Xander: You're gonna live in that small room over there. I know it looks like a closet, but it's a room now.
You're not gonna touch my food. I take the first shower in the morning, and if I use up all the hot water,
that's your tough noogies. And I hate this plan. Are you keeping up, or do you need some kind of English-to-ConstantPainInMyAss translation?
Xander: Is there something more emphatic than hate? Can I revile the plan? Fine. I invite you in. Nimrod.
Spike: Don't want your soddin' food anyway.
Buffy: The school basement is making him crazy. We can't just leave him there.
Xander: Why not? Crazy-Basement-Guy is better than Stalking-Buffy-Guy.
Buffy: It will. I-it already is. OK, you know, you've been out of the basement for half an hour, and you've already stopped
talking to invisible people.
Buffy: OK, so there was that one episode in the car, but—
Spike: No, bollocks to the whole thing. I don't need your mollycoddling.
Buffy: It's not coddling. Now go to your closet.
Dawn: Last night, you said you weren't helping Spike out of pity. What is it?
Buffy: It's a good question.
Dawn: Is sitting there drinking soda some kind of a Zen non-answer?
Buffy: No, I just... I don't know what I'm feeling. I think I can't stand him, but sometimes...
Dawn: You love him?
Buffy: No. I—I feel for him.
Dawn: Feel what, exactly?
Dawn: No, I'm—I'm just trying to understand. I mean, none of it makes sense. First you say Spike disgusts you, but secretly
you two are doing it like bunnies. And then Spike says he'd die for you, but he tries to rape you.
Buffy: For the record, Spike knew how wrong it was. That's why he went away.
Dawn: But to get a soul? Like that would make him a better man? Xander had a soul when he stood Anya up at the altar.
And now he says he still wants her? I just don't think it's the school basement that's making people crazy.
Buffy: I should really get back. You comin' with?
Dawn: I just don't see why people bother. I mean, you put all this energy into chasing and having and brooding and— I just
don't understand these relationships where you all do insane things.
Buffy: Bye, rant girl.
Buffy: Good thing I stopped by and heard screaming. So, I guess D'Hoffryn decided to take you out after all?
Anya: Yeah. He's, uh, not head of vengeance for nothing. Well, thank you for the generous
life-saving. Now please go away.
Buffy: Another, something bad is happening. I don't want my friends out there alone right now, OK?
Anya: Well, I-I guess you guys could use my help. Willow's not very good with the practical strategizing—
except when she's evil. And Dawn—she's not really good for anything.
Buffy: Come on, Dawnie. Come out. Dawn, sweetheart, it's not that bad.
Dawn: How would you even know? R.J.'s never gonna notice me now.
Buffy: From what you said, I'm sure he already noticed you, I mean with the falling and the—
spirit. Spirit. They said you were spirited, right?
Xander: Things are a lot better, I see.
Buffy: I don't think tonight's gonna be good for videos, Xand.
Xander: Right, with the wailing and the crying... Still better than a cozy evening with Spike. Shall I order a pizza? Don't teens
in a snit like pizza?
Dawn: It is not a snit! I-I finally met him—they guy of my dreams, OK—and I blew it. R.J. hates me now.
Xander: Remember when she used to have a crush on me? I miss the much cuter "me" crush.
Buffy: You shredded my outfit.
Dawn: I'll buy you a new one.
Buffy: That's not the point. I don't want a new cheerleading outfit.
Xander: Now, now, let's not be hasty. Not the right time.
Xander: It's the jacket. It's true. Something about the big letter on the chest makes girls get all swoony and crushy. I saw it all
the time in school. And you couldn't just pin any old felt letter to your coat and get play— not that I tried.
Xander: Well, Spike definitely seems a little more cogent, less bl-bl-bl-bl-bl.
I'm just saying... once you get back the soul, doesn't that mean you start, like, picking up your own wet towels off the floor?
Willow: No, but maybe you start to feel really bad about leaving them there.
Buffy: At least he's showering, and that's a refreshing and delightful change.
Buffy: I think that's the guy.
Willow: What guy?
Buffy: The one who, according to Dawn, is the quote smartest, funniest, coolest, hottest, and having the thickest boy
eyelashes boy in school unquote.
Willow: Check out the fan club.
Xander: Daddy like.
Buffy: What is that shirt made of? Paint?
Buffy: Glad Dawnie isn't here to see her precious boyfriend getting all thrusty with some slut-bag hussy... Oh.
Xander: Oh. Oh! No! "Daddy"— No, I wasn't— When I was looking, I wasn't— Oh, God!
