Mystified, four anxious faces scoured the living room for a reasonable explanation, some sort of sign or clue – anything that would make sense of the sudden disappearances.

Hannah shook her head in disbelief. "Where did...?"

Abruptly, all eyes turned to a heap that had begun to move slightly. The heap consisted of the clothes Willow had been wearing and Tara immediately rushed forward.

"Tara, wait—" cautioned Giles, stretching out a hand to restrain her, but Tara refused to listen.

"Willow?" she asked nervously.

"Tara?" came the muffled response.

The pile started to thrash violently. Though confused, Tara instinctively went to help and then took a step back as a head thrust its way through the jumble – a small head topped with a shock of bright copper-colored hair adorned by a lacy black bra. Tara's hand froze in mid-air and a very odd expression crossed her face.

"Willow?" she questioned doubtfully.

The little redhead swiped fussily at the bra and brushed it to the floor.

"Yeah, hi, already established," announced Willow peevishly. "The ..."

Slowly, Willow leaned back to look up at Tara looming over her. Her eyes grew very round. "Oh my god, you're a giant!"

"No, I'm ..." Tara glanced over her shoulder at the trio still hovering in the entranceway, her bewilderment only too plain. "I'm normal Tara-sized ..." she finished weakly.

One by one, the other three disheveled mounds began to stir. Without hesitation, Dawn hurriedly made her way to what was apparently a buried Buffy. In a state of shock, Giles and Hannah could only continue to gawk open-mouthed at the scenario. Rummaging deep, Dawn unearthed a little blonde sitting on the carpet and rubbing at her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Oh, no way," murmured the teenager.

Xander and Faith emerged at about the same time. Faith's neck swiveled from side to side as she surveyed the piles of clothes.

"That's new," she remarked curiously.

Giles' mouth worked rapidly for a moment until he was able to jolt his vocal chords into action. "Good lord."

"What happened?" demanded Xander irritably. "Everything got all bright, and ... and why do I sound like a castrati?"

He looked up – way up – at Hannah's approach and let out a strangled, "Ahh!"

He inspected his hands. They were not manly hands. This time, the strangled "Ahh!" was shrill.

With an expression of dread, he peered down. His worse fears were realized. That wasn't manly either. The "AHH!!" that followed was truly more of a shriek. "Who took my puberty?!"

"Bad," announced Buffy with ever-widening eyes. "Oh, very bad. Giles!" She turned toward her Watcher, as though he might not have yet been aware of these latest developments. "Bad!"

Blinking in double-time, Willow teetered on the brink of hyperventilation. "Okay. Okay. Okay. Logical reason. Think. Need to think."

Tara laid a soothing hand on the small head. "You need to breathe first."

"Think," gasped Willow.

"Breathe," insisted Tara sternly. In a calm fashion, she demonstrated the necessary steps.

"Breathe," agreed Willow in a whisper.

Tara smiled encouragingly. "There you go."

Willow's hands fluttered up and down. "Breathe," she echoed again.

Kneeling next to Willow, Tara clearly wanted nothing more than to gather the agitated redhead into the comfort of her arms, but seemed uncertain whether it was the right thing to do. She glanced worriedly in Giles' direction.

Dawn, however, was utterly entranced by little Buffy. "It's like one of my Cabbage Patch Kids came to life," she stated delightedly.

Buffy's eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare find this funny," she warned.

"Come on," pooh-poohed Dawn. "You're like four. There is nothing but funny here."

Inactivity having never been Faith's strong suit, she was the first to get to her feet. She grabbed her shirt and tied it around her small body with haphazard and not particularly secure knots. Still, it sufficed for the moment, even though the sleeves were trailing on the floor.

"Okay, put me way the hell down in the 'fix this' column," she announced curtly. "There ain't no way I'm—" Stumbling on the shirttail, she landed face down.

Everybody stared, but nobody said anything.

"First one that laughs, I swear t'god, I'll bite off your ankle," Faith threatened, voice stifled by the thick carpet pile.

Immediately, every face adopted a suitable 'Laugh? Wouldn't dream of it' expression. As Hannah moved to help Faith, Giles approached his ex-wife.

"Do you know anything about this?" he questioned in a hushed tone.

Hannah favored him with a flat stare. "Yes, it was one of our party games. Right before 'Pass the Parcel', I thought we'd have a round of 'De-age the Adult'."

"All right, all right," Giles soothed, and he began to pace. "What happened?" he asked the group. "Does anyone know?"

Buffy was the first to try and explain. "We were just sitting, and talking and ..."

In casual fashion, so as to not draw any undue attention, Tara made her way toward an edgy and jittery Xander. Obviously mortified by his state of undress, he quickly tried to cover himself as she came closer, although it truly wasn't necessary since he was virtually swimming in the depths of his clothes.

"Xander, your ..." Tara began gently, but she seemed reluctant to broach the subject with words. Instead, she gestured to her eye.

