This Year's Girl

B=Buffy, G=Giles, X=Xander, W=Willow, R=Riley, S=Spike, A=Anya
F=Faith, J=Joyce, T=Tara, MW=Mayor Wilkins

X: So, here it is. The latest in state-of the art combat technology. I gotta say, it doesn't look that complicated.
B: So you can repair it?
X: Sure. Just as soon as I get my master's degree in advanced starship technology.
W: Well, why don't we experiment? Press some buttons, see what happens.
G: Well, I'd like to veto that.
X: Second. It's called a blaster, Will. A word that tends to discourage experimentation. Now, if it were called the Orgasmator, I'd be the first to try your basic button-press approach.

X: If I blow a hole in my Mom's azalea patch, the neighbors will not be pleased.

B: There's a demonoid killing machine out there, Giles. It doesn't only work the night shift.

B: Why, because ray-guns aren't in the Slayer Handbook?

B: He's the Terminator without the bashful charm.

Forrest: The shish kabob that walks like a man. Looks like you're feeling better, walking around and threatening people and all that.

Forrest: Look at you - one good conjugal visit and you're back in intensive care to stay.

W: Spread out?
B: Not too far.
X: So not a problem.

B: I've never seen anything like that.
X: And I can go a long, healthy stretch without seeing anything like that again.

B: He's studying biology - human, demon, whatever he can get his hands on and tear apart.
W: Learning what makes things work.
X: I really don't want to be around for the final exam.

X: Question: will hiding in a cabin with stockpiled chocolate goods be any part of this plan?
B: No.
X: Told you.

B: I figure I'll go in through the elevator shaft and use the cable as tow lines, then blast open the facility doors and find the infirmary.
R: Am I really worth all that?

B: Oh god, I'm sorry, did I hurt you?
R: No. A giant skewer through the ribcage hurt me. That was just a reminder.

X: That's great, Riley, and, you know, there's no polite way to ask you this, but, uh... did they put a chip in your brain?

W: Tell you what - you two crazy kids take down an unstoppable killer cyber-demon hybrid thingy, and we'll call it all even.

R: All I had in there was... this one little part of you.
B: It's just the scarf part of me, really.

B: Giles used to be part of this Council. And for years, all they ever did was give me orders.
R: Ever obey them?
B: Sure. The ones I was going to do anyway.

R: I just suck at the whole gray-area thing.

R: What are you doing?
B: I am looking for brain-washy chips in your head.
R: Finding any?

G: The puzzle, it seems to me, is why Adam has stayed dormant as long as he has.
W: When he's not making performance art out of other demons, that is.

B: What's he charging up for?
X: Based on the clues, I'll go with a killing spree.
R: And that's a best-case scenario.

X: I'd say this qualifies for a worst-timing-ever award.

X: I'd hate to see the pursuit of a homicidal lunatic get in the way of pursuing a homicidal lunatic.

W: Oh, I have an idea. Beat the crap out of her.
X: Good plan.

W: What about the Council?
X: Been there, tried that. Not unlike smothering a forest fire with napalm, as I recall.
G: Well, the Initiative, they do have containment facilities.
X: One word: evil!

W: Yeah, too bad. That was the funnest coma ever.

B: We don't know what she's thinking, what she's feeling...
X: Who she's doing.

G: Perhaps there's some form of rehabilitation we just haven't thought about.
W: And if not, ass-kicking makes a solid Plan B.

W: What did you tell him?
B: The truth - that she's my wacky identical cousin from England, and whenever she visits, hijinks ensue.
W: It's good you guys have such an honest relationship.

W: How'd you handle the Angel-y parts?
B: I did some editing.

W: Any luck?
B: I couldn't find her. Don't know exactly where to place that on the luck continuum.

B: If I were her, I'd get out of Dodge, post-hasty.
F: You're not me.

B: I've been looking for you.
F: I've been standing still for eight months, B. How hard you look?

F: That's the thing about a coma. You wake up all rested and rejuvenated, and ready for payback.
B: So much for pleasantries, huh?
F: What'd you think, I'd wake up and we'd go for tea? You tried to gut me, Blondie.

F: Try it, Red, and you lose an arm.

F: I wake up to find this blond chick isn't even dating the guy she was so nuts about before. I mean, she's moved on to the first college beefstick she meets. And not only has she forgotten about the love of her life, she's forgotten all about the chick she nearly killed for him. So that's my dream. That and some stuff about cigars and a tunnel.

F: Payback's a bitch.
W: Look who's talking.

W: Thanks for coming with. Hunting for a psychopathic super-bitch is definitely in the above-and-beyond category.
T: It's okay, really. So, what do we do if we find her?
W: Run. Flee. Maybe skedaddle.

W: What?
T: You said recon. You're, like, cool monster-fighter.
W: Well, technically, Faith isn't a monster. And as far as fighting, I'd be lucky to bruise her fist with my face.
T: Oh.
W: What?
T: Face punching. I'm not so good with the whole...
W: Swimming?
T: Violence.

W: She's like this cleavagey slutbomb walking around going, "Ooh, check me out. I'm wicked cool. I'm five-by-five."
T: Five-by-five? Five what by five what?
W: See, that's the thing. No one knows.

T: So, we recon till nightfall?
W: Then the ritual hiding begins.

S: What do you need?
X: Her. Dark hair, yea tall, name of Faith, criminally insane.
G: Have you seen her?
S: Is this bird after you?
X: In a bad way, yeah.
S: Tell you what I'll do, then. I'll head out, find this girl, tell her exactly where all of you are, and then watch... as she kills you. Can't any one of your damned little Scooby club at least try to remember that I hate you all?

S: And here I thought the evening would be dull.

S: Dark hair, this tall, name of Faith. Criminally insane. I like this girl already.
X: We're dumb.

MW: But on the other hand, heck, maybe we won. And right now, I'm on some jumbo monitor in the Richard Wilkins Museum, surrounded by a bunch of kids sitting Indian-style and looking up at my face, filled with fear and wonder. Hi, kids!

MW: Don't worry, it's not gonna bite. That's my job.

MW: Here's the good news - just because it's over for my Faith, doesn't mean she can't go out with a bang.

B: She's a very dangerous woman.
R: Okay, I get it, Faith bad. Do I look like I'm arguing?
B: Not yet. But you always make that innocent face right before you start.
R: Figured that out, huh? Damn. Took Mom twelve years to catch that one.

B: It's a long story.
R: I'm from Iowa. We drive four hours for a high-school football game. Try me.

B: And did I mention the psycho-killer part?

F:"Ruby Sunset"... "Burgundy Skyline"? "Harlot." Mm, way to go, Joyce.

F: Anyway, for real now, I'm gonna ask you something, and you gotta promise you'll be honest and not spare my feelings just 'cause I could kill you. You promise?
J: I promise.
F: Okay. How do I look?
J: Psychotic.
F: Hmmm, I was shooting for sultry, but hey...

F: You're thinking, "You'll never get away with this!" Warm?
J: Actually, I was thinking my daughter is going to kill you soon.
F: That a fact?
J: More like a bet.
F: Whoa. You got a pair on you, Joyce. I like seeing that in a woman your age.

J: Were you planning to slit my throat any time soon?

F: I mean, you're her mother, and she just leaves you here to die.

B: Hi, Mom.
J: Hi, honey.

F: Thought I'd got to the clean marine, didn't you? He's a cutie. Looks like he could use a good roll in the sack.
B: You're not his type. He's not big on sleaze.
F: He's probably just never tried it.

J: You sure you're okay?
B: Five-by-five.

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