"I've heard this song and dance before

Title: In The Aeroplane Over the Sea

Author: Mr Klortho

Rating: Teen (Really, suitable for all ages, but I just want to make sure I cover my basis)

Summary: For Xander, he has made a new life for himself away from the dangers and pitfalls of his previous "night life". What happens when he receives a visit from the one person who may just force him to face the most heartbreaking moment of his past?

A/N: This is a story that has been floating around in my head for the past year. I finally decided to put it down to paper. I wish I could say it was so you people could finally get a glimpse at the genius that is me. Truthfully, it’s because I'm really bored, and I want some props for writing something. This isn’t going to be very long, more than likely only one more chapter. This chapter is mainly setup. Oh, and try to figure out the crossover. It’s not very difficult. If there is one thing you should know about me, its that I'm easy.

Disclaimer: I don’t own BtVS, or anything to do with it, blah blah blah.

­­­­­­­­

"Oh buddy, another day like this, and I'm gonna stop that whole "workin' for a living. And takin' what they're giving". And just flat out punch Huey Lewis in the face."

With another brutal day at the job site behind him, Xander Harris was more than ready to kick back on his recliner, grab a beer, watch the ballgame, and zone out for the next, oh, 28-52 hours. As he shut the front door to his modest 3 bedroom home though, he knew that no matter how many times he clicked the heels of his work boots together, such a lovely thought was simply not possible. No, with a few hours worth of paperwork and blueprints to look over, plus the bathroom toilet upstairs that was still acting up (damn the epic disaster that was "curries-of-the-world" night!), Xander was going to be knee deep in what he lovingly called, "boca del infierno di suburban-o". You would think that after 4 years of being out of the brand spankin' new Watchers Council, he would be used to his new life of 9 to 5 and no patrolling. The truth was that this life was still just as foreign to him as the first day it started.

He sighed, "You can take the kid out of the Hellmouth...”

As he turned around and walked towards the kitchen, he began his nightly ritual and tossed his coat and briefcase on the steps leading upstairs. He groaned as he remembered it was his night to make dinner. With another loud sigh, he rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt and bent down to the lower cupboard below the sink to grab the spaghetti pot. He was too tired to make anything more complicated tonight. Plus, spaghetti was his speciality. Well, at least that’s what he used to boast to Dawn and Buffy years ago when he would cook at their house. And though they would always roll their eyes at him and mockingly agree, he knew that somewhere deep, deep, deep inside, they totally believed him. Besides, with the horrific crap Dawn used to invent for dinner, his spaghetti was virtually Italian crème brule to those girls.

"No", he muttered, "this is the life of the new, domesticated Xander Harris". He still wore the eye patch, which he considered the Hellmouthy version of a "Red Badge of Courage". Plus it also worked wonders intimidating the hell out of unruly employees. Take that away though, and the rest of him had become completely mundane. Short cropped business appropriate hair, laugh lines around the eyes, a slight paunch around the middle that he was totally planning on loosing sometime soon (you know, just as soon as he could find the time), and the most vile of all middle class inventions; a mortgage. All things considered though with regards to the stress and danger of his past life, he thought he looked pretty damn good for 34. Still, it's not easy for one to go from the adrenaline rush of saving the world from various demon hordes, to endlessly discussing promotion opportunities with fresh-out-of-college-ass-kissing subordinates.

He set the water on the stove to boil, grabbed the cutting board, and began to chop the onions for his sauce. He paused for a moment, because just like every other night he got home from work after a brutal day, and after wadding through his daily bitch-fest, he got to the favorite part of his inner-monologue. A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. You see, for all his said bitching and moaning, he knew that no matter how much he missed that world, or how much he wanted to stab something undead in the heart with pointy wood, he had much too great of a reason to never go back to being what the slayers in Scotland had dubbed, "Col. Xander Fury".

"Daddy?" was whispered softly down the steps.

And there, like a complete breath of fresh air, was his gorgeous, doe eyed, brown haired, slightly chubby in-a-completely-adorable-way-especially-when-she-wore-pigtails little precious of a reason for being a modern day Ward Beaver, instead of an ass-kicking warrior of the undead.

“The lord of the manor has returned!” he said with as much pompousness as his lungs would allow.

As he turned around and walked towards the front door, he heard the pitter-patter of little feet make their way down the steps as fast as a 4 year old could possibly go.

He got to the bottom of the steps just as his little girl launched herself like a missile into his waiting arms.

“Oh honey, daddy missed you so much today,” he said as he closed his eyes and squeezed his little girl tight. This was easily the greatest joy in his life.

“My names not honey, daddy!” she said with a giggle.

Xander pulled her away a bit so he could look her in the eye. “It’s not huh? Hmmm,” he said with a hand slowly rubbing his chin. “You know what; I plum forgot your name! How silly of me!”

“Guess!” she screamed out while almost jumping up and down out of his arms. This was one of her favorite games in the world.

“How about…Cinderella?” he said.

“Noooooo!”

“Mary Poppins?”

“uh-uh”

“Patty Mayonaise?”

“No daddy!” she said while shaking her head side to side like a paint tumbler, “What’s my name?”

“Snoop Doggy Dog?”

“No…Huh?” she said with a perplexed look.

