You can't go around hitting people. What, were you born in a barn?
Miss, if you're looking for one of those rave parties, I'm afraid you're late. Chased a bunch of kids out of here last night.
Oh, right. Yeah. Darn. My fellow ravers will be so disappointed. It was my turn to bring the Bundt cake.
Joyce: So neither of you is pregnant, failing or under indictment? Just checking.
Buffy: We knew you were feeling less-than-great so...
Joyce: Yeah, the headaches they said would go away came back and brought some friends along with.
Dawn: I told you you couldn't ditch me! Whoa... Mr. Giles! This place is so... wow. I mean, check out all the magick junk.
Giles: Our new slogan...
Dawn: So when's it open? You know, for customers?
Giles: Since nine this morning, actually.
Buffy: I put this before the group. What the hell is it?
Giles: It appears to be paranormal in origin.
Willow: How can you tell?
Giles: Well, it's so shiny.
Riley: May be more where that came from. I say we go back out again tonight.
Buffy: Um... sure.
Dawn: You can't patrol. Buffy said.
Buffy: No, I didn't.
Dawn: Yeah, remember? You said it'd be easier if you didn't have to look out for anybody.
Buffy: Well, I wasn't talking about Riley.
Riley: Don't worry about it.
Dawn: Oh, she just said you look even cuter when you're all weak and kitteny and she'd better go solo or you'd get hurt. So welcome to the club. She'll never let me go either... What? What?
Riley: Giles, you got that danger room set up out back? I'm feeling the need for a little physical rehab about now.
Willow: Buffy, wait. Go easy on her.
Willow: I can't help it. I just have all this involuntary empathy for Dawn. 'Cause she's, you know, a big spaz.
Buffy: She's so annoying. Especially now that Mom's sick. She's all over her while I have to be the grown-up and the two of them are like the Giggle Twins and why can't I ever be L'il Punkin' Belly?
Willow: While I don't feel qualified to address the last part, I can tell you that Dawn's not just the youngest, she's the baby and maybe your mom needs that right now.
Buffy: Dawn doesn't care what my mom... You just have no idea how much I wish I were an only child these days.
Ben: Hey! It's Buffy, isn't it? Ben... but you can call me man-nurse. Everybody else here does.
Night Watchman: Doesn't even help. Doesn't make a damn bit of difference!
Buffy: I've met this guy. He's a security guard. He's not crazy.
Ben: If you say so...
Night Watchman: They're coming at you. Don't think you're above it, missy. They come through the family! They get to your family!
Buffy: My family? What do you mean?
Giles: Did you see that? Customers! Real, live customers! They came in and I gave them things and they gave me money and then they left! It's brilliant!
Willow: Congratulations. You're an official capitalist running dog.
Anya: Your conjuring powder is grotesquely over-priced.
Anya: I'm sorry. I'm nearly out of money. I've never had to afford things before and it's making me bitter.
Giles: The change is palpable. That stuff doesn't come cheap.
Anya: Well, you're getting ripped off. I could hook you up with the troll that sheds it.
Glory: You know, when you think about it, I'm the victim here. First off, I don't even want to be here. And I'm not talking about this room or this city or this state or this planet. I'm talking about the whole mortal coil now, you know? It's disgusting! The food... the clothes... the people. I could crap a better existence than this. But... okay- and feel free to tell me if this next part gets a little too personal, because I'm told I have boundary issues- but I'm hurt! Yes, by your incredibly selfish behavior. Newsflash, hairdo: it's not always about you. All I want is the Key! Why? Why can't you tell me where the Key is? Oh! Forgive me... monk-y. Sometimes I just... I get so anxious- like there's something deep inside of me and it's swelling up and it's making me crazy!- that I forget there's all that duct tape on your face!
Glory: It's typical! The whole mortal meatsack comes complete with stink and bile sweat and protein. Yes, I said humans! Not now, Mommy's talking! Wriggling, piling, prowling, crawling, clowning, cavorting, doing it over and over and over and over until someone's gonna sit down on their tuffet and make this birthing stop!
Giles: Xander! There's too many of them... people! And they all seem to want things.
Xander: I hear ya. Stay British. You'll be okay.
Xander: Anya, the Shopkeeper's Union of America called. They wanted me to tell you that 'please go' just got replaced with 'have a nice day'.
Anya: But I have their money. Who cares what kind of day they have?
Xander: No one. It's just a long cultural tradition of raging insincerity. Embrace it.
Anya: You know, Buffy, there used to be this French sorcerer back in the 16th I-don't-know-what named-
Anya: So cute in his little knickers. But he had this one spell demons just hated called tirer la couture.
Buffy: 'Rotate many foodstuffs'?
Willow: 'Pull the curtain back'.
Anya: A spell to see spells... well, a trance to see spells, actually, but you get the idea. Try that.
Buffy: Thanks for coming over. I really appreciate the help.
Riley: Sure thing. So what do I do?
Buffy: Lots. Tons. Lots and lots of tons. This is all kinda-
Riley: New terrain?
Buffy: All prayin', no slayin'. Okay, so the incense needs to be ignited... and there's a job. And this stuff needs to get poured around me in a circle, counter-clockwise-
Riley: So you need me to light incense and pour sand?