Instantly, Xander's searching fingers discovered that the patch, like everything else he'd been wearing, had fallen off. Horrified realization dawned that the empty socket was now visible to one and all. It was a little disquieting to be sure, but in no way repulsive. The skin was puckered, but the wound had healed very nicely and there was no need for Xander to be embarrassed. Still, an expression of shame invaded his features and he immediately averted his face. Scrambling to retrieve the patch, he struggled to put it back on, but the elastic strap was now far too wide and refused to stay put.

Without a word, Tara removed the patch from his flustered hands and positioned it in place, tying the elastic into a neat bow at the back of his small head. Though still flushed with embarrassment, Xander threw her a look of supreme gratitude.

Turning, he noticed Willow, hovering at his shoulder. The redhead had managed to find and don her tee, although it hung on her tiny frame much like an extremely oversized nightshirt. Still, at least she was decently covered. The pair exchanged a comforting smile, kind of worried and kind of scared, but not alone.

"Deja vu, huh Will?" he offered sheepishly.

His answer was a bear hug around the neck. He held her tight and kissed the top of her head.

Thanks to Hannah, Faith's shirt was no longer in danger of slipping or tripping her up, and Buffy too had been given back her modesty. She stood with legs astride and arms crossed, glaring at Giles who was peering curiously, examining her from every angle.

"Fascinating," he pondered, eyes glinting behind his glasses. "Complete and total age regression. I-I've heard stories of spells, of- of wizards extending their lives by hundreds, thousands of years by turning back their biological clocks, but ..."

"Sort of not the issue right now," Buffy prompted sharply.

Giles tugged off his glasses and began to polish them sheepishly. "No, I suppose it's not," he agreed.

"We have to figure out who, or what, did this," stated Buffy crisply.

Faith climbed onto the couch and stuck her legs out in front of her. "The girl with the action plan," she smirked. "Add us kickin' someone's ass for this, an' I'm in."

Willow hoisted herself onto the cushion next to Faith. She tried to scoot backward but only succeeded in snarling the shirt underneath her and nearly strangling herself in the process.

Doing her best Sherlock Holmes impression, Dawn cruised the room in search of clues. She paused by the coffee table and eyed the wooden box with much suspicion. "Hey, this wasn't open before."

Willow continued her valiant efforts to reach the back of the couch, but her feet were trapped in the hem of the shirt and the endeavor seemed destined to fail miserably. She scrabbled at the neckline and started to look panicky.

"What is it?" asked Giles, standing at Dawn's shoulder.

Buffy hopped onto the couch and began to unscramble the bunched shirt that was now hopelessly wrapped around Willow's legs. The redhead gave an agonized gurgle.

"One of your gifts," Hannah replied, staring at the box curiously. "I brought it over from Slayer Central this afternoon, just before the party."

Waving his hands excitedly, Xander remained on the floor and attempted to supply intelligent suggestions for the disentanglement of Willow while Faith looked on with amusement.

"Who's it from?" queried Tara, also peering at the offending gift suspiciously.

Leaning forward, Giles subjected the box to careful scrutiny. It appeared innocent, but nonetheless, he employed extreme wariness as he removed it from the table in order to check it over more thoroughly.

With a mighty tug, Buffy freed Willow from the clutches of the stubborn t-shirt and the redhead hastily clutched the hem before it could transcend the borders of respectability. Muttering an apology, Buffy settled herself down comfortably, while Xander gazed nonchalantly at the ceiling and Faith shook her head and smirked.

"It doesn't say," pondered Giles thoughtfully.

Hannah frowned. "It was on the table with the others. I didn't see who put it there."

Xander squirmed his way onto the couch between Willow and Buffy.

Willow fidgeted uncomfortably. "I hate this not wearing underwear."

"You get used to it," Faith replied with a shrug.

Holding the box aloft, Giles showed it to the company seated on the couch. "Did anyone open this?"

A small crease appeared on Buffy's forehead. "Uhh ..." She concentrated for a moment. "Yeah, I did. Just before ..." Her jaw dropped as her eyes grew wide. "That's what zapped us!"

Recoiling, Xander burrowed further into his cushion. He thrust his hands forward, making random warding gestures. "Away! What's next, Xander the Fetus? Xander the Embryo? I'm runnin' outta years to spare here!"

Dawn studied the box and its decided lack of glow. "It looks like it's out of juice."

"'Looks like'?" echoed Xander, not at all comforted. "We're staking my development beyond two cells on a 'looks like'?"

Tara reached out for the box. "May I?"

With an absent-minded nod, Giles relinquished it and Tara took her time in examination.

"Look at these markings," she finally stated. "They could be important. Maybe we should get into research mode?"

Giles threw her a quick smile. "I think that would be best. Tara, you and Dawn go to my office and—"

"No." Willow's emphatic denial was met with much surprise.

"No?" questioned Hannah.

"No," confirmed Willow. "Well yes, but no." She crossed her arms and set her jaw. "Clothes."

Xander was wholeheartedly in favor of the proposal. "Clothes. Yes. Yes to dressed."

