Disclaimer: I own nothing.
AN: Just a snippet I forgot I threw together some time ago. Hope someone enjoys.
As far as summers went, the one after her Junior Year had been one of the crappiest that Buffy remembered. It really shouldn’t have been. She’d defeated the Master, stopped the apocalypse, and actually somehow managed to get a B in chemistry; so, hey, it should have been happy fun times on the beach during the day and Scooby shenanigans at night. Right?
Of course, it didn’t work out that way.
The nightmares about the Master had set in less than a week after she sent his undead ass on a one way trip down the hellmouth. Buffy thought that she could handle them, but it turned out just like before at Hemmery. She started to act out and push the boundaries. Her mom, not wanting a repeat of a burnt down gym, had sent her to spend the rest of the summer with her dad. That was when things really started to go to hell.
Hank had been more interested in his new twenty-year-old girlfriend who “just knew she and Buffy were, like, going to be the best of friends” than Buffy and had left her to her own devices more often than not. She made him make it up to her by getting very well reacquainted with his credit cards. He didn’t seem to really care, as long as he didn’t have to actually deal with her. As for her sneaking out, well, Buffy supposed it wasn’t really sneaking out if you were able to walk out the front door and back in through it at 4:00 in the morning with no one around to stop you. She partied and slayed. He partied and did things she’d rather not think about, and neither one saw each other for more than maybe an hour ever other day.
Then came that night towards the end of July when Hank and the girlfriend had a fight, and he decided to take it out on Buffy by pretending to act like a parent. The only problem was that he had a little too much to drink, which loosened Hank Summers tongue considerably. That’s when he dropped the bombshell on her. She wasn’t his. He had adopted her when he married her mother, but she wasn’t his ‘real’ daughter because no child of his would have went crazy and burnt down part of the school. Hank had been sure of that. The next morning he had acted as if he hadn’t remembered anything that had been said, so Buffy went on pretending as well. She couldn’t forget, though. Not really.
That had been the beginning of the end for her Hank.
She hadn’t told her mother this, of course, until just recently. Buffy probably wouldn’t have ever said anything except that nagging question had lingered in her mind. If this tumor was something more, she wouldn’t know who her biological father was. Dawn wouldn’t know who her biological father was because the monks made her from Buffy, and Hank wasn’t her dad.
Joyce’s face had paled at the question. It obviously wasn’t something she ever expected to be asked, though Buffy thought she had looked a little relieved.
Sitting up a little straighter in her hospital bed, Joyce had pressed her lips, looked down to her lap, and then said, “You won’t believe it, but he’s a doctor, and you remind me so much of him sometimes that it hurts.”
She then had given her a name, a familiar one that had explained so much.
It lead her here, to a busy street corner in a large city that she had never been too but always wanted to go. For a long time, she just stood there and let the afternoon sun warm her. It didn’t feel right just showing up like this, but Buffy didn’t know what choice she really had. Her mom doing better, but Glory was still out there. If something happened, Dawn needed protecting. As much as she nor Giles liked it, her father might actually be able to help.
Drawing in a deep breath, Buffy took one last look at the older sign that hung over the firehouse door and stepped inside.
The woman, who looked to be in her early forties, sat behind the secretary desk. A bored frown pulled on her lips as she tapped idle at her keyboard. Business seemed to be a little bit slow at the moment. Buffy snorted in her head. If they really wanted something to keep them busy, the hellmouth was always opened for business.
The woman looked up as Buffy approached her but still didn’t seem that interested. Still, she rambled off the greeting that Buffy was sure she had said a million and a half times before. “Welcome to Ghostbusters. How can we help you?”
Buffy cleared her throat. “Um, I’m looking for Peter Venkman.”