Buffy: Magick incense... and spooky sand... and the ritual itself is-
Riley: Something you do alone. You sure this isn't just your way of trying to make me feel less- what are the words?- cute and weak and kittenish?
Riley: Right. Much manlier. Look... I really am okay.
Buffy: I know.
Riley: So I'm not quite Super Guy anymore. It was borrowed power anyway. Had to give it back some time.
Buffy: I know you can handle yourself. I just didn't want to see you get hurt.
Riley: Maybe instead of you trying to take care of me, we agree to take care of each other. Deal?
Dawn: What are you doing?
Buffy: My boyfriend. Go away.
Buffy: You're not my sister.
Dawn: Yeah! Like I even want to be related to your nasty self-
Dawn: Ow! What are you doing?
Buffy: What are you?
Dawn: Get off me!
Buffy: You want to hurt me?
Dawn: Let go of me, you freak!
Buffy: Then you deal with me.
Dawn: I'm telling mom!
Buffy: You stay away from my mother!
Giles: We've uncovered more than expected about this orb. It's called the Dagon Sphere and it has a history going back many centuries.
Buffy: What's it do?
Giles: It's a protective device, used to ward off ancient primordial evil.
Buffy: Any word on what this evil looks like?
Giles: Unfortunately, no. This is where- Excuse me. This is where accounts get vague. All we've managed to uncover so far is the Dagon Sphere was created to repel That Which Cannot Be Named.
Buffy: I'm going to go back to the factory where I found it. Whoever planted this doohickey's got answers.
Giles: Buffy, you've heard me say this before but do be careful. Anything that goes unnamed is usually an object of deep worship or great fear- maybe both. Have you completed the trance? Seen what's harming your mother?
Buffy: That's the thing... I just saw-
Buffy: Nothing. It didn't work.
Spike: Hi, Buffy.
Buffy: Don't take this the wrong way but...
Buffy: What are you doing here? Five words or less.
Spike: Out... for... a... walk... bitch.
Buffy: Out for a walk at night by my house. No one has time for this, William.
Spike: On your merry way, then. You know, contrary to one's self-involved world-view, your house happens to be directly between parts... and other parts of this town. And I would pass by in the day but I feel I'm outgrowing my whole 'burst into flame' phase.
Buffy: Fine. Keep going, I cut you a break.
Spike: Oh, yeah. Okay, let me guess... you won't kill me? Wooo... the whole crowd-pleasing threats-and-swagger routine. How stunningly original. You know, I'm just passing through. Satisfied? You know, I really hope so because God knows you need some satisfaction in life besides shagging Captain Cardboard and I never really liked you anyway and... and you have stupid hair.
Giles: Would someone please rip that bloody bell off its hinges?
Xander: Would that involve moving?
Willow: My feet are numb.
Xander: I'll see your numbness and I'll raise you a lower back pain.
Giles: I think I liked it better when demons would just crash in here and tear the place apart. Just seemed so much simpler.
Anya: You're out of crystal balls. Those babies are really popular with the amateurs. Better re-stock and raise the price 10%. Make it 15.
Anya: Your cash register looks like squirrels nest in it.
Anya: And the Hand of Glory packs some serious raw power. Better institute a seven-day background check for-
Giles: Anya! Would you like a job?
Giles: Good. Then we can talk shop tomorrow.
Anya: Okay... boss.
Monk: My journey's done, I think.
Buffy: Don't get metaphory on me. We're going.
Monk: You have to... the Key. You must protect the Key.
Buffy: Fine. We can protect the Key together, okay, just far, far from here.
Monk: Many more die if you don't keep it safe.
Buffy: How? What is it?
Monk: The Key is energy. It's a portal. It opens the door...
Buffy: The Dagon Sphere?
Monk: No. For centuries it had no form at all. My brethren, its only keepers. Then the abomination found us. We had to hide the Key, gave it form, molded it flesh... made it human and sent it to you.
Monk: She's the Key.
Buffy: You put that in my house?
Monk: We knew the Slayer would protect.
Buffy: My memories... my mom's?
Monk: We built them.
Buffy: Then un-build them! This is my life you're-
Monk: You cannot abandon.
Buffy: I didn't ask for this! I don't even know... what is she?
Monk: Human... now human. And helpless. Please... she's an innocent in this. She needs you.
Buffy: She's not my sister?
Monk: She doesn't know that.
Buffy: I'm sorry.
Dawn: You hurt my arm.
Buffy: I know.
Buffy: Really sorry.
Dawn: I tell you I have this theory? It goes where you're the one who's not my sister. 'Cause mom adopted you from a shoebox full of baby howler monkeys and never told you 'cause it could hurt your delicate baby feelings.
Buffy: That's your theory?
Dawn: Explains your fashion sense. And your smell.
Buffy: I'm sorry, okay?
Dawn: Broken record much?
Buffy: You can't even take an apology. You always do that. Ever since- I just had a bad day.
Dawn: Well, join the club.
Buffy: Can I be president?
Dawn: I'm president. You could be the janitor.
Dawn: What's wrong with mom?
Buffy: I don't know.