Buffy: Willow, you okay?
Willow: Yeah, I'm fine. The shaking is a side effect of the fear.
Buffy: If it weren't for that clouding spell...
Willow: Yeah, it went good. Nothing melted like last time.
Buffy: Or both. And, you know, with the pain and the death, maybe you shouldn't be leaping into the fray like that. Maybe you should be... fray-adjacent.
Xander: Excuse me? Who, at a crucial moment, distracted the lead demon by allowing her to pummel him about the head?
Faith: Yeah, that was real manly how you shrieked and all.
Xander: I think you'll find that was more of a bellow.
Buffy: Should we burn them?
Willow: I brought marshmallows! ... Occasionally, I'm callous and strange.
Xander: But gee, Mr. White, if Clark and Lois get all the good stories, I'll never be a good reporter.
Giles: Hmm?
Xander: Jimmy Olsen jokes are pretty much gonna be lost on you, huh?
Giles: Sorry.
Jack: What are you, retarded?
Xander: No. No, I had to take that test when I was seven. A little slow in some stuff, mostly math and spatial relations, but certainly not challenged or anything.
Xander: Why is it that I've come face-to-face with vampires, demons, the most hideous creatures hell ever spit out, and I'm still afraid of a little bully like Jack O'Toole?
Cordelia: Because, unlike all those other creatures that you've come face-to-face with, Jack actually noticed you were there.
Xander: Why am I surprised by how comforting you're not?
Xander: You're in a band. That's like a business-class ticket to cool with complimentary mojo after take-off. I gotta learn an instrument. Is it hard to play guitar?
Oz: Not the way I play it.
Xander: What do I have?
Oz: An exciting new obsession. Which I feel makes you very special.
Xander: Now with the mocking.
Buffy: Do you remember the demon that almost got out the night I died?
Willow: Every nightmare I had that doesn't revolve around academic failure or public nudity is about that thing. In fact, once I dreamt that it attacked me while I was late for a test, and naked.
Xander: What do you mean, what is it? It's my *thing*.
Willow: Your thing?
Xander: My thing!
Buffy: Is this a penis metaphor?
Xander: It's my thing that makes me cool. You know, that makes me unique. I'm Car Guy. Guy with the car.
Xander: Like a dream about warm, sticky things.
Xander: Angel! Buddy! Friend-buddy. You want to sit and talk?
Xander: You know, it's not like I haven't helped before. I've done some quality violence for these people.
Buffy: 'Sisterhood of Jhe. Race of female demons, fierce warriors...' Eww. '...celebrate victory in battle by eating their foes.' They couldn't just pour Gatorade on each other?
Xander: Yeah, great knife. Although I think it may technically be a sword.
Jack: She's called Katie.
Xander: You gave it a girl's name. How very serial killer of you.
Xander: No. Just blowing off steam. Two guys rasslin'. But not in a gay way.
Jack: I like you.
Xander: Yay?
Bob: Whoa! Walker, Texas Ranger. You been taping 'em?
Jack: Every ep.
Willy: If I were you... I'd go find Angel... go somewhere quiet together. I'd be thinking about how I wanna spend my last night on Earth.
Xander: Did I mention that I'm having a very strange night?
Xander: Long gone. Probably loaded with supplies. Gotta think. I can't believe I had sex. Okay, bombs. Already dead guys with bombs.
Buffy: I don't know what to do.
Angel: Then let me decide for you. I can face this thing.
Buffy: You can't.
Angel: Look, I, I can at least buy you enough time for Willow's spell to bind it. Buffy, this is worse than anything we've ever faced. It's the only way.
Buffy: I can't watch you die again.
Angel: I love you.
Buffy: I love you.
Angel: Nothing can change that. Not even death.
Xander: Less than two minutes. Dumb guy. Little bomb. How hard can it be?
Jack: I'm gonna carve you up and serve you with gravy. You piss me off, boy. Now you pay the price. First the eyes, then the tongue. I'm gonna break every one of your fingers.
Xander: You gonna do all that in forty-nine seconds?
