The ride home from Los Angeles was considerably more carefree than the ride out from Sunnydale. In point of fact, Spike more than encouraged Buffy to indulge in her Dora the Explorer urges this time around. After all, the only nose that mattered was his. Between her hands and the bike acting as an eight hundred pound vibrator… everything was going to smell deliciously ripe.

They pulled up in front of Buffy’s house, sore, sated and sticky… and very grateful that nobody was home.

Buffy started stripping the moment the front door closed. “Last one in the shower is a stinky-pants!” She giggled, running up the stairs, leaving Spike with his mouth hanging open in shock.

Yeah, she’d teased and toyed and brought him off a few times over the course of an hour on the ride home. Had herself a right good pop or four if his nose was any judge. However, he wasn’t exactly sure if she was inviting him into her shower, or one of his own as they’d done when their little adventure began.

“Stinky-pants,” she sing-songed, sticking her head out of the bathroom before turning on the water.

She can only stake me once, he figured, kicking off his boots and dropping his clothes as he took the stairs three at a time.

Steam billowed from the shower stall as he entered the bathroom to whispered chants of “stinky-pants, stinky-pants.”

“Not nice, Slayer,” Spike growled softly. “Had some help in that department. ‘Sides, left the pants at the bottom of the stairs.”

He pushed the curtain back and stepped into the shower, praying Buffy hadn’t hidden a stake in some delightfully amusing place. The steam was so thick he could hardly make her out, but what he did see of her was glistening and pinkened from the hot water.

Buffy turned around to faced him, water streaming over her head. “Don’t worry, Spike. I won’t bite,” she said mischievously. “Unless you beg really, really hard.” She ducked to avoid a swat to her rear and lost her footing, ending up with a splat on the shower floor.

And just then, as things were about to get interesting, the door slammed downstairs. Spike could hear the witch mouthing off about the clothing strewn all over the floor and the stairs, not to mention the boy’s angry voice when he realized some of the clothing was his.

Buffy reached up, praying he’d see her hand and help her up. With a quick ‘sorry’ she wrapped one towel around her body and another around her hair and skedaddled to her bedroom, leaving Spike to turn off the water and grab his own towels.

The arguing from downstairs grew louder. Xander was trying to push his way past Willow, who was blocking the stairs.

“This is all kinds of wrong, Will,” he spluttered. “Maybe Buffy came back wrong. You know… a little brain damaged, or she’s still not all caught up age-wise.”

The redhead stammered, “I-it’s j-just clothing, Xander. They’re p-probably in separate showers. Maybe we shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

“Uh huh. And their clothes just jumped off their bodies as they walked naked up the stairs to take separate showers.” Gods, he was so tired of dealing with vampires, Slayers, and women who didn’t want him even when he offered himself up on a silver platter. Someone should blow up the whole demony town and be done with it once and for all.

Xander bent to pick up Spike’s pants, the urge to throw them along with his shirt and boots out the door overwhelming. He noticed a smell he was all too familiar with. “This is just too much,” he barked, throwing the pants back on the floor in disgust. “Over a hundred years old and he’s messing his pants.”

“What are you talking about, Xander? Vampires don’t…” It took Willow just a moment to realize just what vampires did do. “Eeeew! But… but… in his pants has to be better than in… she wouldn’t… not again, with another vampire! What’s wrong with her? How could she?”

“How could I what, Willow?”

Both heads turned in the direction of the stairs, where an irate Buffy appeared; hair still dripping from the shower.

“I repeat – how could I what? How could I not be the little puppet Slayer you want me to be? Not be the whimpering, simpering little depresso girl you dragged out of Heaven?” she bit, finally having reached her limits with her once best friend. “And worst of all, how could I turn to Spike instead of you?”

Xander spoke up in Willow’s defense. “That’s enough, Buffy. Will never did anything to hurt you on purpose. She might have been a little misguided, but…”

“Misguided?” Buffy shrieked. “Bringing someone back from the dead is misguided? Casting spells on little boys is misguided? Attempting to murder a vampire I’d expressly chosen to trust is misguided?”

Turning her fury on Xander, she continued with her tirade. “And you, Xander… you’ll just never get over this black and white way you see the world, will you? You blind yourself to things you don’t want to face... like the fact that your fiancée has more blood on her hands than Spike ever spilled over the years.”

“Leave Anya out of this.”

“Sure, like you leave Spike out of every argument. And Angel, for that matter. Everything that’s ever gone wrong in your life you blame on others. Both of you,” she fumed, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

“Just once I’d like you guys to realize it’s not All. About. You. Because you want things doesn’t make it the right things. I wish you’d spend a week living my life, and see how you like it!”

A flash of lightning followed by a booming crack of thunder had Spike jumping over the handrail, coming to a stop next to Buffy. He’d managed to scrounge up a pair of sweatpants that were either leftovers from Riley or her father.

When the dust cleared, D’Hoffryn stood with his arms akimbo; a twisted, toothy smile on his face. “Oh, this is rich,” he chortled. “Ms. Rosenberg, you should have taken me up on my offer years ago. I’m sorely tempted to make the Slayer an offer, but instead… this should be a lot more fun. Wish granted.”

Never one to stick around and watch the fallout, D’Hoffryn was gone with another thunderclap, leaving a scorched ring on the carpet.

When will I learn to keep my mouth shut? Buffy couldn’t believe her eyes. Of course, it didn’t improve her temper any when she heard Spike snickering softly in back of her.

Sitting on the floor were a red haired little girl and a brown haired little boy, both swimming in their older selves’ clothing.

Spike gently nudged Buffy’s shoulder. “I’ve always said payback’s a bitch, pet. Looks like it’s come around to bite us on the collective arse,” he whispered.

“With any luck, they won’t have a clue as to who we are,” Buffy murmured back. “We’ll see just how literal the old guy was in making them live my life.”

“If he’s followed form, we’ve got a little boy with absolutely no powers to worry about, and a little witch that has no clue about her powers.”

Buffy paused for a moment, deep in thought. “I guess we’ll have it a lot easier than they did. At least they’re both human.”

A timid tug at the leg of her pants brought Buffy’s attention to little Xander. The poor boy looked ready to bolt if she made a quick move, so she gently knelt in front of him to be less intimidating.

“S’cuse me, Miss,” he began shyly. “Me an’ Willow wanna know where we are.” He shot a quick glance up at Spike. “And who you guys are.”

“We’re friends, Xander. My name is Buffy and he’s William, but you can call him Spike.”

“Why are we wearing these funny clothes, Buffy?” The little boy looked frightened, as if he’d done something wrong.

“Don’t worry, mate,” said Spike, ruffling his curls. Hard to believe this innocent little thing would turn into such a bigoted man in less than twenty years. “You and the girl were just playin’ dress up.” Picking the child up and slinging him onto his hip, he motioned to Buffy to do the same with Willow, who still hadn’t moved nor said a word since the change.

Scooping Willow up into her arms, Buffy asked: “Do you think we should call Giles before showing up on his doorstep all deja-vuey?”

“Luv, you call and tell him we’re comin’ with another set of munchkins, and he’s gonna be packed and headin’ for the hills before we walk out this door.”

“Heh! I think we’ve scared the poor man out of ever wanting children for life.” She giggled, making the child in her arms smile. “C’mon, Willow. What do you say to going out on a little adventure?”

The little redhead sparked to life, peeking out from behind her curtain of red hair. “Yay! ‘venture time. But Xander, too?” she asked worriedly, not wanting her best friend left behind.

“Xander, too.” Looking at Spike and his charge, Buffy crooked her elbow. “To Oz?”

“To bleedin’ Oz, pet.”

~*~

They stood in front of Giles’ home, trying to gather the patience for the questions that were bound to be launched at them rapidfire once they stepped inside.

Tara answered the door with a blond boy dressed in one of little Spike’s old outfits balanced on her hip. Laughing as she ushered them all inside, she said, “I see you got hit with the munchkin stick, too. I had a funny feeling I wasn’t going to be alone in this.”

Willow, Xander, and Rupert were soon dressed in the pajamas left over from Buffy and Spike’s adventures in childhood the previous week. After a round of milk and cookies, the children were herded upstairs to the guestroom. With any luck, they’d all fall asleep and leave the adults to talk.

Tara was the only one smiling as Spike and Buffy took seats next to each other on the couch. “Okay, you two. Spill. What caused the kiddie second coming?”

Buffy slowly raised her hand, wiggling her fingers with a sheepish grin.. “Me and my big mouth. Xander and Willow were giving us a hard time, and I wished just once that they could live a week in my shoes… and poof! D’Hoffryn made like the Wicked Witch and voila! Sesame Street time again.”

“So you were very specific in the time frame of your wish. That means Camp Munchkin is in business for a week.” The blonde’s smile faltered for a moment. “I-I was going to mention calling their parents, but I don’t think they’ll even notice their children are missing for an entire week. That’s so sad.”

“If I might make a suggestion, Glinda?” Spike broke in for the first time since they’d arrived. “I think we need to give a quick glimpse to the Watcher’s room, remove the more dangerous weapons he’s probably got hid, and give the three tots the bigger room. Buffy an’ I managed in the smaller room, but three of ‘em are gonna get crowded in there.”

Tara nodded, agreeing that they probably needed the space. The two women were already midway up the stairs to set up the master bedroom when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it, pets. If it’s a Jehovah’s Witness, I’ll toss in a little fang and they’ll never show themselves here again. Do the Watcher a big…”

Spike opened the door to a very stunned Cordelia, who whipped out a cross in self defense. After all, the last time she’d seen Spike, he’d been torturing her boss. Unfortunately for her, the cross in her hand caused the little boy held in her other arm to howl in fear.

That’s all it took for recognition to set in. “Buffy!” Spike called out in-between belly laughs. “Get down here, luv.”

Thinking there was trouble of some kind; Buffy came barreling down the stairs, stake at the ready. Spying Cordelia holding a cross and the crying little boy, with Spike writhing on the ground, she assumed he’d been burned and dropped to her knees to assess the damage.

“Buffy,” he wheezed, when he finally managed to get in enough air to form words. “When you make a wish, pet, you don’t fool around.”

She looked at the child. “Don’t tell me that’s…Angel?” Buffy was stunned. “What did I do? And how many more kids are gonna show up thanks to me?”

Cordelia shoved her way inside, putting Angel down. “Huh! I should have known this had something to do with you. And what’s the sitch with Sir Laughs-a-lot? Isn’t he still evil?”

“Oi, Cheerleader! M’right here. You got a problem with me?”

“Nah, Blondie. Angel told me all about your second childhood, but it never hurts to be prepared.” After pocketing the cross, the brunette reached out her hand to help Spike up, grinning at the surprise on his face. “Don’t look so shocked, bleach boy. A girl can change.”

“Apparently anybody can if you can,” Buffy snorted under her breath. “So, Cordy… you staying to join the Babysitter’s Club?”

“I don’t see why I should, not with all of you around to take care of one little boy. Even for me that’s taking lazy a little too far.”

“You don’t know the half of it, Princess,” Spike muttered. “Buffy, why don’t you take her an’ Angel upstairs and show her just what’s been goin’ on here.”

Cordelia shivered at the Mona Lisa smile that graced Buffy’s face. She wasn’t used to the little blonde being so confident in her presence. Steeling herself for the worst, they followed her up the stairs to the guestroom, her hand on Angel’s back as if to prevent him from falling backwards.

Someone had taped up a sign that read ‘Munchkin Central’ on the door. How did they know she was coming with Angel? She made certain not to call – not to give them an excuse for being unavailable to watch the little vampire.

Sitting on the bed was the personification of the ‘see no evil’, ‘do no evil’, and ‘speak no evil’ monkeys: Xander, Willow, and…

“Okay you guys, I recognize Willow and Xander from when they actually looked like that… but who’s the little blondie on the end?”

“If you really want to know, you could always ask me what my name is,” said Rupert. “I’m not made out of wood.”

“Geeze, does he sound like a little Giles or what?” Cordelia looked at Buffy, who was trying her hardest to hold in her laughter. “No, really? That’s Giles?”

Rupert stood, a little annoyed with her attitude. He hated it when adults talked around him. He was perfectly capable of carrying on a conversation with adults, thank you very much.

“Yeah, I’m Rupert Giles. Care to make somethin’ of it?”

Spike, Buffy, and Tara finally gave in to their laughter. The posturing of the child was just too much. So Rupert really was a little Ripper as a tot. Ought to make the week interesting, to say the least.

