Buffy: Come on, Mom, please?
Joyce: I'm sorry, honey.
Buffy: Don't you understand how important this is?
Joyce: It's an outfit. An outfit that you may never buy.
Buffy: But I looked good in it.
Joyce: You looked like a streetwalker.
Buffy: But a thin streetwalker. That's probably not gonna be the winning argument, is it?
Joyce: You're just too young to wear that.
Buffy: Yeah, and I'm gonna be too young to wear it until I'm too old to wear it.
Joyce: That's the idea.

Joyce: A little responsibility is all I ask. Honestly, don't you ever think about anything besides boys and clothes?
Buffy: Saving the world from vampires?
Joyce: I swear, sometimes I don't know what goes on in your head.

Cordelia: Xander?
Xander: Shhh-sh-sh.
Cordelia: It's just that I'm worried we're gonna miss class.
Xander: You know what? This would work a lot better for me if you didn't talk.
Cordelia: Well, it'd work a lot better for me with the lights off.
Xander: Are you saying that you can't look at me when we do... whatever it is we do?
Cordelia: No, it's not that I can't, it's just more... I don't want to.
Xander: That's great! That's just dandy! We're repulsed by each other, we, we hide from our friends...
Cordelia: Well, I should hope so! Please!
Xander: All in all this is not what I'd call a big self-esteem booster.
Cordelia: Tell me about it! Just look at you! And those clothes. Where did you get those shoes?!
Xander: Okay, you know what? I don't need this.
Cordelia: Ditto! Like a hole in the head!

Mr. Whitmore: S-E-X. Sex. The sex drive in the human animal is intense. How many of us have lost countless productive hours plagued by unwanted sexual thoughts and feelings?
Xander: Yes! Mm-hm.
Mr. Whitmore: That was a rhetorical question, Mr. Harris, not a poll.
Xander: Oh.

Mr. Whitmore: Would anyone care to offer one such consequence?
Cordelia: Well, that depends. Are you talking about sex in the car or out of the car? Because I have a friend, not me, that was in a Miata at, parked at the top of the hill, and then she kicked the gearshift, and, and...
Mr. Whitmore: Yeah, I, I was thinking of something a little more commonplace, Ms. Chase.
Xander: You wanna talk negative consequence? What about the heartbreak of halitosis? I mean, a girl may seem spiffy, but if she ignores her flossing the bloom is definitely off the rose.
Cordelia: Like that compares to kissing a guy who thinks the Hoover technique is a big turn-on.
Xander: What about having to feign interest in her vapid little chit-chat just so you can get some touch?
Mr. Whitmore: Now. Another consequence of sexual activity? Anyone? Uh, else?

Willow: Buffy! How come you weren't in class?
Buffy: Vampire issues. Did Mr. Whitmore notice I was tardy?
Xander: I think the word you're searching for is 'absent'.
Willow: Tardy people show.
Buffy: Right.
Willow: And, yes, he did notice, so he wanted me to give you this.
Buffy: As far as punishments go this is fairly abstract.
Willow: No, it's your baby!
Buffy: Okay, I get it even less.
Xander: Well, you know, it's the whole 'sex leads to responsibility' thing, which I personally don't get. You gotta take care of the egg. It's a baby. You gotta keep it safe and teach it Christian values.
Willow: My egg is Jewish.
Xander: Then teach it that Dreidel song.

Buffy: I can't do this! I can't take care of things! I killed my Giga Pet. Literally, I sat on it and it broke.
Willow: You'll do fine!
Xander: Yeah, the only thing that stresses me is when do we tell them that they're adopted?

Giles: B-but, um, the good news is that they're... not amongst the great thinkers of our times. I doubt if they're up to much. They're probably just drawn here by the, uh, Hellmouth's energy.
Xander: 'Nuff said! I propose Buffy slays 'em. All in favor?
Willow: Aye!

Willow: Hey, maybe you can have Angel help you find the Gorches.
Giles: Yes! Yes, yes, that's not a bad idea. Strength in numbers.
Xander: Oh, right. I see a lotta hunting getting done in that scenario.
Buffy: Please. Like Angel and I are just helpless slaves to passion. Grow up!

Tector: That the Slayer?
Lyle: Yep.
Tector: Ain't that Angelus with her?
Lyle: Yep.
Tector: Well, how come she ain't slayin'? And how come he's about to make me blush?
Lyle: Well, I don't know, Tector. And how come you's always askin' me so many stupid questions?

Joyce: How's the parenting going?
Buffy: Fine.
Joyce: Are you sure your egg is secure in that?
Buffy: Did I ask for backseat mommying?
Joyce: Are we a little touchy this morning?
Buffy: No, I just feel all funky.
Joyce: Hmm. You don't have a fever.
Buffy: Oh, no, it's not that, I just... I didn't sleep well.
Joyce: What's the matter? Your egg keep you up all night?
Buffy: You're killing me. Parenting's a pain!
Joyce: Wait till it starts dating.

