Xander: Respect the cruller, and tame the doughnut!
Anya: That's still funny, sweetie.

Buffy: So did anybody... last night, you know, did anybody, um... burst into song?
Xander: Merciful Zeus!
Willow: We thought it was just us!
(all speaking at once)
Giles: Well, I sang, but I had my guitar at the hotel. That would explain the huge backing orchestra I couldn't see, and the synchronized dancing from the room-service chaps.
Willow: It was bizarre.
Tara: We were talking, and then it was like...
Buffy: Like you were in a musical?
Willow: We did a whole duet about dueling mushrooms...
Anya: ...and we were arguing and then everything rhymed and there were harmonies, and a dance with coconuts.
Willow: ...with the couscous.
Xander: It was very disturbing.

Buffy: But it seemed perfectly normal.
Xander: But disturbing, and not the natural order of things and do you think it'll happen again?

Xander: See, okay, that was disturbing.
Willow: I thought it was neat.

Buffy: Well, I'm not exactly quaking in my stylish, yet affordable boots, but there's definitely something unnatural going on here. And that doesn't usually lead to hugs and puppies.

Dawn: Oh, my god. You will never believe what happened at school today.
Buffy: Everybody started singing and dancing?
Dawn: I gave birth to a pterodactyl.
Anya: Oh my god, did it sing?

Xander: So what'd you sing about?
Dawn: Math.

Tara: That's right! The volume. The text.
Giles: What text?
Willow: The volume-y text.

Giles: Well, I'm a hair's-breadth from investigating bunnies at the moment, so I'm open to anything.

Willow: The sun is shining, there are songs going on, those guys are checking you out...
Tara: What? What are they looking at?
Willow: The hotness of you, doofus!
Tara: Those boys really thought I was hot?
Willow: Entirely!
Tara: Oh, my god. I'm cured! I want the boys!
Willow: Do I have to fight to keep you? 'Cause I'm not large with the butch.

Xander: You see the way they were with each other? The get-a-roominess to them? I bet they're... (notices Dawn) singing. They're probably singing right now.

Dawn: Besides, it's all kind of romantic.
Xander & Buffy: No, it's not.

Sweet: That's entertainment.

Anya: You don't have to go to work?
Xander: No, I shut the crew down for the day. My guys started dancing around me. I don't know if I can deal. It's a flab thing. So, waffles?
Anya: Will you still make me waffles when we're married?
Xander: No, I'll only make them for myself, but by California law, you will own half of them.

Xander: It's a nightmare. It's a plague. It's like a nightmare about a plague.
(overlapping dialogue)
Xander: It was just, like, I didn't want to be saying things, but they just kept pouring out. And they rhymed, and they were mean. And my eyes aren't beady!
Anya: It has to be stopped. It's like we're being watched. Like there was a wall missing in our apartment. Like there were only three walls and not a fourth wall... and my toes aren't hairy!

Anya: Clearly our number is a retro-pastiche that's never going to be a break-away pop hit.

Xander: Work with me, British-man. Give me an axe and show me where to point it.

Xander: Somebody set people on fire? That's nuts.
Anya: I don't know. One more verse of our little ditty, and I would have been looking for a gas can.

Giles: I was able to examine the body while police were taking witness arias.

Xander: Okay, but we're sure that the things are related -- the singing and dancing and burning and dying?

Spike: The sun sets, and she appears. Come to serenade me?

Spike: Well, I've seen some damn funny things the last two days. 600-pound Chirago demon making like Yma Sumac - that one'll stay with you.

Spike: Drink?
Buffy: A world of no.

Spike: You've just come to pump me for information.
Buffy: What else would I want to pump you for? I really just said that, didn't I?

Spike: So... you're not staying, then?

Tara: Lot of homework?
Dawn: Ah, math. It seemed cooler when we were singing about it.

Tara: Willow said they have a lead on the whole musical-extravaganza evil. This demon that can be summoned - some sort of lord of the dance. But not the scary one - just a demon.

Dawn: It gives me belly rumblings when you guys fight.

Dawn: Yes, the 15-year-old can spend half-an-hour alone in her locked house.

Buffy: I feel like I should bow, or have honor or something.

Buffy: I'm just worried this whole session's going to turn into some training montage from an 80's movie.
Giles: Well, if we hear any inspirational power chords, we'll just lie down until they go away.

Buffy: Yeah, I'm pretty spry for a corpse.

Spike: Strong. Someday, he'll be a real boy.

Buffy: So, Dawn's in trouble. Must be Tuesday.

Anya: Dawn may have had the wrong idea in summoning this creature, but I've seen some of these Underworld child-bride deals, and they never end well. Maybe once.

Giles: If I want your opinion, Spike, I'll... I'll never want your opinion.

Spike: Forget them, Slayer. I got your back.
Buffy: Thought you wanted me to stay away from you. Isn't that what you sang?
Xander: Spike sing a wittle song?
Anya: Would you say it was a break-away pop hit or more of a book number?
Xander: Let it go, sweetie.
Spike: Fine. I hope you dance till you burn. You and the little bit.

Buffy: What do you expect me to do?
Giles: Your best.

Sweet: I love a good entrance.
Buffy: How are you with death scenes?

Buffy: You got a name?
Sweet: I've got a hundred.
Buffy: Well, I ought to know what to call you if you're gonna be my brother-in-law.

Sweet: What if I kill you?
Buffy: Trust me, won't help.
Sweet: Oh, that's gloomy.
Buffy: That's life.

Dawn: The hardest thing in this world is to live in it.

Sweet: Now, that was a show-stopping number. Not quite the fireworks that I was looking for...

Giles: If it was in the shop, then one of us probably...
(Xander raised his hand)
Anya: Xander!
Xander: Well, I didn't know what was gonna happen! I just thought there was gonna be dances and songs.

Sweet: I think everything worked out just fine.
Xander: Does this mean that I have to... be your Queen?
Sweet: It's tempting. But I think we'll waive that clause just this once.

Sweet: Big smiles, everyone. You beat the bad guy.

Spike: You should go back inside. Finish the big group sing, get your kumba-yayas out.
Buffy: I don't want to.
Spike: The day you suss out what you do want, there'll probably be a parade. Seventy-six bloody trombones.