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Status: *WIP*
Category: Hurt, Angst, Angel POV.
Pairings: Joyce/Hank, Angel/Buffy, Xander/Anya
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Up to the end of Season Five to be safe.
Summary: A single event can cause you to question your actions in life.
Content Warning: Character deaths that were in the show.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of Joss Whedon, Warner Brothers, UPN and The Fox Network . This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognised characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Author's Notes: I wrote this because I've always been curious about the mysterious Hank Summers and I wanted to see a different perspective. Hope you like it!
Jump to April 22nd Update
He entered his house grateful to finally have arrived home. The business in Spain had been quite successful. He smiled as he remembered the client’s beautiful daughter with long sleek black hair, dark eyes and skin tinted by the sun. Yes, it was a very successful trip. Then he and his fiancée had taken a little trip across the border to France for a little holiday time. Thank God he hadn’t asked her to move in. At least he could enjoy what little bachelor time he had left in peace. Not that he wouldn’t enjoy it afterwards.
Leaving the suitcases by the door he went over to the small bar and poured himself a single malt whiskey, neat. Loosening the tie around his neck he opened the top few buttons of his shirt and slumped down on the chair closing his eyes as he pressed the play button on his answering machine.
“Dad? It’s Buffy. Look something’s happened. Mom’s,” she sighed and his eyes shot open her next words causing something akin to guilt to wash over him, “Mom’s dead Dad. We need you to come to Sunnydale. Dawn needs you.”
There was a sharp beep as the next message was played.
“Mr Summers? This is Rupert Giles I’m a friend of your daughters and your wi….er their mother. We’ve been trying to contact you for some time. I understand you’re away in Europe and seem to be unreachable. I thought I’d ring and tell you that the funeral is in a few days time and I hope you’ll be back in time. Goodbye.”
Hank’s grip tightened on the glass, who was this man who called himself a friend of his daughters? He vaguely remembered a brief mention of a librarian that summer the girl’s had come to stay with him in LA, perhaps it was the same man?
“Dad?” he froze at the hesitant voice, “If you’re there will you pick up, please?” there was silence for a few seconds and Dawn sighed, “I guess you’re still away somewhere, not really a surprise I guess. The funeral’s tomorrow if you care.” She sounded angry and he could imagine her slamming down the phone in annoyance.
So Joyce had died.
And she had won.
She never had come back.
He grabbed the car keys he’d so recently abandoned on the polished coffee table and left.
It was too warm. He opened his shirt a bit more and rolled up the sleeves. Buckling the seat belt he stared straight ahead his hands gripping the steering wheel.
Suddenly he found it hard to breathe.
Joyce was dead.
Oh God, Joyce was dead.
Joyce, the mother of his two girls, the only woman he’d loved enough to marry and actually wanted to have children with.
He remembered the first time he’d seen her. It was at college. He was studying business she art history.
She wasn’t his type, he was more of the brunette with a heavy rack guy but she had been the exception.
She was shy and quiet but with an energy and gentleness that seemed to surround her and those near her.
She’d been at the freshman prom on her own while he’d been with his then on/off girlfriend Hannah Martin. A stunning looking girl with a less then stunning personality.
Joyce was talking with a friend completely oblivious to him. Eventually he’d caught her eye and she smiled shyly at him until she suddenly looked away. He frowned until the slap Hannah had landed on him.
“What the hell was that for?”
She tapped her foot irritably. “You know what. Making eyes at one of the wallflowers!”
He rolled his eyes. “Hannah.”
She stormed off in a huff and he sighed. She wasn’t much of a loss really. Getting back to his task he watched the girl across the room and noticed her bag sitting beside her on the couch open and ready, he knew, to spill it’s contents onto the floor.
He wasn’t disappointed.
She twisted just a little and everything fell out of her purse. He noticed her frown in annoyance as he made his way towards her. She hunched down gathering what she could, cursing quietly to herself.
“Here, lemme help.” He gave her his best smile and she blushed.
“Thank you.” She whispered.
Close up she looked even prettier. Her dark eyes framed with perfectly arched eyebrows and her soft blonde hair, curling at the edges of her face. But the most enchanting thing to him was her mouth. It was soft and sweet but with a hint of such mischief and promise about it. He didn’t know how it was possible but she had captured him instantly.
She stood up and reached to take the items from him and he grinned at her. “Here ya go. Can I get you anything, drink or something to eat?”
