Title: Hank Summers, Dark-Hunter?
Author: Jmaria
Rating: FR-15
Disclaimer: Joss owns the dubious Mr. Summers, Kenyon owns all things Dark-Hunter, I own Sheyle.
Summary: Hank Summers isnt the worlds greatest parent, but just maybe he had a really good reason for running off to Spain

Hank Summers, Dark-Hunter?

Three: Not For Me
2001

"Grief is a phantom limb -"

"Sheyle, knock off the crappy platitudes," Henrik snapped, his eyes hidden behind the dark lens of the sunglasses.

He stared out at the graveside mass through the nearly-illegal tinted windows of the car Acheron had arranged for him. Henrik didn't even want to contemplate what his boss was gonna have to pay to Artemis for this little jurisdictional violation of his. But it wasn't everyday that a man's wife got buried. It wasn't every day a man got to see his baby girls grieving as if their world was gone. And it was. They were left alone with no one but their friends. None of Joyce's family had been able to come. They were too far flung and too wrapped up in their own grief to have made it back in time.

Sheyle had just come back from the graveside herself, having gone to give the girls her and his condolences. Buffy had just nodded, not really taking it in. Dawn had been so angry. Probably at him and God. Maybe a bit at Buffy, and definitely at the hospital for not curing her mother. Henrik couldn't say he didn't share three of those four sentiments himself.

"I told them I was their father's cousin's personal assistant. They didn't recognize the name," Sheyle said softly.

"Hank doesn't talk about our family often to the kids. Bad blood."

"Hank doesn't talk to his kids. You talk to his kids and pretend to be him. Where the hell is the loser? That's his wife being buried there," Sheyle muttered, leaning back in her seat.

"His ex. He left when things got rough. He's a bastard who can't be counted on by anyone."

"Sorry, boss, I didn't -"

"It's true. Hank Somners is a waste of a human being."

"Yup. He's lucky his daughters have you to step in for him."

Sheyle didn't ask him anything more, just settled in to keep a look out on the gravesite and Buffy who stood there alone. He didn't answer her, because he was fairly certain his girls wouldn't share the sentiment. So they sat and waited. Once the sun set, she pulled the car around behind the Crawley mausoleum and let him out.

"I'm gonna stick around and keep an eye on her. Maybe go keep her company."

"Do you need me to stick around boss?"

"No, sweetheart. Why don't you head back to the place Ash found for us. I'll be back before sunrise."

"You better, or it's my ass and you know how Otto would be if I fucked up royally my first test Stateside."

"Don't invite anyone in, okay, Shey?"

"Why?"

"Sheyle, just don't invite anyone in," Henrik squeezed her hand. "Get in and lock the doors behind yourself. Sunnydale is - dangerous."

"Sunnydale? Dangerous?" She scoffed.

"Sheyle."

"Fine! I'm headed straight there."

Henrik watched her pull away, and prayed she'd stay safe. She was the closest thing he had to family - besides his girls - and he didn't want to fail watching her back. Not when Ash was going through hell for him to sneak into town under the radar. Henrik was one of the very few who knew what the bitch Goddess put him through for his men. And that was only because Simi had slipped up and Ash hadn't been able to stop her from blurting it out in time.

Henrik shook his head and watched his girl - Buffy - from afar. She stood alone, but not for long. A tall dark haired man came to comfort her. They were there together for a good part of the night. And then he watched them drift apart and away. The man got into his car and she walked. He followed her home, tailing her at a distance, making sure no one bothered her.

And then he slipped back to Joyces grave. Henrik slipped the chain around his neck off. He couldn't stay, not for too long. Cemeteries held restless souls, eager to not be dead anymore and he was a viable, powerful host. So he dug quickly at the stone that bore his late wife's name. He pressed the ring to his lips before dropping both chain and ring into the small hole.

"Sorry I couldn't save you, Joycie," A tear rolled down his cheek.

You can't save everyone, Hunter, and I wasn't meant to be saved. Not really. The voice trickled over his ears, shocking him. Take your girl home. Sunnydale's not safe for Hunters and Squires, Hank. I appreciate the effort, but keep yourself safe. You've got a very important job ahead of you.

Henrik twirled around, looking for the voice and finding himself completely alone. He glanced at the spot above the gravestone. For a second he thought he saw Joyce.