3 Inches

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3 Inches
Chapter 04


The male occupants of the room groan in unison.

"But he is cute… and little… isn't he?" Garld asks and looks from one to the other with a frown. Then, suddenly, she remembers something and pulls open a drawer and gets out… Dawn.

Xander's frantic head shaking doesn't even make her reconsider it. Spike growls, more out of confusion than anything else, when Garld presents Dawn to him.

"You have a doll looking like Dawn?" Spike exclaims, irritated.

"Yes! And oh my god. She fits perfectly doesn't she? Just the right size, don't you think?"

Spike looks at the doll more closely. "She is a bit too tall." He eventually says uncomfortably, subtly trying to look taller than he was.

"Oh wait I have to get the other ones!"

Spike's eyes widen. "The other ones?"

Xandehandhands come up to hide his face. "Oh god."

Spike turns sharply. "You, whelp, will tell me immediately what is going on here!" He says, with an authority one wouldn't think he still possesses.

Garld comes back and then Spike is as speechless as Xander.

"How… I mean… I just.. and..so fast!" Xander trails off, stunned by the accuracy of the figures.

Broum just chuckles and relaxes back into his chair, determined to watch the scene going on.

"You're not doing some obscure voodoo shit are you?" Spike growls redundantly, because he already knows there is no chance of danger from these two. M'reit demons just aren't any danger as long you don't come between them and their children. And Spike hasn't seen any children, so he considers Xander and himself safe.

Garld laughs. "No voodoo. William." She smiles at him and holds up the doll of the watcher. "You think I've got him right?"

"Name's Spike!" Spike snarls, vehemently, then cocks his head, taking in the doll. "He is a bit fatter around the middle." He says, smirking and makes a step towards the doll, grabbins was waistband. "Are these anatomically correct?"

"Oh no!" Garld pulls the doll back out of Spike's reach.

"No they aren't or no I am not allowed to check?" Spike quirks.

"There is no need for you to check it, even if you did, it's not like you could compare and really…" Xander trails off when Spike just looks at him, an eyebrow cocked, lips in an amused smile.

"God, tell me you haven't seen Giles' … delicate bits!" Xander cries, holding his hands a few inches away from his ears so he can clamp them down and block out everything Spike might say next.

"I was chained to his bath tub, wasn't I? Haven't seen a second bathroom in old Rupe's flat." Spike bites his own lip when he revises the sentences he just said. Damn, had he really admitted to being chained to a watcher's bath tub?

Broum takes in a hissing breath. "Can't help saying it, but these 'friends' of yours, toyboy, sure have dubious methods." He says, an angry tone underlying his words.

"I.. he.. we.. it was for his own good." Xander stutters, feeling weirdly embarrassed under the disapproving stare of his boss. Spike snorts and Garld tries to chase away the uncomfortable tension between the men by showing off the other dolls.

"Here is Willow – the witch." She says, and presents a red haired doll that looks pretty much like Willow, but the eyes don't seem right somehow, Xander thinks. Too dark and too hard somehow, not the friendly light in them like from the Willow he has known since he was little and remembers so fondly, way more like the woman Willow is today and maybe the eyes aren't so wrong at all. Xander frowns and watches as Garld lays the Willow doll on the table and Spike kicks it.

"That's for making me.. little!" He kicks it again, then: "Can we have a pyre? It's not like it’s the real witch, but it’d sure be great to see her burn." He grins evilly, eyes sparkling and Xander feels oddly amused by the words, even though he knows he should feel repulsed by the idea.

It's kinda like when your kid learns their first bad word and yells it out loud in a family meeting – everybody laughs and even though you know you should really talk to it and tell it why it's wrong to say something like that, you can hardly suppress the smile when you do.

Garld pulls out a Buffy mini, a little Anya doll, even Cordelia in smaller than life size and Spike just stares and you can practically see the drool forming, with one wicked idea chasing after another.

"Wow, Garld – these are so great, thank you so much." Xander finally manages to say, taking the Cordelia doll in his hand and stroking back the long dark brown hair, tracing the plastic face with a soft smile that makes Spike want to puke.

"So, Lady, where is mine? Maybe I can use the clothes and get out of the white – it makes me sick-er." Spike looks expectantly at Garld, whose gaze darts to Xander and then to her husband.

Xander feels ill suddenly – he'd never thought about Spike when he asked Garld to build the dolls for him as gifts for the Scoobies for Christmas. He'd given her photos and descriptions, even a newspaper article with a photo of Cordelia, slime drenched with the headline: Sewer system of L.A. has unexpected dangers.

