Written by Czar Fruitcake
Anya walked into the Summers household, leaving Dawn in the front yard, slowly morphing into a less whiny and irritating person. As if in a matter of mere minutes, Dawn seemed less annoying and more mature. How was such a thing possible?
Then Anya took a moment to look around her. The house was absolutely crawling with Potentials. Anya rubbed her hands together wickedly. So much THWACKing, so little time.
“An’ then,” Molly said, chewing thoughtfully on a fruit roll up, “the lit’l demon turns to me an’…” Anya approached the young girl and…
THWACK! Molly rubbed the side of her head.
“Hey! What ‘id ya do that for?” Anya smiled sweetly at her.
“Routine First Check,” she said, liking the excuse. “I’m smacking everyone to make sure they aren’t the first, and that had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that your accent sounds like a fake version of Drusilla’s.”
Anya turned to the next Potential in line: the red head. THWACK! “You know, Anya said thoughtfully, “I’m never really sure whether your name is Chloe or Viv. Don’t suppose it matters since you’ll be dying soon anyway.” The girl tilted her head, her red curls bouncing to the side.
Anya approached Kennedy. “I won’t smack you… yet,” Anya said after debating for a moment. “You’re Willow’s new orgasm friend, and you actually have an interesting attitude.”
Suddenly, a Potential who looked like Miranda off of Lizzie Maguire appeared standing in between two of the others.
THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!
“That’s for actually looking fifteen,” Anya said, “when everyone knows Potential Slayer look eighteen at least. And because…”
The girl disappeared. Anya wrinkled her brow. That was odd.
THWACK! Anya smacked Amanda next. “That’s for going to talk to Buffy about boys.”
Anya looked around the room, drenched in sweat.
“Just wondering,” she said sweetly to the room as a whole, “Does everyone here like money and the great capitalistic exchange?”
All of the girls nodded vigorously, and Anya left the room, in search of her next victim.