Xander: You know, magic at the poker table qualifies as cheating.
Willow: Those things usually taste kind of tasteless, then leave a bad after-tastelessness.
Anya: Come on, somebody bet already. I've got three 'K' cards.
Willow: Guess she's out with Riley. You know how it is with a spanking new boyfriend.
Anya: Yes, we've enjoyed spanking.
Willow: I mean, they are anti-demon. P...probably pro ex-demon.
Anya: Maybe. I choose to feel threatened.
Buffy: ... A Twinkie! That's his lunch? Oh, he is so gonna be punished.
Willow: Everyone's getting spanked but me.
Spike: Hey! Wipe your feet when you enter a person's home.
Giles: Oh, yes. Careless of me. Tracking mud all over your, uh . . . mud.
Spike: And I don't want you crawling back here, knocking on my door, pleading for help the second teen witch's magic goes all wonky, or little Xander cuts a new tooth.
Willow: Wow, I've been trying to find a dolls-eye crystal my entire life. Well, since June, anyway.
Xander: Let me put it in a way you'll understand. Sell bars, make money, take Anya nice places, buy pretty things.
Riley: Hope you don't mind us tagging along.
Willow: No, no, of course not, the more the... more.
Willow: Well, what's their ultimate agenda? I mean, okay yeah, they neuter vampires and demons but then what? Are they going to
reintegrate them into society? Get them jobs as bag boys at Wal-Mart?
Buffy: Does Wal-Mart have bag boys?
Willow: Plus, don't forget that '314' thing that Ethan told Giles about.
Buffy: Well, a man that worships chaos and tries to kill you, is a man you can trust.
Walsh: You might want to be suited up for this.
Buffy: Oh, you mean the camo and stuff. I thought about it, but on me it's gonna look all Private Benjamin. Don't worry, I've patrolled in this halter many times.
Willow: Irony's kind of ironic that way.
Buffy: Questions. An Initiative faux pas, yes?
Riley: It's a little unusual. She's just not used to it. Maybe 'cause you barely ever opened your mouth in her classroom.
Spike: Close the door!
Xander: Spike. You may want to give up those morning jogs.
Giles: Remind me, what should I help you?
Spike: Because, you do that. You're the goody-good guys. You're the bloody-freaking cavalry.
Spike: Oww! Watch it. That hurts.
Giles: It doesn't appear to be a bullet. It's too deeply embedded to be a tranquilizer dart.
Spike: Also not tranquil.
Walsh: It's a low-level threat. Minimal aggression. Meager defenses.
Commando: Professor Walsh.
[He hands her a taser rifle.]
Walsh: They barely show up on the scanner and occasionally turn out to be raccoons.
Buffy: Wow. You're not crazy about raccoons, huh?
Buffy: Professor Walsh? That simple little recon you sent me on - wasn't a raccoon. Turns out it was me, trapped in the sewers with a faulty weapon and two of your pet demons. If you think that's enough to kill me, you really don't know what a Slayer is. Trust me when I say you're gonna find out.
Spike: I'm not going anywhere. Not until those bastards undo whatever that did to me. Put me back the way I was.
Xander: Sure, just explain to the nice scientist guys that you really miss killing and torturing innocent people.
Spike: You think that would work?