She smiled and for a second he was dazzled. “Thanks, that’s really sweet…uh.”
“Hank, Hank Summers.” He held out his hand towards her. She looked at him hesitantly before shaking her head and taking it in her small, warm hand.
“I’m Joyce. Joyce Jones.”
“JJ.” He grinned at her and she blushed.
Hank shook himself from the daze and started the engine before backing out of the drive and onto the road. It had begun brilliantly and ended disastrously.
Having never been in a stable long-term relationship, he’d found it hard not to go after another pretty face and tall leggy brunette, but he’d tried for Joyce. Because he loved her.
He really did.
It was during the second year they’d been dating that he’d slipped. She was a friend of his sisters and she was gorgeous. Bright blue eyes, tall, curves in all the right places and dark hair flowing down her back in gentle waves. They were at a party, Joyce had gone home to her own family and wasn’t able to make it. There was drink and one thing had gradually lead to another.
He regretted it in the morning.
He could still see Joyce’s face pale and eyes dim when he’d told her, her hand wrapped tightly around the back of a chair until her knuckles turned white.
They’d broken up for three months.
But he’d been honest with her, he’d told her the truth and with a lot of begging and grovelling, boxes of chocolates and bouquets of flowers sent to her door she had eventually forgiven him although neither of them ever forgot. He couldn’t believe it, when she’d agreed to marry him, when he’d seen her walk down the aisle on the arm of her stern looking father. It was a image that would follow him to the grave.
Up until the last minute he’d expected her to come to her senses and run screaming for the hills. Not until the vicar had pronounced them man and wife had he dared believe it was real.
Then he’d let himself be lulled into a sense of security that she’d stay with him.
Forever.
He should have known it would all come crashing down sooner or later, especially since he started spending less and less time at home as the years went by. Buffy always getting into trouble didn’t help either. It seemed whenever he was home all he did was punish her for burning down the gym or getting into yet another fight with some girls in her school. Sometimes, even boys. Not that she could be blamed for his reluctance at spending time at home, and they all knew it.
Yeah, it began great but the end…. well, it had been…. less great.
“You can’t be serious!”
“Believe me I am.” She said determinedly folding a towel and putting it into the suitcase.
“Joyce come on. You know she meant nothing. I love you. You know that.” He said desperately racking his mind searching for a way to fix this.
“Don't!,” she said dangerously. He’d never seen her this angry before. “She meant nothing just like Tessa and…what was that blonde bimbo called? Oh yeah Candy.”
He paced the bedroom angrily and could feel his face getting warmer as his irritation grew.
“You can’t do this! I thought we had a good thing going here. You get to have a nice home and raise the girls without having to go out working. It was a slip Joyce, just a slip. It won't happen again.”
She turned cold dead eyes towards him. “You didn’t play by the rules.”
He paused and his eyes narrowed as he focused on her again. “She told you.” He hissed.
“How could you ask her to lie about something like that Hank?! How?” she shook her head vehemently. “You reached an all time new low Hank. I should have left you years ago.”
“How the hell was I to know Buffy would come to the office? She was meant to be at school!” he yelled.
“Don’t you dare shout at me Hank Summers! You were the one giving your secretary a good ‘once over’ in your office.” She snapped before her eyes widened and she held her hands to her face in amazement. “God, I can’t believe I actually thought you'd change, that you wouldn't mess around with the new secretary but you did and without even bothering to lock the door.” She laughed in disbelief.
“Well I wasn’t exactly expecting my daughter to drop by after being expelled from school! Again! The girl doesn’t need you mollycoddling her Joyce; she needs to learn a little responsibility and discipline! We should send her away somewhere.” He started pacing again trying desperately to change the subject. Joyce looked like she was serious and he wasn’t sure he could deal with it if she was.
“What?!” she shook her head and grimaced. “You won’t have to send my daughter away. We’re leaving anyway, we all are.” She slammed the top of the suitcase down and zipped it.
“You can’t take my daughters away from me!” he told her quietly.
“Oh come on Hank, it’s not as if you’re here that much with them anyway and you were just talking about sending Buffy away! It won’t make much of a difference to you.”
The muscle above his eye twitched dangerously and he sneered at her, shifting gears from defensive to offensive. “What are you going to do? How are you going to support yourself and the girls? You have no skills and no experience. You haven’t worked in over sixteen years. You couldn’t even afford to rent a bed sit for yourself never mind a house big enough for the three of you.”
