day. Hell, I ended up dusting Jesse without giving him a moment’s chance. Why do Angel and Spike deserve all this consideration?”

“You know Angel has a soul. I mean, I’m personally responsible for him being all soul having this time. And he fights on our side in Los Angeles with Wesley and Cordelia and some other people.”

“Okay, even though I don’t buy the whole vampire with a soul is a good thing… thing, at least he’s unique,” Xander grudgingly admitted. “But what about Spike… and I don’t mean when he’s a cutie-pie five year old. He’s a soulless vampire on an electronic leash… or at least he was. Now, thanks to Deadboy, when he’s back to normal, he’s a killing machine again.:

At least she wasn’t the only one to be worried about that. “We don’t know exactly how he’ll behave. I mean for more than two years, he’s been helping – even Buffy trusts him… and even Joyce liked him. Maybe he’s really changed.”

“And just maybe we’ll all wake up dead.” Xander’s agitation was rising by the second. “God damn it all. Sometimes I wish we’d never met Buffy. Then we wouldn’t have to worry about good vampires and bad vampires and Watchers and Slayers and resurrections and all this crap. It’s too much, Will. Just too damned much.”

“What’s too damned much?” Willow and Xander were startled into silence. They’d been so engrossed in their discussion, neither one had heard Tara walk in.

“Okay, you two look positively spooked.” Tara gratefully placed her books down on the desk, tired from an extraordinarily long day. “Why don’t I go upstairs and get ready for bed while you two finish whatever it is you were worrying about.”

Willow hoped that Tara wouldn’t pick up on her nervousness as she watched her girlfriend climb the stairs to their room. With any luck, she would be too tired to notice anything out of the ordinary. “I-I’ll be up in a few minutes, sweetie.”

She had luck, all right… all bad. Just as the redhead turned to tell Xander that perhaps this wouldn’t be the best time for a movie night after all, Tara came thundering down the stairs.

Tara’s eyes were uncharacteristically cold as she confronted Willow. “What did you do?”

Oh boy. So much for being too tired. Think, Willow, think. “Um… I vacuumed our room ‘cause the dust bunnies were starting to attack?”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t feel it, or smell it? The stink of magicks fills the room, Willow. You promised me you could go a week without it. One single week and it’s only been one day,” Tara cried. “What was so important to you that you broke your word?”

“Oh Goddess, baby. It was just a little thing – for everyone’s protection. I promise. Xander and I found out that Angel removed Spike’s chip, and…”

“And you took it upon yourself to act without consulting anyone else!” Tara fumed.

Xander backed out of the way – not wanting to get between the two witches. He’d never seen Tara so pissed off, and she was truly frightening.

“I-I have to go, Willow. I don’t kn-know if I’ll b-be back tonight. I can’t be here another moment.” Tara grabbed her backpack and slammed the door behind her.

“Holy geeze.” Xander was almost at a loss for words. “What the hell happened here?”

Willow crumpled to the floor, sobbing as though her heart was breaking. “She hates me! She’ll never forgive me!” she wailed, as Xander gathered her into his embrace. “Oh, Xander… I tried to make things safe for us all, and she won’t forgive me.”

“Calm down, kiddo,” he soothed. “Maybe you’ll feel better if you tell me what this was all about. I can’t help you if I don’t know the facts.”

Willow nodded, and proceeded with the whole sordid tale.

***

Giles was exhausted. Looking after a pair of five year olds would have been tiring for anyone, but a pair of super-active, preternaturally strong youngsters was a bit too much for the man, especially without the distraction of Willow and Xander. He had been counting on them for relief. Instead, he almost got ashes.

Xander’s reaction wasn’t totally unexpected. He’d been the most vocal opponent of the vampires’ right to exist for years now.

Willow surprised him. Giles was sure she held a soft spot in her heart for Spike, especially since she stopped her best friend from dusting the sleeping child… neither of them knew about the chip being removed. Or did they?

A quick phone call to Angel confirmed the Watcher’s worst fears. Willow knew of the chip’s status before she ran out of the house. It was the very reason she ran out of the house. Considering his own first reaction to the chip being removed, Giles supposed it wasn’t unexpected, after all.

And as much as Giles loved Xander, the man could be a mite pig-headed when it came to the subject of Spike, and he was sure Willow had run to him with the news. Would he be able to protect the little vampire from Xander, and keep Buffy safe at the same time?

Just then, his thoughts were interrupted by the children’s roughhousing. Shouts of ‘you can’t catch me,’ ‘I’m gonna get you,’ and ‘I’m soo gonna thump you when I get my hands on you’ reverberated through the halls, accompanied by the pitter patter of clumping little feet.

“Spike! Buffy! Calm down.” Giles called out to them, in the vain hope of preventing an accident. “It’s all fun and games until somebody pokes an eye out.”

The sound of their giggles came floating down from the second floor, followed immediately by the loud crash of broken glass. Giles rushed upstairs, just in time to hear a sharp crack as Spike flew backwards, away from Buffy and onto the floor, howling in pain and holding his left wrist.

“Oh for crying out loud, Buffy!” Giles picked the stunned little girl up and put her on the bed, out of the way, before making his way to a crying Spike.

He dropped to his knees in front of the boy, reaching out to wipe the tears from his face. “It will be all right, William. I’m sure Buffy didn’t mean to hurt you. Sometimes she doesn’t know her own strength. That’s why I wanted you two to be more careful.”

“I din’t do it! I din’t do nothing!” Buffy cried, almost as upset as Spike was. “I don’t hurt my friends, Mister.”

Giles knew he had to be gentle with the little vampire. With no chip in place and in pain, he might lash out, and the older man had to be prepared for the possibility. “What hurts, son?”

Spike whimpered, holding his left arm just above the wrist. “My hand is all tingly, Mi-mister Giles. I can’t move my fingers.”

“It’s probably broken, William. I’m going to have to make sure the bones are in the right place to heal, and immobilize it with a splint. Do you understand what that means?” When the boy shook his head, Giles continued. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to be very brave. When I check your wrist, it’s going to hurt quite a bit.”

Buffy scampered off the bed and stood between Spike and Giles. “I din’t hurt him before, honest Mister.” The little girl waggled her finger in Giles’ face, her other hand on her hip. “I won’t let you hurt him, either.”

“I-it’s all right, dear. I won’t hurt him on purpose,” Giles soothed. “I’m just warning him that it will hurt to straighten the broken bones to help his wrist heal. Why don’t you go sit next to him whilst I get the first aid kit?”

Appeased that her banishment to the bed was over, Buffy sat down next to Spike, just close enough for him to rest his head on her shoulder.

When Giles reappeared with the splint and kit, Tara was with him. He’d already explained what had happened, and was most grateful for her way with the children.

“Buffy, do you want to tell me what happened to Spike’s wrist?” Tara wanted to hear it from the little girl, making sure not to be accusatory.

“I din’t do nothing. Spike an’ me was running and playing catch me, and I fell into the table and knocked the lamp over. It broked.” She looked Tara directly in the eyes, her own glistening with unshed tears. “Spike tried to push me out of the way so I din’t get cut on the pieces, and he fell backwards.”

“Now Buffy, don’t make things worse by lying,” Giles chided. “I was standing here and saw you push Spike, hard.”

“N-no, Sir. You didn’t.” Spike was trying very hard not to cry out from the pain, but he couldn’t let them think ill of his only friend. “Buffy’s telling the truth. I tried to push her away from the broken pieces, but I couldn’t touch her. I got close, then my hand snapped, and I was pushed backwards. Buffy never touched me.”

“Did you smell anything funny before you were pushed, sweetie?” Tara knew his answer before he spoke, but she needed confirmation.

Spike nodded. “I smelled it before, too. When that tree lady ran away before. Smelled like burnded toast.”

“Tree lady?” Tara was momentarily confused. “Oh! You mean Willow, right? The lady with the red hair that took you to the park?”

“Yes, Willow.” He sniffled as his tears finally fell.

Tara bit her lip. She was hesitant to use any kind of magic for healing, but he had to be in so much pain… “I’m going to say a few words – a spell,” she said softly. “It should take most of the pain away. Don’t be frightened. It’s healing magick.” A few quietly mouthed words and she could see the boy visibly relax. “It’s okay to work on his wrist now, Giles. The pain should be minimal now.”

The elder man sat down in front of the little vampire and gently took his injured hand into his own, much larger hands.

Seeing that Spike was about to grab for Buffy’s hand in support, Tara quickly restrained his other arm.

“I’m so sorry, Spike. It’s not that I don’t want you holding Buffy’s hand, but I think the magicks that pushed you away from her before would do the same thing if you tried to grab at her. Let her offer her hand, and I’m sure you’ll be able to take it.”

Sure enough, when the little girl extended her hand, Spike was able to grasp it, entwining his fingers gently with hers.

Giles worked quickly, carefully pressing down on the tiny wrist, making sure things felt smooth and aligned… applying soft and steady pressure to pop a little bone back into place. Throughout the procedure, Spike was relatively calm, occasionally taking a few shallow breaths as his wrist was splinted, to cope with the slight pain. Not once did he revert to gameface, which the Watcher found amazing.

“How does your wrist feel now, son?” Giles hoped the boy wasn’t in too much discomfort.

Looking at the gauze and metal wrapped tightly around his arm, Spike cocked his head, as if waiting for his arm to tell him how it felt. “I-it feels better not moving. My head still feels fuzzy.” He winced when he tried to flex his fingers and attempted to stand, but his legs wouldn’t cooperate.

Giles swiftly picked the boy up, gently depositing him on the bed – followed immediately by his Buffy shadow. “You two wait here. Tara and I will be right back with something to drink and snacks for you both.”

As they gathered mugs and bowls for juice, blood and vanilla ice cream, Giles couldn’t help but unleash the Watcher in him. “You have to tell me just what happened, Tara… how you knew Spike was injured. Did Willow tell you she’d hurt him on purpose?”

“N-no. She and Xander were yelling when I got home, and wouldn’t answer me when I asked what was going on.” She closed her eyes for a moment, recalling the betrayal and fear she felt in what used to be her sanctuary from the world. “When I g-got to our room, I could smell the remnants of Willow’s casting.”

Tara’s eyes welled with tears. “She promised me, Giles. No witchcraft for a week. She swore on our relationship and it didn’t even last one day. I c-can’t go back there. We’re finished.”

Giles gathered the emotionally overwrought woman into his arms, thinking about the amount of physical contact he’d had in the course of two days. Maybe he wasn’t faring as well as he thought, living the life of the confirmed bachelor.

“There, there, girl.” He patted her gently on the back, soothing her like one of the children upstairs. “You’re welcome to spend the night here. As much time as you need to make other arrangements.”

“Thank you. Just… thank you.” Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, Tara composed herself. “Let’s take this tray upstairs before they get into any more trouble.”

The bed was covered with a plastic tablecloth. It had seen far too much blood already and two children, blood and ice cream do not make for neatness.

Buffy sat across from Spike, drizzling warm blood over his bowl of ice cream. Because his dominant hand was incapacitated, she fed him the gloppy concoction spoonful by messy spoonful, being careful not to mix her own bowl with his.

