Part 7

Hank was puttering around the house. It was usually an unusual occurrence for him, but he enjoyed playing Father again. It was the best decision he'd ever made when he'd decided to rekindle his relationship with Buffy. He was also happy that she seemed to be getting out a little more each day. It had definitely scared him at first; he had never known Buffy to be a quiet, almost feeble person, but when she first walked through his door, the way she looked around made her look so lost and helpless that it was completely the opposite of what Hank remembered. And he felt guilty for that. Something huge had happened to her, something that would effect her for the rest of her life and he hadn't been there for her.

But now he was.

Hank took a swig of his morning tea and sat down with the paper. Skimming over the front page, he flipped, as usual, to the business section. After checking some stocks and reports, he stopped. Why did he always do that? Was he that obsessed with his work? Yes, he thought with a sigh. There had been a time when family and friends had been his first priority, and now look: he hadn't seen his own daughter for nearly two years and had been the last to know that she was going to be a mother. He wondered in the back of his mind that if they had stayed close, Buffy never would have gotten pregnant. He knew it was an irrational thought but if they'd just talked more often…maybe she would have told him something… But they would never know.

He turned to the sports section, and a smile spread across his face. Here we go.

A knock sounded and, pausing reluctantly from his old-new-found bout of newspaper happiness, he went to answer it. And he nearly dropped his tea at the sight.

"Hello, Mr. Summers. May I come in?"

Hank hurriedly stepped back, straightening his clothes a little (or, as best as someone could do with tea). Don't look flustered! he ordered.

"I'm sorry to come by without warning but I didn't want to call you late last night so I though I'd take my chances."

"Oh, no," Hank said quickly. "It's quite all right. What can I do for you?"

"Nothing business. I actually just left my jacket in your office yesterday."

"Oh!" Hank nodded and ushered him upstairs. "Right this way…" His words died on his lips as they entered the room. Nothing there. "Um, are you sure you left it here?"

"I believe."

"Well, we have a maid who tends to pick things up. I would be happy to call her and ask."

"If it's not too much trouble."

"Oh, not at all. Will you excuse me for a moment?" Hank nodded to the other man, still a bit wary of him, and went down to another hall to another section of the house. He was all too eager to get away from Scrooge…er- the man who could ruin his company (and life) at any given moment. Needless to say, it was very nerve wracking having him around. He was definitely Scrooge-like. Scary, a little evil. Not someone you'd like to upset.

Scrooge glanced laxly around the expensively furnished office, wondering what kind of a man would devote so much time and energy into a company. He knew plenty about Hank Summers and knew that he lived alone at age fifty-three. Shouldn't he have some kind of a family? Here he was, living in this huge house, with no one to share anything with, no one to come home to after a long day.

It was ironic to be criticizing Hank when he himself lived largely the same way. But it didn't mean he didn't want a family. He did. He just…it just wouldn't work.

He wandered into the hall, trying to act like he was just casually looking around, when really he wanted to know more about how Hank lived his life. He seemed like a happy person, but how could anyone be in they were this lonely?

All the doors along this hall with open all the way, just inviting him to peek in. So he did. With quiet footsteps, the man made his way down the corridor and to the first door. It was furnished with various office furniture and had large windows overlooking the gardens. A private office, he assumed. Wouldn't want to be caught snooping around in there. The next room was entirely un-business related: it was basically a game room. It had all kinds of the newest, most high-tech electronics. He smirked a little to himself, finally discovering how Hank Summers got his kicks.

He passed two more room – one a library and one that looked very much like a trophy room, though he wasn't sure what for – and headed down the next hall right into his first closed door. Here's where the adrenaline kicked in. He couldn't believe he was doing this but it had all fit so perfectly: he hadn't even meant to forget his jacket and now, if he were caught, Hank would definitely think it was all on purpose. Just what he needed.

He opened the door, his curiosity taking over all rational thinking he might have been having. He had expected a tiny room with stacks of paper to the ceiling and tons of shredders, chomping away at documents Hank wanted gone. But that's not what was in this room. He found his jacket. It was lying on the bed, wrapped around the shoulders of a tiny blond girl. Her breaths were even but small, telling him she was asleep. The room that was obviously hers was huge and she looked almost miniscule in comparison.

He stared at the scene in blatant shock, not understanding what was going on. The lustrous splay of youthful, blond hair vividly contrasted the darkness of his jacket. The girl obviously lived here, and he surmised that she was Hank's daughter. Nowhere had he found any record that he had any children. How was that possible? The company had come up with everything on the man and somehow had missed the fact that he had an almost grown daughter? He needed to see it coming but now here he stood, shaken to the core, standing in front of someone's bed, someone he most definitely had seen before. It had been months but still the mere sight of her sent him spiraling dangerously out of control. He could see her face pressed gently to the pillow, her delicate features in a slightly worried frown; her eyes closed with a look of concentration. He felt himself break, his business front diminishing in an instant. If he hadn't been in Hank Summers' house he would have most certainly broken down. He hadn't seen… God, it really was her.

"Mr. O'Connor…?"

Angel spun around to see Hank Summers standing behind him.

"Can I help you with something here?" Hank asked, his voice hesitant and unsure. What was he doing outside of this door?

"I-I'm sorry. I…well, I thought…I went to…I was just…" Angel swallowed, and for the first time he felt unlike an equal or opponent but as a man, standing in front of another man, finally realizing who had more power. And he wasn't the one. Angel had definitely underestimated the full extent of Hank's authority until this moment. "I found my jacket."

Hank glanced past him into the bedroom. "What…?" He too stared at the girl in surprise, who lay curled up in a tight, almost frightened sleeping position. "I…well, I don't know what to say… I…" He blinked heavily, as if his eyes might be deceiving him at the sight before. Nope.

"Is this…is this your daughter?" Angel asked, trying to abate the feeling that he was shrinking.

"Yes," Hank said a little slowly, almost reluctantly to reveal the information. "She's visiting for a while."

"I…didn't know you had one." Angel's eyes drifted back to the girl on the bed.

Hank leaned over and silently shut the door before motioning shortly with his head. He took a shaky breath and faced Angel. "Mr. O'Connor, I have always made sure that my family is well taken care of. I have done a meticulous and careful job at hiding the fact that I have a daughter or ex-wife because of their safety. I don't need to tell you about the dangers they face. Our jobs take a toll on both us and the ones we care about. People sometimes take advantage of them to get what they want, and I don't want that for my daughter. I need to protect her. I hope you understand that." The two met each other's eyes, Hank's boring into Angel's, needing to see what kind of a man the younger one truly was.

"I understand."

"Good." Hank sighed a little and glanced back at the door, which concealed the most important thing to him. "I don't know why she had your jacket. Teenaged girls and leather, I suppose. I'll go in and get it."

"Don't," Angel said quickly. "I… you don't have to wake her up."

"Are you sure? I mean, you came all this way… I'll wake her up." The second Hank started for the door, he was stopped by a wall of a body, which had stepped in front of him.

"It's just a jacket," Angel said, his voice quiet.

Hank seemed to accept and be grateful for it so he stepped back and nodded. "Thank you. And I am sorry that you had to drive all the way out here."

"It's all right. I don't mind driving."

When the two men finally reached the front door, Hank was the one who extended his hand first, initiating the handshake. He noticed the other man's grip was not as confident, not as firm, and for the first time, Angel could had been caught looking shaken.