Mid-morning gathering. A time for the coven to come together and be inspired by Cordelia's words of wisdom. Or bored to death, which Nan was feeling at the moment. She didn't show it, though, giving a smile or a nod at appropriate times, even interjecting occasionally. She wasn't the only bored witch in the room; Queenie was currently daydreaming about stapling her mouth shut and thereby Cordelia's. And Madison was chipping away at one of her nails.

Spalding entered the room with a tea trolley, as Cordelia rattled on about recruiting more witches for the school. He began to serve the tea, and Nan couldn't help but hear him think about his doll collection upstairs. Though he rarely thought directly about his loneliness, she had pieced it together. She knew he lived to serve others; all he wanted was some love in return. Or at least some recognition. He received neither, and it tortured him. Nan also knew that he had been in love with the Supreme, Fiona. Nan hoped to meet her some day; she was undoubtedly a powerful and charismatic woman.

She glanced at his hands as he poured tea into a dainty white cup with a delicate lilac pattern. His nails were terrible; jagged and discolored from years of neglect. Not exactly becoming for someone who regularly served them food, but Spalding was a fastidious butler. Nan wondered why he had forsaken his appearance for so long.

It was Nan's turn for some tea; Spalding approached her with the cup and saucer. She made eye contact with him as she took it, thanking him, and he inclined his head. His hair was simultaneously greasy and dry, hanging unattractively about his shoulders and occasionally falling in front of one eye. He had rather nice green eyes; she imagined he could have been attractive in his youth.

As Spalding left the room, Nan worked up a plan. Queenie noticed Nan smiling at herself and shot her a quizzical look. Tell you later, Nan mouthed, and Queenie went back to pretending to listen to Cordelia.

After what felt like three more years, the gathering was adjourned, and everyone went their separate ways. Cordelia returned to her office. Madison stalked off with a sigh and dramatic eye roll, her platform heels clunking on the hardwood floor as she went outside for a cigarette. Nan and Queenie went upstairs.

"So what's your deal?" Queenie asked as they ascended the stairs.

"I can't tell you yet," Nan replied, looking around for Spalding. She didn't see him, but she didn't want him to hear her talking to Queenie, so she waited until they were in their bedroom before she spoke. Queenie sat on the edge of her bed as Nan opened the closet and began rummaging through it. She pulled out a blue and purple plastic container, half the size of a shoebox, and brought it over to Queenie. "Have you ever noticed Spalding's nails?" Nan asked.

"I try not to. But it looks like tree bark growing out of his fingers."

Nan smiled. "And his hair is pretty gross, too."

Queenie looked skeptical. She knew Nan was up to something. "What are you getting at?"

Nan opened the box. Inside was a collection of manicure items; nail polish, clippers, files, and other tools. She moved around the items as she spoke. "I think we should give Spalding a spa day."

"What? That's a stupid idea."

"Why? I think it would be fun."

Queenie's only answer was a raised eyebrow.

Nan smiled. "I'm going to do it."

So she crept back downstairs, to the book case in the living room, and began to look for spells. She could hear Spalding in the kitchen, cleaning the dishes, silverware clicking together and glasses tapping softly as he carefully put them away. When she found what she was looking for, she clutched the book behind her back and tiptoed to the kitchen.

Peering around the corner, she saw Spalding looking into the fridge, his back to her. She called out to him and he turned around. He was thinking about Fiona, wondering where she was, wondering if she was all right. There was a sorrowful look on his face, which he quickly changed to a blank, though still somewhat wistful, visage.

"Could you come to my room when you're done? There's a spot on my rug I can't get out."

He nodded. She thanked him, then left. She practically ran up the stairs. Queenie was laying on her bed reading a magazine, headphones on. Nan dropped the heavy book onto the bed beside her. Queenie removed her headphones and looked up at Nan. "What's this?" Queenie asked as Nan quietly closed the door.

Nan was smiling mischievously. "I found an illusion spell."

"An illusion spell?"

"Yep. I'm going to use it to fix Spalding's nails and his teeth."

"It will fade though, if it's an illusion." Queenie sat up as she spoke, and glanced at the leather bound book as though it were soiling her bed.

"Yep. I'm hoping he'll be so excited about how handsome he looks that he will start taking better care of himself." Nan picked the book back up and sat on the floor with it, leaning against her bed. "Maybe he can get his teeth bleached or something. I'm gonna do his hair, too."

Queenie waited for a few seconds as Nan flipped through the book, finding the spell. "Nan," she began gently, "why are you doing this?"

Nan looked up from the book. She was no longer smiling. "I can hear him, Queenie. He's lonely. He's sad. He doesn't have any friends, and he thinks nobody cares about him."

"He's a Watcher, though, right? He's not supposed to have any friends. He's supposed to serve the coven."

