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Finding Father - The Mom Diaries

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Summary: Answering Challenge 305 - This story is set after Xander loses his eye, but before the fall of the First. A shoebox is the beginning. AU (Alternative Universe) - AT (Alternate Timelines) - Non-Cannon

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Multiple Crossings > Xander-Centered > Theme: Road Trip
Movies > Ghostbusters
Movies > Weird Science
Television > Sentinel, The
LilNezumiFR181028,50633433,94911 Jun 1024 Jun 10Yes

One Hopefully NO, One Definitely NO


  Chapter Three - One Hopefully NO, One Definitely NO


SHERMER, Illinois


Xander drove up to a slightly upper class house and wondered how the military guy could afford this.  He rang the bell and it was answered by a girl approaching her teens.  “Hi,” he said in a friendly manner.  “I’m looking for Mr. Donnelly, Mr. Chet Donnelly.”

“Daa-aaaa-aaadd,” the girl yelled into the house.  “Someone’s at the door looking for Uncle Chet.”

“Show them in,” a man’s voice echoed from inside the house.  “I’ll be right there,” was followed by the sound of pans falling and several curse words.

Xander pursed his lips to prevent himself from laughing and he stepped into the house once the girl opened the door wider in order to let him in. 

“Thank you,” he said.

“Whatever,” she said and took off up the stairs, as soon as she noticed a movement in the doorway were her father was supposedly coming from.  The man that stepped out was covered in dust or flour.  Xander couldn’t be sure, but the man looked friendly enough.

“What’s he done now?”  The man asked in a tone that clearly stated he was not pleased to hear about Chet Donnelly.

“I’m just looking for him,” Xander said.  “About twenty some odd years ago, my mother and a friend of hers crashed a party at this address.  They were into a free-love lifestyle and may have slept with your brother.”

“A party,” the man said.  He paused to think about it and then he had a reminiscent grin on his face.  “I remember.  I was about sixteen at the time, although it wasn’t my brother’s party it was mine.  Well mine and Gary’s, my best friend.”

“I came across my mom’s diary and some letters to a friend hers,” Xander said.  “It seems that your brother may have gotten lucky at the party.”

The man’s face squinched up and took on an ‘ooh gross’ appearance before it returned to normal.  “So why are you here?”

“I’m looking for Chet Donnelly because he might potentially be my biological father,” Xander said.  “I just need to know, where he is.”

“I see,” the man said.  “By the way my name is Wyatt.”  He held out his hand for Xander to shake it.  “As for my brother, well he’s posted here at the Shermer Air Base, but you might have to ask around.  Try the brig.  He’s usually in lock up for some reason or another.”

“He’s in this town?”

“Yes,” Wyatt said.  “He was transferred back here about a month ago.”

“Ah, so that’s why my friend couldn’t track him,” Xander said.  “I have someone on the inside, but your brother was difficult to locate.”

“Yeah, well the transfer might have been a prison transfer rather than a regular one,” Wyatt said. (...i...)  “I have the address in my office, why don’t I get it for you.”

“I’d appreciate it,” Xander said.  A few minutes later he was driving away with the address to the base and an old photograph of what the man looked like back when his mom might have been with him.

Mom,’ he thought.  ‘What the hell were you thinking?  This one looks way worse than that Robbie Gould guy.  This one actually looks like a bully.’

It took only about half an hour to find the base and another fifteen minutes to explain to the prison warden why he needed to see the Base’s infamous trouble maker.  The warden was understanding about the situation and chose to allow Xander the time and the access needed to get that information.

“Informed consent,” the man told him and allowed him into a private interrogation room with only the tools needed to collect the DNA.  “If he cooperates, have him sign this too, just in case it comes back to bite you in the ass.”

“Thank you sir,” Xander said.

A guard escorted him into the room where the prisoner would eventually show up.

Xander had a look around the room and then sat down at the side of the table usually where the lawyers or other investigators normally sat.  The clank of the door at the opposite side of the room had him looking up into the blues eyes of one seriously beefed up military man.  The guy had your standard military brush cut and was in a one piece prison jumper with the name “Donnelly” on the left front breast pocket.

Xander’s instincts were such that he instantly disliked the man’s manner of walking and the attitude he exuded.  He knew that this would either turn out well or else that man would twist him up like a pretzel before the guard even entered the room.

“Who’re you?”  The man said with a snorting hock and swallowing it with a loud gulp.

Xander only sat up and proceeded to explain about his mother and his mother’s friend.  He talked about the party and how this man might have ‘hooked up’ with them.

“Let me see if I get this straight,” the man said leaning on the table.  “You’re here because you think that we may be related biologically... Just because I happened to get lucky with some skank of a party crashing chick a few years back.”

“Yep,” Xander said.  He tried to keep his calm because this guy was just trying to push his buttons.

“What do you want from me?”  Chet asked leaning back in his chair.

“DNA samples,” Xander said, pulling out the one-time use comb and the cheek swab.  “I’m about to move overseas and have a need for closure about this.  The man that posed as my father got my mother killed.”