“Well that’s where you’re wrong Hank, cos I already have.” Joyce smiled triumphantly at him and exited the room but he soon followed her down the stairs and into the living room where Buffy and Dawn sat on the couch, bags at their feet.
Grabbing Joyce’s arm he half dragged her into the kitchen.
“Mom?”
“It’s okay Buffy. Why don’t you girls wait for me out in the car.” Joyce tried to reassure her daughter while glaring at her soon to be ex-husband.
The door slammed closed behind them and Hank rested his hands on the back of a chair his brain working overtime. “How could you afford a house?” he asked her.
“We’re moving to Sunnydale, house prices seem to be lower then the rest of the country, I’m not sure why but between my income and your alimony and child support payments we’ll be just fine.”
“You got a job?”
She nodded. “In an art gallery.”
“You won’t last a month without me.” He hoped he looked a lot more confident then he felt. “You’ll be begging me to take you back.”
“No Hank, you won’t win this time.”
“I don’t believe this.” He hissed to himself. She’d done this without him. She’d arranged to have an entire new life without him. And he was scared she had the strength within her to do it.
“I don’t care whether you believe it or not Hank, we’re leaving.” She took off her ring and flung it onto the table, it’s tinny sound ringing loudly in the too quiet room. “At least now you won’t have to worry about you’re family walking in on you with your secretary. Not that you ever did.”
“Joyce, Joyce, please.” He grabbed her shoulders, careful not to hurt her. His heart was racing, this couldn't be happening. He loved her, he did. They didn't mean anything. He loved Joyce.
“I love you Joyce, I swear I do. I'll...I'll do anything, just don't leave me. Please.”
Her eyes teared but she closed them and dipped her head. “I know you do Hank, that's what makes it hurt all the more. We can't do this anymore Hank, it's not fair on the girls. All we ever seem to do is fight about, about you never being at home, or Buffy, or, or...well let's face it Hank we could argue about what day the milkman comes.” She looked up at him earnestly. “This is for the best. For all of us.”
He watched helplessly as she stepped back and with one final look at him, left banging the door behind her.
He thought he could still hear the slam echoing in his mind before he realised it was the cars behind him. Looking out the window he found the red light had turned green some time, probably a while ago and with a curse drove off.
Joyce had never come back to the house after that. He spoke to her rarely and saw her even less. The women he slept with became more common and less voluptuous, smaller and blonder but he drank enough that he didn’t have to ‘analyse’ it.
The highway loomed ahead and he snapped on the radio, anything to stop thinking but it didn’t seem to be working.
He remembered the first summer Buffy and Dawn had come to stay with him in LA. He’d arrived at their house in Rovello Drive, surprised at how nice it actually looked. Not that he’d tell her that.
He rang the doorbell and she’d opened it, and he scowled as he felt his heart lurch at the sight of her, but God she was beautiful.
“Joyce.”
“Hank.” She’d smiled tightly at him. “Girls you’re Dad’s here.” She yelled up the stairs. “Do you want to come in?” she asked stepping back. He cleared his throat and entered not venturing beyond the stairs. He didn’t want to see how great and perfect her life was without him.
“How’ve you been Joyce?”
“Fine, fine. And you?”
“Everything’s great. Business is going brilliantly, I just landed a big client last week.”
“That’s…great.”
They each looked away uncomfortably before what sounded like a herd of elephants drew his attention to the ceiling when Dawn came speeding down the stairs and threw herself into her father’s arms.
“Hey kiddo.” He grinned at her.
“Hey dad. Guess what?”
“What?” he asked crouching down beside her.
“I got an A in American History.” She told him proudly.
“That’s my girl.” He ruffled her hair and looked up at where Buffy was coming down at a more sedate pace.
He stood straightening, his heart pounding. She got more like her mother every day.
“Hi darling.” He held his arms open and tears filled her eyes as she rushed into them crushing him to her with that extraordinary strength she seemed to have.
“Well I guess we better get going if we want to make it back to LA before nightfall girls.”
He waited awkwardly while Joyce hugged and kissed each of the girls.
“I’m going to miss you.” She murmured to them.
“Miss you too.” They chorused and she grinned.
“See you in a few weeks girls.”
“Bye mom!” Dawn shouted out the window waving like mad as Joyce watched them drive away from sight.