“I am so out of here. I take enough attitude at work that I don’t need it from a little pisher like him.” With an imperious wave of her hand, Cordelia headed for the door. “Bye, Angel. Auntie Cordelia will be back for you when you’re gr… in a week. Be good now, and drink all your blood like a good little vampire.”

“M’bettin’ she was never one for babysittin’ as a teenager,” Spike snarked as soon as Cordelia left the room.

Tara gathered the youngsters together and worked out sleeping arrangements for the night. Xander and Willow would share the bed, as they were used to sleepovers, and Angel and Rupert got sleeping bags on the floor. A quick check to make sure the windows were covered securely for Angel’s sake, and they were almost ready for bed.

Volunteering for Mother Goose duty the first night, she sat in the middle of the bed and began to read from Alice in Wonderland. Giles had mentioned reading it to Buffy and Spike, and figured it would work with the other children.

Spike and Buffy walked quietly from the room, letting Tara quietly read the children to sleep.

“I think it’s a good idea for me and Tara to sleep upstairs, Spike. This way we’ll be near the kids if they wake up in the middle of the night.”

He had to laugh. Seemed he’d been doing a lot of that lately, and it felt damned good.

“And just what’s so funny, mister?”

“Say this once out loud, pet, and try to keep a straight face,” he said, trying to keep his voice down as they walked down the stairs. “Spike and I have four little ones and I’m making him sleep on the couch.”

Buffy repeated the words, and promptly burst out in a fit of giggles. “Only us, Spike,” she gasped. “One week and our entire lives are changed around. We couldn’t sell this to Ripley’s.”

She checked the curtains, making sure they were secure from the morning light. Spike beckoned her to the couch, where he had already stretched out, hoping for a goodnight snuggle.

Buffy slid under the covers, remembering the feel of all those hard muscles from their interrupted shower not so many hours ago. She rubbed her nose against Spike’s in an Eskimo kiss, then pressed another not so chaste kiss against his lips, before getting off the couch.

“Pleasant dreams, Spike, she whispered. “And don’t worry, you’re still my favorite bampire.”

***

Caught somewhere between awake and asleep, it took a moment for Willow’s presence to register on Spike’s consciousness. Eventually the persistent tapping on his arm brought him around.

“Spike! Spike! You have to wake up. Xander’s had an accident!” The little redhead’s voice was shrill and urgent.

The vampire silently thanked Buffy for insisting that he wear his jeans to bed. Wouldn’t want to traumatize the little kids. Naked adults and little children were unmixy things, to borrow a phrase from his favorite blonde.

He scooped the little girl into his arms and dashed upstairs, fully expecting to find Xander out cold on the floor and bleeding, or Angel attached to his neck. Something had panicked Willow enough to come downstairs to him, instead of heading to Tara or Buffy.

Rupert and Angel were on the floor, trying to calm Xander. The little brunet looked as if he were trying to melt into the wall, his brown eyes wild and unseeing.

Spike went to put Willow down on the bed… and realized what the problem was. Xander Lavelle Harris had wet the bed. Relieved that it was nothing more than a normal human issue, the vampire allowed himself to relax.

The question of the boy’s fear remained. He wasn’t merely afraid, he was terrified. What had a little one like this been through to be so fearful of an emptied bladder?

By this time, Buffy and Tara had trundled into the bedroom, awakened by the noise.

“Is e-everyone all right?” Tara desperately tried to stifle her yawning to concentrate on the children.

“Spike, what’s the matter with Xander? Why is he cowering in the corner like a trapped animal?” Buffy whispered, not wanting to alarm anyone.

“Seems the lad’s had a little leakage problem on the bed,” the blond confided. “Dunno why he’s carryin’ on like that. Why don’t you take the other kiddies into your room and keep ‘em calm. Someone here needs some alone time, an’ a bath.”

Looking at the frightened child in the corner, Spike shook his head. “You just know this is karma coming back to get me for playin’ doctor in the bath when we were tots, pet. Shouldn’t have expected less.”

“Call me if you need anything, Spike. I promise I’ll come and help you if it gets out of control.” Buffy assured him with a peck on the cheek. “In the meantime, Tara and I will settle the kids in with us, and clean up the bedding.”

“All right, kidlets.” Spike clapped his hands for attention. “Go with Tara an’ Buffy. I’ll bring the boy in when he’s calmer.”

Dropping to his knees in front of the boy, Spike tried to catch his attention. “C’mon, Xander… look at me. What’s got you so frightened?”

If anything, the boy pulled in tighter to himself, keening in abject terror.

With his enhanced hearing, the vampire could make out an almost silent litany of words. “It was an accident,” “I’m sorry,” “Daddy stop, it hurts.” The little one’s eyes locked on Spike’s own at the growl that escaped from deep within the vampire’s chest at the scenario he’d pieced together.

You can do this, mate. Think Drusilla. Decades of gentling the mad vampiress would certainly come in handy here.

“Nobody’s gonna hurt you, pet. Spike won’t let anyone hurt you,” he crooned, softly. “Let’s go get you washed up an’ into somethin’ clean.”

“Y-y-you’re not m-mad at me?” the little boy whimpered, still cringing away from even the most gentle touch.

“For what, pet? For peein’ the bed?”

Xander’s entire body shook at the words.

“You’re a little ‘un, Xander. Such things happen,” Spike soothed. “I promise you’ll stop wettin’ the bed when you grow up.”

“Not gonna h-hit me? Punish me?”

Spike smiled, knowing the crisis had eased enough if the boy could talk. “Not even gonna raise m’voice, boy. Now, take off your kit and let’s get you a quick dunk in the tub.”

The boy quickly stripped of his wet clothing and launched himself at Spike, wrapping his arms tightly around his neck and clinging like a little monkey. “Love you, Spike,” he whispered in the vampire’s ear.

***

In the morning, the young women made their way to the still darkened livingroom, gasping at the sight before them.

The coffee table had been moved, and blankets laid on the floor. Spike lay on his back, with Xander cuddled onto his chest, his little head resting under the vampire’s chin.

“One of you chits says anythin’ about this to anyone, an’ I’ll drain you to a husk.” One blue eye opened warily as Spike gently eased the boy onto the blankets.

Xander didn’t move a muscle as Spike swaddled him in the covers, using the old technique to keep him feeling secure. “That panic attack from last night might keep him out cold all day. Little one’s exhausted.”

“Did you find out what he was so afraid of?” Buffy sat on the floor watching the sleeping bundle of child. “I mean, it was only a wet bed, and the other kids weren’t making fun of him or threatening him.”

“Xander’s daddy used to hit him with his belt. ‘Specially when he was drunk,” Willow said as she came down the stairs, followed by the rest of the subdued troop. Obviously she’d told them the story of Mr. Tony Harris. “He used to come to my house when it got bad, and I’d fix up his boo boos. Sometimes it was really, really bad.”

Tara’s heart broke at the little one’s revelation. Five years old and they’d already been through so much. She’d lived that life, herself… always on the end of her father’s wrath. It didn’t matter if she hadn’t done anything wrong. The man’s lousy existence was cause enough to earn her a beating most days. “Poor Xander,” she whispered.

Buffy looked at the sleeping boy, then at Tara… to little Willow sitting anxiously by her friend, and finally, to Spike. “We’ll fix it,” she said with conviction. “I don’t know how, but we’ll make it right.”

Tara and Buffy scurried around the master bedroom, making it as child-safe as reasonably possible. Giles’ queen sized mattress would certainly be more comfortable for all four children to sleep on than the cold floor.

While Tara finished making the bed, Buffy went into the guest room to gather the children’s belongings. As she worked, she came across several folded pieces of drawing paper that had fallen out of Angel’s suitcase when she picked it up. For some reason, the papers unsettled her. Opening the first with shaky fingers, she had the oddest sense of déjà vu.

There was a pencil sketch of little Xander, huddled in the corner. It was rough, definitely drawn from a child’s hand, but the subject was one hundred percent identifiable.

Quickly, intrigued, she unfolded the other papers and found pictures of Willow reading a book, Rupert snooping through the drawers, and the last depicted the other three children sleeping. Angel must have been restless during the night, being on a vampire’s schedule. Odd, Buffy didn’t remember Spike having any kind of trouble like that.

Curious, Buffy took the sketches downstairs to show them to Spike. Clearly the artistic ability that Angelus displayed had its roots in Liam’s childhood. The boy was very talented.

Spike wasn’t surprised in the least by what Buffy had showed him. He’d figured Angelus’ talent had to have come from Liam a long time ago. “Did you make these drawings, mate?” he asked, figuring a little praise was in order.

The little vampire hung his head in shame, sheepishly acknowledging that the pictures were his.

“They’re very good, Angel,” Buffy soothed, lifting the boy’s trembling chin with her fingertips. “Don’t you think so?”

“Da used ta rip up me drawin’s. Said they were a waste of time when there was work ta be done. Said I shoulda been helpin’ me mother ‘stead of usin’ all the paper and charcoal for me scribblin’s.” Angel sniffled, his brogue becoming more pronounced with his distress.

Good grief, the blonde wondered. Were they all so screwed up as kids? By the end of the week, she’d have enough to write a book: The Effect of Childhood Trauma on the Adult Human or Vampire Psyche.

“Well, then it’s a good thing there’s no work to be done, honey,” Tara kneeled in front of the boy, taking his hands in hers. “You can draw as much and as often as you like.”

Angel’s face lit up. These people liked his pictures, and wanted him to make more? “Can I stay with you?” he whispered to Tara. “I like it here.”

Buffy smiled. The wish she bemoaned having made hours before was turning out to be a wonderful thing. It wasn’t just Spike, or even Angel… it was all of the transformed kiddies.

She’d been sure that her maternal instincts had been devoured by the Slayer in her. Buffy had never been comfortable around kids. Babysitting was something other girls did. Being an only child had been a good thing in her opinion, and she’d never asked her parents for a sibling. She’d been happy being Princess Buffy, the apple of Daddy’s eye and Mommy’s sweet girl, thank you.

That was, until the arguments started, and the screaming kept her up nights. Daddy stopped coming home for days at a time. And the worst of it was when the fighting started to center on her, each parent blaming the other for their daughter’s lousy behavior. By the time her parents finally divorced, Buffy swore she’d never, ever have children if there was even a hint of a possibility of hurting them like she’d been hurt.

But looking over at the table where a vampire and a witch were serving breakfast to kiddie versions of her mentor, her ex-lover and her two best friends, she knew her views on children had been changed forever. She just had to live long enough to do something real about it, first.

Xander’s call of “Let me help,” followed by the clatter of dishes and silverware to the floor, brought Buffy to the table. She was worried the little boy would have another panic attack, but Spike was already by his side.

“What happened, mate? Tried to carry everything all at once?”

He nodded, fear evident in his eyes, though it was nowhere near the panic levels of last night.

Spike laughed, clapping the child gently on the shoulder. “Good thing we used plastic plates and cups, then. It keeps you bitlets from getting hurt.” A gentle nudge brought Xander down from his chair. “Be a good lad now and help me get this mess into the kitchen, all right?”

Xander’s eyes sparkled as he picked up several dishes and ran them into the kitchen, then came back and did it again.

When the other children offered to help, Tara explained that it was something Xander needed to do by himself. Contented with that, one by one they walked away to do other things.

With the last of the mess finally thrown away, Xander ran over to Spike, hugging him around the legs. Unadulterated hero-worship lit up the little boy’s face. But when Spike tried to walk, Xander’s arms tightened around him until it became impossible to move without hurting the child.

“What’s with you, pup?” Spike chided, gently loosening the arms holding him prisoner. “You’ve got to let a bloke move about every now and then.”

Looking up into Spike’s amused eyes, Xander pleaded, “Can I stay with you? Forever and ever?” He raised his arms in the universal ‘pick me up’ gesture.

Spike gathered the boy up, settling him onto his strong shoulders. “How’s that, mate? A little piggy-back ride for the time being. Just you an’ me.”

Xander giggled, happy to be head and shoulders above everyone else, and so close to the nice man.

~*~

After dinner, the gang trooped off to the Ice Cream Emporium for a treat.

Rupert asked for a bowl of some apple-crumb concoction, Willow wanted orange sherbet, Xander insisted on ordering a banana split for himself – vowing to Spike that he would eat it all, and Angel claimed he didn’t want anything at all.

Buffy insisted on getting him a bowl of plain chocolate. “Just a little bit, Angel. I promise it’ll be better than anything you ever put in your mouth.”

“Uh-uh!” Angel shook his head back and forth, steadfastly refusing to try the dessert in his bowl. “Too cold,” he insisted, frowning as everyone laughed at him.

