One week later
Saturday afternoon, 6 pm

Xander returned home to change after running some errands for his mother. He
heard a resounding crash from the kitchen and he winced. *Dad. Well, Happy
Birthday to Me. Figures, some things never change.* he locked the door behind
him and ran to the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway to take in the scene.

What he saw didn't shock him in the least, as it was typical lately of life at
the Harris house. LaVelle Harris was waving an empty whiskey bottle, and screaming
at his wife. "I TOLD YOU TO BUY ME MORE!!!!" he screamed at the woman, who was
backed up against the wall, looking scared to death. He saw Xander out of the
corner of his eye, and turned. "Hello, Alex," he smiled at Xander, but the
smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Happy birthday, Boy."

Xander just sighed and shook his head. "You're home," he said unnecessarily.

"You always were good at stating the obvious," LaVelle replied with a snort.
"Now, how about you go get your dad a bottle of whiskey from the store."

*Well, other than the fact that I'm only eighteen today, Dad and I can't buy
alcohol; there's also the fact that you're an asshole when you're drunk. Or
should I say MORE of an asshole...* "Can't Dad. Not old enough," Xander
shrugged.

"Mary, go get me more whiskey," LaVelle ordered. "Alex and I need to have a
little chat, anyway."

Mary nodded and ran out, barely looking at either man on her way out.

"I can't chat," Xander said. "I have plans tonight and I need to get ready." He
turned to go back to the basement, hoping his father wouldn't stop him. He
didn't breathe again until he reached the basement stairs, closing the door
behind him.

*Shit, he's got great timing. He's back, and that means he's either between
jobs - oh please let him just be between jobs - or he's lost yet another job. I
can't even think about that. He's going to be impossible to live with if that's
the case.*

Xander changed into khaki pants and a dark green shirt, Buffy having told him
the party she was throwing for him was dress casual. "Whatever the hell that
means," Xander sighed. He hadn't wanted a party, he'd begged and pleaded
and tried every possible persuasive method he had, but there was no changing
her mind. She was _having_ a birthday party for him, and that was all there was
to it.

Xander smiled, it wasn't like he minded all _that_ much, but he would have
enjoyed the evening more just spending time with her alone. Well, maybe
later...

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN YOU COULDN'T FIND MY BRAND?!"

Xander looked up at the sound, and rushed back upstairs. His mother was huddled
the floor in the corner of the kitchen, holding her hand to a large gash above
her right eye. There was broken glass everywhere, and his father was standing
over her, a liquor bottle in hand.

"LEAVE HER ALONE!" Xander yelled, rushing to protect his mother. He helped the
woman to her feet and then stood between his parents, facing his father. . "Get
the HELL away from her!" he glared at his father, inwardly wincing. He'd never
actually stood up to his father before. Before, he'd simply done his smart-ass
comment routine, in order to draw his father's attention away from his mother.
He'd never dared to raise his voice to the man. But even though he knew
it wasn't the most brilliant thing he'd ever done, it felt good.

"What the HELL are YOU doing ordering me around, Boy? What do YOU do while
I'm gone, except EAT ALL THE FOOD AND TAKE UP SPACE? HUH????" his father roared,
and swung at him. Luckily, the man's balance was lacking and he only
succeeded in falling to the floor with a thud.

Xander watched him with something halfway between disgust and amusement.
"Mom, go downstairs," he said calmly. He breathed a sigh of relief when his
mother did just that. He looked back at the man who was getting to his feet
slowly. "You're drunk, dad. Go sleep it off." *Please don't do this. Not
tonight.*

LaVelle Harris glared at his son. "YOU USELESS KID! STOP TELLING ME WHAT TO
DO!!!" he yelled. He broke the whiskey bottle against the wall and swung it at Xander.

"Shit, dad!" Xander yelled and jumped back. He grabbed his father's arm, and
twisted his wrist. His father dropped the bottle with a yell. *All that patrolling has paid off, in more ways than one* Xander thought grimly. He released
his father's hand, thinking that would be the end of it.

He was wrong.

His father swung at him and his closed fist connected with Xander's left eye.
Xander stumbled back, but kept his balance. He stood his ground and met his
father's glare with a quiet gaze. "Done now?" he asked calmly.

"Yer not worth't," the man slurred and turned away. Xander watched him
stumble into the living room, collapsing on the couch. Xander sighed, putting
his hand to his face gingerly.

There was no blood on his fingers when he withdrew his hand. *Well, it could be
worse* he thought. "Welcome home, Dad. And thanks for the birthday present,"
he mumbled and returned to the basement.

******