A/N: I've just updated this story with the current version from . If your following the story, I'd recommend starting over or at least skimming the chapters you've read. I've split the chapters into past and present to help it track better and made some tweaks. Sorry for the inconvenience. Some materials may have been shifted between chapters.

Chapter 4 - Hank Summers

June 2nd, 2001 – 1400 Hours

PAST - SEVEN HOURS AFTER BUFFY'S DEATH

Cheyenne Mountain Complex – Conference Room

"George! It's good to see you old friend" Hank Summers exclaimed as he shook Hammond's hand.

"It's been awhile Hank." Hammond agreed "How is everything? Joyce, the kids? Last time I saw the little ones they were only knee high. Buffy's got to be a grown woman by now."

Hank held his smile with a practiced ease. The last thing he wanted to do right now was a conversation about his family. There was plenty of blame to go around, but far too much could be laid at his own feet. Far too much that there was no taking back. "They're good." He guessed. "So, what's going on George?"

Hammond nodded "To business then. Hank, this is Major Carter, one of our more accomplished scientist here at the SGC. I know you're still trying to play catch up on on the day to day of our operations, but earlier we … Major Carter, detected an energy burst. For whatever reasons we've been ordered to keep clear off the location."

"Where?"

Hammond: "Sunnydale, California. Any light you can shed on what's going on there?"

Hank: "Sunnydale huh? Maybe a little, I don't know specifics but there was some kind of op going on there recently. Pretty hush hush though, even in my circles."

Hammond: "I see. Major Carter, can you please explain what you found."

"Yes sir"

"In english, Major."

"Of course sir" Sam flushed "A little over seven hours ago …"

2 DAYS LATER

Sunnydale, California – 1630 Revello Drive

Hank pulled towards the curb, his rental rolling to a halt after the short, nerve wracking trip from the local Airport. It'd been years since he visited this quiet town of nearly thirty thousand.

Too long … far too long.

He wanted to blame his failings as a father on the situation, Joyce, his work in the NID. The pressures from a job where the slightest of slips meant people dead or national secrets lost. It was a simple lie he told himself to rationalize his regrets. The less appealing truth neatly compartmentalized away.

His mind flashed to his preferred understanding of events. That Buffy's behavior had been the sole catalyst of his family's implosion. He'd failed to adapt, failed to address problems that at the time only seemed to get worse with each passing day.

His own behavior and performance at work had begun to suffer from the stress. Joyce had been so preoccupied with Buffy or Dawn and soon his wandering eye had caught a pretty face he couldn't seem to shake. One thing led to another and for a while, his life seemed under control.

All he'd succeeded in was adding another layer of troubles to an already complex family situation. Joyce being Joyce, missed very little, confronting him about his inability to keep it in his pants. The family he'd built which had once been so close lived on the knife's edge of divorce for months. Joyce's forgiveness only as genuine as the bitter words she spoke them with.

The breaking point, the day a policeman knocked on their front door. The day everything started to come crashing down piece by piece. He still remembered that day, his fury. The accusation that their daughter had burned down a gym. His fight with Joyce was so loud it took the woman half a day to get Dawn to come out of her room while he'd scoured the town. Checking every friends house, every mall, every last one of Buffy's haunts. Seething and ready to give his daughter the lesson of a lifetime. Only, there was no daughter to be found, not the one he owed a beating. He'd always thought of himself as a well restrained man. His work demanded a level head, calm decision making in a crisis.

But a stern talking to and a grounding was insufficient to cover the balance of discipline owed. Not this time, not after what she'd done. Buffy's ever increasing behavioral problems. The pile of letters documenting her lackluster performance in school, the fights. All the bruises she failed to hide. Buffy's radical shift in personality, from Daddy's little princess to that of a rebellious brat. The knee jerk response of heavy handed parenting only making matters worse. Now she had the gaul to hide, running away in an attempt to avoid the punishment that in his opinion, and even Joyce's for once, was sorely needed.

But even after days, his daughter was nowhere to be found.

Surprisingly, Buffy's disappearance had momentarily seemed to patch the wounds in his marriage. Both parents so worried about their daughter that fighting each other ranked too low on their priorities to even bother.

When their wayward daughter had finally returned, her rebellious attitude was gone, replaced with tears and a thousand yard gaze. A look he'd seen before, it was a sobering thing to see in his fifteen year old daughter. When they'd settled down enough to talk to Buffy the sobbing pleas and the story that finally slipped from her mouth had been ridiculous. So terrified to face the consequences of her own actions that her mind had cracked, looking to myths and legends to rationalize her own actions. Their daughter had been beyond what help they could give her.

