Childish Things
by
ELG

One's friends are that part of the human race with which one can be human.
George Santayana

-

Angel could hear them down in the lobby of the Hyperion. Wesley and Cordelia were bickering mildly about something. Angel effortlessly tuned them in; his hearing able to pick up even their distant voices. The coffee? Cordelia had forgotten to buy filters again. The coffee tasted bitter. Coffee was meant to be bitter.

Well, I want tea.

You're such an old woman, Wesley.

Coming from a woman isn't that an odd choice of insult? Does that mean you actually consider yours the inferior gender? Ow! Ow! Cordelia!

In the past, before Angel had gone darkside, fired them all, then been forced to wheedle his way back into their affections, that would have been the point when Wesley would have called out to Angel for arbitration. He would have been hearing that one word suits all occasions 'An-gel!' that meant 'Tell her!' or 'Tell him!' or 'Make them stop!' which really made it clear how long Wesley had been in the kind of institutions where there was always a prefect or a teacher to complain to about someone being mean to you. The wonder was that he didn't still raise his hand before answering a question.

In the past, Angel had tried not to be play too much into the parental dynamic with Wesley, trying to be slightly stern and aloof when he went all whiney kid on him, even though secretly he thought it was cute, because Wesley really was too old for that act. Unfortunately, there was a part of him that really liked Cordelia, Gunn, and Wesley acting like his kids and him having to sigh wearily and parentally admonish and calm them. Equally unfortunately that part of him had been completely buried by the whole Darla obsession thing and he'd gone from saying a mild 'Children, stop fighting' or being genuinely upset that they were disagreeing and trying to get them to play nice, to turning into the father from hell who demanded that his offspring grew up now, at once, this minute, got the hell out of his life and got themselves a job.

They had done so. Picked up their belongings, put aside their differences, gone out there and fought the good fight with no assistance from him, and were now all grown up. Pretty soon Angel had found himself in the position of a previously good father who, having run off with another woman, only got to peer longingly at his kids through the school gates. He knew he should be proud of them and at heart he was. He really was proud of the way Cordelia shouldered the burden of the visions, and Wesley had shouldered the burden of leadership, even when he was having to do so from a wheelchair, and the way Gunn – who had been only slightly bound to the group through his connection with Angel – had stepped up to the plate and taken on the responsibility of being these people's protector. The guy who was all about showing other people he didn't take orders from them and made his own decisions, and who had always made it clear to the two hundred and fifty year old vampire that he was his own man, now called Wesley 'Boss'. That was one hell of a concession from Gunn and most certainly a sign of great maturity. And although Wesley had rubbed it into Angel that Angel now worked for them, on Cordelia's behalf as well as his own, Angel realized, he was tactful and responsible about dividing responsibilities between himself and Gunn, and listening to Gunn's input.

It still felt wrong to Angel that he wasn't the person in charge, and it also felt wrong to him that they should have grown up so fast while his attention was diverted. He would never have admitted it aloud but, proud though he was of them, he really did miss being the parent of this particular dysfunctional family.

Sighing, he made his way down to the lobby. Gunn had arrived and was putting in his two cents worth as they clustered around the front desk.

“It's too early in the morning for me to listen to you two bitching and whining.”

“I don't whine!” Cordelia retorted.

“No – you bitch, Wesley whines, and between the two of you, you are driving me buggo!”

Wesley rolled his eyes in protest. “All I wanted was a cup of tea.”

“You dissed my coffee!” Cordelia retorted fiercely.

“Only because it was undrinkable,” Wesley returned as if that made it better.

Angel thought about telling them not to quarrel, and then realized sadly that he'd forfeited the right to tell them to do anything for a while. He missed that. He missed everyone remembering that he was the old wise super strong guy and looking to him for commonsense and protection. Supposing they ever had, which he was now wondering about. He definitely remembered a time when Wesley had trusted his judgement and looked to him for orders and thought Angel was pretty much the noblest champion in this or any other dimension. And he thought Cordelia has been inclined to think the best of him as well. Even Gunn hadn't thought he was a complete waste of space.

“This Angel Investigations?”

Angel turned to see a delivery guy carrying two small parcels.

“Yes.” He looked over his shoulder at Wesley. “More books?”

Wesley shook his head. “I wish, but we can't afford any more at present.”

Gunn looked at Cordelia. “More shoes?”

She snorted. “Like I'd buy those by mail order when we live in a city of a thousand shoe shops.”

The delivery man pushed a clipboard under Angel's nose. “You Angel? Sign here.” As Angel did so the delivery man handed over one of the parcels and then turned to look at the others. “And which one of you is Wesley Wyndam-Pryce?”

Standing between the very female Cordelia and a Wesley who was sipping his tea aggrievedly, Gunn just looked at the delivery man. “Take a wild guess.”

The delivery man crossed over to where Wesley was and handed him a pen before holding out the clipboard. “Sign here.”

“How come only you and Angel get goodies?” Cordelia demanded.

“Perhaps because Santa loves us best.” Wesley signed with a quiet flourish every syllable of his double-barrelled name.

Looking between them as if he thought they were slightly insane, the delivery man handed Wesley a parcel and went out shaking his head.

“Well, I bet it's something boring or lethal,” Cordelia said. “And I'll standing over here while you open it.”

Wesley smiled in a superior fashion. “You're just jealous because you didn't get a mysterious parcel and Angel and I both did.”

“Maybe because they're going to save killing me for later,” she retorted. “So, that after your ticking timebomb explodes Gunn and I are still left standing to clean up the gloop.”

Wesley paused and put the parcel to his ear carefully. “It's not ticking.”

“Does it smell edible?” Gunn enquired. “Because I'm hungry.”

“Mine doesn't smell of anything.” Angel gingerly began to unwrap the box. It didn't feel very heavy and there was no return address anywhere. The label had been hand-printed in clear black print but he didn't recognize the handwriting.

“I bet it's from Wolfram & Hart,” Cordelia added. “They've already tried to kill Wesley once.”

“They weren't trying to kill me specifically,” Wesley pointed out. “Just to separate Angel from his links to humanity.”

Gunn frowned. “Which would be us, right?”

“That bomb not having your actual stuffy English name on it didn't stop it blowing you halfway to hell,” Cordelia pointed out.

“Yes, but I wasn't targeted in the way that you were. I think it's perfectly possible that the people at Wolfram & Hart don't even know how to spell my actual stuffy English name.”

Cordelia rolled her eyes. “Wes, I don't know how to spell your name, but I still know who you are.”

Wesley held up the parcel. “But the person who sent this did know how to spell my name, Cordelia. No 'h' in 'Wyndam' and Pryce with a 'y'. Do you know how rare it is for someone to get that right?”

Angel put in quietly, “Wes, Wolfram & Hart are the people who are most likely to get your name right. They have access to files that other people don't.”

“Or it could be my Aunt Cynthia sending me some new socks,” Wesley protested.

Angel held up his parcel. “Would she be sending me socks too?” He motioned to the others to get back behind the front desk. “Let me open mine and if I get vaporized, don't open yours.”

Wesley sighed but did reluctantly begin to move behind the desk along with Cordelia and Gunn. “Just for once it would be nice if someone was sending us parcels because they liked us.”

Cordelia took Wesley's elbow and moved him firmly behind the protection of the counter. “Like I told you before, no one likes a smartass rogue demon hunter, and given all the nasty things that keep happening to us, that must go extra for Vision Girl, the Dark Avenger and Hubcap Harry here.”

Gunn rolled his eyes. “You all get to sound like Superheroes from a Marvel Comic and I get 'Hubcap Harry'?”

“Get yourself a proper axe and maybe we can talk again about that name.”

Angel glanced across at them. “I'm opening the possibly lethal parcel in a selflessly self sacrificing gesture now – if any of you want to stop squabbling for long enough to notice.”

“Sorry!” Wesley called back.

“We're very impressed by your bravery,” Gunn added.

“And we'd be even more impressed if you speeded it up a bit,” Cordelia added. “The suspense is killing us.”

“Although hopefully not in a very real and very literal sense,” Wesley murmured.

Angel opened the box and peered inside. There was a lot of bubble-wrap, which seemed rather a mundane way to send something that was promising all kinds of excitingly lethal death. Pulling back the bubble-wrap he found there was some tissue paper and inside the tissue paper a small and rather unimpressive bronze amulet. He touched it carefully, waiting for a fizzing or explosion to happen. Nothing did. He picked it up by the chain and it glinted benignly under the hotel lighting. A somewhat insignificant-looking amulet with some carvings on it.

“What is it?” Cordelia demanded.

“An amulet.” Angel held it up for inspection and they cautiously emerged from behind the counter.

“Someone's sending Angel jewellery?” Gunn enquired.

“Mystical jewellery?” Wesley peered at the amulet curiously.

“Made in Taiwan type jewellery going by the look of it,” Cordelia sniffed. “Looks like a cheap hunk of crap to me.” She caught Gunn's sleeve. “You know what this means?”

“What?”

“Someone is sending Angel and Wesley his'n'his matching amulets! That's so sweet. Do you think we should all go to Vegas for the wedding? I'm sure Lorne would be happy to sing.”

“Lorne is always happy to sing, cupcakes, but what's the occasion?”

Holding the amulet in the palm of his hand, Angel turned to see the green demon advancing elegantly down the stairs from the front doors. He was wearing something stylish in blue silk and looked – as always – as if he were about to accept a microphone from someone and burst into radiant song.

“Wes and Angel getting hitched.” Gunn shrugged. “Apparently.”

Angel winced as he caught his palm on the edge of the amulet. “Ow!” He licked his palm and the blood was salt and rich on his tongue, the hunger flaring momentarily before he fought it back down.

“Gunn and Cordelia sulking because they didn't get a mysterious parcel and Angel and I did,” Wesley countered.

Cordelia shrugged. “So, someone thinks you and Angel are cheap and gay? How is that enviable? You now run the risk of getting beaten up in the street but you didn't even get good taste to go with it?”

“Children, please…” Angel murmured. Thinking how much easier it had been when they did what he said. Or didn't. But were meant to at least. And how much he had liked being a single parent to dysfunctional adopted kids in the past.

Gunn nudged Wesley. “Open your parcel. Let's see if you really did get matching amulets.”

“Can I see the inscription on yours first, Angel?” Wesley enquired. Angel suspected that Wesley was just trying to put off the evil moment when it would be revealed that someone really had sent them matching amulets and they were therefore going to be teased about it endlessly by Cordelia and Gunn.

“No.” Cordelia nudged Wesley much harder in the ribs, making him wince and clutch his still tender abdomen. “Open your parcel. Lorne can decipher the Made in Hong Kong symbols while you're wrestling with bubble-wrap.”

Angel handed the amulet to Lorne who examined it curiously under the lights. “Ancient Tibetan Wish Amulet, kids.” Lorne shrugged. “Nothing particularly unusual about it. Except when I say 'Ancient' I mean knocked out last Wednesday and when I say 'Tibetan' I mean never been near Lhasa in its lifetime and when I say 'Wish' I mean you wish it would work and when I say Amulet I mean, well…actually the 'amulet' part is pretty accurate.”

“I bet Wesley has one the same.” Cordelia took five steps backwards towards the stairs. “But just in case it's something scarier, I think I'll go and stand over here.”

“I think I'll stand over here.” Gunn moved towards the front desk.

Wesley rolled his eyes. “You're both overreacting absurdly.” Nevertheless, Angel could hear his heart was beating rather faster than usual as he peeled back another layer of bubble-wrap to reveal… “Well, it's not an amulet.”

“It's a bomb, isn't it?” Cordelia asked faintly.

“It's an orb of some kind.” Wesley picked it out of the tissue paper and held it up for inspection. “Rather pretty. I could do with a paperweight.”

“Isn't there a note with it, crumpet?” Lorne enquired uneasily. “Some explanation of why someone is sending you these mystical gee-gaws?”

Wesley shrugged. “No, nothing. It must be a reward for our nice manners and clear diction. Explaining why the Americans didn't get any.” His glance at Angel made it clear that he was more than a little rattled but trying not to show it.

“Can I see it?” Angel held out a hand, forgetting about the cut on his palm until the solid weight of the orb pressed against it and made him wince. “It's heavy.”

“It's glowing!” Gunn added in some alarm.

“Switch it off!” Cordelia told him quickly.

“How?” Angel demanded. The orb was indeed glowing now, a swirling mist appearing in the centre of it like a fortune-teller's crystal ball. As he turned it in his hands, trying to find some kind of symbols on it that could possibly tell him how to stop it doing whatever it was now doing, a ray of light shot out from it and hit the amulet Lorne was holding, immediately refracting from the amulet in four bolts of light, the first hit Gunn and enveloped him in light, the second, Cordelia, the third, Wesley, and then a fraction after the others, the fourth hit Angel but instead of enveloping him in light as with the others, it immediately died, causing the other lights to cut off at the same time.

“What the hell was…?” Angel turned around to see how the others were faring and his jaw dropped in disbelief.

“Mystical munchkins,” Lorne murmured.

Angel gazed in horror at what were now standing in the places where his associates had recently been. “Tell me I'm dreaming.”

Lorne reached across and pinched him, hard. “Wide awake I'm afraid, cream puff, and it looks like you just became a Daddy.” He turned around slowly. “Three times over.”

