B: I thought a professional demon-chaser like yourself would have figured it out by now. I'm the Slayer. Slay-er? Chosen One. She-who-hangs-out-a-lot-in-cemeteries?

B: Look it up: Slayer, comma, The.

R: You whaled on those guys.
B: You did pretty well yourself.
R: Yeah, but I'm a walking bruise today. You see me with my clothes off, I look like a... I mean, I have bruises. I don't see a scratch on you.
B: You're not looking hard enough.
R: I'm looking pretty hard.

B: I really thought that you were a nice, normal guy.
R: I am a nice, normal guy.
B: Maybe by this town's standards, but I'm not grading on a curve.

R: Sorry I'm so excited - it's my first earthquake.
B: It's not mine.

S: Soddin' chair's bloody..... sodden.

S: I look like a plumber to you?
X: No. You look like a big mooch who doesn't lift a finger around here. But I have to get to work.
S: Yeah, delivering melted cheese on bread. Doing your part to keep America constipated.

X: You earn your keep or you don't get kept.

X: And doing a little laundry for once wouldn't kill you. Unfortunately.

W: So naturally they're dealing with the crisis the only way they know how: "Aftershock party."
B: Ah. This from the dorm that brought us the "Somebody Sneezed Party" and the "Day that ends in "Y" party."

G: It was an earthquake, Buffy. A not uncommon occurrence in Southern California. No reason to think it was anything more.
B: Oh, I so have a reason. A darn good reason. The last time we had an earthquake, I died.
G: Yes, I know that, and therefore, I completely understand your anxiety.
B: Oh, good. 'Cause I'd hate for my little untimely, horrible death concern to be ambiguous.

B: There's gonna be a lot of red faces when the world comes to an end.

R: What's a Slayer?
F: Slayer? Thrash band. Anvil-heavy guitar rock with delusions of Black Sabbath.

R: You're telling me she doesn't exist.
F: Oh, wait a sec. Am I bursting somebody's bubble here? Maybe this is a bad time to tell you about the Easter Bunny.

F: All part of the medieval folklore garbage kooks dream up to explain things we deal with every day.
R: How do *you* explain the things we deal with every day?

L: Why? So I can watch you flirt with the redhead?
P: What, Rosenberg? Yeah, right. She's just some egghead who tutored me a little in high school. I mean, she's nice, but come on, Captain of the nerd-squad.

X: I hate to break it to you, Oh Impotent One, but you're not "The Big Bad" anymore. You're not even the "Kind of Naughty."

B: Wow. I wasn't sure where the party was, and then I saw the flashing lights and ambulance, and I was like, "Right, of course. Death, carnage - it's a Buffy party."

W: I found him - this guy on the bed with me, dead. Not me dead, he dead.

F: Okay, that makes 0 for a billion. You don't got game, son.

R: Buffy - she's pretty cool, isn't she?
F: Yes, already. She's cool. She's hot. She's tepid. She's all-temperature Buffy.

W: I mean, I know the Percy thing isn't really important. It's the dead guy on the bed.
X: Yeah, that's bad, too.

W: So I'm thinking, the whatever took a bunch of the guy's blood with him. And I haven't been a nerd for a very long time! Hello! Dating a guitarist. Or I was...

G: It's the end of the world.
B, W & X: Again?!?

B: I told you. I said end of the world. And you're like, "Pooh-pooh, Southern California, pooh-pooh."
G: I'm so very sorry. My contrition completely dwarfs the impending apocalypse.
W: No, it can't be. We-we've done this already.
G: It's the end of the world. Everyone dies. It's rather important, really.
W: So what do we do?
B: I stop it.

B: I wonder where I've seen this before? Where else? The place I spend most of my waking hours memorizing stuff off the sides of mausoleums. Big, freaky cereal boxes of death.

B: Very commandery. "Lilac" notwithstanding.

B: I can't.
R: Can't talk?
B: Can't any of it. I can't be with you. It's a huge black pit of a mistake, and I can't go there again.
R: Again? You dated me before?

B: You don't know what my life is like.
R: And I'm dying to find out.
B: Dying being the operative word here.