Vampires

He loathed the word and all it had cost him. Looking back, it was the final Buffy-shaped nail in the coffin of his marriage. They'd argued about what to do, for days they'd fought, but in the end a tearful Joyce had finally relented.

The car ride 'to talk' away from the prying ears of the ever curious littlest Summers worked perfectly. He'd always had a weak spot for his daughters, ever father did. But Buffy had a natural way with her expressions, able to crush his resolve with an eyebrow or well timed pout. The betrayal written on her face the instant she realized what exactly had been planned haunted him to this day. Four men and a sedative later she was gone, along with the last of her trust in them.

The weeks that had followed were hard on everyone. Dawn was thankfully clueless, the lie that Buffy was at a retreat miraculously holding against the littlest summers natural curiosity. Joyce couldn't bring herself to look at him afterwards. The small recovery to their marriage had been destroyed. The pressure of his home life coupled with his wayward daughter had led him back to his coping mechanism, work, and any woman willing to squirm beneath his thrusts. Joyce, of course, had once again found out using whatever witchcraft she seemed to possess. Sometimes he wondered if he should leave tracking spies and traitors to her instead.

Her reaction this time was far from understanding. The forgiveness she had forced herself to show the first time no longer present behind those cold eyes. The stress they were both under finally erupting into what became a drawn out divorce. By the time Buffy had been deemed well enough to return, the family she'd returned to was no more. Just a last name shared by people living under the same roof.

His lackluster efforts at repairing his relationship with his - now deemed sane - eldest daughter predictably failed. What little time he did spend with Buffy seemed to confirm that the little girl he'd once known was gone. Whatever combination of experiences in her life that she refused to talk about having removed all traces of innocence. Oh, she had been a good little actress, but he had years of experience seeing past a facade. He could see the signs of his daughter compartmentalizing her life. All it did was make him blame her even more for destroying his with her own foolishness.

The only upside to the tattered mess that his family had become was that it had allowed his career to soar. Focusing on work and little else, the sound of his family falling apart around him just chatter in the background. Within months he'd been promoted into a new division of the NID. At first it had seemed like a dream come true, a division that did whatever it took.

What a fool he'd been.

Now, he found himself staring in from outside of the house where his estranged family lived, reminded of his failings. Being assigned to the SGC, seeing George again, just knowing the way the man's family worshiped the ground he walked on. It all cut away at his pride and he'd swallowed the rest. He needed to fix this, repair what he'd not only broken, but obliterated before throwing it into the fires of hell itself.

He'd only been here a handful of times, for Dawn mostly, who seemed to still have an untainted place for him in her heart. Joyce always glared in anger, snapping thinly veiled slights behind the meaning in each of her words. Buffy … he let out a sigh. Buffy always fled behind a mask. She'd gotten better at controlling herself after the divorce, much better. Even he had a hard time seeing through her guises now. She seemed to try though, to forgive him for what he'd done. An instinctive drive to look past a fathers misdeeds and view their relationship through the eyes of her younger self.

Starting towards the front of the house he knew the reception would be an unpleasant one. But he needed to begin rebuilding bridges that had long ago burned. This was the opportunity he'd been waiting for, hopefully enough years had passed for wounds to heal. Walking up the driveway he tried to pick up on slight changes since the last time he'd been here. The house was exactly the same, the jeep he'd bought Joyce as a birthday present still parked in the center of the driveway. He rung the doorbell, raising the flowers he'd bought as a peace offering to the first Summer's woman who opened the door.

What he hadn't expected was the ragged looking redhead who greeted him. Her messy hair and puffy, bloodshot eyes quickly betraying that her day was going far from how she wanted, like she'd just woken after a week long bender. "I'm looking for Joyce Summers. Does she … does she still live here?"

Any doubt that she did was removed instantly as the young woman's face turned into a glare. Obviously someone firmly entrenched in the 'kill Hank Summers camp'. He watched as her head dropped, hiding her face from his curious view. shaking side to side like the disappointed parent he'd once been.

"Wait here."

Seconds later the door swung open once more. But what greeted him was not the elegant blonde he had fallen in love with so many years ago, nor vibrant face of either of his daughters. Instead an equally ragged looking man filled his view, days behind on his shaving by appearance. "Oh. I didn't know Joyce was seeing someone. You're her … boyfriend?" It was a surprise, but a conversation for another day. "I'm Hank Summers" He forced a 'genuine' smile.

