Author's note: It was becoming a struggle to try and imagine enough for a fifth story in this series. So I added a little to this one, which rounds it off. This series is now complete.

Fathers and Daughters.

Angel Investigations, one hour before sunset.

Angel Investigations.

The stranger stood reading these simple words for some time, hesitating over actually turning the knob and walking inside. So much had happened to make him doubt the reality of it. Would they really be able to help him? Did such an agency deal in just this sort of case? Sighing, he resolved himself and opened the door.

Entering he looked around. The office was rather large and half had been turned into an reception area. Behind the lone desk a young dark haired woman sat, typing something on a modern laptop, a contrast to the atmosphere that spoke of an age before technology.

She looked up upon his arrival. "Welcome to Angel Investigations," she began in a breezy voice. "Mr Doyle, Mr Wyndam-Pryce and Mr Gunn are out on a case at the moment. How may I help you?"

"I was hoping to see the main person," the stranger began, at a loss.

She seemed to know who he was talking about however. "Mr O'Connor is also out, I'm afraid. But he is expected back today. Would you like to wait in his office?"

"Please," the stranger replied. He followed her to the door that was at the other end of the room. She opened it and gestured him inside. "I'll let him know you're here as soon as he comes in." She then left him alone.

The stranger turned to survey the room. It was fairly Spartan, with only a shelf, a filing cabinet and a desk and chair to fill the floor space. The shelf was filled with books, all old and at least half in languages he did not recognise. The desk in comparison had few objects on it. A clock, pen, pencil and paper.

The paper caught his interest the most. Peering at it closely he saw something that made him gasp. It was a sketch, half finished of a young woman. Drawn masterfully, it reminded him of someone very dear to him. Someone who he had neglected much for years.

He had to contact her soon.

California highway, somewhere between Sunnydale and Los Angeles.....

In a black convertible two occupants sat reflecting on the events of the past two days. They had been hectic to say the least. After announcing their engagement to the Scooby gang at large they had waited with baited breath for the argument to come. But to their surprise, it never did. Even Xander, who had hated Angel with a passion, was happy to congratulate them. Plans to discuss the recent lack of demonic activity were abandoned in favour of wedding plans.

Discussion soon turned to Angel Investigations and Angel was able to reveal his plans to transfer to Sunnydale. How he had managed to persuade the millionaire David Nabbit to invest as a silent partner, giving him enough money to build a new base of operations in Sunnydale. Xander then surprised them all by suggesting a place.

The mansion on Crawford street it turned out, had been recently demolished and the land was up for sale. Angel automatically laid out the paper he had brought with him that contained his drawing of the new agency, complete with offices not only for his friends in L.A, but for Buffy and her friends as well. He then brought up the subject of partnership, offering Buffy a place for when she graduated, followed quickly by all the rest. Finally, above the offices, would be an apartment, their future home.

The next day they summoned up the courage and visited Joyce Summers. She reacted in the way they had expected her to; throwing every objection in that she could possibly think of. In the end Buffy and Angel had been obliged to spend the night in the spare bedroom at Xander and Anya's.

Neither had been too surprised. Buffy had known her objections from the moment she had said yes to Angel's proposal. She had also known that with the support of Giles and the others behind them, her objections would not harm them.

Angel came to a halt outside the office building and, wrapping an arm around his beloved, led her into what was now the temporary offices of the agency.

"Here you are at last!" Cordelia exclaimed, jumping up from her chair and rushing forward to greet them. Immediately she spotted Buffy's ring and eagerly inspected it. "Angel would not let us look at this at all. Oh four carat each easily," she remarked, casually evaluating the jewels.

"Cordy," Angel mildly rebuked. "Has anything happened while I've been gone?"

"Not until two hours ago," Cordelia replied. "The others have gone off to fight the big bad and there's someone in your office. He's been waiting to see you since six."

"Right. Do you want to join me?" Angel asked his beloved.

Buffy nodded and together they walked into the office.

The stranger had heard the rapturous cry that marked Angel's return and had quickly stood up. Turning round he gasped as the door opened to reveal the last person he had expected to see.

"Dad," Buffy said with some surprise as Angel looked similarly shocked, "what are you doing here. Mom didn't phone you, did she?" She ask worriedly, her imagination thinking up the conversation. She did not like the image at all.

