Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

about our mysterious demon collectors,
A gift is traditional. I've read about it.
Hopefully it involves treacle and a headmaster.
Good times. Go with it.
Yes. Fabulous technology.
You have no idea how much thrashing you is going to improve my day.
I'm sorry. That was rude.
I know we're not particularly fond of each other, Rupert,
The first of many.
- Go and eat. - OK.
- How do I kill it? - Silver. A weapon made of silver.
- Apparently not. - We got trouble.
I'm good.
Ethan.
This anger. Rage.
Agent Finn. Go ahead.
Of course, you could smash my toes with a hammer
Be careful with her. She reacts on instinct.
Had a couple of 'em working for me once. They're more: "Like to crush. Crush now?"
Buffy, it's not your call. This is a military operation now.
That's my lamp.
When did all that fall apart?
Oh, they raid hot spots - areas of otherworldly energy.
That's it. Let's go.
No. When I find Ethan I can clear all this up without Buffy ever having to find out.
Spontaneous poetic exclamations. Lord, spare me college boys in love.
- What are you? - I'm the Slayer.
OK. There's a demon and Giles is gone. But it doesn't mean that he's hurt.
Ethan's not exactly a reliable source, but I'm not sure that he's wrong about them.
You're, like, make the plan, execute the plan...
I don't like this feeling. A sort of mindless need to destroy.
You're hard to find. These halls are quite the labyrinth.
Once you get to know her, she's a very unique girl.
Spike. Wonderful. The perfect end to a perfect day.
Turns out I suddenly find myself needing to know the plural of apocalypse.
BEEP BEEP OUT OF THE WAY IT IS IT IS ME, THE DAVID COMISH!
Paralysing mucus. Shoots out through the nose. Sets up fast.