Disclaimer: Your standard don't-rip-off-the-mattress warning should work.
Just a little something that popped into my head. Lord Cross is mentioned in the Hellgate: London book series. I never played the game because the reviews for it sucked. Idea was good though.
Not beta'd, but spellchecked.
The refrigerator door slammed shut. Tony angrily shook his head as he grumbled, “Out of beer again.” He needed
that beer. It was almost a medical need; while he was angry when he was drunk, he was so deep into depression sober that he was nearly unable to function. He needed to be drunk today of all days especially.
Today was the twentieth anniversary of the day he had left London. He hardly advertised the fact, but he was British, as was Alexander. Twenty-one years and change ago, the rift within his family, the Templars, had exploded from rivalry into a full-blown civil war. Not that anyone beyond the Templars knew. Living as they did, in bunkers underneath London, no one even knew they existed, let alone had problems. Twenty years ago today, Tony’s wife had been killed in the fighting, leaving him the widower father of a young toddler. Tony had left the Templar behind, taking his son and fleeing to what seemed to be a safe haven across the ocean in America. His wife, well, he didn’t even remember when Jessica came into his life. He had been drinking away the pain to the extent that he barely remembered grabbing his meager belongings and leaving the bunker he had lived in for the first twenty or so years of his life.
He had kept the habit of drinking until he passed out to this day. If he were honest, Jessica was only tolerated because she kept the booze flowing, and because he had taken a vow. Vows were something sacred, that much he had kept from his time with the Templars. He wasn’t fond of her, and while he was never nice while he was drunk, he never raised a hand to his wife, and never even thought of harming his son. The furniture, or the house, sure. Never his family, though.
Seven years ago, he had seen a demon. Not the demons the Templar prepared for, the True Demons, but some minor demons that were barely deserving of the title. He didn’t even believe that the demons he had been taught about existed. These vampires his son fought (he wasn’t stupid) were so far below the level of what he had trained for through his teenage years, that he nearly scoffed at them. Or rather, he would have if he had kept up with his training. If this Hellmouth was the worst the world had to offer, the thing that all supernaturally aware were afraid of, then True Demons were only a story.
He had ignored the vampires and their ilk for seven years now. Alexander and his blond bimbo of a friend had kept them in check well enough. The redhead Alexander had grown up with seemed to help as well. He tried to keep up with his son’s life, he really did, but between the drinking and Alexander being a reminder of his late wife, he tried almost as hard to stay away from the boy. He was proud of the man his son had grown to become though.
Tony sat down on the couch, ready to end his rare reflective moment with the bottle of wine Jessica (never his wife) had hidden in the back of the refrigerator, when the television stopped his show for a ‘Breaking News Update.’ Tony snorted; the news had no idea what a real disaster would be like. A Hellgate would be a real problem. A hurricane, like he was expecting, not so much.
Suddenly he sat up straight on the couch, all traces of inebriation seemingly disappearing. That was a Blood Angel
on the television. The news was calling it an alien invasion, but that was a Blood Angel, a True Demon. A True Demon, here, in Sunnydale. Shit.
The front door burst open, admitting Alexander. He was out of breath and panting, almost as if he had run across town.
“Look, I know you guys don’t know what goes on around town, but you have to get out. Now!” Tony was hurt that his son was so short with them, but it was what he deserved after the way he had treated the boy all these years.
Jessica was in a panic. “Alex, what’s going on?!” The dumb girl hadn’t the slightest clue what went on in Sunnydale. No real surprise. She was never anywhere near bright, let alone observant enough to catch on.
“– The First has flying demons and –“ Alexander was attempting to explain demons, the Hellmouth, and the danger in one breath, impressive and yet sad at the same time. That little redhead must have left quite the impression on the boy.
Tony quietly interrupted, “Blood Angels. They’re called Blood Angels, Alexander.”
The boy began to correct him (“Xander. It’s been Xander for years.”), but then did a double take, a shocked and confused expression on his face. “How do you know what they are, even G-man didn’t know.”
Tony sighed. He didn’t want his history to come out at all, let alone in this setting. There was no time to explain anyway. “It doesn’t matter now. Tell this G-man of yours to contact Lord Cross in London and tell him there is a Hellgate in Sunnydale.”
Alexander, realizing that was all he was going to get out of Tony began to rush out of the house after grabbing the few medieval weapons he had collected from his room, a few stakes and a battle-axe that seemed to have suffered some hard use.
Tony sighed again. “Alexander, wait.” He made his way over to the closet and withdrew the sword he had forged with his father when he turned twelve. It was the pinnacle of Templar technology, along with the Templar battle armor, which he had left back in London when he ran. The sword was a mix of arcane energies as well as technology generations beyond what was available in the civilian world. Tony’s sword was a meter long broadsword that seemed to pulse with energy along the seams where the sword had been folded. His father had melted down his own sword when he had made Tony’s; which was a family tradition. Tony’s sword was, in a way, the same sword that had been used for generations in the Harris family. Every father would forge his original sword into his son’s first sword, supposedly passing on the energy of the past to the youngest family member.
He gave the sword one last look, lost in the memories of over twenty years ago, before his life went to shit. Tony shook himself, bringing himself back into the present and handed the sword, hilt first, to his son. “This will kill the demons. Your slayer friend can handle herself, but this is for you.”
Alexander looked stunned, overwhelmed by the sword and his father’s knowledge of what really went on in Sunnydale. He looked at Tony with a questioning glance, and Tony knew there would be eventual questions, before turning and jogging back down the street, sword in hand.
Tony stood at the door, watching his only son run off to fight what he had never believed in. His very recently reaffirmed beliefs did little to help now.
“Good luck, Alexander.”