Where a moment before six feet four of twenty-something Gunn had been standing, there was now a belligerent-looking child of no more than four, enveloped in clothes from which he was struggling angrily to emerge. A six year old girl, swamped in her designer frock, her small feet lost in Cordelia's elegant pumps, was standing with her mouth open, clearly torn between wailing in dismay and throwing a full out tantrum. Next to Angel a thin shocked-looking Wesley of perhaps eight years old was gazing up at Angel in horror through glasses far too big for his pinched little face. His trousers and underpants were around his ankles, which didn't much matter as his shirt now fell way below his knees.

“What happened?” he said breathlessly.

Angel crouched down in front of him. “Do you know who I am?”

“I think so.” Wesley looked around the hotel in confusion. “Everything's fuzzy.” He looked down at himself, reaching up automatically to hold onto his glasses and then saw what had happened, gasping in horror. “Did a spell happen?”

“And how, bitesize.” Lorne also crouched down to Wesley's eye level. “But don't worry, we're going to fix this.” He gently removed the glasses that were now far too big for him from Wesley's face. “And these.”

“How?” Wesley's lower lip was trembling and he looked ready to burst into tears. He said rapidly: “I don't want to be a child again. Angel, I don't want to be small!”

Cordelia's wail cut through Wesley's panic like a police siren and Angel could just tell that this was a sound she could keep up for some considerable time. “I don't like this! I'm not me! Why don't my shoes fit me?” As she tried to take a step, she fell out of her pumps and landed with a bump on the floor. Lorne hurried to help her up but her wailing only went up another scale.

“There there, Cordy Junior.” Lorne hastily gathered her into his arms. “We'll have you back to magnificent life size in no time. Right, Angel?”

Angel patted Wesley reassuringly on his scarily thin little shoulder and hurried over to where Gunn was still fighting clothing as if it was a sewer demon, punching and kicking angrily at the folds that were smothering him. “Let me help you out of there…” He picked the little boy up out of his jeans and boots, revealing a cross little four year old, ridiculously cute in a hugely oversized red sweatshirt.

Little Gunn promptly kicked Angel hard in his family jewels. “Put me down! I'm not a little kid!”

“Yes, you are,” said Wesley sadly. “We all are.”

Gunn stabbed a finger at Angel. “I'm not doing what you say just because you're bigger than me. So there.”

Lorne, still patting Cordelia on the back while she wailed in his arms, looked at Angel. “Oh my god, is that too cute for words or…?”

Gunn bunched his hand into a tiny fist. “One more word and I'm going to punch you on the nose, Lorne!” Then he looked at how small his fist was, gave up the unequal fight between memory and biology, and drummed his bare feet furiously into Angel's abdomen in what was undoubtedly a full out small child paddy.

Wesley sat down on the floor and put his hands up to his face. “I don't want to be a child again,” he said quietly, closing his eyes and clearly wishing for all he was worth. “Please don't make me be a child again.” He opened his eyes and looked down at himself hopefully, and then his face fell.

Angel carried the still kicking Gunn over to where Wesley was and crouched down next to him. “Wes, are you still you? Do you still know what you know as an adult?”

“Sort of.” Wesley looked up at him and his blue eyes looked enormous in his child-sized face. The adult Wesley was skinny – although only Cordelia was usually tactless enough to mention it – but it was offset by the fact that he was also fit and leanly muscled, however he really did make for a painfully thin little boy. “But I think it will fade quite quickly, Angel. The biological imperative of being this size will inevitably overwhelm all other factors.”

“You still sound just the same,” Angel pointed out.

“I'm not though.” Wesley looked down at himself again in dismay. “And as I only have a child-sized brain now I probably won't be able to remember everything I did as an adult. Gunn will regress even faster because he seems to have lost even more years than I did.”

“Don't wanna regress!” Gunn kicked Angel angrily again while Cordelia's wailing got louder.

“I don't think we have a choice,” said Wesley faintly, trying to pull back his sleeves far enough to find his hands. Once he had finally pushed back enough cloth to find them he looked at them in misery, his heart rate increasing as he gulped at the air.

“Gunn, stop kicking me,” Angel told him firmly. “Cordy, stop crying. Wes, stop panicking. Lorne and I are going to figure this out and put you back how you were, okay?”

“But you're just a stupid vampire!” Gunn shouted at Angel, still drumming his toes against his abdomen. “Wes is the smart one and he's just a kid now! We're going to be stuck like this forever. How can I fight demons like this?”

“Stop. Kicking. Me,” Angel said through gritted teeth.

Still in Lorne's arms, Cordelia pointed piteously at her new pumps. “My shoes! None of my shoes will fit me! My beautiful shoes!”

“But think of all those new outfits you'll be able to get into, princess,” said Lorne desperately.

“Angel is a hundred years out of date!” Cordelia wailed. “He'll probably make me wear pinafore dresses and bobby sox!”

“Actually little girls wore silk and lace and lots of petticoats when I was growing up,” Angel observed. “They looked lovely.”

Cordelia stared at him for a moment and then wailed louder. “I'm going to be a freak!”

“I'm not going back to school again for anyone!” Gunn shouted at Angel. “You can't make me go to school and if you do I'm not doing my homework!”

“School.” Wesley clasped his hands together tightly, clearly fighting the urge to rock only by a great effort. “Having to learn everything all over again.”

“No sex!” Gunn shouted.

Angel put a hand over his mouth. “Don't say things like that. One, because we're going to fix this, and, two, because you're four years old and it's too freaky.”

“No sex?” Cordelia looked at Gunn aghast. “No shopping by myself? No wearing my own clothes for ten years! Just kill me now. I don't even want to live.”

Wesley wrapped his arms around his knees and looked up at Angel fearfully. “Social services won't let you keep us. They'll take us away and send us back to our parents.”

“My parents are dead.” Gunn stopped kicking Angel at last. “They'll put me up for adoption.”

“My father's in prison and my mother's having a long slow breakdown.” Cordelia clung onto Lorne a little tighter, as if she needed the comfort of someone familiar. He rocked her automatically while patting her on the arm.

“My parents are alive,” said Wesley faintly. “My father could spend the next ten years telling me how badly I turned out the first time.”

“That is not going to happen.” Angel tightened his grip on Gunn protectively.

Lorne looked across at him. “The munchkins have a point, Angelcakes. You could pass as Cordy and Wes's father maybe, if we could get you some fake papers, but no one is going to buy you as our sawn off TotGunn's biological father.”

“My second wife was African-American.”

“So, where is she?” Lorne enquired. “And come to that where's your first wife too? And how come neither of them ever visits their kids? The kids you haven't registered in any school in LA? And why does Cordelia have an American accent but Wesley doesn't?”

“We just arrived from England. Wesley's mother was English. That's why he sounds like that.”

“So, how many wives have you had, Angel? What are you, Bluebeard? And where's your passport?” Lorne sighed. “It's not as if you don't have enemies. If Wolfram & Hart get a sniff of what's happened to our kindergarten chums here they're going to be contacting social services within the hour. Is there anywhere you can take them where you can work on reversing this spell in peace?”

“Sunnydale,” said Wesley quietly.

Angel looked down at him. “What?”

“Giles might be able to help and if I turn completely into an eight year old we're going to need someone else who can do research as well as you.”

“Wesley's right.” Cordelia wiped her eyes. “You suck at research.”

“Buffy.” Angel sighed. He had been trying so hard to avoid seeing her; trying not to add to their pain at being separated and her pain at having just lost her mother. “I'll have to ask her to take us in for a while.”

“No!” Cordelia's shriek made Lorne flinch and almost drop her.

“Sweetheart, you're going to perforate my eardrum.”

“I can't go to Sunnydale looking like this!” Cordelia shouted. “Xander will see me! He'll make fun of me!”

Wesley sighed. “Cordy, I'm not exactly relishing the prospect of going back to a place where everyone despised and disliked me either – especially as I'm now a small child – but I don't think there's any choice. I don't know anyone except Giles who might be able to help us.” He looked up at Angel and although he'd sounded very adult for a moment there his big blue eyes were full of an eight year-old's anxiety. “Do you?”

Angel shook his head. “Wes is right. We need to go to Sunnydale. I'll call Giles now. Lorne? Can you go and buy the…children some clothes? We can get Wesley some new glasses in Sunnydale but they're going to need underwear, pyjamas, socks, shoes, toothbrushes, everything you can think of. Take my wallet. Do you need to measure them first?” He looked at the three of them uncertainly.

Lorne put Cordelia down gently and she sank down on the floor next to Wesley who wordlessly put out his hand to her. Angel noticed the way she took it and held on tightly. Lorne said, “I think we both have their new dimensions pretty much burned into our disbelieving brains, Daddy-o. There's a store that's cool with demons and humans where I can get them fitted out – the store owner owes me for a reading that averted a domestic situation the like of which you don't even want to know about but suffice to say it would have made your homelife with Darla look like the Waltons – so he should give me a big discount. But nothing I buy Wesley is going to fit him properly unless there's a Refugee Kids R Us around here and any clothes Cordelia would consent to be dressed in you can't afford.”

Angel crouched down next to them, placing Gunn on the floor next to Wesley as he did so. “Kids, I want you to remember that you're going to be adults again very soon. In the meantime, Cordy you're going to have to wear clothes for little girls that weren't designed by anyone in particular and, Wes, we're probably going to have to use some safety pins to keep your pants up. Gunn, you're going to have to face the fact that you're at the insanely cute age when even total strangers will stop in the street to coo over you and even scowling won't help you. But this is temporary, okay?” Gunn scowled up at him but Angel noticed the way he inched closer to Wesley and Wesley put his right arm around him, the fingers of his left hand still tightly interlocked with Cordelia.

Angel wasn't sure he could reverse this, although nothing short of torture was going to make him admit it, but he was damned sure that no harm was going to come to these three while he was undead to prevent it, and nothing and no one was going to separate them as long as they wanted to be together. He tossed his wallet to Lorne. “Get what you think they need. I want to get them out of here as soon as the sun goes down.”

As Lorne nodded and took his leave, Angel looked down at the three children, Wesley and Cordelia still with their hands clasped, and Gunn cuddled mournfully up against Wesley. “It's going to be okay, I promise,” he told them gently. “Keep out of sight and I'll be right back.”

*

He had known Giles would be less than thrilled by the idea of him seeing Buffy again. He wasn't too happy about it himself, but this was an emergency and he was determined to make Giles see that.

“She has enough on her plate right now, Angel. Dawn. Glory. Her mother's death. Seeing you again is the last thing she needs.”

“Giles, this isn't my idea of fun either but I don't have a choice. The three people who work for me have been hexed into being small vulnerable children and the evil law firm just across the way that spends its days trying to drive me crazy is going to phone Social Services and get them taken into care the second it gets wind of what's happening here. For all I know they manufactured the situation, have someone watching us, and have already started making calls. I have to get them out of LA tonight and I need someone to help me reverse the spell.”

Giles sighed heavily. “Let me talk to Buffy.”

“I'll wait.”

“I was planning to phone you back.”

“I'll wait,” Angel repeated grimly.

There was a pause when he could hear the far off mumble of conversation. He thought he heard Willow and Xander as well as the quiet sound of Buffy's voice. It was strange to think of her there in that house, where he had once slept beside her bed, her life continuing just as his continued while the thread between them became more and more stretched.

“Angel…?”

The shock of her voice still made him catch his breath; even though he didn't need to breathe, somehow she could make him remember he'd once had lungs that needed to inhale and exhale. “Buffy?”

“Bring them. Giles and Willow are researching reversal spells. You can all stay here until they're cured.”

“Thank you.” He couldn't tell her how wonderful she was, but he hoped she could hear the warmth and relief in his voice. “Can you ask Xander not to…?”

“Tease Cordelia? No one is making any promises on that, Angel. Or Wesley either.” He could imagine how her smile would look right now, the way it would be there in her eyes, in the warmth she had that was so vital it even made someone without a heartbeat feel warmed inside as well. "You've got to let us have some fun.”

“You're perfect,” he told her. Not what he'd been meaning to say but what he was thinking.

“Oh, I know. I reek of perfection. Ask anyone who doesn't actually know me.”

“I know you.”

“I know. Better than anyone.” The smile was still there but the tenderness made him catch his breath. “Giles says don't forgot to being the amulet and orb. Xander says to tell Cordelia he's buying more film for the camera.”

“I'll be with you – be in Sunnydale tonight.” He put down the phone and imagined Giles in the background shaking his head, Xander and Willow exchanging those 'fasten your seatbelts' expressions. But this trip to Sunnydale wasn't about him and Buffy and their Love That Could Not Be. It was about his friends. Keeping them safe and getting them back.

He plastered a bright smile onto his face and walked back into the lobby. Gunn was sucking his thumb, he noticed, doing nothing to downplay the cute factor that was undoubtedly going to be the bane of the demon killer's days until he was adult-sized again. Wesley looked skinny and scared and determined. Angel could actually see him squaring those narrow shoulders against what was coming next, still protectively holding onto Cordelia and Gunn as he did so. He had gone from only child to eldest child in a heartbeat and already seemed to be weighed under with the responsibility of his new position. Cordelia was an impossibly pretty little girl, all big brown eyes, and a pouting mouth. She had her head on Wesley's shoulder and was whimpering quietly about how she was never going to be able to wear her new clothes and how could she be Vision Girl when she couldn't even understand what she was seeing?

