THE WITCH RETURNS
PART SIX: HISTORY LESSONS
If memory served correct, Anyanka first appeared to Cordelia so she could wreak vengeance on Xander for a liplock with Willow. Which was totally funny now that she was into the gayness and all. From what Anya had told them, Cordelia must have been granted her wish then, in the other reality, her amulet was somehow destroyed, causing the last request granted to be reversed. As a side effect, it also made her mortal.

God, she hoped the patron saint of scorned women had not been wish-granting-happy lately.

Dawn held a gold, smoldering goblet in her hand while pulling bits of an herb from a bushel. She dropped them inside as she stared at the book of summoning spells and recited, "Oh, Anyanka, I beseech thee... in the name of all women scorned... come before me."

Research was not as hard as Buffy and the gang made it out to be. Easy as pie. Strange saying that... how was pie easy? You had to make the crust, peel the fruits, yadda, yadda. Well, there was always pre-frozen pies, those were easy. Woah, girl, completely losing your train of thought now. Get back to the summon-

Amidst her mental rambling, Anya arrived in all her demonic glory.

Dawn yelped and leapt back fright. Maybe this had not been such a good idea after all.

Anyanka's gaze swept over the room and, upon seeing she was alone, made eye contact.

"We are going to have a talk about you breaking into MY store, using MY goods and playing with magic, young lady." Taking inventory of the pieces utilized in calling her, she scarily calculated in her head, "It's also going to cost you $28.75."

"Anya?" She hesitantly asked, ignoring the payment request.

"Who did you think you were sending for? Donald Trump?"

"Donald Trump?" Dawn squeaked.

Anya's human face returned, putting her a little more at ease. Even more so when the woman, very much like her old self, answered, "Yeah... real estate mogul... billionaire... ringing any bells? Sheesh, what do they teach you at that school? Your educators should concentrate more on money."

The girl scowled, forgetting her discomfort. "I know who Donald Trump is. I'm not an idiot."

"Well, you didn't act as though you did." Taking a seat, she inquired, "Okay, what's up? If you want to make a wish... sorry. Women are my specialty, not kids. Therefore, unless Xander made you angry, my hands are tied. That's Hallie's field." Not allowing Dawn to speak, she excitedly pressed, "Did Xander make you angry?"

"Er... no."

Her disappointment was obvious. Then, as if it had not even been there, the emotion was shrugged off. "Okay, not Xander. Why am I here?"

"Um, been granting any good wishes lately?"

"What?" Anya was flummoxed.

Not wanting to press her luck, Dawn decided to change tactics.

She threw herself at the devoted retailer and began to theatrically sob. "I've missed you. I'm sorry for sneaking into the shop. I had to see you. I hate not having you around."

Her hold tightened in case Anya tried to move away. Instead, she received an awkward pat on the back and a stilted, "There, there."

She continued to sniffle and realized, deep down, she had missed Anya during her absence. Even if the last wish granted had not been Tara's, the reestablished demon being made mortal again would be a good thing. Not only for her, but Xander as well. Correct?

With a renewed sense of rightness, she prepared to act...

As they pulled away from each other, Dawn grabbed Anya's power source and tugged it free of her neck. Just as she had done to Catherine a week before.

"Hey," was the startled objection, not realizing the direness of the situation. "You little thief. I thought you had learned your lesson. You shouldn't take things that don't belong to you. Give it back."

"I'm sorry," Dawn apologized, tossed the deceptive adornment to the ground and stepped on it with all the weight she could muster. Everything had gotten bizarre since the motel showdown. Hopefully, going back would make it right again.

The world was no more.

PART SEVEN: DEJA VU
"N-n-no," came a faint behest. Tara's cracked and bloodied lips worked to formulate more, "No k-k-killing. Too much k-k-killing. I wish all of it would stop. That the F-f-finder's power was no more and the descendants had no rec-recollection to the past centuries of h-h-hate and torture."

She had forced one puffed up eye open and stared at Anya the entire time.

"How did you know?"

"A-a-aura," was the tired reply.

"When-" Anya tried to continue her questioning and, for once, could not articulate herself.

"K-k-knew first time I s-s-saw you after-"

"-the wedding," she finished.

Tara nodded wearily. "D-d-do I get my wish? Vengeance is m-m-my right."

