Chocolate says "I'm sorry" so much better than words.

Eastlake High makes Buffy's hellmouth look like a crack in the sidewalk.

Marc didn’t want to win by default. He wanted to win for real. Forever.

And I don't think I want to meet this super-reaper." Nash stuffed his hands in his front pockets. "The garden variety's weird enough.

She got to you, too, huh?" I said, sliding onto the bench seat across from him. "Actually, I called her." Luca grinned. "I'm vomiting from a possible case of food poisoning. You?" "Sudden onset menstruation." He nodded respectfully. "Classic." "Yeah, but I should have gone for something more long-term. Yours will get you out of the whole afternoon. Ferris Bueller would be proud.

Talking. According to Marc, I could talk the color off a crayon.

The dead have a way of becoming saints in the eyes of their survivors.