Spike: How can I thank you, you mysterious, black-clad hunk of a night thing? No need, little lady, your tears of gratitude are enough for me. You see, I was once a badass vampire, but love and a pesky curse defanged me. Now I'm just a big, fluffy puppy with bad teeth. No, not the hair! Never the hair! But there must be someway I can show my appreciation. No, helping those in need's my job, - and working up a load of sexual tension, and prancing away like a magnificent poof is truly thanks enough! I understand. I have a nephew who is gay, so... Say no more. Evil's still afoot! And I'm almost out of that Nancy-boy hair-gel that I like so much. Quickly to the Angel-mobile, away!
Oz: Hello, L.A.
Cordelia: Oz? Oh, my god. Oz. It's so good to see you. Good ole Oz! Oz. Oz!
Doyle: Let me just take a stab at it, you'd be Oz?
Oz: Good guess.
Cordelia: This is so cool! I mean, here you are in L.A., and you're the total embodiment of all things Sunnydale.
Oz: It's a burden, but I manage.
Cordelia: We have some serious catching up to do. How is everything? How's - how's the bronze?
Oz: The same.
Cordelia: And the gang?
Oz: They're good.
Cordelia: Good? - Good! - Good.
Oz: Are we done?
Cordelia: Completely. Oh, this is Doyle. He - air quote - works here.
Angel: Nice surprise.
Angel: Staying long?
Oz: Few days.
Doyle: Are they always like this?
Oz: No, we're usually laconic.
Oz: She is good. - She is Buffy.
Angel: So she sent you.
Oz: I was headed this way.
Cordelia: And she didn't even send a note? Wow. That's really - this is one of those times when I should just shy away from the topic, isn't it?
Spike: Why? Because you are vampire detective now? What's next? Vampire cowboy? Vampire fireman? Oh, vampire ballerina.
Angel: I do like to work with my legs.
Spike: Cordelia. You look smashing. Did you lose weight?
Cordelia: Yes, there is this great gym at - hey!
Cordelia: Frankie Tripod? Oh, I get it. Some kind of three-legged monster, right?
Doyle: No, he's human.
Cordelia: Then why is his name... Oh...
Rachel: I'm scared, Angel, I'm more scared of me right now than I am of him.
Angel: You're at a crossroads, I know. It's either go for the easy fix and wait for the consequences, or take the hard road and go with faith.
Rachel: Oh, god. You're not from that freaky church on Sunset, are you?
Angel: In yourself. That kind of faith.
Cordlia: Oh, and this one time he and Dru raised this demon that burned people from the inside. It was this whole weird thing with an arm in a box.
Doyle: An arm in a box?
Spike: Marcus is an expert. Some say artist, but I've never been comfortable with labels. - He's a bloody king of tortue, he is. Humans, demons, - politicians, makes no difference.
Marcus: And he has a soul.
Spike: Right, vampire with a soul. Cursy-cursed to walk the earth trying to do good. That's not going to be a problem, is it?
Marcus: Oh the contrary. Creatures with souls have something to lose.
Spike: Someone's having shish kabob.
Spike: I hired a guy who doesn't care about the ring, or anything else on God's green earth except taking blokes apart one piece at a time. - It's called addiction, Angel. We all have it. - I believe yours in named Slutty the Vamprie Slayer. Thank you! - Speaking of little Buff, I ran into her recently. Your name didn't come up. Although she has been awful busy jumping the bones of the first lunk-head that came along. Good-looking fellow - used her shamelessly. - She is cute when she is hurting, isn't she?
Angel: I think she's cuter when she's kicking your ass.
Marcus: Most things that live and breath hate the dark and love the light. We are different though, aren't we? We hate the light of day, and it hates us back in kind. - You hid the ring Angel, or you could be walking in the light right now. So I have to wonder: what do you want if not the ring? It's through the pain that we find the truth of who we are. It strips us of our defenses. We are made innocent again like children.
Cordelia: I don't trust you.
Spike: To coin a popular Sunnydale phrase: 'duh!'
Marcus: What do you want, Angel? I think I know, but I'd like to hear it from you. The truth. I'll know if you're lying.
Angel: I want -- forgiveness.
Marcus: Yes. That's the truth, - and you want to earn it. You're not the type that takes the easy way out. Which is why I like you so much. In the end you won't feel guilt - or remorse - or anything but pure darkness. In the end - the ring, the past - none of it will mean anything anymore. You'll be free. I promise.
Cordelia: This is not a needle in a haystack, this is a needle in Kansas.
Spike: Where is the ring? - Bloody hell.
Spike: Well that cinches it. No more partners. From now on I'm my own man. A lone wolf. Sole survivor. Look out, here comes Spike! The baddest mother... Ahh!
Oz: You're -- incredibly pale.
Cordelia: Look, you should lie down. We should take you home.
Doyle: Just give him a minute.
Oz: He's pale. Paler than most people.
Doyle: You got a real addiction to the brooding part of life. Anyone ever tell you that?
Angel: Once or twice.
Doyle: I mean think of all the daytime people you could help between 9 and 5.
Angel: They have help. The whole world is designed for them, so much that they have no idea what goes on around them after dark. They don't see the weak ones lost in the night, - or the things that prey on them. And if I join them, maybe I'd stop seeing, too.
Doyle: And who'd look out for all the insomniacs?
Angel: I don't know about you, but I had a nice day. - You know, except for the bulk part of it, where I was nearly tortured to death.