“Angel will find a way to reverse it,” said Wesley softly. “And then we can go back to being who we really are.”

“What if this is who we really are now?” Cordelia asked sadly. “What if we're being punished for not living our lives right the first time and the Powers That Be are going to make us redo it over and over again until we get it right?”

Wesley shuddered and tightened his grip on Gunn. “Why would they? We're not that bad.”

“Aren't we?” Cordelia slumped against him. “Perhaps we are. I think I was.”

“I'm not being four years old again,” Gunn mumbled crossly, before taking his thumb out of his mouth and looking at it accusingly. “I can't reach anything and even real shortasses are taller than me now. And no way in hell am I going through puberty twice.”

Wesley groaned and bowed his head. “I'm going to forget everything that makes me…me. I'm going to be that stupid boy again. The one who knocks things over and who gets things wrong and whom no one likes.”

Cordelia said softly, “Wes, you knock things over and get things wrong all the time, but we still like you.”

“You weren't around when I was growing up.”

“This time we will be,” Gunn observed glumly.

Wesley tightened his grip on them, trying to be brave and looking very small and fragile in his oversized shirt. “Well then, perhaps it won't be so bad this time.”

Angel cleared his throat. “Giles and Willow are already researching reversal spells and Buffy says we're welcome to stay with her. Why don't I get you something to drink? There's Coke in the fridge.” He edged away but kept listening to their conversation, feeling so sorry for them it hurt as they slumped in the lobby so despondently.

“I bet they're all loving this,” Cordelia said bitterly.

“Buffy's mother only died a few months ago, Cordy,” said Wesley gently. “I doubt they're loving anything right now. Seeing as Buffy never liked me and doesn't know Gunn I think it's kind of her to take us in.”

Cordelia muttered something unladylike under her breath and Gunn took his thumb out of his mouth again to say, “Should you be saying things like that in front of me? And if this Buffy chick doesn't like Wes I'm not going to like her.”

“She's a vampire slayer and a very pretty girl,” Wesley told him wearily. “You'll probably be in love with her two steps across the threshold. Well, until she coos over how cute you are and tries to take a picture of you sucking your thumb, of course…”

Gunn hit Wesley on the arm. “Shut up.”

“It would be just like Buffy to make a big fuss of Gunn and ignore me.” Cordelia looked down her nose at Gunn. “I always knew I'd hate to have a younger brother who got all the attention and was spoilt by everyone and I think I was so right.”

“Like you weren't spoilt,” Gunn retorted.

“Don't fight,” Wesley said. “Angel will get cross.”

“We're too little to get cross with,” Cordelia returned triumphantly.

“It doesn't work like that,” Wesley sighed.

Angel felt a chill go through him. Pouring them some Coke in assorted mugs and cups, he carried them back out to the lobby and crouched down with them. “This is just temporary, remember?”

Wesley's blue eyes begged him to be telling the truth but out loud he only said, “Of course it is.” But Angel saw the way his and Cordelia's fingers intertwined a little more tightly and Gunn put his thumb back in his mouth before cuddling up against Wesley for comfort.

Angel guessed that the only people who could really know how it felt to be them right now was them but he mentally promised that if Xander Harris started making fun of any of his munchkins, he was going to throw him through a window without bothering to open it first.

***

Xander had to admit he was enjoying the prospect of seeing Cordelia and Wesley as little kids. It was freaky, of course. Truly freaky. But Cordelia had been Miss Snotty Princess for most of his formative years and their break up hadn't exactly been painless. And Wesley had been a pompous English twerp who had been prepared to sacrifice Willow for the sake of following the Watcher Handbook, and who had tried to steal his ex-girlfriend through underhanded use of an English accent, a surface layer of suave sophistication, and the unfair advantage of being an adult. He didn't know Gunn, but given the company he kept he doubted he would have liked him much, so perhaps being turned into a small child was something he deserved too.

“This must be very difficult for them.” Giles sounded grave and responsible but Xander suspected he was trying not to smirk as he took off his glasses to clean them. “Let's try not to make it harder than it already is.”

Xander peered out of the window again. They should be here any minute, barring accidents. Angel would have had to take them to the bathroom on the way down. That was funny. He couldn't believe anyone didn't find that funny.

“I know what you're thinking,” Buffy told him. “And I'm going to smack you if you keep thinking it.”

“Angel having to babysit Cordelia? Don't tell me that isn't funny?” Xander looked across at Willow. “You remember what Cordy was like as a little girl, right, Will? She used to throw tantrums if the teacher tried to make her use finger paints that didn't coordinate with her outfit.”

“I wonder what Wesley was like as a child,” Willow mused.

“Very proper and English,” Buffy put in. “I bet he always did his homework the second he got home.”

Giles thought of Roger Wyndam-Pryce and frowned. “I imagine his father would have insisted on it.”

“You know Wesley's father?” Xander looked at him in surprise.

Giles shrugged. “I've met him. I wouldn't say I know him. Rather an austere man as I recall. Not very easy to please. I remember someone congratulating him when Wesley was made Head Boy of the Watcher's Academy. His response was to say that there couldn't have been very much competition that year.”

Xander's face fell. “He sounds like my father. Don't go making me feel sorry for Wesley. I was happy in my gloating place.”

“They're here,” said Tara quietly. “Or someone is in a big black convertible.”

“That will be Angel,” Xander sniffed. “Always has to make the big entrance.”

Giles took the dignified approach of standing back while Xander and Willow unashamedly peered from behind the drapes. Buffy took a deep breath, called to Dawn that the visitors were here and then went to the door.

Xander watched as Angel got out of the car then went around and opened the passenger door. In the streetlight, he caught a glimpse of a thin pale little boy in clothes that were too big for him who went to the back of the car to open the door for a little girl dressed in a pale frock. Cordelia. Unexpectedly he got a lump in his throat. She was so small. And scared. She was lifting her chin in that defiant way he remembered from the past, tossing her head back so anyone peering from behind the drapes wouldn't know how scared she was but he knew her too well, and he could see it in her spine, in her eyes. She held on tight to the hand of the boy next to her and he tried to equate these two with Wesley making sheep's eyes at Cordelia while she embarrassed herself trying to get him to help her with her homework. He could see how painfully aware they were of their size; how tall the lampposts looked to them, how the houses loomed.

Buffy had the door open and they heard the boy who had to be Wesley say quietly, “It's all right, Cordelia. These people are your friends, remember?”

“I don't care,” she said defiantly. “I'm not scared of them.”

He smiled at her weakly. “Good, that means at least one of us isn't.”

“I'm not scared of anyone.” A small coffee-coloured child who had to be Gunn jumped out of the car and landed with a belligerent thump on the sidewalk. He looked up at Angel. “Your driving sucks.”

“If you'd eaten less ice cream you might not have felt so sick,” Angel returned levelly, picking him up.

“Where's my axe?” Gunn demanded.

Wesley gazed up at him. “Charles, you can't even lift it. Wait until you're big again.”

“You brought your book!”

“I can still read my book. And it might be useful in reversing the spell. Please, don't make a scene. Everyone's watching.”

“Let them watch.” Cordelia tried to toss her hair back defiantly, but it was too short and just swung prettily. Xander noticed she was still gripping Wesley's hand.

Wesley gave Angel a begging look and the vampire rested his hand on his shoulder. “It's going to be fine,” he told him. “Giles and Willow will reverse the spell and everyone in that house is a friend.”

“I hate being small,” Wesley murmured.

“Try being my size,” Gunn retorted crossly.

“Try having to wear off the rack clothes that make you look like Pollyanna,” Cordelia returned. “I thought better of Lorne.”

“You look very nice,” Wesley told her. “And Lorne had a lot of things to buy with very little money.”

Xander noticed that even with a belt cinched tight on its last hole, Wesley's trousers were too big for him and he had his shirt cuffs folded back several times and secured with safety pins.

Unexpectedly, Cordelia reached out and straightened his collar for him. “You're smarter than any of them,” she told him rapidly. “Don't let them pick on you.”

“Is that what they think of us?” Xander demanded of Willow in an undertone. “They think we fight vampires by night and bully small children by day?”

“They're so small,” Willow breathed. “I never thought I'd want to cuddle Cordelia but now I really do.”

“We did kind of bully Wesley when he was here as an adult,” Buffy admitted.

“He was annoying,” Xander returned. “And not just a little bit annoying. He was off the scale annoying.”

“I know.” But she sounded a little sorry all the same.

They had gathered in the hallway to welcome them in; Angel and his strange family; and the resemblance to refugees was hard to avoid. Angel was carrying Gunn in his right arm, the small boy belligerently sucking his thumb at them; the vampire's other hand available for Wesley to grip onto, which the boy seemed to be doing with all his might. Wesley was trying not to stagger under the weight of a leather shoulder bag while holding Cordelia's hand in his left.

“Hi,” Buffy said awkwardly. “How was the trip down?”

“Fine, thank you,” said Wesley politely. “Thank you for taking us in. I'm sorry about your loss.”

It was strange to hear him sound so adult but it occurred to Xander that the child Wesley had been might have said exactly the same thing. Buffy was saying something welcoming, he noticed, and Giles was making introductions of a kind.

Cordelia looked at him uncertainly and Xander stepped forward. “Hello, Cordelia, it's good to see you again. Hello, Wesley. This must be Gunn?”

“Charles Gunn.” The little boy stuck out a hand from his place on Angel's shoulder and Xander shook it gravely. Gunn looked at Wesley. “Which one is he?”

“Xander.” Cordelia looked up at him a little shyly.

Xander crouched down to be her level. “I'd forgotten what a cute little girl you were, Cordy. You're going to let me take pictures, right?”

“Only if Buffy will take me shopping first.” She plucked at her frock despondently. “This is so…not me.”

“Oh, Cordy,” Willow gasped. “You're so…adorable. Can Tara and I take you shopping tomorrow? There is this dress in town that is the cutest thing I've ever seen and you would look so sweet in it.”

Cordy looked up at her. “Willow, you know I love you, right, but I wouldn't be buried in any of the clothes you wear.”

“This is so you. You have to trust me.” Willow took her hand. “Hi again, Wesley. Nice to meet you, Gunn. Come and meet Tara, Cordy.”

“Oh my God!” That breathy squeal from Dawn made everyone jump.

Angel had been murmuring something apologetic to Buffy about being sorry to impose but even he jumped like a scalded cat at that sound and automatically looked over his shoulder. “What?”

Dawn was coming down the stairs as if mesmerized, her gaze fixed on Gunn. “Omigod, you are so cute.”

Wesley looked up at the little boy and sighed. “I told you.”

Gunn was still sucking his thumb and looking, Xander had to admit, like the poster child for cuteness. He glowered at Dawn, which unfortunately only made him look cuter.

“Let me have him.” She plucked Gunn out of Angel's arms and sat him on her hip. “Want to come and watch cartoons with me?”

“Dawn…” Buffy breathed. “He's older than you are, remember?”

Gunn looked at her sulkily for a moment and then tugged his thumb out of his mouth and said, “Okay. But only because you're too young for me to be rude to you.”

“You're the most adorable thing ever!” Dawn gave another squeal and hugged him. “Tomorrow, you have to meet all my friends.”

“He's not a toy!” Angel shouted after her. “He kills demons for a…” But Dawn had whisked Gunn away to the living room. Angel and Wesley exchanged a glance of resignation and Angel held out a hand for the bag Wesley was carrying. “Let me take that, Wes. It's heavy.”

“I've got it,” Xander said quickly. He gently took it from Wesley's shoulder. The kid was so thin it made him have to breathe around something that hurt him inside. Cordelia, except for the short hair, looked exactly as he remembered Cordy looking at that age, when she'd used to pull his hair in Elementary School. So, this must have been how Wesley was at eight; this thin and pale and quiet. His dark hair was spiky and tousled, unlike the brylcreemed style he remembered him having, and the kid was clearly half-blind without his glasses, the blue eyes looking huge as he gazed around at what seemed to be a succession of blurs.

“Be careful with it,” Wesley said. “The amulet and orb are in there. And a couple of the research books I thought might be useful. There are some more in the car.” He looked up at Giles for the first time, as if having to steel himself to do so. “Hello again, Mr. Giles.”

“Hello, Wesley,” said Giles gravely. “Interesting spell you appear to have fallen victim too. I'm sure we'll be able to reverse it without too much trouble.”

“I hope so.” Wesley tried to smile but it went nowhere near his eyes. “I really don't want to have to attend the Watcher's Academy twice. Pleasedon'ttellmyfather.” That was one breathless word.

Xander started and looked at Giles who was looking at Angel. The vampire put a reassuring hand on Wesley's shoulder. “Giles wouldn't do that. No one would do that.” His eyes were fixed on Giles and seemed to be trying to tell a whole story. Xander didn't get the fine details but the cold feeling inside didn't go away.

“Not if Wesley doesn't want me to.” Giles took the bag from Xander. “Shall we get you settled in?”

“What about food?” Xander said breathlessly. “You eat food right, Wesley?”

Wesley looked up at him in confusion. “Yes.”