Chet leaned back in the chair balancing on the two back legs with practiced ease.  “I’ll have to think about it,” he said.  “Come back and see me tomorrow.”

“I can’t come back tomorrow because the warden only allowed me this one visit,” Xander said leaning forward.  “You know if you chose not do to this now, that I can’t come back.”

Chet grinned and barked out a laugh saying, “Yeah I know, I’m just yanking your chain.”  He paused wanting to do something else to stay out of the cells longer.  “Tell you what,” he said with a nasty gleam in his eyes.  “You do one hundred push-ups and I might give you what you want.”

Xander paused to look at the man and knew that he had more than a fair shot at beating him, so he suggested a wager.  “You do them with me,” he counter-offered.  “I beat you and you give me what I want.  You beat me and I’ll go ask your brother to let me have his DNA for comparison purposes.”

“Why didn’t you just do that in the first place?” Chet said with his eyes narrowing into furious slits.  He hated his brother.

“I don’t want second hand information,” Xander said.  “I needed to see and see for myself what kind of man you are.  So... what do you say?”

The guard outside the door had overheard the conversation and stepped into the room.  “You do this under supervision Private Donnelly,” he said.  “Sign the forms before you begin.”

“Forms,” Chet sneered.  “What fucking forms?”

“This one,” Xander said.  “Informed consent the warden said.  We’ll just add the line about the push-ups and a slot for the time.  Will you time us Sergeant Yi?”

Chet Donnelly signed the form and agreed that if Xander beat him in the one hundred push-up race he’d had over his DNA.  He moved the table and chairs to the side.  This wasn’t the first time that his had challenged someone in this manner and the base was quite used to it.

The Sergeant nodded and set up the stop watch feature on his Timex.  He looked and saw that both men were in position.  “Count it,” he said.  “NOW!”

“One, Sergeant,” Xander said. “Two Sergeant...

Chet followed with, “One asshole, two asshole...”

Xander kept a steady pace and once he was at eighty he sped up and surpassed Chet by two numbers, while the man was pumping and not paying that much attention.

Segeant Yi yelled, “Time 1 minute, 23 seconds, Xander, Chet 1 minute 26 seconds, Winner Xander Harris.” (...ii...)

The two men stood up.  They looked at one another.  Chet was judging what had just happened, while Xander was waiting for the man to make his mind about the DNA evidence.  The guard was on standby to see how the stockier man, Chet, would react to this news.

“Alright kid,” Chet said with a sigh.  “You win fair ‘n square.”  He combed through his short hair snagging a few and dropping it into the baggie.  He swabbed the inside of his cheek and then asked a question that none of the others asked for fear of offending Xander. 

“Hey before you go, tell why you’re wearing an eye-patch,” his look turned filthy when he said.  “It’s to pick chicks right.  Bet the ladies love that whole... “Pirates of the Caribbean” look you’ve got.  Come on you can tell old Chet the chicks dig it right?”

Xander packed up his things and then said, “Sorry, but it’s a necessity not an accessory to pick up chicks.”

“Oh yeah,” Chet said.  “Prove it.”

Xander lifted the patch from his left eye.  He had no problems or issues showing off the ‘war wound’ as his girls were fond of calling it.  The two other men in the room gasped at the sight of the wound.  They were shocked that someone so young would have something like that.

“It’s a bitch to drive with,” Xander said.  “However you’re right about some women thinking this is just a tool to pick them up.  They’re not too happy when they find out about the real reason for the eye-patch.”  He put it back in place, knocked on the door to be let out by the fourth guard, who was located at the door leading visitors out.

Chet couldn’t resist saying, “Bet you get laid a lot because that sympathy thing.”

Xander was just about out the door, but he held up the envelope with the DNA samples and asked, “Do you want to know?”

“Hell no,” Chet said as he was led back to his cell.

That was the most...ugh...,’ Xander thought.  He said his thanks to the Warden for the opportunity and obtained an officially stamped copy of the consent form.  ‘I hope to all the heavens and hells that he’s not the one.  It was bad enough knowing that Tony Harris was a dick, but this man has the potential for worse.’

“I need a shower,” Xander muttered getting into his car and heading to his motel room on the outskirts of the town.

He cleaned up and was about to fall asleep when his laptop pinged with mail from one of his girls.  He rubbed the sleepy feeling from his eye and open up the small device.  It was more useful than one of the larger models.

To: One-Eyed Xanman
From: Redwood Willowtree

Subject:  YouTube - Denounced Dissertation

Hey Xander,

I stumbled across this youtube video that I thought you might be interested in.  It took me some time, but I was finally able to continue a search for Naomi Sandburg and you know I’ll only send you the most promising ones.

Apparently son denounced his dissertation on individuals with hyper-active senses during a National Broadcast.  I checked it out, the man is a genius, but the way that this happened... well maybe you can ask him.  The Council knows about people like that, they’re called Watchmen or Sentinels, but we can’t give out that information.

