Bargaining, part 1:

It's just...he keeps saying he's going, and then he doesn't. And I keep almost being in charge, but then I'm not. And maybe he shouldn't
even be going at all, but we can't talk about that. And it all just leaves me with this stress and bossiness stored up, and it just leaks out.

I was being patient, but it took too long.

Discovery Channel has monkeys. And our tape machines's all wonky...

You know, she's not the descedant of a long line of mystical warriors. She's the descedant of a toaster oven.

Well, it must be something pretty intense. The black market's all baby teeth and spooky fluids.

You want to look at the money? I find it always calms me.

We brought you some lovely parting gifts. It's American. Get it? Apple pie? To remind you of all the good food you won't be eating.

I'll take really good care of your money.

Less talk, more running away.


Bargaining, Part 2:

Plus, we have a Slayer here. Who might actually be looking to eat some brains, so I think a little quiet moseying, no hard feelings, and I'm sure your demon horde won't think any the less of you.

Does this mean we win?


Afterlife:

Yeah, I mean, jet lag from hell has got to be, you know, jet lag from hell.

Oh, yes, six or seven days, that's all you really need to get over eternal hell experiences.

It's a standard way to travel through dimensions. Some demon-a-thing sees someone moving between worlds, and grabs on for the ride.

I found one of those 24-hour places for coffee. Remember that bookstore? Well, they became one of those books and coffee places, and now they're just coffee. It's like evolution, only without the "getting better" part.

Technically, that's not a price -- that's a gift with purchase.

Why are you smiling? That's inappropriate.

She's right. You're like a snail. A snail who's driving a car very slowly.


Flooded:

I know how! Um, if... if you want to pay... uh... every bill here, and every bill coming, and have enough to start a nice college fund for Dawn? Start charging!
For slaying vampires! You're providing a valuable service to the whole community! I say: Cash in!

Hey! You tricked me! Just now, with your fancy talk and lips!

No, no. Captain Logic is not steering this tugboat. I smell Captain Fear at the wheel. God, I hate this! This tone in my voice? I dislike it more than you do, and I'm closer to it.

Giles! We're so glad to see you! We missed you! You can't have the store back.


Life Serial:

Oh, and be sure to remove the items from the shelf. I can illustrate with an amusing story about a crystal: See there was this certain customer who wanted to purchase a sapphire... uh... a sapphire... well, ding-dong, and....

Don't worry. Don't be nervous. Just do what I do: Picture yourself naked!


All The Way:

Post-holiday clearance. The cornerstone of retail.

Oh, that's okay. This is just the first premarital celebration. There'll be lots more. With gifts.

So, I was thinking maybe a June wedding, but then I remembered that they always had the highest percentage of calls for vengeance. So now I'm leaning towards as soon and damn possible. I mean, mortal life being so short, we gotta cram in as much marital bliss as we can before we wither and die.

Giles: Rupert is an exceptionally strong name.
Anya: (laughing) Yeah, if we want our progeny to eat paste and have their lunch money stolen.

I'm the luckiest ex-demon in the world.


Once More, With Feeling:

It has to be stopped. It's like we're being watched. Like there was a wall missing in our apartment. Like there were only three walls and not a fourth wall... and my toes aren't hairy!

Clearly our number is a retro-pastiche that's never going to be a break-away pop hit.

I don't know. One more verse of our little ditty, and I would have been looking for a gas can.

Dawn may have had the wrong idea in summoning this creature, but I've seen some of these Underworld child-bride deals, and they never end well. Maybe once.

Would you say it was a break-away pop hit or more of a book number?


Tabula Rasa:

Do you think she walked around on clouds, wearing, like, Birkenstocks, and played a harp? 'Cause those are just not flattering. You know, the clunky sandals, not a harp. I mean, who doesn't look good with a harp?

What? I'm just saying what everyone's thinking, right baby?

For real this time? 'Cause, honest-to-Pete, a young shopkeeper's heart can only take so much.

I don't see any booze. I don't feel any head bumps. I don't see Allen Funt.

I have to protect the cash register, and do some spells.

