B: Spike, what are you doing here?
S: Same reason as you and your cub scout here, I wager. Wanted a spot of violence before bedtime.

S: And I should do what with my spare time? Sit at home knitting cunning sweater sets?

S: Oh! I saw that. Looks like neither boy is entirely welcome. You should take him home, Slayer. Make him stay there. I've got knitting needles he can borrow.
B: Spike, I just saw you taste your own nose blood. You know what? I'm too grossed out to hear anything you have to say!

B: You threw that vampire like he was a teeny-weeny little vampire.
R: Hey, you want to go again? Come on, I bet this place is just teeming with aerodynamic vampires.

S: I will know your blood, Slayer. I will make your neck my chalice, and drink deep.

S: Ow!

W: Look at us - we're arguing! We're having a debate about a college lecture. I have dreamt of this day since... forever.

W: Should I be watching my occipital lobe?
B: Your what?
W: Occipital, the lobe in the back of your brain? You know, like, should I be watching my back? But, you know, the back of your brain.
B: Apparently not.

B: Don't worry, Will, you still wear the smarty-pants in the family.

B: I'm starting to think this working hard is hard work.

B: I thought it was gonna be like in the movies -- you know, inspirational music, a montage: me sharpening my pencil, me reading, writing, falling asleep on a big pile of books with my glasses all crooked, 'cause in my montage, I have glasses. But real life is slow, and it's starting to hurt my occipital lobe.
W: Aw, poor Buffy's brain.

X: Yeah, blueprints, not a bad idea. That and getting straight, "measure twice, cut once." You know, for the longest time, I had it backwards. Messy.

A: Who put the monkey head near the Styx water? Do we want to pick exploded monkey out of our hair?

W: Oh, I feel like a witch in a magic shop!

W: Ooh, are these real newt eyes?
G: No, too rich for my blood, I'm afraid. No, these are salamander eyes. It's the cataracts which gives them their newt-like appearance. They're really equally effective, though. It's just a matter of overcoming snobbery.
X: I'm telling you, Giles. You've got to set up a blind taste-test and prove once and for all that generic amphibian eyeballs are just as good.

G: Shall we, then?
B: We shall then.

T: Hmmm.
W: What do you see?
T: Willow hands.

X: I'm the dummy man! I mean, I made the dummy.

B: You're like my fairy godmother, and Santa Claus, and Q all rolled up into one. Q from Bond, not Star Trek.

S: Oh, Pacey! You blind idiot. Can't you see she doesn't love you?

H: She won't give up until she's killed me to death.

S: Buffy's looking for you?
H: Of course! That's why I'm on the lam. Didn't you hear? I'm totally her arch-nemesis.

H: Come on, Spike. Pretty please? I'll do anything.
S: Anything, will you?
H: Yeah, I said I'll do anything. Oh, you mean, will I have sex with you? Well, yeah.

S: Taking up smoking, are you?
H: I am a villain, Spike, hello!
S: I guess you are at that.

S: I guess you're gonna have to kill her.
H: I tried! It was all hard and stuff. You do it.
S: I'd love to, but I can't. Remember? I've got this cute little government chip in my head.
H: Oh, right. Guess it'll have to be me after all. Can you help with the thinking?

B: Mmm. that was relaxing.
R: You, uh, want to relax some more?

B: Hey, I have the endurance of ten men.
R: Let's make it women, okay? Just for the imagery.

B: You know, it takes a lot to wear me out.
R: Oh, I love a challenge.

J: You want the cereal prize, but you don't want the cereal. You are growing up.

W: What about a crossword? Some people say feed a cold, I say puzzle it.

J: I feel silly lying here like a lump.
W: You can make a game out of it. A very quiet game about being a lump.

B: Call them how? First of all, they don't exist any more, and secondly they never claimed to exist in the first place.

R: Very convincing. Makes me completely want to put myself under government control. Please, take me where they can make me unconscious and naked.

Gr: And, Buffy...
B: If you tell me to hurry, I'll kick your ass.

X: Like, I had this friend once who really liked this girl, and he got all worried that maybe she didn't like him back, and maybe that made him act like a total jerk. Maybe Riley reminds me of that friend.
W: What are you talking about?
X: Then again, maybe not. Maybe he just wants attention.

A: I care about you, Xander.
X: Thanks.
A: Don't be insecure.
X: Thanks. I won't.

B: You know what else he might find homey, in a dank, unpleasant, evil sort of way? The Initiative caves.

G: We do have an associate who knows those caves like the back of his melanin-deprived hand.

B: The guy's really starting to bug me in that special "I want to shove something wooden through his heart" kind of way.

S: Is it bigger than a breadbox?
H: No. Four left.
S: So it's smaller than a breadbox?
H: No. Only three.
S: Harmony, is it a sodding breadbox?
H: Yes! Oh my god. Someone's Blondie Bear is a 20-questions genius!

S: Oh dear, is the enormous hall monitor sick? Tell me, is he gonna die?

H: So, what'd she say about me?

S: Little performance anxiety, eh, doc? Butterflies in the old belly? Harm, do us a favor. Shoot the nasty butterflies for the good doctor.

H: Oops. String was slippy.

W: Better to light a candle than curse the damn darkness.

T: How'd you do that with the light?
W: Oh, you know, you taught me.
T: I taught you a teeny tinkerbell light.
W: Okay, so I tinkered with the tinkerbell.

R: I go back, let the government get whimsical with my innards again, they could do anything that... Best case scenario, they turn me into Joe Normal. Just... just another guy.

R: Come on, your last boyfriend wasn't exactly a civilian.

B: Don't Psych 101 me.

R: Loving you is the scariest thing I've ever done, Buffy.
B: I don't know why.

H: I read in a magazine that some women think a man's real sex organ is his brain. Yecch. No contest. I mean, look at it. It's so... pink and wriggly-looking. Can I touch it?
Doc & S : No!

H: Wow, Spikey, how does it feel?
S: Like someone's cutting into my brain with a knife, you silly bint.

H: Do you know what it means that he can't hurt any living thing? It means that he can't even pick flowers.
S: What?! Yes, I can.

H: Is it supposed to do that?

S: Harmony, if your incessant prattling bollixes up this operation, I'm gonna personally rip out your pink and wriggly tongue.

R: How many fingers I got?
Gr: 17.

R: Hey, about before...
Gr: We're good. Apologize later, if you're not dead.

B: You are not going to die!
R: Bet you say that to all the boys.

S: Bathe in the Slayer's blood. I've gonna dive in it. Swim in it. I'm gonna do the bloody backstroke.

H: I see it, Spikey, I see the chip! It's nestled in there like a pretty little Easter egg, with your brain all around it like that green plastic grassy stuff. Only this is more of a beige...

S: Listen to me. My stomach's growling, I'm so starved. I'm afraid I'm going to have to have me a little snack. Oh, don't worry. I won't fill up on the bread. I'll still have plenty of room for the main course.

S: Buffy, Buffy, Buffy! Everywhere I turn, she's there. That nasty little face, that bouncing, shampoo- commercial hair. That whole holier-than-thou attitude.
H: Well, aren't we kind of unholy by definition...

B: How's it going in there?
R: Good. Back to normal.
B: Yep. And see? I'm still touchable.
R: Give me a week or so to heal, and I'll take full advantage of that fact.

Gr: You used to have a mission. And now you're what, the mission's boyfriend? The mission's true love?

S: Oh god, no. Please no.

Credit: The Sunnydale Slayers