This time Anne dreamed of something that Giles hadn't even written about in his journal.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Anne jumped, forcing herself to sit up. "What the hell was that?" she whispered to herself, running her fingers through her hair. There had been nothing like that written in Giles' journal, yet these dreams seemed so realistic, as if being with Spike was the way it was meant to be. Anne took another deep breath, trying to slow her rapidly beating heart in order to keep herself from shaking. A light layer of perspiration covered her skin, and she wiped her forehead off, her breathing becoming more even and slow-paced. It wasn't every day that you had to go through your death three times in a row.

Anne had millions of questions running around her head, but she didn't have any answers. But the memories were still fresh in her mind. *Now* was the time to act if she hoped to get any answers at all.

She climbed out of bed and threw on some comfortable clothes. She crossed the main room and grabbed the faded photo off of her kitchen counter and picked up the journal from the table.

A second later, Anne burst into Andrew's apartment, a look of wild confusion and determination etched on her face. Andrew was seated at his dining room table, a cup of tea in his hand and the newspaper spread out in front of him.

"You!" Anne said demandingly, pointing a finger at him.

"And good morning to you, also," Andrew said sarcastically, setting the cup back on the table.

"Tell me what the hell is going on," Anne said, striding across the room and closer to him. "I need answers now."

"With what?"

Anne threw down the faded photo on the table in front of him. She placed the journal next to it before speaking. "This!"

"Oh...that," Andrew replied with a sigh.

"What is *that*, Andrew?" Anne asked loudly. "Wait, hold on. I'll tell you what it is. Andrew, it’s Buffy!"

Andrew paused, not having expected this subject to come up so suddenly. "And?"

"And? That's all you're going to say is 'and'? I read Giles' journal, and then, I had these dreams. Andrew, there were things in these dreams that I couldn't have possibly known about. There was so much...Giles didn't even write about them."

"Dreams?" Andrew asked curiosity getting the best of him.

"Yes, dreams," Anne replied. "I...I dreamed about Buffy and Spike...what happened between the two of them."

"Over-active imagination?" Andrew questioned.

"No! Andrew, I'm serious. There were...things...things that I couldn't have known about." She looked at him with worry in her eyes. "Andrew, what's going on? What's happening?"

"Anne, I'm as much in the dark about this as you are," Andrew continued with a slight hesitation in his voice. "I would recommend that you go speak to Spike about all of this. After all, he was around her quite a bit."

<That's no lie,> Anne thought, thinking about to all the dreams she had of him. "Spike?" She asked aloud, her face paling. "I can't do that."

"If that's the only way to get any answers, I know that you'll do it," Andrew replied.

Anne scowled, knowing that he was right. "Whatever," she said softly. She picked up the faded photo of Buffy and turned on her heels, quickly leaving Andrew's apartment. She needed time to think before she just walked over to Spike's apartment.

Andrew paused, listening to Anne's rapidly retreating footsteps. He closed the newspaper and pulled out a small, very worn book from where he'd placed it in his lap. He opened up to a page in the back, his eyes searching out for any word that could jump out at him as being related to his slayer.

"Memories lost...," his eyes trailed over the printed words. <Oh dear,> he thought as his eyes continued reading. "Oh...bloody hell."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The rest of the day passed before Anne gave in and decided to go see Spike. Although she didn't know what she was going to say and how she was going to treat him, she knew that she just needed to see him. Maybe there was the chance that she could at least get some answers from him even though they had parted on bad terms. She approached the front door, her hand raised to knock, when she heard voices speak.

"Are you sure, mate?"

<Spike,> Anne thought, unrecognizable feelings rushing throughout her.

"Yes, I'm positive," another voice replied.

<Andrew...> Anne told herself. She climbed off the porch and walked over to the living room window, hoping she could see the two of them. She crouched down and slowly raised her head to gaze into the window. Spike and Andrew were standing in the middle of the room. Andrew held an open book in his hand as the two argued back and forth.

"You're wrong," Spike said firmly.

"The Codex is never wrong, Spike," Andrew insisted. "It was right about Buffy dying at the hands of the master, and that was over one hundred years ago."

"Look at it again," Spike commanded.

Andrew began speaking, reciting the verse to the vampire.

"Could they have made it any *more* vague?" Spike asked in annoyance. He shook his head, feeling positive that the "darkness" was referring to himself.

"Anne is...she will become Buffy," Andrew said without any uncertainty in his tone.

And there it was. Anne was never meant to be here. Her whole life had been meant for Buffy, not her. She was just the vessel, just a stupid body that Buffy would eventually take over. Anne crouched down to the ground, not wanting to hear any more of their conversation.

