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

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

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

Oh, God… just like Spike.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yay! Giles to the rescue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fortunately, Giles was way ahead of her. “But that’s beside the point right now. We should be worried more about how an almost 26 year old man turned vampire over one hundred and twenty years ago became a five year old vampire child,” he mused, “rather than worrying about Spike and his feelings. What happens if William never reverts to Spike? Who will care for the boy if he remains a child for all eternity? It might be more humane to end his existence now, instead of letting him become a target for sport amongst other demons.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Both children began to sob in earnest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can too!”

“Can’t!”

“You’re a mean poopy-head.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am not!”

“Are too!”

“Vampires aren’t real.”

“Are too.”

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

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

Xander shook his head in affirmation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

“Please come in, Angel.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wh-what demon?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So much for help and commiseration from the female quarter.

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

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

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

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

Too late.

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

The little girl nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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