Anya: Not exactly. I just, um, my intuition tells me this is the book, and I figure, being a magic shop owner, and a natural at the supernatural, I should trust my intuition. True. But my intuition says that you're not so much the magic guy and more of a paperwork type. Okay, here we go. (opens book at random) "Bare bare himble gemination." (rabbit pops into existence) (screams)

Anya: No. This book made the little fluffers, this book's gonna send them back. I've got it this time. Okay, "Himble abri. Abri voyon." (another bunny pops into existence)
Giles: Yes, dear.

Sensible? You think it's sensible for me to go down into that pit of cotton-top hell, and let them hippety-hop all over my vulnerable flesh?

Anya: What capital? I never know what you're talking about. Loo, shag, brolly, what the hell is all that?

Don't blame me, you snobby, snotty, thinks-he's-so-great kind of jerk... and I feel compelled to take some vengeance on you!

No, Rupy, I'm sorry. You were right. That was the wrong book.


Smashed:

The text I wanted, Giles took it with him. He has this thing that owning a book makes it, like, his property.

Oh, for crying out loud! This is bizarre. You're all "la la la!" with the magic and the not talking, like everything's normal, when we all know that Tara up and left you, and now everyone's scared to say anything to you. Except me.

Let's face it, we're not gonna find this thing, because it doesn't exist. There's no such thing as a frost monster who eats diamonds.


Wrecked:

Don't be ridiculous. Martha Stewart isn't a demon. She's a witch.

I can't decide whether to put my bridesmaids in cocktail dresses or the traditional burlap with blood larvae.

At least I'm not asking you to perform the groom's rite of self-flagellation.

And' *I'm* bizarre? At least I didn't dump you to hang out with an ex-rat.


Gone:

Xander: What happened to Buffy? She's gone.
Anya: She's right here. Table four. I put her with your family.
Xander: Great. Except we don't hate Buffy. Put her back at table one.
Anya: Well, where do I put D'Hoffryn?
Xander: We're not inviting D'Hoffryn.
Anya: I have to. He's my ex-boss. You're inviting your work buddies.
It would help if we had a little bit more to go on. Or... anything to go on.

Anya: Yeah, we'll put D'Hoffryn at your parent's table, and move your Uncle Rory to table five near the bar.
Xander: An, honey, we're looking for invisibility spells here.
Anya: Well, obviously, I haven't found anything yet.
An unpleasant tactile experience. Like putting my hand in pudding.


Doublemeat Palace:

Please, continue the story of failure. When I was a vengeance demon, I caused pain and mayhem, certainly. But I put in a full day's work doing it, and I got compensated appropriately.

But supervillains want reward without labor, to make things come easy. It's wrong. Without labor there can be no payment, and vice versa. The country cannot progress. The workers are the tools that shape America.

We're here to support your subsistance-level employment. Bravo!

Anya: After Willow gave us the "whoosh!" engagement party, I got slack on the planning 'cause I figured she'd help. But, well, now that's all been blown to hell.

Willow: Hey, standing right here. Standing right exactly here.
Anya: Sorry. Didn't mean to tempt you. (whispers to Dawn) Everyone's so delicate.

Halfrek, I didn't summon you to kill Xander, I called to invite you to our wedding.

Well, no. Xander, he... he's very kind, and brave, and he has the sweetest smile, and the nicest body, and he loves me. Sometimes it isn't easy, but he does.

Well, you know, I'll do something, or say something, and then he has to say stuff like, "It's incorrect for you to appreciate money so much" or, "Observe. Here's how a real human would behave."

Well, is it demon meat? I mean, maybe someone's, you know, killing demons and using them as a cheap source of meat. I mean, we've all heard of that. And, by the way, I'm opposed to using demon meat no matter how much money it saves.


Older and Far Away:

Stuck in doing-the-books-ville.

Yes. Well, Xander did the building. I offered helpful suggestions while observing from a safe distance.

Yes, and a good way to find out is to sit around and try nothing. That was sarcasm, by the way.

Dawnie, there are two words I want you to get used to - punitive damages.


As You Were:

Will you stop wolfing down those chips? One more bag and you'll pop right out of your cummerbund. You're not even hungry, you're just nervous.