"This is bull," Spike protested. "If anyone deserved eternal peace, its Buffy. She said that she didn't want to be brought back...I promised her that I wouldn't bring her back."

"Look, it's a prophecy. There is nothing that you can even do about it. Maybe there is way to prevent it from happening right *now*, but it will eventually occur. You can't stop this."

"And are you even the slightest bit concerned with what those so-called 'obstacles' are?" Spike asked, looking up at Andrew.

"Of course I am," Andrew retorted. "But if she is truly Buffy Summers, she should be able to defeat anything. It will be her test."

"Don't you even care?" Spike raised his voice. "You're just like all the rest of the watchers over there in bloody ol' England. The Slayer isn't a person to you all; she's a damn tool!"

"That's not true anymore," Andrew replied angrily, taking a step towards Spike. "And you should be glad that you're allowed to even work with her. I could have staked you on the spot, but I allowed you to work with her."

Spike growled. What had started out as a simple conversation about what was happening to Anne quickly grew into a loud argument between Watchers and vampires. "Get out," he said brusquely.

"My pleasure," Andrew replied curtly, snapping the book closed and heading towards the door.

Anne waited outside, cowering behind the bushes as she listened to Andrew close the front door and walk down the steps. She slowly stood up when she was sure that Andrew was far away and hurried up the stairs, wondering if she should knock or simply barge in. Finally, she lightly tapped on the door.

"I told you to get out!" Spike yelled through the door.

"I...uh, it's me," Anne said.

Spike opened the door, a look of utter shock on his face. <Bloody hell, didn't expect to see her back here anytime soon.> "Hey," he said, a smile appearing on his face.

"Hi, can I come in?" she asked.

"Sure."

Once inside, Anne turned around and faced him, a serious expression on her face. "Look...uh, last time I was here, I said some pretty harsh things to you."

"And I deserved it," Spike said, not wanting Anne to blame herself.

"No...I pretty much yelled at you, and you stood there taking it all," Anne continued. "And...I'm sorry, for saying those things. I shouldn't have said all that stuff about Buffy."

"It's all right," Spike said quietly.

"No, I think that this is pretty far from being 'all right', but it'll do," Anne replied. She pulled out the photo from her pocket and held it out to him. "Guess I should give this back to you."

Spike reached out and silently took Buffy’s picture, placing it in his jeans pocket. Spike stared at the floor for a second, not really knowing what to say. "So was that all?" he asked, glancing back up at her.

"I guess it was," Anne said regretfully as she started walking back to the front door. Spike reached for the doorknob to open the door for Anne at the same time she reached to open the door for herself. Their fingertips touched; their hands made contact, and that was all they needed. Acting purely on instinct, Anne threw herself into Spike's arms. An eerie deja vu feeling passed over her, but Anne pushed it to the back of her mind.

Spike was surprised by Anne's sudden motion, but he wasn't stupid. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her towards his body. The two stood in the hallway, hands running through each other's hair, fingers running over bare skin. They paused only to allow Anne to gasp for another breath. "Spike..." Anne whimpered, enfolding her arms around his neck and standing on her toes to reach him.

"Buffy..." Spike whispered before he could catch himself.

Anne pulled back and stared at him as Spike mentally prepared himself to be punched in the nose. Instead, she raised her face and placed a kiss in the hollow of his neck before moving upward and kissing him on the lips. "Come on," she whispered, taking his hand and beginning to lead him back to his room.

Once in his room, Anne pulled Spike closer to her, spreading wet, warm kisses on his face. "Anne...what are we-"

"Shh," she replied, covering his mouth with her own for an instant. "Call me Buffy," she whispered.