Like a proud pair of doting parents, Giles and Tara watched the scene unfolding before them. Though well pleased, they had to admit this was the most surreal thing either of them had ever seen.

“Gods, Giles. I’ve never seen either one of them so happy. And while I always felt that Spike was a little different from other vampires,” Tara said quietly, “I never thought he would be such a sweet, unassuming little boy.”

“I had my own theories of William the Bloody being an incorrigible ruffian, made worse by becoming a vampire. Tara, this child is practically genteel. Although I suppose it makes sense. In Victorian England, children were brought up to be miniature adults; absolute mirrors of their parents. His manners are impeccable for a child his age – at least when he’s dealing with his elders.”

Giggles from the bed, Giles and Tara took one more look. Spike was opening his mouth like a baby bird, waiting for Buffy to shovel in spoonfuls of that god-awful mixture of blood and ice cream. Sometimes all of it made its way into his mouth. More giggles bubbled forth when it didn’t. Oh well, that’s what washcloths and soap were made for.

Leaving the children to their own devices, the adults made their way down the stairs to the couch. As they sat on opposite ends of the couch, Giles shook his head in amazement. He was going to have to keep a careful record of this little adventure. Hopefully Spike would be willing to talk with him once it was over. Perhaps if he offered the vampire an allotment of blood... he’d just have to hope Spike would cooperate.

“I can only imagine what his life… unlife must have been like when he was turned – what must have happened to him to turn him into a cold-blooded killer.” Tara looked visibly upset, and Giles suspected she was remembering her struggles with her own family. “Imagine a sensitive young man with his only companions an insane seer and a pair of psychopathic bullies.”

Giles rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know how those blasted fools at the Council considered their vampiric profiles complete. With Angelus and Darla as ‘parents,’ the only way for William to survive was to become as bloodthirsty and dangerous as they were.”

“S-so all those times we thought Spike was faking being nice; when Xander would say he was just trying to get into Buffy’s… um… good graces; he really was trying to help?”

“He came to us after he’d first been chipped – when his hunger made him desperate – and asked for help over two years ago, not knowing if he’d receive a stake through the heart for his troubles. And I never looked past the demon I chained up in my tub.”

“Remember when Spike popped me in the nose? To prove I wasn’t a demon? He’d been a demon for over a hundred and twenty years and didn’t even hit me hard enough for my nose to bleed.”

Giles removed his glasses, cleaning them with the edges of his untucked shirt. “And the time Ethan turned me into a Fyarl… Spike helped, albeit after demanding cash.” His brow creased as he remembered what followed. “Blast… when he had that tracer from the Initiative lodged in his shoulder… I demanded that he repay me before removing it. I suppose I was being rather petty about it. After all, I wouldn’t ask for any reimbursement from anyone else in need of help.”

“So what we’re both saying in a roundabout way,” Tara paused, smiling, so softly and sweetly that the elder man couldn’t help but feel warmed, “is that we feel really bad about treating a vampire – this vampire – like the rest of his species, when he was trying to be more than just a demon.”

“That would be the crux of the matter, indeed,” Giles agreed. “The question becomes: what can we do about it now? It’s rather easy to treat little Spike well… just looking at him makes you want to protect him. What do we do when he’s back to… well, as normal as Spike ever was?”

Tara cocked her head. “I think the more important question is how can we protect him until he gets back to normal? I have to undo whatever spell it is that Willow’s cast, and we have to keep him away from Xander… or diffuse Xander’s anger.”

“Do you know which spell she cast?”

“N-no. I’ll have to talk to her… find out what she used and if she’d changed it in any way from the original. I don’t want to make it worse. There’s just too much magick surrounding Spike as it is.”

As he pondered their predicament, Giles came to a conclusion. They were going to have to face both Willow and Xander and have a mini-intervention to put everyone on the same page.

He nodded in decision. “Well, we can’t keep Spike all wrapped up in cotton batting on the closet shelf until he changes back. It could be weeks, or God forbid, permanent. We must get that spell reversed as quickly as possible. He certainly doesn’t need to be hurt anymore, the poor child.”

“Would you mind going over to the house and making sure they both show up for… erm… a Scooby meeting? Perhaps we can keep them both calm until the last possible moment.”

Tara agreed, and left, hoping to find both Willow and Xander at Buffy’s home.

Giles went upstairs, first stopping in the bathroom for a basin of warm soapy water and a couple of washcloths. When he walked into the guestroom he was very pleased.

Blood, juice and ice cream had been consumed and the empty bowls and mugs were arranged neatly on the tablecloth, as were two docile children. They were, however, a very sticky mess. Two faces and three hands were covered with the remains of their snack, and their clothing was a complete disaster. Giles did bless the fact that their WalMart shopping spree had yielded enough clothing for a quick change.

When the dishes and mugs were in the sink, and the children once again playing calmly in the bedroom, Giles closeted himself in his own room and, with not a little trepidation, dialed Angel’s number.

“Hello? Is that – yes. Sorry to have to disturb you, Angel… but we’ve had a little incident I need to discuss. It seems that Willow has taken into her head that Spike is a threat to everyone now that the chip is gone, and bespelled him. An anti-violence spell of some sort. Unfortunately, it’s not very discriminating in what constitutes violence, much like that blasted chip.”

Angel’s growling reverberated through the receiver, making Giles’ hand tingle. “What happened to the boy, Giles? Spit it out already.”

“During a spirited game of ‘destroy as many of Giles’ nice furnishings as possible,’ Buffy knocked over and shattered a lamp. Spike went to push her out of the way of the shards, and apparently the spell kicked in, keeping them separated and breaking his left wrist.” He hastened to add, “He’s fine, Angel. I set the bones and splinted the wrist. Tara is with me. She’s left Willow over this incident.”


Complete and utter silence.

“A-Angel, did you hear me? I said, Spike is fine. The boy’s in good spirits and Buffy is keeping him occupied.”

Giles could have sworn he heard the man mumble “Fucking humans.”

“I promise you, Angel… the children are both fine. They are safe. We are going to have an intervention of sorts this evening, to diffuse the Willow situation and hopefully get the spell removed. And to make sure that Xander doesn’t do anything rash, considering I am sure he now knows about the chip, as well.”

“Don’t let them down, Giles.” Was all the Watcher heard before the receiver slammed down on the other end.

***

Tara returned to the house around four in the afternoon, with a promise that Xander and Willow would arrive at seven. That left plenty of time for a little play with the kiddies and a good, solid dinner to fortify them all for the upcoming confrontation.

The door opened promptly at seven. “So, G-man… what’s the big ugly you need our help with?” Xander waltzed in, full of bravado… as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Willow followed silently, close behind.

“Would you have a seat, please?” Giles was determined to keep this meeting civil. He’d known these children so long they were as much family to him as Buffy. It didn’t mean he was blind to their shortcomings.

“I have to assume we all know about Spike’s condition, and that some of you are less than comfortable about it.”

Xander snorted. “Yeah, no use beating around the bush, is there? Will told me about demon boy being fanged again, and that she took steps to protect her friends. Usage of magic? Not so good… but I can’t fault her for wanting to keep everyone safe.”

“I-I was just worried, Giles. We don’t have a clue as to when he’ll revert to the Big Bad!” Willow had resorted to whining her justifications for her actions. “And I didn’t hurt him, honest. It was a simple spell… non-invasive. It just used a minor chant and an article of clothing. I wouldn’t hurt a little boy on purpose. You know I wouldn’t.”

There was a pounding on the door before anyone could respond to Willow’s declarations.

“Are you expecting anyone, Giles?” Tara asked, as she went to open the door.

Giles sighed. “Everyone we know is already here. Be careful to stay out of reach of the barrier in case it’s a vampire.”

It was – one who had complete access to the house. The Angel who showed up at Giles’ front door was not the same man that had left the day before. Stone faced, there was no hint of the compassionate grandpa cuddling his childe. This was an avenging angel, out for blood.

Tara quickly stepped away from the door, allowing the vampire entrance.

“Where are the children?” he growled, not bothering with civilities. Those in his good graces knew who they were, anyway.

Before anybody could answer, Buffy appeared at the top of the steps. “Mister Grandpa Angel! He said it was you! Come and see Spike’s broked arm!”

Willow’s eyes widened at the mention of the little vampire’s injury. Obviously he had tried to hurt somebody, and if that were the case, why was Buffy still allowed to be in his presence?

Angel, vamped out; yellow eyes flashing and fangs bared, reached the little girl preternaturally quickly and scooped her into his arms. “Buffy, this is very important. You go into your room, close the door, and no matter what you hear, make sure you and William stay inside. Do you understand?”

With no fear showing on her face at all, the little girl threw her arms around the vampire’s neck and whispered, “We’ll be good, Mister Grandpa Angel.”

He pressed a quick kiss to her temple, put her down and shooed her into the guestroom, waiting until the door clicked shut before heading towards the stairs.

The door opened barely a second later; a little head popping out to ask, “Can I go to the bathroom if I have to?”

“Only if you have to, little one. Now get back inside.” Angel turned and stalked down the stairs, not waiting for the click of the door this time.

By the time he reached the bottom step, he’d shaken off his gameface, once more glowering at everybody with angry brown eyes. He was immediately confronted by Giles.

“Come now, Angel. Was that really necessary? You could have scared the dear child to death.”

“Tell me, Giles… did Buffy look scared to you? She’s pretty swift on the uptake for a five year old, and I’m sure she can tell her friends from her enemies. Let me guess…” Angel turned swiftly and walked over to the couch, staring directly at Xander. “She didn’t take too kindly to you, did she?”

It gave Angel just a touch of satisfaction to see the wince on Xander’s face as his barb hit the mark. The kid had been bigoted and closed-minded since they first met. “Always knew Buffy had innate taste. You have to like a girl with good taste in men.”

“Yeah. That’s why she’s no longer going out with you,” the younger man mulishly retorted.

Angel ignored the remark, his attention already focused on the little redhead.

“Willow… I’m crushed.” Clutching his hand to his chest, the vampire wore a look of distress. “I thought we were friends. I mean, after our little discussion in the kitchen earlier, I was sure you understood how harmless the boy is. How could you set more magicks in place around a vampire already drenched in it? ”

Okay, she knew people – Tara – would disapprove. It’s why she had done the spell in secret, after all. But it was such a simple spell, Willow thought, trying to justify it to herself. Only meant to be defensive. Angel had no right to talk down to her like she were a little child. Hadn’t Giles’ dressing down been more than enough?

Her anger fueled a little false bravado. “Look, Angel. I’m sorry he got hurt. But if he hadn’t’ve tried to hurt someone, nothing would have happened.”

“You’re so sure you did the right thing,” Angel fumed. “Do you have any idea just how Spike’s wrist broke?”

“I-I’m sure he tried to hurt someone… it’s the only way the spell would have kicked in,” Willow insisted.

Tara’s anger had reached it’s limits. She strode past Angel and smacked her lover across the face. “I don’t believe you, Willow! You still don’t understand. There are things beyond your control. Things that should remain beyond your control.

“Spike did nothing wrong. In fact, he was trying to save Buffy from cutting herself on pieces of a broken lamp. Thanks to you,” she cried, “he couldn’t get close enough to push her out of the way. It was your spell that broke his wrist, Willow. You caused that little boy so much pain because you were afraid.”