"Gotta agree," added Buffy in support. "The baggy look? So 1990s."

Dawn's eyes sparkled. "Oh, I am totally part of this."

"But the spell could- could wear off at any moment, and ..." began Giles. He took note of the skeptical expressions. "I suppose that is unlikely," he conceded. "All right then. Hannah and I will begin research, while—"

The declaration from Buffy and Dawn was in perfect sync. "Mall!"

Leaping from the couch, Buffy raced Dawn to the door, skillfully managing somehow to avoid taking a tumble along the way.

Faith rolled her eyes as she slid to the floor with an air of confident cool. "Sure didn't take her long."

Xander was right behind.

Shaking her head, Tara moved to help Willow, who was once again experiencing t-shirt difficulties.

"Need help?" she offered, unable to disguise the fact that despite everything, she plainly found Willow's struggles to be adorable.

"Stupid shirt!" grumbled the aggravated redhead. "Won't stay on until I'm trying not to asphyxiate, oh but then? It's everywhere!"

With a smirk, Tara scooped Willow into her arms and easily untangled the oversized shirt. Willow seemed to thoroughly relish her current position and appeared exceedingly chuffed with the entire situation.

"Suddenly, I'm seeing all kinds of advantages here." She pointed imperiously at the front door. "To the car!"

Arching an indignant eyebrow, Tara planted Willow firmly on the floor. "You have two perfectly good legs. Use 'em." Without another word, she took her leave.

"But I'm all little and cute and stuff!" protested Willow loudly. "What's the point if I can't abuse it?" She waited for a moment, but Tara didn't look back. With a heavy sigh and an even heavier pout, Willow hurried after her.

As the door closed, Hannah and Giles turned to face each other.

"I suspect we escaped with the better part of this arrangement," he revealed in all honesty.

Hannah nodded. "I was just thinking the same thing."

Within the sanctuary of her room, the girl continued her ruminations. The sun had changed its position, although shafts of light still flooded vast areas. However, she appeared to have chosen the perfect location – a place of security where the rays would dance about the perimeter but never venture fully into the circle.

A timid rap upon the door was quickly followed by the appearance of a vampire lackey. The newcomer said nothing, keeping her head respectfully lowered. The girl in saffron silk ignored the other's presence and her lids barely flickered when the vampire reached behind and shoved a child into the center of the room by the scruff of the neck. The little girl, perhaps around ten years of age, landed with a sickening thud on the wooden floor. Her bottom lip trembled as she whimpered softly, tears threatening to spill from the terrified green eyes. The flunkey maintained her silence as she bowed and swiftly took her leave. Just as she had not acknowledged the arrival, the meditating figure did not acknowledge the departure.

Crawling on all fours, the child scuttled into a far corner and shrank against the baseboard, all but paralyzed with fear. Apprehensively, she looked around and then audibly gasped when she realized that the inhabitant of the room was staring directly at her. Cowering, the child curled into a tight ball. There was nothing threatening in the penetrating gaze, although it conveyed little comfort. Indeed, the dark eyes were almost stark in their neutrality.

"Do you know why you are here?"

The child was unable to respond. Sheer panic had frozen her vocal chords.

The girl in saffron silk waited patiently for a moment before closing her eyes and resuming the serene contemplations.

Surrounded by dusty volumes, Giles sat at one of the long tables in Slayer Central's library. Nearby, Spencer awaited his assignment, snappily dressed as always in a navy suit with matching tie and pale blue shirt.

"Books on time theory," Giles instructed. "Any histories of witches or- or warlocks with questionable longevity, and of course, any spells on age or time. I want every available Watcher working on this until we know what caused it and how to reverse it."

Spencer nodded. "Yes sir. It's interesting, isn't it? Our primary witch and two lead Slayers, both rendered essentially powerless."

A frown crossed Giles' forehead. "You may be right. Alert the Slayers also. This could be the prelude to an attack."

Spencer shook his head. "No," he corrected. "I meant I really find it terribly interesting. I wonder how Ms. Buffy and Ms. Faith will instruct the Slayers now? We may have to find them little booster stools. Perhaps we should acquire more child-friendly weapons." He pondered the proposition for a moment. "A 'wiffle bat', possibly? They could teach through the power of wiffle."

Giles' sigh was aggravated. "Yes, thank you, Spencer."

"Should I see about opening an account with Toys R Us, sir?"

"Just— The research." Giles' tone betrayed his irritation.

Spencer allowed the matter to drop. "Very good, sir."

With a brisk stride, he exited the library, presumably to begin gathering Watchers. Pushing back his chair, Giles joined Hannah at a smaller table, where she too was elbow-deep in musty text. Hannah smirked at his approach.

"Cheeky, isn't he?"

Giles grumbled. "Not to mention infuriatingly good at his job."

"I like him," she rejoined.

"You would."

The smirk widened into a grin. "Why thank you."

Giles gestured toward the books. "Nothing yet, I suppose?"

