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Author's Chapter Notes:
A/N: I realize that this could be strange, but since this story is set in an Ultra Alternate Universe, I thought about teaming up Wesley with Anya.

Don't get me wrong: I like Xander and Anya together, and Wesley and Fred on "Angel", but I just wanted to push the envelope on this. Buffy doesn't appear in this chapter in order to set things up between Anya, Spike and Wesley, but she's in the next chappie. Promise!!

Anyway, on with the story.
CHAPTER SIX

XXXXXXXXXXX

Wesley poured through some surprisingly smaller books the following day after his class at his favorite table in the Magic Shop. He researched and cross-referenced the texts therein, writing down anything that could point to who the mysterious "Chosen One" was.

The night before, after vigorous pressing on his part, Spike had finally told the college student about the dreams which had haunted the revenant night after night.

Spike didn't know who the girl in them was, but he had said to Wesley that the dreams were becoming more intense. When the photo the vampire had seen presented the image in glorious reality to him, Wesley knew he could not rest until he knew everything about the girl in the photograph.

As Spike tossed and turned in his sleep the following morning, Wesley took up the arduous task of finding out about her. It had taken several hours since his single morning class had concluded, but he had at least found a passage that hinted that the girl could possibly be the "Chosen One".

That was, unfortunately, all he found out after the tedious research he had engaged in this fine day. When he discarded a fourth book and tried to leaf through another, the woman at the cash register came closer to where he sat.

"Excuse me," she began. "You seem troubled about something. Is there anything I can help you with?"

Without waiting for Wesley to tell her what he needed, she slid a cup of Chamomile tea in his direction. The college man smelled the brew and glanced at the cup, but was otherwise occupied by his research.

The woman tried again. "You're awfully cute, and I was thinking that perhaps we could copulate later on," she said in a matter-of-fact tone. That got Wesley's attention.

He looked up into a pair of intense brown eyes set in an oval face. Her hair was dark and framed her shoulders. She wore a chocolate brown long sleeved sweater with a floral print skirt. The skirt, a lighter shade of brown, had white floral patterns.

Wesley gasped, not only at her comment, but at her beauty. "Excuse me," he said finally. "W-what did you say?"

"I said, I find you attractive in the extreme, and I was thinking that we could know each other in a sexual sense," she responded. Wesley swallowed as he imagined the image of the woman naked all of a sudden.

"I, um…I…uh, what did you say your name was?" he asked.

The woman smiled, holding out a hand. Wesley grabbed it and shook it, marveling at the strong grip her small fingers provided.

"I didn't, actually," she said, sliding down into a chair across from him at his round table. "My name's Anya."

"I'm Wesley…" he started saying.

"Wyndham-Price," Anya finished.

"Yes!" Wesley confirmed. "How did you know?" Anya pulled a white slip of paper out of her pocket and handed it to him.

"Your receipt," she answered. "When you came in that other day and bought the Star of Samara, I kept the paper hoping you'd come back."

Wesley studied the merchant copy of his credit card receipt and then looked at her. "Are you always this attentive to your customers?" he asked.

"Only the ones I think are worth my attention," she replied airily. "It's not every day that a person comes in for a binary spell initiating talisman, and even fewer customers come in intending to cure a vampire."

Wesley suddenly grew distant. "I don't know what you're talking about," he lied in an icy voice. Anya gave him a pointed stare, but then shrugged.

"You needn't worry that I'll say anything," she told him. "You paid good money for that talisman, yes? Since I love money, it would hardly do to piss you off so that you don't fill my register with cash. Besides, as we already established, I think you're cute, and I would love to know you personally. To do that, I have to gain your trust and seduce you, right?"

Wesley was inwardly flattered, but he figured he'd better nip this in the bud before the situation got any worse. He just wished a certain part of his lower anatomy would capitulate with his current reasoning.

"Ah, look, Anya," he said slowly, "I'm flattered, really flattered, but…"

"I could help you," Anya said rapidly. "You looked like you were struggling to find some information. I know every book in this shop, and I know things that are not in here that could also help."

She got up and went over to Wesley to see what he was reading. He became aware of her strawberry scented hair. It was hard for him to remember just then what his train of thought had been.

