Afterlife
Anya: I don't like this. Look, fire. Fire is rarely a sign of imminent safety.
Dawn: There you are. Knew you were under that dirt somewhere. You remember what Mom used to say? 'Either was that neck or plant potatoes.' Yeah, I never thought it was funny either.
Spike: You scared me half to death. Or more to death. You - I could kill you.
Dawn: Spike.
Spike: I mean it. I could rip your head off one-handed and drink from your brainstem.
Dawn: She's kind of, um...She's been through a lot... with the... death. But I think she's okay. Spike? Are you okay?
Spike: I'm... what did you do?
Dawn: Me? Nothing.
Buffy: How long was I gone?
Spike: 147 days yesterday. Uh, 148 today. Except today doesn't count, does it?
Anya: Well, yeah. I mean... jet-lag from hell has gotta be, you know, jet-lag from hell.
Anya: I don't think she's particularly normal at all.
Xander: Well, she just got back. Give it time. I bet in a week she'll be our little Buff-erin again.
Anya: Oh, yes, six or seven days, that's all you need to get over eternal hell experiences.
Xander: Look. You're just covering. Don't tell me you're not happy. Look me in the eyes and tell me when you saw Buffy alive, that wasn't the happiest moment of your entire existence.
Spike: That's the thing about magic. There's always consequences. Always!
Willow: Glad, but kind of weirded out. Which I get, you know. Lot's of 'Dear lords,' and I think I actually heard him clean his glasses.
Buffy: What did you do? Do you know what you did? You're like children. Your hands smell of death. Bitches! Filthy bitches, rattling the bones. Did you cut the throat? Did you pat its head? The blood dried on your hands, didn't it?
Tara: Oh my god, oh my god.
Buffy: You were stained. You still are. I know what you did!
Xander: Very bad. Very, very, very bad. Bad.
Anya: He's all traumatized.
Xander: But what are we gonna do? I mean, I'm feeling the need for some vigorous doing, you know?
Willow: It's okay. We just kill the beastie, and all is good. We're rolling in puppies... Right?
Anya: Well, maybe you are. Going crazy. From Hell... No. You're fine.
Anya: Uh, coffee, coffee, coffee, um, not chocolate for Dawn. You're to young for coffee.
Dawn: Idiot.
Anya: You can have my coffee.
Dawn: All of you did it. You stupid children. Did you think the blood wouldn't reach you? I smell the death on you. Look at what you've done!
Anya: Did I look like that? I hope I didn't look like that.
Willow: No, I'm sure you looked really glamorous cutting up your face.
Anya: Yes, but where did it go? I mean, evil things have plans. They have things to do.
Buffy: Your hand is hurt.
Spike: Hmm. Same with you.
Spike: Uh... I do remember what I said. The promise. To protect her. If I'd have done that... even if I didn't make it... you wouldn't have had to jump. But I want you to know I did save you. Not when it counted, of course, but... after that. Every night after that. I'd see it all again... do something different. Faster, or more clever, you know? Dozens of times, lots of different ways... Every night I save you.
Demon: You don't belong here. Did the tell you, you belonged here? Did they say this was your home again? Were you offered pretty lies, little girl? Or did they even give you a choice?
Dawn: Xander! Drive faster!
Xander: I can't!
Dawn: I could drive faster and I can't drive!
Anya: She's right. You're like a snail. A snail who's driving a car very slowly. Come on, give it the lead foot!
Demon: You're the one who's barely here. Set on this earth like a bubble. You won't even disturb the air when you go.
Dawn: That's probably the sort of thing I'm not supposed to see, right?
Buffy: And you know what they say - those of us who fail history? Doomed to repeat it in summer school.
Spike: I was gonna go inside, but I overhear you and the Super friends exchanging a special moment and I came over a bit queasy. Say, aren't you leaving a hole in the middle of some soggy group hug?
Buffy: That's okay. I can be alone with you here.
Spike: Thanks ever so.
Spike: Well, I haven't been to a hell-dimension just of late, but I know a thing or two about torment.
Buffy: I was happy. Wherever I... was... I was happy. At peace. I knew that everyone I cared about was all right. I knew it. Time... didn't mean anything... nothing had form... but I was still me, you know? And I was warm... and I was loved... and I was finished. Complete. I don't understand theology or dimensions or... any of it, really... but I think I was in heaven. And now I'm not. I was torn out of there. Pulled out... by my friends. Everything here is... hard, and bright, and violent. Everything I feel, everything I touch... this is Hell. Just getting through the next moment and the one after that... knowing what I've lost... They can never know. Never.