I think I religiously laugh in this scene.
Oz: It’s a dream. Come back to me.
Angel: You still my girl?
Spike: You know why I really hate you, Summers?
Faith!Buffy: Because I’m stuck up tight-ass with no sense of fun?
Spike: Well… yeah, that covers a lot of it.
Faith!Buffy: Because I can do anything I want, and instead I choose to pout and whine and feel the burden of slayerness? I mean, I could be rich, I could be famous, I could have anything… anyone. Even you, Spike. I could ride you at a gallop until your legs buckled and your eyes rolled up. I’ve got muscles you’ve never even dreamed of, I could squeeze you until you pop like warm champagne and you’d beg me to hurt just a little bit more. And you know why I don’t? Because it’s wrong.
Spike: Hey, look at me. I. Love. You. […] You’re all I bloody think about… dream about. You’re in my gut, in my throat… I’m drowning in you, Summers, I’m drowning in you.