Gently moving Tara aside, Angel continued his own verbal attack on the redhead. “You know, I’ve killed people for even looking at my family the wrong way. Of course, I didn’t have a soul then,” he sneered. “You should know I’ve got one now – you’re the one responsible for giving it to me the second time around. But I’m thinking it could stand a little tarnishing in defense of my boy. If I ever catch you pointing your magicks in a harmful way towards Spike again, I’ll personally take you out… redemption be damned.”

Xander was incensed at the vampire’s treatment of his best friend. “Who the fuck do you think you are, Deadboy? Willow was thinking of her friends, and the rest of the population… that’s all. When not-so-fangless is back to normal, he’ll be terrorizing the populace again, chowing down on necks like Ozzy Osbourne!”

“Who do I think I am, you snot-nosed little bastard? I am Angelus of Aurelius, Childe of Darla, Sire of Drusilla and Grandsire of William. Together Spike and I comprise half of the Scourge of Europe.” Angel folded his arms across his chest and smirked as his eyes flashed with flecks of gold. “Care to continue pissing me off, boy?”

“Angel!” Giles was worried this had gone too far, and the vampire would lose control. He worried that the children would bolt downstairs at any moment, and he was terrified that Willow, or even Tara would lose control and zap him. The macho pissing contest between the two men held the promise of major violence.

The vampire turned and winked, and Giles relaxed fractionally.

Turning to Xander, he hoped to calm him down. “Xander… I understand you’re more than uncomfortable about the situation with Spike. Frankly, so was I when Angel told me he’d removed the chip. Sadly, my reaction wasn’t much different from yours.

“But I’ve watched the boy for nearly three days straight, under all different circumstances. He’s never slipped into game face in anger, or in pain – and believe me, the boy was certainly suffering from the consequences of Willow’s spell. Accelerated vampire healing or not, a broken wrist is most painful.

“He’s sweet and thoughtful and a delight to be around… very much the antithesis of the grown up Spike we’ve all come to know. Perhaps if we tried treating him more humanely, his softer nature would reassert itself – now that he no longer has to fight us.”

“Yeah, and when things don’t go his way,” Xander insisted, “Buffy’ll have to kill another vampire she’s gotten familiar with. Thank god she’s not in love with this one. She really hasn’t been the same since Angelus made the scene with his after pillow talk.”

What is with these people and their freaking assumptions? Not that Angel hasn’t trod down that very path before, especially concerning Spike… but this is just too much for him to bear. Grabbing Xander by the scruff of the neck, he hauled the younger man up the stairs – deeply enjoying the fear pouring off the young man.

Angel opened the door to the guestroom, shoving Xander inside. "There's your vicious un-chipped killer."

Xander’s mouth fell agape at what he saw. On the bed, the children were sleeping face to face, cuddled up tight. Spike’s injured arm was thrown around Buffy’s waist. Before he could utter a single word, Angel dragged him back out of the room and closed the door.

“Why do you have to look for trouble, Harris?” Angel snapped as he closed the door quietly behind him and shoved the younger man towards the stairs. “For the next however long it is, Spike’s more than harmless. As for when he’s back to normal – like I told Willow the other day – we can cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“And until then, I’ll be sleeping with my cross, thank you,” Xander sniped. “For a long, long time,”

As the voices on the other side of the door faded as the men walked down the stairs, Spike and Buffy finally relaxed fully into sleep, secure in the knowledge that Angel would keep them safe.

Spike awoke first, to find himself warm and cozy, snuggled up against Buffy, except… were those breasts flattened against his chest? And wait a minute. Not all toasty warm. His backside was chilly.

“Mmmm, Spike. Stop wiggling.” Buffy wriggled in a bit closer and whined, eyes closed. “You’re gonna make me hafta go pee, and I’m all comfy.”

And then they both felt it. Something firm and large, wedged in-between their bellies.

Oh shit!

“If I keep my eyes closed, do you think it’ll all go away?” Buffy pleaded, unwilling to face the reality of the situation just yet.

“I think if I open my eyes it’s gonna get a whole lot worse. You grab the blanket and get off the bed, while I yank…”

“Spike!” she squeaked.

“Naughty, naughty, Slayer! While I yank the sheet off the bed to wind around my waist.”

“Oh, please… for the love of God, don’t move… it.” Buffy flushed hot and pink. Just give me a moment to… disentangle us.” She unwound her legs from his; sucking in her gut as she backed slowly off the bed, taking the blanket with her.

Buffy only heard the slither of the sheet being removed, as she kept her eyes tightly shut until she heard: “All safely wrapped away, pet. Gotta say you look fetching in a floral quilt.”

“You’re a-a… grownup,” she stammered, the color rising in her cheeks once more. “A very grown grownup.”

“An’ you’re more’n the handful I remember from the past couple days.” Spike flashed an appreciative grin in her direction. “Tell me we both had the daftest dream, Slayer.”

“Gii-iiles!”

Seconds later, Giles ran into the bedroom, glasses askew and hair sticking up in several different directions. “Buffy, what’s… oh dear Lord! This is marvelous! When did this happen?”

Seems we woke up this way.” Looking at the shreds of clothing hanging to her body, Buffy made a face. “Looks like we really outgrew our clothes, Dad.”

Spike flexed the fingers and wrist of his left hand. Seemed they were still a bit tender, but healing well. My little growth spurt seems to have made short work of the splint, Rupert. Little more blood should finish the healing, I think.”

“You can cut that God-awful sham of an accent, Spike,” Giles smirked. “You forget I’ve been listening to the dulcet tones of Master William for the past few days.”

“S’all right, mate. Been usin’ it for more’n a hundred and twenty years. S’just who I am now.”

“And I’m the bloody Queen,” the elder man muttered under his breath, causing Spike to turn sharply in his direction.

Clutching the comforter firmly around her body, Buffy looked more and more uncomfortable. “Um, clothing would be of the good, Giles.”

“Welcome back, you two.” Tara appeared at the door, smiling. “I heard you bellow from downstairs, sweetie, and thought you might be able to use your mom’s robe.”

“I suppose I can lend you a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt until we can get your clothing from Buffy’s home.” Giles ran a hand through his messy hair, attempting to make some order of things.

“Won’t do no good, Rupes. Stuff was disintegrating from the demon blood. At best it’ll be rags by now. P’raps someone’ll pay m’crypt a visit? At least it’s day, so it’s fairly safe. I’m sure you want me out of your hair already, an’ I can take a runner through the sewers once I’m dressed.”

In spite of the kindness he’d been shown as a little boy, Spike was very sure his welcome had just about run out. He wanted to be well clear of this place before he was tossed out like yesterday’s trash once more.

Buffy’s stomach clenched at the thought of Spike just… leaving. It wasn’t that she wanted him to stay, exactly, but the thought of distance between them made her uncomfortable. And that thought made her even more uncomfortable.

“I-I’ve got to… do…” she stammered, eyes darting around the room; anywhere but at Spike before she sank to the ground.

Spike was at her side before anyone else could make a move. “Buffy, pet… what’s wrong?” His hand reached out to cup her chin, tilting her head upwards to meet his eyes. “Are you in pain?”

Oh gods yes! She was in agony. The desire to reach out and bury herself in Spike’s embrace was all consuming, but how could she in front of Giles and Tara? As her grown self, they wouldn’t approve of the closeness between them, and she just couldn’t take rejection right now. She was definitely too in touch with her inner-child at the moment.

She pulled back from Spike, wincing as she saw the flash of hurt in his eyes. Unwilling to be the cause of even that slight amount of pain in his eyes, Buffy reached out, grabbing for his hand before he moved away. “I’m okay, Spike. Really.” Relief flowed through her at the touch of hands. It was cool, familiar and solid. “It’s just a bit overwhelming being big again.”

“I’m sure this is confusing for you both,” Giles offered. “It’s not an everyday occurrence to switch perspectives like you have. To remember them both must be unsettling, to say the least.”

Tara looked out over their odd little group, a warmth suffusing her soul. The group dynamic was a bit different from what it had been – a Slayer, a Vampire, a Watcher and a Witch – but for the first time, she felt like a real part of things.

For the past two years, she’d been on the periphery of the Scoobies; barely acknowledged and rarely contributing. This little group held the promise of more, and she liked it.

“Hey, guys. I know there’s a lot that needs to be done, but I’m starving. How about I make everyone pancakes for breakfast?”

“Ooooh, funny shapes?” the blonds chorused.

Giles stifled a snicker. “I think several people amongst us aren’t as grown up as they thought.”

Spike stiffened, unsure he had heard correctly. “Did you just call me a ‘person,’ Watcher?”

“There’s always a first time for everything, Spike. Would you prefer I revert to my standard form of address for you?”

“N-no, ‘course not. Just wanted to be sure m’hearing you right.” He knew he should leave it alone… just accept the kindness for the fluke it had to be, but being Spike he forged ahead. “Rupert, why the bloody hell haven’t you thrown me out? I can understand you wantin’ to take care of a little one, but I’m back to m’self.”

“I suppose you wouldn’t be willing to accept the fact that it’s daylight out and you’re practically starkers and make it easy on me, would you?”

“Not on a bet,” the vampire snorted. “You’ve tossed me out of the Magic Box to burn instead of lettin’ me use the sewer exit.”

“Very well. The past few days interacting with your younger self have proven quite enlightening, in regards to both you and I.” Giles pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the oncoming headache. “Let’s just say I wasn’t so pleased with some of the things I found out about myself. We’ll discuss it in further detail later, I promise you. Right now, I’d much prefer a calm and peaceful breakfast. Are you game?”

Looking at Buffy and Tara, Spike cocked his head, silently asking with a raised eyebrow if they were ready for breakfast. They nodded – Tara with a sweet smile, and Buffy, shyly. “Right, then.” With a bow of his head, and a flourish of his right hand, Spike motioned for the ladies to head downstairs, followed by Giles and last of all himself. Watching. Waiting.

***

Breakfast was… interesting. Tara’s pancakes were a big hit, with Spike taking great delight in rolling them up and dipping them in his mug of heated blood, to gross out the rest of the diners.

“Oh, don’t you get all prissy on me, Slayer.” Spike laughed as Buffy wrinkled her nose in disgust at his eating habits. You’re the one who fed me blood an’ ice cream, if I remember it right. I still think you should have had a taste of it, yourself.”

“If you were trying to make me go back to my regular eating patterns, you couldn’t have chosen a better image for me, you pig!” Buffy snorted, making a liar out of herself by reaching over to stake another couple of pancakes onto her plate.

“What?” All wide eyed and unassuming as she tucked into her food, she still retained the little girl air of innocence they’d become familiar with over the past few days.

Tara laughed out loud. Really, if she’d learned anything over the last few days, it was that happiness was a good look on her friend. “Buffy, I’m honored. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone eat with such enthusiasm. Well, except for Spike.”

“You do realize I’m gonna blame you when I get so fat I’m gonna have to wear muumuus to go slaying in.”

