S: Okay, these two are dead. Why?
R: 'Cause the black chick always gets it first?
B: What was that, Rona?
R: I'm dead because he's a vampire. I don't have Slayer strength, Slayer speed... it wasn't a fair fight.
S: Fine. You think I care if it was a fair fight?
V: No. No-no sir. You don't play by the rules and I've learned a valuable lesson of some sort.
B: Rona, what did your instincts tell you to do just then?
R: Block his attack. Keep him off balance, gain the advantage.
B: No, they didn't.
R: They told me to run.
V: They told me to run. They're still sort of telling me to run.
R: That's hot.
M: So, we're supposed to, like, make out with him or something?
V: Careful, Buffy. Just when you think it's part of the lesson, he'll hurt your arm.
B: You're all gonna die. But you knew that already. 'Cause that's the cool reward for being human, the big dessert at the end of the meal.
B: Oh, goodie. Rapt attention. I love that so much.
B: Best we can tell, he, or, more precisely, it was putting a lot of stock in that uber-vamp thing, the chaka khan.
B: I'm sorry. If you're gonna take a shower at my house, lock the door. Of course they're curious.
Am: Do people ever think you're weird?
B: I guess, sure, in a... charming, endearing, lovable... yeah.
Am: Is it weird? We're mean to each other, and we like each other.
B: Well, it depends. I mean, sometimes that's how people relate. Being mean to each other. Even mortal enemies... Then with the... and that leads to no good. Absolutely no good and much confusion. And then it's over, absolutely, seriously, definitely over, and that's confusing too, the over part-- which it is, over. So, maybe.
An: Why do we always have to yell!?
B: Hey, everybody, look. It's Willow. Perhaps with a blunt weapon of some sort.
X: Wait, the seers couldn't find out her name, or, like, her address or anything? Am I getting the definition of "seer" wrong?
M: Ooh, crossbow! Gotta love it. Feels like I'm storming a castle.
R: You do a lot of that, do you?
D: Okay, see, that's why we don't point the weapons in the kitchen.
V: It's not loaded.
D: That's always the lead quote under the headline, "Household crossbow accident claims teen."
V: Oh, a mace!
D: Yeah, that's better.
R: I like the feel of wood in my hand.
K: Lost me there.
An: I'm not begging.
B: You're like a small dog dancing for snausages.
B: He's not evil, but when he gets close to it, he picks up its flavor, like a mushroom or something.
An: It's not fair. Spike just killed people and he gets to go.
B: Spike didn't have free will. You did.
An: I hate my free will.
W: Okay, I got my tumbleweed, my eggs, got my chrysalises... chrysali? My butterfly transformer pods.
D: Could be that glamazon in gym class. What's her name? Oh! My lab partner, Margo "The Freak" Campillo. Boy, I hope not, because she totally fainted right in the middle of our fetal pig dissection. Somehow I just don't think she's cut out for the Slayage biz.
An: Killing pigs is just so wrong. And so hard.
W: The spell will lead us to the potential.
X: Or some poor soul who ate too many chimichangas.
A: Wow, it's like, one second you were this klutzy teenager with false memories and a history of kleptomania, and then suddenly you were a hero. A hero with a much abbreviated life span.
D: If I was ever the Slayer, it would mean she died.
A: Well, it's a lot like being the Pope in that way, except you don't have to be some old Catholic.
A: We also have to protect you from the eyeless guys. The ones with the sharp, sharp knives.
X: Saw the spell? Dawn, they can't see flashcards. Big ones.
An: Plucked from an ordinary life, handed a destiny.
X: Say "Skywalker" and I smack you.
A: That's because you're part of something larger. Like being swallowed... by something larger.
X: Nice job with the getting swallowed analogy.
A: Well, it's a mixed bag, you know. If she gets to be the Slayer, then her life is short and brutal, and if she doesn't, then it smells of unfulfilled potential. My swallowed analogy looks pretty sweet right now, doesn't it?
An: Well, it's almost like this metaphor for womanhood, isn't it? This sort of flowering that happens when a girl realizes that she's part of a fertile heritage stretching back to Eve, and...
X: I'll pay you to talk about "Star Wars" again.
X: She knows what this means.
A: Short, brutal life. Sharp, sharp knives. I covered this.
R: It's a bar.
K: Best damn field trip I ever took!
V: They're demons. It's a demon bar. It's like a gay bar, only with demons.
Demon: Spike! Long time. Nice of you to bring snacks.
S: Touch them and lose your privates.
V: I didn't like him
S: Nice job of blending in, girls.
R: We're a bunch of 15-year-olds in a demon bar. How much blending did you think we were gonna do?
K: You don't drink?
B: Sure I do. I mean, no, that would be wrong.
V: Do they card?
B: Nope. Go ahead. Down all the yak urine shots or pig's blood spritzers you like.
S: Got that right. Prices they charge, you should get human blood straight from the body. [Slayerettes look at him] Vampire.
B: Not a being in here that wouldn't gladly rip your throat out.
C: Buffy? Girl, how you been!?
B: Clem! You look great -- so toned.
K: He's ripping out her throat right now.
V: I could use a shot of that yak urine right about now.
D: You know something about my sister?
Am: Well, I've heard people talking. A lot of them think she's some kind of high-functioning schizophrenic, but...
D: I think I strained something. Maybe something I'll need later in life.
Am: Just suppose he got out, and was maybe, like, encouraged toward the gym while the marching band was playing. Because they way they look down on the swing choir it might be, you know, funny. I'm just sayin'.
K: It's a nest.
B: How can you tell?
K: Only a vamp could live like this.
S: Some, yeah. I mean, as a group we're not known for our tasteful decor, but in all fairness to the race... this place is seriously lacking in style.
B: Thank you, Spike.
S: Merely saying.
M: Where'd you live?
S: What, you mean before? A crypt, actually. But nicer. A bit more... I don't know if "posh" is the right word. But it was more like...
K: Excuse me? When did you find it comfy?
B: Moving on.
D: Okay, this plan of mine -- I'm not guaranteeing it'll work.
Am: Better than mine about him eating the marching band.
X: It's a harsh gig, being a potential. Just being picked out of a crowd -- danger, destiny, plus, if you act now, death.
X: They're special, no doubt. And the amazing thing is, not one of them will ever know. Not even Buffy.
D: Know what?
X: How much harder it is for the rest of us.
D: No way. They've got the...
X: Seven years, Dawn. Working with the Slayer. Seeing my friends get more and more powerful... a witch. A demon. Hell, I could fit Oz in my shaving kit, but come a full moon, he had a wolfy mojo not to be messed with. Powerful, all of them. And I'm the guy who fixes the windows.
X: You thought you were all special -- Miss Sunnydale 2003. And the minute you found out you weren't, you handed the crown to Amanda without a moment's pause. You gave her your power.
D: The power wasn't mine.
X: They'll never know how tough it is, Dawnie, to be the one who isn't Chosen, to live so near the spotlight and never step in it. But I know. I see more than anybody realizes because nobody's watching me. I saw you last night. I see you working here today. You're not special. You're extraordinary.
D: Maybe that's your power.
D: Seeing. Knowing.
X: Maybe it is. Maybe I should get a cape.
D: A cape is good.
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