After realizing how woozy regular blood loss made them, Jonathan and Andrew had agreed to take turns feeding the miniature Tucker. Then, after realizing how creepy it was to have a tiny vampire suck on their fingers, they had ordered a dollhouse tea set for Tuck to use.

Jonathan slid the tiny teacup over to Tucker. Tucker, as he always did, raised an itty-bitty middle finger in reply.

“I’ve told you,” Jonathan said. “If you want people to believe that you’re really British, you’re going to have to do the V sign. It means ‘up yours.’”

Tucker ignored him, seating himself at Janine Melnitz’s desk to enjoy his lunch. The Ghostbusters firehouse had once been a pristine, unboxed display piece in the lair’s living room. It had even survived the wreckage of the slayer fight that had dented the decorative Hylian Shield and destroyed the sliding glass door. But, a week into living together, Tucker and the miniaturized Fyarl waiter drew a line down the center of the Hoth playset they’d been sharing. Without a pen small enough for them, the line had been made out of the Fyarl’s quick-hardening mucus, ruining the plastic floor of the ice planet. It had been the last straw for finicky Tucker, who spent an hour jabbering into Andrew’s ear about needing his own space.

Andrew, thrilled to have his brother back in his life, no matter how small or surly, set the firehouse and Hoth at opposing ends of the kitchen table, with the USS Enterprise’s bridge and a Hot Wheels garage between them for entertainment. It was a growing neighborhood. Andrew had plans to expand into a Bowser castle and a Batcave. If he could win the eBay auctions for them.

“You two play nice,” Jonathan warned Tucker and the Fyarl. “I’ll be back later. And Andrew might even have a new expansion for you. He said he was going to stop into the toy store on his lunch break.”

Jonathan prayed that he’d be able to crack the embiggening ray before the entire kitchen became a tiny amusement park for its two unwilling occupants. The longer they kept Tucker, the more likely it was that he’d try to attack them the second he was full size again. As it was, he’d exhausted himself trying to bite Jonathan’s hand the first week.

Jonathan rushed out to the driveway. While Anya couldn’t resurrect Warren without disrupting the time stream, she had granted Jonathan and Andrew’s Wish to have the keys to their cargo van. The Death Star that Andrew had airbrushed onto the side shone in the porchlight.