“Never mind kiddo, a little before your time.” Xander knew he had to end this now or she could keep the questions up all night. All he needed was to remember the “Why, daddy?” incident of Labor Day, 2012 to know that this time, his sanity may not come back.

“Wait, I think it’s coming back to me. Is it C.J.?”

“No!”

“D.J.?”

“No!”

“M.J.?”

“Daaddddyyyy!” she whined to him. Now SHE was loosing her patience.

With apprehension on his face, he said, “Is it…A.J.?”

“Yaaaaaaaahhhhh!”, exploded from her mouth like she just found out she won a date with Sponge Bob. She hugged him tight again. “You’re so smart daddy!”

“Well honey, I have about 25 teachers and 7 ex-girlfriends that might disagree with you on that one.”

“I think it only matters what this little terror thinks.”

Xander looked up as Mrs. McGinty walked down the stairs. She was a neighbor from down the street who he had met when they first moved in. She was a great lady who exuded the stereotypical grandmother vibe. Unfortunately for her, her only son and grandchildren lived in Arizona, and didn’t make it back to the suburbs of Cleveland too often. Luckily for Xander, that meant that she was more than happy to spend time with A.J. and watch her whenever her parents ran late at work. A.J. simply adored her, which made everything that much easier to boot.

A grin appeared on his face. “You know what, you’re right Mrs. McGinty. Now, I just have to make sure it stays that way.” He turned back to his daughter with a mock serious look. “Now A.J., I want you to remember; no conversations with college graduates, fans of Kurosawa, or people who have won any money on Jeopardy.”

“Ok daddy.”

“That’s my girl.”

Mrs. McGinty smiled at them both. “We just got her washed up, so she should be ready to go right to bed once your dinner is finished.”

“Would you like to stay and eat with us, Mrs. McGinty?” Xander asked. A.J. chimed in with a raucous, “yes, please!”.

“No,” she said chuckling, “no I have to make sure my husband eats, or he’ll just end up wasting away on that recliner of his.”

“Ah, a man after my own heart.” Xander said whimsically as he moved to unlock and open the front door. “But we can still expect you on Saturday, right? You know Tosh is planning a huge blowout and would probably have some sort of meltdown if her entire guest list didn’t show.”

“Oh, we’ll be here, if I can somehow drag Herb away from the TV. Just make sure to remind her that I'm bringing the potato salad” she said as she slowly made her way out the front door.

“Will do. And thank you once again; I know how much of a handful the munchkin can be.” Xander said all the while tickling the little girl in his arms. Her peals of laughter were probably waking up the entire neighborhood.

“Oh, believe me when I say it’s the highlight of my day. Bye my little darling angel” she said as she began walking down the driveway.

“Bye Ms. McG!” A.J. was waiving enthusiastically as she screamed her little lungs out. Xander could only shake his head and shut the door quickly, hoping that the neighbors didn’t call the police….again.

“Well kiddo, you up for helping daddy make dinner tonight?” he said as they made their way back to the kitchen.

For the first time since he got home, A.J.’s cheery exterior vanished, and the typical whine of a 4 year old came through.

“Daaadddy, I just like to eat, not make fooood.”

Good thing for Xander, he and her mother had had years of practice handling her fits. He set her down on the counter, and bent down so he could be at her eye level.

“You really are your father’s daughter, aren’t you? Well kiddo, I tell you what. You help daddy make the salad, and I will wear the hat and do the Swedish Chef.”

Her eyes lit up once again, “Really? Ok!”

“You are so easy to please. I just wish your mother accepted my Swedish Chef impression on Valentine’s Day instead of that tennis bracelet daddy paid for with his “Browns season ticket fund.”

“Mommy is silly. Swedish Chef is my most favorite.” she said matter-of-factly.

“I know!” Xander said as he threw his hands up, glad someone finally agreed with him. “Everyone jumps on the Elmo bandwagon, Elmo this, Elmo that, when the Swedish Chef has been bringing it strong for almost 40 years! People think that he’s a one trick pony, and I say maybe, if that ponies name is “Awesome” and his rider’s name is “laugh machine”. Ugh, I guess everyone loves the flavor the week, but nobody really appreciates the classics anymore.”

“I do, daddy”

He would have appreciated the sentiment a lot more if his one ally wasn’t engrossed in playing with her bellybutton. He sighed good naturedly, “I know you do honey, and that’s why daddy loves you.”

­­­­­­­

10 minutes later found the pair working quietly. Xander had just wrapped up his dead on impression of the Swedish Chef, and was getting ready to take the spaghetti pot off the burner. A.J. was adding diabetic proportions of cheese and croutons to the salad, which was, as everyone knows, her go-to move. Xander was making the final preparations on his sauce when they both heard the back door open. A.J. scrambled down from the counter while yelling, “Mommy’s home!” She ran out of Xander’s eye line, towards the backdoor that opened up into the living room.

Xander let a quiet breath escape his lips. He loved his daughter more than life itself, but man-o-man could she be exhausting. He was thrilled Tosh was home so now she could occupy the little munchkin. That and she was hot and let him put his hands on her. There were very few women in the world that he could say that about.

“You’re not mommy.”

It was so quiet, Xander almost missed his little girls’ words. His legs buckled under him for a split second. Once the moment of abject fear passed, he sprinted into the living room.