"That doesn't mean he has to be alone and miserable." She stroked the page with her finger, glancing over the words she must speak for the enchantment. "I want to give him some happiness, even if it's just for a little while. It's the least we can do, after everything he does for us."

"We?"

Nan gave her best sad puppy dog eyes.

Queenie sighed. "Fine. But I'm not touching his gross hair."

They sat on the floor together to practice the illusion spell. At first, it didn't work. "Are you sure this is a real spell?" Queenie asked incredulously. Nan ignored her and continued to try it. After a few minutes, she had given Queenie green hair and a mustache. Nan burst out laughing. Queenie rushed to the mirror, and demanded Nan change her back. It took Nan a good minute to stop laughing; once she did, she quickly restored Queenie to her normal state.

As Queenie was recovering from her ordeal, there was a knock on the door. Nan opened it and there stood Spalding, a bucket of cleaning supplies in his hand, which he rattled. "Come on in," Nan said, and stepped aside, closing the door again once he had passed.

Spalding inspected the area rug in the middle of the room. When he realized there was no stain, he turned around and looked at her, his eyebrows raised.

"Spalding," Queenie stated, "this is an intervention."

Spalding mouthed the word, what.

"We want to give you a makeover," Nan said. She heard Spalding think about his nighty and bonnet. His eyebrows, still raised, knitted together and he shook his head. As he began to leave, Nan concentrated. She focused on concillium. His steps slowed and finally stopped as she bent his will to hers. She spoke calmly. "You're gonna let us do your hair and your nails and your teeth." Spalding nodded, his face becoming relaxed and blank. Nan smiled and clapped excitedly.

"Well, let's do this," said Queenie. She gathered up Nan's nail kit and the spell book, while Nan ushered Spalding into the bathroom, dragging a chair behind her. Queenie locked the door and Nan backed the chair up to the sink.

Spalding was looking at the tile beneath his feet. It was white with black accents. This is where it happened, he thought.

'Where what happened?" Nan asked. Again she called on her mind control ability to have him sit on the chair, and lean his head back into the sink. She turned on the faucet and began to wet his hair with warm water.

My tongue. His thoughts were very controlled; he wasn't letting her into the whole story.

"What are you talking about?" Queenie asked, approaching with nail clippers.

"I'm talking to Spalding," Nan replied, and squeezed some lavender scented shampoo into his hair. "How did it happen?" she asked him.

Scratch my scalp, he requested. When Nan obliged, he made a pleased sound.

Queenie picked up Spalding's left hand, looked at his thumb nail, looked at the nail clippers, then shook her head and went to get bigger toenail clippers. "What are you talking to him about?"

"Spalding, how did it happen?" Nan repeated.

His eyes were closed now, a small smile playing on his lips. She no longer had to control his mind to get him to stay; he was enjoying the feeling of his hair being washed. Perhaps one day you will know the complete tale, but not today.

Nan sighed. Queenie began to clip Spalding's nails, thankful his eyes were closed and he couldn't see the disgusted look on her face. "Nan, what are you-"

"This is where his tongue was cut off. In this bathroom." Nan flashed a dangerous look at Queenie, and began to rinse Spalding's hair.

"Mmmmmmmmm." Spalding was obviously enjoying himself.

If he gets a boner, I'm out of here, thought Queenie. Aloud, she said, "Nan, this is the best I can do." Nan looked as Queenie held up Spalding's left hand. She had trimmed his nails so the edges were short and even, but she couldn't do anything about their thickness and discoloration. "Time for the spell?"

Nan shook her head. "No. Not yet. You can sit up." Her last utterance was directed at Spalding. He looked quite relaxed as he sat up and Nan handed him a towel. While he patted his hair dry, Nan rummaged around in her blue and purple box and retrieved a dark, amber colored dropper bottle and a nail buffing block. "File them down a little, then put this on them," she said, pushing the items into Queenie's hands.

"What is this?" Queenie inquired, holding up the bottle.

"Tea tree oil. It fixes just about everything. Cordelia gave it to me a while back." Nan put some heat protector in Spalding's hair, then blow dried it using a paddle brush while Queenie finished his nails.

While Spalding felt indifferent about what Queenie was doing to his nails, he really enjoyed having his hair worked on by Nan. No one had ever done this for him before, and it felt therapeutic. It had been a long time since loving hands did anything for him. While Nan dried and then brushed Spalding's hair, the pair had a conversation which drove Queenie mad, since she could only hear one side of it. Nan had to keep explaining everything.

After the good part of an hour was spent, they were finished. Spalding looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was straight and clean, his nails short and natural looking; he even smiled and saw white teeth. Still smiling, he turned to Nan and Queenie. "You're welcome," said Queenie, as Nan approached and gave him a little hug.

Spalding was over the moon. He hurried upstairs, to show his dolls. He couldn't wait to see how his bonnet looked with his hair like this.