Doyle: (On Angel's home) Well I like the place. Not much with the view, but it has a certain Batcave air to it.

Doyle: Let me tell you a little bedtime story.
Angel: But I'm not sleepy.
Doyle: Once upon a time, there was a vampire. And he was the meanest vampire in all the land. I mean, other vampires were afraid of him he was such a bastard. Then, one day, he's cursed, by gypsies. They restore his human soul and suddenly he's mad with guilt. You know "What have I done..." You know, he's freaked.
Angel: Okay. Now I'm sleepy.
Doyle: Yeah well, it's a fairly dull tale. It needs a bit of sex, is my feeling. So sure enough, enters a girl. Pretty little blonde thing. Vampire slayer by trade. And our vampire falls madly in love with her. But eventually the two of them, well, they get fleshy with one another. And the moment he- well, I guess the technical term is "Perfect Happiness". But when our boy gets there, he goes bad he kills again. It's ugly. So when he gets his soul back for the second time, he figures hey he can't be anywhere near young Miss Puppy-Eyes without endangering them both. So what does he do? He takes off, goes to L.A, to fight evil and atone for his crimes. He's a shadow, a faceless champion of the hapless human race. Say, you wouldn't have a beer of any kind here, would you?

Doyle: It's about showing people there's still love and hope in the world.
Homeless Woman: Spare change?
Doyle: Get a job, you lazy sow.

[Angel bumps into Sunnydale acquaintance Cordelia at a Hollywood party.]
Cordelia: So, um, are you still... 'Grrr'?
Angel: Yeah. There's not actually a cure for that.

[An offer of help from a wealthy admirer has moved Cordelia to tears.]
Cordelia: Oh, God, I'm sorry! I'm getting all weepy in front of you. I probably look really scary. I finally get invited to a nice place... with no mirrors, and... lots of curtains... Hey! You're a vampire!
Russell Winters: What? No, I'm not.
Cordelia: Are too!
Russell: I don't know what you're talking about.
Cordelia: I'm from Sunnydale -- we had our own Hellmouth! I think I know a vampire when I... am... alone with him... in his fortress-like home. And, you know? I think I'm just feeling a little light-headed from hunger. I'm just wacky! And kidding!! Ha, ha!...
Russell: Truth is, I'm glad you know. It means we can skip the formalities.

Russell: We do things a certain way in LA. I keep my name out of the paper and I don't make waves. And in return I can do anything I want.
[Angel puts his foot on Russell's chair and whispers]
Angel:Can you fly? (proceeds to kick Russell out the window. Russell becomes dust. Angel turns and walks away, slipping Lindsey's business card in Lindsey's pocket) Guess not.

Doyle: They're messages I get... you know, from the higher powers, whoever they may be. You know ... it's my gift!
Cordelia: If that was my gift, I'd return it. I mean, you get those headaches, and you do this 'bleh' thing with your face.
Doyle: [grimacing] What thing with my face?
Cordelia: Plus, your visions are kind of lame. A bar? That's nice and vague. I mean, they should send you one of those self-destructing tapes, you know? That comes with a dossier?

Cordelia: I'm an actress, a student of the human animal. I don't need to talk to people to know their story. [scans and points] Jazz-hands over there? Mama's boy. Peter Pan complex. [points again] Self-absorbed closet-deb, with a big 'the world owes me' chip on her shoulder. [points at Sharon leading Kevin up the stairs] And check out 'Sarah, Plain and Tall.' Has, or comes from, big money.
Doyle: How do you know all that?
Cordelia: Well, you've got to be rich to snag the Calvin Klein model she's leaving with.
Doyle: Yeah, well, they're all riveting insights and such, but we need to find someone that's in trouble?

Angel: So what are you looking for?
Kate: Me? I guess it depends on how many daiquiris I've had. Wow, way to come off as a drunken slut.

[Doyle finds a bra in Cordelia's messy living room and holds it up.]
Cordelia: Oh, that is so high school. "Ooh-ooh! Cordelia wears bras! She has girl parts!"

Angel: I know you guys have been working hard. I mean, you've been cooped up inside a lot. And to show my appreciation, I was thinking, the night being... you know... young and all, that the three of us could, well... should... you know... maybe, go out... ... you know... ... ... for fun.
Cordelia: Or we can go home.
Doyle: And you can sit in the dark alone.
Angel: God yes. Thank you.

[Angel has just saved Rachel from a violently abusive boyfriend, while Spike watches -- and narrates -- from the rooftop.]
Spike [as Rachel, falsetto]: How can I thank you, you mysterious, black-clad, hunk of a night thing?
Spike [as Angel, basso]: No need, little lady, your tears of gratitude are enough for me. You see, I was once a bad-ass vampire, but love and a pesky curse defanged me. Now I'm just a big, fluffy puppy with bad teeth. [Rachel sways closer to Angel; he steps back, warding her off with his hands.] No, not the hair! Never the hair!
Spike [as Rachel]: But there must be some way I can show my appreciation.
Spike [as Angel]: No, helping those in need's my job. And working up a load of sexual tension and prancing away like a magnificent poof is truly thanks enough!
Spike [as Rachel]: I understand. I have a nephew who's gay, so...
Spike [as Angel]: Ah. Say no more. Evil's still afoot ... and I'm almost out of that nancy-boy hair gel that I like so much. Quickly! To the Angelmobile -- AWAY! [Rachel and Angel leave. Spike lights a cigarette.]
Spike [as Spike]: Go on, Liam. Play the big, strapping hero while you can. You have a few surprises coming your way--the Ring of Amarra, a visit from your old pal Spike, and--oh, yeah--your gruesome, horrible death.

Angel: You might as well go home, Spike. The Gem of Amarra stays with me.
Spike: Why? Because you're 'Angel, Vamp Detective' now? I'm so scared. What's next? Vampire Cowboy? Vampire Fireman? Oh, Vampire Ballerina!
Angel: I do like to work with my legs.

Doyle: I'm still going to go celebrate with a drink down in the pub.
Cordelia: He'd celebrate the opening of a mailbox with a drink down in the pub.

[Doyle is suffering from a severe hangover.]
Doyle: Oh, God... You know what would feel really good right now? One of those mind-numbing, head-cracking visions that I get from time to time... because that would really kill me. What, is there some trick to this?
Cordelia: [takes the aspirin bottle away from Doyle and dispenses three tablets] I think the 'trick' is laying off the ale before you start quoting Angela's Ashes and weeping like a baby-man.
Doyle: Hey, that's a good book.
Cordelia: So I've heard. But I doubt very much that the main characters are Betty and Barney Rubble, as you so vehemently insisted last night. Also? I don't think Oz appreciated being called "my little Bamm-Bamm" all night.