Unable to deny her calling, Anyanka took a step back, away from the group that had been her family these past years, and allowed her true face to come forth. "Wish granted."

Any expectancy was for naught. The one-time demon's face remained human and the request was unavoidably refused.

"Try again," Anya commanded.

Tara studied her more closely. "You're different now."

"What do you mean?"

"Your aura is h-h-human again."

Realization dawned on Willow and she moved supportively closer to her friend. "Huh?" Xander intervened, ignoring her warning hand on his arm. "Of course it's human!"

"Phooey," Anya stomped in frustration, disregarding him. "That's two times in less than a decade! D'Hoffryn will never let me live this down."

"I think you have more than D'Hoffryn to worry about, dearie," said Amy as she entered the room holding an all-too-quiet Dawn.

"Amy?" Willow watched in bewilderment.

Tara squinted. By fate or coincidence, this was the first time she had seen Amy since the morning after her restoration a few months ago. "T-t-that's not Amy. She's l-l-like what happened when Buffy and F-f-faith switched bodies."

With one hand clutching Dawn, her captor directed the other at Willow and caused an invisible force to propel her back. Her head roughly made contact with the bed railing and her eyes drooped shut. She did not move anymore. "Seems the wicked witch isn't dead after all."

Xander bolted to aid Willow while Buffy and Spike surged to their feet, both searching for any weaknesses.

Dawn whimpered as the grip on her tightened.

"Catherine."

She received a smile in confirmation. "Very good. Glad to see I wasn't forgotten. Oh, and I really appreciate you taking care of the Witch-Finder for me. He was becoming quite a nuisance."

"How?" Buffy asked.

She did not need to be elaborate. Her enemy knew exactly what she meant. "It was all thanks to you, actually. You were the one who blew up the school. Let me tell you, being stuck in that trophy was horrendous. Ahhh, but you didn't know where I was, did you? Well, as soon as my prison was no more, my soul was freed. Problem was, I didn't have a body. It was destroyed during our last encounter. I was very weak at the time, not strong enough to transpossess with an unknown form. I needed Amy's, one I was familiar with. However, by that time, the fool girl had changed herself into a rat. Very embarrassing. I had to wait until Willow found a way to reverse the spell... such an amateur. Needless to say, after that, the rest is history. Voila."

"Where's Amy?"

"Two beings in same body. Not a pretty sight. I had to make some adjustments. I entered ahead of the spell, out-powered her when she was weak from one of her visits with Rack and modified the transpossession spell to shift only one entity, Amy, out of this body."

"That doesn't answer me," Buffy said, not taking her eyes from Catherine or Dawn. "Where's Amy?"

"The bleedin' necklace," Spike guessed. "That's why you didn't want me to see it."

"Indeed," Catherine responded. "And you have nowhere to hide this time, slayer. I couldn't leave Sunnydale without having a little payback."

The conscious room occupants watched as Catherine's eyes turned pitch black. Lifting her hand, she repeated the incantation that had failed her so long ago. "I shall look upon my enemy. I shall look upon her and the dark place will have her soul! Corsheth, take her!"

Spike instinctively stepped into the path of the energy bolt flying at Buffy. It hit him and did absolutely nothing.

"Heh, that tickled," he jested.

"Nooooooo," Catherine shouted in outrage.

"Can't take my soul if I soddin' don't have one." He augmented to Buffy, "I knew that little fact would come in handy sooner or later. Remember this next time you wanna talk about the pros and cons of soul-having and what-not."

With no one paying her any heed, Tara's exhausted mind mulled on what she had overheard. Not as powerful as Willow, she prayed that her sketchy plan would not backfire. Under her breath, she entreated, "I shall look upon the helpless... w-w-whelmed by my enemy. I shall look upon her and Gilail, spirit giver... soul keeper... psyche granter... will restore her soul..."

Anya used the distraction Spike provided to her benefit, edging nearer to Catherine in an attempt to assist Dawn. Unfortunately, she was not surreptitious enough to avoid their adversary's defenses. One step too close and she suffered a similar fate to Willow, being thrust backwards until she awkwardly crashed into the wall. An undeniable cracking of bone could be heard and Xander cried, "Anya!"

