Spike: Okay, these two are dead. Why?
Rona: 'Cause the black chick always gets it first?
Buffy: Are you okay?
Spike: Fine. A couple of ribs ain't quite set right since... I'm fine.
Buffy: Let me see.
Spike: I'll be okay.
Rona: That's hot.
Molly: So we're supposed to like make out with them or something?
Buffy: You're all gonna die. But you knew that already. 'Cause that's the cool reward for being human. Big dessert at the end of the meal. Don't kid yourselves, you guys. This whole thing is all about death. You think you're different 'cause you might be the next slayer? Death is what a slayer breathes, what a slayer dreams about when she sleeps. Death is what a slayer lives. My death could make you the next slayer. Oh, goody. Rapt attention. I love that so much. Now, where was I? Ah. If we go with what Anya's resources are telling us, then The First is in remission for a while, which we think means advantage us.
Rona: Well, what does that mean? About The First?
Buffy: As best we can tell, he—or precisely "it"—was putting a lot of stock in that UberVamp thing, the Chaka Khan.
Buffy: So when I kicked its ass, the whole Firsty circus decided to back off for a while. Good news? Means we probably don't have to worry about it pulling Spike's strings for a while. Here's the half-empty. Time away means time to regroup. And part of that regrouping is coming back stronger than ever. The odds are against us. Time is against us. And some of us will die in this battle. Decide now that it's not going to be you. I know you're all tired, far away from home, anxious. But you're all special. Most people in this world have no idea why they're here or what they want to do. You do. You have a mission, a reason for being here. You're not here by chance. You're here because you are the chosen ones. Dawn, you better hurry up and eat something so you're not late for school.
Buffy: Xander, I know. I'm sorry— If you're gonna take a shower at my house, lock the door. Of course they're curious.
Amanda: Do people ever think you're weird?
Buffy: Um, I guess. Sure, in a charming, endearing, loveable... yeah.
Amanda: I feel like people think I'm weird, and so they pick on me. But I might be— weird.
Amanda: Is it weird? We're mean to each other, and we like each other.
Buffy: Well, it depends. Sometimes that's how people relate. Being mean to each other. Even mortal enemies— Then with the— And that leads to no good, absolutely no good. And much confusion. A-and then it's over. Absolutely, seriously, definitely over. And that's confusing too. The over part. Which it is. Over! So, maybe.
Andrew: Why do we always have to yell?
Buffy: I was only gone a couple of hours.
Buffy: Oh, look everybody. It's Willow. Perhaps with a blunt weapon of some sort.
Buffy: I was gonna take the girls out tonight, a little show and tell, but maybe now I shouldn't.
Andrew: They were so excited. You're gonna break their little hearts.
Buffy: This town is lousy with Bringers. I don't want to risk that they find this new girl first.
Willow: No, you should go. I can do a spell to find her tonight. I just have to get together a few ingredients. But you-you shouldn't skip your training, it's too important.
Dawn: OK, see, that's why we don't point the weapons in the kitchen.
Vi: It's not loaded.
Dawn: That's always the lead quote under the headline "Household Crossbow Accident Claims Teen".
Rona: Gotta go with the stake. It's classic. I like the feel of wood in my hand.
Kennedy: Lost me there.
Andrew: I'm not begging.
Buffy: You're like a small dog dancing for Snausages.
Andrew: You don't want me coming along 'cause you think I'm evil.
Vi: He doesn't seem evil, exactly.
Buffy: He's not evil, but when he gets close to it, he picks up its flavor like a mushroom or something.
Andrew: It's not fair. Spike just killed people, and he gets to go.
Buffy: Spike didn't have free will and you did.
Andrew: I hate my free will.
Dawn: Hey, do you think this girl, this potential, goes to Sunnydale?
Willow: Hmm. Well, I guess probably, huh? I mean, she's got to be about that age.
Dawn: Could be anybody. Could be that glamazon in gym class, what's her name? Oh, my lab partner, Margot, the freak. Boy, I hope not, because she totally fainted right in the middle of our fetal pig dissection. Somehow I just don't think she's cut out for the slayage biz.
Andrew: Killing pigs is just so wrong. And also hard.
Xander: Oh, good God, what is that smell?
Anya: I'm fairly sure that's the smell of a hardboiled egg being thrown into a fire.
Willow: The smell will lead us to the potential.
Xander: Or some poor soul who ate too many chimichangas.
Dawn: Maybe y-you did it wrong? Was it a-ambiguous in any way? Did you maybe say potential sailors? 'Cause I-I do like the water.
Anya: Wow, it's like one second you were this klutzy teenager with fake memories and a history of kleptomania, and then—then suddenly you're a hero, a hero with a much abbreviated lifespan.
Anya: Dawn's gonna be a slayer.
