Buffy bounded up the stairs of her home, her thoughts racing.  There had been so much sadness abounding in all of their lives that she was thrilled to finally be able to do something positive.  All she had to do was mend a broken relationship and somehow reincorporate Anya into their group despite her current demonic status.  She was the slayer; if she could save the world countless times, she could do this!

But first, she had to make a phone call and convince Xander to join her on patrol.

"Willow, Dawn!"  She ran into the pair as they talked in the bathroom, Dawn with an eyeliner pencil poised in one hand and Willow seated on the edge of the tub.

Dawn's hand jerked at Buffy's sudden appearance.  She dropped the make up into the sink.  "Willow was just giving me a few pointers," she said hurriedly.

"Yeah, just some girl advice before we went out to the Bronze.  You wanna come?" Willow added.

Buffy smiled in response.  "Patrol.  But why don't you invite Anya?  I bet she'd like the chance to get out of the shop and, who knows, maybe she'll run into a scorned woman at the club and get to wreck some vengeance."

"Um… Anya?"  Dawn looked at Willow's reflection in the mirror, seeing a confusion that matched her own.  "But—"

"She's a demon now.  Yeah, I got ya'.  That's what she kept saying.  But try anyway, huh?" Buffy replied.  "Just ask her.  I know there's a lot to get past, but she's kind of lonely and could use a few friends right now."

"Okay," Willow said hesitantly.  "I guess we could always ask.  I mean, what are the chances that she'll say yes anyway?"

Buffy watched as Dawn shrugged and picked up the eye pencil again.

*** ** ***

The phone wouldn't stop ringing and Xander glared at it, hoping to intimidate it into shutting up.  It didn't work however and he finally lifted the receiver from its cradle.

"What?"

"Xander?" Buffy's voice echoed in his ear.

"Yeah," he allowed, waiting for more.

"I was wondering, would you come out with me on patrol tonight?  Willow and Dawn are going out and…"

He looked at the four empty beer bottles that littered the kitchen bar.  "I don't think—"

"I'll come by and pick you up.  That way we can leave straight from your place.  See ya' in ten."

He hung up the phone; the realization that his friend had just steamrolled right over him did not escape his inebriated attention.  That gave him ten minutes to either sober up or finish off the six-pack.  He decided on the latter, no longer caring if his drunkenness had witnesses or not.

*** ** ***

Dusk was just beginning to descend when Buffy pulled up in front of the apartment building.  She had left the house as a surprised Willow and Dawn were also heading out on their way to the Magic Box to meet Anya.  Buffy hoped the evening went well for the mismatched trio because she still wasn't entirely sure how to begin her mission with Xander.

Being on patrol would help matters since they would be on foot in the dark and she wouldn't be able to clearly se his expression.  Plus, the occasional vampire or demon would keep the conversation's mood lighter than it would be were they to sit down someplace and talk uninterrupted.

Closing the station wagon's door as quietly as possible, she hurried up the front steps.  The sooner she got to Xander, the sooner she could start getting him and Anya back on the right track. 

"We'll walk down this hall, and we'll say, "La la, I'm on my way to Xander's."

"Just warning you, Xander, I probably won't be doing that."

"Really? I will."

The memory was a jolt to her subconscious.  They had all changed so much since that pleasant afternoon.

In a hushed voice, she said in a singsong tone, "La la, I'm on my way to Xander's."

An elderly lady was just stepping out into the hallway when Buffy rounded the corner, obviously having overheard the comment and gave her a strange "kids these days" look before stepping out of the hallway again.

Reddened from her embarrassment, Buffy grinned when she finally reached Xander's door and knocked, waiting for him to appear. 

"Hey you, are ya' ready?"  She stopped dead in her tracks when the scent of beer hit her.  "Oh my—Have you been drinking?  You're drunk," she sputtered, in answer to her own question.

"Wha's it t' you?" Xander slurred, taking an unsteady step backward.

Buffy's thoughts froze.  She had been prepared for many possibilities, but the notion that he could be drunk had never been one of them.  After so many years spent in his father's house, she had never considered he might turn to alcohol.

"Why?"

"Huh?"  Xander's steps were unsteady on the thick pile of the carpet as he headed toward the sofa.

Buffy remained at the gaping door, staring at the stranger who had taken over her friend's body.

"What?" he snapped when he looked back up and saw he still standing there, staring at him.

"I—"  Buffy's tongue suddenly felt too large for her mouth.  "I just can't believe—"

"Wha's the sayin'?" Xander asked, his words slow and heavy.  "Like father, like son?"

"No!" she demanded, realizing that her mission had just grown exponentially.  She pulled the door closed as she entered the messy apartment.  "You are not your father," she insisted, "and you never could be."