"Anya," he said again. "I'm sure that I can find out that which I need to know by my—"

Again, she cut him off. "You want to know about the 'Chosen One', right?" she asked. "I saw you leafing through The Guide to the Chosen Few by Hubert Tremlar, who happens to be a personal friend of mine."

"You know who she is?" Wesley exclaimed, pushing his chair slightly back in his excitement. Anya shook her head.

"I don't know who she is exactly," she answered, "but I know how I can find out." The dark haired woman went to the upper level of the shop and selected a small black book from the shelves in the middle. Presently, she came down with it and handed it to Spike's friend, pointing to a passage.

"See…there," she clarified. "It says something about the 'Golden Girl with Eyes like the Sea', in the land of 'Niacharron', in the ninth year of the New Dark Age of Anno Domini. It says that she will have many followers and those who will fight beside her and she will know her eternal mate, but in the end, it is she alone who must kill the terrors of evil and darkness."

Wesley peered at the book, reading the other part of the paragraph. "It also talks about how she will train those who will come behind her in this prophetic year and the White Ones will infuse them with their powers to stand against 'The Angelic One'." The man's blue eyes knit with confusion. "I wonder who that might be?"

"Angelus, perhaps?" Anya guessed. At the other's confused look, she said, "We used to date, back in the day. He was boring to me, and couldn't even inspire orgasms. I faked mine whenever we…"

"Yes," Wesley told her hurriedly, "I get the picture." His mind returned to his original question. "What is the name of the 'Chosen One', I wonder?" he wondered aloud.

**And how does Spike figure in all of this?** He thought.

He studied Anya who by her current facial expression, seemed to be incredibly bored by it all. "You do seem to know a lot," he said in a calculating tone. "May I ask how?"

When Anya didn't answer, Wesley pressed on. "You said just now that you dated the 'Angelic One'. I've seen the name Angelus before, even if I don't know who he is. I do know he existed about 200 years ago, at the very least, so how could you possibly have known him unless…".

He broke off just then as customers came inside the shop. Anya jumped from her chair to see what they wanted.

Once she had taken care of them, the dark haired beauty went to the "open" sign and turned it around, pronouncing the shop "closed". Wesley's eyes followed her every movement, but the man did not stir otherwise. He waited for her to divulge more information.

"I am older than I look; you're right about that," she said conspiratorially.

"I'm not a vampire, if that's what you think. And, I'm paying my debt…" She fell silent. Wesley wondered what she was hiding, but he decided not to pry, at least not right away.

"You don't want to tell me the rest, right?" he stated the obvious.

"Well," Anya said, "it's nothing bad, per se, merely something which should remain in the past." She put on her most disarming smile.

"Besides," she said brightly, "we should get to the matter at hand: solving the identity of the Slayer with the Eyes like the Sea."

Wesley was slightly disappointed, but he knew Anya had him there. He didn't want to force her to reveal her origins, and anyway, she was right that they had to find out who the younger girl in Spike's photo was. He reasoned just then that maybe Spike knew something more about her, even if he didn't know everything yet.

"If I take you with me to help solve this mystery, you must promise me that you won't say anything about this, or about Spike, to anyone," Wesley instructed. Anya shrugged again.

"Who would believe me?" she asked. "Some might, but the majority of folks would just commit me to a sanitarium, and white straightjackets are so not me." Wesley chuckled just then before he had a sobering thought.

**Spike is not going to like this,** he told himself inwardly.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Before Wesley had come into view, Spike ambled tiredly from his King sized bed with red sheets. He growled as he realized that his young, foolish friend had brought a visitor. As he caught the sound of her feminine voice, he ran down to intercept the pair. Maybe, he reasoned, he could scare her off.

Wesley would no doubt be upset, but the young student had violated their most sacred rule: he had invited people to the house rather than taking them to his college dorm room, or another location. For that, Wesley needed to be taught a lesson.

When Wesley heard Spike's growling, he groaned, telling Anya, "You had better let me handle this. I was hoping that, since it is still daylight, Spike would have been asleep, and I could break the news about a visitor gently. Seems my idea was all for naught."