The man's response mirrored the redheads as he opened the door the rest of the way. A few more unfamiliar faces gathered around the kitchen table coming into view. Each wearing the same ragged expression, organized around the redhead now typing away on a computer. Each one periodically pointed at the screen uttering words too far away to hear. He frowned when instead of being invited in, the man simply came outside closing the door firmly behind him. It was a cold greeting and he'd been prepared for it. Just not prepared to receive it from a man he didn't know.

"Perhaps it's best if we have this conversation away from the house" The man replied as he began walking into the yard.

Hank hated following along, but he he needed to play the part. Self respect could come later, right now he just wanted to see his daughter, daughters. He was here to beg forgiveness and a place back in their lives. Lives that this man, whomever he was, played some kind of role. "You didn't answer my question."

The man finally stopped as he reached a large tree in the front yard, apparently finally ready to talk "No, I didn't."

Hank swallowed down the sharp words that popped in his mind. "Where's Joyce?" He'd tried to be diplomatic but the words still came out harshly.

"My name is Rupert Giles. I'm a family friend to the Summers. If my memory serves me your Buffy and Dawn's father." At Hank's nod Giles continued "I'm afraid Joyce has passed away. Several months ago in fact."

Hank's eyes went wide from the hard yet clear statement "What?"

Joyce?

Gone?

Giles face betrayed nothing as he prepared to deal with the fallout. It was hard to sympathize for a man with such little interest in his families lives. So removed that he didn't even know his children's mother was dead, months ago. In a dark corner of his mind he felt a brief flash of satisfaction knowing he was about to inflict some small act of retribution on his slayer's behalf. But the reminder of Buffy removed whatever sliver of relief he'd just found, back to the crushing grief they were all feeling at the loss of her brilliant smile.

"You heard me."

… … … "How?"

"She was diagnosed with a brain tumor in December. A month later it was removed. Unfortunately, complications arose a few months after that. She died in March of a brain aneurysm."

Hank's face fell from the calm mask to one of grief as every moment he spent analyzing the expressions of Mr Giles removed his doubt second by agonizing second. There was no dishonesty in those cold eyes. The piece of his brain that was always on duty confirming that everything that he'd just heard was the truth while another still clung to denial. "I … I didn't know."

Giles face flashed with a moment of anger. "No … you didn't. We tried contacting you for months. Though, in hindsight … … … perhaps it's best this way."

"Best? Are you out of your mind? Leaving Dawn to Buffy of all people, Alone?"

Giles prayed for patience, his fingernails digging further into the palms of his fist. "Perhaps it's best if you sit down for this part Mr. Summers." Giles gestured towards a bench placed against the nearby tree. He stifled his thoughts, noticing the ground was littered by the smoke scented tracks of Spike's protective lurking.

"I'd like to speak to Buffy?"

Giles took a deep breath, studying the lightly salted features of the man. Anything to stall the words he still couldn't accept leaving his mouth. "Buffy died two days ago."

Hank took the advice he'd been given. Stumbling numbly towards the slatted wooden bench. This was a nightmare, it had to be. Any second he was going to wake up. His eyes would open to a new day and he'd walk right over to his phone to call Joyce.

His mind latched onto the idea like a life raft. He'd speak to Joyce, ask her how her art gallery was doing. He didn't care but the store's profits were what kept his daughters provided for. After a few minutes of pretending to care he'd speak to Buffy, give her a round of stern fatherly advice before moving on to Dawn. His lips curled into a slight smile as he thought of speaking with Dawn. She was a handful no doubt, but her quirky charm could grow on anyone. So much like her sister once was. Closing his eyes he knew this was some kind of subconscious wake up call. Another sign that he needed to fix the relationship with his daughters. He drew his hand back, smacking himself across the face with a heavy palm. His eyes widened in fear as he realized he didn't wake.

"If only it were it so easy to wake from this nightmare."

"I … "

"Buffy died saving Dawn from being hit by a bus. Her funeral is tomorrow."

… … …

"Dawn is the only one of your family still alive. As you can imagine, she's in no condition to see anyone right now, let alone her absentee father. Now that he's finally found the time to care."

"Who do you think you are?" Hank yelled.

Giles patience was long gone, his responsibility to Dawn the only thing holding back Ripper's need to feel the 'crack' of the man's neck snapped beneath his rage.

