*****

Dear Diary,

That still sounds so stupid and...*girly* to me. "Dear Diary". I'd try to come up with a new name for you...but I'm just *way* too tired to really care.

It's been a long and strange day.

It's Father's Day. A day when all families get together and celebrate their patriarch. And we did. The entire gang popped over to Giles and surprised him with a small cake, a fancy tin full of his favorite tea and a sappy card that we all signed. Even Spike. He was...touched. In that stuffy yet endearing I'm-trying-not-to-be-emotional-while-I-polish-my-glasses-because-I'm-British way of his.

It's not that we *don't* have fathers. Because we do. All of us...even Spike if you want to count Angel. However, there is a big difference between insanely abusive fathers (Tara's, Spike's and mine), neglectful absentee fathers (Willow's, Buffy and Dawn's) and the father-figure/mentor that is always there when you need him to be no questions asked. We actually took a vote. Rupert Giles is *our* father. By choice. Ours.

And that was nice.

We all needed to let loose of some stress and steam in a nonviolent non-life-threatening way. And we did.

But it wasn't what I needed the *most*. Nor was it what Spike needed the most either. After we left, the two of us went hunting. I know that we call it "patrolling" when we're around the others. It sounds nicer to say it that way, but in reality...Spike and I hunt. We hunt to kill.

It's odd how watching some random demon die an agonizing death can ease the pain of missing and yearning and craving the touch of a woman who was once one of the most feared and powerful demons to ever live. But it does.

So...we hunt. And we kill.

And then we get drunk.

After Giles' surprise party we hunted, then we went to Willie's Alibi Bar. Neither one of us has a very good rep there, but so what. If anyone fucks with us, we kill them. End of problem, right? Yeah...I thought so too.

So...we head inside and we both order a double shot of cheap ass whiskey. I also get a beer to chase it while Spike, as usual, orders a mug of O+ to chase his. We're just done yelling at Willie to pour us more whiskey when who should plop his fat unwanted ass on the stool next to mine?

Yep, you guessed it. My *real* father.

Or should I say *biological* father since the G-man has been more of a dad to me then *he* ever was?

Anyway, he didn't even recognize me at first. I'm not surprised. I haven't seen him since I moved out of the basement and Willie's wasn't his normal haunt, so I know he didn't realize that it was *mine*. It took me a full minute to decide *not* to just get up and walk away...leave his survival to fate. So...I spoke to him.

I tried to tell him that he was in the most dangerous bar in the most dangerous part of town, but he didn't listen. I really did try to warn him...so I don't think what happened is my fault.

He insisted that if *I* was there then Willie's couldn't be *that* bad because I was a little wuss. Then he began to bitch at me for not getting him anything for Father's Day. So...I bought him a beer and offered Spike's and my services to make sure he got home in one piece.

He refused.

With a sloppy drunken punch to my face.

I think it shocked him when I caught his fist in mid air before it landed and then returned one of my own to his gut. I know it shocked *me*. I was just reacting on instinct. And since Anya's death at Glory's hands, my instincts have been to kill.

I'm sort of surprised that I didn't actually kill him. I almost did, in fact. Came close to staking him, but I managed to stop myself at the last second. However, flashing a stake around while getting violent in a demon bar is a surefire way to start a to-the-death type of bar brawl.

Spike and I had fun. Killed lots of ugly and beautiful demons.

Dad was freaked though. So...now he knows about the *true* denizens of Sunnydale's night life. And it *isn't* him and his drinking buddies like he'd always thought. It's me and mine.

I think that he's afraid of me. It's a nice change.

Alexander L. Harris

END