Hank

By "Painbow"

Summary: Buffy's dad returns; S6, post DoubleMeat Palace

Disclaimer: I don't own Hank or Buffy or Spike (::sob::) or Dawn. Actually, I don't own any of the characters…yet! Mwahahaha! ::ahem::


Chapter 2

Hank stared down at the tombstone of his late ex-wife. When Buffy had said they were going to visit Joyce he had assumed they were going to the hospital. He had also assumed that the grim look on his eldest's face was because of his long absence, not his ignorance of Joyce's true condition.

How could he have known?

Well, if you hadn't been so busy in Spain... a treacherous little voice began. He pushed it out of his thoughts. That wasn't important. He couldn't change the past. He wasn't sure if he wanted to. Well, he did wish that he'd responded to the message regarding Joyce's illness a little sooner...but back on subject.

His ex wife was dead. It pained him to look at the granite stone marking her resting place. Even thought they had split on bad terms, Hank had never hated Joyce. Not really. There were times during the divorce that he wanted to jump across the mediation table and strangle her, but he realized now that even when he had been angry with her, he had never truly hated her. He couldn't. In the last five years he hadn't really given her or his girls more then a passing thought. Too busy having fun, living the middle-aged stereotype. He felt a flash of guilt. Living it up in Spain while Joyce had been dying. He was an ass.

Well, now it was time to stop acting like he hadn't aged since twenty. It was time to actually be a figure in his girl's lives. It looked like things were not going well at all.

Both Dawn and Buffy looked thin...much thinner then when he had last seen them. Buffy in particular looked like she hadn't been eating much. Of course, some of that could be due to the weary look in her eyes. There were dark circles on Buffy's face that hadn't been there the last time he'd seen her. She looked like she'd had to do some growing up. Fast.

Dawnie...well, she looked lonely and sad and angry. She also looked confused, which he'd heard was the normal state for a teenager, so he wasn't as worried about that.

And besides their emotional and physical state, there was the financial. Buffy, from what he'd managed to ferret out of her, was working at the Doublemeat Palace to make ends meet. A friend of hers was living with them and contributing to some of the bills, but Hank knew it wasn't enough.

He could only hope that his girls would let him help with their problems. Well, it was obvious they didn't have a lot of choices. They'd accept his help, no problem.

Hank felt better. The small monkey that had perched on his back for the last few years was gone. He was finally doing the right thing, and from the looks of it he was just in time.


Dawn fumed in the car. Her dad had just stared at her mom's grave, open mouthed, like some stupid fish. No words, no tears, just an open mouth. Years of marriage and years of looking after things and all her mom got was an open mouth. Bastard.

Well, Dawn knew exactly how to handle this situation. Hank's wallet just had to be full of money. She'd take what she could find, give it to Buffy slowly, so as not to arouse suspicion, and then they could kick the bastard out. Leave him like he had left them, so many years ago.

Hell, she didn't owe the guy anything. He wasn't really her father, mystical, glowy key and all. For as long as she'd really been alive and human, he hadn't been around. As far as she was concerned, Hank was just some guy who hurt her family and left, like Ted. Not her father. She didn't have a father.

Buffy fumed, much like her sister. Her fuming, however, was far less coherent. There were no plans, no answers, just a litany: Why is he back? How could he come back? How could he leave in the first place? What the HELL is he doing here? Does he think he can just waltz back into our lives? Why didn't he come back sooner... It played over and over in her head, making her crazy and causing her arms to cross tighter and tighter across her chest.

The drive home was made in silence.


Awkward. That was the only word running through Hank Summer's head. Awkward.

He hadn't expected his return to be easy by any stretch, but, well...was it too much to ask that his girls be a little excited that he was home? Neither one had spoken to him any more then was absolutely necessary. So he hung around, trying to make conversation, and being generally...awkward.

Since things were so uncomfortable, he decided to make himself useful. Once they returned home, he started cleaning the house, re-organizing everything. He thought this would make the girls happy, but Buffy hadn't even noticed and Dawn had glared at him, mumbling something under her breath that sounded remarkably like, "Mom never did it that way."

Cleaning a failure, Hank decided to cook some Spanish food that Sherri, his ex girlfriend, had taught him, while they'd been in Spain together. The meal had not been spectacularly difficult, but neither daughter did more then pick at it listlessly (in Buffy's case) or angrily (in Dawn's). Was it too much to expect them to pretend to like it? He was trying...he just didn't know what to do.

Hank motioned for the girls to eat. The food was good...he knew it was good and he didn't want it to go to waste. He wanted his girls to start eating properly again.

Dawn glared at him, eyes flashing as he tried to smile at her like a father would, or like he hoped a father would. It had been so long...

Apparently too long, as his Dawnie had jumped up from the table and stormed out of the kitchen. He heard her feet thumping as she ran up the stairs. He winced when he heard the door slam.

Hank sighed at his plate. "I guess Dawnie just doesn't like Spanish food." He smiled weakly, trying to turn the comment into a weak joke. He looked up at Buffy, trying to gauge her reaction to both Dawn's outburst and his attempt at humor.

His eldest sat in her seat, perfectly still, staring at her plate. She hadn't even noticed the scene Dawn had made. Hank frowned. "Buffy?" His daughter continued to stare at her food, barely even blinking.

Hank studied Buffy, looking for some physical reason for her daze. Was she be using drugs? What else could possibly depress the perky daughter he had once known?

A noise at the kitchen door interrupted Hank's thoughts, and he looked up to see a cute red head walk in. This must be Willow, he thought. He hadn't had a chance to meet his daughter's friend yet. Actually, he wasn't even sure if Willow knew he was here. Buffy had mentioned that she was living with them, but not much else.

But, damn, wasn't she cute...he shook his head. No more of that. Time was he would have been all over Willow in a second, and would have had a fairly good chance of landing her too, but now it was time to focus on his family.

Willow stopped when she saw him, a look of confusion and vague recognition on her face. "Mr. Summers?" she asked.

Hank stood up, big, welcoming smile plastered on his face. "Hello Willow, nice to meet you. Yes, I am Mr. Summers, though I'd rather you called me Hank." He flashed her another winning smile and held out his hand.

Willow continued to look confused and then stared at the proffered hand. He mouth tightened. "We thought you were in Spain," she said, a trifle coldly.

He pulled his hand back a bit, trying to make it look like he was reaching for something in his pocket. "Well, I was." He tried to keep the grin on his face and put Willow at ease. He really wanted to get along with Buffy's friends. "If you want I can show you some pictures later. Spain is really beautiful. Or I can teach you how to make some Spanish food that Sherri taught me..." Oh, for the love of...stop babbling, Hank!

Willow's lips tightened further and she crossed her arms in front of her chest. She glared at Hank for a few more seconds before turning to Buffy. "Hey, Buf? You gotta get going or you'll be late for work."

Buffy jerked out of her daze and looked up at Hank and Willow. "Hmm? Oh, right...work."

Willow sighed worriedly and left the kitchen, heading up stairs. Hank watched as his daughter's gaze returned to the food in front of her.

"Buffy...sweetie? Umm...are you ok?" He surreptitiously checked for needle marks.

Buffy looked up at that, eyes finally showing some emotion. Hank took and involuntary step back. She let out a short, humorless laugh. "Fine daddy. I have to go to work."

She got up and left Hank standing in the kitchen, surrounded by the remains of dinner. He looked around the room. "I'll just clean up then," he said, to no one in particular.