Hannah leaned back. "No, but then we did only just start." She watched Giles reach for one of the volumes. "I've already checked Caplan's Symbololatry," she advised.

Giles' hand changed direction as he selected a different source of information, then took a seat across from his ex-wife. For a moment, the pair concentrated on their research, occasionally glancing at the wooden box between them for reference. Before too long, however, Hannah's attention began to wander.

"Who do you think is the cutest?"

"Hm?" queried Giles, semi-distracted by what he was reading.

Hannah clasped her hands behind her head. "See, you first want to say Willow, because she's just so adorable full-sized. But then the way Faith still has that scowl and attitude despite only being three foot tall ..."

"Oh. Uhm, I don't know," pondered Giles uncertainly. "They're all ..." He poked around his vocabulary database for a more suitable word other than that which sprang instantly to mind. There didn't seem to be one. "Cute," he finished lamely.

"I almost sort of envy them, you know?"

"Not really," responded Giles dryly.

"Oh come on," Hannah urged. "Getting to relive your childhood? Literally? You don’t think that would be exciting?" Her eyes sparkled.

Giles peered at her over the top of his glasses. "I've already been through it once." His eyes exhibited no reciprocating sparkle. "Why on earth would I do that to myself again?"

"You're not looking at the bigger picture," responded Hannah, waving a dismissive hand. "Think of the things you could do differently this time. Save your pocket money instead of buying bag upon endless bag of dolly mixtures. Pay more attention in school." She arched an amused eyebrow. "Not push Cecil Pratchett down the stairwell."

Giles was immediately defensive. "He had that coming. 'Prat' was in his name for a reason, and ..." He shook his head. "And this has absolutely nothing to do with anything. I wouldn't wish to be that age again, and I suspect that Buffy and the others feel the same."

Hannah was inclined to disagree. "Oh, I don't know. I bet they're having a great time."

Had they heard it, the Scoobies might have seen fit to disagree with Hannah's choice of the words "great" and "time". The group could hardly be classified as run-of-the-mill customers, considering that the "kids" were dressed in unconventional clothing at best. Those salespersons not otherwise engaged regarded them with a suspicious and skeptical eye.

As the senior in the outing – by straightforward visual inspection, at least – Tara was doing her utmost to maintain an air of dignified control for the benefit of the high-strung employees. Her success was questionable at best. Faith had almost immediately wrinkled her nose at the inventory, while Willow and Xander were dashing haphazardly from rack to rack, seemingly unable to settle down. Dawn and Buffy, however, had instantly launched into the swing of things.

"How about ..." began Dawn, holding out a pinafore dress of pale lilac. Buffy tilted her head, but Dawn had already whisked it away. "Ugh. No. Okay, maybe ..." She offered a rose red blouse with tiny pearl buttons, but dismissed this also before her sister could even get a decent peek.

"Maybe you let me take a look?" suggested Buffy, hands on her hips.

Dawn grinned. "Aww, widdle Buffy wanna dress herself. That's so cute."

She reached down to pinch Buffy's cheek, but Buffy angrily slapped the hand aside. "Wouldja cut that out? What is your deal?"

"Buffy," cautioned Dawn under her breath. She gestured with her eyes toward the salesperson hovering nearby, who appeared utterly aghast at the diminutive blonde's behavior.

Buffy was not impressed. "Oh for ..."

"Uh-oh, did someone forget to take her Ritalin this morning?" asked Dawn, loudly and meaningfully.

The employee scurried away, obviously having no desire to become involved.

"Ritalin?" echoed Buffy in disbelief.

Dawn brushed off the comment. "I dunno, they give it for everything these days." She rummaged through the rack next to her. "Now could you act the part? I don't think we really wanna try to explain all this."

"Fine," agreed Buffy sulkily. "But could you not enjoy it so much?"

"Oh come on," Dawn cajoled. "You know if you were me and I were you, you would so be enjoying this."

Buffy sniffed and did her best to look and sound superior. "That would be different."

"Oh yeah? How?"

"Because ..." Buffy thought for a moment. "I would be big and you would be little. Which, by the way, is how it should be. Plus, I completely wouldn't care, because hello – been there, done that."

"Exactly!" announced Dawn, apparently happy her sister had finally seen the light. "So now it's my turn to be Big Sis, and your turn to suck it up."

Buffy expelled a disgusted huff, but held her tongue as Dawn thrust another outfit in her direction. This time, neither of them could comment, as Dawn's eyes settled on a new prize. A gleam of excitement crept over the teenager's face as she squealed delightedly. "Barrettes!"

Closing her eyes, Buffy groaned.

Across the store, Tara slowly sifted through an extensive rack of clothing. She deliberately avoided anything flouncy or frilly, but it wasn't easy. So much fell into the flouncy and/or frilly category. Eventually, she selected a relatively plain plaid dress. Hopefully, she showed it to Faith.

"How about this?"

An expression of disgust invaded Faith's features. "Oh, but no."

"Oookay," agreed Tara as she expanded her seeking range.