“C’mon, pet. I’ve never seen such a broody little bugger as you.” Spike tried to get a spoonful of ice cream and chocolate sauce into the little vampire’s mouth.

“Spike!” Buffy hissed. “Language! This is not the place for a potty mouth. There are other children present and we’re out in public.”

“Buffy!” he mocked. “This is chocolate ice cream! And I know just the place for it.”

Her eyes widened in horror. “Oh! You so wouldn’t dare, you… you… moron!” she shrieked, as the sweet confection suddenly landed on her nose.”

Spike had flicked his fully laden spoon in her direction.

Angel giggled. This was more like it. The stuff might be too cold for eating, but it made a great mess. Grabbing a spare spoon, he imitated the bigger vampire and splatted Willow with a glob of chocolate ice cream on her neck, whooping with delight as it melted and dripped.

Little Willow was not happy. Her parents didn’t even like it when her napkin got dirty. She attempted to wriggle out of the booth to keep herself neat and tidy when Buffy whispered something in her ear.

Horrified at the suggestion, the little redhead shook her head. “Nuh uh, and you can’t make me,” she whispered back.

When Buffy insisted that it would be all right, Willow smiled, then catching the infectious mood surrounding them all, picked up her bowl of sherbet and with a final glance in Buffy’s direction for approval, dumped the contents over Spike’s platinum hair.

At his undignified yelp, Willow tried to get away, but he caught her in his arms and shook like a terrier, spraying melted orange droplets everywhere. As he began to chortle, Willow relaxed, then doubled over in giggles when Spike started tickling her ribs.

Rupert joined the fray with several squeeze bottles of chocolate syrup and marshmallow sauce, squirting Spike and anyone else who came into his sights. Then, the little terror slipped under the table and climbed into the adjacent booth for a better angle, topping off the adults.

Tara, Buffy and Spike couldn’t believe the proprietors of the Emporium were nowhere to be found. Oh, what they must look like! The other patrons had formed a crowd, albeit at a respectful distance, and were cheering on the children, bringing over all sorts of things to add to the mess.

In the corner against the wall, Xander sat huddled over his banana split, gamely trying to finish it all. When all that was left were the sludgy remains and the maraschino cherries, the little boy scooped them out with his fingers and pelted the adults with the candied fruit.

Although it was fun, Buffy became more aware of her responsibilities when Angel slipped in the goo on the floor. Suddenly, it wasn’t so funny anymore. The children were unable to keep their footing in the melted ice cream, and it was time to get them cleaned up and home before someone got hurt.

Slowly and carefully, they picked their way through the mess and headed to the restrooms to wipe off as much of the muck as possible before heading home. Looking presentable was a lost cause.

As they approached the cashier on the way out they were told that dessert was on the house with the proviso that they never darken the Emporium’s doors again.

With a promise on their lips and a wave of hands, the gang left to the applause of their audience.

The complaints started immediately after breakfast:

“Buuu-ffy,” Rupert whined. “Willow keeps taking the books I want to read, and won’t give them back!”

“Spiii-ike,” Xander howled. “Rupert hid all of the cookies. He called me a piggie and kept oinking at me!”

“Taaaa-ra,” cried Willow. “Angel’s hogging all of the crayons, the big meanie!”

“Buffy, Buffy, Buuu-ffy,” Angel nagged. “Nobody will sit still and let me draw them.”

Buffy held her hands over her ears. The sheer racket created by four children whining at one time was about to break her where greater demons couldn’t. Something had to be done, and fast, before she lost what little was left of her already precarious sanity.

“Taaaa-ra,” she yelled over the children’s voices. “I think it’s time we break up the unholy Brady Bunch. How does a field trip to the library sound to you?”

The beleaguered young woman wrestled her way toward the livingroom with Willow in her arms and Xander pulling on her skirt. “Goddess, Buffy… getting out of the house sounds wonderful. But what about Angel?”

Buffy considered that. “I think we can handle him. Think you can handle three kids on your own?”

“How much trouble could they get into in a library?” Tara smiled, picturing a nice, peaceful couple of hours amongst the books and the quiet.

“Great. Then Spike and I will keep Angel entertained. God willing, we’ll figure out something to all do together once it gets dark.”

Tara gathered her charges together and herded them upstairs to get washed and dressed for their outing. After saying their goodbyes to Tara and her troop of mini-mites Spike and Buffy assured Angel that they would spend the next few hours any way he wanted.

Angel, however, sat himself down on the bottom step and pouted, looking for all the world as if he’d lost his best friend.

“What’s the matter, kiddo?” Buffy tried to catch the little boy’s interest, but he wouldn’t even look at her.

Spike knew. Knew what it felt like to be left out of the group – left behind. He picked the little dark-haired tyke up and settled him on his hip. “Don’t be so glum, mate. I can’t go with the others for the same reason as you… Mr. Sunshine makes us dusty.”

He slipped into gameface and snarled, giving Angel the vampiric equivalent of a raspberry on his belly. The little boy also dropped into gameface, growling back in-between giggles.

Buffy watched the interplay between the two vampires and smiled. Amazing what a little wish could do in eliminating over a century’s worth of hatred and antagonism. Now if only the lessons learned would stick when her friends returned to normal!

She did have hope. Things were certainly different between herself and Spike since their kiddie days. Okay, make that exceedingly different, if you want to count their shower interruptus from the other day. Would it really be too much to ask that her friends and possible, probable lover get along? For however long it lasted? For however long she lasted?

“So, l’il Fang, what’s your pleasure?” asked Spike, looking deeply into the small vampire’s amber gaze.

Angel brought his hand up to trace Spike’s furrowed brow ridges and frowned. “You an’ me have two faces. Does Buffy?”

“One word, Spike… just one word, and I can guarantee that raincheck we have for our interrupted shower will never, ever be cashed.” Hands on her hips, Buffy’s attitude and promise were very effective weapons in keeping the vampire’s mouth shut.

Nothing could stop him from chuckling, however. “Nah, pet. She’s only got the one pretty face you see before you,” Spike chortled. “You an’ me, we’re vampires… everyone else is human.”

“Can I touch?” Angel asked, reaching out for Buffy.” He ran his fingers gently over Buffy’s nose, cheeks, and forehead with his right hand, while continuing his examination of Spike’s face with his left.
“I want to draw you both. So I can remember everybody when Aunty Cordelia comes to take me home.”

Buffy clapped her hands with a sudden burst of enthusiasm. “Oh, Angel… you gave me a great idea! We can all go for a picture sitting at the mall. I think everybody would want to remember you, too.

Pleased that he gave Buffy a good idea, the little vampire turned his explorations to his own gameface, then his human mask. With a thoughtful expression, he said: “I wish I knew what my two faces look like. I can’t even comb my hair in the mirror. I look and look but I’m not there.”

“Well, we can fix that!” Rummaging around for her camera, Buffy took a half roll of pictures of Spike and Angel both in and out of gameface and promised to have them developed as soon as someone could get to the mall. Contented then, Angel spent the rest of the afternoon sketching Buffy and Spike, both posed and candid images, as they waited for their friends to come home from the library.

~*~

Sunnydale’s Wilkins Library was an imposing structure. In an attempt to imitate New York City’s 42nd Street Library, a pair of lions had been commissioned to stand guard on either side of the entrance. Unfortunately they looked more like gargoyles than lions, and most people shuddered subconsciously as they passed by.

Not mini-Giles. Running up to the lion on the right of the door, Rupert would not be cowed. He climbed up onto the stone animal’s back and beat at his little chest. “Grrrrrowr! I am the great hunter. All animals fear me as I tame this wild beast!” He jumped down from the lion’s back, and started to climb into its gaping maw.

Tara pulled him out by the seat of his pants. For some unknown reason, terror gripped at her, urging her to remove the boy from any possible danger. This was Sunnydale, after all. You never knew when the statuary would come to life and devour you.

Once inside, however, there was a relievingly different aesthetic. Warm and inviting, with lovingly polished woods and soft carpeting, especially in the children’s section. With deep gold carpeting and blond wood chairs, tables and shelves; the area practically glowed in invitation to sit and enjoy the books on display.

Tara led her charges to a small table and pulled out a small chair for each child. After searching through the shelves and calling out the names of several books, they all agreed on Wind in the Willows, because the name matched that of their friend. Willow climbed into Tara’s lap instead of staying on her chair, needing to be close to someone willing to give her the time of day.

THE Mole had been working very hard all the morning, spring-cleaning his little home. First with brooms, then with dusters; then on ladders and steps and chairs, with a brush and a pail of whitewash; till he had dust in his throat and eyes, and splashes of whitewash all over his black fur, and an aching back and weary arms.”

The little redhead sighed and snuggled into the warmth of her bosom, feeling safe and relaxed and wanted!

“ Spring was moving in the air above and in the earth below and around him, penetrating even his dark and lowly little house with its spirit of divine discontent and longing. It was small wonder, then, that he suddenly flung down his brush on the floor, said `Bother!'

She smiled down at the little redhead in her embrace. So sweet and innocent, and entirely happy with a few crumbs of affection and attention – no need to bend things to her will.

Tara looked up to see how the other children were enjoying her storytelling abilities. Hmm. Apparently, not so much. Xander was passed out with his head cradled in his arms on the table. Maybe Wind in the Willows wasn’t to everyone’s taste.

And Rupert was… missing. A quick, panicked glance around found the boy climbing the stacks, aiming for some Winnie the Pooh figurines on the top shelf.

Oh, for crying out loud. “Rupert! Get down from there!” Tara whispered harshly, pulling him down for the second time in less than an hour by the seat of his pants. “If you’re not interested in what I’m reading, go and pick out a book of your own.”

Annoyed, the little boy promptly threw a tantrum. “I’m bored!” he yelled, loudly enough to be shushed by some of the other nearby patrons. “The library is a place for Poofs! I hate books. They’re no fun and I want to go out and play, instead!”

“When it’s dark enough for Angel and Spike to go outside safely, we’ll all do something together,” Tara promised. “You’ll have all the fun you can handle. But for now, I need you to sit and behave. Can you do that for me?”

Disgusted, but mollified for the moment with the promise of some good, rowdy playtime, Rupert settled down at the table. He nestled his head in his hands as he listened to Tara continue reading, meek as a mouse – but unbeknownst to her, the tail end of the Piglet figurine from the display peeked out of his back pocket.

~*~

Watching Spike act all fatherly with a pint-sized Angel was creating havoc with Buffy’s emotions. Yes, she knew he was a vampire and unable to procreate… and vampire children remained children until they dusted… but there were other ways to have children in their lives, and where the hell had that thought come from?

Outside of a heated, hours long grope on a motorcycle and an almost touchy feely shower, they hadn’t even been intimate with each other yet, and there she was thinking of having children with him. Rushing things much?

Again her eyes strayed to the two vampires rolling all over the livingroom carpet. Angel’s drawings had finally been abandoned for the more manly pursuit of the tickle-fest going on now. It all seemed so normal. Well, normal for her, anyway.

Twenty two years old, and instead of being in college like normal girls her age, her life revolved around cemeteries, demons, and magicks that turned adults into children and back again. So maybe, just… maybe… thinking of a future with a vampire and kids wasn’t so outlandish after all.

Buffy’s thoughts were interrupted by a shriek of laughter from Angel, as Spike had found a particularly vulnerable spot in his ribcage. She sighed, deeply. They just didn’t make vampires like they used to.

~*~

After dinner, Tara explained her promise to Rupert, and the other children. Frazzled, she tried to be patient in explaining that they really needed a physical outlet for all of their energy. It was unnatural for children to be so housebound.

So, Buffy took the lead – and Giles’ credit card – and had Spike drive them all to WalMart. Scarily, she no longer had to ask where the kiddy sections were.

“I know you guys have been bored and tonight I want to change things. Anyone have idea on what they’d like to do? I know a place where we can run and play and get dirty and just have some real fun.”

“Can we get a ball to play catch?” Willow asked timidly; not wanting to ask for too much.

Rupert snorted. “Catch is for babies. I want something for bigger kids.”

“Catch is okay,” said Xander, secretly happy that Willow had picked something easy. He never was one for outdoor activities.

Noting a brightly colored display, Buffy felt inspired. “Tell you what, guys… why don’t you just trust Auntie Buffy and go back to the car with Tara. Spike and I will bring you all a nice surprise for our play date.”