“Well, why don't we get you a whole boatload of that. Right now. Pizza?” He looked at Angel. “Are they allowed pizza?”

“They can have what they like,” Angel replied. “They're adults.”

“If we regress you'll have to have a policy,” Wesley said wearily as he followed Giles into the living room. “A four year old Gunn on a sugar high probably wouldn't be a pretty sight. Come to think of it an adult Gunn on a sugar high can be a little…taxing.”

Xander caught Buffy's eye. “I'm going to go and buy pizza. Lots and lots of pizza. Possibly Chinese food as well. Maybe Mexican too. Want to come with?”

She looked at Angel questioningly. “You remember where everything is? Will you be okay while we get the food?”

“Sure.” He nodded at her and his gaze rested briefly on Xander with something approaching liking. “It's kind of you both.”

As they closed the front door behind them, Xander said, “So…Angel and his rugrats. Have to admit I'm finding that whole situation a little…”

“Freak-making?” Buffy returned.

“I was going for 'strange and disturbing'.” He darted her a sideways glance. “Is it tough seeing Angel again?”

“It's always tough seeing Angel.”

“And some people think he's easy on the eye.” Xander shook his head. “Given that you're not actually dating at the moment and he's doing that whole being doting and fatherly to the little people thing that some girls inexplicably find attractive in a brooding dark avengery type – even those with questionable hair care decisions – would this be the moment to point out that snuggling with a vampire is technically necrophilia?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Thank you so much for that image for which…eww. I don't need to be reminded that Angel and I getting groiny doesn't lead to hugs and puppies.”

“Just checking. We all know what rebounds can do.”

“Yes, Cordy rebounded from you to Wesley Whines-and-Snipes. You rebounded from Cordy to a vengeance demon famous for dismembering men for kicks. Drusilla, as I think we all remember from the ninety seven times Spike insisted on telling the world about it, took up with a chaos demon, and Willow became a lesbian. I think we're all clear that rebounds are not of the Good.”

“I'm not saying the word 'Parker',” Xander observed conversationally. “But I am thinking it really loudly. Also Cavegirl Buffy and the beer that time forgot.”

Buffy glared at him but then continued evenly: “Still getting my head around Cordy being so…”

“Small.”

“Have to admit that Gunn is very…”

“Cute.”

“But Wesley is disturbingly…”

“Skinny.” Xander nodded. “Right there with you.”

“I'm not sure bringing them to the Hellmouth was the best idea in the world. What if something happens to them?”

“Something already has happened to them, Buff. Hence the smallage of them. But, honestly, have you ever seen a kid that thin that wasn't in some Give Money Now charity appeal? Do you think his parents only fed him if he successfully translated a new passage on vampire killing or something? Do Watcher Kids work for food?”

“He never rebelled,” Buffy sighed. “Giles did. He had a grand old rebellion and got it out of his system – regressing spells excepted. Wesley seems to have spent his life doing what he's told.”

“Hence his waste of spaceness when they sent him here.”

“I never gave him a chance.” She looked down at the sidewalk. “He looked at me like he thought I was going to sock him or something. I know I was a bitch to him but I wasn't a bitch to him, was I?”

“I was right with you every step of the way, Buff,” Xander assured her. “Wesley was a jerk.”

They walked on for a moment in silence before Buffy said, “He was pretty thin when he was in Sunnydale. He just used to wear a lot of layers to cover it. Willow told me that when she went to see him in the hospital. Without his vest and his shirt and his waistcoat and his jacket with the padded shoulders – pretty skinny guy, she said. She said it was kind of sad that we made him feel like he needed to be bigger for us to listen to him. I didn't go and see him in the hospital, of course, because I didn't care.”

“Why should you?” Xander countered. “He was a jerk, Buffy. He really truly was.”

“And now he's a skinny little eight year old boy who's afraid he's going to forget everything he knows and everything he is and who only remembers that the last time he was in Sunnydale everyone treated him like crap.” Buffy grimaced. “And yet I feel like a bitch. How strange is that?”

“Why do you think I'm buying him pizza? I didn't go and see him in the hospital either. And I was glad it didn't work out with him and Cordelia. I was glad the Council fired him. I assumed he'd go back to England and I hoped I'd never see him again.”

“I'm sure he felt the same way about us. But he's stuck here with us anyway.”

“So, we expiate our irrational guilt by feeding him and reversing the spell.” Xander shrugged. “Atonement cheap at half the price.”

Buffy managed a wan smile. “Redemption through tacos. Sounds good to me.”

***

As he and Angel showed him around the house, Giles was watching Wesley carefully, trying to marry up this thin serious little boy with the man who had so exasperated him on his previous stay in Sunnydale. Cordelia was shrieking with laughter in another room with Willow and Tara, who seemed to be playing dress up with her using Dawn's old clothes. Gunn was giggling away on the sofa with Dawn over a cartoon; the giggles occasionally turning into gurgles and yells as she evidently tickled him, just because.

Giles looked at Angel. “Do you mind Dawn doing that to your colleague?”

Angel shrugged. “Everyone has. Us included. MiniGunn's too cute not to tickle.”

Giles noticed that as they passed the stairs, or rather the cupboard beneath them, Wesley flinched and pressed closer to Angel.

“Wes,” said Angel gently. “You're not really a kid, remember? You're still you. This isn't going to be a replay of your childhood.”

“I know,” said Wesley faintly, but he sounded less than convinced to Giles.

Giles frowned at him. “Would that be such a terrible thing, Wesley?”

Wesley pressed even closer to Angel who put a protective arm around his shoulders. “Once was enough,” Wesley whispered.

Angel sank down on the floor and took the little boy by the shoulders, turning him to face him. “Wes, it's not the same. No one did a time spell. You're you. You're just temporarily…little.”

“I'm a child, Angel,” Wesley said quietly, his small face serious and intent. “Soon, I'll probably forget what being an adult was like, and more importantly you'll forget I was an adult too. It won't be relevant any more anyway as that won't be what I am any more. You'll respond to me as if I were a child. The way people responded to me when I was a child…”

Angel's eyes widened in comprehension and his fingers tightened on the boy's shoulders. “That is not going to happen.”

“I'll be the way I was.” Wesley hung his head.

“There was nothing wrong with the way you were.” Angel shook him gently. “Wes! Look at me.”

The boy did so, facing him squarely.

Angel reached up and cupped his face with his cheek. “There was nothing wrong with the way you were,” Angel repeated gently. “Just with the people you were with.”

Wesley looked at the floor. “It's natural to love your children, Angel. It just happens. Unless the child is fundamentally unlovable…”

“Or the father is fundamentally incapable of showing affection to any one or anything.” Angel rose to his feet, taking Wesley's hand in his. “You're tired and you're hungry. Things will look better in the morning.”

“They'll still all be taking place several feet above my head,” the boy said quietly.

“We come bearing food!” Xander erupted into the hall in a wave of spicy foodsmells, he and Buffy both weighed down with bags leaking sauce, and pizza boxes smelling deliciously of melted cheese.

“We'd better lay the table.” Wesley flashed Angel a guilty look. “We should have done it while they were out.”

“We don't live here,” Angel shrugged. “Tara and Willow should have laid the table, so they're bad witches but we're in the clear.”

Wesley managed a faint smile that Giles was relieved to see and then Gunn was thundering into the hall, shouting “Food! Food!”

“Your friend certainly seems to have regressed quickly,” Giles observed.

“It may be because the spell hit him first,” Wesley explained.

“What regression?” Angel countered. “He sounds the same to me.”

Gunn ran up to Wesley and grinned at him, holding up his arms. “Hey, English. Pick me up.”

“You're too heavy,” Wesley told him but picked him up anyway, grunting as he hauled the small boy up.

“Why are you making Wesley pick you up when every girl in the place is dying to give you a cuddle?” Angel enquired.

Gunn looked at Wesley fondly. “Because Wes is picking me up because of who I really am not because of what I look like now.”

Angel shrugged. “Told you he hadn't regressed. But you're going to put Wesley's back out again.” Angel plucked Gunn from Wesley's arms and put him on his hip. “Wes, want to see if you can find some cushions to put on the chairs for ShortGunn and MiniCordy?”

As Wesley obediently went off to do so, Giles realized that this really could be the future for these three. If they couldn't find a way to reverse it then they were going to have to go through the whole process of growing up again.

“I'm taller than you,” Gunn pointed out to Angel.

“Not now you're not. You're shorter than everyone. Which is probably character building for you.”

“I can reach your hair from here.”

“Touch it and you die.”

“You're bluffing.”

“I used to eat babies. Try me.”

Giles left Angel and Gunn wrangling and passed the room where Tara and Willow were still plaiting Cordelia's hair with little shells wound into the braids, something he was quite sure that the adult Cordelia would never have allowed them to do. “Supper has arrived,” he told them and then went into the kitchen.

He somehow wasn't surprised to see that Wesley was conscientiously arranging cutlery on the table and had already placed cushions onto two chairs in readiness. “I couldn't find any napkins,” he looked at Giles a little fearfully, as if the man was going to scold him for that oversight.

Xander dumped another bag of food onto the table and opened a drawer for Wesley. “They're in here.”

Giles saw the look Xander darted at Wesley as the boy collected the napkins and was surprised by the level of unhappiness in Xander's eyes. It wasn't as if he'd ever liked Wesley. In fact he'd probably liked him the least out of all of them. Xander plastered a smile onto his face with difficulty as Wesley turned around. “Do you want to sit with Gunn and Cordy, Wesley? Or do you want a break from them?”

“I'll sit with them.” Wesley solemnly placed a napkin by each place setting. “It's probably a bit strange for them to not be able to reach things. Especially Gunn.”

“Can you see okay without your glasses, Wesley?” Buffy asked gently in between putting food onto plates.

He looked at her in mild confusion, clearly wrong-footed by her being nice to him. “No. Everything's blurry. But Angel said someone might be able to get me a pair that fit tomorrow.” He grunted in surprise as Gunn, unwisely released by Angel, charged into him and grabbed him around the waist, knocking him against the chair. Xander caught Wesley by the shoulders and held him up.

“Go, easy,” he told Gunn. “You're going to knock him over.”

“You're a really skinny kid, Wes,” Gunn observed.

“And you're a really bratty one,” Angel pointed out.

“He has the cute factor,” Dawn explained. “He can get away with anything.”

“He may be surprised,” Angel told Gunn grimly.

Gunn immediately held up his arms to Wesley again. “Pick me up.”

“No.” Angel grabbed him before Wesley could and hauled him up quickly enough to make Gunn gasp and then giggle. He deposited Gunn on the chair with the cushion and looked at Wesley. “Do you want a break from the brat?”

Wesley smiled. “I owe the brat. I'll sit with him.”

“Wes!” Cordelia charged into the room barefoot but now wearing what seemed to be a fancy dress costume of an angel, complete with lacy wings, and her shell-braided hair. “Look at me!” She did a perfect pirouette and Wesley, Angel, Buffy and Xander dutifully applauded.

Giles looked down his nose at Tara and Willow as they came into the room. “Someone's been having fun.”

“Well, it's years since Dawn was little enough to let us dress her up,” Willow pointed out.

“You look lovely,” Wesley told Cordelia quietly, indicating her chair. “I put you a cushion.”

“Great, now we look like we're not just small, we also all have haemorrhoids.”

“Bet you can't spell that now,” Gunn observed to her.

“Bet you never could.” She turned to Wesley. “I'm not sitting next to Gunn now he's a little brat.”

As Gunn reached across to hit her, Wesley caught his arm and folded it carefully across his chest. “Don't hit girls, Charles. You'll only feel bad about it later. I'll sit in between you. Try not to knock anything over.” He moved the cushion onto the next chair and took the one in between them.

“You're the one who knocks things over,” Cordelia reminded him, depositing her tulle and winged body onto her chair with surprising grace.

“I know. And that can only get worse now I'm a child again.” Wesley looked as if he were carrying all the burdens of the world upon his shoulders.

Gunn seemed full of enthusiasm for the plate of food Buffy put down in front of him and reached for the knife and fork, dropping his napkin on the floor heedlessly. Angel sat on the other side of him while Tara grabbed the chair next to Cordelia a second before Willow got to it, giving her a sly smile of triumph. Wesley got down from his chair, picked up Gunn's napkin and put it back on his lap. Gunn beamed at him and then held out his knife and fork. “Can you cut up my pizza for me?”

Wesley nodded, took the knife and fork from him and began to saw the pizza into bite-sized pieces.

“I want Wesley to cut up my pizza,” Cordelia pouted.

“Let me do his first, he's smaller than us,” Wesley said gently.

Tara quietly asked Cordelia if she couldn't cut her pizza up for her and after another pout from Cordelia she agreed. Buffy passed the water jug around and Giles tried to make small talk to cover the way they were all watching Wesley gamely sawing through Gunn's pizza for him while his own cooled rapidly.

“I can do that for him, Wes,” Angel said.

“No, you can't.” Gunn shook his head. “You don't even eat food.”

“I'm eating food right now,” Angel pointed out.

“Angel's a very good cook,” Wesley added in between cutting. “He makes the best eggs I've ever tasted. Is that small enough for you, Charles?”

“Yes.” Gunn took the knife and fork back from him. “Thank you.” He took one bite and then said, “Do you still have your scar?”