Everyone's patience was short, each trying to cope with the loss in their own way. Anya had turned to sex. Xander had turned to Willow ignoring Anya. Willow turned to Magic ignoring everything but it's addictive pull. Tara just seemed lost, her girlfriend acting erratically while the entire group dynamic she was just now getting acquainted with disintegrated before her eyes. Spike seemed slightly more pissed at the world than normal, if that was even possible. And Dawn … Dawn bypassed the denial phase the rest were trapped in and jumped head first into anger and grief. Shutting everyone out of her life with a very literal slam of a door.

They'd all lost Buffy. No matter how bad things were she was always the light guiding them through the darkness surrounding them. He sighed, vengeance would need to wait. The last thing Dawn needed was hearing him get into a shouting match with her father or the quickly silenced cry of pain before he ended the man's life.

He could relate to what the man was feeling. Buffy was as much if not more his daughter than she was Hank's in his mind. If it were him in Hank's position … he understood. Who did he think he was? That was an easy question to answer.

"According to the legal papers Buffy prepared, Dawn's legal guardian."

"What! She can't do that!" Hank's head jerked up as the conversation took yet another unexpected turn.

"After you failed to even call after Joyce died or show up for the last four years?" Giles let a little Ripperish grin show through "I assure you, she did."

Hank's newly found anger was boiling dangerously close to the edge as he processed what he was being told "I don't believe you. This is some kind of joke. I want to speak to Buffy. Right now!"

"Then I suggest you end your life." Giles suggested.

"What?"

"If you'd like to speak to Buffy."

"Are you insane?"

"That depends who you ask."

Hank growled at the man. Yet try as he might to catch that little glimmer of a lie in Mr. Gile's eyes, the icy glare held only the pain of truth.

Buffy was gone.

"I want to speak to Dawn."

"I thought you might. I'll see if she's willing."

"No! You get her down here right fucking now. I don't care what she says."

Giles teeth clenched shut so tightly his jaw popped. "You have no say here Mr. Summers."

"I'm her father!"

"Not anymore, not according to the State of California."

Hank's anger finally exploded as he shot to his feet, attempting to storm past the infuriating man only to find himself staring at the sky. Seconds later he was back on his feet, his face red with fury and the embarrassment that he'd let his training lapse so completely as to be surprised by a forty year old civilian.

Giles held up a stalling hand "I really would rather not explain to Dawn why her father's body's laying in the front lawn. But try that again, and I'm sure I'll think of something."

"Is that a threat! Do you have and idea the hell I can reign down on your head?"

"I'm sure we'll manage."

… … …

… … …

"Buffy doesn't have the power to remove me as Dawn's guardian."

Giles let a little his smirk widen on his lips a little more. A move sure to enrage the man even more than he already was. In that moment, he decided his Slayer would have been proud of him using his face as a weapon. "Funny thing about your daughter. She was a remarkably adaptive individual. People underestimated her. I'd like to believe she got that from her mother."

"Borderline unstable sounds more accurate. And not smart enough to find a legal loophole, not with the lawyers around here."

"As I said, remarkably adaptive your daughter, and far more intelligent than people gave her credit. You haven't spoken to your daughters in nearly two years Mr. Summers, haven't made a visit in four. She called every single number we could find trying to locate you when Joyce died. She spoke to your employers, spoke with the LAPD, any friends we could find, and she documented every single call. Buffy didn't want Dawn to end up in a foster family, so she planned as best she could with what information she had available. She made sure Dawn would always have someone. I'll provide you a copy of what paperwork I have tomorrow. Until a judge tells me otherwise, Dawn's my responsibility. I promised Buffy I'd look after her as my own. I'll not stand by and turn her over to you just to be ignored and forgotten."

… … …

Giles couldn't help twist the knife "And just in case your thinking about challenging my custody, you should know, Buffy kept very extensive diaries. Every visitation you failed to attend, every holiday, every birthday you forgot. According to her, they should be admissible in court. I haven't read them, but she assured me their content paints you very … unfavorably. As I said, far smarter than anyone gave her credit."

… … … "This isn't happening"

"Believe me, I wish it were the case." Giles commiserated.

Hank sat back down on the bench feeling a dizzy spell from all the information hitting him at once. The more he searched the face of this other man, the more he knew every piece of it was the brutal, unfiltered, truth, all of it. A small part of his mind reminded him this kind of fight couldn't be settled here. Another part feared just what those diaries might say. He needed facts, he needed to cool off, he needed: "I want to see Dawn."

"Let me check with her. Please wait around back, I'm sure she doesn't want the neighbors watching any more than they've already seen."