That summer had been strange. Everything from the time they’d left had been strange. Coming back to a house that didn’t have a home cooked meal or a pleasant voice and pretty face asking him how his day was…well it was pretty sad. But being in the house with the girls and no Joyce was even stranger. It felt as if something was missing. And it was, he just didn’t want to admit it.
Shit.
Hank pulled off the highway. He’d take the long way down. He had too, he needed time to think.
He remembered that time in Buffy’s room, after they’d unpacked Dawn’s clothes and they were both going through Buffy’s suitcases. Joyce’s wry smile and raised eyebrows both embarrassed him and made him a little light hearted.
“Okay, then. This is the last of it.” He dragged another suitcase onto the bed and Joyce looked up at him sceptically.
“More clothes?”
“Oh, do shoes count as clothes?”
“How much shopping did you let them do?”
“Oh, I just thought I was saving you from the big back-to-school clothing nightmare.” He grimaced as he unzipped the case.
“My nightmares of Buffy in school have nothing to do with clothes. Did she manage to stay out of trouble in L.A.?”
“She did, yeah. She was, um... you know, great.”
“But?”
“She was just, I don't know, um... distant. Not brooding or sulking, just... there was no connection. Dawn was all chat, as usual, but Buffy…she just didn’t seem to be there. The more time we spent together, the more I felt like she was nowhere to be seen.”
“Hence the shoes?”
He handed her a pair of shoes and grinned at her. “I may have overcompensated a little bit.”
“Hmm.”
“It's so strange. You know, at least when she was burning stuff down I knew what to say.”
“Well, welcome to my world. I haven't been able to get through to her for so long. I'll just be happy if she makes it through the school year.”
“She wouldn’t tell you what’s wrong?”
Joyce shook her head. “She’s a teenage girl, most of our communication is done through arguing.”
“Ah.”
“Yeah.”
She was so happy and settled he couldn’t help but feel more relaxed with her. She didn’t ask about girlfriends and he didn’t ask about any boyfriends. It was a subject he had a feeling neither of them wanted to explore.
He could remember nine months later, being at the office when his secretary told him Joyce was on the phone.
“Joyce?”
“Hank?” Her voice sounded tense and worried.
“Joyce, what is it?” He sat up straighter a million different thoughts running through his head. Had something happened? Was she okay? Were the girls okay?
“I-is Buffy with you?” She asked hesitantly.
“Buffy? No, we agreed I was going to pick the girls up next Saturday. Why, what’s going on Joyce?”
She let out a shaky sigh and he could feel the niggling familiarity of panic prick the back of his neck.
“She’s gone Hank.”
He sat in shock, frozen in place.
“She ran away last night and I-I don’t know where she is or, or anything. I thought maybe she’d gone to see you.” She finished her voice cracking on the last word.
“Well have you called the police, her friends, school anything?” He yelled at her, not meaning to as the worry overwhelmed him.
“Of course I have.” She snapped before continuing in a quieter tone. “They haven’t seen her since last night and the police said it’s too early for her to be reported missing.” She finished bitterly.
“Right, right…um I’ll, I’ll be there soon.”
“No!”
“What?” he pressed the phone closer to his ear.
“What I mean is, she could be making her way to LA. She may try to contact you or be there soon, I, I don’t know Hank, I just…I just don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come traipsing down here when she could be on her way to you. Besides it’s not as if you could do anything down here.” She sighed tiredly and his voice grew quieter.
“Joyce, are you okay?”
“I just feel so helpless Hank. I thought we were making progress, I thought…I don’t know what I thought, but I didn’t think this would happen.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come down? How’s Dawn?”
“She’s upset, confused and she’s not the only one. She’s been a little off lately but there’s been nothing drastic. Thanks for offering to come by but I’ve got people around me here. Mr Giles’ is coming by this afternoon; I’m hoping he might have some light on this. Buffy looks up to him. She seems to spend all her time in that library.”
“I’ll head on home now and see if she turns up. The second she does I’ll call you, I promise.”
He was already shrugging on his blazer and searching for his car keys when she spoke.
“Thank you Hank, and if I hear anything from Buffy or, or anyone I’ll return the favour.”
“I’ll call you tonight. Bye Joyce.”
“Bye Hank.” The phone clicked off and he left the office stopping briefly by his new secretary’s desk.
“Vicki, I want you to cancel all meetings this afternoon and all nonessential calls. If there’s an emergency call my cell, or the house phone. Other then that I don’t want to be disturbed.”
