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Hank Summers, Dark-Hunter?

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This story is No. 1 in the series "Resurrected 'Verse". You may wish to read the series introduction first.

Summary: Hank Summers isn’t the world’s greatest parent, but just maybe he had a really good reason for running off to Spain…

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Literature > Dark Hunter SeriesJmariaFR1876,68922111,37511 Sep 0815 May 10Yes

One: Out Tonight

Title: Hank Summers, Dark-Hunter?
Author: Jmaria
Rating: FR-15
Disclaimer: Joss owns the dubious Mr. Summers, Kenyon owns all things Dark-Hunter
Summary: Hank Summers isn’t the world’s greatest parent, but just maybe he had a really good reason for running off to Spain…
A/N: Hank in a bar, because all of my characters are forever in the bar. Possible slight plot spoilers for Night Pleasures and Kiss of the Night.

Hank Summers, Dark-Hunter?

One: Out Tonight

Henrik Somners threw back the shot, waiting for phone call that should have come hours ago. Only one person besides Ash had that number, and she’d only called it twice in the last year. Once to tell him her daughter came home and another warning him away from her graduation. Two calls lasting less than a minute total in the longest twelve months of his life.

Henrik Somners was a good looking man, and more than one woman had tried to sidle up next to him in the crowded bar. Heavy rock music grated his ears as his curling blond hair hung in his eyes. He was six foot even, his eyes black, and his body leaner than it had been in eighteen years. His own mother wouldn’t even recognize him, much less his wife and daughter.

Scratch that. Hank Summers mother, ex-wife and daughter wouldn’t recognize Henrik Somners. Hank Summers was as good as dead, dead-beat father that was enjoying a mid-life crisis and a younger mistress. Henrik snorted into his second and final shot of the night. He’d been with one woman since his rebirth as a Dark-Hunter. One since the divorce, and one after the change. Two women in three years. What a joke.

The rock music screeched to a halt, the band quickly breaking into the distinctive tune of “Sweet Home Alabama”. The Spanish people and tourists who didn’t know better hooted a bit, but the ones in the know understood who it heralded. Sanctuary wasn’t the only place that warned every Apollite, Daimon, Dark-Hunter and any other immortal or ‘other’ that Acheron had entered the building.


“Nice to see you too, Padre,” Ash chuckled, plopping down beside him.

“Atlantean, you just sent the Romper Rooms into a tizzy,” Henrik sighed, tossing back his shot.

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t already know. And it isn’t just me sending ‘em into a tizzy. Some of ‘em want a bit of the Papi, too.”

“They’re five years older than my daughter,” Henrik muttered.

“Whose daughter?” Ash’s voice took on a rough edge.

“Hank Summers daughter, the man I know like a brother.”

A year of training, of accepting his new identity and he still slipped up. Henrik slid his gaze over to Ash, knowing those swirling silver eyes were watching him behind the dark glasses. He still remembered the scene he and Acheron had made after Artemis had dumped him on the older Dark-Hunter. Henrik had been reeling from the revelation that even if he saved his daughter from the demon horde that the ‘monsters’ of her world would still come after her. Still try and kill her. Ash and Artemis had broken that to him, and it hadn’t gone well. But Ash had given him a reason to fight on. Every Daimon Henrik killed left one less monster to hunt down his little girl.

“Not that a Daimon, Dark-Hunter, Were-Hunter, true immortal, or Apollite would ever be stupid enough to visit Sunnydale much less move there,” Ash had snorted.

Henrik shook his head, missing what Ash had said now.

“…blew up a high school, but she’s unscathed.”


“The news. In SoCal? Pretty little blonde girl and her graduating class nuked the school. Big ass snake too. Her family was safe, and there weren’t too many casualties.”

“Nuked the school?”

“Yeah, when blondie celebrates she goes all out.”


“No, you cannot go see her. That area is a no fly zone, and I really don’t think you want to have your wings clipped.”

“No. I know.” Henrik took in a deep breath. “Thanks, Ash.”

“Yeah, yeah. Make it up to me and drop a calming line out to the Viking before he bubble-wraps his squire. Or out to Kyrian before he’s tempted to strangle Nick again.”

“Or out to you before you spoil Simi more?” Henrik grinned.

“Nah, me and Simi have got a good system. I spoil her rotten and she lives with it. Now you, go kick some Daimon ass for us all, Padre. Vent a little.”

And that’s exactly what Henrik Somners aka Padre aka Hank Summers did with the rest of his night. Just because he couldn’t be there for his little girl.
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