Wesley looked at him in surprise. “I don't know.”

“Let me see.” Gunn reached across and pulled up Wesley's shirt.

“Don't.” Wesley grabbed his hand. “There are ladies present.”

“But you're just a little kid now so no one cares.” Gunn pulled his hand free and yanked up the shirt to peer at Wesley's abdomen with close attention. “Wow. It's smaller but it's still there.”

“Oh, let me see.” Cordelia craned her neck to look while Wesley gently but firmly pushed them away and pulled down his shirt.

“Can we please eat supper now?” he enquired. “I'm hungry.”

“Wesley's right.” Angel glared at Gunn ominously. “Eat now. Irritate people later.”

“Who knew Gunn was such an annoying little brat?” Cordelia observed conversationally.

“Who knew you were such a spoilt princess?” Gunn countered. “Oh, that's right – everyone.”

“Don't fight,” said Wesley wearily, a moment before Angel could. “You're giving me a headache.”

“Not having your glasses is giving you a headache,” Cordelia told him. “On a scale of one to ten how blurry am I to you right now?”

Wesley looked at her for a moment and then shrugged. “Very.”

“So, how much was it worth when you told me I looked lovely then?”

“Let Wesley eat, Cordy,” Xander said. “Christ knows he looks as if he could do with a square meal or twenty.” As everyone looked at Xander he winced apologetically at Wesley. “Sorry.”

Wesley shrugged resignedly. “I don't mind. It did take me a little longer than the other boys at my school to fill out.”

Cordelia snorted. “Wes, you still haven't filled out.”

“Yes, I have.”

“No, you haven't.” Cordelia rolled her eyes. “You just learnt to wear more layers and clothes that are too big for you. That isn't filling out. That's covering up.”

Wesley sawed off a piece of pizza then said quietly, “I have muscles now.”

“You're skin and bone,” she assured him. “And I still think we should be paying you in food instead of money that you just squander on books.”

Gunn had motored through his pizza in the time it had taken Wesley to saw off a piece of his own and carefully chew and swallow it and now turned to him again. “Will you cut up my taco?”

“No.” Angel firmly took the knife and fork from Gunn. “I'll cut up your taco while Wesley eats. Stop being a brat.”

“I like being a brat,” Gunn explained. “And I didn't get to be one when I was this size the first time around because I was the eldest. Now I'm the youngest and everyone has to look after me. It's kind of cool.”

“And you're going to get kind of smothered if you don't knock it off,” Angel assured him.

“You and Wes are the ones who opened your stupid parcels and turned us into munchkins.”

Wesley winced guiltily. “Gunn has a point, Angel.”

“Gunn's the manipulative bratspawn from Hell, Wesley. Ignore him.”

“And you have no idea where the amulet and orb came from?” Giles enquired.

Wesley finished chewing and swallowing before politely saying, “No idea at all. We didn't recognize the handwriting.”

Xander said crossly to Giles, “Don't ask Wesley questions when he's eating.” He turned back to Wesley. “Is that pizza hot enough for you? I can put it in the microwave?”

Wesley looked surprised at the question. “It's fine, thank you. Very nice.”

“You can eat with your fingers if you like, Wesley,” Buffy offered. “I am.”

Wesley looked even more surprised at the suggestion. “I don't think I should in front of Gunn in case he stays little and has to grow up all over again.”

“Where did you learn to be the perfect older brother?” Cordelia demanded. “You're like the dictionary definition of an only child.”

Wesley sighed and went back to cutting up his pizza while keeping his elbows into his sides. “From Angel.”

“I think of myself more as the father figure,” Angel admitted, finishing cutting up Gunn's taco and giving him a warning look that told him he'd better not ask for anything else. “Of course, it was nicer when there were just the two kids around. Gunn so wasn't planned.”

“I wasn't planned either,” Dawn said to Gunn. “We often turn out best.”

“You're going to give him a complex,” Wesley told Angel.

“I'll make him pay for my therapy,” Gunn assured Wesley. “Can I have a glass of water?”

Wesley looked at the heavy water jug and the breakable glasses and winced. “You'd better ask a grown up.”

“You're a grown up.”

“My motor skills aren't though.”

“I'll do it.” Xander hastily got to his feet and picked up the water jug. “Just keep eating, Wesley.”

Xander poured water for everyone and placed the glasses where they could reach them, still watching Wesley out of the corner of his eye to see if he was eating. Giles could sympathize. Wesley was meticulous about cutting up his food with his knife and fork held just so, his elbows into his sides so there was less danger of him spilling anything, chewing everything very carefully with his mouth closed and then swallowing. He suspected that for Wesley meal times had always been formal occasions and eating with the fingers or talking with one's mouth full had been strictly forbidden.

Before Xander had got all the way around the table with the water jug, Gunn had accidentally joggled his elbow into his own glass and knocked it over, causing a gushing of water onto Angel's plate and accompanying shattering of glass.

In the moment of shocked silence, Wesley said hastily, “He didn't do it on purpose, Angel. It was an accident.”

Angel had turned to Gunn with what definitely looked like annoyance on his face but at the sight of Wesley's worried expression said, “It's okay. Accidents happen.”

“My food's wet!” Gunn's wail didn't sound manipulative to Giles, this time. More like a four year old shocked by a breakage and the possibility of a scolding narrowly averted. The way Gunn immediately climbed onto Wesley's lap seemed to prove it. Wesley sighed and sat Gunn down more comfortably, then put the forkful of food he had been about to eat in front of Gunn's mouth instead.

“It's okay. It wasn't your fault.” He looked at Angel again. “Shall I mop it up?”

“I'll do it.” Angel got to his feet. “You look after the brat.”

“My sleeve's wet,” Gunn said mournfully, wringing it out.

“I can change his clothes!” Dawn leapt to her feet at the prospect. “Oh! He should have a bath!”

“I don't think he'd like to be bathed by a girl,” Wesley said gently to Dawn. “No offence.”

“I don't mind.” Gunn looked up mischievously. “I've been bathed by girls before.”

Wesley sighed. “But if you turn back into an adult, Dawn will still be fourteen and you'll feel like a pervert.”

“No, I won't,” Gunn insisted.

Dawn grinned delightedly and looked at Buffy. “Can I give Gunn a bath and read him a story?”

“Ask Angel,” she said.

Dawn gave Angel a begging look and the vampire looked up from his mopping to shrug. “Sure, knock yourself out. Or knock him out, which would probably a better idea.”

Gunn stuck his tongue out at Angel. “I knew there was a reason I always liked Wesley better than I like you.”

“Yes, he's a pushover and I'm not.” Angel nodded to Dawn. “His stuff is in the suitcase in the bedroom next to yours. His are the cartoon animal pyjamas and the red toothbrush.”

As Dawn scooped up Gunn and whisked him away, making him giggle hysterically as she evidently tickled him all the way up the stairs, Wesley gave Angel a reproachful look. “I don't think you're taking your parental responsibilities very seriously where Gunn's concerned.”

“He's a brat!” Angel countered.

Wesley said quietly, “A brat whose parents had their throats ripped out by vampires when he was twelve and who had to stake his own sister last year, remember? Don't you think he's entitled to act up a little?”

Giles winced and looked at Angel for confirmation. The vampire sighed. “Okay, I'll be endlessly patient. But I don't see why he's making you run around after him as well as me.”

Wesley bent back to his pizza. “He ran around after me enough when I was in a wheelchair and I couldn't get up any stairs or in and out of a car without him carrying me.”

“I carried you too,” Angel said quietly. “And you were only in that wheelchair because you took a bullet that was meant for him.”

“You were shot?” Xander looked at Wesley in shock. The Wesley he had known had been such a physical coward and had made such a fuss about even the prospect of pain that he would have expected him to tell them about it the second he was over the threshold. But this Wesley, despite being twenty years younger than the other one in appearance, seemed to have undergone some significant period of growing up.

“By a zombie policeman. There was blood everywhere.” Cordelia pushed her plate away. “I don't want to eat any more.”

Wesley murmured to her, “Buffy and Xander went out and got that food especially…”

“It's okay,” Buffy said quickly. “No one has to eat if they don't want to.”

“Except for Wesley, who does,” Xander insisted. As all the adults looked at him he rolled his eyes. “I'm sorry but the kid is thin.” He glared at Angel. “What do you pay your people in anyway, buttons?”

“I'm not in charge of the agency any more,” Angel shrugged. “Wesley is.”

Giles felt as if his world had slightly tipped off its normal axis. “You work for Wesley?”

“Yes. He's the boss. He says where we go, and what we do when we get there. It usually involves Cordy having a vision of a smelly demon with attitude, Wesley identifying aforementioned demon through research and coming up with a strategy for tackling it and then me, Gunn and Wes going in there and hacking.” Angel shrugged. “What it may lack in subtlety it makes up for in simplicity.”

“Angel went all dark side and loonytune on us and fired us,” Cordelia explained helpfully. “So we had to set up by ourselves. We elected Wesley to be leader because we…” She looked at Wesley for a moment. “Why did we do that again?”

“I have no idea,” he returned equably. “Too much tequila?”

She held up a small finger. “Oh no, that's right, it was because when I got a vision when were all totally junk-faced and incapable of walking a straight line, you were the one who took charge and saved the girl from being eaten by a demon.”

“Yes, by the very cunning ruse of letting it bite me until Gunn killed it.” Wesley took a sip of water. “Another great plan from the man who brought you the 'let's stop Gunn getting beaten up by the police by being shot by them' strategy.”

“You delivered a rousing speech in that alley which I don't actually remember right now but I know it made me climb up a very dirty drainpipe to a place where I knew there was a big scary demon with teeth and claws so it must have been pretty damned good.”

Wesley frowned. “I don't think you can say 'damned' now you're six. You probably have to say 'dashed' or 'dratted'.”

“Oh, can I say 'fuck'?”

Wesley grinned at her. “Almost certainly not, I'd say. Besides, I don't think Willow knows words like that. Probably best for her not to learn them.”

“Hey!” Willow looked up. “I so do know words like that. I'm just not allowed to say them in front of Dawn. Or you now. So, stop saying them too.”

Tara whispered to Cordelia, “She doesn't know words like that. Wesley was right.”

Cordelia beamed up at Tara, revealing a slightly goofier version of her adult thousand watt smile. On the adult Cordelia it had always been impressive but even Giles had to privately admit that on a six-year-old Cordelia it was quite simply adorable. Cordelia addressed the table, “Does anyone know if it's still cool to be raised by a single sex couple or is being brought up by lesbians out of fashion again?”

“You want Willow and Tara to adopt you?” Angel demanded in a hurt voice.

Cordelia shrugged. “Look at this way, Angel. If Willow adopts me, I get Tara as a stepmom. If you adopt me, I get Darla. Who would you choose to be wrapping your presents on Christmas Eve?”

“I was hoping to keep the family together.” Angel shrugged. “But, hey, if you want to have to wear hippy clothes like Willow and spend your time breathing in scented candles and feeling the aura of crystals you go right ahead and heartlessly abandon me and your brothers.”

“I don't wear 'hippy clothes',” Willow protested.

Cordelia looked at her. “Yes, you do. Angel has a point.”

“I'd miss you,” Wesley said. “You know how to stop Angel getting cranky.”

“Yeah, I rule at that. He'd always be yelling at you boys.”

“I would not yell at them,” Angel retorted. “Well, okay, I'd probably yell at Gunn, but I wouldn't yell at Wesley.”

“Good, because I'd bite you if you did.” Cordelia flashed her smile at him again. “And I have really good teeth.”

“You can't yell at Gunn,” Buffy said in horror. “He's like the UberCute. He's the essence of cuteness that other cute kids just aspire to reach.”

“You noticed that when he was breaking your glassware and drowning my food, did you?”

Buffy shrugged. “You have to admit he did it really cutely.”

“You're going to get such a shock when he's returned to normal,” Cordelia shook her head. “Because then he's just six feet four of twenty-something demon killing male with a slim but buff body, boyish good looks and the kind of smile that makes strong women…” She broke off. “Okay, I'm not saying it would entirely be a disappointment for the non-lesbian contingent but it would still be a shock.”

Buffy looked worried. “You don't think this spell could just wear off by itself, do you? Because Dawn is bathing him right now…”

“Well, that would certainly save you having to make any of those tedious birds and the bees explanations, Buffy,” Giles observed.

“I'm thinking we should keep him.” Buffy popped some pizza into her mouth. “It sounds to me like a win-win scenario. We either get the cutest kid on the planet to play with or a really hot guy to…whatever.”

“Pervert,” Xander told her.

“I was just thinking aloud.”

“No one is getting my kids,” Angel said firmly. “The family that slays together stays together. And even if we can't reverse the spell, give it twenty years and I'll still be this age and Wes and Gunn will be useful demon killers again. Of course, you'll all be old and wrinkly…”

“Let's pelt him with bread rolls?” Buffy suggested.

Wesley looked across at Giles for the first time, squaring his narrow shoulders as he did so. “Do you think you can reverse it, Mr. Giles?”

Giles decided to be honest. “I don't know. I haven't encountered a spell like it before and my initial research suggests that a successful age reversal spell is a somewhat rare occurrence, but I'm sure that if I have a few days to study the amulet and the orb I will be able to make some progress, and I can promise you that I won't give up until I've found some kind of explanation for what happened to you.”