I think we died in this car on the way to the airport, and now we're stuck in hell.

We'll never get to the airport in time to pick up your stupid uncle.

Well, the gnarols are teleporting in in 20 minutes. If I'm not there to greet them, somebody's getting incinerated.

It's going to be our perfect, perfect day if I have to kill every one of our guests and half this town to do it.


Hell's Bells:

I, Anya, promise to love you, to cherish you, to honor you, but not to obey you, of course, because that's anachronistic and misogynistic, and who do you think you are, like a sea captain or something?

Blah blah blah, misogynistic, blah blah... I do, however, entrust you with my heart. Take care of my heart, won't you, please? Take care of it, because it's all that I have, and if you let me, I'll take care of your heart, too. I'll protect it and tend to it, like a little stray. Wait, no. Like a little mangy stray that needs a home.

Anya: Oh, I want to see Xander now!
Willow: You can't. It's bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress, remember?
Anya: Right. I can't keep all these ridiculous traditions straight. Well, what if I'm not wearing my dress when I see him? Okay, no sex. Cuddling? I, Anya, promise to cherish you. Eww, no. Not cherish. I promise to have sex with you whenever *I* want, and pledge to be your friend, your wife, your confidant, and your sex poodle.


Entropy:

I wish you felt the pain of a thousand searing pokers boiling your heart in its own juices.

I wish you had tentacles where your beady eyes should be!

You're lesbians, so the hating of men will come in handy -- let's talk about Xander.

Squish, squish, squish. Guys have been running roughshod over you for years. Torturing that perky little ticker. Aren't you sick of it? Don't you wish guys like that...

Oh my god -- Spike hates Xander. Maybe I can get him to wish... Damn it. If only he were a woman. Oh, got it. If I can somehow get someone to wish that Spike were a woman, then I could go to him - well, he'd be a her by then. But then I could go to her--

Giles left a couple of supplies here that I think just might help. Eases the hurt, makes the sun shine a little brighter, even makes boring people seem more interesting. Ah, here! (brings out bottle of Jack Daniels)

To tell you the truth, all I wanted was to use him and lose him. I hadn't had a good tumble in a thousand years.

And now I'm off my guard. Happy. Singing in the shower and doing my sexy dance.

You know I'm only doing this because I'm lonely and drunk and you smell really good.


Seeing Red:

Sometimes intimate sweaty relations with the wrong person just seems like a good idea at the time.

Bet you wish he'd bloat up a couple of thousand pounds and pop like a big old meat zeppelin, don't you?

Gee, then he must have meant it, 'cause, hey, guys never say anything they don't really mean, do they?

And then you get all excited with the tingly anticipation, but wait! Not so fast. There's the apocalypse, and the back from the grave, and the blah blah blah blah blah! And by the time you're finally standing there in that beautifully expensive white dress you dreamed about ever since you became human, he gets all heebie-jeebie and decides, "You know, I'd rather just go steady."

Who's gonna notice with all the other lies flying around like little monkeys?


Two To Go:

Warren shot Buffy. Warren shot Tara. Buffy's alive. Tara's dead. Willow found out, and being the most powerful Wicca in the Western Hemisphere, decided to get the payback, with interest.

She killed him. Ripped him apart, and bloodied up the forest doing it.

One of the many things in the world you are not prepared to deal with.

So please stop looking at me like it's your first trip to the circus and do your job.

Good news is, the test is intact. Bad news is, uh, can't read a word of it.

So far, we've got "the". Well, either "the" or "towards". I'm not really sure. I can't do this. I'm in retail!

The annoying virgin has a point.

Anya: She tried to use you for a hood ornament, Xander. She doesn't care if you live or die.
Xander: Guess you two finally have something in common.
Anya: I care if you live or die, Xander. I'm just not sure which one I want.

I really can't hurt you, so I'm just gonna have to settle for hating you.


Grave:

Holy frijole.

Giles! Don't die. Not yet. There are things I want to tell you. Thanks a lot for coming. It was good of you to teleport all this way.
Though in retrospect, it would have been better if you hadn't come and given Willow all that magic that made her, like, ten times
more powerful. That would have been a plus.


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