Angel stumbled through the graveyard, clutching at his stomach. That...that thing that had attacked him...it was unlike any demon he'd ever faced before. It had blocked his punches and kicks easily and with an almost bored air, before lifting him up and flinging him around mercilessly. He had crashed into a tree, and a thick branch had plowed its way through his midriff, though luckily not his heart. He had managed to un-skewer himself, but was now finding it hard to get all the way home. Actually, in the hour or so since the attack, he was still in sight of the tree he had been impaled upon.
He reached the street and stepped out into it, feeling the weak rays of the rising sun sizzle on his face. Hurriedly he dragged the collar of his trench coat up partway around his face as he struggled to shamble across the black asphalt. Suddenly, his strength gave out, and he tumbled to the street, unconscious.
Hank Summers hummed quietly as he drove towards the home of his daughter and ex-wife. The straight, predictable patterns of the streets in Sunnydale were especially calming in the earliest hours of the morning, when the sun lightly tinted the dark sky. As he turned down a new road to drive past the cemetery, he shoved his foot down unexpectedly on the brake, skidding to a halt before he drove over the dark mass collapsed in the street. Scrambling out of the car, he turned over to find that it was a person, barely conscious and bleeding profusely. "Are you okay? Do you want me to take you to a hospital?" Hank asked quickly. The younger man shook his head violently. "Then do you want me to take you to my house? I could bandage your wounds there, and I'm sure my daughter and ex wouldn't mind if I explained about how I found you." The man nodded slowly, and looked at Hank, his eyes unfocused.
"Who...are you?" he managed to croak out.
"My name is Hank Summers," he said as he began to haul the younger man over to his car.
"Summers?" the man murmured quietly. Hank was surprised to find that this strange fellow relaxed significantly when he heard the name. As Hank slid him into the passenger side of his car, the young man passed out again and slumped against the car door, his dark brown hair ruffled slightly. He remained that way the entire drive.
Hank pulled up in front of the residence of Joyce Summers and strode nervously up the front walk. He knocked on the door and was answered by his daughter, Buffy Summers. "Hey, dad. What's going on?" she asked cheerfully.
"Buffy, is your mother home?" Hank asked.
"What is it, Hank?" asked Joyce, peering over her daughter's shoulder.
"I, er, found someone collapsed in the street earlier. I was wondering if he could stay here with you guys, seeing as I'm staying over already.
"Sure," Joyce replied. Hank nodded gratefully and turned back towards his car, Buffy and Joyce following.
When he opened the door to his car and dragged the man half-way out, Buffy yelped "Angel!" and reached out, easily pulling him the rest of the way out and supporting his weight.
"Buffy?" he asked, having semi regained consciousness. She nodded and began to carry him towards the house. Hank was a bit surprised that Buffy knew this man, and that she had so easily carried him when Hank had almost had to drag him. He followed Buffy and Joyce inside, where Buffy quickly lay Angel on the couch and closed the curtains on the windows so that no sunlight shone directly on him. Joyce stepped in next, overcoming her dislike for Angel in general in favour of helping him. She tugged off his trench coat, and Hank couldn't help whistling when the extent of Angel's injuries was revealed. Joyce raced around, grabbing towels, bandages, and anything else helpful that she could lay her hands on.
As his ex-wife raced around, Hank examined the man closely. His dark brown hair was cut fairly short, and he was basketball-player tall. He looked strong, and Hank wondered what exactly had hurt him so badly. When Joyce flipped him over to examine his back and wrap the bandages all the way around him, Hank saw a tattoo on one shoulder blade. Eventually, Joyce nudged Buffy up the stairs and told her to get ready for school. Joyce then sat down beside Hank. "So," he said. "Who is this kid? And how did he get hurt so badly?" Joyce looked at her hands.
"I think," she began. "that Buffy should be the one to tell you who he is. His name is Angel, though. And we don't really know how he got hurt, it could have been any number of things. Tell you what, you take Buffy to school and you can talk in the car." Hank nodded and stood up when she came down the stairs.
