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Author's Chapter Notes:
I seem to have forgotten that I also needed to update on this site. I'll try to bring things up to date, since the fic is actually completed at 32 chapters (including two epilogues)
*1630 Rovello Drive, the next morning.*

Hank had only just gotten back from LA where he had gone to tie up some loose ends—such as putting the condo he’d moved in after the divorce up for sale—when he’d gotten the call that there was an emergency Slayer-related meeting he was invited to. So he hadn’t even gone by the hotel he still refused to call ‘home’ these days and went straight for the house. Joyce’s house.

He was currently sat in her kitchen as she made him a coffee while they waited for the rest of Buffy’s friends and helpers to arrive.

“What’s wrong?”

The question startled him and he realized he’d been so lost in his thoughts that the coffee was already in front of him and had probably started to cool. A sip confirmed it. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

He should have known better. Joyce sat down next to him and placed her hand on his. “You have that look. Something’s bothering you and I’m not your socialite wife anymore to just believe you at face value. Start talking.”

She was right, of course. Those last few years of marriage they’d both just gone through the motions, living the cliché: him with his secretary mistress, and her with her group of vapid trophy wives. Discussions about their problems had become so rare that when Buffy had burned down the school gym it had all exploded simply because they were finally forced to spend time together talking, trying to make a strategy, trying to be a family. He wasn’t even sure those people still existed anymore. His daughter had matured with her Calling, his ex-wife had blossomed into the kind of woman she’d always been meant to be, and even he himself was finally taking the reins of his life.

“I’m not sure how I can even talk to you about this…”

“Let me guess: Stacy isn’t coming to Sunnydale.” Her voice was devoid of jealousy, or judgement, and that only hurt Hank more.

“How’d you know?”

“Cheaters tend to trade up, not down.”

He winced. “Just for the record, I never considered her better—”

“She was young, pretty, willing to sleep with you, and always listened to what you had to say. Let’s not kid ourselves here.” She got up and grabbed a glass. For a moment Hank thought she would go for some sort of liquor, but she poured water in it instead.

“That’s not… I was a moron.”

Her lips quirked in a twisted smirk. “No, you were just looking out for yourself.” She put the glass down. “Maybe if I hadn’t been so clueless, I would have either stopped you, or gotten someone on the side for me.”

That shocked him. “Really?”

“I don’t know. I just know I missed the signs, or didn’t want to see them.”

“It takes two to screw up a marriage and I’m pretty sure I win at the ‘who screwed up more?’ awards.”

She made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “Doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done. Why don’t you tell me about what’s got you down now?”

He looked at her, at a loss for words for the moment. He then took a deep breath and started to talk. “I went back to sell off my condo, close up some accounts, things like that. She was supposed to meet me, to talk about her coming over, maybe to become my secretary again here.” It felt almost like a bad dream. He couldn’t even honestly say he was heartbroken. “She called me to let me know she wouldn’t be making the date, or any other, for that matter. She’s been working as Larry’s secretary since they fired me and I guess he’s getting the same treatment I was.”

“Really? She just went ahead and started working and sleeping with your best friend at the firm? What about Hellen? Are they getting a divorce, or will she turn a blind eye?” The unspoken ‘like I did’ sounded loud in Hank’s ears.

“I don’t know and I don’t really care.” He really didn’t have anything else left to say. He realized all of a sudden that most, if not all, of their ties to LA were gone. Her friends had deserted her as soon as the divorce was made final, and his friends had been ‘in a meeting’ and ‘just stepped out’ every single time he called. “To hell with them!”

“Hank!”

“No, really. I don’t just mean Stacy, Larry, and Hellen either. I mean all our so called friends. They can all go screw themselves!” He felt giddy.

“They just—” She didn’t continue her sentence, probably because she was unsure herself how she could defend the people that had cut them out as soon as they hit a rough patch.

“Exactly! I’ve known Giles for just a couple of months and I bet that he wouldn’t start sleeping with my whatever-she-was as soon as my back was turned. And I bet even Spike wouldn’t stop talking to you if he broke up with Buffy. Let’s face it: our daughter is better at making friends—real friends—than we ever were. And that’s not even counting the fact that any one of them is putting their life on the line just by being around her; and they know it!”