Rocking on her heels, Faith's eyes roamed restlessly over the store displays. Her sneer of disdain was only too evident. Her gaze returned to Tara as the blonde dangled yet another garment from its hanger.

"This?" Tara smiled expectantly.

Faith simply stared. "Y'know, it's a good thing you're gay an' all, cuz I'd be feelin' all kinds'a sympathy for any kid you might'a had."

"A 'no' would've sufficed," rejoined a frowning Tara.

Faith was agreeable to that. "No."

With a sigh, Tara resumed her search while Faith continued to take stock of the store.

"Damn, I'm glad I can't remember bein' four the first time," she muttered darkly. "Think the embarrassment'd put me in the ground."

Tara peeked around the rack. She was plainly discouraged. "This is all pretty much more of the same. Can you maybe just pick something for now? We can go somewhere else tomorrow."

Faith's aura of cocky defensiveness began to waver a little, and for just a moment, she looked like a typical four-year old. "You really think we'll still be like this tomorrow?"

It was clear that Tara wished she had something more concrete to offer, something more encouraging. "I don't know. I hope not."

Faith puffed out her cheeks and stared at the ceiling. "Yeah."

Kneeling down, Tara sat back on her heels and regarded Faith eye-to-eye. "I know it must be scary," she empathized. "I-I mean I don't know know, but I can imagine." She smiled reassuringly. "We'll figure it out."

It didn't seem possible for Faith to stop fidgeting in place. "Like this ... We're almost helpless. Can't really defend ourselves. Sure as hell can't defend anyone else. It's like all we do, the stuff we were born to do ... it's gone."

"We're gonna fix this," Tara promised with no trace of doubt.

"No, Glinda, you don't get it," Faith told her with an emphatic shake of the head. "I don't know if I want it fixed."

Several racks away, Willow and Xander had joined forces in their quest for ideal outfits.

"Is it wrong that I'm finding stuff I'd wear now?" asked Xander, almost unable to contain his glee. "If I were, you know, Big Xander."

With wide eyes, Willow held up a pair of overalls and brightly-colored shirt. "It feels like I only just got away from clothes like this. All I need now is a- a big funky hat, and I'll have no idea what age I'm supposed to be."

The pair visibly jumped and stared at the saleslady who addressed them from her lofty position. She bent at the waist, lording over them with a patronizing air that could only be cultivated over time. "Hello, dears."

Willow and Xander shared a look.

"Hi?" ventured Willow with a tentative smile.

"Where's your mommy?" She flashed a smile that involved far too many teeth.

Willow rolled her eyes. "Off on another lecture tour. I think she's in Germany today, or maybe Brussels. One of those Anglo-Saxony countries, I can never—"

The redhead's jaw abruptly snapped shut at Xander's elbow in her ribs. The salesperson's smile had vanished and her expression had been replaced with one of complete bewilderment. It was the sort of look one might expect to find on a pet owner, had darling Snooky-Wookums decided one day to politely suggest that a switch from Alpo to Mighty Dog would be a smashing idea, please and thank you.

"Uhm ... Mommy away," Willow clarified, hastening to dumb it down into more easily acceptable kiddy-speak.

"Mommy ride on silver bird over big water to new land." Xander's recitation came complete with broad hand gestures to emphasize each new detail. "Speak funny words, like 'volkswagen' and 'wienerschnitzel'."

The statement did little to reassure the now utterly stupefied employee. She regarded the pair as though they might possibly be Rosemary's Twins.

Willow and Xander stared back for a moment, before their voices raised in harmony.

"Tara!"

In less than a second, Tara was there. "What's the—" She stopped short upon spying the salesperson hovering uncertainly nearby and gave a nervous smile. "Hi. Are- Are the kids bothering you?"

The woman shook her head. "No, I just ..." Her eyes examined Tara from head to toe. "Are you their mother?"

For a brief second, Tara appeared to be offended, but soon recovered her composure. "Uh, no. I'm their ... cousin."

"Yup!" announced Xander cheerfully. "Cousin Tara! We love our Cousin Tara."

"Pick me up, Cousin Tara!" demanded Willow, holding out her arms with mischievously twinkling eyes.

Tara favored the redhead with a covert glare, but Willow continued to beam, broad and full of smug. Only too aware of their close inspection by the suspicious employee, Tara wore a pasted smile as she scooped up an armload of Willow.

"You are in such trouble," Tara grumbled into her girlfriend's ear.

In response, Willow hugged Tara's neck tightly and planted a loud kiss upon her cheek.

"Wow," noted the salesperson with some surprise. "They seem extremely advanced for their age."

"They're precocious little rascals," agreed Tara, staring pointedly at Willow.

"Why I bet you can even do some fun stuff with numbers, can't you?" cooed the employee. She hurried over to the front counter, reached behind it and quickly returned. Opening her hand, she revealed several individually wrapped confections. She made sure that Willow could easily see them. "If I have five pieces of candy—" The woman demonstrated that, yes, there were indeed five items in her hand. "—and I give you three pieces of candy—" She clearly separated three, nudging them up her fingers toward Willow. "—how many pieces of candy would I have left?"

