"We don't know if you're actually better. I mean, you came into the world with certain advantages, sure. I mean, that's the legacy.: But you didn't earn it. You didn't work for it. You've never had anybody come up to you and say you deserve these things more than anyone else. They were just handed to you. So that doesn't make you better than us. It makes you luckier than us."

-Anya

Chapter 2

Sunnydale. She had nearly jumped when she had heard the name. Her mother had told her they were moving, away from L.A. and all the problems. After The Night (as she called it now) she had adamantly refused to say vampires had been the reason she had burned down the gym. Instead she concocted some story that made her out to be a ditsy blond going through a 'phase'. She'd gotten off with community service, it hadn't saved her parents marriage. Part of that was her fault, she knew. She spent her days picking up trash around the city, going to the library and drowning herself in books that spanned the occult, mythology, and anything that seemed even the slightest bit supernatural or otherworldly. At night she watched various martial art videos and researched new ways to fight until her parents went to sleep, then she'd sneak out of her room, run to the park not far from her home and trained herself. Struggled to incorporate everything she had learned. Dusted vamps when they got in her way. The change was enough to drive her father away, she was almost glad. If her dreams were any indication they were better off without him. Even if it broke her mothers heart. But her mother had forced herself to bounce back, enough at least to make the decision that would set Buffy on her chosen path.

When she had woken up that next morning, after the memories that had slammed into her finally ended, she had not paused to assess what had happened. Had not stopped to think maybe it had all been a dream. No she had woken up with a sense of urgency, desperation propelling her from her bed and scrambling for a discarded notebook. Ripping the pages that had been used, not many because really no one ever actually did anything in study hall, she put pen to paper and let herself write. It read like a cross of a book and a diary. She spent three hours like that, ignoring the painful cramp in her hands, until she was finished. Until everything she had dreamt was safely stored in six of the seven notebooks she had manged to scrounge up. Another two hours was spent reading over what she had written, trying to make herself remember things that hadn't yet happened but seemed branded on her soul. She should have been scared, angry, petulant. A week ago she would have been, hell the night before she would have been but not now. She wasn't sure what was going on, why or even how. She knew that there were gaps in the memories that had assailed her, jagged puzzle pieces that left the picture glaringly incomplete. Not that it mattered to her. She knew enough, just enough she hoped to give her what she wanted.

To some extent she knew what had happened. Understood that the memories she now had seared in her mind were not hers, not really, but of a version of herself that had already lived. Had already made her decisions and reaped the rewards for her mistake. She looked upon those memories and felt shamed. She was such a BITCH. But hadn't she always been? Even before the Slayer stuff? The memories had given her focus, purpose. She couldn't wait, could hardly contain herself. She ached for the friends she was destined to make. She missed Willows shy determination, Xaviers unending faith, Giles calm guidance. She missed Angels cryptic warnings, Anyas cautious restraint, Taras soft assurance. She missed Spikes laugh. And therein lay the rub. She didn't know these people. Didn't owe them anything. If she had wanted to she could have told her mother that Sunnydale wasn't where she wanted to go. She could have avoided her destiny all-together but that was a childs decision. To run away before you were shackled in place. And it was so very tempting because if she didn't go there now someone else would, she was certain that whether she was there or not nothing would change. Someone would take up the mantle but could they do it as well as her? Could they love them and appreciate them as much as she was now sure she could? Could they forgive Angel his shortcomings? Could they love Spike like she had never given herself the chance to?

The fear destroyed temptation. That anyone, ANYONE, could take Spikes love from her was a punch in the gut. Oh she didn't know everything, couldn't remember everything, but she knew from the moment his voice had broken through the haze of memories. She knew when the pain had stilled long enough for her to see him, staring at her, blue eyes free for her to read, when she heard him tell her that he loved her. The decision cemented when she had watched him turn to ash in the sun. She didn't know who he was, who any of them were, not really. And she knew it would be a struggle but she wanted a chance. A chance to touch something so bright, a chance to learn the dance. With him. If in the end he chose another she'd be content in the knowledge that she had done all she could, that he was happy and alive and THERE even if he wasn't there with her. So she had told her mother "Yes. Sunnydale it is" and she had trained. In part for preparation of all the battles to come but, mostly, because she wanted to impress him. She wanted him to see that she was his match, from the beginning, his partner like no one else could ever be.

