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Dream Girl's Rhyme: Can't even shout, can't even cry
The Gentlemen are coming by
Looking in windows, knocking on doors
They need to take seven and they might take yours
Can't call to mom, can't say a word
You're gonna die screaming but you won't be heard.
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Buffy: Just tell me I didn't snore.
Willow: Very discrete. Minimal drooling.
Riley: So tell me about your dream. As a Psych major, I'm qualified to go, 'hmmm.'
Riley: Well, did I appear at all in this dream?
Buffy: There might have been a cameo.
Riley: Is that right?
Buffy: Maybe more like feature role.
Riley: Romantic lead?
Buffy: I'm not saying a word.
Riley: Uh, what have you got going on tonight?
Buffy: Uh, patrolling.
Buffy: Uh, petroleum.
Buffy: Uh huh.
Riley: Tonight you have crude oil?
Buffy: A-and homework.
Spike: Sometimes I like to crumble the Weetabix in the blood. Gives it a little texture.
Giles: Since the picture you just painted means that I will never touch food of any kind again, you'll just have to pick it up yourself.
Anya: You don't need me. All you care about is lots of orgasms.
(Giles and Spike stare at them.)
Xander: OK, remember how we talked about private conversations? How they're less private when they're in front of my friends?
Spike: Oh, we're not your friends; go on.
Giles: I have a friend who's coming to town, and I'd like us to be alone.
Anya: Oh, you mean an orgasm friend?
Giles: Yes, that's exactly the most appalling thing you could've said.
Spike (about Xander and Anya): I'm not having these two shag while I'm tied to a chair three feet away.
Willow: But, there's also other stuff that we might show an interest in, as a Wicca group.
Wanna Blessed Be #1: Like what?
Willow: Well, there's the wacky notion of spells. You know, conjuring, transmutation.
Wanna Blessed Be #2: Oh yeah. Then we could all get on our broomsticks and fly around on our broomsticks.
Willow: Talk. All talk. 'Blah, blah, Gaia. Blah, blah, moon. Menstrual life-force power thingy.'
Buffy: No actual witches in your witch group?
Willow: No. Bunch of wanna blessed be's. Nowadays every girl with a henna tattoo and a spice rack thinks she's a sister to the dark ones.
Willow (about Buffy and Riley's relationship): Well, get with it. I need my vicarious smoochies.
Buffy: I don't know. I get nervous and I start babbling, and he starts babbling, and it's a babblefest.
Forrest: We have a gig that would inevitably cause any girl living to think we are cool upon cool. Yet, we must Clark Kent our way through the dating scene never to use our unfair advantage... thank God we're pretty.
Spike: Like I'd bite you anyway.
Xander: Oh, you would!
Spike: Not bloody likely.
Xander: I happen to be very biteable, pal. I'm moist, and delicious.
Spike: All right, yeah, fine. You're a nummy treat.
Xander: And don't you forget it!
Spike (imitating Anya in a girly voice): Xander, don't you care about me?
Xander: Shut up.
Spike: We never talk.
Xander: Shut! Up!
Olivia: All the time you used to talk to me about witchcraft and darkness and the like, I just thought you were being pretentious.
Giles: Oh, I was. I was also right.
Olivia: So everything you told me was true?
Giles: Well, no, um, I wasn't actually one of the original members of Pink Floyd, but... but the monster stuff yes.
Riley: Well. I guess we have to talk.
Buffy: I guess we do.
(The two sit in awkward, dead silence.)