"Well, the whole Willow sitch is not unstressifying. I mean, she's here, but not 'part of the gang' here, and hopefully not 'under my feet here in another time dimension' here."
-Dawn

"There's Willow, there's the looming, humongo bad...and it's a school night. I should be home in bed, cuddled up to my insomnia, and worrying about how I'm gonna mess up tomorrow."
-Buffy

"Taking my sister on an educational outing to the—" -Buffy
"Dead body." -Dawn

"'From beneath you, it devours.' It's not the friendliest jingle, is it? It's no 'I like Ike' or 'Milk: it does a body good.'"
-Xander

"Figuring out how to control your magic seems a lot like hammering a nail." (Willow gives him a confused look) "So you're hammering, right? Okay, well at the end of the hammer, you have the power, but no control. It takes, like, two strokes to hit the nail in, or you could hit your thumb." -Xander
"Ouch." -Willow
"So you choke up. Control, but no power. It could take like ten strokes to knock the nail in. Power, control. It's a tradeoff." -Xander
"That's actually not a bad analogy. Except...I'm less worried about hitting my thumb, and more worried about going all black-eyed baddy and bewitching that hammer into cracking my friends' skulls open like coconuts." -Willow

"It sounds like it's difficult for you. Like maybe your sister makes it hard for you to establish your own identity. You said she's controlling, she doesn't let you make your own decisions—" -Buffy
"Yeah, and she borrows my clothes without asking."
-Dawn

"We all deal with death." -Dawn
"This girl isn't just dealing, she's giving death a long, sloppy word-kiss. She has a yen for the big dirt-nap." -Xander


Cassie's Poetry:

The sheets above me
cool my skin like dirt
on a mad woman's grave.
I rise into
the moonlight white
and watch
the mirror stare.
Pale fish looks
back at me
Pale fish that will
never swim
My skin is milk
for no man to drink
My thighs unused,
unclenched.
This body is not ready yet
But dirt waits for no woman
and coins will buy no time
I hear the chatter of the bugs.
It's they alone
will feast.


I sit alone at my window sill
Trees crackle,
sunshine blares
And children laugh like death.
Their sharp happiness is a knife to me—
One jealous snake on a window sill—
They will be here, trees and sun
and children with canes
and pruney skin,
when I am but a memory
a laugh in the trees of time.
I sit alone
and try to love them.
I sit alone, a snake
I sit alone and try to love them
I sit alone and laugh.


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