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 off 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!