It's not that I don't want to. Sometimes the remote impossible possibility that you might like me was all that sustained me. But not now. Not like this. This isn't real to you, you're only here because of a spell. I mean, if I thought you had one clue what it would mean to me, but you don't, so I can't.
You're a sheep. All you ever do is what everyone else does just so you can say you did it first. And here I am, scrambling for your approval, when I'm way cooler than you are 'cause I'm not a sheep. I do what I wanna do, and I wear what I wanna wear. And you know what? [Xander smiles] I'll date whoever the hell I wanna date. No matter how lame he is. [Xander stops smiling]
Passion. It lies in all of us. Sleeping...waiting...and though unwanted...unbidden...it will stir...open its jaws, and howl. It speaks to us...guides us. Passion rules us all. And we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments. the joy of love...the clarity of hatred...and the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion, maybe we'd know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank. Without passion, we'd truly be dead.
It's so weird. Every time something like this happens, my first instinct is still to run to Angel. I can't believe it's the same person. He's completely different from the guy that I knew.
I'm sorry, but let's not forget that I hated Angel long before you guys jumped on the bandwagon. So I think I deserve a little something for not saying "I told you so" long before now. And if Giles wants to go after the ... fiend that murdered his girlfriend, I say, "Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!"
What if she did? If you ask me, I find myself preferring the old Buffy-whipped Angelus. This new, improved one is not playing with a full sack. I love a good slaughter as much as the next bloke, but his little pranks will only leave us with one incredibly brassed-off Slayer!
No, she's being literal. She used to have all these medical volumes, and diagnosed me with stuff. I didn't have the heart to tell her she was playing it wrong.
Impulsive? Do you remember my ex-boyfriend, the vampire? I slept with him, he lost his soul, now my boyfriend's gone forever, and the demon that wears his face is killing my friends. The next impulsive decision I make will involve my choice of dentures.
I appreciate your thoughts on the matter, in fact I encourage you to always challenge me when you feel it's appropriate; you should never be cowed by authority. Except, of course, in this instance, when I am clearly right and you are clearly wrong.