Wesley nodded. “Thank you. Perhaps, tomorrow, if someone could get me some glasses that fit, and if my brains haven't entirely turned to mush, I could help you with the research?”

Giles thought about it and then inclined his head. “Thank you, Wesley. I'd appreciate the help.”

“Where am I sleeping?” Cordelia demanded.

“We thought you could share with Dawn,” Willow explained. “And Angel, Gunn and Wesley can all share a bed.”

“I want a bath too,” Cordelia's lower lip began to tremble. “And I want to share with Willow and Tara. Dawn likes Gunn best. Just because he's all shortassy now.”

“Don't be difficult, Cordy,” Wesley pleaded, darting an anxious look at Angel. “Buffy and the others are giving up a lot of their time and space to us.”

“But I want to stay with Willow!” Cordelia wailed. “I know Willow. I picked on Willow at school for years. She's comforting.”

“Let's get everyone into the bath and then into their jammies,” Buffy suggested getting to her feet. “We can worry about who sleeps where afterwards.”

“We don't mind.” Willow looked at Tara who quickly nodded. Willow continued swiftly: “We can look after Cordelia. And tomorrow we can take her shopping for shoes.”

Giles personally thought that was a masterstroke on Willow's part as if the combination of 'shopping' and 'shoes' didn't pull Cordelia back from the brink of her temper tantrum, nothing would.

Clearly the words had lost none of their charm as Cordelia went from the edge of tears to the edge of a smile. “Shopping? For shoes?”

“Yes, and we can have ice cream too,” Tara added quickly.

“You two are way too good at this,” Giles observed to Tara who smiled secretively.

“You have to see this!”

The squawk from Dawn made them all rush into the hall, Angel pushing Wesley behind him to keep him safe as Xander did the same with Cordy.

The sight that greeted them was a slightly damp, widely beaming four year old Gunn in his brand new cartoon pyjamas, all warm and contented from the bath, standing at the top of the stairs, holding onto a delighted Dawn's hand.

“Oh my god,” said Buffy faintly. “He's so cute.”

“He redefines cute,” Xander admitted.

Willow nodded. “It's like someone took the cute bar and moved it up to a new Olympic record height.”

Cordelia plucked sulkily at Wesley's sleeve. “What are we, chopped liver?”

Wesley smiled at her gently. “You have to admit, Gunn does look kind of sweet in his pyjamas.” Seeing her expression he amended hastily, “But not as sweet as you in that angel costume.”

“That would mean so much more if I wasn't a blur to you right now,” she muttered at him but Giles saw the glimmer of a smile all the same.

“Isn't he the cutest thing ever?” Dawn demanded.

“It's just because he's small,” Angel returned. “No one thinks Gunn's cute normally.”

“Shows all you know.” Gunn stuck his tongue out at Angel.

“No one's going to think you're cute when you're going through puberty again and are all zits and hormones.”

“Don't even talk about that.” Buffy told Angel before she headed up the stairs. “Just drink in the cuteness that is Gunn now.”

Cordelia shrugged sulkily. “Watch him clean demon pus out of his ears a few times, then see how cute you think he is.”

“Gunn's going to stay with me tonight,” Dawn explained. “I'm going to read him a story and I think he should have someone with him in case he has nightmares.”

“What story are you planning to read him, Dawnie?” Xander enquired. “The Murders in the Rue Morgue?”

“Sounds cool.” Gunn looked up at Dawn hopefully. “Can we have that one?”

“You can have Winnie the Pooh and like it,” Buffy told him sternly as she picked him up. “And, Dawn, you have to remember that Gunn is a person, not a puppy, which I'm certainly bearing in mind as I tickle him like this…”

As the rest of her sentence was drowned in Gunn's delighted squeals and giggling, Cordelia looked at Wesley again, “You don't think Gunn's cuter than me, do you?”

“No one's cuter than you, Cord,” Xander told her, picking her up.

“Hey! No touching!” she protested.

“What, you don't want me to do this…?” Xander tossed her up into the air and then caught her. She shrieked with glee and then told him unconvincingly to put her down right now; clearly nothing other than pleased when he ignored her to toss her up into the air and catch her again while Willow and Tara laughingly remonstrated.

Angel shook his head. “Serves him right if she throws up on him.” He looked down at Wesley. “These people have serious child substitute issues.”

***

It surprised no one that, when bedtime came around, Gunn was carried off by Dawn – albeit after a spirited battle with Buffy. Angel's hearing was good enough for him to pick up Dawn's voice reading of the arrival of Tigger in the Hundred Acre Wood. He had waited for Gunn to demand an adult book or to express some boredom at this choice of bedtime reading, but he had seemed entirely enraptured. Angel wondered how long it was since Gunn had known something approximating to 'normal' family life. He had been forced to grow up so very fast after the death of his parents, shuffled from shelter to shelter until he had taken to the streets on a self-appointed mission to clean up LA from demons and keep his sister safe. So far he had failed agonizingly at one of those tasks and was probably making less headway than he'd hoped on the other, so perhaps it wasn't so surprising that at least a part of him was quite enjoying being too small to have the weight of the world resting on his shoulders. Perhaps he needed a break from being a grown up more than any of them.

Angel didn't know if the young man he knew as a fearless – and sometimes downright reckless – demon killer had reverted so completely to being a child because of the biological imperative of being crammed into the body of a four-year old, or if the adult part of Gunn had just decided to let go for a while; to indulge himself in a childhood that had happened so long ago in terms of life experience that it must feel almost as distant as Angel's own. Perhaps the best holiday for a guy with a death-wish and all that anger inside him, was some time being the child he had never had a chance to be, with no responsibilities and an older sister who took care of him.

Cordelia had insisted that she should be allowed to spend the night with Willow and Tara with a view to scoping them out as possible adoptive parents. Angel had counter-insisted that he would launch a vicious custody battle for Cordelia if Willow and Tara attempted to steal her from him but had told Dawn she could keep Gunn for as long as she wanted as long as she didn't break him by too vigorous tickling. Gunn's response had been to stick his tongue out at him while cuddling up to Dawn triumphantly.

“You're going to give him a complex,” Wesley repeated in an urgent whisper.

Angel waved aside his concerns. “Hellbrat knows I love him really. You ready for your bath?”

“I can have a bath myself,” Wesley insisted.

“I know. But let me run it for you…”

Angel had ended up hovering near the bathroom door, which he insisted Wesley left unlocked, occasionally peering in to make sure that Wesley was okay, the little boy his friend had now become solemnly soaping himself and rinsing whenever he looked in, occasionally pausing to gaze mournfully at his stick thin little arms. Angel hadn't thought of the adult Wesley as having the kind of physique someone would pine after, but child Wesley evidently did, and it was true that adult Wesley, for all his thinness, was perfectly capable of reaching a high shelf, picking up a heavy book, hefting a lethal weapon and decapitating a demon, all things it was now impossible for little Wesley to do.

“Do you need any help washing your hair?” Angel called into him.

Wesley shook his head stubbornly. He eyed up the showerhead, then evidently decided the risk of it spraying water everywhere was too great and settled for upending a jug of water over the shampooed hair, rinsing off the suds thoroughly. Angel felt that tight feeling in his chest give another little spasm, because Wesley was so determined to be good and no trouble, and he couldn't help wishing it came from a happy place rather than what he feared was probably a trying-to-avert-for-as-long-as-possible-the-moment-when-no-one-would-love-him place.

As Wesley washed himself, Angel could hear Cordelia giggling in Tara and Willow's room. He suspected that a part of Cordelia, of any size, was desperate for some female companionship. He knew she had grown a lot closer to Wesley and Gunn over the past few months and that the guys, in their way, did try to be good company for her, but he doubted they could hold their own in a conversation about fashion or shoes or – presumably – boys, while even Lorne's taste was conspicuously different from Cordelia's. Pride might have prevented her from admitting that she would have liked nothing more than an evening in with other girls talking about something inconsequential rather than another evening spent trying to balance the books, flinching from the aftermath of another vision headache, or out trying not to get herself impaled on demon talons. He knew that she was ashamed of how shallow her interests had been in the past, but that didn't mean she was now an entirely new human being. She might have a purpose she had never had in the past, but he suspected that there were things she couldn't discuss with any of them in the way she could with another woman. Not the least of which was probably how annoying they could all be at times just for being male and therefore woefully ignorant on so many matters that another woman would have understood in a word. Being back in Sunnydale was reminding him of a lot of things, not the least of which was how very different Cordelia had been when living here. It was hard to believe that girl, however much she had grown as a person, could really be satisfied spending evening after evening watching the same six movies with Wesley and Gunn, or nights in with a headache and Phantom Dennis.

“You don't know her at all. For months now you haven't cared to. Otherwise you might have realized that our Cordelia has become a very solitary girl. She's not the vain, carefree creature she once was... It's the visions, you see. The visions that were meant to guide you. You could turn away from them. She doesn't have that luxury. She knows and experiences the pain in this city, and because of who she is, she feels compelled to do something about it. It's left her little time for anything else. You'd have known that – if you hadn't had you head firmly up your... place that isn't on top of your neck...”

He got that now, he really did. He still wasn't certain that he had the right to drag vulnerable humans onto the treadmill of his redemption along with him. He had done terrible things, and if he wanted to atone by trying to do some good to make up for all the evil he had done that was his choice. It felt fitting that the Powers should send him impossible tasks and he should do his best to carry them out, a modern day vampire Hercules, albeit – he liked to think – better groomed, and hopefully a little brighter. But Cordelia, Wesley, and Gunn had nothing to atone for. They had made mistakes, certainly, and other people had suffered because of them, but they had never set out to do harm; their mistakes certainly could not compare with his. Doyle had told him that he needed contact with human beings to connect him to the world, and he knew now that he had been right. Separated from them, he became someone else; someone with free rein to deal with evil as he saw fit, certainly, but someone whose moral compass just kept spinning out of control without them to anchor him to magnetic north. There was no question in his mind now that he needed these people and that he was a greater force for good in their company than without it, but did they need the constant danger, physical pain, and emotional stress that went with being his anchors to the human world? He had agonised about that for a long time before he had driven to their new office and asked if he could help.

The fact was they had made their choice. He had given them a way out. He had fired them and freed them from all their obligations to him by acting like the world's biggest undead asshole. Their response had been to do the same job without him at a considerably higher risk to their own lives. Wesley had almost died, and there must have been other dangers that they'd faced that could have claimed any one of them. He had been very lucky to get them back alive, he knew that, and there wasn't a day right now when he wasn't grateful that they had still been there for him to come back to, especially given how close they had all come to losing Wesley. If they were going to fight demons with him or without him it was better if they did it with him, where at least he had a chance to help keep them in one piece while they were doing it.

Glancing back across at Wesley, the boy looked as soaped, rinsed, and ready for bed as one could reasonably expect of anyone who had been six feet two in the morning and was four foot four now. In trying to get used to the places that he now no longer had, he had probably missed a few spots here and there but he was a lot cleaner than any of them usually were by this time of night and was at least unusually free of demon goop. Watching Wesley automatically feel his chin to see if he needed to shave and then grimace at the size of his hand and smoothness of his skin, Angel felt another pang of sympathy for him.

“Can you get out okay?” Angel asked him.

“I'm fine,” Wesley assured him, but when he stood up in the slippery bath he lost his footing and caught his hip hard on the side of the bath. Angel's attention had been temporarily diverted by the sight of Xander – who he had imagined had gone home hours before – carrying mugs of hot chocolate towards the room shared by Willow, Tara and now Cordelia. He heard the ominous thump of body on porcelain and wheeled around at once.

“Wes…?”

When there was no answer, he hurried into the bathroom to find Wesley biting his lip hard to keep from crying out, tears bright in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Angel lifted him out of the bath and hastily wrapped him in a towel. “What happened?”

“I slipped.” Wesley looked up at him, eyes still watering. “I was clumsy.”

“Let me see.” Angel anxiously lifted aside the towel and looked at the red mark on Wesley's hip that was going to be a spectacular bruise in the morning. “Let's put some arnica on that.”

“It doesn't matter,” Wesley said quickly.

“Of course it matters.” Angel wrapped him up more warmly in the towel and sat him on the chair in the bathroom, before going through the cabinet. He wasn't surprised to find that there was still an array of First Aid equipment there that would not have looked out of place in an ER, including arnica cream, and squeezed some of the cool ointment onto the bruise.

He rubbed Wesley's hair gently with another towel and then shook out the plain blue PJs that Lorne had bought for Wesley. The green demon had done pretty well, Angel thought, buying Wesley conservative clothes in greys and blues that drew as little attention to their wearer as possible while making sure Cordelia had sweet frocks with frills, and Gunn had tough little kid clothes with plenty of extra seams and pockets and padded elbows and knees, and thick soles with extra grippy rubber grips on his even tougher little trainers. These navy blue cotton pyjamas were very Wesley, and Lorne had even managed to find a narrower than usual cut so they didn't hang on him too awkwardly. A quick turn up of the pants and a fold back of the sleeves and they almost fitted him. Angel put some tissues into his pocket and promised him again that someone would get him some glasses that fitted him tomorrow.