Spike managed a choked guffaw of his own at the image. “You go native on me, pet… and I promise to wear a loin cloth so’s we match. Heaven forbid I watch your back in anything less than GQ elegance.”

Buffy gulped, remembering the thin sheet wrapped around the vampire’s slender hips earlier in the morning. With Spike in a loin cloth, slaying vampires would be the last thing on her mind.

“I know what you’re thinking, Slayer.”

Her fork clattered to the floor as the color rose high and pink in her cheeks. “Y-you so do not, you pervert!”

Giles cleared his throat, causing Buffy to look up at three raised eyebrows on three very amused faces.

I am an adult…now. I can face this. “Okay, fine…laugh at the pervy little Slayer. Ha ha. Can we talk about actually patrolling now?” she pleaded, desperate to change the subject and focus of the conversation.

“H-has anyone been out on patrol in the past few days?” Tara took a deep breath in an effort to control her giggles.

Seeing that the meal was pretty much finished, Giles figured this was as good a time as any to bring the elder vampire into the mix. “Believe it or not, Angel has patrolled at least once that I know of since Spike’s transformation.”

The vampire’s entire demeanor changed at the mention of his grandsire. “Yeah… I seem to remember the git being here.”

“Knock it off, Spike… he fixed you,” Buffy grinned at the outrage on the vampire’s face. “Um, I mean… saved your unlife. Said something about familiar… familial blood being a cure-all.”

“Are you sure we’re in the right dimension, Slayer? I mean, I seem to remember him actually being nice to me.” Spike was perplexed at some of the images coming back to him. “He coddled. me. Held me like a nursing babe in his arms. I’d’ve bet m’crypt Hell would’ve froze over before His Broodyness would’ve deigned to help me.”

“It wasn’t just Angel, Spike. Do you remember your fall from the monkeybars?”

The vampire protested: “The Big Bad would never… oh balls, yeah… I remember. Was just the little wuss. Got a bit dizzy an’ fell.”

“You hit your head and were knocked out for hours.” Buffy reached out and gently rubbed the back of his neck. “Xander actually tried to stop your fall; just couldn’t reach you in time. He held you in his lap while Willow drove us back here. I was so scared you weren’t ever gonna wake up.”

“Knew you cared, pet.”

“I was a kid… what did I know?”

Spike pouted. “Knew who your friends were.”

Rubbing at his neck where he could still feel the warmth from her fingers, Spike felt the whole picture rapidly becoming unrecognizable. Three people who outright hated him had taken him in and cared for him. But it wasn’t really him, was it? Just some little nancy boy they could play dress up with.

“Well, if his bellowin’ yesterday was anything to go by, he’s back to stake first and – in his case – stake second if the first time don’t take.” Spike sighed, not wanting to upset Tara, but needing to know. “And what’s the deal with Red? I’ve never heard her so angry or defensive before.”

“H-how did you know?” Tara was shocked, knowing the children were upstairs behind the closed door during the intervention.

“Vampire, remember? Couldn’t make out all the words, but the tone came through loud an’ clear.” Spike made a noise deep in his throat, as if it hurt to get the words out. “Oddest sensation was feelin’ safe when the old Poof started his ruckus. Wish I knew what he was sayin’.”

“You know, calling Angel to let him know that you and Buffy are back to normal would be the right thing to do.” Tara looked at Spike with reproach. “He really was very concerned with your welfare… not to mention Buffy’s.”

Both Spike and Buffy looked like deer caught in the headlights at the thought of even speaking with Angel. It was one thing to be cared for as a small child, with no memories of a painful past, and yet another to have to thank him for being a decent family man after years of hate and distrust along with every other emotion.

Giles decided to put them out of their misery. “Before you both end up catatonic, I’ll be happy to make the call. I’ve already made more calls to him in the past four days than I have in all the time I’ve known him. What’s one more? And at least it’s good news.”

“Yeah, for us, at least. Dunno how thrilled Peaches is gonna be now that I’m back to my own charming self.”

Upon her return from the kitchen, Tara rested her hand on Spike’s shoulder. “You’re not used to being treated kindly, are you?”

Spike was quiet for a few moments, before he answered. “Only two people ever been genuinely kind to me. Mum, o’course, and Joyce.”

Unabashed shame coursed through them all as they hung their heads. Spike’s simple statement cut deep.

“Oh come on. Don’t you start feelin’ bad for me now.” Spike scoffed, “Some of the shite I put you all through earned me a fair amount of your hatred.”

“You know, after the last few days I don’t understand how anyone could’ve resisted you.” Buffy slowly wrapped her arms around the vampire’s waist, giving him all the opportunity in the world to back away if he were uncomfortable. “You really were the sweetest little boy,” she whispered, laying her head on his chest.

They hugged each other tightly, eyes closed. For a moment, they could pretend they were best friends again… seeking comfort in each other as they’d done for the past few days.

It didn’t last. Spike dropped a soft kiss on Buffy’s head, breathing in the scent of the woman who haunted him even in his dreams, and she stiffened in his arms, gently easing herself away from his embrace. “I-I don’t think that was the best idea I’ve ever had.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know the song, Slayer. Guess the truce is over and I’m back to evil, soulless thing again.” He sighed, shaking his head. “At least you didn’t break my nose. Do me a favor. Get me some clothes and I’ll be out of your…”

Buffy grew angry. She hadn’t meant to upset Spike, but there he was… taking everything the wrong way. Well, she would have to set things straight instead of letting them fester. At least she learned something from her five year old self.

“You’re a dope, Spike.”

“What did you call me?” The vampire was incredulous. She pushed him away and he was the dope?

“Are you deaf, too? I said you’re a dope,” she repeated. “Have I said anything to you since we woke up that was… was…” Buffy rolled her eyes, and owned up to her own shortcomings in regards to the man in front of her. “…even close to my normal attitude towards you?”

Head cocked and arms wrapped around his torso, Spike had to admit he’d been reacting defensively. “So you haven’t been a bitch. S’just what I’d been expecting, is all.”

Oh God, he’s pouting – and it was just as devastating on the full grown version as the pint sized. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. It’s just that I couldn’t think straight so close…” She stopped abruptly, realizing that she was heading into dangerous territory.

And sure enough, Spike caught the ball and ran with it. “Oh, pet. Are you tellin’ me what I think you’re tellin’ me?”

“I’m telling you I’m confused,” she insisted. “First, you’re five and don’t remember anyone but your mother. Then I’m five and don’t even remember you. You get hurt really bad twice and I’m all Florence Nightingale. Then it’s your grandpa… Angel to the rescue. And this morning we’re all grownup again and we remember everything.”

Buffy was so agitated, she began to cry. “I feel so many things, Spike – so many things I don’t know what I’m feeling. Is it too much to ask that you give me a little time to get used to being big again?”

Spike grinned, his bad attitude erased by the woman’s tears. “You call yourself big, luv? You’re about as big as a flea. An’ m’sorry for jumping to conclusions. Self control’s never been a strong point.”

“Bullshit!” Buffy fumed. “I saw you with a broken wrist, frightened and in pain as Giles poked, prodded, set and wrapped it back together and not once did you go into gameface. If I was hurting like you, I would have bitten Giles. Kids aren’t known for their restraint, Spike. If you could hold it all together under those circumstances, your self control is amazing.” Breathing hard, she pointed an accusing finger at the vampire.

“You know what’s wrong with you, Spike? You’ve been singing your own praises for so long, you believe your own reputation. Spike the hothead. Spike who never follows a plan. Spike the idiot who’ll leap into a crowd of demons with no regard for his own neck. You need to step back and see yourself for who you really are.”

“I’ve been tryin’ to show you who I really am for the past year, pet,” he said, softly. “It’s been you and yours won’t let me be more’n the demon.”

“Well, maybe it’s time things changed.” Buffy snorted, laughing while the tears continued to fall. “We sure as hell did – to childhood and back!”

Spike gently urged Buffy towards the livingroom. “Let’s go inside, before the Watcher thinks I’ve done away with you. Don’t know how, with this bloody chip in my head, but somehow he’ll manage to blame me for your bloody and gruesome death.”

Hand in hand, they left the kitchen.

That night, Buffy had a spring in her step that had been missing for years. Back in her own clothing: tight red leather pants, white mini-tank top and chunky heeled boots; she was ready for action. She had the fleeting urge to whack Spike on the shoulder and yell “Tag, you’re it!” before taking off on a tear through the cemetery.

“What’s got you all fleet-footed this evening, Slayer?” Spike pulled up in front of her, pleased to see the happy glow on her face. “For months you’ve been draggin’ your ass around, givin’ the Poof a run for his money in the brood sweepstakes.”

“You were so much nicer as a kid, Spike.” Buffy slowed her pace, kicking at stray rocks in her path. “What happened to us? I mean, things were just so much easier to deal with when we were little.”

“Hmmm… let’s see. Had no friends outside of my mum while growing up, or anyone to share my future with. Got killed in a stable by Dru, molded into a monster by Angelus and felled by you. That’s what happened to me.”

They walked in silence for a few minutes, oddly content with the knowledge that each other was near.

“You do know that’s a pathetic excuse for a life, don’t you?” Buffy asked, not entirely unkindly.

“Right pathetic, if you ask me.” Spike snorted, fully aware of how sad his life had been. “Then there’s you, pet. Dealt with a divorce when you were young, got Called, fell in love with the world’s only souled vampire, got killed and revived, shagged the soul outta said vampire, until he got resouled and you had to send him to hell to save the world, lost your mum, died again, got brought back and had to deal with me.”

“Oh God,” she groaned, “that’s pathetic too. Think there are any more of those shaggy demons around? Being five wasn’t so bad after all.”

Spike’s expression was soft and tender when he looked at her. “You were a very special little girl, Buffy. Very few li’l bits could’ve handled things like you did the past few days.” He reached out, smoothing a stray curl behind her ear. “An’ I want to thank you for bein’ so nice to me.”

“Being nice to you was easy. Hell, even Giles bent over backwards taking care of you.” Buffy snickered, before growing serious. “I’m just glad Tara did that reversal spell before we left the house. I can’t imagine what made Willow so afraid of a little boy that she had to spell you in secret.”

Now he knew things were wonky. Never before had she vocally admitted one of her friends had wronged him… especially the little witch. Spike was on shaky ground, and he trod carefully. “Listen, pet… I was still a vampire an’ Red was worried about you an’ her friends.”

Buffy stopped, hands on hips, the expression on her face screaming ‘are you an idiot?’ “We’ve known each other for five years, Spike… and the only time you ever got the upper hand in a fight was Parent’s Night, when Mom took you out of the fight with the business end of an axe. Everyone knows I’ve kicked your ass up and down Sunnydale for years, and suddenly Willow thinks you’re gonna take me out as a five year old?”

“You know, you really are an emasculating bitch,” he groused; no small amount of heat behind his words.

“What are you all pissy about? You’ve said so, yourself. Lots of times. It’s never bothered you before.”

“Slayer, I don’t mind the fact that you’re stronger than I am. What ticks me off, is the fact that you rub my face in it.” Spike sighed, resigned once again to the fact that for all her kind words lately, Buffy still didn’t consider his feelings. “I suppose I should consider myself lucky. Usually you play my humiliation to an audience.”