Anne pulled Spike onto the bed beside her and laced her arms around him, easing herself onto his lap. "God, Buffy..." Spike murmured. The couple fell back onto the bed and, very quickly, the two were lost within each other.

~~~

Anne opened her eyes but was forced to close them when a bright light suddenly popped on in front of her. She squinted at her surroundings, not noticing anything familiar. <Great, just what I need, another dream,> she thought. <Just perfect.> "Hello?" she asked uncertainly.

"Welcome," a warm voice called out.

The lights quickly dimmed and Anne looked forward to find herself staring at...herself? "Bu...Buffy?" she asked with hesitation in her tone.

"You guessed right!" she replied, taking a step towards Anne. "I thought that now was a really good time to try and talk to you since...well, I know what's going on with you and Spike. I had to talk to you about the two of you."

Anne rolled her eyes -- this was not what she needed -- her inner subconscious giving her a memory pep talk. "Look, I know how to handle Spike."

"Do you?" Buffy turned sideways and moved her right hand around in a circle at her side. A cloud appeared when her hand circled over the white surface, and an image of Spike and Anne appeared. The two were sleeping on their sides, a look of serenity and calmness on both of their faces. "Seems like I got to you just in the nick of time," Buffy commented. She stared at Spike, sighing when she remembered her own time with him.

"Do we have to keep watching this?" Anne asked uncomfortably, unable to remover her gaze from the image of Spike and herself.

The two watched as Spike lifted his head and placed a light kiss on Anne's neck before falling back to sleep. "It's amazing. Even after a hundred years, he's still in love with you," Buffy stated matter-of-factly.

"He's in love with *you*, not me," Anne corrected her.

"But you are me."

"No, I'm not!" Anne cried out.

"Yes, in a way you are," Buffy replied, drawing closer to Anne. "I know you've been dreaming about my life; I needed you to see. I'm inside of you, Anne. I'm buried deep inside of your subconscious, screaming to get out."

"But I don't want it!" Anne protested. "It's bad enough that I'm the Slayer that everyone is calling the next Buffy Summers. I've got live up to your legacy. I've got all that to worry about, and then...then Spike comes into the picture."

"And?"

"And I don't want it!" Anne cried out again. "I don't want this. I want *my* life, a life without these complications."

"Let me tell you this, at least. He and I only got one month to fully be together...well, without all the angst, the secrets, and the shame," Buffy said, regret filling her voice. "You have the chance to be together longer, forever, because he won't leave you."

Anne stared incredulously at her, trying to draw up past dreams and memories to figure out what Buffy was talking about. "Like Angel left you? Like...that other guy?"

"Yeah, Spike is pretty devoted," Buffy said with a smile on her face. "I think he's referred to himself as 'love's bitch' numerous times."

Anne smiled. "I don't know...this is all so weird. I feel so...so attracted to him. It's like I literally can't fight it."

"Then, don't," Buffy replied as if it were as simple as that.

"That easy, huh?" Anne asked her.

Buffy nodded, hoping what she was telling Anne would sink in. "Do you still not want this?"

"I don't know...maybe. Maybe I can try to understand all of this," Anne started to say. "Maybe as long as he's around, I think that I can get through this."

"You sure will; I'm sure of it," Buffy said confidently. "Ready to start?" She raised her hand and kissed her fingertips before reaching out and laying her fingers on Anne's forehead.

~~~

Spike and Anne entered Andrew's apartment, standing as far apart from each other as they possibly could. Wilona and Alex were sitting at Andrew's table while Andrew paced around with a book in his hand.

"Ahh, the two of you are here," Andrew said. "It's about time."

"Well, we would have been here sooner, but since Spike is allergic to the sun, we had to get the blanket and run," Anne said, rolling her eyes over to Spike.

"Well, excuse me love...sorry my being a vampire slowed you down," Spike growled back at her.

Anne ignored him and walked over to the table, sliding off her jacket and sitting down. "What's the deal here, Andrew?"

"Well, I was researching Giles' old journals last night when he started talking about how the Watcher's Council was always out to get Buffy," Andrew informed the tense pair. "The prophecy reads:

"I think that with this prophecy, it could relate to the watchers. Spike?"

"Well, they were never fond of Buffy, that's true," Spike said thoughtfully, "And since Anne *is* Buffy, they are obviously not going to like her." He rolled his eyes and smirked at her.

"I'm *not* Buffy!" Anne hissed with irritation, shooting a burning glare at Spike. "I don't care how many times you say that name; I am not her."

Wilona looked over at Alex with worry in her eyes. "What are they talking about?" Alex shrugged but looked back at the two, enjoying the show.

"I mean, can't you just drop it!" Anne said, throwing her hands in the air. "The only reason that I'm so...so mixed up right now is you!"

"So what? You want me to leave? I'm here whether you like it or not, Slayer, and I'm here to stay. I was sent here to protect you, and I'm not going to break that promise. I don't care whether-"

"Spike! Shut up!" Anne said loudly.

"Should we...uh, stop them?" Wilona whispered over to Alex.

"How?" he wondered.

"Make me!" Spike shouted, standing to his feet and facing her, a look of anger and pure hatred on his expression. <God, make this end,> Spike was inwardly thinking. He didn't want to be fighting with her. No, he wanted to apologize for everything that he had said this morning at his apartment and on the way to Andrew's apartment.

Anne looked at up him, preparing to say something else. Instead, she bit her lower lip and crossed her arms, turning her head and refusing to look him the eye. <Why does he have to just provoke me to yell at him even more?> she asked herself, not wanting to fight with Spike. Tears welled in her eyes, and Anne fought to keep them down. "Spike, just be quiet," she said softly.