Giles: How did the, um... hunt go last night, Buffy?
Buffy: No go.
Giles: Uh, 'no', 'no' you didn't go, or, or, or you were unsuccessful?
Buffy: No Gorches.
Xander: Apparently Buffy has decided the problem with the English language is all those pesky words. You... Angel... big... smoochies?
Buffy: Shut... up.

Xander: Or perhaps it's the burden of parenthood. Notice how seriously you two have taken this egg thing. While I, in turn, have, uh, well, chosen a more balanced approach.
Willow: Xander, maybe you shouldn't...
Xander: That's exactly what I'm talking about. You can't stress over every little thing! A child picks up on that. Which is a one-way ticket to neurotic city.
Willow: It didn't break! How come it didn't break?
Xander: Which is another secret to conscientious egg care: pot of scalding water and about eight minutes.
Willow: You boiled your young?
Xander: Yeah! I know it sounds cruel, but sometimes you gotta be cruel to be kind! I mean, you can bet that little Xander here is thick skinned now.
Giles: Technically that would be cheating, yes?
Xander: No! It's like a short cut. You know, when you run a race?
Buffy: That would also be cheating.
Willow: You should be ashamed.
Giles: I suppose there is a sort of... Machiavellian ingenuity to your transgression.
Xander: I resent that! Or possibly thank you.

Cordelia: Well, I think we should look around, don't you Xander?
Xander: It can wait.
Cordelia: Well, his body could fall out of a closet somewhere. So we should check some closets to see if he's in a closet?
Xander: You're right. There could be a closet. Let's go.

Buffy: I still have to go home and fill out my egg diary.
Angel: Your what?
Buffy: Oh, I told you, that faux parenting gig we're doing at school. Like I'm really planning to have kids anytime soon. Uh, maybe someday, in the future, when I'm done having a life, but... right now kids would be just a little too much to deal with.
Angel: I wouldn't know. I don't... Well, you know, I, I can't.
Buffy: Oh. That's okay, um... I-I figured there were all sorts of things vampires couldn't do. You know, like work for the Telephone Company, or volunteer for the Red Cross, or... have little vampires.
Angel: So you don't think about the future?
Buffy: No.
Angel: Never?
Buffy: No.
Angel: You really don't care what happens a year from now? Five years from now?
Buffy: Angel, when I look into the future, a-a... all I see is you! All I want is you.
Angel: I know the feeling.

Buffy: Nice bear. Listen is your...
Cordelia: Hey, I'll have you know that my father brought this bear back from Gstaad years ago. Then all of a sudden these trendoids everywhere started sporting them. So I'm totally not wearing it. Then I thought, hey, I'm the one who started this nationwide craze! What am I ashamed of?
Buffy: Okay, Soliloquy Girl, I just wanted to ask about your egg.
Cordelia: My egg?
Buffy: Yeah. Your egg. The one Mr. Whitmore gave you.
Cordelia: It's in my bear.
Buffy: So, your egg isn't acting odd or anything?
Cordelia: It isn't acting anything. It's an egg, Buffy, it doesn't emote.

Willow: Okay. Well, bring it to the science lab, and I'll get Giles, and we'll analyze it.
Buffy: Great. You know, I always say that a day without an autopsy... is like a day without sunshine.

Xander: Can I just say Gyughhh!
Buffy: I see your 'Gyughhh!' and raise you a Nyaghhh!

Xander: So, okay! Get started, Buffy! Dissect it or something.
Buffy: Me? Why do I have to dissect it?
Xander: Uh, because you're the Slayer?
Buffy: And I slayed! My work here is done.
Xander: Oh, no, I almost ate one of those things. I think I've fulfilled my gross-out quota for the decade.

Buffy: Hey! Xander! Hey! You alright?
Xander: Last time Cordy dragged me in here it was a lot nicer.
Buffy: What?
Xander: Uh... Huh? Nothing. Uh, crazy talk. Head trauma.

Xander: Cordelia! I don't wanna hurt ya. Some of the time.

Giles: Yes, yes, uh, i-i-it was a-a, a gas leak, everyone. Uh, well, just, uh, get some air, and a... good night's rest, you know, uh, you'll be fine. These gas things... will happen. W-w-what was it really?
Xander: Stick with the gas thing. I'll fill you in tomorrow.
Giles: Right.

Willow: Did I really hit you?
Xander: You knocked me out.
Cordelia: Did I hit you?
Xander: Yes, everyone hit me.
Cordelia: Good. Well, I don't mean 'good' because I hit you, but I didn't wanna be left out.