"No, why what's happened?" He glanced at the man beside his daughter, holding her hand.

"Oh," Buffy rapidly remembered manners. "Hank Summers, this is Angel O'Connor. My fiancee."

Hank Summers remained in a state of shock for a while. Absently he congratulated them as his mind rapidly focused on the struggle that it was to collect his thoughts. So it was her. The half finished sketch that had been all he had had to gaze at while he waited, bore now more than just a startling resemblance to his only daughter.

He had studied it for quite some time; marvelling at the mastery of it. Every line had seemed like a caress, as though the artist worshipped the subject with a deep devotion. He had never for a moment imagined that he would know the subject. Or not as the case may be. He had come to realise lately that he did not know his daughter at all. Especially if this was anything to judge by.

"So, Dad," he eventually heard her saying as he came out into the world once more, to see his daughter by the man he had come to see, who sat in the chair opposite him, "why are you here? Is this official business, or did Mom decide to phone you?"

The last, he noted, was said with such bitterness. Obviously he had missed a lot. No more, he reminded himself. No more. "Its a business call. I had no idea you knew Mr O'Connor."

"Angel, please, sir," the man himself interjected.

Hank looked cautiously at the two of them. The story he had to tell was difficult to say the least. "I'm not sure Buffy should be........"

"Dad, believe me when I say its okay. Angel and I have no secrets."

For some reason only known to himself, that phrase scared him more than anything. But he needed help and if Angel could provide it, he would have to tell. "Last week I was walking home when suddenly I surrounded by some.... beings calling themselves the clan of the Kobashlar."

He paused to look for their reactions. His daughter had paled, while Angel was strangely calm, at least as far as he could tell. "They said that as a creator of the Chosen One I must be punished. I was beaten up pretty badly, but I managed to escape a lot of it by falling to the floor and playing dead.

"After I had recovered enough in hospital, the cop who I tried to report this to said to contact you. She said that you deal in these cases. At first I was reluctant, not sure if I would be believed. But since my recovery I've been followed from work frequently. So I came, hoping to find out why."

Hoping that the answer was not the one he had been dreading ever since it had happened.

Despite his outward appearance, Angel was far from calm, his beloved could tell. She reached for his hand and drew circles on it with a finger, in an attempt to reassure him. It achieved some of that mission.

Hank noticed the gesture. It was intimate and the look his daughter received in reply was even more so. It spoke of not only of love, but of a deep devotion as well.

Angel rose from his chair. "Mr Summers, let me assure you that we can help you. But firstly, we need to talk." He walked to the door followed by Buffy and opened it, gesturing for Hank to follow them.

"Cordelia," Angel began as soon as they were out. "Will you send the guys to us as soon as they return? And get Doyle to bring volume five of the Kilimmer Chronicles."

Five minutes later Hank Summers found himself sitting down in a much more spacious- but still Spartan -room with a neat Bourbon before him. Opposite, Angel and his daughter were gazing at him with a look mixed with both fear and resolution.

While he waited for them to speak, he took a look at the both of them for the first time. They made an interesting contrast, light and dark. Seeming to know each other's minds, fears and occupations. With that he came back to reality. "So, is someone going to tell me why I'm here?"

Angel glanced at Buffy for his cue and received it in reply. "Mr Summers, you said that the de.... beings attacked you because you were the creator of the Chosen One, correct?"

"Yes, although I don't see what that has to do with this."

"Everything," Buffy replied slowly, as her father looked at in surprise. "Dad, the person they were talking about is me. I'm the Chosen One."

"You're the Chosen One?" Hank repeated, a quiet dread stealing into his mind, wishing he knew what that title meant.

Angel seemed to know his mind. "Yes she is." He paused, watching the man before him, trying to determine how he was taking this. "Do you believe in vampires?"

"What?" Hank questioned, surprised at the turn the conversation had suddenly taken. "Ask me a week ago," he continued with a sigh, "and I would have said no. Now, I'm no longer sure what to believe in."

"In every generation there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer," Buffy quoted, Giles' voice in her head, along with the time when he had first said this to her. "As ironic as it has turned out to be, this is the myth that begins the entire story of my life from fifteen."