“Is everything alright?” she asked, her forehead creased curiously.
“Not really, no. I’m bringing the Mc Alistair account home with me.”
“Ok. Will you be in tomorrow Mr Summer’s?”
“Er, I’m not entirely sure yet. Just…reschedule any meetings ok?”
He raced out of his office building and drove back to the house as fast as he could. Turning the key in the lock he called out her name.
“Buffy! Are you here?”
He was hoping her head would pop from around a corner or he’d see her sitting in front of the TV a bowl of ice cream on her lap, having let herself in with the spare key. Instead all that was in the house was silence.
He sighed slumping down in the nearby armchair, hoping Joyce was right and she’d be there soon.
Of course she never came.
That summer had been one of anger and worry. He was so angry at her for running away, furious that she’d put her mother and himself through all this pain. But he was always incredibly worried for her. Sometimes he’d go to a restaurant or a bar and see a girl the same height or with the same hair as her and for a second his heart would tighten with the possibility that he had found her. Every time the phone rang his heart would race as that part of his brain would question if this was it. Was this the call from the police saying they found her body in a ditch somewhere? And while he held out hope that she’d either come to him or end up at home safely, that thought would always, no matter how briefly, brush his mind.
It was just after the return to school that he got the call from Joyce to tell him she’d arrived home. There was something different about the way she spoke, the way she talked about Buffy and her recent disappearance.
“I’ll be down tomorrow,” he’d said determinedly, “I’ll see what she has to say for herself.” The adrenaline rushed through his body as he thought with relief and anger that she had at last arrived home, seemingly none the worse for wear.
“I…don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
He started at her suggestion.
“Not a good idea?! Joyce does she have any idea what she put us through? That girl has been nothing but trouble. Perhaps it’s best if she is sent away somewhere.”
“She’s not going anywhere Hank!” Joyce ground out. “She’s my daughter and I won’t have her sent away. Besides, has it ever entered you thick skull that there was a reason she left? That there was something worrying her, and that maybe she didn’t tell either of us because she was afraid of how we’d react? I’d guess the reason she didn’t go to you when she was in LA was because she knew what a temper you had!”
There was silence on the line for a few minutes before he heard Joyce sigh on the other end, “Hank, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, not like that. I just don’t think it’s a good idea at the moment. She’s still a little fragile and at the moment I think it’s best if there’s no confrontation.”
Hank swallowed hard at the lump in his throat, “Okay, Joyce,” he said hoarsely, “we’ll do it your way.”
“Thank you, Hank. I appreciate it.”
“No problem, keep in touch.”
“I will,” she promised before he heard the click of the phone put down.
He hadn’t kept in contact much after that. The thought that his children didn’t feel confident enough to trust him with their problems, to come to him when they needed help troubled him greatly. Perhaps they were better off without him.
It was that doubt and niggling confusion at the back of his mind that allowed him to accept the position in the Milan branch of the company when it was offered to him. It was a promotion, better job, better pay, better office. He accepted without even talking to Joyce, he probably should have done that.
She had been pretty much quiet when he’d told her on the phone. He’d brought the girls to LA with him the weekend before he was due to leave. Buffy was quiet, but seemed to have a resigned air about her. Dawn was a different story, she was sad, angry and glared accusingly at him.
“You’re just going to go, aren’t you?” She said censure, lacing her voice.
She’d caught him unawares in the kitchen, at three thirty in the morning. He turned quickly in surprise and saw her standing there, a petite figure of anger and hurt.
“Yeah, Dawn, I am.”
“Why?” Tears brimmed her big eyes, as she sat at the counter, her fists clenched tightly at her side.
“It’s a great opportunity, honey. I’d never get a promotion like this if I stayed in LA, it just wouldn’t happen. It’s not as if I’ll be disappearing off the face of the earth! I’ll be in Europe, a plane ride away.
“Yeah, a ten hour plane ride away!”
“Come on Dawny, don’t be like that. You know you’re my little princess,” he hugged her tightly, attempting to elicit a smile from her, “besides, I’ll be sure to send you only the best presents from Milan. I understand it’s the main place to be for fashion.”
“You’d better,” she replied grudgingly. He regarded her fondly, she was so different from Buffy, so bubbly and lively, her temper could be ignited in a split second, and just as quickly it would be gone.
“There’s nothing I can say that will make you stay, is there?”
“No.”
She nodded, thinking over what he’d said, weighing her options.
