Twenty-seven – Buffy's Cure, Anya's Curse
Buffy took one look at Anya and collapsed.
"BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!" shrieked the Slayer, rolling around the floor.
Anya glared.
"Well, at least she's not catatonic anymore." Dawn muttered to Xander.
"She won't be corporeal anymore, if she doesn't shut-up." Anya warned.
The blonde just giggled helplessly.
"Right. That's it!" Anya morphed into her demonic form. "Fear my WRATH!"
Buffy paused.
Snorted.
Then burst into more laughter.
"Well, that's just rude." Anya frowned, huffily.
"Um…Anya?" Dawn hesitantly held up a mirror.
Anya blinked.
Her reflection looked like a scary vein-y Groucho Marx.
"Oh." she mumbled, "That…certainly ruins the effect."
"BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!" agreed Buffy.