So it was true. Hank looked at his daughter, sadness creeping into him. "Ironic?" He asked, in a vain attempt to keep some of his hope alive.

"The Slayer never worked alone," Buffy explained, surprised at how well her father was taking this. "I have a Watcher, who is my mentor, teacher and guide. And my friends found out the first night I spent in Sunnydale. All help me save the world on a daily basis." Suddenly she realised the reason. "How long have you known?"

Angel looked at Hank in surprise. "Buffy, how could........." He never got to finish the question.

"My cousin was a Watcher," Hank replied. "He told me when you were five that you had 'chosen one potential' but never explained what that meant. He never had the chance."

Angel nodded, realising why. Slayers tended to be related in some way to Watchers, as he had found out during his undead days. It usually helped in finding the right Watcher for each Slayer, so family members did not get suspicious. He had been wondering why Buffy had been an exception. "Have you always known about this?"

"No," Hank began, watching the two of them carefully. "When my cousin died, I forgot about what he had said. When things between me and your mother became strained I thought that leaving you with her would be the best protection you could get while I tried to find out what he had meant by those words." He sighed. "Five years and nothing. Had I realised it had started before I even left........"

"It wouldn't have mattered," Angel replied. "Slayers are not allowed to tell their parents, anyone, of what they do. We only found out because we happened to be on the scene when your daughter arrived in Sunnydale."

Hank nodded, taking the information in. Suddenly he looked at Angel. "How did you get involved in all of this. Are you her Watcher?" He asked the last with some wariness.

Buffy and Angel glanced at each other and burst out laughing. The Slayer was the first to recover and instantly began to reassure her father. "No, that's Giles. Angel was....." she trailed off wondering how to begin.

"Dad, this next part might well scare you off completely. But you have to know our side of it before Mom tries a show and tell. You see a week ago, Angel was......" she found herself pausing again and turned to her beloved. "Angel, can you try? The last person I told didn't take it too well."

Her husband to be nodded, sat up and sobered. "Mr Summers, do you know much about vampires, demons and the like?"

Puzzled, Hank looked at the man blankly. "I don't see what that has to do...." he trailed off as he saw his daughter's face. "Okay. I know the basic. That the earth started not as a paradise, but as a place for demons, that the first vampire was made by demon living off the blood of a human, and that a vampire is a demon inhabiting a human body."

Angel looked at him in surprise. "You know a lot more than most then. The part about a human being only a host for a vampire is important here. When a person becomes a vampire, the part of them that is their self, their soul, dies. It is gone forever.

"The demon takes the body over, keeps it alive. And it may hold the memories of the person it inhabits, look like that person, but it is not that person."

He swallowed, remembering a time when he himself had been unable to accept this most fundamental point, unable to see past the sins his demon had committed. "And that, almost two hundred and forty-five years ago, was what I became."

Whatever he had been expecting, it was definitely not that. Hank was floored. He could only look at the man before him in dazed astonishment. "How?" He managed to ask.

Buffy took over, her confidence rising as her father produced an entirely different reaction to her mother. "Angel's case was, is, as my Watcher would say, rather unique. In 1898, his demon, Angelus, came across a gypsy's camp in Rumania. He fed upon a girl, a favourite of their tribe. In return, the Kalderash repaid him by restoring his soul."

She paused to lean forward, her voice becoming soft. "Imagine suddenly feeling guilt for every crime, every sin, you had ever committed and knowing that you cannot do a damn thing about it? Remembering the face of every person your body has killed, their screams, their pain.... to know that some demon has inhabited your body and done this doesn't matter.

"The guilt overwhelms you. In the end, you have a triangle choice; kill yourself, go insane, or try and atone for all that you have done, even though you never actually did it." She paused and glanced at Angel, whose eyes had clouded over with love at the depth of understanding that she had just displayed.

She then turned to her father, who was still shocked by the story, yet not revolted. Not at all. Instead he looked curiously back at them, waiting for the next part.

Angel began again, taking up the third part of his history. "For a while I tried to ignore it, hoping it would go away. But it never did. Eventually I began to take only those that had committed crimes themselves, thinking that the pain would go away. It never did. Until one day when I met my destiny."

