"Why in the name of everything that's sane and holy did you give a five-year-old who already had an ice cream feast earlier today," Angel said as he walked Wes and Fred to the elevator, "an extra dose of sugar in the form of brownies?"
"Well, uh, the pizza place… You see," Wes stuttered, avoiding his friend's eyes, "they were running this special promotion…"
"What kind of promotion?"
"The kind that if you give them more money they'll give you brownies?" Wes said sheepishly. That made Fred giggle, and he blushed furiously. Then again, how could anyone not give candy to a lad who had bitten Knox and made him scream like a girly girl?
"Great," Angel grouched. "Now everybody gets to go home, while I'm stuck with a hyperactive five-year-old vampire wannabe, who has a battle axe that he calls Doombringer and is in for a major sugar rush."
"I offered to take him home with me," Fred reminded him.
"Yes, you did," Angel admitted with a sigh. "I appreciate your offer, Fred; I just think that it would be wiser to keep him here until we know more about his, hum… condition."
"I know," Fred said with a smile. "And you're probably right."
The elevator doors slid open with a ding; just as Fred and Wes said goodnight to Angel and walked into the elevator, they heard a loud crashing sound coming from Angel's office. Swearing under his breath, the vampire swirled on his heels and darted back to his office. While the doors slowly closed before them, Wes and Fred could hear Spike's vehement claim:
"It was already broken when I dropped it!"
- x x x x x -
Angel woke up instantly as his heightened vampire hearing caught the subtle sound of the door being opened; his eyes snapped open, but he laid perfectly still, listening intently as the quiet footsteps approached his bed. He was about to jump out of bed and lash towards the intruder's throat when the familiar scent triggered recognition.
"Spike, what are you doing here?"
"There are monsters in that bedroom," Spike informed him, already climbing on the bed. "Doombringer was scared."
"What, wait, what are you doing?" -- Angel sat up on the bed, bewildered, as the boy slid under the covers with him, clutching the aforementioned plastic weapon.
"I'm trying to sleep," Spike said pointedly, "if you just shut up."
"I thought you didn't like me," Angel said, while Spike gingerly slid Doombringer under the pillow.
"I don't," the boy replied without missing a beat. "But I like the monsters even less."
"Well, that's flattering," Angel sighed as he warily laid back on the bed by his grandchilde's side.
"It can't be," Spike reasoned with his eyes already closed, "because I don't know what this word means."
He wiggled closer to Angel, somehow managing to worm himself into his embrace, much to the vampire's disconcert. While Angel stared, stunned, at the blond head resting peacefully on his arm, the boy's breathing became steadier and slower, and soon it was clear that he was sound asleep.
Angel craned his neck to look at the digital clock sitting on the nightstand: it was past 3 am. He rested his head back on the pillow with a tired sigh; usually he wouldn't be in bed at 3 am, but this had been some unusual day, even for the Fang Gang's standards. With a resigned sigh, he made himself comfortable by his grandchilde's side and closed his eyes, hoping to catch some sleep before the little hellion woke up.
- x x x x x -
Less than four hours later, Angel's heightened senses saved him once again as he opened his eyes just in time to catch Spike tiptoeing towards him with a red marker in one hand and a toothpaste tube in the other.
"What do you think you're doing?" he asked when the incriminating evidence promptly disappeared behind Spike's back.
"Nothing," the boy said, glaring at him.
"Spike…" -- Angel dragged out the word in a warning tone.
"What?" Spike asked haughtily, whilst taking one step back.
"Spike, give me those," Angel ordered, sitting up and throwing his legs over the edge of the bed.
"Give you what?" Spike insisted, taking yet another step away from him.
"Give them to me while I'm still asking nicely," Angel glowered, narrowing his eyes.
"I think Knox likes Fred," Spike said, going for a diversion tactic. He took another step away from Angel, but didn't look the least intimidated by his grandsire's threatening stance. "But Wes likes her, too," he proceeded as Angel stood up. "I think Fred should date him and not Knox."
"Can we kill Knox after breakfast?" he asked offhandedly. "If we kill him, I'll let you eat him."
"No killing," Angel said, thus proving that his attention span was even shorter than that of the five-year-old. "And most definitely no eating."
"I don't wanna eat Knox," Spike said, wrinkling his nose in sincere repugnance. "I wanna eat French toasts."
"We don't have French toasts," Angel deadpanned, turning towards the door to the bathroom of his suite.