“Have you brushed your teeth?” Angel asked, trying not to enjoy it quite as much as he was, but loving this, he had to admit, all the parental rituals that other people took for granted that were usually denied to him.

Wesley held up his toothbrush and Angel lifted him up so he could look in the mirror. It was strange to see the little boy suspended there as if by magic and Angel had that usual pang when a mirror refused to reflect him. In the past it had made him wonder if there was some connection between looking glasses and God, as if they were disdaining him from some higher command. Sometimes he still remembered the feel of that crucifix sizzling on his skin.

God doesn't want you, but I still do...

Cordelia was right about that anyway. As stepmothers went, Darla was not a suitable candidate.

Wesley spat delicately into the wash basin, and when Angel set him back down, struggled with the taps before pouring himself a tumbler of water to solemnly rinse. Ritual seemed to be important to the child Wesley had become. Perhaps that was boarding school, or perhaps it had been dinned into him at home, either way it made for a child who was almost too easy, too well behaved, too easy to forget because he would never be any trouble and therefore didn't need any attention.

“Do you want some hot chocolate?” Angel asked him.

Wesley's face lit up momentarily and then he shook his head. “We might wake someone up.”

“We can be really quiet,” Angel insisted. “And you're having a story before bedtime whether you want one or not. I don't get too many chances to indulge my frustrated parental yearnings so I'm intending to pamper myself.” He gave Wesley's hair a last rub that made it stick up in a way that Wesley would no doubt have hated if he was aware of it but which Angel found particularly cute, helped him into his sombre tartan robe, the belt of which would have gone around his waist three times with no difficulty, belted it as well as he could and then took his hand.

“Do you really have frustrated parental yearnings?” Wesley asked as they reached the corridor.

Angel tightened his grip on his hand. “Sometimes. It's like anything you can't have. You think about it sometimes.”

“But if the Shanshu prophecy is right then maybe you can one day.”

Angel looked down into Wesley's earnest upturned face, big blue eyes trying to focus on the blur that he must be, and realized that he wanted this more than he'd ever allowed himself to admit; wanted to be human and able to offer Buffy a normal life with normal kids; except she could never be normal either, she had her mythic destiny to fulfil as the saviour of mankind and he had his undead atonement to work through. “Maybe,” he said gently. “But in the meantime, I have the three of you.”

Hearing a giggle from Dawn's room that proved Gunn was still awake, Angel rolled his eyes and let go of Wesley's hand.

“He's just over excited,” Wesley said quickly. “It's strange being a child again, Angel. He isn't trying to be naughty.”

Angel opened his mouth to remonstrate and saw Wesley twisting his fingers nervously. “Wes, no one is going to get angry with any of you, okay? Not really angry. Everyone knows this is weird for you.”

“It's just… He's only four. I know we remember being grown up, but we don't feel grown up. Our bodies don't work like they feel they should do. Everything is in the wrong place and nothing is where it should be, especially us.”

“I know,” Angel said gently. “But he needs to go to sleep so I'm going to tell him that. I'm not going to…” He didn't know what Wesley thought he was going to do, yell, presumably, or spank, or lock up in the dark. “I'm not going to get cross,” he finished lamely.

Wesley didn't look very reassured, and he also looked small and thin and damp standing in the corridor by himself. Angel could feel his protective instincts where these three were concerned – already in overdrive after coming so close to losing them all through his own stupidity – crank up another dangerous notch. Angel knocked quietly on Dawn's door. “Are you decent?”

An outbreak of giggling and then Dawn called back an affirmative. Angel opened the door and looked in at a Gunn who was cuddled up in Dawn's bed, clutching her teddy bear, sucking his thumb, smears of chocolate on his hands, and silver paper on the bed that revealed they had been having a mini-midnight feast. “Don't come crying to me if he's sick on you,” Angel told her.

Gunn just giggled again and cuddled up closer to Dawn who gazed down at him dotingly. She was also wearing pyjamas and looked besotted. “He's so cute,” she breathed to Angel. “And he can read really well for a four year old.”

“Perhaps because he's actually twenty-three,” Angel returned.

Gunn sucked his thumb at him in a way that denoted contempt and dismissal. Angel rolled his eyes and turned to Dawn. “Tell me this isn't a schoolnight for you?”

“Buffy said I could skip school tomorrow on account of being sick.”

“I suppose wanting to play with Gunn all day could be considered a form of illness,” Angel said dryly. “Just don't let him get overtired or he'll throw a tantrum.”

“You wouldn't throw a tantrum, would you?” Dawn looked dotingly at Gunn who gazed back at her with a blink blink of innocence out of big brown eyes that Angel couldn't believe would fool anyone with a 'y' chromosome – although it seemed to work perfectly on Dawn.

“Not unless it was cute,” Gunn took his thumb out of his mouth to say.

“I bet he throws the cutest tantrums,” she sighed.

“We'd better find a way to reverse this because if he stays a kid you are laying up so much trouble for yourself for later, Dawn.” Shaking his head, Angel started to back out of the door. He turned around in time to see Xander tip-toeing out of Willow's room with the now empty mugs on his tray. Still not attuned to there being people below chest height, he backed straight into Wesley, stumbled, and dropped the tray, crockery smashing everywhere.

Wesley backed into the wall, saying rapidly, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry…”

Xander looked up at him in shock from amidst the broken crockery. “It's okay, Wesley,” he said at once. “My fault. I didn't see you there. Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“The cups are broken,” Wesley said faintly. He dropped down onto his hands and knees and began to stack the smashed pieces onto the tray.

When the door opened and Buffy came out of her room the look he gave her was one of sheer panic. “Is everyone okay?” she enquired.

“I dropped the tray,” Xander told her quickly. “My fault. Sorry. Go back to bed.” He turned back to where Wesley was snatching up the broken crockery rapidly while trying to mop at the spilled cocoa dregs with the handkerchief from his pocket, still saying 'sorry' over and over as he did so. “Wesley, it's okay. It wasn't your fault. It was my fault. Hey…” Xander caught his wrist gently, and took the crockery from his fingers. “This is sharp you could cut yourself. Let me do it.”

Angel stepped back into Dawn's room, leaving the door open a crack and putting a finger to his lips to Dawn and Gunn to be quiet, which, somewhat to his surprise, they obeyed.

Buffy hurried down the corridor in her pyjamas and robe. “Are you okay, Wesley?” she asked anxiously. “Did you get knocked over?”

“The cups are broken,” he repeated in a small voice.

“They were old cups,” she told him. “We didn't even like those cups, and we have other cups. Better cups. Some of them with handles. Do you want some hot chocolate? I want hot chocolate.”

“Me too.” Xander stacked the rest of the broken crockery onto the tray, stood up and held out a hand to Wesley. “Want to come and help us drink our hot chocolate?”

Wesley looked around. “I think I should wait for Angel.”

“It's not a very big house,” Buffy told him gently. “I'm sure Angel will be able to find us in the kitchen.” She also held out a hand to Wesley. “Come on. Hot chocolate is like Disney films, you have to have a child around as an alibi for indulging yourself. Did you get Disney films in England? I'm not sure Giles knows who Mickey Mouse is…”

Angel watched as she coaxed Wesley to come with her, Xander, while juggling the tray and broken crockery, took his other hand. Wesley tentatively murmured that he liked Fantasia but hadn't seen it in years and Buffy promised to let him watch it with Gunn tomorrow.

“…You can act long suffering, if you like. I used to do that with Dawn all the time when she was watching some cartoon I thought I was too old to enjoy but which I really wanted to see.”

“Now Dawn does that with me,” Xander explained.

“Do you like marshmallows?” Buffy added as they went down the stairs. “I'm feeling a midnight feast craving coming on…”

Angel waved goodnight to Dawn and Gunn, the latter, he noted, now having to fight to keep his eyes open and already starting to slump sleepily against Dawn. “Sweet dreams,” he told her.

She cuddled down in the bed, pulling Gunn up against her as if he were a teddy bear and Angel backed out of their room and closed the door quietly. He wondered exactly how she and Gunn were ever going to be able to look each other in the eye if he did turn back into his usual shape again. Gunn wasn't incoherent and clumsy around women the way Wesley was, but he was thoroughly gentlemanly and only mildly flirtatious. Angel suspected he was going to be mortified about the barefaced cheek of spoilt Child Gunn once he was Adult Gunn again. But given what a brat Child Gunn was, Angel also kind of thought he had it coming.

He gave Xander and Buffy ten minutes alone with Wesley before wandering into the kitchen as if he hadn't been hovering outside watching them make Wesley hot chocolate and marshmallows and sit with him and coax him into talking to them.

“You're spoiling all my fun,” he told Buffy. “I wanted to make him hot chocolate.”

“I'll tell Giles to go-slow on that spell reversal,” she shrugged. “Then you can make tomorrow night's hot chocolate.”

“I don't think Mr. Giles will be able to reverse it in a day.” Wesley surreptitiously licked marshmallow from his fingers. “I tried to look it up on the drive down but it was difficult to read the books without my glasses and it made me car sick. I didn't see anything about de-ageing spells except that people are always trying to do them and they never work. It may take him weeks.”

“So, you get to be a kid for a few weeks,” Xander said cheerfully. “That just means you get to do kid things.”

“ 'Kid things'?” Wesley looked at him warily. “Like what?”

“You tell me, Wes,” Angel said quietly. “What did you want to do when you were a kid that you couldn't?”

“Make Daddy proud of me.” Wesley tried to smile to show it was a joke but there was a frozen look on his face that made Angel want to punch a wall, or a man back in England, very hard. “Get picked first when people were choosing teams. Not be always falling over and breaking things. Not be afraid of the dark.”

Xander's expression had changed during Wesley's words from confusion to grim comprehension but he managed to say lightly: “Your childhood sounds a lot like mine, Wesley. But there are other kid things one can do that don't involve ritual humiliation. They would involve playing with toys, watching way too much television, eating more chocolate than the human body should logically be able to consume… The list is pretty much endless.”

“Tomorrow we'll take you out and get you some new glasses,” Buffy told him comfortingly. “Then you'll at least be able to see the television and chocolate and so on.”

“And help Mister Giles with the research.” Wesley brightened at the prospect of being useful.

Buffy and Xander exchanged a look and then Xander nodded. “That too. Although, if you don't give me an excuse to dig out my Star Wars tapes and watch them again on the pretext of showing them to you, I will sulk.”

Wesley managed a faint smile. “I expect I could manage to do both.”

“Are you ready for bed?” Angel asked him.

Wesley nodded and got to his feet, swaying as he did so. Xander caught him gently by the shoulders and held him steady. “Easy there, Wesley. It's been a long day for you guys.”

“Do you want me to carry you?” Angel asked him.

Wesley looked a little ashamed but gazing up at the staircase nodded dumbly.

“I thought you'd never let me,” Angel grinned at him and scooped him up into his arms. He felt terrifyingly light and breakable. Angel had a sudden memory as he did so of a bruised and bleeding Wesley unconscious in the burning wreckage of their offices and tightened his grip protectively. “It's going to be okay, Wes. Giles will reverse the spell and you can be who you are again. But in the meantime, just try to make the best of this, okay?”

Wesley nodded again. “Yes, Angel.”

“And think of all the blackmail material we're going to have on Gunn by the time it's over.”

A genuine smile from Wesley at last. “That's a very good point.”

“What do you want me to read to you?” Angel looked over his shoulder at Buffy. “There are only girls' books in our room.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Well, there are only girls in this house. What's wrong with The Secret Garden anyway? Or A Hundred And One Dalmatians?”

“Oh,” Wesley lit up at that. “I like both of those.”

Angel shrugged. “ Dalmatians it is.”

“You can read to me from a grown up book if you want. I don't mind.”

“I know you don't, Wes,” Angel said gently. “But I do. Kid things, remember?”

Wesley managed a smile. “Kid things it is.” He looked over Angel's shoulder and said politely, “Good night, Buffy. Good night, Xander.”

As they said their goodnights, Angel looked back at their faces and saw the same lump in the throat expressions on their faces that he was trying so hard to keep off his own. Gunn was too cute to induce anything except doting looks, Cordelia so adorable she invited smiles as wide as her own, but Wesley made one feel pinched inside, painfully aware of all the love no one had ever shown him and which he didn't expect to receive. As they headed up the stairs, Angel pressed a kiss into his damp hair and didn't care who saw it.

***

Rupert Giles moved the orb out of the range of his elbow, compared the amulet in his hand with the illustration in the book for the second time and then conceded defeat. It did not match. Just as it had not matched with any of the last thirty-six pictures of amulets with which he had made a comparison. It was probably in here somewhere. He had another three hundred or so amulets with which to compare it in this volume of Mystical Amulets & Pendants of the Ancient Far East alone. But finding it was not going to be fun.

Usually he would have had at least Willow to help him and quite possibly an entire quotient of 'Scoobies', but since the arrival of Angel and his 'children' everyone was otherwise engaged. Willow and Tara were currently taking Cordelia around every shoe and clothes shop in Sunnydale in between buying her foodstuffs that Giles was quite certain would not be good for her beautiful teeth. Dawn was having a Disney cartoon marathon with Gunn while Angel supervised in an adult fashion, and Xander and Buffy were daring the daylight which made Angel an impossibility for this particular errand, taking Wesley out to get some new glasses.