Spike saw the threatening tears and softened, following her command. He sat down and signaled Andrew to continue.

Andrew glanced back from Anne and then to Spike. "As I was saying...I think that the Watchers could be planning something to get Anne out of the way and keep the prophecy from ever happening." He closed the book that he was holding and peered over his glasses at the group. "I tried to call the Watchers and didn't get any response, so I can't confirm this, but something is wrong."

"So what do we do, Andrew?" Wilona asked.

"I'm not sure; all I know is that we have to be prepared for anything," Andrew said wearily. "Spike, I want you and Anne to go downstairs and train."

Spike glanced nervously between Anne and Andrew. "Uh, I'm not sure that's the best idea, mate."

"I don't care!" Andrew said. "I want you two to take whatever...problems that you have and just get over them for right now, do you two understand?"

"Yes," the slayer and vampire both responded at the same time. "Come on, Spike," Anne said, rising to her feet. "Let's go."

Spike closed the door behind the two of them after they went into the training room. Spike kept his distance from Anne, not sure if they should be in the same room with each other. He turned around and saw Anne walk over to the hurdle. She leaned her elbows on top of the hurdle and shed quiet tears, placing her head in her hands.

"Anne?" Spike asked, taking a step towards her. "Anne?" No reply once again. "...Buffy?"

"Hmm?" she asked, straightening up. "Oh...don't call me that."

"Okay, fine," Spike replied.

"I hate you," Anne said bitterly. "If you had never come here, everything would still be the same. But you had to come to my town and screw everything up."

"I didn't have a choice," Spike said.

"I know," Anne started. "And now...all those dreams are invading my mind. I can't get them out of my head."

"Dreams?"

"Yeah...I've been having dreams. They're of you and Buffy. What you two did, how she died, what you did to her...she did to you, I watched it all play out," Anne said, sighing. "But that doesn't make it any easier."

"I'm sorry," Spike said honestly.

"I know, but...God, I wish that you had never come here."

"Well, I'm still sorry," Spike said slowly, his heart going out to her. He never meant to hurt her feelings; hell, he was against this from the very beginning. The only reason he even thought about going was that Buffy told him to.

Anne sank heavily onto the love seat across the room. "I just don't know..."

"Don't know what?" Spike asked, following her and sitting down beside her.

"I don't know who I am anymore," Anne admitted. "Am I Buffy? Anne? Who?"

"You're...you," Spike said. "You're the woman that I fell in love with one hundred years ago...the woman that I *am* falling in love with all over again."

Anne looked over at him with disbelief in her eyes. "You love me?"

"I've always loved you."

"You love Buffy," Anne corrected him.

"Wrong...it's *you*." Spike said. "The same, vibrant Slayer. It doesn't matter what name you go by; it's your *soul* that I love."

A tear slowly dropped down Anne's cheek. "God, how can you love me after this morning?"

"I just do."

"I should have..." Anne started, not really knowing how she could even begin to make it right. "I could have been nicer, I should have *not* acted like Buffy did to you that time."

"I wasn't really expecting anything else though," Spike said, smiling at her. "I mean, that's how you treated me for the majority of our time together, so why should I have expected anything else?"

"But still...I was acting on the memories I had of you and Buffy, not the way that I *really* feel for you. I just didn't want to deal with anything right then," Anne said. She remembered everything that Buffy had told her, everything that she had seen, but she still didn't want to admit that she was Buffy Summers, not Anne Winters. "I don't want to deal with this right now...God, I don't want to."

"Well, if you need more time to deal...I can wait," Spike said without hesitation.

"Really?" Spike nodded. "Thank you," she said, trying to show him that she was sincere with her eyes.

Anne leaned over and gently kissed him. When she pulled back to end the kiss, Spike's hand came out and rested against the back of her head, stopping her from pulling away. Anne scooted closer to Spike, wrapping her arms around his neck as she straightened up to return her kiss. "God, Buffy," Spike muttered, pausing to allow Anne to take a gasp of air before pressing his lips against hers once more.

To their right, the training room door opened. Anne and Spike heard a high-pitch squeal and they quickly jumped apart, guilty looks on both of their faces. Wilona stood in the doorway, a stunned expression on her face.

"Uh...uh..." she stammered, her mouth dropping open.

Anne took a deep breath to calm herself and ran her fingers through her hair. "Wilona!" she said, standing up. "What...uh, what did you want?"

"Uh...Andrew...he wants you two back upstairs," Wilona said slowly.

