This Year's Girl
B=Buffy, G=Giles, X=Xander, W=Willow, R=Riley, S=Spike, A=AnyaF=Faith, J=Joyce, T=Tara, MW=Mayor Wilkins
X: So, here it is. The latest in state-of the art combat technology. I gotta say, it doesn't look that complicated.
B: So you can repair it?
X: Sure. Just as soon as I get my master's degree in advanced starship technology.
W: Well, why don't we experiment? Press some buttons, see what happens.
G: Well, I'd like to veto that.
X: Second. It's called a blaster, Will. A word that tends to discourage experimentation. Now, if it were called the Orgasmator, I'd be the first to try your basic button-press approach.
X: If I blow a hole in my Mom's azalea patch, the neighbors will not be pleased.
B: There's a demonoid killing machine out there, Giles. It doesn't only work the night shift.
B: Why, because ray-guns aren't in the Slayer Handbook?
B: He's the Terminator without the bashful charm.
Forrest: The shish kabob that walks like a man. Looks like you're feeling better, walking around and threatening people and all that.
Forrest: Look at you - one good conjugal visit and you're back in intensive care to stay.
W: Spread out?
B: Not too far.
X: So not a problem.
B: I've never seen anything like that.
X: And I can go a long, healthy stretch without seeing anything like that again.
B: He's studying biology - human, demon, whatever he can get his hands on and tear apart.
W: Learning what makes things work.
X: I really don't want to be around for the final exam.
X: Question: will hiding in a cabin with stockpiled chocolate goods be any part of this plan?
B: I figure I'll go in through the elevator shaft and use the cable as tow lines, then blast open the facility doors and find the infirmary.
B: Oh god, I'm sorry, did I hurt you?
X: That's great, Riley, and, you know, there's no polite way to ask you this, but, uh... did they put a chip in your brain?
W: Tell you what - you two crazy kids take down an unstoppable killer cyber-demon hybrid thingy, and we'll call it all even.
R: All I had in there was... this one little part of you.
B: Giles used to be part of this Council. And for years, all they ever did was give me orders.
R: I just suck at the whole gray-area thing.
R: What are you doing?
G: The puzzle, it seems to me, is why Adam has stayed dormant as long as he has.
B: What's he charging up for?
X: I'd say this qualifies for a worst-timing-ever award.
X: I'd hate to see the pursuit of a homicidal lunatic get in the way of pursuing a homicidal lunatic.
W: Oh, I have an idea. Beat the crap out of her.
W: What about the Council?
W: Yeah, too bad. That was the funnest coma ever.
B: We don't know what she's thinking, what she's feeling...
G: Perhaps there's some form of rehabilitation we just haven't thought about.
W: What did you tell him?
W: How'd you handle the Angel-y parts?
W: Any luck?
B: If I were her, I'd get out of Dodge, post-hasty.
B: I've been looking for you.
F: That's the thing about a coma. You wake up all rested and rejuvenated, and ready for payback.
F: Try it, Red, and you lose an arm.
F: I wake up to find this blond chick isn't even dating the guy she was so nuts about before. I mean, she's moved on to the first college beefstick she meets. And not only has she forgotten about the love of her life, she's forgotten all about the chick she nearly killed for him. So that's my dream. That and some stuff about cigars and a tunnel.
F: Payback's a bitch.
W: Thanks for coming with. Hunting for a psychopathic super-bitch is definitely in the above-and-beyond category.
W: What?
W: She's like this cleavagey slutbomb walking around going, "Ooh, check me out. I'm wicked cool. I'm five-by-five."
T: So, we recon till nightfall?
S: What do you need?
S: And here I thought the evening would be dull.
S: Dark hair, this tall, name of Faith. Criminally insane. I like this girl already.
MW: But on the other hand, heck, maybe we won. And right now, I'm on some jumbo monitor in the Richard Wilkins Museum, surrounded by a bunch of kids sitting Indian-style and looking up at my face, filled with fear and wonder. Hi, kids!
MW: Don't worry, it's not gonna bite. That's my job.
MW: Here's the good news - just because it's over for my Faith, doesn't mean she can't go out with a bang.
B: She's a very dangerous woman.
B: It's a long story.
B: And did I mention the psycho-killer part?
F:"Ruby Sunset"... "Burgundy Skyline"? "Harlot." Mm, way to go, Joyce.
F: Anyway, for real now, I'm gonna ask you something, and you gotta promise you'll be honest and not spare my feelings just 'cause I could kill you. You promise?
F: You're thinking, "You'll never get away with this!" Warm?
J: Were you planning to slit my throat any time soon?
F: I mean, you're her mother, and she just leaves you here to die.
F: Thought I'd got to the clean marine, didn't you? He's a cutie. Looks like he could use a good roll in the sack.
J: You sure you're okay?
B: No.
X:
R: Am I really worth all that?
R: No. A giant skewer through the ribcage hurt me. That was just a reminder.
B: It's just the scarf part of me, really.
R: Ever obey them?
B: Sure. The ones I was going to do anyway.
B: I am looking for brain-washy chips in your head.
R: Finding any?
W: When he's not making performance art out of other demons, that is.
X: Based on the clues, I'll go with a killing spree.
R: And that's a best-case scenario.
X: Good plan.
X: Been there, tried that. Not unlike smothering a forest fire with napalm, as I recall.
G: Well, the Initiative, they do have containment facilities.
X: One word: evil!
X: Who she's doing.
W: And if not, ass-kicking makes a solid Plan B.
B: The truth - that she's my wacky identical cousin from England, and whenever she visits, hijinks ensue.
W: It's good you guys have such an honest relationship.
B: I did some editing.
B: I couldn't find her. Don't know exactly where to place that on the luck continuum.
F: You're not me.
F: I've been standing still for eight months, B. How hard you look?
B: So much for pleasantries, huh?
F: What'd you think, I'd wake up and we'd go for tea? You tried to gut me, Blondie.
W: Look who's talking.
T: It's okay, really. So, what do we do if we find her?
W: Run. Flee. Maybe skedaddle.
T: You said recon. You're, like, cool monster-fighter.
W: Well, technically, Faith isn't a monster. And as far as fighting, I'd be lucky to bruise her fist with my face.
T: Oh.
W: What?
T: Face punching. I'm not so good with the whole...
W: Swimming?
T: Violence.
T: Five-by-five? Five what by five what?
W: See, that's the thing. No one knows.
W: Then the ritual hiding begins.
X: Her. Dark hair, yea tall, name of Faith, criminally insane.
G: Have you seen her?
S: Is this bird after you?
X: In a bad way, yeah.
S: Tell you what I'll do, then. I'll head out, find this girl, tell her exactly where all of you are, and then watch... as she kills you. Can't any one of your damned little Scooby club at least try to remember that I hate you all?
X: We're dumb.
R: Okay, I get it, Faith bad. Do I look like I'm arguing?
B: Not yet. But you always make that innocent face right before you start.
R: Figured that out, huh? Damn. Took Mom twelve years to catch that one.
R: I'm from Iowa. We drive four hours for a high-school football game. Try me.
J: I promise.
F: Okay. How do I look?
J: Psychotic.
F: Hmmm, I was shooting for sultry, but hey...
J: Actually, I was thinking my daughter is going to kill you soon.
F: That a fact?
J: More like a bet.
F: Whoa. You got a pair on you, Joyce. I like seeing that in a woman your age.
B: Hi, Mom.
J: Hi, honey.
B: You're not his type. He's not big on sleaze.
F: He's probably just never tried it.
B: Five-by-five.