Angel: I really hate this place!

Wesley: Remind me again how you ended up in the front seat?
Spike: I called shotgun.

Five: You were going to drag me into your quest to find the Aztec warrior.
Angel: No I wasn't! I was going to give you some mail!
Five: Oh--sorry.

Angel: Hey Wes did you know that the devil built a robot?
Wesley: El Diablo Rototica. Why?
Angel: Nobody ever tells me anything.

Angel: We're trying to kill it--not pin it! (seconds later) Ok--pinning works.

Angel: I'm just...I don't know, just feeling a bit...
Spike: Squishy?
Angel: Disconnected.
Spike: Are you serious? Here you are, finally living a piece of the high life--new clothes, new cars, my old tumble fetching you tasty snacks--and what's your gripe? "I feel disconnected." You want to feel disconnected, try being a bloody ghost for a bit. Try bobbin' around with no touch or taste or smell. Not many fates worse than that, I'd wager. (Number 5 walks past with mail cart) Ok, maybe that.

Lorne: Once the word spreads you beat up an innocent old man, well, the truly terrible will think twice before going toe-to-toe with our Avenging Angel.
Spike: Yes. The geriatric community will be soiling their nappies when they hear you're on the case. Bravo.

Angel: The reason why I know this Aztec demon is not eating the hearts of heroes is... He didn't take mine. Am I honestly supposed to believe that it had no problem sticking a sword in my stomach but then decided, "Oh wait, his heart's not heroic enough?" Ha! I don't think so.
Wesley: I understand you're feeling rejected. But this Aztec warrior... it wants the hearts for sustenance. It wants it for the meat, not the metaphor.
Angel: What are you saying?
Gunn: As meat goes, your heart's a dried-up hunk of gnarly-ass beef jerky.
Angel: Yeah, but, stick a piece of wood in it, and I still die.