Xander: I might need a parrot.
Willow: Huh?
Xander: Well, to go with the eye patch, to really complete the look. I think I still have that costume from Halloween.
Willow: Yeah, and don't underestimate the impact of a peg leg. Maybe the hospital can hook you up with a nice one. Maybe they have a 2-body-parts for the price of one kind of deal.
Xander: Oh, you know what the best part is? No one will ever make me watch jaws 3-D again.
Anya: OK... I know you're all upset... and I, myself, would much rather be sitting at the bedside of my one-eyed ex-fiancé than killing time here with you people in this over-crowded and might I add increasingly ripe-smelling basement. And I would be, too, if not for a certain awkward discussion he and I recently had right over there on that cot immediately following some exciting and unexpected break-up sex.
Giles: There may be demons... lurking about. You never know. He's a demon expert. He can help.
Spike: Oh, please.
Giles: Well, he can bring his pan flute thing along. Excellent. Off you go.
Kennedy: What kind of band plays during an apocalypse?
Dawn: I think this band might actually be one of the signs.
Buffy: Still able to make me see cartoon birdies all around my head? You betcha. The short lack of consciousness was nice. I feel rested.
Buffy: You sent away the one person that's been watching my back—again.
Giles: We're all watching your back.
Buffy: Funny... that's not really what it feels like.
Andrew: You sure you don't wanna stop and pick up some burgers or something, you know, road trip food?
Spike: It's not a road trip. It's a covert operation.
Andrew: Right. Right. Gotcha. I—I bet even covert operatives eat curly fries. They're really good.
Spike: Not as good as those onion blossom things.
Andrew: Ooh, I love those.
Spike: Yeah, me, too.
Andrew: It's an onion... and it's a flower. I—I don't understand how such a thing is possible.
Spike: See, the genius of it is you soak it in ice water for an hour so it holds its shape. Then you deep-fry it root-side up for about 5 minutes.
Andrew: Masterful.
Spike: Yeah. Tell anyone we had this conversation, I'll bite you.
Andrew: Right.
Xander: That's fine. Parties in this house, I usually end up having to... rebuild something.
Anya: And it's automatically you. You really do think you're better than we are.
Buffy: No, I—
Anya: But we don't know. We don't know if you're actually better. I mean, you came into the world with certain advantages, sure. I mean, that's the legacy.
Buffy: I—
Anya: But you didn't earn it. You didn't work for it. You've never had anybody come up to you and say you deserve these things more than anyone else. They were just handed to you. So that doesn't make you better than us. It makes you luckier than us.
Buffy: No. You don't get to vote until I've had my chance to pal around, you know, get everybody drunk. See, I didn't get this was a popularity contest. I should have equal time to bake them cookies, braid their hair—
Faith: Learn their names?