Spike rose and the two of them started walking towards the doorway. Spike ran his hand down Anne's back, giving her a comforting pat, before moving ahead and climbing the stairs. Wilona gave Anne a "Details now!" look, to which Anne replied with a "Later" expression.

Anne was traveling to Spike's apartment, planning on telling him some things that she figured out. She was finally ready to start facing her past and her future, just as long as he had him by her side to help her get through it.

She approached the steps. She knocked on the door, which Spike automatically answered. "Hey!" she greeted, stepping forward and pressing a kiss against his face.

"Anne...hi," Spike replied, slightly surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"What? Not glad to see me?"

"No, delighted, love...just curious.”

"Well, I know that we need to...uh, talk, and I thought that now would be a good time," Anne stated her reason for being there. She and Spike entered the living room and sat down on the couch.

"So, what do we need to talk about?" Spike asked curiously.

"Well, I was thinking that maybe you could tell me some things about Buffy...you know, what she did, what she was-" her voice was cut off by a loud banging on the door. "Expecting company?" she asked.

Suddenly the door burst open. Three men, all dressed in leather jackets, walked through the doorway. Two were carrying crossbows, and the other was armed with a stake and cross.

"What the hell?" Spike asked, rising to his feet.

"We were sent here to take you out," one of the men said in a British accent. He pulled the trigger on the crossbow, which Spike barely managed to avoid by ducking. The arrow shot past him and plunged into the wall.

"Blood hell," Spike cursed under his breath. "Get out of my house," he demanded when he stood back up.

"Well, we're taking you with us," one of the other men growled, also pulling the trigger. Spike dodged, but the arrow lodged in his shoulder. Spike cursed and pulled the arrow out, clutching his shoulder.

"Spike!" Anne shouted, rushing towards him. "You!" she said, looking at the three men, anger in her eyes.

"We weren't here to deal with you, missy," the man who was holding the cross and stake commented. "We just want the vampire, and then, we'll be outta your way."

"I don't think so," Anne retorted. "Get out!" She ran toward the men, punching and kicking...doing anything she could to get them out of the house and keep Spike safe. Two of the men were already outside. The third man, possibly the leader, slammed his fist into Anne's face, pushing her backwards.

"We'll be back, girlie," he said, sneering in her face before turning around and fleeing into the night. Anne watched the men run, listening as one yelled, "Bugger! The bloody Slayer wasn't suppose to be there!"

Anne left the door open and rushed over to where Spike was laying. She bent down on her knees and hugged Spike, knocking his back to the floor and kissing him on the lips. "God, I almost lost you!" she said, tears falling down her face. "I could have lost you, Spike."

"It's okay, love, I'm here."

"No...but they, they wanted to kill you," Anne said hoarsely. "I can't lose you, Spike...You're the only one that can help me figure out who I really am."

"It'll be all right," Spike reassured, running his hand through her hair.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'll live," Spike said, smirking at the irony of what he had said.

Anne stood back from Spike, gazing in the direction that the three men had run off. "They were British," she noted. "They were watchers."

"I know."

"That means that they really want me out of the picture," Anne said with some disbelief. "They think that I'm turning into Buffy, so if they get you out of the way, they can end the prophecy."

"I think that's the gist of it."

"Then we've got to end it...we've got to end this, *now*," Anne said with a commanding tone.

<That's my girl,> Spike thought, proud of how she was dealing with this. "I know," he said, placing a light kiss on her temple. "We should tell Andrew about this." <And we should talk about whatever is going on between us. I won't let the same thing happen that happened between Buffy and me.>

"I know." She leaned over and kissed him on his cheek. "But...later?" she asked, pressing another kiss on his lips.

Spike sighed and kissed Anne, leaving her gasping for more breath and another kiss. "Yeah, much later," he replied.

Almost a whole week had passed before Anne worked up enough courage to visit Spike's apartment again. As she approached the doorstep, she mentally ran over what she was going to say and how she was going to say it. The last time she had been over at his place, they had simply slept together again. They had never gotten to actually talk about what was going on between the two of them. Hopefully tonight, she'd be able to sit down and talk with him.

Anne walked up the steps and knocked on the door. When her knuckles hit the door, the door swung open very slowly. Anne looked down at the doorknob and saw that it had been broken. "Spike?" she called, taking a step inside the house.

"Spike!" she shouted again when she saw the mess that lay before her. Shelves had been broken, the couch cushions were thrown around the room, the lamp lay broken on the floor, and books were scattered everywhere. Worst of all -- no sign of Spike. "Spike!" Anne repeated.

She took a deep breath, grabbing onto her hair and pulling. <Oh God, he's not here.> She left his apartment in a jog.