A week before the start of school she found herself in an oddly familiar home, recognizing it from The Night. Unlike her dreams the house was devoid of life, empty and waiting for them. The walk to the room that would be hers was both familiar and new. The constant dejavu almost disorienting. It took her two days to unpack everything, slowly arranging everything until the dream and the reality were one and the same. In the time before school began she used her fathers guilt money to get herself some much needed supplies. Books, movies, talismans, whatever she could find. Not to mention a new wardrobe. Hey she had reasoned I am fifteen even if, since the night I don't feel fifteen. It was true. Oh she was still Buffy. She still whined and pouted, still raged, but she understood consequence now. She understood just how much her decisions could change the world around her, she refused to believe it was a dream. That he was a dream. She had a focus to her, the set of her shoulders showing unfailing confidence, eyes hooded with knowledge, tough, feminine, mature. It didn't matter if she couldn't have him, so long as he and the rest of the world could continue on she would be happy. But...She really wanted him.

Now it was the night before, school would start come morning and Buffy was studying the two outfits she had picked out carefully. The first- long black boots, a cute red skirt reaching just under mid thigh, a white halter top that ended just above her belly button and a white short-sleeved jacket. Cute, simple, childish. Buffy shook her head, worrying at her lower lip as she considered outfit number two. Tight blue jeans that defined her long, toned legs, a black shirt hugged her curves, held together by nothing more than a clip at the neck and a loose knot at her waist, leaving her back bare. She opted for a pair of closed in heels that gave a few extra inches. If I keep the make-up light...Yes this is perfect. Decision made Buffy returned the other outfit to her closet, easing her chosen wardrobe over the back of her chair. Sighing softly she allowed herself to fall into bed, picking up one of the notebooks (aka Everything I Need To Know To Not Fuck Up My Life) and began to read until, hours later, she drifted off to sleep.

"I can't see Willy!? It's dark!" The voice cracked like a whip in the silence. Not that the voice was especially forceful. It was, in fact, little more than a whisper. It was the obvious insanity that lent the voice such power. You cold hear it , like a scuffling above your head in the dark. It itched. Part of him relished it. The part of him that wanted, that needed someone, anyone, to need him. Druisilla had always needed him, even when he'd been human he'd known that. She had needed something to keep her tentative hold on sanity from eroding. He was her Champion, it made him feel good. Powerful. Invincible. Even if he knew it was a lie, even if he knew she could never need him like he needed her. A hundred and twenty years were invested in her though and he couldn't bring himself to leave her. Hence the reason he immediately stopped feeding, breaking his victims neck in one quick twitch of his fingers. A pity.

Strong, pale hands reached for the ethereal brunette who stood absolutely still, her face frozen in confusion. She allowed herself to be drawn against him, allowed him to soothe her even as the glimpses of the future twisted, changed. She'd never seen anything like it. It was as if, somehow, the world had been reset. A blanket of fresh snow. Her companion whispered softly to her, the words just noise to her ears.

"What's dark baby?"

"I can't see her. The Slayer. Kill her for me Spike. Kill her now. For me?"

Slayer? He hadn't realized another one had popped up. Another notch in his belt? Blue eyes twinkled in adoration, his grip on her tightened imperceptibly as he leaned into her. Her mouth rose for his, swerving away at the last moment so that his lips just barely grazed her cheek.'

"It's done princess." He answered, laughter hiding the usual hurt.

"Kill her for princess?" She whispered big eyes rounding on her companion, as if unsure if he could pull it off. He snickered and shot her a predatory smirk.

"I'll chop her into messes."

It was so familiar. It was so strange.

If she had had any doubt about the validity of The Night here in front of her was indisputable proof that she was not, in fact, crazy. It was her school and she knew nothing about it. She could probably find her way blind. After saying a rushed goodbye to her mother, as she exited the car, she had stood there for a full minute. Just allowing herself to adjust to the oddness of it all. Squaring her shoulder she made her way up the steps and through the hall, unaware of the endless appreciative male glances shot her way. Navigating the halls as if she'd been there all her life gave her a mild sense of deja vu, something she shook away as she spotted her goal. The library. Buffy almost couldn't stop the grin threatening to spread across her face. She knew who was in there, she knew why, and she couldn't wait to throw him for a loop. From what she knew Rupert Giles had taken years to learn to lighten up, with good reason, but she had decided, in consideration to what knowledge she'd gleaned from wherever the memories had come, that things would progress much more smoothly if she started as she meant to go on. As equals. She may have been destined to save the world, but she hadn't done it before. Had never considered that, perhaps, they deserved it more than she did.