They were so engrossed in their arguing, neither heard the approaching footsteps.

“I see that you two are back to full size. Again, with the no calling and telling,” Xander sniped. “What’s up with that?”

And the bad luck track record continues.

“What are you doin’ here, Harris?” Pointing at Anya and Willow, he snorted. “I see you brought your bodyguards along for protection.”

Anya huffed: “Cut it out, Spike. The last we knew, you and Buffy were still kids, and someone had to patrol. Vamps and demons didn’t take holidays just because you and Buffy weren’t around.”

“Thanks for your help,” said Buffy, her demeanor a little stiff and formal. “But as you can see, things are back to normal and Spike and I have picked up the patrolling.”

“You’d think you’d be a little bit grateful that someone was patrolling while you were out of it, Buffy.” Willow was miffed at her seemingly abrupt dismissal.

Spike strode over to Willow’s side. “S’pose you want the Slayer to bow and scrape to you, eh Red?” He illustrated, making an exaggerated bow in front of the redhead. “Thank you for every little thing you do for her?”

“You know, nobody was asking you for your opinion, bleach boy,” Xander sneered. “In spite of everything that happened, you’re not one of us.”

“This is getting to be ridiculous.” Buffy had had enough. “Spike and I turned into five year olds, but you and Willow are acting younger than we ever did.”

She had thought to leave it alone, but was feeling just bitchy enough to unleash it at her supposed best friend. “After what you did to Spike, you have a lot of nerve demanding thanks from me.

“Yeah?” Xander leaned forward. “Why don’t you toddle off back to your crypt before I decide to dust you once and for all?”

Despite the silent clues Buffy was aiming his way, Spike had also had enough. He puffed out his chest and set himself in Xander’s path. “I’d like to see you try, mate.”

Grabbing a handful of Spike’s shirt, the younger man pulled him nose to nose, hatred pouring off him in waves. “You’re not cute anymore,” Xander spat as he shook the vampire like a rag doll. “You have no reason to be hanging around Buffy. In fact, you have no reason to be hanging around at all.”

“Um, Xander?” Anya interrupted the man’s tirade. “You do remember he can kill you now, right?”

Spike stiffened in Xander’s grasp, hoping demon girl would continue. This could be interesting.

A slight tremor in the hands that held Spike was the only indication that Anya’s words had been heard.

“Xander!” Anya yelled, more insistent this time. “We’re supposed to be getting married soon. If you get killed because Spike’s chip is gone before the wedding, I’m going to haunt you for all eternity.”

“Damnit, Anya! Don’t you ever know when to keep your mouth shut?” When Xander turned his full attention back to Spike, he came face to face with the demon’s furrowed brow and fangs, somehow all the more menacing because the vampire was grinning.

“So, Harris. Seems like you got more than you bargained for when you grabbed a handful of me.” Spike’s grin grew wider, though he still hung lax in Xander’s grasp. “Home field advantage’s finally shifted back in my favor”

Willow ‘eeped’ and prayed the fireball spell she’d been working on actually worked. “Incendiere,” she whispered, and a small, roiling ball of flames appeared above her extended hand. She took aim and launched it at Spike’s back, hoping it would be in time to save her friend from a certain fangy death.

What she hadn’t counted on was Buffy, who’d been watching both her and Xander with equal fervor. Just before the fireball would connect with the vampire’s vulnerable back, the blonde screamed “No!” and launched herself at the posturing males.

Buffy managed to get in between disaster and Spike, pushing him out of the way before the fireball deflected off of her arm, sending her to the ground with a scream of agony as it seared her flesh.

Tearing himself from Xander’s grasp as if it were an afterthought, Spike reached Buffy in seconds. Fangs bared, he growled a warning to stay away at her ‘friends’.

Buffy lay still and silent on the ground, bleeding slightly from a head wound where she’d made contact with a tombstone.

As Spike reached down to gather the fallen Slayer into his arms, he felt an unusual prickle against his skin, the sort of warning tingle he usually got when heavy magicks were being used. Figuring the residual energy came from the fireball, and mindful of Buffy’s injured arm, Spike settled her in the cradle of his arms and he prepared to stand, when suddenly she began to writhe.

Hoping that she had regained consciousness, the vampire paused in his tracks, only to notice her facial features had altered, softening – and her body weight had lessened. Within moments, she had reverted to her younger self. Her little shirt now covered her down to her knees, and her pants had fallen to the ground.

“Bloody hell, witch! What did you do?” Spike was livid, his anger boiling over into pure acid venom. “The girl’s just gotten over major mojo, and now you’ve zapped her right back into childhood.”

Xander had to get his two cents in. “She wasn’t aiming at her, you asshole. Why couldn’t you just have stayed still and let the nice little ball of fire dust you?”

At a loss for words, Willow kept quiet. What could she say? “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to hurt Buffy and change her back into a kid. I was trying to kill you. Maybe next time, I’ll aim better.”?”

Still mindful of Buffy’s injured arm, Spike turned and headed for Giles’ place. At least they could patch up her arm, and maybe Tara would know what to do. No matter what happened, Buffy needed a clean, safe place to stay, and his crypt didn’t qualify.

Anya whispered that she was going to take Willow home. Things would be too volatile if she were to stay around Spike in the mood he was in.

Turning in the direction the vampire had gone, Xander shouted out, “Hold up, Fang. You’re not going anywhere I can’t keep an eye on you.” He panted, trying to keep up with Spike’s pace. “No way I’m gonna let you make a nummy treat of the little Slayer.”

Spike sighed. “You’ll never learn, will you? I’d no sooner hurt Buffy than take a walk in the noonday sun. No matter what they say about mad dogs and Englishmen.”

At Xander’s befuddled glance, he shook his head and they continued in silence to Giles’ place.

Once again, Tara opened the door to an unexpected sight. “My goodness. What happened to Buffy?”

“Let me put her down in the upstairs bedroom. Want her to be somewhere she’s familiar with when she wakes up. If she still has the same memories from last time.” Spike’s unvoiced worries about who she’d remember were easily discernable.

Tara looked directly into Xander’s eyes. There was no need to ask who was responsible. She could smell the stamp of Willow’s magicks on the little girl, and the guilt in Xander’s face was an elegant confirmation.

“Tell me, Xander. Tell me before I go upstairs to clean and dress that little girl’s arm. Why did Willow burn her?”

“It wasn’t her fault,” the man blustered. “Spike was all vamped out and threatening me and she was trying to protect me by…”

“By killing Spike?” Tara was nauseated. “Even if I believed your explanation, that is so wrong. First she’s casting spells behind everyone’s back, and now she’s progressed to attempted murder? Where is she?”

“Anya walked her home to Revello Drive. She thought it would be too much to have her and Spike in the same room after this.”

“Smartest thing that bitch ever did was steer clear of me.” Still in gameface, Spike came down the stairs, knowing Buffy was safe in Giles’ caring hands. “Watcher needs your help, Glinda. Has to clean her arm, and doesn’t want her to be in pain.”

She looked between the two men, and Spike added, “He’s safe. Wouldn’t bite ‘im on a bet.” He brought back his human mask, just to appease the girl, who then walked upstairs to help out Giles.

The two men sat on opposite sides of the room, neither speaking to the other. Xander was wondering why he just couldn’t keep his big mouth shut in regards to Spike. He hated him; all vampires for that matter, but especially Spike. Probably because he saw far too much of him, and in no small part because he was related in some vampirey way to Angel, who held his uppermost spot of hatred.

Spike sat and worried about Buffy. Nothing new there. He worried about her arm, and he worried about the fact that she’d turned back into a little girl. Very selfishly, down in the smallest corner of his heart, he worried that she wouldn’t remember him. She’d never seen him as a grown man before, and he was still insecure enough to worry that the others wouldn’t let him near her now.

Several minutes later, he could hear her cries of pain, and she was calling for… him! Not stopping to remember she was asking for little Spike, he ran up the stairs before anyone could call down for him.

“Spike! Spike! I want my Spike!” she cried, holding her right arm close to her chest.

He sat down on the bed, at her feet. “I’m here, poppet. Spike’s here for you.”

The little girl looked up at him blankly, no note of recognition in her eyes, and she started to cry again. “My Spike is a little boy, an’-an’ a bampire. I don’t know you,” she pouted.

Ignoring Xander’s snickers from the door, and holding up a hand to keep Tara and Giles from taking over, Spike did his best to hold back his own tears.

“It’s okay, Buffy. It’s me, really. I-I grew up last night, but it’s still me. See?” A quick change to gameface had the little girl reaching out to touch his brow, as she’d done several times when he was small. “Just me, a big bampire… um, vampire, but always your Spike.”

Buffy raised both her hands to Spike’s face, mapping out his cheekbones, and moving his face from side to side. She tilted her little head, staring deep into his blue eyes, before wrapping her little arms around his neck. “Oh! It is you.” She buried her face into the crook of his neck, whimpering. “My arm hurts, Spike.”

“I know it does, sweeting. I’m so sorry it hurts.” Spike smoothed the hair off of Buffy’s forehead, gently stroking her pudgy babysoft cheeks. “I promise it’ll feel better, soon. M’sure Tara can do somethin’ for the pain. Make it hurt less.”

“Sure, Buffy. Just as soon as you’re ready for bed, I’ll give you something for your arm.” Tara turned to the vampire on the bed. “Spike, you’re gonna have to leave now. Time for Buffy to get into her pajamas.”

“No!” Buffy scrambled around Spike like a little monkey, climbing onto his shoulders. “My Spike stays. At least ‘till my boo boo arm is better.” With her left hand, she wove her fingers through his hair and made a fist.

“Looks like I’m not leavin’ if I want to keep m’hair, pet.” Spike smiled, happy to be wanted. “I do have a suggestion for her bedclothes. Since we don’t know how long she’s gonna remain little, and from first-hand recent experience in outgrowin’ jammies, I’d suggest an oversized T-shirt.”

“You wanna sleep with me, Spike?”

Spike melted. Looking into her face, all wide eyed and innocent, he thought: ‘S’pose this is someone’s idea of a big, cosmic joke. She finally asks me to sleep with her, and it’s as a vampire teddy bear.’

“Don’t everyone get your knickers in a twist. I’ll wear Giles’ sweats again. No way I’m goin’ t’sleep starkers next to the little bit.”

Xander threw his hands up, and left the room without another word. It was obvious that nobody was going to listen to his warnings about leaving an unchipped male vampire alone with a little girl. And who knows? Maybe Buffy was fated to end up with a vampire for a companion. Who else could handle her?

They awoke in much the same position as the morning before; legs twined together, arms around each other, and Spike’s erection pressed between them. Only this time, Spike was wearing sweat pants and Buffy was at least mostly covered by the T-shirt she wore.

“If I were you Spike, I’d find a way to keep me five years old forever.” Buffy said, disconsolately as, once again, she disentangled herself from his embrace. “I’m so much nicer to you when I’m little. And it doesn’t seem to matter what you are.”

Spike looked at her… stung that she would actually dismiss him in such a matter-of-fact way.