Sunnydale wasn't huge, but she didn't even know where to begin searching for him, if he was even in town anymore. She turned down the sidewalk bound for another part of town. Maybe there were some demons that she could beat up who would give her answers about what was going on. She needed answers...needed Spike.

Anne strode quickly down the main street, glancing around and down the alleys where she might find any vampires or demons. To her left, she heard sounds of something scrambling around. She turned down an alley and walked cautiously to the end of it, looking around. Suddenly, four men jumped out of the shadows, holding out primitive weapons. Anne grabbed two of them and pushed them back into the other two. She lashed out and punched one, kicked him in the face, and shoved him back onto the concrete.

She continued fighting, and very soon three of the men were on the ground unconscious. "Stop!" the final man shouted. He pulled out a gun -- a very expensive, automatic weapon.

Anne froze, not wanting to get shot. She couldn't find Spike if she was dead; that much she knew. "Stopped."

"Well, that was uncalled for."

"Yeah? But it was fun," Anne replied in a Buffy-like tone of voice.

"You're the Slayer, I'm assuming," he said, moving closer to her.

"What gave you the first hint?" Anne asked him.

"If you want to see the vampire again, you're going to have to play things our way. Do you understand?"

"Where is he? Take me to him," Anne ordered. The man turned on his heels and guided her to the end of the alley. "And for your sake, he better be alive."

Anne was led into a dark, rusted warehouse. The man who had brought her here continued walking into the room and knocked on the door. "In here," he said gruffly.

Anne entered the room and blinked, allowing her eyes to adjust to the light. "Spike!" she cried out when she saw him chained to the ceiling of the warehouse. He was barely conscious. Spikes were sticking out of his side and his face had been beaten. Three men stood around him, one holding a poker and another cracking his knuckles as they paced around Spike. The other man was standing in front of Spike with his back turned to Anne.

"Stop! Right there!" the man from the alley said firmly, holding out the gun. "I didn't say you could touch him." He turned to the man who wasn't doing anything to hurt Spike. "Mr. Travers, we're ready."

"Travers?" Anne asked. Instantly, a flash went through her mind. Memories of Buffy dealing with Quentin Travers came rushing back to her.

*****

<Don't trust him; whatever he says,> Anne told herself as she started at the man who was the spitting image of Quentin Travers. "Why are you doing this?"

"Ahh, Miss Winters," Mr. Travers began, "Or should I call you Miss Summers? Are we that far along yet?"

"Let him go," Anne said forcefully.

"I don't think so," Travers said. Anne took a step towards Spike. The man who held the gun raised the barrel toward her, forcing Anne to stop moving.

"Then, what are you going to do with him?"

"Kill him, Miss Winters," Travers said calmly. "We have to kill him to end the prophecy."

"Then, you're too late anyway. The prophecy has already started," Anne said, trying to convince him to not kill Spike.

"And we will end it,” he stated. "We must."

"No, I already have the memories of everything," Anne continued her argument. She had all the memories of Spike, everything that they had done together. "All the memories that I need, I've got."

Travers looked at her in surprise and then back at Spike. "Then why do you need the vampire?"

"Because I do. I...I need him, I just do," Anne admitted. <There, do you hear me, Spike? I need you!> She looked behind Travers and watched as Spike slowly lifted his head and squinted at her. He cracked a small, painful smile that Anne couldn't help but quickly return.

Another memory flashed through her mind...Buffy acting so powerful, commanding the watchers around, when it was supposed to be the other way around.

Anne walked up to Travers and looked him defiantly in the eye. "That means that I want you *out*. I want you out of this town. I want out of *my* town...this state. I want you and your crew out of this country, and I never want to see you again. You can't stop this, and I don't want you to. There isn't a thing you can do about it."

Travers stared back at her before backing away. "I see. Well, now I know that you are Miss Summers."

"Are you understanding me?" Anne asked him.

"Yes. Yes, Miss Winters, I understand," Travers said, backing down.

Anne sighed, relief clear in her motions. She wasn't sure if they would be gone for good; in fact, there was a good chance that they would be back sometime soon to cause even more trouble. However, at least they were gone for now. And finally, she could deal with Spike. She ran up to him and loosened the chains, dropping him slowly to the floor.

"Bu...Buffy?" Spike called out slowly.

"Yeah, it's Buffy," Anne replied, kissing his forehead. "I'm going to get you out of here, I just need to...get those pokers out of your chest." She pulled out the two pokers, flinching when Spike screamed out in pain. "Let me get you home," she whispered.

Spike chuckled when a thought went through his mind. "You need me?" he asked, gazing at her with questions in his eyes.