Seeing the two he loved most become casualties, Xander ignored the wages of war. He cradled Willow to his chest and inched nearer to a sobbing Anya. He pulled and held the injured pair to him in an effort to soothe as best he could. Anya flinched away, not because of her consoler's identity, but because her arm was definitely broken. "Why can't I get hurt somewhere else? Why can't I not get hurt? Ohhhhh... it hurts."

While Catherine savored the minor victory, Dawn kicked her in the shin and grabbed for the chain around her neck. Free, she rushed to Buffy and Spike, only to stumble and have the necklace skid across the floor.

Meanwhile, Tara was blind to all other activity, renewed energy coursing through her badly abused form. When her head was tossed back, it captured everyone's interest. Her always kind eyes became the purest of white and a candescent light radiated from them. In contrast to Catherine's black gaze of death and despair, hers offered life and hope. No longer timid, she exclaimed while her pupiless orbs focused on the menacing witch in the guise of a daughter, "Gilail, I beseech you, restore her! Restore her! RESTORE HER!"

Buffy saw Spike move to shelter Dawn and edged closer to the magic users, ready to act as Tara's backup if needed.

Catherine, on the other hand, was torn between grabbing Dawn for cover and stopping Tara. What she realized too late was she had already lost control. There was nothing further she could do as...

...an unseen surge of power suddenly swarmed the room. Screams of frustration and loss came from the transgressing witch. The Scoobies sat back in awe as the rescuer became the rescuee. The body housing Catherine was lifted into the air, floating as if of its own accord, and a swirling mist bathed itself around her. The dropped necklace was engulfed by a similar haze. The potent magic started to dissipate in mere seconds. Amy, returned to herself and sapped of strength, unceremoniously fell to the ground.

Retaining her uncanny ability of being calm during the most rampant of storms, a warm smile touched Tara's possessed lips. She explained what most believed unexplainable. One of the many secrets of living. "Life is given and life is taken, the interim being the journey of a soul. Once the destination is met, there is no escaping Corsheth's command. He is the taker, I am the giver." As her eyes started to return to normal, the vacating being who came at her bequest confirmed a final point, "The one known as Amy is restored."

Tara proceeded to slump in her chair, evacuated by all foreign entities and fatigue winning out at last.

Buffy touched the back of her head and thoughtfully peered at the unconscious Tara, Willow and Amy. "We have to break this habit of getting knocked out."

"I plan on it," said a cold, hard voice from her rear. A searing pain speared its way through Buffy's chest.

They had completely forgotten about a very incensed and revived Witch-Finder.

Author's Note: If you could not tell, the catalyst for this alternate outcome (as compared to the one in Witch-Finder) was Anya's humanization. Willow ended up moving to comfort Xander, causing her to change locations, and when Catherine attacked her, instead of hitting the wall she hit the bed railing and blacked out. If you already understood this, great... if not, sorry my writing was not more understandable.

PART EIGHT: SURPRISE ATTACK
Dawn's exclamation of terror at witnessing the attack mingled with Buffy's own wail of hurt. The assault was like nothing she had ever felt - a phantasm grapple seizing itself around her racing heart and squeezing... squeezing... squeezing... until she could not take any more and it popped. Literally.

"Do you know what's happening to you, slayer?" The Witch-Finder taunted, arm outstretched with his hand balled into a tight fist. Seeing the mounting horror on her face, he realized she did and sneered. He applied more pressure, leading to an even greater contraction of the chest. It was excruciating. "I hold your life in my palm, little girl. With the slightest inclination, I could make you nothing but a distant memory. With a word, I could eviscerate you-"

The start of the sorcerer's long-winded spiel was interrupted when he observed Spike's peripheral approach and, not one to be caught off-guard a second time, lashed his other hand out to connect with his challenger's face. Cleaving to the vampire's chin, he held him at bay with a strength no mortal man should possess. A sizzling sound emanated from his vise-like clasp and the prisoner roared at the torture technique being administered.

Spike had been brought to an ill-fated standstill. Paralysis overcame his limbs as an audible hissing peregrinated the vicinity and an agonized moan was wrested from him. He was on fire. The smell of burning flesh could be easily discerned, but he was mentally (if not physically) numb to the discommoding efforts. His eyes were, instead, trained on Buffy and he was tormented to have let her down... AGAIN.

"Feel the burn, vampire. See what I am. Crusader of the Just. Fawned over by higher beings. My righteousness, like the cross, is so far beyond your grasp that you cannot hope to touch me. Ever."