She seemed pleased with him. “So you don’t regret that you’re here?”

He took her hands in his. “I only regret what I did to you and Buffy back in LA. I hope I get a chance to make up for it in some way here.” Once the words were out there he realized the double meaning he hadn’t even meant to put in them. Given the choice, he wouldn’t take it back, though. So he waited to see what Joyce had to say about his almost proposition.

She looked at him then in a way that reminded him of days long past, when they were both younger and a lot less jaded. She didn’t say a word for a long time and he could hear his pulse as it pounded in his ears, he could also feel the butterflies in his stomach, something that he thought he had become immune to around the time he’d gotten his corner office with a view. He had been such a fool for so long.

Joyce gave him a small smile, part coy and part encouragement, then she nodded once and spoke to him. “I hope so too.” She didn’t give him a chance to say anything else, though. She got up and started to walk towards the living room. “Now finish up your coffee before it gets completely cold. We have guests coming to discuss how we can help all our daughter with her latest problem.”

Warmth spread through his body despite the lukewarm beverage.

***

Buffy was holding an empty coffee cup, its contents already hard at work inside her sleep-deprived body. She hadn’t been able to get a wink after getting home, her mind busy going over all the possible ramifications of what had happened the previous night.

Looking up she saw a room full of familiar faces waiting for her to start explaining the reason for the early Sunday morning meeting. She took another moment just taking it all in: her parents, Watcher, teacher, two best friends, and Cordelia. Not much of an army, but so much more than any Slayer before her. She allowed herself to feel blessed and good for a few seconds before she jumped in to the ugly business they had to deal with.

“There’s a group of humans capturing, or hunting demons. They got the wife of a guy from a peaceful race Spike was dealing with, Dalton went to help find her and they almost got him instead. From what I’ve heard, it’s been going on for at least a couple of weeks, with about a dozen demons, most of them harmless, disappearing without a trace.”

There was a pause, before Xander asked the question Buffy expected him to.

“So I just have to ask: why do we care? I mean, isn’t a group of demon hunters going to make life easier for you?”

“No.” She knew she sounded harsher than she should have, but she couldn’t really help it. She wasn’t just answering Xander, but herself as well, since she’d spent most of the night thinking about a lot of things, and those same questions had popped up in there at some point.

“But they’re just demons.”

“They were harmless, they were a family, and they were in my town.” Even she wasn’t sure which one of the three was the worst offence, but every Slayer instinct she had told her to fight back at the rogue demon hunters. And if she’d learned anything about herself since becoming the Slayer was to trust her gut.

“But I thought—”

“The truth is that there have been many different demon races and clans that have integrated in human society. The Council usually steers its Slayers away because it could possibly spark a war with forces hitherto left undisturbed.”

Buffy was a bit startled by Giles’ words. She knew there were demons that hadn’t bothered her, and she hadn’t bothered them, but she hadn’t known it was standard Council policy, or something. She just thought there had always been bigger fish to fry.

“So if this gets out of hand, Buffy could have more enemies than she already has?” Joyce’s mother instincts must have made her cut through the BS and right to the ‘what can threaten my daughter?’ of the thing.

“That’s not it, is it, though? At least, not entirely. The Council was more afraid of Slayers asking questions.” Hank was pinning Giles with one of his looks that Buffy knew from before, from LA. She’d gone to a couple of his trials, back when the different rifts in their family hadn’t become so large that everyone just focused on doing their own thing and ignoring the others. So she recognized that look as the one he used to make the main witness for the opposing side betray some deep, dark secret that would sink their case. All of a sudden she was starting to look at things in a completely new light.

“No, I mean the Council are the good guys, right?” Willow’s inner sense of justice must have been going into overdrive.

“But they really aren’t, are they? I mean, sure, they protect humanity from demons, but at the same time, they’re just a bunch of people trying to control a force of nature. A force of nature packed inside the body of a teenaged girl, which means they’re also responsible for guiding where that power is aimed at. I’m willing to bet that a Slayer asking questions such as: ‘how come there are demons that don’t try to hurt others?’, or ‘are demons capable of feelings?’ would be the Council’s worst nightmare, because they would have to start admitting there are shades of grey to her, and that might make her start making her own decisions.” His eyes were all but throwing daggers at Giles. “And that would only make them a bunch of people with lots of knowledge, but without power. Right?”