Hank looked at the man before him in surprise. The story he was hearing right now had until this point seemed fantastical. But as he followed his glance of devotion, awe, wonder and most of love that was directed at his daughter, Mr Summers realised that he could never, never, break them apart.

Even if he wanted to, which he did not. He had always prayed for someone with the ability to love his daughter with the depth that she had always loved everyone she had ever known.

"The year was 1996. I was living off the streets of Manhattan, surviving on rats. A demon called Whistler came to see me. He gave me a choice. Continue to live as I was, or become someone who mattered. Who could make a difference. To help me make my choice, he took me to LA."

Angel's voice became soft, as his emotions took over. He turned to look at Buffy who was smiling back at him, remembering. "It was a bright, sunny day at her school. She walked down the steps. I saw her called. And for the first time in two hundred and forty years, I fell in love.

"Not because she was beautiful, or about to become the Slayer, but because I could see her heart. She held it before her for everyone to see. And I worried that it would be bruised or torn. And more than anything in my life I wanted to keep it safe, to warm it with my own.

"I went back to Whistler determined to fulfil the destiny he had seen for me. What I didn't realise was that it would come at a price."

As Angel told the rest of the story, Hank found himself getting angry. Not at the recently 'Shanshued' vampire, but at the injustice of the unlife which he had been dealt. The loophole in the curse, given to him by the Romany, its implications forcing him to be apart from the one person he had been chosen to protect in the first place. He also felt other things as well.

Foremost was a sense of respect and admiration for the man before him, to have fought his demons and conquered them, to fight every day for the restoration of souls. Joyce was not going to be happy with him. As Angel came to a halt, he began to voice his thoughts.

"If I hadn't heard this story the way you two have just told it, I would be objecting strongly to your marriage, even though I wouldn't have the right. Now, I just want to get know you. The both of you."

It was enough. Buffy left her chair and hugged him, tears falling from her. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you."

She let go and Hank stood, holding out a hand to Angel. He took it slowly, suddenly feeling very nervous. "Welcome to the family, Angel. Such as it is." He paused and sat back down, sipping his drink. "Right. Time for the business, I think."

The voices were only distinguishable to Angel and Buffy at first. Both looked up from the books they had been half reading and then at the ceiling, trying to identify who they belong to. Five minutes later the voices became louder, as four people strode into the apartment.

"Man, I do not want to meet that one on a dark night," Gunn, the first person to come in commented at the rest behind him and the room at large.

"I second that motion wholeheartedly," an English accent agreed, signalling Wesley's arrival.

"Angel man, do you have any whiskey around here?" the last man of the group asked as he and his girlfriend made their way into the room. Causally, the half Bracken set down the book he had been asked to bring and hugged his friend. He then turned to Buffy. "May I have a kiss from the lovely Slayer?"

"Its nice to see you again, Doyle," Buffy replied, hugging him. Turning to her father, she added, "Dad, I'd like you to meet the members of Angel Investigations. Doyle, Cordelia, Wesley, and I believe this must be Gunn," she finished, stepping forward to great the stunned young man. He just managed to regain the sense to take her hand. "I'm Buffy. Angel's told me a lot about you."

"So you're the Slayer," Gunn replied as he shook her hand, smiling. "Angel, you're a lucky man. And I have gotta see you in action some time."

"You will tomorrow, if we're lucky," the Slayer replied, returning to the table. She sat down next to her love, who was already poring through the book. "For now we need to research these Kobash demons."

"Now which ones are these?" Cordelia asked as the four sat around the table.

"Nasty, slimy creatures," her boyfriend replied. "Sent to kill those who create humans with special destinies."

"Hired Assassins then?" Gunn queried the half-Bracken.

"Yep. Anything from telepaths, sixth sensors, and of course Slayers," Doyle confirmed, glancing at Buffy in sympathy. "Thankfully, I believe they're easy to kill."

Wesley looked up from his opened book. "I hate to say this, but who do you think hired them in the first place?"

Angel understood what his friend was thinking and groaned. "I might have known that we wouldn't be able to escape them for long."

"Who?" Buffy asked, before her father could.

"Wolfram and Hart," Wesley replied.

"But I thought you'd put a bomb in their safe to destroy their resources?"

