Buffy: Spike, what are you doing here?
Spike: Same reason as you and your cub scout here, I wager. Wanted a spot of violence before bedtime.
Spike: And I should do what with my spare time? Sit at home knitting cunning sweater sets?
Spike: Oh! I saw that. Looks like neither boy is entirely welcome. You should take him home, Slayer. Make him stay there. I've got knitting needles he can borrow.
Buffy: You threw that vampire like he was a teeny-weeny little vampire.
Riley: Hey, you want to go again? Come on, I bet this place is just teeming with aerodynamic vampires.
Willow: Look at us - we're arguing! We're having a debate about a college lecture. I have dreamt of this day since... forever.
Buffy: Don't worry, Will, you still wear the smarty-pants in the family.
Buffy: I'm starting to think this working hard is hard work.
Buffy: I thought it was gonna be like in the movies -- you know, inspirational music, a montage: me sharpening my pencil, me reading, writing, falling asleep on a big pile of books with my glasses all crooked, 'cause in my montage, I have glasses. But real life is slow, and it's starting to hurt my occipital lobe.
Willow: Aw, poor Buffy's brain.
Xander: Yeah, blueprints, not a bad idea. That and getting straight, "measure twice, cut once." You know, for the longest time, I had it backwards. Messy.
Anya: Who put the monkey head near the Styx water? Do we want to pick exploded monkey out of our hair?
Willow: Oh, I feel like a witch in a magic shop!
Willow: Ooh, are these real newt eyes?
Giles: No, too rich for my blood, I'm afraid. No, these are salamander eyes. It's the cataracts which gives them their newt-like appearance. They're really equally effective, though. It's just a matter of overcoming snobbery.
Xander: I'm telling you, Giles. You've got to set up a blind taste-test and prove once and for all that generic amphibian eyeballs are just as good.
Xander: I'm the dummy man! I mean, I made the dummy.
Buffy: You're like my fairy godmother, and Santa Claus, and Q all rolled up into one. Q from Bond, not Star Trek.
Spike: Oh, Pacey! You blind idiot. Can't you see she doesn't love you?
Spike: Buffy's looking for you?
Harmony: Of course! That's why I'm on the lam. Didn't you hear? I'm totally her arch-nemesis.
Spike: Taking up smoking, are you?
Harmony: I am a villain, Spike, hello!
Buffy: Hey, I have the endurance of ten men.
Riley: Let's make it women, okay? Just for the imagery.
Joyce: You want the cereal prize, but you don't want the cereal. You are growing up.
Willow: What about a crossword? Some people say feed a cold, I say puzzle it.
Joyce: I feel silly lying here like a lump.
Willow: You can make a game out of it. A very quiet game about being a lump.
Anya: I care about you, Xander.
Xander: Thanks.
Anya: Don't be insecure.
Xander: Thanks. I won't.
Buffy: You know what else he might find homey, in a dank, unpleasant, evil sort of way? The Initiative caves.
Giles: We do have an associate who knows those caves like the back of his melanin-deprived hand.
Buffy: The guy's really starting to bug me in that special "I want to shove something wooden through his heart" kind of way.
Spike: Is it bigger than a breadbox?
Harmony: No. Four left.
Spike: So it's smaller than a breadbox?
Harmony: No. Only three.
Spike: Harmony, is it a sodding breadbox?
Spike: Oh dear, is the enormous hall monitor sick? Tell me, is he gonna die?
Spike: Little performance anxiety, eh, doc? Butterflies in the old belly? Harm, do us a favor. Shoot the nasty butterflies for the good doctor.
Tara: How'd you do that with the light?
Willow: Oh, you know, you taught me.
Tara: I taught you a teeny tinkerbell light.
Willow: Okay, so I tinkered with the tinkerbell.
Riley: Come on, your last boyfriend wasn't exactly a civilian.
Riley: Loving you is the scariest thing I've ever done, Buffy.
Buffy: I don't know why.
Harmony: Wow, Spikey, how does it feel?
Spike: Like someone's cutting into my brain with a knife, you silly bint.
Harmony: Do you know what it means that he can't hurt any living thing? It means that he can't even pick flowers.
Spike: What?! Yes, I can.
Spike: Harmony, if your incessant prattling bollixes up this operation, I'm gonna personally rip out your pink and wriggly tongue.
Spike: Bathe in the Slayer's blood. I've gonna dive in it. Swim in it. I'm gonna do the bloody backstroke.
Spike: Buffy, Buffy, Buffy! Everywhere I turn, she's there. That nasty little face, that bouncing, shampoo- commercial hair. That whole holier-than-thou attitude.
Harmony: Well, aren't we kind of unholy by definition...