Her question now posed, the salesperson waited expectantly. The smile she wore was nice enough, and yet somehow still irritating, as though she were expecting her pet to perform wondrous tricks any moment now.

Willow wasn't feeling especially wondrous. With the boost in Tara's arms, she was nearly eye-level with the employee, and thus didn't have to strain her neck in order to deliver the most narrow, unamused stare ever to cross a toddler's face.

"I have a bachelor's degree in computer science," Willow replied in flat voice.

By the back wall, Faith watched a vintage electric train and its tiny carriages rattle along a track encircling the store. The engine bore a label that read, "Lionel." Faith's eyebrow rose speculatively. She glanced nonchalantly over her shoulder, but nobody was watching. On the next circuit, she deftly removed the dining car and the caboose, concealing them about her person before sauntering toward Dawn and Buffy. Tara also joined the group with Willow, now deposited back on the ground, shuffling behind.

"You guys find anything?" asked Dawn, juggling the mountain of clothes she was carrying. "Buffy's good to go."

Tara gaped. "Do you really think we'll need all those?"

"I am taking no chances," Buffy informed seriously. "If you think I'm wearing the same pair of Garanimals for the next week, you are very sadly mistaken."

The befuddled saleslady had apparently given up on trying to makes sense of the whole deal. She hovered expectantly, clearly anxious for everyone to be on their way so she could pretend it had been nothing but a perfectly normal day.

"You guys go ahead," Xander directed. "I'm just gonna try a few things on."

He marched toward the changing room with a nice selection of outfits draped over his arm, but the uneasy employee headed him off at the pass. "Sorry dear, you need an adult to accompany you."

Xander was stunned. "Say wha huh?"

"Maybe your cousin?" suggested the saleslady.

Xander's face visibly blanched. Tara turned a little pale herself.

"Oh no. No no no," he stammered, emphatically shaking his head. "Mini-me? Not even in my full glory would this be good."

Faith seemed to find Xander's discomfort far too entertaining. "Be funny as hell though."

"No! No way!" protested Willow firmly. "My girlfriend is not seeing my best friend naked! I call definite 'no way' on this issue!"

With a shaky smile, the employee inched toward the back room. "I'll just be over here if you need me." She quickly took refuge in the safety of inventory.

Buffy sighed a ragged sigh and massaged her temple. "Because my day couldn't get any more surreal" she muttered miserably.

Tara looked at Xander. He had backed defensively into a corner.

"I could close my eyes?" suggested Tara, trying to find a way around this that was acceptable for all parties. "I could start closing them now."

"No need," he readily assured. "My vanity is dully squashed."

With as much dignity as he could muster, Xander lumped his clothes on top of the ones already in Dawn's arms. Willow quickly followed suit. Dawn wilted a little beneath the weight. Reluctantly and still plainly unhappy with the choices, Faith tossed her meager selection to the pile.

"Okay, see? That wasn’t ... so bad, right?" asked Tara brightly.

Dawn simply grunted and nobody else truly had anything to offer by way of agreement. Tara's exaggerated enthusiasm deflated and she made her way to the checkout, pulling out her wallet. The others followed in an untidy line, Dawn bringing up the rear. Her eyes were barely visible above the mound of soon-to-be purchases.

"You know," she puffed, "it's days like today when I wish I had a Blog."

Beyond the windows of the meditation room, the sun was setting with a muted orange glow. From all appearances, neither of the inhabitants had stirred for hours. The child still crouched fearfully in the corner. She seemed utterly exhausted and there were dark smudges underneath her eyes. Occasionally, her head would nod drowsily and her chin would fall heavily upon her chest, but in less than a heartbeat, she was wide awake once more, clearly far too terrified to sleep for more than a few seconds at a time.

The figure in saffron silk maintained her contemplative position and made no movement, either aggressive or otherwise toward the frightened child. Fatigue now the overriding factor, the little girl spoke for the first time.

"You're gonna kill me." The statement was delivered with certainty and a trembling of the bottom lip.

"That is not why you are here."

The child cowered, but asserted a modicum of defiance with a half-glare at the almond-shaped eyes that now burrowed into her own. She took note of the tiny smile. It wasn't a scary smile or a comforting smile – just a smile.

"What is your name?" came the quiet question.

"Paige," was the reply.

The figure nodded, echoing "Paige," but adding nothing else. She watched the child in silence for a moment.

"If you can tell me why you are here, Paige, I will let you return," she eventually prompted.

An expression of hope invaded Paige's careworn features. "I can go home?"

When she received neither confirmation nor denial, the promise of freedom seemed to slowly evaporate into nothingness. Paige clasped her hands around her knees and tucked herself into a tighter ball.

"Are you gonna hurt me?" she whispered.