“See what I mean? That so didn’t come out the way I meant it. Little me had no problems saying what she meant.” She sat on the end of the bed, cross-legged and comfortable. “What I meant to say was, it didn’t matter to little me whether you were little or big. She loved you either way,”

“Would you mind repeatin’ that, Slayer?” Spike was stunned that Buffy would admit to any part of herself being in love with him… even one he’d never see again. “M’not so sure I didn’t go senile overnight.”

She smiled, knowing what she’d actually let slip by accident was out of character for her. It was hard to blame Spike for being surprised.

“Yeah, I admit it. Little Buffy was in love with little Spike and big Spike.”

“An’ grown up Buffy?” he encouraged, foolishly hoping for anything other than vitriol. “How does she feel about either Spike?”

Truth be told, right now she felt rather bad, seeing him wince as he awaited her answer. “First of all, it’s not fair you lying there with no shirt on, making me answer questions where you want an honest answer.”

He laughed and reached over the side of the bed for his T-shirt. The girl didn’t want any distractions – he’d humor her. “All right, pet. My pretty body is all covered up now. No more excuses for you.”

Buffy snapped her fingers. “Darn it, I knew that was too easy. Okay, the question before the vampire is how does big Buffy feel about either Spike. Easy part, first. William was the sweetest child I had ever met. Outside of the shock of finding him bouncing naked on my mattress when I woke up and one sorta thoughtless wardrobe issue, I fell in love with him, hook, line, and sinker.”

“Wish you were around when I was really five, pet. Things weren’t so good for little William. He didn’t have a friend in the bloody world; forced to play alone in the nursery, quietly, for fear of interrupting the adults.”

“They – whoever they are – found out that children are very social creatures, and thrive on the company of friends and adults.” Buffy smiled softly, feeling tenderness in her heart as she looked at the man against the headboard. “Maybe it would have made a difference in the way you related to others when you grew up.”

“Might’ve done, yeah. But you still haven’t answered the last part of my question, Buffy. I know m’being a masochist to keep after you this way, but I have to know.”

Buffy sighed; he really did deserve that much. Now, if only she knew the answer, herself. She wracked her brain for something… anything… that she could tell him and honestly mean it.

“I-it’s… complicated, Spike. To say the very least.” She began to twist her hair, obviously very uncomfortable with the subject at hand. “You know I-I’m not good with honesty and feelings. And you and I? So not a pairing that should ever be. Been there, done that, bear the fang marks.”

When Spike seemed about to voice a protest at Angel being dragged into the discussion, she held up her hand, asking him to keep quiet for now.

“You see? That’s the whole problem, right there. Angel – Angelus – not to mention vampires in general. I know it sounds funny, especially since we were both kids only a day or so ago, but I have a terrible time letting go of my past. And I mean my more recent past.” Buffy sighed, wishing herself anywhere but here right now. “It would be nice if I could hold onto little Buffy’s beliefs.”

Spike couldn’t take the painful hemming and hawing any longer. “Pet, if it’s really such a hardship to give me a straight answer, let’s just for…”

“No! It shouldn’t be so hard to admit I like you. That I care about you.” Her eyes opened wide at her admission. “Oh God.”

“Bloody hell!” The awe in his voice made the words sound like a prayer. “Buffy… don’t toy with me. If you don’t mean it, take it back… now! Spike shook with intensity as he leaned forward; her words too important to him to be anything less than brutally honest.

“I c-can’t, Spike. I can’t take it back,” she whispered, looking directly into his eyes for the first time since they woke up. “Things have changed so much between us since that night at the Bronze.” With mischief sparkling in her hazel eyes, she asked, “Do you want to know what I really felt the first time I saw you?”

Spike nodded. If Buffy was in a sharing mood, he wasn’t going to do anything to make her stop, no matter what she had to say.

“I was seventeen years old, surrounded by a horde of kids, and I caught sight of a platinum blond head slinking in and out of the darkness. Then you walked over and for a minute, my mind flashed a ‘hottie alert’. It said ‘aha! A man amongst the boys’. And then my Slayerness screwed everything up.”

Head cocked with a sweet smile gracing his lips, Spike gazed in her direction. “Liked what you saw then, pet? I did. Thought it was a damned shame my calling was to kill you.”

Buffy relaxed. This was something she could do blindfolded; banter with him. “And when you applauded my little performance, I thought it was a shame I had to kill you.”

“Wasn’t for lack of tryin’ on either of our parts, pet. We gave it a right go at times, but in truth, I don’t think either of us was really ready for the dance to end.”

“W-what if I told you I’d like to dance to a d-different tune?” Buffy gulped, knowing she was making a decision that would change both of their paths.

“You know how I feel, pet. I love you.” He reached out to stroke Buffy’s cheek. “Made no secret about that for a long time. What makes you want to take a chance, now?”

Buffy smiled, moving a little closer to her erstwhile enemy. “I’ve seen you, William. I’ve seen the best and worst of you, and I think you might just be the one person in all the world that can put up with all the craziness of my world.”

A knock on the open door startled them both. “Sorry to interrupt such a personal conversation,” Giles muttered, wearing an expression that said he was anything but. “I must say it’s good to see you back to normal once again, Buffy.”

“Rupert, you’re not goin’ to go nutters on the girl for havin’ a conversation that really wasn’t any of your business, are you?” Spike was ready to step in-between his Slayer and her Watcher if need be.

Giles sighed. “No need to get defensive, Spike. You and Buffy are adults… at least for the moment. There are things we need to discuss, however, before you even think of continuing that conversation. Please, get dressed and meet me downstairs. We can talk over breakfast.”

***

Giles and Tara were waiting at the table; plates filled once more with pancakes, scrambled eggs, and freshly buttered toast by each placemat. Juice, coffee and one mug of blood were placed at the appropriate seats.

Breakfast was eaten in silence. The hangdog expression on Spike’s and Buffy’s faces made them look like the pair of children they had just been, waiting to be punished.

Giles stood, clearing his throat. “Let me start out by saying I am not happy with this turn of events. Not in the slightest. The last time Buffy chose a vampire for a… boyfriend… we all paid dearly for it.”

“Bloody hell, Rupes. You’ve got to stop comparin’ me to the Poof.” Spike stood abruptly, pushing the chair away from the table. “I’ve got nothing to lose by shaggin’ and you know I’ll protect the girl with my last fleck of dust. All m’askin’ for is a bloody chance to see if there’s anything between us.”

“Sit down, Spike… and hear me out, please. There’s a piece of information I believe will make a difference to Buffy, as to whether or not she wants to begin a relationship with you.”

Buffy knew exactly what he was going to say, and thought she would be able to curb some of the threatening hostility if it came from her.

“If you’re going to mention that Spike’s chip is gone, you should know that Anya spilled that little gem when we ran into her, Willow, and Xander on patrol. Of course, Xander was busy shaking Spike around like rag doll, and threatening to dust him.”

Giles was stunned. He was sure his revelation about the chip would bring the girl to her senses. “And this doesn’t bother you? The fact that a soulless creature is free to feed and wreak havoc once more?”

“Oi, git! I’m right here,” the vampire spat, angrily. “It’s not like I got the chip removed on purpose… point of fact, I don’t know how the bloody hell it happened. Care to enlighten me?”

Tara spoke up, hoping to calm the tense situation down. “Well, it was an unusual set of circumstances that led to Angel removing the chip…”

“Angel!” It was Buffy’s turn to explode. “Now I know we’re in Bizarro land… maybe I’m really in an insane asylum and you’re all delusions.” She shook her head, unable to process that bit of information. “Out of anyone you could have mentioned, Angel would be the last person to remove Spike’s chip.”

“H-he had no choice, Buffy.” Tara forged ahead bravely. “When Spike fell, the chip dislodged and made it’s way to the surface. It had been discharging constantly, a-and…”

Recognition alit in Spike’s eyes. “That would explain why my head felt all… fuzzy. I think it had been going off all day, but I had no frame of reference to explain it to anyone.”

Giles’ anger dissipated as he remembered little Spike complaining of the fuzziness. “If it helps any, Angel said he could always dust you when you were back to your normal annoying self.”

“That sounds more like the git I know.” Spike snorted, a little of the tension coursing through his body released. “He can bloody well try, and when he does, he’s gonna find out m’not the helpless fledge he used to beat into submission when the mood struck.”

“How about I beat on you a little for old time’s sake?” Xander strode into the kitchen, seemingly ready to start up where he left off last night. “Don’t even bother getting up, folks. I’m actually just here to say my piece if you’ll let me.”

“There’s only one reason m’willing to listen, you wanker. That’s ‘cause you weren’t the one who hurt Buffy.” Spike’s level of alertness had doubled, ready to defend at a moment’s notice.

“Down, boy.” Xander held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I said talk only, but it’s not gonna be pretty. I’d just appreciate getting through my tirade before comments or fists start flying.”

When everyone remained silent, Xander began by pointing his finger at Spike. “I don’t like you. I don’t like you for almost too many reasons to count, but let me hit you with the highlights: You’re a vampire. I’ve been killing your kind for the past six years and don’t like making exceptions.

“It also frosts me that you’re related to Angel in whatever vampirey way you are. He’s the only vamp I hate more than you. It’s also the only thing that’s not your fault.” He ran his hand through his hair, trying to find the words to finish this once and for all.

“The thing I hate most of all, is that freaking chip. First – that Buffy refused to stake you because it made you helpless, and second – now that it’s gone, it’s obvious she’s still not gonna do it, or let anyone else take you out.”

Buffy stood, coldly glaring at the young man she’d counted on to help watch her back all these years. “Are you done showing your hatred yet, Xander? ‘Cause if Spike hasn’t heard enough, I certainly have.”

“Hate me all you want, Buffy, but at least you know exactly where I stand.” Xander shook his head sadly, worry evident in his brown eyes. “I’m sure you won’t listen to my concerns regarding the bleached menace, so I hereby give up. No more comments, no more spewing venom, and no staking attempts. I only hope I never have to say ‘I told you so’ with this one. Or lose another friend, like Ms. Calendar.”

Spike cocked his head to the side, studying the younger man. “There’s more, isn’t there, Harris? You been cryin’, an’ I’m sure it’s not over hurtin’ my delicate feelings.”

His tirade having run it’s course, all pretense at bluster was put aside. Xander broke down, whispering one word: “Willow.”

Tara stood abruptly. “Xander. Tell me. What’s the matter with Willow?”

“Bitch can’t keep her magic outta other people’s business,” Spike grumbled, and received a sound smack on the back of his head from Buffy for his troubles.

“Not now,” she hissed. “I know you’re upset on my behalf as well as yours, but something’s really wrong for him to be this upset about her… especially in front of you.”

Xander concentrated solely on Tara. At least he knew how deeply she had loved Willow at one time –
before she started taking things into her own hands. “She’s in trouble, Tara. You know she is. This business with Spike is just the final thing before she goes off the cliff big-time.”

“If one of you lot would have listened to me, I’d have told you that a long time ago.” Spike refused to quail under the sharp looks he received from everyone at his comment. “And don’t you all give me that ‘shut up, Spike’ bollocks. Red’s been going off the deep end for awhile now. Somethin’ don’t go her way, she’s lookin’ for a shortcut to fix it. Girl likes to be in control – just doesn’t seem to matter who gets in her way anymore.”

