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Xander
(about the Watchers Council): Yeah, don't they have phones?
(He attempts a British accent.) "Allo, Buffy! Here's some
stuff we know! Pip pip!"
Tara: Wh-what's so bad about them
coming here? Aren't they good guys? I mean, Watchers, that's just like
other Gileses, right?
Buffy: Yeah, they're scary and horrible!
Anya: I don't like the sound of
this. They don't sound very ex-demon compatible.
Tara: Are you sure they're English? I thought English people were,
um, gentler than uh... normal people.
Buffy (about Dawn):
She was listening!
Willow: Does it matter? I mean, is she really gonna set the junior
high school buzzing with, "Oooh! There's a delegation a-comin'!"
Glory: Sunnydale's got too many
demons and not enough retail outlets.
Glory (about Buffy):
Baby, if that girl's the only thing between me and my key, I don't need
much time.
Lydia: Also this statue. Its
removal from Burma is a criminal offense, and when triggered, it has the
power to melt human eyeballs.
Giles: In that case, I severely underpriced it.
Anya: Hey! Giles! What are they
doing? Customers! Please... bring your money back!
Quentin: Miss, excuse me, do uh,
you work here?
Anya: Yes, I do. Ever since I moved here from South Eastern
Indiana, where I was raised by both a mother and a father.
Giles (to the Council members):
You all stand around and look somber. (Indeed they do.) Good job.
Quentin: You used to respect us, Giles. You used to be one of us.
Giles: You used to pay me.
Professor: I'm sorry you find
these facts so boring, Miss. Summers. Maybe you'd prefer I step aside, so
that you can teach your own course? Speculation 101, perhaps? Intro to
Flights of Fancy?
Buffy (to a vampire she's
fighting): Miss Summers! Some of us are here to learn,
Professor! Maybe you would like to teach your own class!
Vampire: Who are you talking to?
Buffy (after Spike slays her
vampire): Spike! Why did you do that?
Spike: Not for money, if that's what you're thinkin'. Your
heartfelt gratitude is plenty. Expect I'll be getting that any moment.
Buffy: Gratitude? For getting in my way?
Spike: Getting in your way? I saved you!
Buffy: I was regrouping.
Spike: You were about to be regrouped into separate piles. You
needed help.
Buffy: I didn't need you. I never need you, Spike.
Spike: Oh, I get it. You just don't like who did the rescuing,
that's all. Wishin' I was your boyfriend what's-his-height — oh wait,
he's run off.
Buffy: You know what? I don't need a boyfriend. To rescue me or for
any other reason.
Spike: Don't need or can't keep? You keep making notches on the
headboard, but eventually they get out of bed and run off, don't they?
Buffy: You're disgusting!
Spike: Rough talk. Maybe that's your problem — maybe you push 'em
away? Or is it the other — maybe you cling too much? Or maybe... your
beauty's fading. The stress of slaying aging you prematurely. Things not
as high (gesturing at chest height), not as firm.
Buffy: You know what, Spike? The more I get to know you, the more I
wish I didn't.
Spike: Or maybe you just don't hold their interest.
Ben (to Jinx): Don't
touch me — you're crusty!
Ben: I don't know any Slayer. Get
away from me, you shouldn't be here.
Jinx: Oh I believe you do, sir. She's short, symmetrical, hair on
top. Buffy something.
Giles: How much under your thumb
do you think we are?
Quentin: How much do you want our help?
Giles (very angrily): She's not your bloody
instrument and you have no right to do any of this!
Glory: He could seduce her and
bang the Key out of her!
Jinx: He is quite attractive.
Glory: Well, of course he's attractive! But he drives me insane.
Know what I mean?
Jinx: He drives you insane?
Glory: Yeah! That's it exactly!
Buffy: They're gonna expect me
to... to be like a Slayer and, and know stuff, but I'm just me and I don't
know anything and they're gonna to go away and they're not gonna tell me
how to fight Glory and I'm not gonna be able to protect Dawn!
Giles: Buffy, calm down. The scandal here is not anything you've
done wrong, it's the way they're behaving. Holding what they know
hostage, with a gun pointed at my bleeding green card no less. It's
humiliating.
Buffy: Also smart. They picked the perfect thing. I can't lose you.
Giles: Thank you.
Anya: Anya Christina Emmanuella
Jenkins. Twenty years old. Born on the fourth of July — and don't think
there weren't jokes about that my whole life, mister, 'cause there were.
"Who's our little patriot?" they'd say, when I was younger and
therefore smaller and shorter than I am now.
Phillip: So... you spell it A - N - Y - A, then?
Nigel: Well, I need to know a
little bit more about the Slayer. And about both of you. Your relationship,
whatever you can tell me.
Tara: O-ou-our relationship?
