Spike: Aw, let it go, would you? You're like a dog with a bone.
Anya: So what.
Spike: It's my bone! Just drop it.
Buffy: The Hellmouth below us is starting its semi-annual percolation. Usually blows around May.
Andrew: Where the hell have you been? This funnel cake is kicking my ass.
Buffy: This is Andrew. He's our...actually, he's our hostage.
Andrew: I like to think of myself more as a "Guest-age."
Willow: Oh. Hey. Hi. Well, Buffy, I see our preparations for the... school...pep-dance-cheer-drill-contest are really coming along. "Bring it On!"
Buffy: Will, it's okay, he knows.
Willow: Oh, thank God. If I had to explain all these weapons? I had nothing.
Anya: But you fought like such a wimpire, what with the lifting and the running.
Dawn: Smelled weird. Kinda like grandma's closet… but worse.
Buffy: I didn't know that was possible.
Xander: Well, yeah, but only because you kinda told us to. You're our leader, Buffy, as in “follow the”.
Buffy: Well, from now on I'm your leader as in “do what I say”.
Xander: Ja voll. But let's not try to forget, we're also your friends.
Xander: It's cryptic. I don't like it. Every time instructions get cryptic, someone gets hurt. Usually me.
Anya: You missed her “everyone sucks but me” speech. If she's so superior, let her find her own way back.
SHADOW MAN #3 (subtitle; Swahili): You are the Hellmouth's last guardian.
Buffy: Latest. You mean latest guardian.
SHADOW MAN #1 (subtitle; Swahili): No.
