paratti

"Well, that was depressing." Wes sighed.

Spike just took a gulp from his flask, before offering it to an equally depressed Giles.

It wasn't until he'd taken almost as long a gulp and got his breath back from choking on the brew in question that he asked the most important question. "What was that?"

Spike drained the hip flask before looking up. "Dunno. Got it from the shibeen last night... well, this mornin'."

Giles, breathing normally once again, shook his head and asked the even more important question. "I believe we had the discussion on buying Harry a vuvuzela."

Spike pulled out a fresh flask. "Not guilty, mate."

Giles picked up the small scruffy-haired England shirt-wearing mini-Giles who had learned early that supporting England meant to the end and beyond and so was still blowing the said vuvuzela, said quiety but firmly, "Harald?"

Anya's eyes in a pocket verion of his own face looked at him solemly. "I promised,"

Wes interrupted smiling at the small boy. "Which is very important." He looked at Giles and swallowed. "He wanted one so much and one does have to give one's godson presents... Okay, never again."

"There will be meat in your car in the Top Gear Botswanna Safari Special re-enactment."

"'S allright." Spike said and fished out two small packages from his top pocket.

The watchers looked at the gold in their hands and there was a synchronised, "Earplugs?"

Spike tried to grin, "What can I say? Vampire. Sensitive ears."

Wes smiled. "Vampires. Life savers. Who'd have thought it."

Spike shook the now empty flask. "Should have turned Gordon Banks when I had the chance. Sorry about that."

Gilles ruffled Harry's hair with one hand and with a practised parental move grabbed the contraband noisemaker with the other. "He would have only been able to play night matches,. Still, I'd wish for a goalkeeper who doesn't make a catastophic error if I didn't worry about vegeance demons."

Spike perked up. "I could still eat Maradona. Know it's a bit late and all but- It'd cheer me up!"

Wes fished three beers out of the small child bag and told him, "No. Too much cholesterol."

Giles took his beer with a smart exchange for the vuvuzela. "We'll be taking the trip back to Cape Town with the Council helicopter. Are you both coming? Or will you be drowing your sorrows in advance in Soweto like last night?"

Wes, eyes still bloodshot from partying in townships with a vampire and footy supporters local and international, "The yanks will be unbearable."

Spike nodded. "And there will be beers for the duration?"

Giles nodded.

Spike looked at Wes. "We drink the chopper dry. Watch the Stevie G goal on the i-phone over and over again. We deliver Giles and Harry back to Anya and the kiddies. Then, we drown our sorrows down at the waterfront!"

Wes gulped. But nodded.