Anya: Oh no, this is a special kind of angel called a Charlie. We don't have wings, we just skate around with perfect hair fighting crime. Where's your costume?
Dawn: Like I'm six years old? Halloween's so lame.
Anya: But you get to dress up, and play games! Xander's gonna teach me a new one after work called Shiver Me Timbers. Ever play?
Tara: Uh, Dawn, Willow could use some help in magical texts.
Dawn: I'm all over it.
Anya: How 'bout you, ever play Shiver Me Timbers?
Tara: I'm not really much for the timber.
Anya: We're running low on mandrake root. Check the basement.
Buffy: Don't blame me if we have this conversation over and over... and over... and over, and over. Oh! Bell Neck. Look into it.
Spike: Come with a nice leather collar, does it?
Spike: I thought you had it to the brim with customer disservice?
Buffy: One-time deal to help out. And I mean straight time, no loop-the-loop, mummy-hand, repeat-o-vision.
Spike: Um... here. Only three to a jar. Tend to... go a bit wonky if you cram them too close.
Spike: Feel like a bit of the rough and tumble?
Spike: Me... you... patrolling? Hello?
Spike: It's not like I don't already have plans. 'Great Pumpkin's' on in twenty.
Buffy: So much easier to talk to when he wanted to kill me.
Buffy: What happened to Xander?
Giles: He kept poking me with his hook. I sent him over to charmed objects. With any luck, he'll poke the wrong one and end up in an alternate dimension inhabited by a 50-foot Giles that squishes annoying, teeny pirates.
Xander: Store go boom. Arrr.
Giles: Brooms all around then.
Willow: Or I could whip up a jaunty self-cleaning incantation. It'll be like 'Fantasia'.
Giles: And we all know how splendidly that turned out for Mickey.
Willow: I think I'm a little more adept than a cartoon mouse.
Tara: And you have more fingers, which is good cause then there's no need to wear those big white gloves to over-compensate.
Buffy: You know, if you had a real peg-leg, you wouldn't just have a lame costume, you'd actually be lame. Which is completely different.
Dawn: You do this every night?
Anya: Every time I close out the cash register. The dance of capitalist superiority.
Xander: I'm gonna marry that girl.
Buffy: What? She's fifteen and my sister, so don't even... oh.
Buffy: Did you know about this?
Giles: No. Unless I blocked it from my memory, much as I will Xander's vigorous use of his tounge.
Buffy: Is that why you're always cleaning you glasses? So you don't have to see what we're doing?
Giles: Tell no one.
Buffy: You're getting married! You!
Xander: Me. Choking.
Buffy: Oh, sorry. I just, I can't believe it. Seems like only yesterday you had to pay a girl to date you.
Xander: Like I'd ever pay... define 'date'.
Giles: Anya's a wonderful former vengeance demon, I'm sure you'll spend... many years of... non-hell dimensional bliss.
Kaltenbach: Shouldn't mess with those. Sometimes they bite.
Anya: So I was thinking maybe a June wedding. But then I remember that they always ahd the highest percentage of calls for vengeance. So now I'm leaning towards as soon as damn possible. I mean, mortal life being so short, we gotta get in as much marital bliss as we can before we wither and die. I mean, there's just so much to consider, though, I mean, planning the wedding, and, and new cars, house and babies. You have to plan for babies, or they just roughshod over your entire existence.
Xander: Yeah, y... you gotta know what to call em before they hit college.
Giles: Ah. Rupert is an exceptionally strong name.
Anya: Ha ha ha! Yeah, if we want our progeny to eat paste and have their lunch money stolen.
Buffy: All that matters is that they're happy. Everything else is thick-gravy goodness.
Anya: I mean, I am the luckiest ex-demon in the world.
Xander: Air. Sweet mother oxygen.
Xander: Deep pools of ooey delight. I'm wallowing, not drowning.
Buffy: Definite wallow action.
Justin: Shhh. I just wanna taste you.
Dawn: Shiver me timbers!
Willow: Hard to believe such a hot mama-yama came from humble, geek-infested roots.
Tara: Infested roots. Trying to turn me on?
Willow: I have to try now?
Giles: Mist. Cemetary. Halloween. Should end well. Bloody brilliant.
Zach: Dude, that sucks.
Justin: It'll only hurt for a second.
Giles: I bet you say that to all the girls.
Buffy: You were parking? With a vamp?
Dawn: I-I didn't know he was dead.
Justin: Living dead.
Dawn: Shut up!
Buffy: How could you not know?
Dawn: I just met him.
Buffy: Oh, so you went parking in the woods with a boy you just met.
Dawn: Oh, like you've never fallen for a vampire?
Buffy: That was different.
Vamp: Uh, excuse me. Can we fight now?
Buffy: Hey, didn't anyone come here to just make out?... Aw, that's sweet. You run... You scream.
Vamp: Die, Slayer.
Vamp: What is your malfunction, man?
Spike: It's Halloween, you nit. We take the night off. Those are the rules.
Vamp: Me and mine don't follow no stinkin rules. We're rebels.
Spike: No, I'm a rebel. You're an idiot. Give the lot of us a bad name.
Spike: Guess I should bugger off. Something about big bads not venturing far from their crypts on Halloween.
Buffy: Good fight.
Buffy: How's your face?
Giles: Oh, still ruggedly handsome. Grandpa, indeed. Ow.
Dawn: This the part where you tell me you're not angry, just disappointed?
Giles: Pretty much, except for the bit about not being angry.