.
 Laugh Lines, Love Lines

Dopplegangland  

Anya: For a thousand years I wielded the powers of The Wish. I brought ruin to the heads of unfaithful men. I brought forth destruction and chaos for the pleasure of the lower beings. I was feared and worshipped across the mortal globe. And now I'm stuck at Sunnydale High. Mortal. Child. And I'm flunking math.

Buffy: The Watchers Council shrink is heavy into tests. He's got tests for everything. T.A.T.s, Rorschach, associative logic...He even has that test to see if you're crazy that asks if you ever hear voices or you ever wanted to be a florist.
Willow: Ooo, I used to want...Wait. Florist means crazy, right? I never wanted to do that.

Willow: You think I'm boring.
Oz: I'd call that a radical interpretation of the text.

Willow: No, it's fine. I'm 'Old Reliable'.
Xander: She just means, you know, the geyser. You're like a geyser of fun that goes off at regular intervals.
Willow: That's Old Faithful.
Xander: Isn't that the dog that, that the guy had to shoot...
Willow: That's Old Yeller.
Buffy: Xander, I beg you not to help me.

Willow: Yeah, that's me. Reliable-Dog-Geyser Person.

Willow: That, that-that wasn't just some temporal fold, that was some weird Hell place. I-I don't think you're telling me everything.
Anya: I swear, I am just trying to find my necklace.
Willow: Well, did you try looking inside the sofa in Hell?
Anya: Look, we'll just try it again, and...
Willow: No! I-I think emphatically not!

Xander: Will, changing the look not an idle threat with you.

Xander: Uh... Will, this is verging on naughty touching here. Don't wanna fall back on bad habits. Hands! Hands in new places!

Buffy: Aren't you gonna introduce me to your...Holy *God*, you're Willow.

Giles: She was truly the finest of all of us.
Xander: Way better than me.
Giles: Much, much better.

Buffy: Willow, you're alive?
Willow: Aren't I usually?

Willow: Say, you all didn't happen to do a bunch of drugs, did ya?

Giles: Well, uh... something... something, um, very strange is happening.
Xander: Can you believe the Watcher's Council let this guy go?

Anya: What a day. Gimme a beer.
Bartender: I.D...I.D.
Anya: I'm eleven hundred and twenty years old! Just gimme a frickin' beer!
Bartender: I.D.
Anya: Gimme a Coke.

Devon: Man, we need a roadie. Other bands have roadies.
Oz: Well, other bands know more than three chords. Your professional bands can play up to six, sometimes seven completely different chords.
Devon: That's just, like, fruity jazz bands.

Angel: Why don't I believe him?
Oz: Well, he lacks credibility.

Oz: Can you get outta here?
Angel: Skylight in the roof. I can make it.
Oz: I think we need some backup.
Angel: I think I'm needed here.
Oz: Ten to one. Could get pointless.

Willow: Oh, right. Me and Oz play 'Mistress of Pain' every night.
Xander: Did anyone else just go to a scary visual place?
Buffy: Oh, yeah.

Angel: Willow's dead...Hey, Willow...Wait a second.
Xander: We're right there with you, buddy.

Buffy: Should we call Faith?
Giles: No, I don't want her in combat yet. Not around civilians.
Xander: Hear, hear.

Evil Willow: Well, look at me. I'm all fuzzy.

Willow: It's horrible! That's me as a vampire? I'm so evil and... skanky. And I think I'm kinda gay.
Buffy: Willow, just remember, a vampire's personality has nothing to do with the person it was.
Angel: Well, actually... That's a good point.

Anya: Vampires. Always thinking with your teeth.

Xander: So, um, in your reality, I'm like this bad-ass vampire, huh? People afraid of me? Oh, yeah. I'm bad.


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