When they got back, Spencer told himself, he was going to sit somewhere and drink coffee and find some sugar from somewhere and just not move for a little while; his spells were getting stupidly weaker, out of practice since the war and never that good in the first place, and he was finding it harder to concentrate on the more effective ones. Mikey set a good lead, though, and Spencer followed him, using Petrificus totalus and Stupefy liberally, trying not to look too closely at the opponents they were fighting.
The crows from Mikey's spell seemed to freak them a little, and they stumbled backwards, leaving the area a little clearer than before. Spencer sent a few of the last elves still crowded around whatever it was on the ground flying backwards with "Deprimo!", and stepped closer warily--
And promptly stepped back, covering his hand with his mouth and retching a little hopelessly, struggling to not actually throw up. A lack of food since breakfast helped with that, but he still had to turn away, hand over his mouth. "Fuck," he said, weakly. "Fuck. Mikey."