Giles was very visibly flustered. He was flushed, sweaty, and he was polishing his glasses into dust. “I never— That is to say— How could—?” His shoulders sagged and he dropped his eyes to the ground between Buffy’s legs. “I suppose that could be a perfectly viable description of at least parts of the Council.” He sighed. “One might say large parts.” He looked at Buffy then, his eyes pleading. “I never brought it up because you already had your hands full with dangerous demons, vampires, school, and trying to lead a semblance of a normal life. Had I told you about the numbers of demons around us daily, you might have felt compelled to act on that information leading to your Slaying around the clock, turning you into little more than a Dalek. I mean a mindless killing machine.” His eyes were so full of warmth and sorrow that Buffy felt like crying. “I couldn’t do that to you. I wouldn’t. I was going to reveal more to you as you grew older and matured.”

“It’ fine, Giles. I understand.” She cleared her throat from the gruffness near-crying had brought on. She then focused on the rest of the original Slayerettes. “What we need now is to admit there are demons out there that are harmless, and that means that hurting them is the same as hurting harmless humans. Which means these ‘demon hunters’ are evil and need to be stopped.”

There was silence for a few moments, everyone taking their time to digest the newest mission. Then Xander slapped his palms on his knees.

“So what can we do to help?”

Buffy felt better, lighter, and she smiled. “Well, I talked to Spike this morning and his people haven’t been able to find anything new. In fact, it’s like they are ghosts or something.” She swept her eyes across the room again. “That’s why we need to find out anything we can ourselves. Ideas?”

“I could look into the city documents, see if maybe they left a paper trail.” Hank was scribbling notes on a legal pad.

“I could inquire around, see if maybe some old acquaintances of mine know of any groups active in this area.” Giles was writing in his notebook almost as fast as Hank was. The image of the two men slightly hunched over, busy making their lists was almost amusing.

“And we could all keep our eyes peeled, ask around, you know, be like sleuths. Oh, and Ms. Calendar and me could hack into the Police files and check those for clues, too.” Willow’s eyes were all lit up with excitement.

The rest of the voices started to overlap slightly, and everyone began bouncing ideas off the person next to them, and Buffy was just basking in the glow of it all when her mother cut through the noise with a question.

“What if these people come after Buffy?”

“Why would the demon hunters go after the Buffster?” Xander had been reaching for a doughnut from the table when Joyce’s question made him pause.

“Are you really that dumb, Xander Harris? Use that pea-sized brain of yours to imagine you’re a guy hunting demons, apparently peaceful demons, so human looking demons. Now imagine running across a girl, somewhat pretty, with a weird bump on her nose, and off-season clothes kicking the crap out of a demon three times her size. Wouldn’t you try to, you know, hunt the girl-looking demon, too?” Cordelia then slapped the back of his head for good measure.

Willow looked like she’d swallowed a wasp. “Wait, they could do that?”

“Well, ah, that is to say, I suppose that is a possibility, especially if this is a more clandestine group, with less contact with other people more knowledgeable.”

“But the Slayer is like the best there is, how could they not know about her? It’s called basic research.” Willow was still blinking like a deer in headlights.

“Unfortunately there are enough people out there that consider research a waste of time.” He threw a sideways glance at Xander, who just shrugged his shoulders. “In any case, until we have more information about their identities, plans, or intention we should all be extremely careful.”

Buffy had listened with growing dread. Ever since the mention the previous night from Spike that she could be on the list for those people, she hadn’t been able to take her mind off it. Visions of being locked in a cell she couldn’t break out of, wearing strait jackets, and being pumped full of mind-numbing drugs had driven away even the thought of sleep. Hearing Giles talk about it filled her veins with ice and she promised herself that she would never be captured.

And if that’s what people like that Mike-check, or Raise-crack were going through, thinking of their loved ones, and the possibility of them being next, she swore silently that she would do whatever it took to stop it. Whatever the cost.





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