Once the kids were out of sight, Buffy showed Spike the display of skates. “If this doesn’t tire them all out, nothing will. And look,” she said, holding out a pair of pink skates with daisies as decorations, “they’re all adjustable so we can’t mess up the sizes.”

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Spike challenged: “Think you can keep your luscious backside off the ground, Princess?”

“Better than you can, Bony Butt.”

“Care to wager, Slayer? Bet your ass will hit the ground more times than mine?”

Buffy giggled, finding the whole situation hysterical. “And just what’s at stake with this wager? Ooooh, I know,” she exclaimed, her eyes glittering with anticipation, “You’ll be my willing slave for a week. Cooking, washing, cleaning, bathing, massaging… and whatever other ‘ing I can think of. Acceptable?”

“And when I win?”

“Like that’s ever gonna happen.”

“Be that way, Slayer. But when I do win… what’s in it for me?”

With a swish of her hips and a saucy smile, Buffy tossed a pair of skates in her size into the cart. “Tell you what, Spike. Since I’m so sure you’re not gonna win, why don’t we name your stakes after the fact. Sort of anything goes?”

This was going to be fun. “You’re playin’ a dangerous game, pet. But I’ll bite. When I win, I’ll name my prize.”

~*~

The car pulled up to the USC track. Well lit despite being deserted, the track was the perfect place to keep the kiddies safely contained and entertained.

The children were thrilled with Buffy’s surprise gifts. Even little Willow’s eyes lit up when Tara laced up her daisy covered pink skates. She stood shakily, hanging onto Tara’s skirts with a deathgrip. Eventually, though, she was able to relax enough to skate slowly around the track on her own.

Rupert, Xander, and Angel chased Buffy around the track, shrieking with glee every time she doubled back and came up behind them. It wasn’t so much of a race as it was a test of endurance. Skate as hard and as long as you can, and stay up on your feet.

Having as much fun as the children, Spike skated circles around everyone; vampiric grace keeping him on his feet. He dropped his human mask and chased after each child, scooping them up in his arms and giving them a complete lap around the track. Their happy squeals echoed in the night.

Buffy kept a careful eye on her free-wheeling vampire. So far, neither one of them had fallen. Spike didn’t know of her ice skating background and the unfair advantage she was sure she’d have over him, but his natural grace seemed to translate well into his own ability to stay upright.

She took a break from chasing the boys around. They seemed to be happy skating on their own, with the occasional goose from Spike. As for Willow, after the first time Spike picked her up and she screamed in terror, his approach became much gentler, and eventually she stood in the middle of the track, awaiting his next pass.

After a few hours, Tara and Buffy found themselves sitting on the grass to one side, watching Spike still skating up a storm with the kids. Apparently, they weren’t the only ones with an overabundance of energy.

Tara sighed, rolling over onto her belly and propping her hands up to support her chin. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they? No hatred, no hostility, and most of all no prejudice.”

“Yeah,” Buffy agreed. “In a way, it’s a shame they couldn’t start all over again. We could give them the love and understanding they missed the first time around.”

“Well, we do have a couple more days with them. Maybe they’ll remember some of this when they’re back to themselves.” Tara took Buffy’s hand in hers and looked into her eyes. “After all, look at the differences in you and Spike. Neither one of you is the same since your childhood romp.”

“It’s something we can hope for, Tara. It certainly can’t be any worse than it was before my wish.”

Finally, the children were worn out, and ready to go home for a night’s sleep. Gathering everyone together for the car ride, Buffy’s thoughts were elsewhere as she was about to step into the car. To her surprise, she slipped - and fell.

Right in front of Spike!

Buffy sat where she had fallen, in shock. A whole evening of skating around in circles and showing off only to fall on her ass getting into the car.

“Need a lift up, pet?”

She looked up into a pair of sparkling blue eyes shining with mischief. Would she never learn to keep her mouth shut? Spike had the equivalent of an open check in the things he could demand of her, and Buffy had to admit to being nervous.

~*~

Day Four

Spike was making her very, very nervous. He’d won their skating bet, and as of yet had failed to name his ‘prize’. All he did was smile around her… that little half smirk/half melt-your-heart smile she’d begun to crave like the very air she breathed, and he didn’t.

Every time she broached the subject he’d smile, say “I’m thinkin’, pet” and walk away, chuckling to himself. She finally stopped asking, but every time he passed by, she felt a frisson of excitement run up her spine.

Just after sunset, Buffy, Spike, and Tara dragged a very surly group of children into Happy Time Photographers. They’d managed to get the last two appointments of the day, figuring that with so many children time would become an issue. Best of all, the photographers used digital cameras, which meant both Spike and Angel would show up

“Mr. & Mrs. Summers, I presume?” The manager beckoned for them to follow him. “Please bring the children this way.”

Tara snickered, earning her a quick glare from the faux-marrieds.

Before the little troop had traversed the small corridor to the back room, Xander pulled at Spike’s hand. “I have to go to the bathroom,” he whined, plaintively.

“Try and hold it in, mate,” the vampire said, figuring it was just another delaying tactic. Xander had gone twice before they left the house.

Angel picked up on the other boy’s whining and complained: “Buffy, my pants are itchy and this collar is too tight.” Running his finger under the collar, he popped the top button. “See?”

“I don’t want my picture taken. I wanna go skating again,” Rupert yelled, his voice carrying far too well in the little hallway. “Buffy, let go of me…” The little boy tried to pull his hand out of Buffy’s. “I want Spike. He’s more fun than you.”

Sensing Willow’s distress at the boys’ behavior, Tara picked the little girl up, hoping to forestall any hysterics on her part. “It’s all right, sweetie,” she soothed when the redhead began to squirm in her arms. “Just a few pictures, and we’ll all go do something fun. I promise.”

All she received for her troubles was a quiet sob… and a wet arm, as Willow’s bladder let go.

“Oh, Willow! Why didn’t you tell me you had to go to the bathroom?”

“Spike wouldn’t let Xander go… and I didn’t want anyone to be mad at me,” she sniffled.

Hearing Willow’s tearful admission, Spike hurriedly shuttled Xander to the men’s room, not willing to take the chance he was playing around anymore.

“People, please,” the manager begged. “The staff would like to go home sometime tonight to their own children...” Noting the puddle on the floor he sighed, wondering for the fifth time today why he ever left the Department of Motor Vehicles to photograph children.

“Look, lady… take the little one and dry her off. We have a box of clothing she can choose something from that’s clean and dry.” Eyeing Tara’s sodden outfit, he offered: “We also have some adult sized clothes in the lost and found you might want to check out.”

It took another fifteen minutes before everyone was clean, dry and somewhat willing to be posed for the first of their portraits. Tara found an Indian patterned skirt and a sweater… very much in keeping with her taste in clothes.

Willow agreed to wear a pair of purple Oshkosh b’gosh overalls with a fuzzy pink sweater over the bib. It wasn’t her pretty new dress, but she declared it more “comfable” and was satisfied with her choice.

The first set up was simple: three chairs for the adults, laps for the children. Spike had Angel on one knee and Xander on the other. Tara held Willow on his right side. Buffy held Rupert on his left.

Mr. Bill, the photographer, was pleased with what he saw through the viewfinder, and took his first two shots before asking his subjects to smile for the camera. And then all hell exploded.

Angel scrambled off of Spike’s lap and pulled Rupert down from Buffy’s knee. Xander decided he liked Spike’s shoulders more than his lap, and scooted to his new perch like a little monkey. Rupert announced he liked Tara’s lap better than Buffy’s because her boobies were softer to lean on. Willow wasn’t happy about sharing Tara’s lap and pulled Rupert’s hair when his back was turned. Angel, who’d set the whole fracas in motion, climbed onto Buffy’s lap and sat stock still, looking, well, angelic.

Tara smiled, letting loose a deep belly laugh the likes of which nobody could ever have conceived her capable of. It dislodged both children from her lap. Buffy joined in, tears of mirth streaming from her eyes. Spike just reared back and howled with glee, Xander holding onto his hair with both fists for all he was worth.

The photographer was in no hurry to reprimand his customers. He’d already gotten his money shots, had less than a half hour before he closed up the shop and would leave the cleanup of the studio to the morning crew. Besides, Mr. Bill enjoyed the sounds of merriment coming from his patrons. All too often he was faced with screaming, stubborn children he couldn’t get a smile out of if his life depended on it.

He snapped away, taking candid shots until only five minutes remained. “Look this way, folks,” he called, capturing everyone’s attention as he took the final pictures. “I do believe we’re done for this session. Your photos will be ready early next week. Just come on in with your receipt and you can pick the package that suits your needs. We just need a small, refundable deposit to hold them.”

Buffy opened her purse, exchanging receipt for cash. “Thanks for putting up with us, Mister. The kids had been cooped up for far too long and I guess their energy levels just skyrocketed.”

Mr. Bill nodded as he gently but firmly ushered the troop from the studio, thrilled to be going home at last.

~*~

Day Five

It seemed the honeymoon phase between the boy and his vampire was finally over. Xander was unhappy. He wanted to go outside and play in the yard while the sun was shining. He pouted and sulked but to no avail. Spike wasn’t able to go with him, so he was stuck in the house.

“Pleeeeese! I won’t go far away,” Xander wheedled, turning his puppy-dog eyes on the beleaguered vampire. “You can watch me from the window.”

Spike was adamant in his refusal. “Listen to me, pet. When Buffy and Tara come back from the market, they can take you out, yeah? I can’t take the chance that you or one of the others’ll need me and I’ll be stuck hidin’ from Mr. Sunshine. I know it doesn’t seem fair to you, but they’ll be home, soon, an’ you can play then.”

Xander stomped off, unmollified. “You’re a meanie, and… and… I’m not gonna talk to you anymore all day,” he shot back over his shoulder. “Poopy head vampire.”

Satisfied that he’d gotten his point across, Spike sat on the sofa, closing his eyes, but keeping tabs on Xander, Willow, and Angel. Vampire hearing was a good babysitter’s best friend.

It came as quite a surprise when he came to, with Angel pulling on his sleeve to catch his attention.

“Spike! Spike! Wake up.”

“Keep your kit on, mate. What’s up?”

“It’s Xander... and he took Willow, too.”

Shit. Spike instinctively turned around and sure enough, the front door was wide open. Getting as close as he dared, Spike quickly spied the missing children playing ball on the front lawn. It was all innocent enough, but he felt a moment of panic at the thought of having to explain to Buffy how they’d gotten away from him. What if something happened to her friends before they reverted to their adult selves?

All right, it would break his own heart if something happened to the little ones.

“Xander, Willow… get your bloody behinds back in the house.” Great! Now I sound like a soddin’ mum.”

“Nuh uh, Mr. Poopy-Pire,” Xander yelled as he ran to the sidewalk in front of the house. “I can stay here all day and you can’t get me.”

With a sinking feeling in his gut, Spike watched as the little boy continued to walk backwards, slowly, sticking out his tongue in defiance.

“Last time m’gonna tell you, boy. Get yourself inside before…”

Obviously scared by Spike’s yelling, Willow ran past him into the house. She might have been brave enough to slip past the sleeping vampire, but couldn’t stand up to him in Papa Bear mode.

Xander, unfortunately, had no such problems as he continued his backwards journey… straight into the street.

Spike felt the force of the sunlight even from the protection of the shadows inside the house, and took a few shallow breaths to steady himself. Grabbing the blanket kept by the door, he made a mad dash out to grab Xander around the waist and haul him over his shoulders.

What he hadn’t expected was for the child to pull at the blanket in protest. By the time they’d gotten safely indoors, Spike’s arms were blistered and oozing. He tumbled Xander onto the couch and headed for the stairs.

“Don’t move from that spot, you stupid little bugger,” Spike barked, his words harsh with fear and pain from his burns, and not a little anger. “Got to go upstairs an’ take care of m’arms.” One last glare at Xander, and Spike was slightly mollified to see the boy flinch at the mention of his injuries.

***

Buffy and Tara arrived home from shopping with Rupert glowering between them, to a house that was eerily quiet. Angel and Willow were sitting quietly on the floor by the couch, where Spike was curled up, holding his bandaged arms close to his body.

Putting her packages down and letting Tara take the children in hand, Buffy knelt down and gently stroked her fingers through Spike’s hair.

“Hey, cutie,” she murmured softly. “What happened? Is everyone okay?”

Spike groaned and rolled over to face her. “Had a spot of difference with m’shadow. He wanted to play outside an’ I told him no.”

“And he snuck out, huh?”