Willow: Right there with ya.
Buffy: So, do you have plans later, or are you just gonna go down to the docks and wait for the fleet to come in?
Buffy: Where do I start with the bad? First, you told me you were going to the library.
Second, you do not go out on a date without informing me first. Third, Anna Nicole Smith makes you look tacky.
Principal Wood: How 'bout if you try doing your own homework for a change? No more getting these young, impressionable women
to do it for you. Avoid detention, R.J. Sound good?
Principal Wood: Oh, sweet infectious enthusiasm.
Xander: Dawn? What's wrong? Is this— Did that guy in the jacket—
Dawn: Uh! I don't even want to hear his name anymore!
Xander: I just called him "that guy in the jacket".
Dawn: That's what I used to call him in my head before I knew his real name!
R.J.: Hey, guy. It's called knocking.
Xander: I'm sorry. It's just checkout time was an hour ago. We were hoping to make up the bed. Also, it's a
classroom, you chowder-head! Now get off the boy, Buffy. We're going home.
Buffy: Dawn, please stop crying. Please? Crying isn't going to make his love for me go away, you know.
Xander: Listen, you're under a love spell. That's what this has to be.
Buffy: You're right. He's right. You're under a spell. Oh, poor little Dawnie.
Buffy: Did you hear that? It isn't real. You're just crazy.
Dawn: It is so real! I love him. You knew how I felt—like I finally found something, and you betrayed me.
Buffy: I betrayed you? You're the one that constructed this elaborate fantasy about you and my lover.
Anya: Crazy little lust puppies, aren't they?
Xander: Well, at least the yelling went away. It was starting to sound like Christmas morning with my family.
Willow: Love spells. People forget how dangerous they can be.
Xander: Hey, been there... Good times.
Willow: But you don't even know him!
Anya: Yes, I do. I looked into him and saw his soul.
Willow: He was walking away, so unless his soul was in his ass—
Anya: A.J. is my best friend and my dearest darling—
Willow: It's R.J. And what you were picking up on was his deep caring and devotion to me.
Buffy: Willow, you're a gay woman—and he isn't.
Willow: This isn't about his physical presence. It's about his heart.
Anya: His physical presence has a penis!
Willow: I can work around it!
Willow: There's a simple answer to this. Just think about who loves him the most. Clearly I do, since I'm willing to look past
the whole orientation thing.
Dawn: I need him.
Anya: Well, you're gonna have to do better than that—I'd kill for him.
Willow: You'd kill for a chocolate bar.
Buffy: No. Yes! Kill for him. I'm the slayer. Slayer means kill. Oh, I'll kill the principal.
Anya: Ooh, that is hard to top.
Willow: Yeah, well I have skills. I can prove my love with magic.
Anya: Yeah, right. What're you gonna do—use magic to make him into a girl? Damn.
Buffy: You realize that Anya's probably seducing R.J. even as we speak.
Willow: My God. You think so?
Buffy: Well, I wouldn't put it past her. She's recently evil, you know.
Willow: Well, so am I. Why should I miss out?
Buffy: This is the plan? You're gonna steal R.J. by being trisected?!
Dawn: What am I—gonna compete with you? You're older and hotter and have sex that's rough and kill people. I don't
have any of that stuff. But if I did this then his whole life he'd know there was someone that loved him so much
they'd give up their life.
Dawn: And it would be true forever.
Buffy: No guy is worth your life — not ever.
Dawn: R.J. is. And don't say he isn't. Look what you were willing to do.
Buffy: Dawn, I would give him to you in a second if I could. That's how much you're scaring me.
Dawn: But I—I thought you wanted him... for you.
Buffy: Nah. Well, yeah. My God, that boy is hot. Sorry. I think I might be under a spell here.
Dawn: I hear ya.
Xander: That, my friends, is the smell of sweet, sweet, victory.
Anya: Also, burning cotton-poly blend.
Buffy: Xander, be honest. You didn't, you know, think about slipping that jacket on just a little bit?
Xander: I refuse to answer that on the grounds that it didn't fit.
Willow: Hey, Anya, you never told us what you can't believe you almost.
Anya: Almost who, now?
Willow: No, you can't be the only not embarrassed one. What did you do?
Anya: I, uh, wrote a poem. An epic poem... comparing him to a daisy and a tower and a lake.
Radio Announcer: And now the latest on Sunnydale's late-night bandit who is still at large. A masked thief held up a number of large businesses—
Anya: OK, great, ice cream. My treat.