Willow: We're friends.
Tara: Good friends.
Willow: Girlfriends, actually.
Tara: Yes, we're girlfriends.
Willow: We're in love. We're... lovers. Lesbian, gay-type lovers. (She
puts her hand on Tara's leg.)
Nigel: I meant your relationship with the Slayer.
Phillip: So. You have no special
skills, or powers, or knowledge that you bring to the mix? Neither of you?
Anya: Just enthusiasm for killing the demons. Go deadness for the
demons!
Nigel: What level are you at?
Tara: Level?
Nigel: Magical proficiency level?
Willow: Oh! Uh.. high-uh- high level... very high. One of those...
top levels.
Tara: Five! (She gives Willow an "I don't know" shrug.)
Lydia: She pays you? She gives you
money?
Spike: Money, a little nip of blood out of some stray victim,
whatever.
Lydia: Blood?
Spike: Well, if they're gonna die anyway. Come to think of it
though, that's a bit scandalous, innit? Personally, I'm shocked. The
girl's slippin'.
Spike: Heard of me, have you?
Lydia (flustered and a bit embarrassed): I... wrote
my thesis on you.
Spike (flirtatious): Well, well. Isn't that neat?
Glory: Buffy! If I wanted to fight,
you could tell by the being dead already.
Glory (about Dawn):
Oooh, I like her! She's sassy!
Spike: They didn't put a chip in
your head, did they?
Buffy: No.
Spike: Be funny if they did.
Joyce: I-I love what you've, um...
neglected to do with the place.
Spike: Just don't break anything. And don't make a lotta noise. Passions
is coming on.
Joyce: Passions? Oh, do you think Timmy's really dead?
Spike: Oh, no, no. She can just sew him back together. He's a doll,
for God's sake.
Joyce: Ah, what about the wedding? I mean, there's no way they're
gonna go through with that.
Tara: Why doesn't Mr. Giles boot
them all out of here?
Xander: 'Cause if they deport him, they're not just destroying his
career — they're condemning the man to a lifetime diet of blood sausage,
bangers and mash.
Buffy: There isn't gonna be a
review.
Quentin: Sorry?
Buffy: No review. No interrogation. No questions you know I
can't answer. No hoops. No jumps. (Nigel is about to speak.) No
interruptions. See, I've had a lot of people talking at me in the last few
days. Everyone just lining up to tell me how unimportant I am. And I've
finally figured out why. Power. I have it. They don't. This bothers them.
Glory came to my home today.
Giles: Buffy are you all—
Buffy: Just to talk. She told me I'm a bug, I'm a flea, she could
squash me in a second. Only she didn't. She came into my home, and we
talked. We had what in her warped brain probably passes for a civilized
conversation. Why? Because she needs something from me. Because I have
power over her. You guys didn't come all the way from England to determine
whether I was good enough to be let back in. You came to beg me to let you
back in. To give your jobs, your lives, some semblance of meaning.
Nigel: This is beyond insolence— (Buffy hurls the sword at him,
which he must jump aside to avoid.)
Buffy: I'm fairly certain I said no interruptions.
Xander (quietly): That was excellent!
Buffy: You're Watchers. Without a Slayer... you're pretty much just
watching Masterpiece Theater. You can't stop Glory. You can't do
anything with the information you have, except maybe publish it in the Everyone
Thinks We're Insanos Home Journal. So here's how it's gonna work. You're
gonna tell me everything you know. Then you're gonna go away. You'll
contact me if and when you have any further information about Glory. The
magic shop will remain open. Mr. Giles will stay here as my official
Watcher, reinstated at full salary.
Giles (pretending to cough, muffling the word):
Retroactive.
Buffy: To be paid retroactively from the month he was fired. I will
continue my work with the help of my friends—
Lydia: I-I-I... don't want a sword thrown at me, but-but civilians
— we're talking about children!
Buffy: We're talking about two very powerful witches and a
thousand-year-old ex-demon.
Anya: Willow's a demon?!
Phillip: The boy? No power there.
Buffy: "The boy" has clocked more field time than all of
you combined. He's part of the unit.
Willow (quietly): That's Riley speak.
Xander (quietly and with pride): I've clocked field
time.
Buffy: Now. You all may be very good at your jobs. The only way we're
gonna find out is if you work with me. You can all take your time thinking
about that. But I want an answer right now from Quentin. 'Cause I think
he's understanding me.
Quentin (after a pause): Your terms are acceptable.
(The gang, watching from above, breaks into cheers and applause.)
Buffy: See? No begging.
Buffy: Just tell me what kind of
demon I'm fighting.
Quentin: Well, that's the thing, you see. Glory isn't a demon.
Buffy: What is she?
Quentin: She's a god.
Buffy (after a moment of shocked silence): Oh.
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