Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Spike has a soul now. That's what's gonna stop him from hurting people.

I like that you like hot cocoa. Redeye, please.

- So, you're freelance? - Hm...

That's gotta be rough. Getting pulled out of your home,

By which I mean, for example, boating or mountain climbing.

- If we play the percentages... - Something's eating Xander's head.

Like a bidet of evil

Uh-huh, uh-huh.

Is that right? Why's that, then?

- I can't tell if I've got the right rope. - That depends what it's for.

- Buffy? - Oh, Principal Wood. It's you.

There must be a reason why the chip is going wonky.

I could never do that.

I have to ask. Why on earth did you make that decision?

More importantly, you just hit me. Why didn't your chip go off?

You wanna help us get researchy? We're trying to invade Buffy's date's privacy.

Wear hoops, they'll catch, rip your lobe off. Lobes flying everywhere.

- Hey, someone's here. - Guys, guess what?

See? I knew it.

Well, there's a good chance, but I'm hoping for the best.

And the principal?

It can't just keep happening that demon women find me attractive.

Because, guys, we have to face it, we know nothing about the First.

You don't need a manual, it's intuitive.

That would've been bad. Listen, is this because I'm friends with Buffy?

- Looks like you found her some stuff. - Oh, hello. Yes.

- I have an assignment for you. - I follow Buffy's orders now.

I have this whole theory about a promotion. Or he's evil.

No, I meant move on from this imposed super-self-reliance.

It didn't work cos there wasn't enough blood.

Might be a date.

(Xander) You killed your best friend.

Something functional around the house, or, you know, recreational.

Nothing? No records or certificates?

Ooh! Ahh! It burns as it ineffectually passes through me.

I should go. I don't wanna be late.

Watching a reality show about a millionaire.