"We had," Angel confirmed, "but that doesn't eliminate their contacts."

"I am so glad we're moving, man," Gunn stated in his usual manner.

"Er, who are Wolfram and Hart?" Hank asked.

"Big corporation of lawyers who work with and for demons in L.A," Buffy summarised.

"Buffy," Cordelia began, "I hate to be the one to mention this, but won't your mom be in the same boat as your dad for this?"

The Slayer groaned. "I'd rather not have to explain to her about these at the moment. She's angry enough with me as it is." She looked at Doyle. "Please tell me they only work on one job at a time."

"They do," Doyle assented. "Not very bright, Kobashes. focused, but stupid. And by the looks of things," he added, glancing at the book in front of him, "not immune to anything, so killing them should be simple."

"Then I suggest we all get some rest and set upon them tomorrow," Angel decided.

His colleagues and friends nodded, rising up from their chairs and departing from the apartment, delivering farewells on their way.

Angel turned to his future father in law. "You're welcome to stay the night. The spare bed's not up much but I believe its comfortable," he remarked.

Hank nodded. "That seems a better prospect than my hotel," he replied, not bothering to contemplate where his daughter would be sleeping. Having only just become a father again, he had no right to object to something that they had already done before and would again after their marriage. Feeling exhausted, he bade them both goodnight and went to the room.

Inside he sat down upon the bed and reflected over the events of the day. What he had been expecting was to be declared insane. What he had got instead had completely bowled him over. To finally understand what his cousin had told him all those years ago was both a relief and a alarm.

His daughter was the slayer. She had been so from the age of fifteen.

Every night she faced death, but by day played out an ordinary life. She about to be married to a man who had only recently become a human being after living as a vampire for two hundred and forty-five years. Looking at these just bare facts, it was frightening knowledge to come to terms with.

But, strangely, that was not the feeling he was experiencing right now. What he felt instead was admiration. This was his daughter. Few children today would have the courage to face what she did every night from the age of fifteen.

The last thing Hank decided before he went to sleep that night was to travel back with them to Sunnydale. He needed to get to know his daughter.

When Hank rose the next morning he found all of the people of Angel Investigations already up and ensconced in the apartment. For a while he did not announce his presence, watching the group instead. He fixed his graze on his daughter's fiancee first.

He was occupied with the hob, cooking what Hank presumed to be breakfast and, judging by the smell, making a excellent job of it. The half human Doyle and his girlfriend Cordelia were in the middle of their meal already, and in conversation, but too far away for him to make out what the subject was. The ex-watcher Wesley still had his nose deep in the book, presumably making sure they were prepared for the fight.

Lastly his gaze fixed on his daughter and became entranced. She was with the youngest man of the group, Gunn, and teaching him the finer points of fighting. At that moment she was demonstrating a technique, and Hank, having never seen his daughter in her calling before, was stunned.

She was a natural already. Every move was graceful, precise and deadly. Even though she had seemed tired of the calling when she was talking to him about it the evening before, he could tell now that she enjoyed it. She looked happy, laughing and joking with the man that was only couple of years older than her.

Hank heard a movement and turned to see that Angel that had been watching the two as well. His gaze surprised Hank, even though he had been prepared for it. It spoke of every emotion related to love, and pride. He was proud of her, of what she had become since their distance. Hank wondered how the two were in a fight. Did they battle as hard against the forces of darkness as they did against the world that disapproved of their love?

He found this to be true as he watched them fight for the first time in the battle later that day. After calmly accepting to act as bait, he had drawn the demons into the circle Angel Investigations had formed and then stayed out of trouble. As a result he watched amazed as he witness two great warriors fight in sync, as though they had always been fighting together.

He realised now that he was grateful for the demons coming after him. A near run with death it may have been, but it had helped him to recognise what was important and brought him closer to his daughter once more.

Hank Summers did follow his daughter and friends back to Sunnydale. He helped to smooth things between her, Angel and Joyce, forging something that, while not resembling at all their previous mother-daughter relationship, was at least close to it.

He was also able to play a part in what eventually became a large corporation of chosen warriors for good, against the evil of the hellmouth. And watch his daughter live to become the most powerful and most successful slayer of them all.

The End.