You taste like strawberries.

Wrecked

Buffy: When ... When did the building fall down?
Spike: I don't know. Must have been sometime between the first time and the, uh...
Buffy: Oh. Oh my God.

Buffy: What did you think was gonna happen? What, we're gonna read the newspaper together, play footsie under the rubble?
Spike: Not exactly what I had in mind.

Spike: I knew. I knew the only thing better than killing a slayer would be f--
Buffy: What?!
(Me too: What?? This show has gone too far.)

Buffy: Is that what this is about? Doing a slayer?
Spike: Well, I wouldn't throw stones, pet. You seem to be quite the groupie yourself.
Buffy: Shut up.
Spike: I'm just sayin,' vampires get you hot.
Buffy: *A* vampire got me hot. One. But he's gone. You're just... You're just convenient.

Spike: I may be dirt ... but you're the one who likes to roll in it, Slayer.

Amy: I'm talking too much. Sorry. It's just been, you know, me and a bag of pellets for the last few years.

Anya: Don't be ridiculous. Martha Stewart isn't a demon. She's a witch.
Xander: Please, she-- Really?
Anya: Of course. Nobody could do that much decoupage without calling on the powers of darkness.

Anya: I can't decide whether to put my bridesmaids in cocktail dresses or the traditional burlap with blood larva.
Xander: The traditional what?
Anya: Well, I was a demon for a thousand years, you don't expect me to turn my back on all the ways of my people.

Willow: Is it dangerous?
Amy: Would that stop you?

Rack: You taste like strawberries.

Dawn, cooking: Spatulas are for wimps. I'm making peanut-butter-and-banana quesadillas.

Willow: So, uh, the burger was good? You liked it?
Dawn: Are you kidding? It was like a meat party in my mouth. Okay, now I'm just a kid, and even I know that came out wrong.

Buffy: Will you quit that? The only thing that's different is that I'm disgusted with myself. That's the power of your charms. Last night was the most perverse, degrading experience of my life.
Spike: Yeah. Me too.
Buffy: That might be how you get off, but it's not my style.
Spike: No, it's your calling.

Willow: But I mean... if you could be, you know, plain old Willow or super Willow, who would you be? ... I guess you don't actually have an option on the whole super thing.

Willow: The magic wasn't all great. I won't miss the nosebleeds and the headaches and stuff.
Buffy: There you go.
Willow: Or keeping stinky yak cheese in my bra. Don't ask.
Buffy: Now I don't have to.
Willow: 'Cause it's over.
Buffy: Exactly. It's over.