Giles had tried to make a show of disappointment on the phone to Buffy that morning about not being needed for any of these particular chores but had evidently failed as she had said witheringly: “Faker. You are so not gutted about not being needed to take care of the rugrats.”

“Do watch your double negatives, Buffy,” he told her. “Now there are children in the house you really will have to be careful of your grammar.”

“I'm making a rude gesture down the phone at you right now, Giles. You can't see it, but trust me, it's there.”

“Something else you probably shouldn't be doing in front of Angel's new family. Children of that age are so receptive,” he told her smugly, before putting down the phone.

That had been four hours ago and he presumed the children would now be getting lunch, probably something sweet and bad for them. He hoped that Xander could overcome his need to force-feed poor Wesley. The child couldn't help being thin. Child. Giles winced. Man, rather, mystically shrunk to child-like proportions. He thought of how important it had been to the adult Wesley he had known to appear to be in charge, that neat tie and suit, his impeccably combed hair. Perhaps those had been the trappings to disguise panic all the time, but Giles hadn't really picked up on more than that the man was a pompous twerp who was probably compensating for something.

The knock on the door was for once an agreeable distraction. He opened it to find Buffy standing on his doorstep looking like a movie star in her sunglasses and windswept hair and Xander looking nothing at all like a movie star in his sunglasses and windswept hair. In between the two of them, holding onto Buffy's hand, was a Wesley who, in the penetrating light of day, was even thinner and paler than Giles remembered him being.

“Wesley's come to help you with the research.” Buffy indicated his glasses proudly. “See. The world's all in focus again.”

Wesley smiled at her shyly. “Thank you, Buffy.”

“You're so welcome.” She made to ruffle his hair, remembered in time he was actually older than she was, and made a conscious effort to stop herself, just patting him tentatively on the shoulder.

Giles held open the door for them to come in. “I'm very glad to see you, Wesley. I could do with some help.”

“The old are so fickle,” Xander sighed to Buffy. “And to think that last week we were his favourite research assistants.”

“Actually you were never my favourite research assistants,” Giles assured them. “Willow was and is.” He turned to the little boy who was gazing up at his books wistfully. “Can I get you a cup of tea, Wesley?”

“Thank you.” The boy relaxed a fraction. “I'd love a cup of tea.”

“Tea.” Xander hit Buffy lightly on the arm. “Why didn't we think of tea?”

“Because we were too busy trying to cram chocolate milkshakes down him?” she shrugged. “Do you have any cookies?”

“I have biscuits,” Giles stressed the word. “But haven't you just had lunch?”

“Eating after meals is good. That means you're not ruining your appetite. Just keeping it in training,” Xander explained.

Rolling his eyes, Giles made tea, gave Xander the biscuit tin, and invited Wesley to sit down on the couch. He handed him the tea carefully so that Wesley could take it by the handle, noticing the care with which Wesley steered it to his mouth. “It really doesn't matter if you spill it,” Giles assured him. “After years of Buffy and Xander invading my personal space I hardly flinch at all now when another personal possession goes west.”

Buffy beamed at Wesley cheerily, biscuit already in hand. “He loves us really. He just hides it in front of visitors.”

Xander flopped down in a chair. “And indeed when there are no witnesses of any kind.”

Buffy nodded. “He's inscrutable like that.”

“You two, drink your tea, and then clear off. Wesley and I have important Watcher research to do.”

“Fine. Throw us out into the snow.”

“It's eighty degrees in the shade, Buffy.”

“Quibbler.” Buffy popped another biscuit into her mouth. “These are good, what are they?”

Giles took the tin from her. “Chocolate hob-nobs, imported at vast expense from the mother country. And anyone, except Wesley, who touches my Jaffa cakes, dies. They are completely wasted on you colonials.”

Wesley looked up with more interest. “You have Jaffa cakes?”

“The moment those two are out the door, I'll open a packet,” Giles promised. “Come on, Buffy, Xander, drink up.”

“They're being all cliquey and boys clubby and British and Watchery,” Buffy observed to Xander. “But we don't care. We can go home and watch Walt Disney cartoons while pretending we're babysitting Gunn.”

“We could have a Simpsons Marathon!” Xander finished his tea in two gulps.

Buffy gazed anxiously at Wesley. “Are you sure you want to stay here and do boring old research with boring old – “

“Don't say it,” Giles warned her.

“Boring old books when you could be having fun with the rest of us?”

Wesley grimaced. “Given Dawn's complete inability to say 'no' to Gunn about anything, I imagine he's now on the crest of a sugar high that will have Angel threatening to bite people and meaning it. I think I'll be much happier here with Mr. Giles.”

“Please call me Giles, Wesley. It makes me feel as if I'm a hundred and fifty every time you call me 'Mister Giles'.” As the boy looked at him in confusion, he added: “Which I'm not, by the way.”

“You call Gunn 'Gunn',” Xander pointed out. “It's the same thing.”

Buffy smiled seraphically. “I wonder what Angel is calling Gunn right now.”

Xander got to his feet. “Let's go and find out, shall we?”

“I want to know how many pairs of shoes Little Cordy has persuaded Willow to buy for her,” Buffy added brightly. “If it's more than six you'd better hold back on undoing that spell for a while, Giles, or Cordelia will never get a chance to wear them all.”

“Cordelia may have to live with that particular disappointment,” Giles returned. “I think Wesley has probably had quite enough of being small.”

Wesley smiled faintly. “I had enough of being small twenty years ago. Like bad British sitcoms it's not something that improves in reruns.”

“You have bad British sitcoms?” Xander paused in the doorway. “I thought all your television rocked?”

Giles and Wesley exchanged a look of mutual understanding. “Perhaps a short sharp dose of 'On The Buses' might correct that delusion?” Giles observed to Wesley. “Or there's always 'George and Mildred'.”

“I remember that almost anything with vicars in it was usually very bad,” Wesley added.

Giles passed a hand in front of his eyes. “Was 'Love Thy Neighbour' just a nightmare I had or did it actually exist?”

“Stop spoiling our illusions about England being the font of all culture.” Buffy stabbed an accusing finger at Giles. “An illusion, incidentally, that you've been peddling for all you're worth since you arrived here.”

“We have Shakespeare,” Giles told her smugly. “And consequently will always win the culture war. In fact he really reduces it to little more than a skirmish.”

“We have Walt Whitman and his grassy…leaves,” Buffy retorted. “And lots of other important American writers whose names are temporarily escaping me.”

Giles shrugged dismissively. “When it comes to dead gay poets we also have you beaten hollow.”

Wesley nodded. “Yes, we can see that Whitman and raise you an Auden, an Owen and a Housman.”

“Emily Dickinson!” Buffy said triumphantly. “Another important American writer, and one whose poetry I even read once, briefly, when I was trying to impress a boy, but that's not important, I remembered her name.”

“Children, please,” said Xander soothingly. “The question before us here is surely not whether we want to debate the merits of our relative cultural achievements but whether we want to see Angel having to cope with a four year old Gunn, who is too cute to tell off, on a serious sugar high?”

Buffy patted Xander on the chest. “As always, Mister Harris, you cut to the heart of the important stuff while Giles gets bogged down in the…not so important stuff.”

“Fine.” Giles held open the door for them. “Wesley and I will just research the very complicated and arcane magic that must have been utilized to bring about the metamorphosis of adults into children while you do the serious important work of watching Gunn get even more spoiled than one would believe was humanly possible.”

Buffy paused in the doorway, the remains of a chocolate hob-nob still in her fingers. “You're just jealous because we're the ones having fun.”

Her grin was infectious but Giles did manage to hold out until she and Xander were the other side of a closed door before letting his amusement show. “I was going to reassure Angel last night that even very small children eventually grow up, but then I thought about Buffy and Xander and realized that sometimes 'eventually' can be a very long time.”

“Do you think Angel is angry with Gunn?” Wesley looked anxiously at the telephone. “Perhaps I should call…?”

“I'm sure he isn't,” Giles reassured him. “Much as it pains me to admit it, I imagine it is in fact impossible to be angry with Gunn in his present incarnation, however hard one might try.”

Wesley smiled. “He is pretty cute.”

“Deplorably so,” Giles conceded. “Now, how about those Jaffa cakes…?”

***

Collins handed the binoculars to Smith. “What do you think?”

The man adjusted the focus and looked. He saw two pretty young women, one with glorious red hair, the other with light brown locks, and in between them a little girl with brown hair cut into a bob. He knew who they were. Everyone associated with the Slayer had a file with the Council somewhere, so he knew the two women were a couple. He was hoping they might kiss while he still had the binoculars but unfortunately they weren't even holding hands, only the hands of the little girl.

“Alternative parenting,” he shrugged. “Happens a lot these days. I'm not against it on principal.”

“Are they kissing?” Weatherby demanded from the back. He was still sulking about having to sit in the back and next time Smith thought it would probably be easier to just let him have the passenger seat. Weatherby could sulk for a long time over slights real and imagined and he bore grudges as if in training for an Olympic event.

“I mean what do you think in reference to the information we were given?” Collins said wearily.

“Oh.” Smith looked back through the binoculars. They were standing at the gates of a house with a long drive; somewhere that looked very expensive.

The redhead was saying anxiously, “I knew it wasn't a good idea to come here. Cordy, are you okay?”

“I miss my pony,” the little girl said weepily. Adjusting the focus, Smith saw tears were trickling down her face. “I miss Keanu.”

“I knew we shouldn't have let her come here,” the redhead said to the other woman. “It's bound to bring back unhappy memories.”

“Do you see what I see?” Collins enquired.

Weatherby shrugged. “Two women with a little girl. So what?”

“Don't you ever do your homework? A crying little girl all upset because she's looking at the house Cordelia Chase used to live in. That's something like confirmation as far as I'm concerned.”

“You believe that cock and bull story the Wolfram & Hart lawyer told you?”

Collins looked over his shoulder. “I believe Angelus locked those lawyers into that wine cellar. Don't you? And that makes him culpable in the death of a number of humans and that makes him a legitimate target.”

Smith said tentatively, “But…a lawyer who works for Wolfram & Hart…?”

“Just because someone is dyed-in-the-wool evil doesn't mean they don't occasionally tell the truth. Or that they don't have an ordinary grudge that makes them go against company policy enough to tell us what's going on. And this isn't any lawyer, my friends, this is Lilah Morgan; one of only two survivors of the wine cellar massacre at Holland Manners' place. She said their psychics picked up a major mystical disturbance in the Hyperion Hotel where Angelus has made his base and that right afterwards a horned demon called The Host, a known ally of Angelus and his ragbag of human minions, was seen shopping for children's clothes, for two boys and a girl. And no one has seen the Chase girl, the associate known as Gunn, or our old friend Wesley since then. What has been seen is Angelus getting into his convertible along with three children, two boys, one girl.”

“It's beyond far-fetched,” Smith complained. “I'd be embarrassed to put it in a report.”

“I was embarrassed to have to put in a report that a rogue slayer, a vampire, and that little ponce Pryce screwed up our entire mission,” Weatherby snarled. “But I still had to do it.”

The little girl wiped her eyes. “Can we go and see Wesley? I want to show him around town. I never got the chance before.”

“He's working with Giles today, Cordy,” the one called Tara said gently. “But I'm sure you'll be able to show him around town tomorrow.”

“I'd call that confirmation.” Collins took the binoculars from Smith. “I doubt there are too many people in California called 'Wesley', especially ones who happen to be friends with little girls who are moping around in the grounds of Cordelia Chase's old house. I think it's time we paid a visit to our old friend Rupert Giles.”

“I can't believe any of this,” Smith returned stolidly. “But going to see Giles to tell him about the lawyers in the wine cellar is probably a good idea anyway.”

“Let's make one thing clear,” Collins said coolly. “We're here to obtain information, not impart it, and as far as I'm concerned anyone who allies himself or herself with a vampire deserves to be treated like a vampire.”

“What are those men doing?”

Smith turned his head in shock to see that the party of women and child had drawn much closer and the little girl was frowning accusingly at them as she peered into the car.

“Why do they have binoculars? Are they spying on us? Do you think they're perverts? I think we should call the police.”

“Move it,” said Weatherby urgently to Collins. “I don't want to have to explain to some PC Plod about the Watchers' Council.”

“Those men are creepy…”

Collins had already started the engine and they pulled away from the kerb at speed. “Do you think she recognized us?” Smith enquired anxious.

“Recognized us from when?” Collins returned imperturbably. “We didn't meet her, only Wyndam Pryce, the vampire, and his matching pair of slayettes.”

“But if she tells Rupert Giles there were three men hanging around he may make the connection…” Smith began.

Collins gave him a sharkish smile. “All the more reason to go straight to our fellow Watcher's place without delay…”

***

It was strange to be researching with Wesley again. Giles had surreptitiously piled a couple of cushions onto a chair so the boy could sit up to the table, and kept an eye on him to make sure the books weren't too heavy for him to manage. Wesley looked very small to be dealing with some of the larger leatherbound volumes, having to use both hands to open them on more than one occasion, but his brain did not appear to have turned to 'mush' as he had phrased it, and he was an odd sort of child-adult mixture at present that made for surprisingly restful company.

He still seemed to have retained his academic knowledg