Andrew: Holy crap! Excuse me. Plucked from an ordinary life, handed a destiny—
Xander: Say Skywalker, and I smack ya.
Anya: That's because you're a part of something larger. Like being swallowed. By something larger.
Dawn: This-this is too much for my head again. (runs upstairs) I can't. I—I need to be—
Xander: Nice job with the "getting swallowed" analogy.
Anya: Well, it is a mixed bag, you know. If she gets to be the slayer, then her life is short and brutal. And if she doesn't, then it smells of unfulfilled potential. My swallowed analogy looks pretty sweet right now, doesn't it?
Willow: It's not like that. It's like, she's part of this huge power. I know what that feels like. It feels wonderful.
Andrew: Yes, Willow so captured it. It's like—well, it's almost like this metaphor for womanhood, isn't it? The sort of flowering that happens when a girl realizes that she's part of a fertile heritage stretching back to Eve, and—
Xander: I'll pay you to talk about Star Wars again.
Xander: I'm not talking about that. I mean, what do you think Buffy's going to do with this information? Jump up and down? Teach Dawn the secret handshake? She know what this means.
Anya: Short, brutal life. Sharp, sharp knives. I covered this.
Xander: Right. You think Buffy really wants that for Dawn? And besides, Dawn doesn't want us telling her yet.
Kennedy: You don't drink?
Buffy: Sure I do. I mean, no. That would be wrong.
Vi: Do they card?
Buffy: Nope, go ahead. Down all the yak urine shots or pigs blood spritzers you like.
Spike: Got that right. Prices they charge, you could get human blood straight from the body.
Dawn: You know something about my sister?
Amanda: Well, I've heard people talking. A lot of 'em think she's some kind of high-functioning schizophrenic. But I also heard that maybe— like, maybe she could help with this kind of thing. Do you think we should go get her?
Dawn: She's out. I'll take this one.
Amanda: So, I was thinking... we don't have to kill the vampire, do we?
Amanda: Just suppose he got out and was maybe like encouraged toward the gym while the marching band was playing because the way they look down on the Swing Choir. It might be, you know, funny. I'm just saying.
Molly: Where'd you live?
Spike: What, you mean before? A crypt actually, but nicer. A bit more—I don't know if posh is the right word, but it was more like—
Kennedy: Excuse me? When did you find it comfy?
Buffy: Moving on.
Buffy: The question is never "what do you think," it's always "what do you know?" You gotta know it. If you don't, if you make one mistake, it takes just one vampire to kill you. So you've got to know you can take him. Know your environment. Know what's around you, and know how to use it. In the hands of a slayer, everything is a potential weapon. If you know how to see it. When you're fighting, you have to know yourself, your brain, your body. Know how to stay calm, centered. Every move is important, every blow's got to be part of your plan 'cause you make that one mistake, and it's over. You're not the slayer. You're not a potential. You're dead. What do you know? Right now, the only thing you know for sure is you got me.
Dawn: Amanda, listen to me. Remember when you said I was special? Well, I'm not. But the thing is, you are. This is your battle, Amanda.
Amanda: No, I can't.
Dawn: You can! You've got to. Look, I've got your back, but this is something you have to do. It's something you were born to do. Here, this belongs to you.
Xander: Aw, I'm just thinking about the girls. It's a harsh gig, being a potential. Just being picked out of a crowd, danger, destiny, plus if you act now, death.
Dawn: They can handle it.
Xander: Yeah. They're special, no doubt. The amazing thing is, not one of them will ever know, not even Buffy.
Dawn: Know what?
Xander: How much harder it is for the rest of us.
Dawn: No way. They've got—
Xander: Seven years, Dawn. Working with the slayer. Seeing my friends get more and more powerful. A witch. A demon. Hell, I could fit Oz in my shaving kit, but come a full moon, he had a wolfy mojo not to be messed with. Powerful. All of them. And I'm the guy who fixes the windows.
Dawn: Well, you had that sexy army training for a while, and—and the windows really did need fixing.
Xander: I saw what you did last night.
Dawn: Yeah, I— I guess I kinda lost my head when I thought I was the slayer.
Xander: You thought you were all special. Miss Sunnydale 2003. And the minute you found out you weren't, you handed the crown to Amanda without a moment's pause. You gave her your power.
Dawn: The power wasn't mine.
Xander: They'll never know how tough it is, Dawnie, to be the one who isn't chosen. To live so near to the spotlight and never step in it. But I know. I see more than anybody realizes because nobody's watching me. I saw you last night. I see you working here today. You're not special. You're extraordinary.
Dawn: Maybe that's your power.
Dawn: Seeing. Knowing.
Xander: Maybe it is. Maybe I should get a cape.
Dawn: Cape is good.