Spike gritted his teeth, jaw clenching in pain. "That wasn't the case when I thrashed you a bit ago, wanker."

"Hey now," Xander protested, untangling himself from Anya and Willow. He did not get to interfere because, when noticed, his entire frame began to involuntarily shake.

"What the-"

Unexpectedly, the handsome man vanished and in his place was a small rodent.

"Xander!" Anya screeched and, with her good arm, started to pick him up in his morphed state. The rat saw her approach, squealed and scurried into hiding. She crawled after him.

The minor Summers worried her bottom lip, unshed tears ready to fall at any given moment. Buffy and Spike were in their nemesis' clutches with little prospect of escape and Xander had been Amy-fied. Everyone was derelict to her presence and she took the opening that small favor offered to crawl forward and sink her teeth into the warlock's ankle. The coppery tang of blood flooded her mouth, but she doggedly held on. That was, until his free leg kicked out and roughly connected itself with her ribs. Dawn ululated at the clout and stumbled back, his life fluid trickling its way down the side of her mouth.

Buffy gave a distraught whine, vaguely aware of the byplay, but subdued from abetting her loved ones thanks to the Witch-Finder's unchecked might. Geez, she had seen Spike's fist thrusts into his victims of the past - tearing at their innards in advance of ripping beating and un-beating hearts alike from their still animated bodies; mercifully, demon victims all. She had never understood the harrowing ramifications of the horrific act and, most definitely, had never expected to be on the receiving end of such an inhumane death. She was going to die. She was going to die. She was going to die. The litany played itself over and over in her mind. She did not want to die!

No blustering or maundering of anger came from Spike. The stupid git had harmed not one, but both of his girls. Dawn was wounded and Buffy was being murdered right in front of him. A calm, determined battlefront encompassed him and, for the first time in one hundred twenty plus years, his purpose for existing was elucidated - protect them.

The chipped male hissed through the scorching battery of his face and, using the remnants of his energy, jerked his throbbing head back in an effort to build up momentum and consecutively hurtled forward until his forehead collided with the enemy's. The impact was forceful enough to cause disorientation in both parties. In addition, Spike suffered an electrifying reprimand for the desperate deed.

The Witch-Finder's prey were briefly neglected as he reached for the newest injury. Groaning, Buffy used the reprieve to ascertain Dawn and Spike's well-being.

Dawn now cowered in a corner while Spike trudged through the smarting, grateful that his appendages were beginning to function again. Drawing himself up, he was primed for combat aware, all the while, of unlikely victory. He was a terrifying martyr - bleached hair glinting off rays of fluorescent lighting, prominent red welts burned on the alabaster skin of his beautifully livid face and a piercing stare that promised he would not go down without a fight. He was magnificent.

Nevertheless, the Witch-Finder recovered quicker than Spike and pointed an accusatory finger at Buffy. "The vitiated should perish."

Uncertain that he could act prior to the Witch-Finder eliminating her, Spike urgently agreed, "Right then. Do it. I'm a soddin' vampire, for Christ's sake. If anyone's corrupt around here, it's me. Take me instead!"

"No," Dawn wept in alarm, trailed by Buffy, too impaired to piece a sentence together, grunting her own opposition.

The despondent vampire ignored them as did the Witch-Finder. Spike was given a critical survey. "Point taken, soulless one." Unable to mask his curiosity, he moved closer. "Your life for theirs?"

"In a heartbeat," he answered without hesitation.

With the pact made, he took in his fill of Buffy and Dawn... branding their images in preparation for the eternity of flames and brimstone to come in his upcoming jaunt to hell. His demeanor was one of pride, refusing to cower in the face of death. Alternatively, he gloried in the knowledge that the women of his life would survive.

Protect them.

When the Witch-Finder leaned in for the kill, Spike did not give him a second glance. He chose for the last thing he saw to be the faces of his salvation, not his murderer. He gave them a tired smile, silently telling them not to assign guilt.

Gales of laughter interrupted the sentimental farewell. The Witch-Finder snapped his fingers and the amulet entombing Catherine flew to him. "The worthy should live." He disappeared.

A loud thump and "ow" came from under the bed. The bushed and awake room inhabitants stared quizzically in its direction. A baffled Xander crawled from beneath. "Okay, what happened?"

