Buffy: You can trust some guys. Really, I've read about them.

Cordelia: Excuse me? When your last steady killed half the class, and then your rebound guy sends you a dump-o-gram? It makes a girl shy.
Xander: But we're the best of Buffy's bestest buds. She'd tell us.

Buffy: Synchronized slaying.
Faith: New Olympic category?

Faith: Excuse me, Mary Poppins, but you don't seem to be listening.

Gwendolyn: The fact is, there is talk in the Council that you have become a bit too... American.
Giles: Me?
Buffy: Him?

Giles: That was bracing.
Buffy: Interesting lady. Can we kill her?
Giles: I think the Council might frown upon that.

Buffy: So... no touching. Kinda like us.

Xander: Hey, you're not the Watcher of me.

Willow: What does he want from us, anyway?
Xander: The number of a qualified surgeon to remove the British flag from his butt?

Buffy: The world's ugliest fashion accessory.

Buffy: I just wanted to wait...
Xander: For what? For Angel to go psycho again the next time you give him a happy?

Cordelia: What gives you the right to suck face with your demon lover again?
Buffy: It was an accident!
Xander: What, you just tripped and fell on his lips?

Xander: I don't need an excuse. I think lots of dead people actually constitutes a reason.

Xander: Well, as long as she and Angel don't get pelvic, we'll be okay, I guess.

Buffy: Oh God.
Angel: Buffy.
Buffy: What am I doing? What are you doing?
Angel: I don't know.
Buffy: Shame on you! Oh god.

Gwendolyn: Faith, a word of advice. You're an idiot.

Cordelia: So there's no more glove-thingy?
Xander: Nah, a little living fire, a little mesquite - gone for good.
Oz: Sounds like we missed a lot of fun.
Xander: Then we're telling it wrong.

Willow: Well, he saved me from a horrible flamey death. That sort of makes me like him again.

Buffy: How are you?
Faith: 5 by 5.
Buffy: I'll interpret that as good.