“Grabbed little Red and hit the front yard while my eyes were closed. Never expected him t’open the door and disobey…”

Buffy couldn’t help herself. The smile she’d tried to hide burst out into giggles. “Gods, Spike. The first rule of babysitting is never tell a kid he can’t do something. It’s like waving a red flag in front of a bull.”

“Yeah, an’ when I pulled the little bullock out of the street before the car could hit ‘im, he tried to yank the blanket off me and nearly toasted his old pal Spike.”

Taking hold of his hands, Buffy looked into his eyes. “Poor baby,” she soothed. “Want Nurse Buffy to make you feel all better?”

“Cruel to tease the injured vamp, love, what with the munchkins roaming about. I’ll have to remind Nurse Buffy of her duty once things are back to normal.”

She pouted, her lower lip jutting just enough to draw Spike’s attention. “But your arms will be healed up by then. Whatever will I have to kiss and make all better?”

beat

His expression was priceless.

“Ha! Speechless! And they said it couldn’t be done.” Buffy doubled over with laughter. “Rendered powerless by my mouth alone… and… and I think I’d better stop while I’m ahead.” She buried her face in her arms, blushing furiously at her out of control comments.

“Right fetching when you blush, love,” Spike drawled, flinching as he reached out to stroke Buffy’s pinkened cheek. “An’ I’d love to test out Nurse Buffy’s bedside manner, but…”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Parenthood does have its downside, doesn’t it?”

Tara softly cleared her throat to announce her presence. “Um, guys? I think we have a little problem. Xander’s missing. A-and it’s not that I want to point fingers, but Willow seems to think it’s partly because Spike yelled at him.”

“Tara!” Rupert called from the top of the stairs. “Angel found him hiding in the attic and he won’t open the door. Even Willow can’t make him open it. You’d better hurry before Angel pulls the door off.”

“At least he’s still in the house,” Buffy grumbled. “So, Big Bad, who’s gonna try and talk Xander out of the attic without removing or smashing down the door which would involve costly repairs to Rup… um, to Giles’ house that we can’t possibly afford when things get back to normal and he sees his credit card bill?”

***

Spike stood outside the attic door, listening to the boy’s dejected sniffles.

“C’mon, pet. Be a good lad an’ open the door. Your mates are getting lonely.”

“Nuh uh. **sniffle** Not gonna come out. You’re gonna yell again.”

“I won’t yell, Xander. M’not mad anymore,” Spike promised. “Just open the lock and come out.”

Even with his enhanced hearing, Spike was hard pressed to hear the little boy’s words through his tears. He was back to chanting “I’m sorry” over and over again and rocking against the door.

Buffy said she didn’t want the door broken down, but she didn’t say anything about tinkering with the lock. A minute later, he had the door opened and a sobbing boy held tightly against his chest.

“Shush, little one,” he soothed, ignoring his aching limbs as the boy’s weight settled onto his burnt arms. “S’all right now. Think you can use a good nap an’ we’ll talk, you an’ me. Later.”

As Xander settled into bed, he still muttered softly only the words had changed. “Bad Xander. Stupid Xander.”

Spike felt exactly three inches high. Father of the year material he certainly wasn’t, and now he’d pretty much shot his creds for being Uncle Spike right down the loo.

He sat on the bed, smoothing the curls from Xander’s forehead, willing peace to settle on the lad. “You’re not stupid, boy. You scared me and I said something I shouldn’t’ve. I’m sorry.” Spike gently wiped the tears from Xander’s eyes with his thumbs. “Sleep now,” he murmured, and quietly closed the door behind him.

And promptly walked straight into Buffy.

“You know you’ve just risen in rank to head Big Bad Mush, Spike,” she cajoled, eyes bright with affection. “I was coming up to check on you two, and heard the last part. I really hope he remembers this week.”

“Yeah, love. It’s bound to be interesting.”

Day Six

After making up with Spike, yesterday, Xander’s mood lightened as the day wore on. He was back to being best buddies with the vampire and he could scarcely contain himself as plans were made for a Bugs Bunny cartoon festival at the Sun Theater when it got dark.

The only fly in the ointment was Angel. He sat in the middle of the bed and pouted, insisting he didn’t want to see a “moo-vie.” No amount of cajoling would get the little vampire to agree to the outing

Going by intuition, Tara approached the matter from a different direction. No more begging, bribing or pleading.

“I’m really surprised you’re not the first in line to go see the cartoons, Angel,” she said, shaking her head in dismay. “After all, there are so many drawings that went into making them.”

The little brunet’s ears pricked up at the mention of drawings, much as Tara knew they would.

“Someone holds up all the different drawings?” Angel’s eyes glittered at the thought.

Now, how to explain cartoons so he’ll understand. This would be so much easier if these children remembered their regular lives with any kind of consistency. “Can I borrow your papers and a pencil for a minute?”

Angel scampered off the bed to retrieve his things from the bookcase. “You want to draw my picture? Nobody ever did that before.”

Tara blushed. He really did have a beautiful little face. And those eyes were soul stealers. How could anyone refuse him anything?

“Sorry, hon. My drawing skills leave a lot to be desired, but I can show you why movies are called moving pictures.” She proceeded to draw circles of varying sizes on the corners of the pad. Patting the bed besides her, Tara urged Angel to sit at her side.

“Now watch the circles closely, Angel,” she said as she thumbed through the pad slowly at first, picking up a little speed as she went on.

“Oh, look! The circles are bouncing.” Angel was entranced. “Do it again, please?” he begged, bouncing up and down in his excitement.

Brava, girl. Looks like we’ll be a full complement at the theater this evening after all. Sure, hon. See? If you draw the circles in a slightly different position each time, they seem to move. And if you have enough pictures… you can make them do anything you want.”

“In this movie… will there be more than circles bouncing?”

Tara smiled. “Ever so much more than circles. I promise.” Ruffling his hair, she sent the little vampire downstairs to join the rest of the group, Watch out, Sun Theater. Here we come.

~*~

Anticipation ran high in the nearly empty theater as the children were settled into their seats. They were so excited that they didn’t even fight about who sat next to whom. Xander and Willow shared a large bucket of buttery popcorn. Rupert was busy with a big bag of strawberry licorice, and Angel was satisfied with a large soda.

Spike, Buffy and Tara sat a row behind the children, all the better to keep an eye on their charges. Once the lights went down, Tara found herself relieved to have chosen the aisle seat, as her companions made with the smoochies. With a mischievous giggle, she poked Buffy in the back, repeatedly, until the blonde finally acknowledged her.

“Wha… huh?”

She’s glowing, Tara sighed, happily, taking in Buffy’s appearance. Her sparkling hazel eyes and flushed cheeks made her look like a teenager caught necking. Which she sorta was, without actually being a teenager anymore. She hoped this wouldn’t all disappear once the enchantment on their friends was broken tomorrow.

“I just wanted to let you guys know I’ll keep an eye on the kids. Just go on with…with what you’re doing.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n.” Spike laughed, pulling Buffy closer to himself. “You heard the good witch, love. Nibblets are all watchin’ the flick and taken care of. Pucker up now and give us a kiss all good n’not so proper.”

Buffy groaned as he nuzzled her neck. “Gods, Spike. What is it with you and necks?”

“Vampire, pet. Or have you forgotten?” He flashed amber eyes and fangs, nipping her ear lobe before changing back.

“Never,” she whispered, grabbing his face in her hands. “Just do it again.”

Spike had no problem complying. “As my Slayer wishes.”

Tara averted her eyes, peeking over the row of seats in front of her.

Willow sat with her feet scrunched up under her, avidly watching the animated antics of Bugs and Elmer chasing each other; dipping her hand into the popcorn bucket absentmindedly. Xander double-fisted the buttery treat, barely paying attention to the screen.

“Stop it, Will,” he hissed, smacking her hand away. “You’re gonna eat it all up and there won’t be enough left for me.”

Willow snorted. “There’s plenty there, Xander Harris. If you wouldn’t be such a piggy, we could share it with everybody.” She threw a few pieces down the row at the other kids. “Anyone want some popcorn before Mr. Greedy eats it all up?”

“Nuh uh.” Rupert refused, offering his licorice instead like a little gentleman. “It’s got his bloody spit all over it. How about you, Angel?” He nudged the little vampire with his elbow.

Angel sat, eyes riveted to the screen as he watched the characters’ antics. Unwilling to take his gaze from the screen, he shook his head no when Rupert poked him again.

“Don’t say I din’t ask you guys,” the little redhead harrumphed, sticking her hand back in the greasy bucket in spite of Xander’s protests.

Tara spent the remainder of the movie transporting first one child, then another to the bathroom and the snack bar. The list of goodies was staggering. More sodas, hot dogs, ice cream, peppermints, and a big giant pretzel for them all to share. Finally, she had to put her foot down.

“That’s enough, guys. As it is, I doubt we’ll be having anything for dinner. And maybe not for breakfast, either. Now hush and watch the end of the movie.”

~*~

The ride home was rather subdued. Rupert and Willow cuddled against Tara in the back seat, Xander curled into the door, and Angel insisted on sitting on Buffy’s lap.

“Little git better remember his place when all this is over, Slayer,” Spike growled, his unhappiness with Angel’s position clear to everyone in the car.

“Do you really trust me so little, Spike? After being in my face for the last two hours, I’m back to being ‘Slayer’ in your mind?” Buffy kept her voice low, not wanting to upset the little one on her lap.

“It’s not you I don’t trust, love,” he whined, looking just as cute as any of the younger set. “S’just that this closeness we have is so new, and they’ll all be back to what passes for normal tomorrow. I don’ want to lose…”

Buffy rested her hand on Spike’s thigh, gently stroking the well-muscled limb. “Hush, you. What makes you think things’ll change? I didn’t let them after our stint in kiddyland, and I won’t after theirs. Besides…” she grinned, poking the vampire in the ribs. “…you still have your winning bet to collect, right? I hope didn’t fall on my ass for nothing.”

“Din’t forget, Buffy. Guess I’m bein’ a might foolish, but this thing between us… s’better than the way things used to be, innit?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Then let’s get the little buggers into bed, and we’ll see just what we really do have between us. Sound good?”

She smiled to herself, letting his question go unanswered for the moment. It was one thing to be spontaneous… and another to actually get into bed and ‘do it’.

They turned into the driveway and hustled the sleepy children inside.

~*~

Spike was in the middle of the most marvelous dream. He and Buffy had made passionate love for several hours to the point of exhaustion. They lay cuddled together on a nest of blankets they’d strewn on the floor for comfort. It was so real he could feel the weight of her warm body against his. Smell the lingering scent of their combined essences. He instinctively tightened his arms, praying to hold onto the dream for a moment longer – knowing it would prove the fallacy of the illusion when he closed his arms around… Buffy?

Bloody hell, she was there. As real in his arms as she was in his dream.

“Ow, Spike. Ease up, willya?” she grumbled, turning over to nuzzle into his chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Before he had time to revel in his dream-come-true, one of their little charges decided to wake him up in a less than glorious manner.

“Spike, Spike! Wake up,” little Rupert insisted, pulling on the vampire’s hair until he sat up, regretfully letting go of Buffy.

“The house had better be burnin’, mate. It’s a mite late for you to be out of bed.”

“I don’t feel good, Spike. Can I sleep with you? And Buffy?” he added, peering over Spike’s shoulder.

“Will it get you to be quiet an’ give us some more sleep time?”

Rupert nodded, and crawled on top of the covers. Spike made sure he stayed on his side, considering both he and Buffy weren’t exactly expecting company. Thinking the matter dealt with, he settled back into sleep; a warm body on either side of him.

Not more than fifteen minutes later, it started again.

“Spike, wake up. I don’t feel so good.”

“Oi, mate. Hush now, or you’ll wake Buffy.” He patted the covers besides himself. “C’mon now and go back to sleep, that’s a good lad.”

“My tummy feels all wobbly, Spike,” Rupert whined. “It’s making noises.”

“Are you sure?”

Spike didn’t have time to get out of the way. Rupert’s stomach emptied right where he stood – over the vampire’s pillow.

“I told you I didn’t feel well,” the little boy sobbed, and vomited again.

“S’alright, pet. I believe you.” As he rooted around the blankets for his pants, he realized Buffy was up as well.

“Take him upstairs and get him into a bath, Spike. It’s probably all that crap we let them eat at the movies.” Buffy wrapped the clean end of the blanket around herself. “I’ll get dressed and make some tea to try and settle his tummy so we can all go back to sleep.”

Already splattered in the remnants of the movie feast, Spike picked Rupert up and sprinted up the stairs. “I really hope you remember what a patient and understanding fellow I can be, old man.” At Rupert’s nod, Spike said: “And I promise to listen the next time you tell me you’re not feelin’ right.”