"But I want French toasts!" Spike demanded, stomping his foot to the floor, which proved to be a bad idea as he accidentally dropped the marker that he had been holding behind his back all along.
There was a pregnant silence in the room while both of them looked at the red marker, until Spike raised his eyes from it and turned to Angel again.
"Is this yours?" he asked, unabashed, pointing at the marker with his right hand while his left hand remained safely out of sight.
"Okay, that's enough," Angel snarled, jumping towards him.
Before he reached Spike, though, the boy suddenly threw the toothpaste tube across the room. When Angel stopped on his tracks, distracted by the movement, Spike quickly ducked under his arm and darted past him, nimbly climbing on the bed and grabbing Doombringer.
"Havoc is my name!" he bellowed, waving the battle-axe as he jumped back to the floor on the other side of the bed. "I fear no ooooooone!"
As Angel chased the pajama clad hurricane around the room, he wondered if the Senior Partners would remain so adamant about not restoring Spike's grown up self if they had to spend a couple of hours baby sitting. Right now, another apocalypse sounded like a rather reasonable alternative.
"Chaos I bring! Havoc I wreck! Mayhem…"
"Good morning!" -- the door swung open, as Harmony chose that particular day to humor her boss by bringing him his breakfast in bed.
The vampiress shrieked and shut her eyes when she saw Spike and Doombringer running right into her, and Angel watched in helpless dismay as the inevitable collision occurred and his favorite mug made a wide arch in the air and landed on the floor with a crash.
"Hi, Harm! Bye, Harm!" Spike greeted as he bounced back to his feet and ran around her and out of Angel's bedroom.
"This is hardly the place to play tag!" Harmony scolded, glaring at Angel and at the porcelain fragments and the blood pooled on the floor. "Don't expect me to clean this," she muttered, swirling on her heels and leaving.
"We're not… Oh, forget it!" Angel exclaimed, unceremoniously pushing her aside and following Spike. "Spike! Come back here, now!"
"Wes!" Spike said enthusiastically, running towards Wesley as this one entered Angel's private antechamber. "Hi!"
"Hi, there," Wes said with a smile. He reached out to friendly ruffle the boy's hair before realizing that said hair already looked rather disheveled. Then he took in Spike's bare feet and red pajamas and turned to Angel, who was standing at the doorway that led to the bedroom, wearing some old sweat pants and an undershirt and looking quite unkempt himself.
"Maybe Harmony and I can get him ready for breakfast while you get dressed?" he offered, taking pity on his friend. "You look like you could use a break."
- x x x x x -
Twenty minutes later, as Angel entered his office, he was greeted by the smell of the French toasts that Harmony had somehow managed to summon. He opened his mouth to complain that she was never that efficient when it came to providing for his needs, but a brand new mug filled with blood bought his silence.
He received the mug from Harmony's hands and went to sit behind his desk without a word; only when he sat on his chair with a sigh and took a big gulp of the blood did Angel notice the stunned looks turned towards him. Fred had joined Wes, Spike and Harmony while they waited for him, and now the three grown-ups were staring at him with their mouths agape.
"What?" Angel asked, all the more warily because Spike was the only one who was grinning, not looking the least surprised by whatever it was that had rendered the grown-ups speechless.
"You… uh… your hair…" Fred stammered.
"What about my hair?" Angel asked, his apprehension growing as he was reminded that he wasn't able to see his own hair in the mirror.
"It's…" -- Wes tilted his head to the side, giving Angel an incredulous look -- "glittering."
"Next time you want to innovate, boss, ask Lorne for some fashion tips," Harmony said, giving him a critical look. "Glitter hair gel is so eighties!"
Angel's eyes grew wide with shock and outrage as he understood what was going on; at first he was torn between the urge to return to his quarters to wash the glitter off his hair before anyone else saw him and the wish to stay in his office to yell at Spike. In the end, his pride took the best of him and he dashed out of the room with one last menacing glare towards his brat of a grandchilde.
"Where did you get the glitter, Blondie Bear?" Harmony asked after Angel left, slamming the door shut behind him.
"I borrowed some from the supplies' cabinet," Spike said conversationally, reaching out for another French toast.
"You keep glitter in the supplies' cabinet?" Fred said, giving Harmony a puzzled look.
"You broke into the supplies' cabinet?" Wesley said to Spike, raising his eyebrows disapprovingly.
"Nope," the boy promptly replied, shaking his head. "I used the key."
"How did you get the key?" Wes pushed.