"Hey, kiddo, I'm gonna take you to school today. You mind?" he asked.
"Not at all, dad." Buffy replied. She followed her dad to his car and slid into the passenger side.
"So how's school going for you? You got any new friends? Boyfriend?" he asked cheerfully as they pulled out onto the street.
"It's going pretty well, and my best friend is a girl named Willow. But there's also Xander and Oz, and Amy and sometimes Cordelia." Hank nodded encouragingly, but Buffy didn't continue, so he asked another question.
"This guy I found, your mother said his name was Angel. You guys seem pretty close. Do you know what happened to him?"
"No, it's not really like anything else I've seen before. Um, dad? There's something I need to tell you. It's about me, but kind of about my friends too, because they know about it."
"What is it?" Hank asked, his voice full of concern.
"Okay, dad, this is gonna sound kind of wacko, but just hear me out. Um, I guess I should just blurt it out..." Buffy looked pensive, as though she were trying to figure out the best way to tell him something. "Dad, vampires are real." Hank stared at her.
" Are you sure you're feeling okay?" he asked her, putting a hand on her forehead.
"Yeah, dad, I'm fine. And it's true. Vampires are real. And it's my job to kill them." she explained.
"Kill them?" asked Hank.
"Yep. I'm the Slayer. I kill vampires, get rid of demons, keep the world from being sucked into Hell, you know. Stuff like that."
"Where do your friends come into this?" he asked.
"They all help me fight, but they each have to do it differently. Like, Xander and Cordelia usually research stuff, but there isn't much else that they can do, whereas Willow helps with spells, Oz is our wheels, Amy used to help Willow until she turned herself into a rat...and Angel helps me actually kill the bad guys."
"How could he do that any better than any of the others?" Hank asked curiously. However, his question wasn't answered because they had arrived at Buffy's school.
"Tell you later," she said, scrambling out of the car.
Later that afternoon, after Buffy got home from school, her father sat her down in a chair in the living room and stared at her for a moment. "Well?" he asked. "Tell me more about the Slayer thing."
"Lets see...well, originally there was only ever one Slayer. When one Slayer dies, the next is called. But I died once, only for a few minutes. I drowned and Xander brought me back. So Kendra, another Slayer was called. She died too, she was killed by a vampire named Drusilla, and Faith was called. Unfortunately, she went traitor, so now there's one Slayer on the side of most of the demons and vamps, and me with one good vamp and maybe five other creatures on my side, witches and werewolves and stuff. Basically, I just run around and fight demons and stuff."
"What kind of demons?" asked Hank.
"Well," said Buffy, eyes wide as she looked over his shoulder "Ones like that one."
Hank whirled around and gaped at the huge demon looming outside the doorway. It's entire, huge mass was covered in slick green scales, and it's horns were long, straight and sharp. It's eyes were yellowy and slitted, and it's four legs ended in sharp serrated talons.
Angel, who had been lying on the couch half-asleep, stood up shakily and had to be supported by Buffy to keep from falling over. Buffy pushed him back onto the couch and glared at him slightly.
"No. You're to badly hurt to be any help. Go upstairs, see if you can stay out of the sun." she commanded. Angel nodded and stumbled to his feet, moving towards thje stairs.
"Buffy, watch out. That's the thing that attacked me. It's strong. If it had thrown me a little higher, the branch it stuck me on would have hit my heart, and..." Angel fell over, and Hank rushed to support him, helping the vampire-with-a-soul up the stairs.
Buffy swung around to face the thing, quickly scanning the room for a weapon. Her eyes landed on her backpack, and she lunged for it, dragging a large knife out just as the creature roared and lashed out at her, grabbing her ankle. She cried out in pain as chipped claws pierced her flesh, and felt herself being bodily lifted the the creature's face. It growled at her threateningly, before gripping her torso in its jaws and swinging her around similar to the way wolves shake their prey. Buffy's vision and strength were fading fast, so she twisted her body painfully and shoved the blade of her knife into its flesh, between its eyes. She heard it lift its head and howl painfully, felt herself dropped roughly to the ground, and fell into unconciousness.