Anne smiled and kissed his cheek. "Of course, I need you." She peered up at Travers with a gleam in her eye. "See? The prophecy has already happened; there was nothing you could have done anyway."

Travers paused and looked down at the blonde woman. "Actually...the prophecy hasn't been completed yet."

Anne rose to her feet and stared at the Watcher. "What do you mean? I have my memories back and managed to keep Spike away from you guys. Isn't that all?" Anne questioned.

"Not even. We weren't even a part of the prophecy." Travers said cockily.

"What?" Anne asked, confusion clear on her face. "Oh...crap."

~~~

Regaining Memories -- Part 9

"We have a problem!" Anne said as she hurried through the doorway into Andrew's apartment.

"Anne!" Wilona and Alex called, standing and approaching their friend. "What happened?"

"Where's Spike?" Wilona asked.

"He's upstairs, sleeping in my apartment," Anne explained, trying not to smile or blush. "Those damn watchers tortured him...god, I hate them all." Andrew came through the doorway, clearing his throat. "Oh, present company excluded, of course."

"Naturally," Andrew said. "Now...what was this problem?"

"The watchers, they weren't part of the prophecy, Andrew," Anne explained. "Travers just came here to stop me from getting my memories; they had no part of this."

"Oh dear," Andrew said, rubbing his forehead. "Then...what is?"

"The end of the world…that's what Travers told me," Anne revealed.

"Again?!" Wilona and Alex yelled in surprise.

"Travers told me that there was something that would try to re-open the Hellmouth. Andrew, can they really do that?" Anne asked. Years ago, decades before Anne had been called, a slayer and a small group of friends had managed to permanently close the hellmouth. "I thought it was deactivated."

"Well, truthfully...so did I," Andrew admitted.

"What do we do?" Wilona asked in concern.

"Well...surprisingly enough, it's going to have to start with --" Andrew's voice was suddenly cut off when the ground beneath them started to shake. Andrew dropped the book he was holding and managed to stumble toward the three people standing in the middle of the room. "Hurry! In between a doorway!" he commanded.

Anne, Alex, and Wilona followed Andrew's orders and waited until the rumbling passed. "Wow...," Alex started after the shaking ended. "What do you think that was? A 3.4?"

Wilona took a nervous step away from the doorway where she had been standing. "Wow...that was my first major earthquake."

"That wasn't an earthquake," Anne said softly, when she remembered Buffy having a very similar experience.

"What?" Andrew asked. "Anne?"

"That...that was the hellmouth reopening."

"What? How do you know that?" Andrew asked her.

"I just know," she answered him seriously. "All right...we need to stop it from opening completely," she said in a commanding tone.

"How?" Alex asked. "We don't even know where the hellmouth is located anymore!"

"I know where it is," Anne stated. "It's where Sunnydale High School used to be..." everyone looked at her with blank stares. "The -- the high school back in 1999." <Again, with the blank stares,> she thought.

"What are you talking about, Anne?" Alex questioned her.

"It's where the middle school is," Anne said. "The high school got blown up and they rebuilt the middle school there."

"Oooh," replied the group.

"The hellmouth was located in the library and..." Anne's voice died off as she started walking over to Andrew's desk. She opened the cabinet and pulled out Giles' journal. She opened the book and flipped through several pages, her eyes skimming over the words and pictures before she stopped. Anne flattened out the page and stared at the layout of the school, a star located on the mouth of hell.

"Wil," she started. "I need blueprints of the current school," Anne said.

Wilona walked over to Andrew's table and turned on her laptop. "Okay," she said.

Anne walked up to her and lay the book next to the computer. "I want to find out where the library would be today if the school was still standing."

"All right," Wilona said, her fingers flying over the keys as she broke through the city's codes.

"Hurry, Wil...hurry," Buffy chanted underneath her breath.

"Here!" Wilona exclaimed. "Here are the blueprints."

Buffy looked down at Giles' book and his scratchy writing, and then back up to the computer screen, trying to figure out where they matched up. "There," she said, laying her finger on the screen. "I think it's going to open there."

"So...what's going to happen if the hellmouth opens? Anyone know?" Alex asked as he followed Anne, Andrew, and Wilona through the building. They were walking through Sunnydale Middle School, the grounds where the high school had once stood before Buffy blew it up.

"I do," Anne said in a soft, yet commanding tone.

"Yes, you seem to know what's going on better than I do," Andrew observed. "How is that exactly?"

"I'll tell everyone later," Anne stated.

"Maybe we should have brought Spike," Wilona suggested.

"Spike is in no condition to fight," Anne said. "I can't have him fighting if he's going to be a liability." <I need him safe,> she told herself. "Besides, I can handle it."

The gang rounded a corner and followed Anne as she walked through several different hallways. The blueprints had suggested that the hellmouth now rested underneath the cafeteria. Anne just hoped that Giles knew what he was doing when he drew the layout of the high school. "I think that there should be about...three demons trying to do this ritual thing."