Never had the thought of giving Spike a gift come into his head, there where no pics or anything of Spike when he sorted through the material he could maybe use, so he didn't contemplate the vamp for one second. He swallows hard.

"Erm.."

The telephone on the counter in the store rings and Broum stands up, gives Xander a strange look, as if he's figuring out something new and unpleasant about the youth, then he drawls: "Well, toyboy, looks like you’ll have to find a new present for Spike here, looks like the surprise is spoiled." Broum leaves the room with a pointed glance to his wife, satisfied by the deep flush on Xander's face.

"Oh! William – " she giggles. "I mean, Spike – I just finished Cordelia last night and wanted to start with your mini-version.." she frowns then smiles apologetically. "With your plastic-mini-version today. I am glad you're here – now you can help me with everything and you won't be too bored whilst Xander and Broum do their stuff."

Spike smiles at her – he'd get clothes his size and he'll even chose them, get them handmade exactly like he wants them to be, so it doesn't matter.

Doesn't matter if the whelp hadn't ordered a doll of him. Would be creepy even to see himself in plastic. Yes. Glad, the whelp didn't attempt that. Big Bad is unique. And as long as there – who was he kidding – it did twinge a bit but he had to admit, Harris and himself, they weren't on the best terms and all he'd give Harris for Christmas was a new improved, especially deep piercing, insult. But at least he'd have thought about the whelp, he'd haven cen creative and would have invested time and that has to count for something – doesn't it? He looks up and glares at Xander.

"TOYBOY!" The deep baritone voice has Xander up and moving in less than a second, or maybe it is more that Xander finally has a reason to leave Spike, who has forced him into an unexpected conscious analysis with the accusing look he has given him.

As soon as Spike is alone with Garld, his shoulders slump and he looks up sadly into the warm grey eyes of the woman that, like many others, doesn't look at all like you'd imagine a demon.

"Sssh, William. Give him time, he's learning." She whispers and cups her hand around Spike's small back. Spike lets himself lean into the touch and sighs when warmth envelops him.

"What do you say, let me measure you and lets decide on some fabric and then you can go to sleep while I sew your new clothes together, agreed?" She reaches in one of the drawers under the desk, grabs the tape measure and shoves the half-finished plastic mini-figure of a darker, broader man to the back, as far as it goes, hoping Spike hasn't noticed the movement.

Upon seeing the tape measure, Spike leers at Garld, suggestively raising eyebrows and biting his lower lip. "How do you want me, baby?"

Garld laughs, her eyes twinkling. "I want yo the the best clothes you can get around here." She says, and makes a gesture for him to get out of the pieces of handkerchief he has folded, not without some talent, and knotted around himself as a makeshift toga.

She does flinch, when she takes in his naked form and Spike grins at her, not in the least embarrassed about his unclothed state, sure of his looks and effect on women.

Garld however flinches because of what she can see are the signs of malnourishment, there are still bruises and scratches on the mini-vamp’s body, which can only be from the fight Xander wrote down about earlier, which was the cause of the shrinking. The skin seems a bit too white and too thin and the bones are better defined than the muscles on the tiny vamp's body.

"I am sure we can get you some blood around here which you can have before you go to sleep. You must be hungry." Spike looks at her, not really expecting that as an reaction to his body and for the first time in a while he glances down and *really* looks at himself, taking in his rib cage, his drawn-in belly and outstanding hip bones, knobbly knees. Oh.

"Blood'd be good. The fight.., was injured.., must have been more injured than I thought. Lost a lot of blood an' all." He says, trying to justify his appearance and Garld nods curtly.

"Good, then let's get this over with fast so you can get some blood. Wouldn't do any good to draw this out longer than necessary."


Xander stands in the door jamb, watching Garld and Spike, who are unaware of him. They are pretty involved in their measuring, Spike actually giggles when Garld tickles him with her fingernails accidentally, or more often now, on purpose. He just wants to tell Spike that he has to make some deliveries and will be gone until noon, just so the vamp knows, but now he doesn't want to disturb the easy companionship and good mood the two are in, so he turns away and leaves without saying anything. He grabs the boxes from the counter and does not meet Broum's curious gaze before leaving the shop.

Somehow this all went wrong and he wants the old Spike back, the one that's not vulnerable and who's snarky and annoying and strong and confident and who doesn't need help from him, isn't dependent on him, 'cause really – this is too much responsibility and he’s already managed to piss off Broum and hifthift out of Garld's attention span.

He climbs into the delivery van and turns the key in the ignition, shudders when Cher cries out 'if I could turn back time' and decides no radio for him today, shuts it off and concentrates on manoeuvring the van out through the narrow gateway.

Maybe if he brings back some lunch, they'll be okay with him again.

tbc