“Yea, and the earth will tremble, but I agree with Fangboy.” Xander shuddered, as if the very act of agreeing with the vampire was distasteful. “We’ve all been ignoring it for a long time, and ever since… well... ever since Buffy’s resurrection, Will’s been on a frustrated power trip. And the worst thing is, she means well.”

Giles sat deep in thought, wondering why he never followed through on his instincts to either fully train or control Willow’s burgeoning powers. Clichés sprang to mind… Absolute power corrupts absolutely… The road to hell is paved with good intentions… all fitting. Well, something had to be done, and immediately. Attempted murder was never a good sign.

“Tara, I do believe we need to contact the Coven in Devon. Perhaps they’ll know what’s to be done for Willow.” With a sigh, Giles removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose in a failed attempt to stem the headache threatening to swamp him. “It won’t be long before she ceases to recognize any boundaries at all at this rate.”

“Can I get a few words in now?” Buffy felt her priorities being torn in several different directions, but knew she had to make a stand, and now. “Nothing’s felt right for me since that dive off the tower. I don’t talk about it much, because none of you want to hear what I really have to say… except for Spike.”

“Now see here, Buffy. You know we’re always here for you.” Try as he might to be civil, Giles couldn’t help but feel incensed that they were all being thrown over for the vampire.”

“Right… you’re here for me until you decide to waltz off to England, even when I begged you not to leave. For my own good, you said. I don’t even ask for help, and I begged you not to leave. Have you cashed in your ticket yet? Are you here for me?” Buffy’s voice cracked as the tears began to fall.

“Willow’s still convinced she had the right to bring me back from the dead. Doesn’t even matter to her that she dragged me out of heaven. She’s just pissed because I’m not all ‘happy, quippy, grateful Buffy’. Xander’s too involved with his wedding and future to remember I probably don’t even have one, and Tara and I aren’t exactly close.”

Spike reached out for her tentatively; not wanting to spook her but wanting to offer his support. “S’all right, pet. Don’t take on so.”

Buffy stood, snaking her arm around the vampire’s waist and pulled him close to her side. “Who else wanted to listen to me whine but a pain in the ass vampire I couldn’t remove from my side with a shoehorn?” She smiled softly, taking the sting out of her words.

“I just needed time. I needed something, and Spike gave it to me. He gave me the time to rant and rave, or be silent and moody. All he asked for was to be near me, and… and… I usually stayed away because I was worried about you all finding out and judging me.” A small, maniacal laugh escaped her lips.

“Before Giles interrupted this morning, Spike and I were talking about changing attitudes towards each other. Me towards him, actually. Didn’t get too far with it, though. But I guess I can tell all of you at the same time. I want to see where it leads. Just being nice and pleasant, and giving him the simple courtesies I give anyone else.”

At Spike’s soft snicker, she rolled her eyes and amended her last statement. “Fine, smart ass – the courtesies I should be giving everybody else. I’m not expecting much. If you can’t be civil, just leave him alone. I’m gonna put some major time and effort into this, so just don’t go all wiggy on me. That’s it. Anyone have final parting words?”

When none were forthcoming, Buffy grabbed Spike’s arm in a move that left the others with a lingering sense of déjà vu, and headed back to the bedroom.

Though he was certain they were heading towards impending doom, Spike still relished the feel of Buffy’s strong thighs as they tightened around his hips and her head resting against his back. Her arms encircled his waist, while her hands and their traitorous little digits were… busy. They’d wormed their way under Spike’s T-shirt, and were splaying against his twitching abs. Every now and again, she’d get a little bit of the devil in her and run her nails along the muscle ridges, laughing at each swerve of the bike that resulted from her actions.

Spike felt as if he were in heaven, or as close as he was likely to get. He could feel the curve of Buffy’s lips as she smiled against his jacket. The power of the machine between his legs was nothing compared to the feeling he was getting from the girl at his back.

They’d argued about it before heading out on this fool’s journey. Spike hadn’t wanted to go at all. Dealing with Angel after all that had gone down in the past week would be… difficult, to say the least. Downright impossible if their past was any indication. Spike would have preferred above anything to let sleeping dogs lie.

Buffy, on the other hand, insisted that he go and deal with Angel once and for all – and on going along, herself, upping the degree of difficulty tenfold. Spike was going to try and find some peace with Angel. Shoving his burgeoning relationship with the woman the elder vampire felt forced to give up would be rubbing salt into already raw wounds. In addition, neither believed the other worthy of her.

The agreed upon compromise was Buffy visiting her father for a couple of hours, and joining Spike afterwards. She, too, had some unfinished business with Angel.

As the bike motored on, he felt Buffy’s hands drift downwards, toying with the soft pad of his belly. If she kept doing that for much longer, she’d be shaking hands with more than she bargained for.

Spike turned his head slightly and slowed the bike’s speed. “Minx! You tryin’ to run us off the road?”

“Just call me Dora the Explorer,” Buffy yelled, trying to be heard above the sound of the bike and the wind. As if to emphasize her new calling, her fingers started to spider-crawl their way just the teensiest bit lower.

Any other time Spike would have leant back and encouraged Buffy’s attentions; a hand job on a moving motorcycle was nothing new to him. However, the last thing they needed was Super Nose sniffing the results of her ministrations. Any chance for peace would be quashed before he walked through the door.

Spike pulled the bike over to the shoulder of the road and dismounted, with Buffy following right behind. The merry twinkle in her eyes had him this close to abandoning his plans for Los Angeles and doing a little exploring of his own.

“The things I give up for you, luv,” he sighed. “If you don’t want to drive this bike home with a pocket of dust for a passenger, I’d suggest you don’t leave me smellin’ of anything but your own sweet arms.”

Buffy thought for a moment, before wrinkling her nose in disgust. “Gods, Spike. You’re such a pig.”

“Might be, sweetling, but scenting is a trait we vampires can’t ignore.” He ran his fingers lightly over her arm, bringing her hand to his lips for a chaste kiss on her palm. “It feeds us, protects us, pleasures, and condemns us.”

She looked deep into his blue eyes before bursting out with peals of laughter. “And you have the… the… stones to call Angel a drama queen?”

If it weren’t for the sheer pleasure he got from seeing his girl as happy and carefree as her younger self, Spike would have been furious. He’d felt the sting of her laughter before, but this time he could sense it was different. There was no mocking involved, and he allowed himself to relax and join in the play.

“That’s good, pet.” He laughed back, pulling Buffy up tight against his body. “Just dress me up and call me Priscilla, Queen of the Desert.” He dropped another kiss on the crown of her head, letting her feel just how much of a ‘queen’ he wasn’t.

Buffy gulped, knowing they’d get carried away if they didn’t get back on that bike now! “O-okay, fine. You’ve made your… point. We can figure out who’s royalty when we get home.”

Stepping over the bike, Spike patted the seat behind him. “Hop on, little mama.” The blond smirked, and took off with a roar as soon as Buffy was settled in behind him, hands in a little more circumspect grip this time around.

An hour and a half later, they parted ways. Before she headed towards her father’s office building, Buffy wrapped her arms around Spike’s waist, and gently brushed her lips against his. “You’re already stinky with me,” she snickered. “What harm can a little more eau de Buffy do? And again, ewww! I still find that sniffing thing so very, very icky.”

“Promise you’ll come back to me, pet?” He tried for light and teasing, but the need that echoed in his own ears made him wince.

“If you didn’t need some privacy, I wouldn’t leave in the first place.” She resisted the urge to go and hug him again. This new separation anxiety business was something they were going to have to learn to live with. “Promise me I’ll have an annoying platinum blond vampire to come back to?”

“I’ll be on my best behavior, Slayer. Can’t make promises about the Poof, but I’ll do m’best.”

***

Spike pulled into a space directly in front of the Hyperion, and looked back at the bike. He wasn’t worried about it not being there when it was time to go home, he was worried about himself not being there to go back with Buffy.

He walked through the double doors, not knowing what to expect. It surprised him to find the place dark and deserted. Fairly sure someone would have ratted his visit out, Spike was almost expecting to be greeted by Cordelia aiming her trusty crossbow at his heart.

“Oi, Peaches! Cheerleader!” The silence was rather eerie, as if he’d walked into a vacuum. “Anyone here?”

Angel walked out of his office. “You don't have to yell. I heard the moment you pulled up with the motorcycle, Spike. Stealth has never been your forte.”

I can control my temper. I can control my temper. Spike closed his eyes and clenched his jaw tightly at the obvious gibe, cracking his neck to relieve the tension.

“Giles called, warning me you were on your way with Buffy.” The elder vampire walked a circuit around Spike, as if inspecting him. “Where is she and why are you here alone?”

“Wanted to do this without the Slayer. Wasn’t sure you told her all about our past, an’ I don’t rightly know where this is goin’ to lead. I thought I’d spare her some of the more… gruesome details.” Spike ran his fingers through his hair, not entirely comfortable with the fact that his erstwhile Sire was being civil. “Buffy's at her father's, but she’ll be back in a couple hours, sooner if that wanker disappoints her again.”

Spike’s nerves made him twitchy. “Where’re all your minions? Didn’t want witnesses?” Stabbing an accusatory finger in Angel’s direction, he muttered, “Just don't go thinkin' of my dusty ending or you'll have one brassed off Slayer on your hands.”

He began to pace, unable to stand still for more than a moment. “Got a question for you, Peaches, an’ I want a detailed answer. Just tell me why?”

“Why, what, Spike? Why is the sky blue?” Angel asked, deliberately blandly. Winding up the blond had always been one of his favorite pastimes. “Aren’t you a little old to be asking those kinds of questions?”

“You bloody tosser!” The younger vampire snarled; the effort to keep from going into gameface and attacking corded the muscles in his neck. Unclenching his jaw, Spike let loose with a volley of words, not pausing in-between questions long enough for the elder vampire to get a word in edgewise.

“Why any of it?” His pacing picked up speed, throwing up his hands with each question. “Why’d you go to Sunnyhell when Giles called? Why’d you bother staying an’ removing the chip? Feedin’ me your own blood, twice? Caring? Why the bloody hell didn’t you just dust me while you had the chance?”

“Are you done? Do you really want answers or are you just mouthing off to hear yourself speak?”

Suddenly, Spike was fairly sure he didn’t want to hear the next words out of Angel’s mouth, but he kept quiet, nevertheless.

“Truth be told, I had no desire to show up in Sunnydale at all when I heard it was you who was injured.” Angel’s voice was flat and unemotional; conveying the events as they’d unfolded. “I told Giles that as a vampire you’d either heal or dust. I didn’t want to be involved.”

Even though Spike had been expecting to hear how little he mattered, it still stung to have it told so bluntly to his face.

“So why…?”

“He played on my feelings for Buffy. Giles told me she was affected by the same thing as you were, intimating that what happened to you would likely happen to her. He never told me you were both children.”

Angel folded his arms across his chest, once again studying the vampire before him. He had to admit to himself that there were mixed feelings on his part in facing Spike down this way. On a bad day, he could still feel an occasional twinge from all that damned rebar courtesy of the younger vampire’s associate, Marcus.