Again, the child's captor didn't respond, either verbally or physically. Indeed, her expression never changed. Paige became increasingly upset. The weariness and the unending dread – it all grew to be too much. She blinked rapidly and then began to cry, softly and despairingly.

"Shhh," soothed the saffron-clad figure. "Quiet now, aiko."

Paige sniffled. "I'm not that! I'm Paige!" she reprimanded in her misery. "And I'm tired and I don't like it here and I wanna go home!"

The outburst was accepted with infinite patience and no display of anger.

"Sleep," the vampire instructed gently. "We will speak again in the morning."

Paige huddled close to the baseboard. "I can't! They'll hurt me, they'll—"

"I will be here."

Sobs catching in her throat, Paige swiped at the tear-drenched lashes with grubby fingers. The eyes that captured her own appeared to inspire at least a sufficient degree of trust, as Paige curled into a ball on the floor, her back protectively against the wall. She kept watchful vigil for another moment or two, but her lids were so very heavy. Her small body slipped silently into slumber.

"Pleasant dreams, aiko."

Removing the price tags from Buffy's new clothes, Dawn folded them neatly before placing them in the dresser drawer. Using her shoulder to brace the cell phone, she was able to use both hands and still chat at the same time.

"Grip? Hey, it's me." She listened for a moment and then laughed nervously. "Yeah, about that. You know how I was really looking forward to the movies tonight and everything, right?" An expression of deep regret crossed her features. "Uh-huh. It's this ... Something's come up and it's pretty big. Or, actually not big, which is kind of the problem. I mean—" Her face fell and she grimaced. "You're disappointed, aren't you?" She nodded at the response. "I'm so sorry." She smoothed the box pleats of a little tartan skirt. "Yeah. Yeah, me too." She listened again, obviously crestfallen. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow?" She nodded once more. "Okay. Bye."

With a huge sigh, Dawn disconnected the call, and set about putting away the remainder of the clothes.

Downstairs, the front door opened and Hannah entered. She had some books tucked beneath one arm and a spare pillow and couple of blankets under the other.

"Hello?" she called.

"In the kitchen," Tara responded, accompanied by the rattle of pots and pans.

Making a detour into the living room, Hannah deposited her load onto the couch, where Buffy and Xander were sitting next to each other. Both wore brand new outfits and Xander had taken possession of the remote control. He clutched it tightly in his small fist.

"I see this afternoon went well," Hannah observed with a smile.

"I got Spider-Man Underoos," beamed Xander.

"Very exciting," acknowledged Hannah. "What about you, Buffy, did you get ..." She was clearly unfamiliar with the word. "Underoos also?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Underoos are for boys."

"Ah, well, I guess you wouldn't then," admitted Hannah wryly.

Buffy indicated the blankets with a tilt of her chin. "Sleeping over?"

"It's for Faith," replied Hannah. "I talked it over with Rupert, and we thought it would be best to keep you all together until we work this out."

Xander grinned. "Slumber party! Cool."

Without warning, Buffy's mouth opened wide in a huge yawn. Since such an action is almost always contagious, Xander was compelled to follow suit.

"Looks like it's somebody's bedtime," remarked Hannah with an air of indulgence.

"I'm the Slayer," Buffy stated firmly. "My bedtime is like ..." Her words trailed away as she rolled smoothly into another yawn. "...like 4am," she added sleepily.

Hannah was nothing if not sympathetic. "It's been a harrowing day."

Crossing her arms, Buffy frowned. "Stupid kid constitution."

"Cartoons!" announced Xander blithely, settling back against the cushion.

"I don't wanna watch cartoons," Buffy protested. "You watch cartoons all the time."

Xander regarded her with disbelief. "But look, it's 'Dexter's Laboratory'!"

Totally unimpressed with this snippet of vital information, Buffy grabbed for the remote but Xander held it at armslength. The pair began to bicker back and forth and Hannah, deciding such would be the ideal time to make good her escape, moved quickly toward the kitchen.

With an expert hand, Tara chopped lettuce and tomatoes for a salad, while Dawn leaned on the island counter, pouring over a musty book. Willow was perched on the counter next to Tara's workspace, not looking particularly happy with life in general. Faith was nowhere to be seen.

Tara smiled and reached for a cucumber. "Hi, Mrs. Giles. Did you find anything yet?"

"Not just yet," replied Hannah, snagging herself a crouton, "but Rupert seems confident that they're narrowing the field considerably. He's supposed to come over shortly so we can consolidate our findings so far."

"Sounds good to me," sighed Dawn. "I'm going nowhere on a ten-speed here."

Hannah gestured toward the living room. "I brought over a few more volumes that might help shed some light."

Dawn's eyes sparkled with pleasure. "Oo!" she enthused, hopping down from the stool. Halfway to the exit, she stopped short and turned back. "I just totally lost some cool kid cred there, didn't I?"

"But'cha gained some with the geeks," Willow countered, "and everybody knows that we really run the world."

"Don’t worry, we won't tell anyone you slipped," Tara reassured.