R: I'm confused... But I can feel my skin humming. My hands, my... my every inch of me. I've never been this excited about anybody before. I'm not trying to scare you, and I'm not gonna force myself on you. But I am, by god, not gonna walk away because I think it might not work. I don't know what's happened in your past...
B: Pain. Death. Apocalypse. None of it fun.

G: A Vahrall demon.
W: Ewww.
X: I second that revulsion.

R: There's no pattern that we can discern yet, so we gotta assume it's on a basic kill-crush-destroy.

S: Good-bye, Dru. See you in hell.
W: What are you doing?
S: Bloody rot. Can't a person knock?

X: What? He wants to die, I want to help.
W: It's ooky. We know him. We can't just let him poof himself.

S: Oh, but you can. You know I'd drain you drier than the Sahara if I had half a chance. And besides, I'm beyond pathetic.

S: I mean, am I even remotely scary anymore? Tell me the truth.
W: Well, the shirt is kinda... not very threatening. And the short pants... But, you know, it could also be 'cause I know you can't bite. Which I guess isn't what you really need to hear right now...

X: Think of the happy. If we don't find what we're looking for, we're facing an apocalypse.
S: Really? You're not just saying that?

B: Actually, I need to go. Big-bad needs to be squished.

R: This thing, this you-and-me thing, it's stupid.
B: I know. Which is why we can't do it, the you-and-me thing.
R: No, I mean you're stupid. I mean... I don't mean that. No. I think maybe I do.
B: Well, with sweet talk like that, you'll definitely melt my reservations.

B: You know, there's nothing more dangerous than a psych grad student.

R: Buffy, where is the bad, here? It just turns out that we're even more well-matched than we thought we were. I mean, you're a... fry cook. And so am I.
B: Yes, but you're an amateur... fry cook, and I come from a long line of fry cooks that don't live past 25.

R: I know that it's not just the job thing. I'm sure that there's some good-looking guy who done you wrong in there, too.

W: Great, no Word of Valios.
X: Not even a syllable of Valios.
S: Which means I'm one step closer to melting in a sea of molten hell-fire, yeah?
W: You shouldn't talk like that. Yeah, okay, so you can't kill anymore, but there's other fun things you can do. You'll adjust.

S: You. Kids your age are going off to university. You've made it as far as the basement. And Red here - you couldn't even keep dog-boy happy. You can take the loser out of high school, but...
W: I see what you're doing. You're trying to get us to dust you.
S: Am not! I just don't want pity from geeks more useless than I am.
W: We're not useless. We- we help people. We fight the forces of evil.
S: Buffy fights the forces of evil. You're her groupies.

G: Oh, as usual, dear!

G: They're going to the Hellmouth. The one in the library.
B: Looks like we're going back to high school.

W: If we leave him alone, he'll stake himself.
B: And that's bad because...?

X: Ewww! Mayor meat - extra crispy.

W: I think we're near the library. Whoa. Check out the new floor plan.

S: That's right! I'm back, and I'm a bloody animal! Yeah!

W: Spike, not in the hole!
S: What? I was helping.

R: Well, hey! Willow, and Xander, right? Geeze, what are the chances, huh? Yeah, I was just passing by, and I thought I heard people inside.
W: You were just passing by, in your G.I. Joe outfit?
B: No offense, but you do look wicked conspicuous.
R: I do? Paint-ball! Yeah, I was playing paint-ball, and then the aftershock...

X: It's kinda weird being back, isn't it?
W: Yeah. Everything seems so small... and more charred and ruiny.

R: I'm just... I'm a dead man. Secret. Highly. Or it's supposed to be. And then you find out. I can deal. You're special. But last night with your friends was a disaster. I mean, could I have been less convincing? I was trained to be sneaky and stuff, and I'm like, "Hi, paint-ball, just passing by." I should have just given them my security code and rank.
B: You have a security code and rank?
R: No.

S: What's this? Sitting around watching the telly while there's evil still afoot? It's not very industrious of you. I say, we go out there, and kick a little demon ass. What, can't go without your Buffy? Is that it? Too chicken? Let's find her. She is the Chosen One, after all. Come on! Vampires! Grrr! Nasty. Let's annihilate them. For justice, and for the safety of puppies, and Christmas, right? Let's fight that evil. Let's kill something. Oh, come on!

Credit: The Sunnydale Slayers