This time, when the little face before him turned a deeper shade of green, Spike was ready. He held him over the toilet and let him rip.

~*~

By the time he headed downstairs, Spike’s little entourage had increased by three. While Rupert was getting cleaned up in the bath, Xander and Willow took turns anointing the toilet with their own overindulgences.

One more heave an’ I’m gonna do something I haven’t in a hundred and twenty five bloody years.

Angel, on the other hand, wasn’t sick. He just didn’t want to be left out.

“Oi, Buffy,” Spike called out halfway down the stairs. “Hope you made plenty ‘cause we have the whole upchuckin’ bunch.”

A bleary eyed Tara appeared behind him. “I’ll clean up the bathroom, Spike. Seems as if you have your hands full.”

“Not to mention m’blanket downstairs, Tara-love. Rupert sought fit to christen it earlier,” he grumbled, and headed for the kitchen.

~*~

Day Seven

The morning was spent ministering to three very cranky children. Four, actually, if you counted Angel. Just because he wasn’t sick didn’t mean he didn’t want his fair share of attention.

“My god, Spike,” Buffy panted as she pulled the vampire aside. “I don’t know how the hell my mother survived my childhood. “These guys are gonna be the death of me. Just one more…”

“Buuuuffy,” Rupert called from the bedroom. “More tea would be smashing. It makes me feel aaaall better.”

“One, two… wait for it,” she whispered, not moving from the spot.

“Buuuuffy, can I have some ging’rale? I’m tired of having tea,” Willow whined. “And some chicken soup, like my Bubbe makes?”

Burying her face in Spike’s t-shirt, she mumbled, “One more… I know it’s coming.”

“Buuuuffy, I’m feeling better. Can I have some twinkies?” Xander begged. “I’m all empty now, I promise.”

“Sit, love. I’ll get the little moochers their goodies.” Spike stroked her hair as Buffy slid down the wall, shoulders rigid with tension. “Hey, Angel. Anythin’ you want, mate? You’re the only country not been heard from.”

Angel slipped out of the bedroom, stepping over Buffy’s prone form with a funny look on his face. “Is she okay, Spike? She don’t look too good.”

“Just tired, mate. Let’s you an’ me head down to the kitchen and bring back what the mob is callin’ for. Buffy’ll get up when she’s ready. Xander,” he called as he walked down the stairs. “You can forget those bloody twinkies.”

~*~

A loud, baritone ‘Oh, dear Lord’ was heard coming from the upstairs bedroom, followed by several unmanly squeaks and the shuffle of not so little feet and slamming doors.

Buffy looked at her companions with a deep sigh of relief. “It’s over, isn’t it? Really and truly over?”

“No more emergency potty runs or cleaning up somebody else’s vomit,” Tara agreed. “It’ll be nice to have some alone time, I think. Children are definitely not on my immediate agenda.”

Spike remained silent, sitting on the couch with his eyes shut and his head down.

“What’sa matter, Big Bad? Gonna miss the kiddies?” Buffy tried her best to lighten his mood, but to no avail.

The vampire’s shoulders slumped even further.

“Oh, Spike,” Tara patted him gently on the back. “It’ll be all right. At least you’ll still have Buffy and me. It won’t go back to the way things were.”

They all looked up when Xander came thundering down the stairs.

“Gotta go,” he muttered, not looking at anyone in the face, and slammed out the front door.

Willow followed shortly after, not saying a single word as she slipped out the kitchen entrance.

Last down the stairs were Giles and Angel, both looking a little embarrassed.

“Yes, right,” Giles murmured, looking at the exhausted trio on his couch. “If you don’t mind, I believe I’ll make some more tea for myself. This business of growing up in mere minutes is a mite unsettling; as I’m sure you’ll both remember.”

Angel stared at the floor, mumbled something about calling Cordelia, and then followed Giles into the kitchen.

Buffy and Tara giggled at the soft-spoken ‘Pouf’ they heard from their otherwise silent vampire.

Okay… the party’s over and most of the guests have gone home. Now what?

Buffy smiled as Tara leaned over to wrap her arms around Spike’s shoulders in a firm hug. As the gentle woman headed towards the kitchen, Buffy realized some things had really changed. Spike was no longer ‘hers’ alone – to dislike or to care for. While Tara had always held some sort of affection for the ornery vampire, she was no longer afraid to show it to either him or anybody else.

“Hey, Big Bad,” she said softly when Spike continued his dare she even think it? brooding. “Wanna tell Mama what’s bothering you?”

“Now that’s just disturbin’, Slayer, no matter what age I might be.” Spike sighed, still refusing to lift his head and look at her. “S’just… to borrow a phrase from a not-so-old tune… where do we go from here?”

Buffy’s mood shifted from playful to floored in the blink of an eye. “Are you actually worried about me? I thought I made it clear that I was willing… that I wanted to see what we could be to each other. In fact,” she said, pulling Spike closer to her by fistfuls of his tee shirt, “I said it in front of Giles and Tara. No more hidey-Buffy. And no more hidey-Spike, either.”

“Not worried ‘bout you changin’ your mind, pet.” The vampire eased out of her grasp, settling Buffy back onto the couch. “This past week has been illuminating in lots’ve different ways. Got to see you as a mum, for one. It’s a good look on you – carin’ for kidlets.”

A blush arose on Buffy’s cheeks at his compliment. “I-I was sure I’d never want kids. I even refused to babysit ‘cause I thought I’d be so bad at it.”

“Don’ let anyone tell you different, Buffy. It’s not easy, but you did a hell of a job with your friends.”

“I didn’t do it by myself, you know. I wouldn’t have been able to manage half as well without Tara and you.” She batted at his shoulder, smiling at her memories. “You are so Marshmallow Fluff guy. Xander had you wrapped around his little finger. And let’s not forget Angel.”

“Yes, let’s, pet. Let’s forget all about baby Peaches and the tot brigade.” An expression of loss passed fleetingly across Spike’s face. He made a vain attempt at salvaging his usual arrogance by wiping his eyes surreptitiously. “They’re gone now, and in their place are the gits that…”

“That made your life miserable,” Buffy finished with some understanding of his attitude. “Oh, Spike. You’re gonna miss the kids, aren’t you?”

“It’s not just that I’ll miss them… an’ if you tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny it,” he huffed, trying hard for his Big Bad persona and failing, miserably. “Now that I’ve seen you with little ones…” He threw his hands up in frustration, muscle ticking wildly in his jaw. “How can I ever give you that, Buffy? And how can I deny you?”

“D’ya think we could actually go out as a couple before you have me all Mother Goosey? I mean, I understand the missage,” Buffy sighed. “They were so much sweeter as kids than as adults and they tended to listen to me every now and again. But that doesn’t mean it’s something to worry about right now.” Buffy stroked Spike’s nape gently, enjoying the way he leant into her touch; relaxing. “Besides, you can’t not give me something I wasn’t planning on having anyway.”

Buffy watched as Spike closed his eyes, letting his emotions wash through him. Again, she marveled at how she’d ever thought this vampire had no heart?

“Not good enough, love,” he murmured. “Not by half.”

With a tenderness she’d only just rediscovered, Buffy pressed a kiss to his lips, silencing his doubts and insecurities.

“If I say you’re good enough, then you’re good enough, silly bampire.” She yanked his arm in a well-practiced move, pulling Spike off the couch. “Why don’t we go see what the kitchen bunch is up to? Maybe they’ve all turned into mushrooms by now. Or… or…”

Spike fought the grin trying to appear on his face. “How ‘bout toads? We could keep ‘em all locked up in a terrarium. No more late night Wal-Mart runs.”

“Oh, God! Giles is gonna have a cow when he opens his next credit card bill,” Buffy groaned. “That’s it… this time I’m serious. Let’s go find another Framey demon. Giles wouldn’t hit a defenseless little girl, would he?”

Spike just smiled as they walked out of the room.

~*~

“So, mates. How’s it feel to be a couple of old farts again?” Spike came out swinging, figuring the best offence, blah, blah, blah. He wasn’t overly worried about the Watcher, but his Sire could be a volatile creature, and given the changes he’d just been through...

Angel grumbled, staring down at his now-empty mug of blood. “Let it go, Spike. Can’t I just sit here in peace until Cordy comes to pick me up?”

“Knew you’d be back to your broody self in no time.”

“Boys,” Tara soothed, coming over to the table. “Haven’t we had enough childish behavior to last us for awhile?”

“Bloody git started it, Tara. M’tired of…”

“Spike!”

He rolled his eyes, but gave in without another word. “Yes, Mum. I’ll be a good lad, Mum. No spankin’ for… What’s this?” He reached into the waste basket and pulled up young Angel’s drawings. “Why’d you toss the sketches?”

“Leave them, Spike. They’re… they’re nothing but a little boy’s scribblings.” Angel refused to look at anyone; apparently the openness he’d shown as a child was a thing of the past. “The boy’s gone. Was nothing more than spell-based nonsense, and so are those.”

Buffy gasped, yanking the drawings away from Spike. “Don’t you dare throw these out, Angel. How could you? These are precious. Something we’ll never have a chance to experience again. Probably.”

“Look,” he growled, lunging for the papers in her hand. “I just told the bleached pest, and I’m telling you… they’re nothing but garbage.”

With a ballerina-like pirouette, Buffy managed to evade the large vampire’s grasping hands by ducking under his arms. “Nuh uh. I’m gonna keep ‘em. At least this time your drawings aren’t followed by dead bodies or threats. I like them.”

“It wasn’t so bad, you git – bein’ a kiddy an’ all.” Spike’s hand fell on Angel’s shoulder, trying for a moment of what passed like peace between them. “You were a cute li’l bugger. An’ rather ticklish, if I recall.” He grinned, watching the older vampire twitch. He should have known better than to tease, however.

“All right, sonny boy. You’re so fond of remembering, are you?” Angel leered. “I seem to remember someone purring against my chest as he fed…”

Spike threw up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Fine. You win. The past is the past an’ I won’t be bringin’ it up again. But I still say Buffy’s right. Keep the piccies. You may not want ‘em now, but I’d lay odds that you will, one day.”

A small peck on the cheek was Spike’s reward from Buffy, before she took the drawings and put them away in Giles’ desk for safekeeping.

Angel grumbled, but he let Buffy keep the images, sitting back down with his head in his hands. “Where the hell is Cordelia with the damned car, already?”

“She won’t be here for several hours, Angel,” Buffy said softly. Why don’t you go rest upstairs and we’ll call you when she gets here?”

He left without an argument.

~*~

Buffy walked in on Angel – unannounced. She’d obviously startled him, watching with amusement as he tried to hide the sketchpad and pencils behind his back.

“I thought you came up here for a little rest.” She smiled, trying to peek behind his back. “What’re you hiding?”

“Nothing. I’m not hiding anything.”

As her well-sculpted eyebrow rose in disbelief, Angel relented.

“Fine, so maybe I’m hiding a little something.” He pulled out the pad and handed it over with a grimace.

“Oh, Angel. These are beautiful.”

Buffy was amazed as the images came into view. Angel had done detailed character studies of everyone except himself as children. Little Wills and Buffys laughing, sleeping, eating breakfast… every expression captured for posterity. Images of little Willow, Rupert and Xander… skating, at the Ice Cream Emporium, and playing around the house filled the other pages. Tears filled her eyes as she looked up at him.

“They’re perfect,” she sniffled, hugging the vampire as his sat there, stiff as a board. “Thank you, Angel.”

“They’re not too much,” he demurred. “It helps having a photographic memory for details.”

She shook her head in disagreement. “You don’t understand. They’re probably the only children I’ll ever have. These pictures mean everything to me, especially since you drew them.” Buffy held the papers to her chest, smiling wistfully. “But you’re still hiding some. Can I see?”

“Sorry, Buffy. These aren’t for you.”

”But…” She pouted, turning on the eyes of doom that no male had been able to resist since the first time she was five years old. “Please, Angel? Lemme see.”

Angel finally relaxed enough to smile at his one-time girl. “That hasn’t worked on me since… well, last week, anyway.” He handed her the remaining drawings he’d held back.

The first was a group photo of all the children. “That’s for Giles. I thought he’d enjoy a family portrait, even though you weren’t all kids at the same time.”

The second was Tara, holding little Willow on her lap. Sort of a modern-day Madonna and child. “I figured even if they don’t get back together, she’d enjoy the memory.”