"Whew!" breathed Dawn in relief. "Tentative social acceptance maintained!"

At a more sedate pace, she left the kitchen as Tara returned to her rhythmic chopping.

"Where's Faith?" queried Hannah, "I wanted to talk to her about sleeping arrangements and such."

Tara jerked her head toward the door leading to the rear of the house. "She said she was going outside for a little while."

Hannah moved to the window. Faith stood on the lawn, gazing upward at the second level. Her expression was one of intense concentration. She apparently had much on her mind.

Tara sprinkled the salad liberally with grated cheese. "I think she's taking all this a bit hard."

"And who can blame her!" huffed Willow.

Hannah glanced over her shoulder. "Something wrong? Well, something besides the obvious."

"I'll say there's somethin' wrong!" exploded the diminutive redhead. "A-And not just a little, easily brushed-over something either, no sir! We're talking, big, unignorable, Godzilla-in-Tokyo-sized wrong!"

Hannah regarded Tara with some alarm. Making sure that she was beyond Willow's range of vision, Tara delivered a wry smile, indicating she didn't exactly share Willow's feelings of unimaginable horror. Meanwhile, Willow waited impatiently for Hannah's expected inquiry, which surely would materialize at any second.

"What is it?"

"Well I'll show you then!" blurted Willow, in need of no further prompting.

Turning her head, she glowered at something across the room. The glower was dark, deliberate and focused. So very focused. Hannah's eyes tracked Willow's intense stare. With a tiny smirk, Tara resumed her kitchen duties. After a moment of riveting silence and no activity, Hannah felt obliged to speak up.

"So we hate the potholders now?" she questioned.

"Do you see it?" asked Willow, neck snapping in Hannah's direction.

Hannah appeared far from sure. "What am I supposed to be seeing?"

"How about anything?" questioned Willow curtly. "I'll take an anything right about now with very little complaint!"

Hannah was confused.

"Willow's not finding the magick thing too easy right now," explained Tara.

"'Not too easy'?" Willow's voice climbed an octave. "I can't even—"

"You were able to float me the zucchini earlier," comforted Tara, effectively bringing to a halt Willow's journey toward an enraged outburst. "Honey, you're probably just tired," she added soothingly. "Your little body's not really made to be so witchy just yet."

Willow crossed her arms with a huff. "I hate my little body," she grumbled.

"Then I'll just love it enough for both of us," rejoined Tara, treating the redhead to a gigantic hug.

Hannah's mouth formed an involuntary and soundless 'aww' at the sight.

Tara's lips brushed Willow's bright hair in a gentle kiss. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay home tomorrow?"

Willow emphatically shook her head. "Nope. Buffy's got the right idea – it's bad enough that we can't go. You and Dawnie are school-bound tomorrow, and that's that. Promise?"

"Promise," the blonde seriously vowed.

Suddenly, a shattering of glass emanated from the living room, immediately followed by Dawn's exclamation of surprise. Hannah and Tara dashed toward the commotion, leaving Willow on the high counter.

Dawn was standing in front of the couch, open books littering the cushions. A table lamp lay broken on the floor and in the center of the room, Buffy and Xander were wrestling – literally – for the remote.

"Give it!" demanded Buffy, straddling Xander and pounding him with clenched fists.

Xander squirmed and covered his head. "No! It's mine! Wanna – watch – Dexter!"

"Oh my god," breathed Dawn scornfully, "how old are you?!"

As the oddness of her question began to sink in, Dawn was left with no suitable follow-up. For her part, Hannah appeared to be totally shocked.

"They're mentally regressing as well!" she commented wonderingly.

Tara shook her head. "No, this is normal."

Dawn nodded her confirmation.

"Oh," responded Hannah, deflating a little.

As the front burst door open, the pair continued to fight, not caring if their behavior met with approval or otherwise. Giles barely spared them a glance. Wearing an expression of grave concern, he had a book tucked under his arm and was using his finger to mark one of the pages.

"I think I've found new information about the magicks used," he announced worriedly. "I'm afraid that very soon ... those affected will begin to mentally regress as well." His eyes traveled to the couple grappling on the floor.

Hannah immediately reinflated. "Oh!"

Nobody could seem to do anything but stare at the rapidly deteriorating squabble, when suddenly there was something new to attract their attention.

Over their heads came the sound of pounding boots from the roof. Every adult eye tracked its progress as it moved at an ever-increasing speed, and was soon accompanied by jubilant shouting in a familiar voice – Faith. With a final triumphant battlecry, the boots abruptly ceased their pounding, and the whoop of victory echoed into the evening air. It was a sound of pure delight, punctuated all too soon by the thud of a small body making impact with the earth.

On the floor, Xander and Buffy continued their full-fledged battle for supremacy. The quartet of caregivers seemed torn, unsure of who should get inbetween Buffy and Xander, who should check on Faith, and who should begin working immediately to sort out this mess.

Suddenly, a plaintive little voice drifted in from the kitchen.

"Uhm, help?"