Beholding his restoration, Anya threw herself at him and muffled out, "The Witch-Finder's gone."

"I think we got our asses kicked," Dawn added in a strained voice, holding her bruised side.

"Dawn," a recovering Buffy and bedraggled Spike scolded together, "language."

Spike knelt next to the teen and tentatively reached for the base of her shirt. He shifted it high enough to reveal the damage wrought and gave a light touch. She winced.

"Nothing's broken, bit," he assured.

He tiredly inspected the toppled Scoobies and destroyed room and remarked, "We should get out of here. In case he decides to come back and finish the job."

Buffy crawled to them at a snail's pace. "Okay... but rest first. Plus, the sun's up. I don't think you'll be able to make it out of here on your own until dark."

It was true. He was on his last legs.

Xander spoke through an onslaught of peppered kisses from Anya, "You all sit tight and I'll bring the car around front, it'll shorten the walk. I don't think Willow, Tara or Amy are going to be dancing the jig any time soon. We need to get to the hospital."

Watching a completely healthy Harris go for the vehicle, Spike had to comment, "That boy has to be the luckiest sod alive to have survived as long as he has."

"No jigging. No Bronzing. No moving. No nothing," Dawn mumbled as she lounged on the badly carpeted floor, drained.

"No anything for you," Buffy muttered back. "You're grounded until your thirtieth birthday."

"What?!"

"Why are we always having to save you? You can't go twenty-four hours without getting into trouble."

"You all are the ones who left me with posesso-girl. Not my fault. Some support here, please, Spike!"

He grinned in response, reclining between them and basking in the feeling of being alive. As alive as he could get.

"This isn't fair," she complained. "I even tried to save you! Did you see the bite maneuver? I chomped on him good! You should be thanking me!"

"Ooooh," Buffy teased, "scary girl with her pearly whites. Just goes to show you've been hanging around the big bad too long."

"Arrrrrggghhh," Dawn hollered, reluctantly accepting her unwarranted punishment. For now.

EPILOGUE
"Slayer, duck!" Spike shouted, his attention divided between her and the two vampires he was presently fighting. A furious growl followed his warning when he saw a pair of undead arms latch themselves around her waist, attempting to hold her steady, while another creature of the night prepared to pummel her.

Spike dodged a flying fist and kicked one of his legs out, bringing a foe to the ground. His arm arced downward, burying a stake into the monster's chest. An instant later, he was in hand-to-hand combat with the remaining demon. He easily avoided every attack and, after a blur of movements, captured his enemy's neck and twisted until there was a loud snap. He maintained hold of the lax body while thrusting a stake into its un-beating heart.

He wasted no time basking in victory, already rushing across the graveyard to Buffy. Spike barreled forward, throwing his entire body at one of her attackers. With the relief, she let her leg do a 180-degree kick, meeting the face of the monster that held her imprisoned. It stumbled in surprise and weakened under an array of blows to the mid-section.

Soon, only two remained - one breathing heavily and one not breathing at all. The slayer and her vampire. One-time enemies. Reluctant allies. Irascible lovers. And, at last, steadfast friends.

Buffy pouted. "I had everything under control."

Spike was skeptical. "Right. Under control if you wanted to be on tonight's menu."

"You mean I'm not on tonight's menu?" Her eyes twinkled with a seductive glint. "And here I thought you were starved for me."

Putting their wooden weapons away, the couple joined hands and walked. If anyone had seen them, it would have seemed they were doing nothing more than taking a midnight stroll albeit, oddly, in a cemetery. The danger that radiated from them had dissipated, leaving the duo of death with the simple guise of young people in love.

"Oh, believe you me, I'm famished. Ravenous in fact. Wait 'til we get home."

"Is that a threat or a promise?"

"That's reality, love. Plus, I wanna see if you like how I remodeled the crypt after your and fishboy's visit."

Buffy ignored the egg mishap reference and, instead, sighed wistfully. "In this reality, will I be getting a rubdown? I think we fought one too many baddies this evening. Every muscle in my body aches."

"I'll take care of all the muscles in your body, pet," Spike grinned, dragged her hand to his groin and suggestively added, "including mine."

"Pig," she teased.

A whoop of laughter came from Buffy when he abruptly grabbed, tossed her over his shoulder and sprinted through the night with his prize.

"Oink, oink."

THE END
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