The next drawing showed Spike caught in a moment of pure joy; his head thrown back, laughing with delight over something unseen. “I don’t recall the last time I’d seen him so carefree, Buffy. I was going to keep this one for myself, but you can have it if you want.”

Realizing how big a deal it was for Angel to admit wanting any reminder of Spike around, she refused his generous offer, turning to the last drawing in the pile. Her hand flew to her mouth, trying to stifle the sobs welling up in her throat.

Little Will and little Buffy cuddled up together on Giles’ guest bed. The detail was extraordinary. Light, shadows, down to the wrinkles in their cotton jimmies; the way Buffy’s little pinky toe crooked where it caught the blanket.

“You were gonna keep this one, too?” Buffy looked up at him with tear filled eyes.

“When you and Spike came to my office last week, I saw it. Saw that I’d lost you as my girl in that girlfriend sense, for good. But by the time you’d left, I knew you’d become something more. You and Spike were both my – mine. My…”

Buffy put the pictures down, taking up Angel’s hands instead. “Your… children?”

“In a twisted sort of way. Vampire childer are our way of procreating – keeping the line going, so even if he’s not mine by blood, he’s mine by my blood.”

“And me?”

“You’re his by choice, which makes you mine, as well. Unless he hurts you, in which case he’s dust.”

Buffy’s comments were cut off by the blaring of a car’s horn outside, signaling Cordelia’s arrival.

~*~

Spike caught sight of Buffy coming down the stairs, hand in hand with Angel. It took all of his control to keep from barreling into his elder and knocking him flat on his arse.

“So what’s with the buddy-buddy routine?” he snarked, resentment simmering just below the surface. “You two back to being a couple? Had a bit of a revelation whilst you were…”

“Do you ever shut up, idiot?” Angel bit out; his clenched teeth showing control issues of his own. “Buffy and I have finally closed the door on our old relationship. We’ve decided it was time for something new.”

“Oh, my God, what’s wrong with both of you?” Buffy dropped Angel’s hand and stood between the two vampires as Spike’s growl reverberated throughout the room. She then smacked him not so gently on the arm. “Tell him what you told me, already. Cordy’s not likely to take being kept waiting really well.”

Spike eyed his grandsire warily as he stepped back, giving them both some maneuvering space.

“Here,” Angel growled, holding the drawing out for Spike to take. “I just thought you might understand how I feel without my actually having to say the damned words.”

Spike felt the warmth of Buffy’s arms as they stole around his waist. “This what you two were discussin’ upstairs, love?” He had a hard time processing the emotions he felt as he looked at the drawing of themselves as children.

As a fledgling, William had an affinity for Angelus’ drawings. For a supposedly soulless creature, he could often bring you to tears with his artwork. It was that evocative. He’d lost nothing of that talent over the years.

With eyes sparkling with barely held emotions, Spike put the drawing down carefully on the kitchen counter. Silence reigned; everyone apparently waiting on his reaction to Angel’s olive branch. He reacted in the only way he could… he punched the older vampire in the shoulder.

“Bloody tosser,” he growled; voice rough with unshed tears. “You promise never to call me sonny boy again, and I’ll make a fair effort not to call you Gramps within anyone’s hearing. We got a deal, mate?”

A rough hug was Angel’s only reply, before he turned his suspiciously wet face away and walked out the door after another of Cordelia’s impatient honks.

~*~

Oh, how good it felt to be home. Buffy walked through each room, re-familiarizing herself with each little knick-knack and knothole. It had only been a week since she’d been there, and two since the start of the whole kiddy business, but for the first time in over a year, the house on Revello Drive was all hers. Willow would probably move out. Tara had moved into Giles’ place. All alone… unless… Spike moved in with her? For real this time, not just for convenience. Maybe the guest room until they were more sure of their relationship? Not like they couldn’t have some together time if and when they chose.

She sat down on her bed, staring at her girly-pink phone. Maybe some things still needed to be changed. Something that reflected the new, older and more improved Buffy. Along with getting rid of those boy band posters. Geeze, what had she been thinking?

Anyway, it was time to do what she’d come home for. Spike wouldn’t be back for a couple of hours, giving her the space she needed to check up on her other newly grownup friends. As much as she wanted his support, Buffy knew this was something best faced alone.

Staring at the phone wasn’t going to accomplish anything, so Buffy quickly tapped Xander’s number into the keypad before she lost her nerve, hoping he’d still pick up the phone when her number came up on Caller ID.

“Hey, Buff. What’s new?”

His voice was so shaky, Buffy cringed.

“Oh, not much. Still with the big and grownup.” She tried for light, hoping to diffuse some of the tension evident even over the phone line. “I wanted to make sure you got home in one piece, Xan. And that you were okay. It’s been a rough week.”

Xander snorted. “Way to put it mildly, Buffy. I’m fine. What’s left of my pride after trotting through Sunnydale in Giles’ way-too-tight sweats is once more intact.”

“Are we good, Xan? I mean, we didn’t leave off well, what with all the yelling and accusing and screaming…”

For a moment, she heard nothing but heavy breathing through the receiver.

“Look, Buff. I’m okay. Well, I’ve been better, but I’ll be fine soon enough. Nothing a couple of decades in the hands of a good shrink can’t take care of.”

“We still need to talk. About Spike…”

“No!”

“Xander, please,” she begged. “We can’t sweep this under the rug and expect to move on like nothing’s changed.”

“No, Buffy. I mean there’s no way I can talk about this… about him, right now.”

It was Xander’s turn to beg. She could hear the tears clogging his voice and relented for the moment.

“I’m not dropping this, Xan. We have to talk about it sometime.”

“Agreed. Just… not now. Gotta go, Buff,” he said, in a transparent attempt to rush her off the phone. “Anya’s coming over and I’m sure we’ve got a long talk ahead of us, too. Only so much talking a guy can stand in one afternoon. Even me.”

“Later, then? You’ll come over for a face-to-face?”

“Nose-to-nose, even,” he joked. “I promise we’ll get together, soon.”

“Bye, Xander.”

**click**

~*~

Leaving last minute details in Tara’s capable hands, Buffy ran to answer the doorbell.

Willow stood in the doorway; shoulders slumped and face hidden by a curtain of bright red hair. “I-I brought something,” she murmured, shoving a brown supermarket bag into Buffy’s hands. “Oatmeal Cookie Chunk and Phish Food. Nothing says peace offering like tubs of Ben & Jerry’s. ”

Buffy could see the hope shining in her friend’s eyes, and her nerves lessened.

“Nope. Not much like ice cold creamy goodness to get over the rough spots.” When the redhead seemed hesitant to come inside, Buffy grabbed her now empty hands and pulled her gently towards the living room.

“H-hello, Willow.”

At the sound of her ex-lover’s voice, Willow nearly bolted, and would have if it weren’t for Buffy’s grip on her arm.

“You can do this, Will. You have to do this,” Buffy urged, guiding the shaking woman over to the couch. “It’ll all work out.”

“Hey, Tara.”

They all turned as Spike thundered down the stairs. He shared a hasty kiss with Buffy by the door before tearing out, slamming the door behind him.

“Um, Buffy? Did Spike leave because of me?” Willow toyed with the hem of her shirt, looking very much like the high school girl Buffy had first met.

She smiled, patting the woman’s back reassuredly. “Nah. Like anyone could make Spike leave if he didn’t want to.”

“Is he so angry with me he wouldn’t stay in the same room?”

“No, Willow,” Tara echoed Buffy’s previous statement. “Spike actually went on patrol, giving us some girl time.” A sad little smile graced her lips as she reached out, smoothing an errant lock of hair behind her ear. “Besides, what would he do at a hen party, anyway? Let us curl his hair and polish his nails?”

Buffy snickered, both hands flying up to cover her mouth.

“What?” Tara and Willow chorused.

“The last thing Spike needs is to have his hair curled. He’d look like a platinum poodle!” Buffy giggled. “Have you ever seen that man straight out of the shower? Shirley Temple would have been jealous of those curls.”

“Or when he’s just woken up,” Tara added, mirth evident in her eyes. “He’s so rumpled and sweet. He reminds me so much of his younger self, I half expected him to rub the sleep out of his eyes with balled up fists.”

“Hey!” Willow’s indignant squawk put a halt in the gigglefest. “How do you know what Spike looks like just out of bed?”

Tara sighed. “Is it really your business anymore, Willow? Who I see; when I see them?”

“It is mine,” Buffy interrupted. “I’d be jealous if I didn’t know the last time you saw Spike hop out of bed, it was to wash up the pukey blanket that Giles gifted us with.” With a moue of disgust on her lips from the memory, she headed towards the kitchen. “I’m gonna leave you two alone for a bit. It’ll probably be a bit easier to talk with a little privacy.” Buffy slipped quietly through the door without looking back.

~*~

“I’m sorry, baby. You know I didn’t mean…”

Tara shook her head, wondering how she could have made such an error in judgment with the woman she thought to be her life partner.

“Something else you don’t mean, Willow? At least this time one of our friends isn’t lying on the ground, writhing in pain from one of your mistakes.” Tara kept her voice low but each sentence had the impact of a slap across the face. “And I’m not the person you should be apologizing to. You hurt me, yes. By your lies and your secrets, you ruined what I thought we had. Trust between partners, once shattered, isn’t always reparable.”

“Isn’t there anything I can do to make this better?” Willow sobbed. “Tara, baby. You know I love you.”

“And I love you, too, Will. But sometimes…”

A look of resignation crossed the redhead’s face. “Sometimes it’s not enough. Yeah, I get that,” she sniffled, swiping at her nose with the back of her hand. “I really killed us, didn’t I?”

Tara nodded, glad to see it finally sinking in. “Without trust, we have nothing. I’m so sorry, Willow, but I can’t… won’t be in a relationship without it.”

“I can change,” Willow insisted. “What if I go to a… to a shrink? To work out all my problems. Will you be willing to give us another chance?”

“Oh, sweetie. If you go to a psychiatrist, do it for yourself, not me.” Tara sobbed, losing control for a moment. “You have to find out why you need to control every situation, even those that have nothing to do with you. Do it for yourself, and any other relationship you might have in the years to come,” she whispered. “Just not with me.”

“Will we ever see each other again? Do I have to leave town? Or you… are you leaving Sunnydale?”

With a wistful smile, Tara hugged her unhappy ex gently. “You don’t have to leave town, silly. Sunnydale is your home. And mine, too. I’ve moved in with Giles. He was kind enough to offer me… to let me stay with him. A-and we’ll see each other from time to time, I’m sure. Given enough of it, we’ll be friends again.”

“Just friends?” Willow squeaked.

“Always, hon. You can never have too many friends. Remember that.”

~*~

Buffy came back into the living room; not with ice cream, but lugging a heavy cooler. “Everything okay guys? I was beginning to think I should notify the post office of my new, kitchen address.”

“Did you make us some picnicy goodness?” Willow wiped away her tears, pointing to tub now placed on the floor between them.

“Nope. It’s addressed to Spike, but I’m dying to open it,” Buffy worried. “You never know who’s gonna send him something nasty just for fun.”

“Somebody send me a prezzie?” Spike breezed into the house, settling down next to Buffy. “Well, lemme open it. We can pretend it’s my deathday, an’ you can get me some ice cream, too. Just one of girls tonight.”

“What’s got you all good-moody, Spike? Not that I’m complaining.”

“Must’ve been those Pterycaldis demons I took apart,” he grinned, wiping his hands on Buffy’s bare arms. “Buggers were attackin’ some moonlight strollers down by the pier.”

Buffy cringed, then looked down at her clean skin. “Gods, Spike. You’re worse now then when you were five. Who’s the cooler from? Does it say in the card? Do you recognize the handwriting?”

Spike snickered. “An’ you think I’m impatient? Pot, kettle, love.” He looked over the envelope, finding no card enclosed. “Guess whoever had nothin’ much to say. Looks like demon-girl’s handwritin’.” A quick flip of the cooler’s lid had everyone staring.

“Wow, Spike,” Buffy exclaimed, handing over packer after packet from Sunnydale Memorial’s bloodbank. “Looks like you’ve got an admirer. Very admiring admirer – the dates are still fresh.” Her brow furrowed with concern. “Now who do you know who’d be sending you a Blood-o-Gram?”

“There’s more, pet. Weetabix, burba weed… ya think old Rupes sent a care package for getting’ him through his second childhood?”

“Not Giles, Spike. Look.” She held out the last item from the bottom of the cooler.

“A stake?”

“Would you just look at it? Closely?” Sheesh! What is it with men?