Hank angrily compiled, stomping his way through the gate and into the lush greenery behind the house. Noting that it seemed Joyce still spread plant life wherever she went. As requested, moments later Dawn's face appeared just as the door swung out of the way. He was amazed at how tall she'd become, taller than Buffy … His heart dropped as he realized what he had just thought. The reality that his eldest daughter was gone stabbing into his heart as his mind began putting the pieces of reality together. Dawn's face was even more weary than the others. Ratty tangled hair and tear stained cheeks all but confirmed everything that Mr. Giles had told him.

Buffy was gone.

He moved forward to wrap his only remaining daughter in a comforting hug "Dawnie, baby."

What he found instead of the grieving embrace he'd expected, was a tiny fist driven into his diaphragm. The hit forcing the air from his lungs as he collapsed to his knees gasping in surprise.

"Don't bother showing up tomorrow for the funeral. You didn't want to be there for Buffy when she was alive, you don't deserve to be there now. Get off my porch or I'll have Giles throw you off." Dawn added insult to injury, shoving him over onto the flat of his back with a bare foot.

The door slammed shut behind her before he'd even gotten back to his knees, still struggled to regain his breath.

Inside the house all eyes turned, watching the newly minted slayer storm up the stairs and back to her room. Seconds later another door slammed followed by a muffled scream echoing down to the dinning room where the finishing plans for Buffy's funeral were being made.

With the exception of spike, no one dare get too close. He was the only one durable enough to survive the violent mood swings of the unstable slayer. Even Giles kept a respectable arms length between himself and Dawn if he interrupted her grieving. The fact that Hank Summers was getting back to shaky feet could be considered a miracle. Everyone's eyes had turned to Giles now. His face relieved as he tucked the tranquilizer gun back in it's cubby. The dart capable of taking down an elephant, or a slayer, thankfully still unused.

Sunnydale, California – Initiative Facility Entrance

The difficult, but pleasant reunion with his family Hank had envisioned had turned into a nightmare. But as he closed on his target, still seething and shocked, he allowed his thoughts to turn to a familiar outlet, the one thing he knew. Work. Immersing himself in the familiar concentration. Attempting to drown out thoughts of Buffy with questions about what had brought him here. Regardless of his personal life the mission is what mattered.

It was all too easy to let his pain and rage redirected itself to a familiar outlet. It was Buffy's fault. Her fault Joyce had died, her own fault she had died, the reason Dawn hated him. Telling Dawn lies and stretching the truth painting him as the monster of the story. As he walked towards the destination on the map he swallowed hard, never noticing the tear rolling down his cheek as he turned his focus back to the task at hand.

His orders were simple. Snoop around the Initiative and make sure it was inactive. Strict directions not to enter or open any of the doors. The project had been closed down, it's true purpose scrubbed from existence. There were secrets here, secrets that no one wanted getting out. Secrets even he wasn't privy to. Just a flag on the file so convoluted it screamed 'landmines' he was anxious to avoid. The debris left behind from these kinds of black operations had a way of ruining everyone's day. Another rouge group and a potential scar on the NID's record.

So far, none of the entrances he'd checked showed any signs of use. Now, just on the edge of the local campus he was at the last on his list, glad it showed nothing of concern. The house demolished, the elevator shafts backfilled and paved over. A parking lot covering the reinforced concrete bunker lurking beneath. The secret secured to remain for decades, maybe centuries before it needed to be dealt with. Plenty of time for anyone responsible to be long gone. Before the fallout could occur from dealing with a collapsing underground fortress that 'didn't exist.'

With the initial portion of his assignment complete he meandered, driving casually through town following loose instructions from the major before finally stumbling across an area which showed damage. A poorly constructed steel scaffold off in the distance surrounded by caution tape from the local police. Despite his mood he managed a small chuckle at the 'Warning - Unstable Structure' sign that was posted just outside of the cordon.

He briefly wondered how incompetent a person would have to be to even think of approaching such a ungainly heap of twisted metal. The Goa'uld with all of their flaws were at least smart enough to avoid such a potential calamity of engineering that was this tower. He took several photos making a mental note to return in the light of day and take more. Whatever it was that Major Carter had detected, the scorch marks on the surrounding buildings made it a safe assumption that this was the epicenter.

Driving off, his mind twitched, catching a glimpse of familiar headlights. The following car beginning to sound alarm bells as he raked his memory wondering how long it'd been there, the unconscious byproduct of nearly two decades of near daily paranoia. He quickly shook off his suspicious as the old beaten desoto passed him by. People who drove cars like that, and looked like Billy Idol, did not a spy make.