Anya placed a consoling hand on his shoulder. When Wesley opened the front door, she boldly strolled in ahead of him.

The beautiful woman was met by a snarling, fully fanged, orange yellow eyed vampire. "Oh, my goodness!" she exclaimed, looking back at Wesley, who wanted to be anywhere else than where he was standing.

Anya's hands flew to her cheeks as she shouted, "William the Bloody? You're friends with WILLIAM THE BLOODY?"

Spike shouted, "How the bleedin' hell do you know…?" He stopped as he caught her scent. Something about the young woman was familiar.

"Hello, William," Anya greeted cordially. "It's been a long time."

Again, as before, Wesley stated the obvious. "You two know each other?" he asked.

"Yeh," Spike responded. "At least, I think we do."

"Of course we do," Anya replied somewhat arrogantly. "I just don't have my veiny complexion, or my powers. It's really quite vexing."

Spike's glowing orbs studied her once more; then, he swore in a loud voice, "Bloody hell!"

Wesley was still very confused. "What?" he asked. "Who is she?"

"Anyanka," Spike snapped. "She's Anyanka, a Vengeance Demon."

"Former Vengeance Demon," Anya corrected. "Anyway, I fail to see why you're so upset. It's not like I cursed you."

Spike growled, grumbling, "But you told Drusilla where to find me, didn't you?"

Anya said matter-of-factly, "Services rendered for wishes requested. I was just doing my job." Wesley glared at her, inwardly berating himself for ever having invited her to go with him.

"So now you wish to finish it, to do something even worse to my friend?!" he flung at her. "I never should have trusted you."

Before Anya could answer, Wesley told her, "Get out, before I forget my manners regarding women…and I use the term loosely…and throw you out."

Spike held up his hand just then. "Wait a mo', boy wonder," he told his friend. "Maybe she can help us."

"What do you mean?" Wesley started asking. Then, he said as he realized Spike's train of thought. "Ahh…the Star of Samara! I'll fetch it."

Wesley ran to get the object from his room as Spike and Anya stared warily at each other. Anya rolled her eyes, saying, "You know that won't work on me. There is no love lost between us. William certainly has no affection for me, and I don't care for him, so that magic thing is useless."

"Two things, Former Veiny Girl," Spike said, "one: 'm not 'William' anymore, I'm Spike; an' two: you will help us. Former Vengeance Demons usually return to their magic roots, like bein' witches, an' so forth?"

"Yes…" Anya responded hesitantly.

"So, you can cure me o' my curse, or make that Star of Samara do it," he commanded.

Anya burst out laughing. Once she had finished, the Former Vengeance Demon responded, "I'm afraid I can't. It's true that I have the power to do little spells, but I can't undo ages of prophecy. That's what's tied into that little gem. I can't break the Curse. Only the originator of your Curse can undo it, or only the maid destined to free you can. Either way, you're barking up the wrong tree."

Spike responded bitterly, "Great! Now I'll never be set free!"

Anya felt a moment of pity for the vampire with the permanently beastly visage. True, she had just been true to her nature and had helped Drusilla however indirectly, but now that Anya had been human for awhile, she could sympathize with the vampire.

"Look," she replied. "Maybe I can help you after all. Wesley is trying to find the girl in your photo, and since I have a magic shop, I'll help him locate her. Locator spells are second nature to me, and it would certainly help me earn brownie points with T'Hoffran."

Spike measured her expression just then. He wondered if he should trust her. The older male realized that he might not have a choice. Wesley might luck out in finding Spike's dream girl, but then again, the college student might not. At least, with Anya's locator spell, he would have a more certain outcome.

"I'll make up the bedroom in the Southern Wing for you," Spike said reluctantly.

Wesley beat him to the stairs.

"No, I'll do it," he said, adding to Anya in a voice dripping with contempt, "besides, you would need to get clothes and toiletries and all." He went upstairs into the bedroom and started making up the bed.

After draining his latest stash of blood, Spike hoped that he would be able to locate the bewitching-yet-innocent maiden who had haunted his dreams. The blood sucker failed to remember that, just when one has exhausted most, or all, of one's options, Fate often comes to lend a hand.





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