"I broke into Harm's desk."
"What!" Harmony shrieked.
"Spike…" Fred started to say, but Wes held up his hand, silencing her.
"Spike," he said gravely, standing up and going to sit by the boy's side, "that makes two wrong things that you've done. One, you broke into Harmony's desk to get the key to the supplies' cabinet, and two, you used the glitter you took from the supplies' cabinet to vex Angel."
"I needed the key," Spike said, defensively.
"Considerations about the use you made of it aside," Wes patiently said, "it was Harmony's key and it was inside her desk. You should have asked her."
"But she wasn't here," Spike retorted, giving him an impatient look.
"Then you should have waited until she arrived this morning," Wes said. "Just because you want something that belongs to someone else, it doesn't give you the right to take it without their permission. How would you feel if Angel took Doombringer away from you?"
The boy's eyes widened in shock and he promptly grabbed the plastic axe that was resting against his chair.
"He can't have Doombringer!" he exclaimed, clutching it against his chest. "It's mine!"
"What if he really wants to use it while you're not around for him to ask?" Wes reasoned.
"But it's mine!" Spike protested heatedly, his face starting to get red with indignant anger.
"And the desk is Harmony's, and so is everything that's inside it," Wes said. "If you take what you want without regard to other people's rights, everyone will be entitled to do the same."
Spike sniffed loudly to express his discontent, but didn't reply right away.
"So," he finally said, still holding the toy tight and giving Wes a suspicious look, "if I don't mess with Harmony's stuff, Angel won't mess with Doombringer?"
"If you respect other people's rights, they'll respect yours, too," Wes said. "And," he proceeded, "speaking of respect, let's talk about Angel's hair."
He was so absorbed in his conversation with Spike that he never noticed the thoughtful look that Fred was giving him. She was watching their interplay with great interest: after meeting Wes' father -- or at least the cyborg emulating Roger Wyndam-Price -- she knew for sure that this gentle approach wasn't something he had learned at home, and she could only guess that Wes was a natural. A natural dad, she thought, blushing a little at the warm tingle that the thought sent through her.
"I don't like that poof," Spike said sullenly, "and he doesn't like me, either."
"You two have your differences," Wes conceded. "But Angel is taking good care of you, nonetheless. He sent Harmony to the mall to buy you new clothes, and he let you go play in the sun. He gave you Doombringer, and he's doing everything he can to reverse what the Senior Partners did to you; he hasn't done anything to make you look silly in front of your friends."
Spike's lower lip jutted out and he stared sulkily at his feet, and Wes gently placed his hand on the boy's shoulder.
"I'm not asking you to apologize to Angel," he said, knowing that the two vampires went way back, and that their history together wasn't something he could comprehend or judge by his human standards. "All I'm asking is that you promise to me -- and to him -- that you won't do anything like this again."
Spike didn't answer and kept his eyes trained on his feet, swinging them back and forth over the edge of the chair, and Wes sighed.
"I know that this sounds like a lot to ask," he said. "I know that you and Angel aren't exactly good friends. But this pettiness, it's…" -- he suddenly had an inspiration, remembering something that Spike had mentioned during his outburst the day before -- "It's beneath you."
Spike's head jolted up and he gave Wesley an uneasy look.
"You're better than this," Wes assured him.
"I'm an evil dead thing," Spike muttered, frowning.
"You're not dead," Wes reminded him. "And if you once were evil," he proceeded, and he was utterly surprised to realize that he actually believed his words, "I don't think you are any more."
Just then, the door was opened, and Angel entered with his hair still wet from the recent shower. He strolled straight towards Spike and towered above the boy, glaring at him, and Spike narrowed his eyes and glared back at him. Before Angel could say a word, though, Spike sputtered:
"I-won't-mix-glitter-with-your-hair-gel-again-and-I-won't-do-anything-to-make-you-look-like-a-silly-ponce-and-I-will-never-break-into-Harm's-desk-not-even-if-I-really-really-need-something-and-she's-not-around-for-me-to-ask."
He paused to breath after his non-stop little speech and then added, nodding his head decisively:
"So there."
Angel blinked, bewildered, and just stared wordless at the boy. He turned to Wes with an inquisitive look, and this one patted Spike's shoulder approvingly before turning to the vampire again.
"Fred has already checked the results of the last exams," he said, willing to leave the glitter incident behind. "They didn't show anything new."
Angel's face fell, but Wes proceeded with a smile:
"But I have an idea, and I think it might just work."