Thanks to these past few days, he could vividly recall his grandchilde’s younger self, instinctively trusting with him, and gentle with Buffy. If he looked closely, he could make out the little one’s features in the grown up face.

“Take a soddin’ picture, Angel. It’ll last longer.” Spike wished he would say something already… didn’t matter if it was derogatory or baiting. The silence was nerve-wracking.

“I’m just trying to find the right words to answer your question.” Angel said, sitting down on a padded chair.

Spike resumed his pacing, Even the fact that Angel was calm enough to sit down agitated him. “It’s not a difficult question, you bloody git. Why didn’t you let me dust, or drain me if the soul would’ve twinged at you walkin’ away?”

“A moment of weakness?” Angel shrugged his shoulders, knowing there was nothing that angered Spike more than being dismissed out of hand. “Nah, that’s not it. You reminded me of someone… someone I couldn’t save.” The elder vampire laughed softly, tickled by his own thoughts. “Sort of an undead memorial.”

Terrific, not only was he deemed unworthy of his grandsire’s time in the first place… now he owed his unlife to some dead kid and a case of the guilts over Buffy.

All the energy seemed to leave Spike at once as he slumped into a chair opposite Angel. No matter what, it was obvious he’d never be enough to garner respect in his own right.

Looking at his dejected grandchilde, Angel decided he’d pushed far enough. One important question had been answered, at least in his own mind. Spike wouldn’t give free reign to his temper over words or attitudes that used to provoke a week long rage when he was barely past the fledgling stage.

Spike raised his head; his gaze listless and unfocussed. It wasn’t that he’d given up… exactly. He did have his Slayer to go home with as long as Angel didn’t take up his ‘must dust Spike’ mantra. He just wished the git would get on with it instead of talking him to a second death.

Breaking an unlifetime’s worth of habit and unwritten law in their family dynamic, the elder vampire offered an olive branch. “It wasn’t all bad, you know. At least not in the beginning.”

“What are you going on about, then?” The softness and compassion in Angel’s tone jarred Spike out of his haze.

“I seem to remember Angelus being rather pleased when Dru dragged your scrawny ass home for the first time.” Angel smiled at the memory. It had been a long time since he’d recalled his introduction to William. “It was nice not being the only rooster in the henhouse.”

“Yeah, right. Angelus. You still pulling that old him an’ me bit to justify a hundred an’ fifty years of destruction and bloodshed?” Spike snorted, amazed at how stupid it all seemed. You simply were who you were; man, demon or soul, and you owned up to all your actions. “Fine. Whatever it takes to get you through the night.”

“I’m trying to…” Angel knew this discussion wasn’t going to be easy. He’d basically run roughshod over, abused, ignored and subjugated William for the near twenty years they lived together. “What I said before was… wasn’t exactly the truth, Spike. How does someone apologize for being truly a selfish bastard, caring for nobody and nothing but his own pleasures?”

“You’d be a right ponce to try,” the younger vampire snarled. “And nothing you ever did to me an’ Dru equaled the cowardly way you abandoned us both to that hellbitch’s whims. Darla,” he spat, “took it all out on us.”

“It all went so wrong,” Angel tried to explain. “I’ve never been one to revel in my own pain, and the ensouling just about drove me mad with my past deeds. Add yours and Dru’s and I felt I had to escape to survive.”

“Coward!” Spike reiterated. “If you had bothered to tell either of us, we’d’ve stuck with you. You know we would’ve.”

Angel nodded. “Now, I do. Back then I was only thinking of my own pain. And then there was Buffy. Want a drink?”

“Nah… need to keep myself sober. Not willin’ to chance hurtin’ the girl on the way home.”

“You and Dru aren’t the only ones I left behind.” Angel sighed, still hurting over decisions he’d made in the past. “Leaving Buffy behind nearly broke me, but Joyce was right. I had to make the difficult decision for her own good.”

Spike’s hands gripped the armrests so tightly that the metal began to buckle He was just this side of attacking the elder vampire for the pain he was responsible for. “You stupid, selfish berk.” Shaking his head sadly, Spike continued. “Biggest mistake you ever made, Peaches. Should’ve stayed with her.”

Refusing to rise to the bait, Angel insisted he’d done the right thing. “I-it wasn’t, damn it! I gave her up so she could find a little normalcy in her life. Someone she could walk in the sun with… have children with.”

“But she walks in the dark! She walks in cemeteries and kills things. Every. Single. Night.” The blond was furious. “You gave up on her, you mean. You gave her up for someone she’d have to protect… another burden.” Spike waved his hand in his grandsire’s direction, dismissing him as a fool for his actions. “Should’ve stayed with her, mate. What you did… leaving her? Destroyed the girl, slowly.”

Angel looked at him as if he were insane. Buffy was fine when he last saw her. Of course she was grieving over her mother’s death, but it was a normal part of the cycle of life and death. Surely she’d moved on enough to continue with her life.

“She never fully recovered from you leaving, Angel. In her mind, everyone she ever cared about abandoned her. First her father, then you… then fuckin’ Captain Cardboard. Even her mum’s death added to the toll. The girl’s got issues that crippled her.”

Steadfastly holding on to his belief that he had done right by Buffy, the elder vampire refused to meet Spike’s accusations.

“I tried to be there for her, but she had little use for a chipped and soulless demon ‘cept as occasional muscle. An’ when the Slayer finally gave in to her death wish while tusslin’ with that Hellgod, Glory? I had to stand by and pick up the bloody pieces. One old Watcher and a handful of kids left to watch over the Hellmouth? The soddin’ Scoobies were fallin’ apart. Who the bloody hell do you think patrolled with ‘em to keep them safe? Wasn’t you.” Of course Spike didn’t mention the fact that being somewhat useful was the only thing that kept him from actually taking a walk in the sun on a day by day basis.

Angel grew deadly serious as he listened to Buffy’s travails since he’d left. Apparently a ‘normal’ life wasn’t in the cards for her no matter who she was with.

“Gets better when Red an’ her cohorts decided to play ‘raise the dead’. Rupes went back home; a broken man with no Slayer to watch.” Spike’s chest hitched, remembering those dismal days when Buffy was gone. “The stress of patrollin’ nightly was wearin’ on the lot of ‘em.”

“Willow’s gotten downright scary,” said Angel. “Her need to be in control rivals Faith’s. Why hasn’t Giles done anything about her?”

“After Buffy clawed her way out of her coffin, Rupes was on the next plane back to Sunnyhell. Was as happy as the rest of us to see her back, but like me, was furious about the witch’s total lack of respect for the laws of death and nature. Heard him tell her off good an’ proper, when the Slayer an’ me were on the back porch. Bloody hell, even vamps don’t play around with resurrections because of the consequences.”

Angel had the decency to look abashed, as he remembered Angelus’… his attempted raising of Acathla.

Spike snorted as he remembered what came next. “Then we come to droopy boy. Actually summoned a demon that turned the town into Sunnyhell, the Musical. People would burst into song, dance, and then spontaneously combust.”

“And this has to do with Buffy, how?” The elder vampire was confused.

“M’getting’ there. Everyone ended up singin’ about their innermost secrets. S’when they found out Buffy had been in heaven… not a hell dimension as Red thought. She’d been hiding it from her friends, but she’d told me. She’d come to me at night and we’d talk, or be quiet. Whatever she needed.” Spike shook his head in amazement that she’d come to him at all, whatever her reasons were.

“Could feel her slippin’ away day by day. Livin’ was hell for her.” Spike tilted his head, as his expression grew thoughtful. “It’s been better the past day or so, even with all the chaos of flippin’ ages back and forth. S’like she found something… a lost innocence... makes her glow when she smiles.”

Words failed to convey the emotional turmoil gathering in Angel’s chest. They’d never been his forte; he was always more a man of action. The elder vampire rose from his seat with a growl, and sprang without warning at Spike, grabbing the blond out of his seat.

Spike didn’t have the time to react. He barely had time for one last coherent thought – that he’d regret never seeing Buffy again, and he was fairly sure she’d never know how he met his end.

Angel continued to growl deep in his throat; eyes flickering amber as he stared deep into the younger vampire’s blue gaze.

“Just bloody do it, already, you old poof!” The last of Spike’s bravado made itself known. “If you’re gonna drain me, get on with it before…”

Spike was cut off mid-rant by the mouth smashed against his own in a brutal kiss, hard enough to split his lower lip. Angel’s tongue lapped at the oozing flesh, gently sucking to encourage a little more blood flow.

As he quickly came to the realization that dusting wasn’t in his imminent future, Spike relaxed. His hands came up to settle on Angel’s shoulders, unconsciously pulling the bigger man closer, molding his body to his grandsire’s and returning the kiss with fervor.

‘I’m sorry’s’ were uttered over and over by both parties; for what sins, neither was exactly sure. Angel pressed a line of gentle kisses along the expanse of bared neck then backed away, as if aware this was taking a decidedly different turn from his intentions.

Spike crumbled to the floor, in shock from the embrace as well as the sudden lack of support. “What the bloody hell was that all about?”

Angel appeared to be as stunned as the blond. “It's just... I think… you know there’s always been something between us… something that didn’t involve the girls.”

“The only thing that’s ever been between us has been your hatred and your bloody cock.” The younger vampire was not amused

“You’re a pig, Spike.” Really, the man had no sense of class whatsoever, Angel thought.

“Hey! Isn’t that usually my line?” Buffy made her presence known, looking from Spike on the floor, to Angel looming over him. “I thought this was supposed to be a talk, Blondie. Why is your ass on the floor?”

Shit! Both vampires worried about what she’d heard… if she heard…

Buffy smirked. “You look like a pair of puppies caught stealing the Sunday roast from the kitchen table.”

“Um, it-it’s not what it looks like, Buffy,” Angel stammered.

“Well, recently being in the same position, I’ll give you a chance to explain why Spike is on the ground. Points in your favor for him not lying in a puddle of blood.” Turning to the younger vampire, she mouthed, “We so have to talk when we get home.”

“S’all right, luv,” Spike soothed, giving his grandsire an easy out. “Just worked out some past differences. Seem’s like the Poof’s had a change of heart about yours truly.” He looked over at Angel for confirmation.

“As long as Spike doesn't start feeding again, he'll have no problems from me,” the elder vampire said quietly.

Buffy stared at them, fear in her eyes, and dropped suddenly to huddle in a ball on the floor.

Scuttling over to her, Spike reached out to grab her shaking shoulder. “What’s wrong, Slayer?” Concern made his voice crack.

She looked up, giggling uncontrollably… soundlessly; helpless to stop and unable to catch her breath.

“You bloody bitch!” The relief that nothing was wrong softened his harsh words.

“I’m so sorry,” Buffy wheezed, finally able to pull in a little oxygen. “If this isn’t a perfect setting for another apocalypse, nothing is.”

Buffy collapsed, laughter overtaking her once more. This time she dragged Spike with her. The two began a mock-fight, pummeling each other lightly while rolling around on the lobby floor.

Angel sat back and smiled sadly. It was true, then. He’d finally lost her. But she? Looked like Buffy found what she’d been looking for in a partner all along… an equal.

And he’d regained a family.

End? Nah! Sequel to follow: Reclamation