“Then, I guess there’s nothing else to say.”
“Aw, Dawn, don’t be like that. You know I’d stay here if I could.”
She shook her head but said nothing. “I’m going to bed, see you later Dad.”
“Bye Dawn.”
To this day, he could still remember Dawn’s face, so devoid of any emotion as he’d left them for the final time before he left for Italy. He could make no excuses for not having kept in contact with them. He could say that the time difference had a major effect, that being ten hours ahead of them meant they were always at opposite ends of the day, but that would be a lie. He could say that he believed it would be best that they weren’t near his influence or his temper, while this was partly true, it was, for the most part a lie.
The truth was he was a coward. He didn’t want to face them, to see the recriminating looks in their faces. Buffy hardly spoke to him as it was, she’d never see him again in the same light as she had when she was a young girl, with nothing but happiness and joy shining in her eyes. He didn’t want to see that gone from Dawn, and he knew he would. She still thought he was a king when he’d left LA, still considered him the sun, moon and stars. He didn’t want that all to disappear with her as well. He didn’t want to see it happen in any case. She’d grow indifferent of him if he were there, at least if he was on the other side of the world, he wouldn’t have to see it grow in her. That’s what he told himself, what he convinced himself to be true. He refused to listen to the voice in his head that told him it wasn’t.
Sooner than he expected he found himself in Sunnydale. It had changed little since the last time he’d been there, years before. Rodeo Drive, still the sunny, tree-lined street it had always been. Nothing looked any different. There was nothing around to proclaim that one of the best women to ever live on this Earth, had suddenly departed it. Leaving sorrow and grief behind her.
He sat in his car for a few moments, staring at the house where his daughters now lived alone. He wondered what they were doing now, how they were getting on at school. It was ridiculous really. Joyce had updated him every once in a while on what they were doing, who Buffy was going out with, what teacher Dawn was fighting with.
He wondered about what they were going to do now, how Buffy and Dawn were going to survive without her. Dawn was still a child, she still had so much ahead of her, so much that Joyce was going to miss out on. There were proms, boyfriends, the SAT's. How would she be able to get through the rest of those difficult teenage years without her mother? Dawn had always been less of a handful than her sister, she was a naturally good girl, always wanting to do the right thing, to please her parents. She could never understand Buffy's desire to cause trouble, and he hand to admit neither could he. He loved Buffy, dearly, but Dawn had been the one he could relate to more easily, he just didn't seem to have the knack that Joyce seemed to posess to get through to her.
Buffy. How would she be able to get through without her mother? She always relied on Joyce, and now she was left alone with a young sister and no real support. Buffy was still a very young woman, how would they both cope without their mother? The thought worried him as he made his way from the car.
He stood at the door, his hand hesitating before knocking. He was nervous, sick, he couldn’t remember the last time his stomach felt this bad with nerves. It seemed like forever before the door was finally opened. But not by anybody he knew.
“Hi, I’m sorry to disturb you but-”
She rolled her eyes, sighing in frustration, before plastering a falsely bright smile on her face, “whatever you’re selling, we don’t want it. Okay, thanks.”
She went to close the door and he quickly stuck his foot in the door, preventing her from closing it. She yanked the door angrily, her wavy blonde hair bouncing.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, her hands settled on her hips.
“I’m not selling anything,” he said through gritted teeth, “I’m looking for Buffy and Dawn Summers.”
“Oh,” she frowned as she looked at him, her eyes narrowing, “they’re not really seeing anyone at the moment.”
“They’ll see me.”
“I don’t like your attitude, Mister!”
“Let me speak to them at once!” he demanded, his ire rising again, “I’m their father!”
Her blue eyes widened in shock, and she stepped back, “oh, oh, well, I suppose you’d better...come in then.”
He stepped into the house, familiar with the old family photographs he remembered, and still some he didn’t recognise. Pictures of Dawn and Buffy as they were now, older, prettier and more confident looking.
The blonde haired woman lead him into the sitting room, the false smile back once again, “wait here a minute, please.”
She left and he looked around the room. He didn’t think it had changed at all since the last time he’d been there. Even the same rug lay over the back of the couch. He walked towards the fireplace, a set of pictures sitting on top of it. One in particular grabbed his attention. In it, Joyce sat on the garden seat, Buffy and Dawn sitting on either side of her, with their arms around her, heads resting closely together. There was something so carefree and warm about their expressions. Their smiles making his heart ache. He felt the familiar stab of guilt shoot through him, wondering what he’d done, what he’d missed since he made that decision to loosen the ties between them.
