A loud buzzing wakes her up, shifting away dreams of death and graveyards.
"Buffy?" A familiar voice calls.
Is this version of Xander less gross? Because Alistair's face is being cute and sweet and that might actually get to her. Jesse, however, extra gross, and worthy of one of her patented sneers of distaste.
"Well, Xander, it was great meeting you, and it was awful meeting your friend. I have a meeting with the principal to get to. See you both later, probably."
And with that, she walks away from them and to the door labelled 'Principal Flutie', at which she knocks politely.
Xander waves and drags his friend off into the distance.
A familiar face opens the door.
"Hey there, little one."
Flynn's eyes widen at the sight of Anya, scurrying into the office, and closing the door before she bursts. "What in the flippity flappity fuck Anya? This, this is, Xander is Alistair, and some random is Jesse, and I'm Buffy, and are you God?!"
Anya laughs and hugs her.
"Calm down and I think I can explain! Well, ish."
Anya hugs! Flynn snuggles right in. "Okay, and help, because this is season one, and I really don't want to die, however briefly."
She pets her hair. "I'm not going to let you die, you boob. At least not permanently. I am a Kind God. Ish."
"Heavy on the ish," Flynn jokes humorously, before becoming suddenly more serious. "More importantly, I would like to permanently avoid you getting eaten by Hyena possessed asshole teens. The Anya snuggles I require would be much less fun when your insides are on the outside."
"I don't really plan to stick around as the Principal. Maybe I'll try being the Magic Shop owner instead. Without the being murdered part."
"Just bounce around between NPC types so you can just, like, be nearby? Option."
"Would that make you feel better? You are the Slayer now."
"I mean, I tested the Slayer-strength the minute I recognised where I was, but like, on a moving box. But just, having a destiny and a whole thing and a job where people surviving relies on me being good at things makes my brain 'AHHHHH' because the most I usually do is languish on the moral and philosophical differences between Shakespeare's original works and transformative works thereof. I'm a lit student, not a fighter of the dark, dank, and devilish."
By the end, Flynn has worked up to a solid panic ramble.
"Flynn, you're the Slayer now. Like I would let you go about not having all the skills thereof. You can fight and protect people. Slayer multitasking. Your brain works like that now."
"Yee, good, wait... Depression? Is that a thing? I mean, the bods all different, and I don't feel any of the regular gender confusion that existed even on a girl day, so maybe no genderfluid, which I'm apathetic about, but, like, how much can you fix?"
"I've fixed what I can. Though I wouldn't really call it fixed. Just slotted you into this shape so you have an easier time of it."
"Thank god, juggling school and slayering is gonna be hard enough without the usual balls in the air. You're my favourite of the Anya's."
"Well, I hope so. Do you think you need anything else? I'm pretty hopped up on godly juice right now."
"I mean, I don't think so, will I have to get creepily condescended to by Flutie later or does this count? Honestly, I'm just trying to get my head on straight, I've always been, at most, comedic relief sidekick material, and now I'm going to have to... Wait, I'm a teenager again. I'm back in highschool. Gods damn it, this is not my favourite Monday of the bunch."
"Babe. Breathe. You survived high school the first time. Plus this time you have superpowers."
"That's worse, I'm gonna break an asshole's nose, probably. Have you seen me with impulse control? No, because it's never happened in my life."