This Year's Girl

  • Xander: So, here it is. The latest in state-of the art combat technology. I gotta say, it doesn't look that complicated.
    Buffy: So you can repair it?
    Xander: Sure. Just as soon as I get my master's degree in advanced starship technology.
    Willow: Well, why don't we experiment? Press some buttons, see what happens.
    Giles: Well, I'd like to veto that.
    Xander: Second. It's called a blaster, Will. A word that tends to discourage experimentation. Now, if it were called the Orgasmator, I'd be the first to try your basic button-press approach.

  • Willow: Tell you what...you two crazy kids take down an unstoppable killer cyber-demon hybrid thingy, and we'll call it all even.

  • Giles: The puzzle, it seems to me, is why Adam has stayed dormant as long as he has.
    Willow: When he's not making performance art out of other demons, that is.

  • Willow: Oh, I have an idea. Beat the crap out of her.
    Xander: Good plan.

  • Willow: Yeah, too bad. That was the funnest coma ever.

  • Giles: Perhaps there's some form of rehabilitation we just haven't thought about.
    Willow: And if not, ass-kicking makes a solid Plan B.

  • Willow: What did you tell him?
    Buffy: The truth...that she's my wacky identical cousin from England, and whenever she visits, hijinks ensue.
    Willow: It's good you guys have such an honest relationship.

  • Willow: How'd you handle the Angel-y parts?
    Buffy: I did some editing.

  • Willow: Any luck?
    Buffy: I couldn't find her. Don't know exactly where to place that on the luck continuum.

  • Faith: Payback's a bitch.
    Willow: Look who's talking.

  • Willow: Thanks for coming with. Hunting for a psychopathic super-bitch is definitely in the above-and-beyond category.
    Tara: It's okay, really. So, what do we do if we find her?
    Willow: Run. Flee. Maybe skedaddle.

  • Willow: What?
    Tara: You said recon. You're, like, cool monster-fighter.
    Willow: Well, technically, Faith isn't a monster. And as far as fighting, I'd be lucky to bruise her fist with my face.

  • Willow: She's like this cleavagey slutbomb walking around going, "Ooh, check me out. I'm wicked cool. I'm five-by-five."
    Tara: Five-by-five? Five what by five what?
    Willow: See, that's the thing. No one knows.

  • Tara: So, we recon till nightfall?
    Willow: Then the ritual hiding begins.

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