“Well I’ll be thrice damned,” Spike murmured, turning the carved piece of wood over and over in his hands. “A bleedin’ teddy bear with fangs. The git does nice work – fit’s m’grip good an’ proper.”

Buffy blinked back her tears, unable to cope with the sudden rush of emotions roiling through her body. She took the stake from Spike’s hand to let the girls see Xander’s craftsmanship, and hugged her vampire tightly.

“There’s hope for us all yet, bampire,” she whispered in his ear. “Maybe all this presto change-o was the best thing that could’ve happened.”

Spike nuzzled his favorite spot behind Buffy’s ear, and sighed. “You know, I wish…”

“Oh, no! No you really don’t,” she whispered back, holding his mouth shut with her hand. “No more wishing, Spike. We can do it all by ourselves… if we try.”

“I already have my wish, Buffy.” At her confused look, he clarified. “From our bet? It’s all I’ve ever wanted – just a chance, an’ we’ve more than that. Guess m’done wishing.”

“Wanna bet?”

Without a backwards glance at their guests, Slayer and Vampire ran up the stairs to start working on their new life together.

Two Years Later

Giles stood back and enjoyed the sight of Tara bustling about in his tiny kitchen. The young woman had put aside her shy nature and blossomed into the full, lush spirit he’d only gotten a glimpse of during her relationship with Willow.

If pressed, he would have to admit he’d developed quite the crush on his roommate over the past few years. Tara was bright, imaginative and, most appealing of all, a homebody. Her idea of a good day involved sitting in front of the fireplace with a bottle of fine wine, and a platter of fruits and cheeses.

They did go out together. Dining at a fine restaurant, followed by a night at the theatre wasn’t unheard of, but usually they settled for cooking together and talking about their respective days. Very domestic. Wonderfully appreciated.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help, love?” he asked for the third time in an hour. “I don’t want you too exhausted to enjoy our guests.”

Tara’s face was alight with contentment as she shepherded a second turkey from the oven to cool before carving.

“Everything’s under control, Rupert. What time is everyone set to arrive?”

“We did tell them five o’clock, I believe. But you know how things tend to…”

knock, knock

Wiping her hands on her apron, Tara looked up at the clock. Sure enough – barely two thirty. “Care to take bets on the early arrival?” she asked between laughs, heading for the door, where she was promptly encompassed in a bear hug by an over-exuberant Xander.

“You have no idea how good it is to be able to wrap my arms around a woman again, cutie.” He grinned and promptly got his hand slapped reaching for one of the cooling turkeys. “And may I just say ‘ow’ missy? Giles been teaching you self defense in his spare time?”

“One would think you’d know better than to try and sample the goods before dinner, Xander,” Giles greeted the young man warmly. “Tara might not practice spell-casting often, but I’m sure she’s quite a dab hand at turning mooching guests into salamanders for a couple of hours.”

Anya’s still-strident tones rang out from the kitchen. “Giles! Make Tara carve some dark meat right now. I’m hungry,” she demanded, waddling into the living room, her baby-belly arriving well before the rest of her.

Giles gently helped the seven-months-pregnant woman onto the wing chair, easing her down into a sitting position.

“It’s true what they say, Anya. You have quite the glow about you.”

Anya grunted, trying to ease herself into a more comfortable position. “That’s because I’m always sweating,” she muttered. “He’s impregnated me with a demon child and I’m going to burn up from the inside out.”

Without another word, Xander ran into the kitchen to get the mother-to-be a glass of ice water.

Giles was pleased at the changes the couple had undergone since Buffy’s little wish. Xander finally let go of his deep-seated demon prejudices… at least in regards to their little group. Mostly. And when his girlfriend became pregnant, he’d been overjoyed at the prospect of being a daddy.

Not so much Anya, who was terrified. She might have been able to handle a pair of five year olds in the bathtub, but the prospect of full-fledged motherhood left her bemoaning her lack of maternal instincts.

She also refused to get married until the baby was born and she could fit into a ‘proper’ wedding dress. Her mantra became: “One child. One wedding. One husband.” On particularly hormonal days, Xander had informed Giles that she would look at him sideways, mumbling something about ‘the old days’ and ‘his turn’ and ‘swollen body parts’.

Family, Giles thought happily. His children had really learned something from their experiences.

There was only one sore spot – Willow. She’d tried bravely to maintain a friendship with Tara after their breakup, but it was not to be. She couldn’t be around her ex-girlfriend without wanting more, and Tara most gently rebuffed her at every turn. Xander’s decision to focus his attention on his girlfriend left Willow feeling the odd man out, especially with…

“Gii-iiles, we’re here!”

Buffy’s dulcet tones rang out from the kitchen, followed closely behind by the sound of flapping cloth, indicating the arrival of her vampire during daylight hours.

Spike and Buffy. Buffy and Spike. Slayer and Vampire. Giles no longer held any real reservations about their relationship… other than, would any man ever be good enough for the daughter of his heart?

She barreled into the room; her happiness almost a tangible sensation. “Tara says we can eat in about an hour if we’re hungry. Seems she always knows when there’s foody goodness abounding, we’re likely to get here early and she planned for it.”

“Won’t be soon enough if you ask me,” Anya mumbled, clearly wishing she could devour one of Tara’s flaky, fresh-baked croissants. “It’s really cruel of you guys to have so much food around and not let me and little Elsa graze a little. I’m eating for two, ya know?”

Buffy looked at Anya’s rounded belly with reverence, silently asking permission to touch. “You know you’re having a girl?” she asked wistfully, smiling at each little kick and movement she felt.

Anya shook her head. “Well, the doctor knows, but Xander and I decided we’d like to be surprised. “It could be a little Olaf.”

“Not funny in the slightest, Ahn,” Xander chided, lovingly. “No way a kid of mine is gonna to be named after your very ex-husband-turned-troll.”

“Mates.” Spike acknowledged the Watcher and Xander with a nod of his head. “Anya, love… you look smashing. Gonna make a first-class Mum, you will.”

The young woman beamed at Spike’s compliment and turned her face up for a peck on the cheek. “Just remember that we’re expecting lots of expensive presents from you two. Godparents should spoil their godchild silly… and with the best gifts.”

“Not that I’m not feelin’ the love here, but can anyone tell me where to put this down?” Spike asked, indicating the rather large box he carried with him, and pointedly avoiding Xander’s wicked gaze as he held back the obvious gibe.

“Does it bite?”

”No more than I do these days, Rupes,” the vampire smirked. “Just a little something for after dinner.”

Giles motioned over to a spot near the small desk by the front door. “Nothing perishable, I take it?”

“Left the yummies to you an’ Tara this year.” Spike watched the three women commune – all baby talk, soft smiles and belly-rubbing. “You know, I wish…”

“NO!”

“Wasn’t gonna actually say it,” Spike groused.

Tara patted his shoulder; her soft smile taking what little sting there was out of everyone’s yelled response. “C’mon, Big Bad. Help me bring out the food. We wouldn’t want Anya to pass out from starvation, now would we?”

***

Stuffed to the point of bursting, everyone naturally paired off in the living room. Anya and Xander took to the sofa, where she could put her feet up on her boyfriend’s lap. Nothing said whipped like massaging the tired, aching and swollen toes of the one you loved.

Giles and Tara settled into the loveseat. Spike was sure if the couple weren’t already shagging, it wouldn’t be long. The arousal rolling off the pair had been building steadily for the past year and their obvious ease and affection were on display for all to see.

As for Spike? He did what he did best… settled on the floor between Buffy’s legs; allowing her fingers to card through his no longer tightly gelled hair.

The silence was comfortable – a true benchmark denoting close family. Not to mention the tryptophan reaction the humans were dealing with.

When the knock came at the door, Spike was the only being fit to get up and answer it. “‘bout time you got here, Poof,” he snickered. “Party’s mostly dead without you.”

Angel lightly clouted his obnoxious childe on the back of his head as he walked inside; a common greeting ritual between the two vampires.

Cordelia stood at the threshold and made a show of peeking inside, first. “So, bleach boy… is it safe? Nobody turned into rats or smelly Feshl’ik demons this year?”

“Wouldn’t get too close to Harris after what he ate, otherwise we’re a smell-free zone, Legs,” Spike said as he ushered her inside.

“Did you start without us? You know old Broodypants wouldn’t leave until moments before sunset.”

Buffy snorted indelicately from her chair. “Nice to see some things don’t change, Cordelia. You still think the world stops and starts for you.”

“And you’re still boinking the undead, right?” the brunette fired back.

“Yup!” The smug look on Buffy’s face gave lie to the seemingly hostile words spoken by the two women.

Spike had learned enough to keep his mouth shut. The sight of Angel rolling his eyes was satisfaction enough. Ever since ‘the incident’ Buffy had grown close to her old schoolmate, bonding over the care and feeding of little Angel. The dish between them could go on for hours over the phone, not that Spike made a habit of listening in… much… but the mockery of his grandsire was just too good to pass up.

“Gods, what a sorry bunch of old farts you all turned out to be,” Cordy exclaimed, ever tactful. “I decided we’d mark the anniversary of everybody’s childish regression with a new portrait.” She waved a tiny digital camera in the air to emphasize her point. “So… what’s everyone waiting for? Hop to it, people. And vampires – anyone kidified needs to go make themselves presentable. Chop chop!”

Twenty minutes later they all reassembled by the sofa – hair combed, clothing tucked into the proper place and somewhat nostalgic expressions on their faces.

“Oi, Legs. Hang on a mo.” Spike headed over to the box he’d brought and brought out a large wrapped package. “If we’re gonna mark the occasion, let’s do it right an’ mirror the original as close as possible.” He handed the present to Giles as Buffy beamed her approval.

“S’just a little token. Seems great minds think alike, an’ me and Buffy decided to remember our younger years as well.”

Giles began to pick fussily at the tape when Tara snatched it out of his hands. “I swear, Rupert… you’re going at it like an old maiden Aunt.” She proceeded to tear the paper to bits. “Oh! It’s just wonderful, you guys,” she said, handing the portrait over to Giles and grabbing Spike around the waist for a quick hug. “It just brings it all full circle, doesn’t it?”

Buffy joined in, and before long everyone except for Angel, and Spike, who’d managed to escape, was embroiled in the group hug-fest.

“Would you just look at ‘em, Angel?” he said with no small amount of awe in his voice. “When did everyone get so bloody sappy? I mean, it wasn’t but a couple of years ago we were all tryin’ to kill each other.”

“What’s a little killing between friends, I always say.” Angel stared at the knot of humanity in the center of the room. “Brought you something, too,” he said, reaching into his duster’s pocket.

Spike unfolded the tissue paper and stared at the small framed oil painting in his hands. It didn’t have the style of Angel’s charcoals, but the subject… the heart pouring from every deliberate brush stroke. The younger vampire was at a loss for words as he looked into his grandsire’s eyes.

“Finally made you speechless, eh, boyo?”

Staring back at Spike were two game-faced vampire children smiling around their fangs. An incongruous sight but one that warmed him from the bottom of his un-beating heart. “How?” he asked, still trying to wrap his thoughts around the image in front of him.

“Um… that would be me,” Buffy said as she sauntered up to the vampires in her life, wrapping her arms around her lover’s waist. “I sent Angel the Polaroids I’d taken of you when you were a little bampire, and Giles sent the ones he’d taken. Cordelia made him bring it,” she whispered into the shell of Spike’s ear. “And speaking of Cordelia… I think her highness is getting a bit antsy. C’mon, guys… it’s time for our close-ups!”

Using the original photo as a guideline, Cordelia shepherded everyone into place. Anya stood off to the side since she wasn’t there the first time.

Spike, Tara, and Buffy sat on the sofa. Of course, the blond couldn’t resist putting in his own two cents when Angel attempted to take his place at Spike’s side.

“Don’t you even think about sitting that wide arse of yours on my lap, ponce. Last thing I need is your crushing weight puttin’ me out of commission for tonight’s…” Spike winked and made a crude gesture instead of spelling it all out.

“You finish that sentence and there will be no…” Buffy repeated the gesture, eyebrow raised in censure.

Giles perched on her free side, leaving Xander to kneel at Tara’s feet on the floor.

Looking through the viewfinder, Cordelia motioned for everyone to squeeze in closer, then took a moment to check with the portrait.

“Okay you guys. Everyone take a ‘missing Willow’ moment and then flash those pearlies for the camera.”

The image of their once close friend in her purple Oshkosh overalls and her fuzzy pink sweater remained in everyone’s hearts

“One… two…!”

flash