“Dad.”
He spun around, and came face to face with his eldest daughter. Her hair was tied back severely and arms were wrapped around her waist protectively.
“Buffy,” he stepped forward to hug her, but something in the way she looked at him stopped him. her eyes were cold, like pieces of ice as she stared at him, “I, I came as soon as I heard. I’m so sorry, darling.”
“Sorry,” she repeated, her voice devoid of emotion, “is that it? That what you came all the way down here to say!”
“Honey, please. I just got back from Europe, if I’d been in LA, I would have been down here as soon as possible.”
“Oh, please,” she closed her eyes, rubbing her forehead wearily, “I really don’t need this. There was no need to come down here Dad, you could have just called. Saved us all a lot of hassle.”
“Buffy, I am your father. I’m here for you.”
“My father!” she looked like she was about to explode, her eyes wide and her jaw throbbing dangerously, “is that what you call yourself? You’re not my father. You haven’t been for a long time. We haven’t seen you since you left for your big powered job in Europe, and to be quite frank Dad, I’d be perfectly happy never to see you again.”
“You don’t mean that,” he said, attempting to keep his own anger in check. Didn’t she realise she wasn’t the only one hurting? Didn’t she know he missed Joyce too? That he had loved her too?
“Oh, I do,” her voice was so cold it made him freeze, “and I want you gone before Dawn knows you’re here.”
He sat down on the couch, and carefully unbuttoned his jacket, before meeting her gaze again.
“Dawn’s part of the reason why I’m here.”
“What do you mean?” her eyes looked sharply at him and he returned her gaze coolly. It was from him she’d inherited her cool exterior after all.
“You’re a young woman, Buffy, barely legal. You can’t be expected to look after your sister alone.”
“What?” her shock made her sit down on one of the armchairs and she stared at him, her eyes wide huge looking in her pale face.
“I want to take Dawn back to LA. I’m her father, Buffy and I’m better equipped to look after her. I’ve a decent job and a house with a decent garden and pool. She’d be well looked after and you wouldn’t have to worry about her. You could concentrate on your career, on getting back into college and living your life.”
“Are you serious? Are you actually suggesting I let you take my sister away from me? Are you mad? I’m not letting you take her. She’s my sister and this is her home. You haven’t been part of her life for a long time Dad, you can’t just waltz in and pick up where you left off!”
“That’s not what I’m doing, Buffy. I’m trying to do what’s best for both of you!”
“You don’t know what’s best for either of us! You haven’t been here to know what’s best for us!”
He stood up in frustration, raking a hand through his greying hair, “Buffy, I know you’re hurting, and I know you’re upset but…you have to think about this rationally. How are you going to support both of you? Flipping burgers? You make barely enough to do the shopping and pay the electricity bills. What about the other household bills, insurance payments… you can’t do this alone, Buffy. Like it or not, I’m your father and it’s my job to make sure that both you and your sister and provided for and have the best possible care necessary. I don’t think Dawn’s really going to get this here, do you?”
“That’s where you’re wrong. You may be her father, but you’re not her family. We are.”
“We?” he sneered, his face wrinkling in disgust, “who’s we? You mean that, that crazy-assed woman who opened the door?”
“Her name is Anya. She’s a little abrupt but she’s a good person, with a good heart, and she cares about Dawn very much.”
“Look, Buffy, I’m not going to cause any trouble. I love you. I love you both very much. And if you won’t believe that…well, that’s your decision, but I want to think about Dawn, about what’s best for her. If you, if you decide it’s best she stays here, then I…I’ll abide by your decision.”
Buffy considered him warily, “you promise?”
“If you promise to seriously consider my proposition.”
She nodded sharply, averting her eyes for a moment before holding out her hand to him and meeting his gaze again, “It’s a deal.”
He stared down at her small, bony hand and enveloped it in his own, shaking it gently. While she was still unawares, he pulled her towards him and hugged her roughly. For a moment he felt her relax in his touch, her arms tightening around his frame, clinging to him. he kissed the top of her head and she pulled back, immediately turning her back to him, but not before he could see the tears in her eyes.
“I think you should go now,” she said shakily.
He nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat, “Okay, I’ll be back soon.”
Her unmoving figure was the only answer he received.
To Be Continued.....
© 2004, 2005 Copyright held by the author.
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