When she walked through the door he was bent over a table, eyes skimming over the book laying atop it. Another book was clutched in his hand, opened to some page with what looked like a crude drawing of a demon visible to her. Smirking mischievously she pushed the door closed with more strength than strictly necessary. The resulting bang made the older man turn so fast Buffy suspected he'd given himself whiplash. For a few moments they just stared at each other. Older English gentleman and young teenage girl. Her eyes twinkled merrily, the green speckled across the hazel depths glimmered. Taking a step forward, before the older man could gain his bearings, she stretched out her hand.

"Hi I'm Buffy."

It took him a minute, mouth opening and closing in an attempt to say something. When he realized, with dawning horror, that he was being inexplicably rude to the girl he returned the gesture. When she offered him a quick smile something clicked into place. He found himself frowning down at her, unsure if she was here for something scholastic or for the same reasons as himself. At his frown Buffy shook her head and held out her hand, palm up, one eyebrow arching in question.

"Oh my apologies, terribly rude of me. I am Mr. Giles, Librarian."

She just stared at him, her hand shaking as if waiting for him to hand her something.

"Ca-Can I help you?"

Ok so totally not entirely 100% up there right now. Fine. Sighing in exasperation, and amusement, she pointed at him. Speaking carefully, clearly, slowly. This often times worked or it had, would? Just don't think about it Summers.

"You Watcher." Words weighed. She proceeded to point at herself, "Me Slayer. Capish?"

"I'm sorry?" He was confused. Oh he knew what she way, had taken only a few moments in her presence to recognize the power in her. He had only seen it once before in her predecessor, India. It was the way she moved, like a predator. She hid it well enough, he supposed, but it was there. He simply hadn't expected her to know who or what he was. Not right away.

"I need the handbook." She stated clearly, accentuating each word. Her hand still opened in front of them both, waiting. He hadn't been prepared for this. From what he had been told she had been chosen, seemingly at random, by the PTB and the Watcher before him had only spent a brief time with her before he had expired. Not enough, certainly not enough to give her any real information. Yet here she stood, waiting. Eyes widening he fumbled with the book in his hand, settling it alongside the other on the table with barely a backwards glance.

"How did you-"

"Merrick told me a little, not much but a little."

"Ah yes, of course. I apologize Miss Summers."

She held out a hand to stop him, even as he turned away from her to search beneath his desk.

"Just Buffy, please."

Rising he offered her an almost pained smile, "Yes, of course, Buffy. I believe this belongs to you." The large, heavy, ancient book placed before her was intimidating. He had half expected her to take one look at it and turn away. Part of him was already pegging her as a young woman that ran from books instead of reading them. He was surprised, and more than a little relieved, when she hefted it in her arms and clutched it close. After a moment of silence she sighed again and laid the book back down to the desk.

"Miss- Uh Buffy.." He trailed off unsure. Buffy chuckled lightly and gently slapped his shoulder, "Don't worry Giles." The name slid from her mouth easily, making it sound familiar. Made it sound as if she'd known him her whole life, he didn't catch it then. His own stuttering mind still trying to grasp that his appointed Slayer had simply walked in, introduced herself, and demanded the book that was, by rights, hers. He had thought it would be harder than that. Then, of course she had put the book back down. She must have sensed his confusion because she shook her head gently.

"I'll be back once school ends, if it's not a problem?"

"Oh?" Flustered, "Yes, yes, that would be...acceptable. Thank you." A rather endearing, if awkward, smile flashed across his features. Buffy took a step back, "Well, see ya later Giles." She offered a quick wave and left the room, and a rather flabbergasted Watcher, behind.

Thank you all for your reviews. I'm glad that i've got so many of you interested so quickly, i'll try to live up the expectations. However just keep in mind that the series is AU and there will be quite a few OC moments however I will stay as true to the series as I can. Please R/R and, also, I do not own Buffy or any of its other characters, places, plot lines, etc... Didn't like the last few seasons, my way's better (at least in my opinion. Long live Spuffy fans)

lee2020 and BtheP - Thanks a lot, it's taken awhile and a lot of mistakes but i'm happy to say I finally like my writing style too ^_^

ManiMan- Sorry to disappoint but I'm going to do my best to cover each season throughout this fic. Admittedly i'll probably gloss over some of the events I find, mostly, pointless but I hope you'll enjoy it regardless.

jojoMRP and everyone else- Thanks for making me feel like this is a story people will read and enjoy. I'll be updating at least once a week, if not more. Depends on how life goes you know? But 1 chapter, minimum, for week is what you can expect.

Thank You all so very much