B=Buffy, G=Giles, X=Xander, W=Willow, C=Cordelia, O=Oz, A=Angel
J=Joyce, PS=Principal Snyder, T=Mr. Trick

W: Oz! Hey! Have a seat... except, we don't have any seats.
O: It's okay, I'll just scrunch in.

W: And that's very beautiful. I think it's great when two people like two people and want to be close to them instead of anyone else.
X: Hear, hear!

C: Xander, why are you giving me a lap dance?
X: What? I just like you.

C: Why are you guys so hyper?
W: Hey, speaking of people and things they do that aren't like usual... anyone notice Buffy acting sort of different?
X: Let's see -- Killing zombies... torching sewer monsters... and, no, that's pretty much the same old Buffster.

W: A boyfriend? Why wouldn't she tell us?
C: Excuse me? When your last steady killed half the class, and then your rebound guy sends you a dump-o-gram? It makes a girl shy.
X: But we're the best of Buffy's bestest buds. She'd tell us.
B: Tell you what?
W: About your new boyfriend, who we made up... unless we didn't?
B: This was a topic of discussion?
O: Well, raised, but never discussed.

B: I wouldn't use the word "dating", but I am going out with somebody - tonight, as a matter of fact.
W: Really? Who?
F: Yo, what's up? Hey, time to motivate.
B: Really, we're just good friends.

B: Synchronized slaying.
F: New Olympic category?

B: What do you think?
P: Sloppy. You telegraph punches, leave blind sides open, and for a school night slaying, take entirely too much time.

F: No offense, lady, I just have this problem with authority figures. They end up kind of dead.

P: Do you have Hume's "Paranormal Encyclopedia"? The Labyrinth maps of Malta?
G: It's on order.

F: Excuse me, Mary Poppins, but you don't seem to be listening.

P: The Council wishes me to report on the entire situation here - including you.
B: Hmm, academic probation's not so funny today, huh, Giles?
P: The fact is, there is talk in the Council that you have become a bit too... American.
G: Me?
B: Him??

G: What do you propose?
P: Well, if it's not too radical a suggestion, I thought we might kill him.

P: Lagos will be headed for the cemetery.
G: There is more than one in Sunnydale.
P: I see. How many?
G: Twelve within the city limits.

G: That was bracing.
B: Interesting lady. Can we kill her?
G: I think the Council might frown upon that.

B: Big night for us Slayer types. People to see, demons to kill.

B: It's just... old habit. Bad, bad habit - to be broken.
A: It's hard.
B: It's not hard. Cold turkey. That's the key to quitting. You think they make a patch for this?

B: I'm going to try and vent a little hormonal angst by going out there and killing a Lagos, whatever that is.
A: Lagos?
B: Some demon looking for some all-powerful thingamabob, and I got to stop him before he unleashes unholy havoc, and it's another Tuesday night in Sunnydale.

X: Hey, you're not the Watcher of me.

W: What does he want from us, anyway?
X: The number of a qualified surgeon to remove the British flag from his butt?

W: Oh, stop.
X: Right. Stop means no, and no means no, so, um, stop.

W: How'd you find it?
G: I looked.

F: Ronnie, deadbeat. Steve, klepto. Kenny... drummer. Eventually I just had to face up to my destiny as a loser magnet. Now it's strictly get some, get gone. You can't trust guys.
B: You can trust some guys. Really, I've read about them.

F: I've had my share of losers, but you... you boinked the undead.

X: Hey, Giles, here's a nifty idea. Why don't I alleviate my guilt by going out and getting myself really, really killed?

B: What am I doing? What are you doing?
A: I don't know.
B: Shame on you!

A: I think I have what you're looking for.
B: Great, just, wherever this was gift-wrapped, remind me not to shop there.
A: The Glove of Myhnegon.
B: The world's ugliest fashion accessory.

P: The pictures are fun to look at, Mr. Giles, but one really ought to read the nice words as well.

G: I am in complete control of my Slayer.
X: Giles! We have a big problem - it's Buffy.

B: What's with all the tragedy masks?

B: It's not what you think.
X: Hope not. Because I think you're harboring a vicious killer.

W: This isn't about attacking Buffy. Remember, "I" statements only - "I feel angry." "I feel worried."
C: Fine. Here's one: I feel worried... about me!

B: What is this, Demons Anonymous? I don't need an intervention here.

B: I just wanted to wait...
X: For what? For Angel to go psycho again the next time you give him a happy?

C: What gives you the right to suck face with your demon lover again?
B: It was an accident!
X: What, you just tripped and fell on his lips?

X: I don't need an excuse. I think lots of dead people actually constitutes a reason.

C: Hello? Miss Not-over-yourself-yet?

G: I won't remind you that the fate of the world often lies with the Slayer. What would be the point? Nor shall I remind you that you've jeopardized the lives of all that you hold dear by harboring a known murderer. But sadly, I must remind you that Angel tortured me... for hours... for pleasure. You should have told me he was alive. You didn't. You have no respect for me, or the job I perform.

P: A word of advice? Vampires rarely knock.

P: Do you know who the Spartans were?
F: Wild stab - a bunch of guys from Spart?

P: You will probably hate me a great deal of the time.
F: You think?

B: So, on a scale of one to a million, how much are you hating me right now?
W: Zero.

F: I say I deal with this problem right now. I say I slay.
X: Can I come?

B: Look, if you're feeling any demon-o-phobia, please... splitting is totally an option.

B: How long do you think he can stay angry at me, anyway?
W: The emotional marathon man?

W: Keeping secrets is a lot of work. One could hypothetically imagine.
B: You have no idea.
W: None whatsoever! But...

W: You know, I always consider myself a good person - floss, do my homework, never cheat. But lately, and please don't judge me on this, but I want you to be the first to know, that, that... there's a demon behind you.

B: Sorry about that. So, what were you saying?
W: Oh, I... I opened my SAT test booklet five minutes early. Just doesn't seem important now, does it?

X: Good old Sunnydale library. Fully equipped with reference books, file cards... and weapons.
F: Beauty.
X: I call crossbow.

F: Yeah, I'm thinking. Thinking Buffy's ex-meat did this!

F: How much more proof do you need?
X: Bite marks would be nice.

X: Wait!
F: For what? For you to grow a pair?

P: That's what I love about this town. Everyone's so helpful.

A: Okay. That hurt.

F: I can't believe how much I'm gonna kill you.

F: You're confused, twinkie. Let me clear you up. Vampire. Slayer. Dead vampire.

P: Faith, a word of advice. You're an idiot.

C: So there's no more glove-thingy?
X: Nah, a little living fire, a little mesquite - gone for good.
O: Sounds like we missed a lot of fun.
X: Then we're telling it wrong.

W: Well, he saved me from a horrible flamey death. That sort of makes me like him again.

X: Well, as long as she and Angel don't get pelvic, we'll be okay, I guess.

B: What are you guys talking about?
O: Oddly enough, your boyfriend. Again.

B: Are we cool?
X: Yeah. Just seeing the two of you kissing after everything that happened, I leaned toward the postal. But I trust you.
C: I don't, just for the record.

G: She was kicked out by the Council a couple of years ago for misuses of dark power. They swear there was a memo.

B: How are you?
F: 5 by 5.
B: I'll interpret that as good.

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