A/N: Her name is Anya for now, but later on she will be addressed as Hannah.
Disclaimer: I bet if i start singing FRIDAY by Rebecca Black, i won't have to do a disclaimer anymore. I don't own the Night World. Why do we do disclaimers anyway...
Chapter 1: Hannah's end
It could not be happening.
Not this soon...she had only a few years with Thierry. Well, no. She had about thirty years with him; she was only forty-six now, and she looked ten years younger. Maybe it was living with vampires or witches, and maybe the magic made her look younger, but right now her wheat-colored hair was free of silver strands and fell to her waist, and her wise eyes did not look tired, but gentle and maybe strangely peaceful, but this was usual for old souls. She and Thierry though...was it really thirty years ago that she discovered her soulmate? It seemed like only four or so. And even if she lived to be a hundred there would not be enough time...but they had more life times, if he could find her. After all, she was an old soul. And maybe that knowledge was what made her feel so calm when the turnip truck bumped into her blue little ford, a simple thing she had gotten as an eighteenth birthday present. The year Thierry had decided that Hannah was too "natural" to be riding in a tacky limousine, and he asked her what kind of car she wanted, and she chose a simple one. She could've had a jaguar, a silver or hell, even a 911 turbo made of GOLD, solid gold, but she chose this tiny little thing that held four passengers and coughed loudly when it ignited. Now, she wished she had a faster or stronger car, one strong or fast enough to save her from the accident that would end her life. The truck hit the side of hers roughly, and then moved away hazily, only to make a drunk loop back to her own car, hitting her again and shattering her windows. The car flipped over many times, glass cutting into her skin and the groceries she had bought dancing around. But this was not what killed her. It was just that in Las Vegas, driving off the road usually meant driving into a desert, and in this particular part there was a lot of old wood and stone, and so when her car flipped over one last time, it landed on an old, broken tree with spiky, sharp branches jutting out. Her car landed on the broken tree harshly and with force,or enough force to drive one of the branches straight into her body. Not just into her body, but past her body; the other end of the stick peeked out from her back. Everything was fuzzy and gold for a minute; she heared muffled voices and her ears were filled with electricity, a statical buzzing that made the noises called "voice" sound like the way the adults in Snoopy talked; bwonk bwonk bwonk bwonk...nothing made sense. Her vision was confusing, nor dark nor white, nor colorful, just...confusing. And she felt pain, but soon it started fading away, and saw herself, her body. Hannah Snow's body. She saw it as she flew away from it, toward another end, a place where she would be reborn. Hannah Snow looked peaceful, surprised, sad, and thoughtful, but mostly peaceful. Her fine hair was spilled around her like a spill of wheat, and her mouth looked vulnerable. Her eyes were half closed, half open in a dreamy manner, and she was clutching the steering wheel with long, delicate fingers that a ballet dancer would die for. There was the branch's point peeking out from her back, blood staining her blue shirt. She got a glimpse of people surrounding the car, police sirens going off, Lupe crying into her hands, Thea Harman with her head buried into Eric Ross's shoulder, Mary-Lynette Carter staring, wide eyed and disbelieving, at the car...and Thierry. He looked so sad, so lost, they way he had that first night Hannah met him. The light drained from his eyes. Sarah Strange, the gentle, shy willowy wild power kneeled by the car, looking gentle and very sad, mumbling a few soft words as Mal and Karlien stood beside her like guard dogs. But it was Thierry that made her heart ache. He looked so fathomless, so empty...and yet, she was still connected to him, and she used that connection to send him one last message.
goodbye.
It was a weak telepathic thought, very weak and faint, but she knew he had heard her. She could feel his desperation, trying to full her back with the silver cord, but it was too late. Morgead Blackthorn had been able to save Jez Redfern, but Jez hadn't been completely body, half human and half vampire, had been at battle, trying to fight eachother, seeing which side was dominant; vampire wood poison or human resistance to wood. With Morgead there to drag her back, the human side had won out. But Hannah was purely human, and by the time Thierry had been informed of the accident, she was already gone...and then there was darkness, and she was in that same dark room full of mirrors, images of herself in the old times. Hanah of the three rivers, standing still with her gentle and wise, soulful look, wearing a deerskin dress, a bright, red mark on her cheek. Annette, beautiful and loyal, with a paler yet still fresh mark, wearing grand clothes. Ha-nakht, wearing her priestess robes and having her hands clasped in prayer, the red mark only half a shade lighter than Hana's mark...and at the end, fading in slowly, Hannah Snow, the birth mark now a pale, rose pink on her cheek, like a spot of smeared blush, looking almost exactly like Hanah of the three rivers, but older than any of the other images; a woman, wise and happy, wearing a blue button up and jeans, with a wedding finger on her left hand, looking whole and...accomplished, something only Hana of the three rivers looked. Hana and Hannah, her only two lives where Thierry had been the good guy...her soulmate...she hoped she would remember him more in her next life...and then another image appeared, after Hannah Snow. The girl looked only slightly different than Hannah Snow; her hair was a little darker and fell to her elbows in waves, her eyes wide and vacant, high cheek bones. She looked more like a drawing, though a vivid one, like a doll not come to life yet. A sculpture. And slowly, Hannah felt herself- her spirit- draw closer to the new image, and as she got closer, she forgot things. Forgot the name Hannah Snow, forgot Ket...forgot Hana...forgot Anette, Ha-nakht, forgot the Night World...forgot music, forgot Chess, forgot Circle Daybreak...and soon her memory was almost blank, and the last thing she forgot was Thierry. But she did not forget him, or anything. It was still there, but hidden by thick, white fog, a fog only someone could uncover...who? who was she? what was happening...she felt herself enter the body of the girl in front of her, and the fog got thicker, and everything was gone.
She was no longer Hannah Snow.
So. School. Sarah Michelle Gellar. Who else is obsessed with Buffy? I like Willow too. But i don't know whether to pick Oz or Tara...you tell me. Woz or Twillow? Don't be homophobic...just pick one.