You do know that we’re discovering strange groups all over the world that fight the Supernatural in their own way.  We getting some of the Slayers to hook up with them, but that’s not what this is about.  If this person really is Naomi Sandburg’s son, he might be able to get in touch with her and then you can find out more about your mom.

He’s living in Cascade Washington, which is on your way, not that I’m pushing, just saying.

Watch the video, it’s pretty interesting.

Love your


Xander sent off a quick thank you email to her, turned off the machine and went to sleep.

The next day he changed his plans a bit.  He was still heading to L.A. first, but would have one more stop before he headed to Castle Rock, Maine.  ‘There’s nothing wrong with checking out if this Blair Sandburg’s mother is the same as the one in the picture that I got from Dr. Spengler,’ he thought.  ‘At the very least, if she is the same, she should be told that my mom died.

He turned right onto the highway heading for...


WIPLOC’S BAR, Los Angeles


Xander watched the neon sign blink in colourful red, yellow and blue.  ‘What a strange name for a bar,’ he thought and then shrugged.  ‘It’s better than that Caritas place I stumbled across.  What the hell was Angel thinking, singing that song?  Luckily I left before he could see or sense that I was there.

He shuddered in sympathy for the poor massacred song called ‘I’m Your Man’ by Barry Manilow.  He never would have believed that Angel couldn’t sing.  Spike could and had done so often enough to drive him up the wall, but Buffy’s perfect Angel-man was not so perfect.

He then grinned mischievously because that would be perfect fodder for tormenting the older vampire, should he ever choose use this information in the future.  He couldn’t wait for some kind of reunion to unleash the terror of the un-tuned.

However this bar was vastly different.  It was high class and low class all intermingled with bodies bumping and grinding.  The lights were making him a little dizzy, but he made it to the bar without getting groped too much.  He didn’t mind it, but there were a couple of times that he could swear that the groper was another guy.  He didn’t allow for much contact from either sex so he didn’t need to think about it much.

At the bar the bartender and owner, one Wiploc, watched in curiosity as a one-eyed man sat down at the bar.  He was curious about the aura that he sensed from the man, but it wasn’t something that he had never sensed before.  At least his technology allowed him to do an analysis of people before they entered his dance bar.

“Tired,” he asked the man.  The man nodded.  “Drink?”

“Please,” Xander replied.  “Anything on tap will do.”

“You got it,” Wiploc said, getting the drink for the strange one-eyed man.  “You want anything else call for me, I own this bar.”

Xander lifted his head took a long good look at the person behind the bar and said, “Nope.”

“Yes,” Wiploc said.  “I’m Wiploc.”

“,” Xander said.  “That’s not what I meant.  You see I’m looking for my biological father.  My mom had names in her diary, one of which was yours, but there’s no way that you could be my father.”

“Why not,” Wiploc said.  He was slightly offended that this hu-man would immediately assume that he wasn’t his father, even though it was impossible for him to ever be a father with a hu-man.

Xander leaned forward and whispered, “You’re not human.”

Wiploc tilted his head to the other side and said, “George take over.  You come with me.”

He led Xander up to the owner’s office and motioned him to sit down.  He had to find out, “How do you know?”

“I’m not sure,” Xander said.  “I don’t mean to offend you, but I can sometimes just sense that non-human creatures are around.”

“I have aura detectors at the doors,” Wiploc said.  “I have noticed that sometimes there are other creatures that are not hu-mans, but they live or prey on the hu-mans that come to my bar.  You are better than an aura detector, would you like a job?”

“Sorry,” Xander said with a friendly regretful smile.  “I already have one waiting for me when I get to London, England.  I’m sorry to have taken up some of your time.”

“No worries,” Wiploc said.  “What did your Mom think of me?”

“Five out of Five stars,” Xander said.  “There was a strange notation about your tongue that I won’t get into, but... a-hem, I think that that was what she liked the best.”

Wiploc only nodded his head.  “Many hu-man females and males enjoy that part of our connections.  Do you want to join with my body tonight?”

Xander had a fairly good idea about what the creature was asking of him, but it was not something that he was interested in.  “It’s a good offer, but I will have to decline,” he said.  “I’m in mourning for a loved one that I recently lost.”

The alien nodded his head in understanding.  One of his best friends had lost his mate and was mourning the loss with the coupling ritual of honour.  He had learned not to offer such rituals to mourning hu-mans, unless the hu-mans were a part of their clan.  Their clan was getting bigger, but it took some time to get others from his planet to come to this one.  The communication was sporadic.

Wiploc led the one-eyed hu-man back down to the bar and sighed wistfully as the man left the bar.  “He would have been a fun one,” he said to George, the bartender that was looking at him.  “You want to join with my body later tonight.”

George immediately jumped at the chance and nodded.

Meanwhile Xander returned to his hotel room and made plans.

His next destination was...




(...i...) The prison transfer reference in relation to the military is completed made up and in no way reflects how such things actually take place.

(...ii...)  Whether it’s realistic or not, that’s the time that I wanted.
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