"And....*how* do we know these things?" Alex asked.

"I'll explain everything...if we get through this," Anne said, looking around the corner. She stopped walking, frozen when she saw the demon standing on the floor. She looked past the demon and her mouth dropped open when she saw the huge crack in the floor, steam and sounds rising out of it.

Behind her, Wilona gasped as Alex whispered, "Nope, just one *really* big demon!"

The ground started shaking beneath their feet again and the gang grabbed onto the wall for support to keep themselves from falling. Anne watched the crack widen even more as the demon dropped something into the slit. Suddenly, a monster with three heads began rising out of the hellmouth, slime falling off its skin, and Anne knew that was just the beginning.

The ground started shaking beneath their feet again, and the gang grabbed onto the wall for support to keep themselves from falling. "We have to do this *now*!" Anne cried out. With that said, she pulled out the sword that had been sheathed in her belt and hidden inside her jacket. "Back me up, but don't get too close," she explained to her friends and watcher. And after saying that, she dashed into the room, prepared to do battle.

Regaining Memories -- Epilogue

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The demons had been killed with great teamwork. Anne finally killed the demon that opened the hellmouth by cutting off its head. The hellmouth hadn't been fully opened yet, thank God, and the three-headed demon was the only thing that managed to get out, another demon that Anne swiftly executed. Andrew and Wilona performed a simple spell that resealed the hellmouth, hopefully making it more difficult to open in future years.

The watchers hadn't been seen in town since that one night, and the gang thought that they could finally relax a little bit.

A couple of nights later, Alex, Wilona, Anne, and Spike all gathered at the Golden Stake. Alex and Wilona were dancing out on the dance floor. Their plan was to leave Anne and Spike alone so they could talk everything out. Hopefully, their plan would also allow everything between the two of them to return to normal. Of course, that would never happen if neither one of them started up a conversation!

Anne glanced over at Spike, watching him drink his beer. <He looks so normal, just like he belongs here,> she thought in amazement.

"I still can't believe it," Spike said.

"What?" Anne asked, having not heard what he said since she was too lost in her thoughts.

"I can't believe that the one chance I would have had to kick some demon ass, and I was bleeding all over your couch like a nancy boy," Spike said partly out of disappointment. "I should have been out there helping you."

"Well, you helped me train for it," Anne reminded him. "I definitely did *not* 'leave my left side open for any nasties' this time," she said, imitating Spike's accent.

"That is a horrible accent, love," Spike said, smirking at her. Their conversation stopped for a second because they didn’t really know what else to say to each other.

"Hey," Anne said over to him softly, drinking in his eyes.

Spike returned her look, asking, "Yes?"

"Do you want to dance?" Anne asked. Spike didn't even reply -- he didn't need to. Instead, he extended his hand and took hers. The two headed onto the dance floor and then faced each other. Spike rested his hands on her waist as the two swayed back and forth to the slow beats.

The two stood there together, holding each other, for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Anne breathed in his scent and took a small step back. "I have something that I have to tell you now."

Spike gazed down at her in love. "What's that, love?"

"I think I've figured everything out," Anne said.

"And that is?"

"I...I think I get it now," Anne started, looking at him in the eyes. "I'm Anne, the current slayer who can kick ass better than anyone, but...but I'm Buffy. Her soul, her *essence*, is inside of me. I *am* her, and I can deal with that now. The only...the *only* person who has been constantly there for me, is...it's you, Spike."

Spike let out a small smile, not believing what she was saying. Finally, she was beginning to deal with this instead of simply ignoring it. "So, I guess you're ready to deal now, huh, Anne?" he asked, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

Anne paused, considering what she was going to say next. "Can you..." she hesitated, stopped, and began again, this time more forcefully. "I want you…I want *everyone* to call me Buffy. I am Buffy." Both of them smiled at that.

"Okay...Buffy," Spike said. It felt like such a relief to finally be able to say her name again without his heart aching and the memories of his failures rushing back to him.

"And I have to tell you something. It's something that I've been trying to say for one hundred years, and I need to let you know," Anne said, taking a small step toward Spike, pressing her body against his. "I love you."

Spike froze, looking at her in amazement. "Say it again."

Buffy smiled. "Spike, I love you."

Spike picked her up and spun her around on the floor, raining kisses all over her face. "And that's all I need pet, that's all I need for the rest of my life."

~~~~~