Anyone he was worried about, the people that worked in the darker side of national pride, those people wanted to blended in, not … this. The other driver seemed to notice the attention as they waited side by side at a red light. His thoughts confirmed when he flipped him the bird and sped off in a screech of tires and a plume of burnt motor oil. The people in his world simply didn't make a scene that would make them memorable. Resigning himself to typing reports for the rest of the night he worked his way towards his motel. Keeping his mind focused on the task at hand and not letting it drift to the looming guilt that would soon overpower his ability of self delusion.

Sunnydale, California – Giles's Apartment

"So, I take it our new … friend … made it indoors safely?" Giles asked as Spike waltzed through the door with a cocky pride like he owned the place.

"Snug as a bug in a rug. Not sure why you wanted me to keep the ponce safe. Probably easier on the bit if he just disappeared. Got loads of friends, well … things … that would happily make him go away, permanently." Spike smirked as he sunk into the couch with a 'thud', leather billowing in the rush of motion.

"The last thing Dawn needs right now is to bury yet another family member. Even if she hates him right now, he's still her father. If he dies, it's just going to add that much more fuel to the fire."

"Shows just how good a woman Joyce was, the way her daughters turned out with that piece of work as a father. We sure they're really his?"

Giles focused his glare before realizing it was a joke.

"I'm serious about making him go away. Better to get it all out of the way at once. Bit won't even notice if he never comes back. Got enough on her mind right now."

"We're not having this conversation Spike, we're not talking about arranging Mr. Summers death."

Yet

Giles watched, unnerved as Spike's lips curled into a eery smile, like the vampire somehow had access to his mind. "She's confused enough as it is. I don't want her torn up hating the man and feeling sorry for him all at the same time. She's a slayer Spike, and we both know how similar to Buffy she is. How do you think she'll feel knowing a human, let alone her father, was killed because she was too busy grieving to take up the mantle of her sister? She needs time to cope."

Spike shrugged "Just saying, she doesn't need to know."

"There are other reasons in play here Spike." Giles explained, sitting down with a tumbler of whiskey. Pushing another towards Spike.

Spike grinned, reaching towards the glass only to take the bottle instead. Ignoring the angry glance as he took a swig. "You mean like why the first place Summers Senior went was the initiative? He scoped out every entrance we knew about, few we didn't. Definitely involved in something. Makes me wonder what he really knew about Buffy. He even stopped by Glories tower for a little looksy."

Giles sighed, another source of worry stacking on top of his mounting responsibilities. "I was afraid of this. Keep an eye on him until he leaves town. But I don't think he knew about Buffy's calling. He seemed remarkably uninformed, and from what I know about Buffy's past I just don't see it."

Spike raised an eyebrow "What about Buffy's past?"

"Nothing you need to know about."

"Fine, fine." Spike raised his hands in mock surrender "Least tell me what the ponce is up to. I don't fancy all of the questions starting to pile up."

Giles put down his glass, leaning forward clasping his hands between his knees "The Watcher's Council, though misguided at times, are masters of political theater. Much of that comes from their ability to gather intelligence on their enemies, and their allies. When Buffy was found to be the newest slayer, one of the first things that was done was to dig through the identities of anyone around her. Joyce was exactly as she seemed, Hank Summers background, however, had … inconsistencies. They concluded him to be an intelligence operative of unknown loyalty."

Spike leaned back, resting his arms on the back of the couch spread like wings. "Huh, guess that explains why the bugger is so hard to get a hold of."

Giles took another drink "Quite."

"So if he went missing …"

"More may come"

"Buffy know, 'bout Hank?"

Giles eyes narrowed.

"Right, course not. Slayer didn't need another thing to worry her pretty little head about."

"It doesn't matter anymore"

"No shit gramps. You gonna tell Dawn?"

Giles let out a sigh "I don't know. I'm not sure what it would accomplish. He'll be gone soon enough and hopefully that will be the end of it. How was Dawn when you checked in on her?"

"Finally asleep for once. Think the witches mighta had a hand in that. Seemed like they had everything under control."

"That's a slippery slope"

Spike shrugged "At this point, anything to get her to stop balling her eyes out is fine by me. She blames herself you know, for Buffy's death."

Giles frowned "There's not much we can do about that. Not that I hold it against her, but in a way she is responsible. It's just something she's going to have to work through."

Spike took another swig from the bottle before walked towards the door bottle in hand. "Wish I thought you were wrong about that watcher."