Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

She was here, and she spoke to me.

That computer's a moron.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. When you say "we" you mean me. Me's gotta go to work.

- Why not? - Pain chip, remember? He can't hurt anyone.

But that's all it is, is time. Cos God help me, Buffy, it's still all about you.

- Oh, right. Now you like the haircut. - Love it.

OK, let's look at this objectively.

- How can you be sure of... - No! You are wrong.

It burns. But you can't admit it, so you trump up some charge that I'm back on the juice.

Cos she was trying to protect me.

He said you would do it.

Why is it doing this to me?

Oh, come on. I've just explained...

Call Buffy and just let her know that he's on the move. You're gonna be fine.

- Did you kill her? - What?

But believe me, I'm going for a big finish.

cos we're a couple of carpet fibres away from a case.

I take him, you take her. Or the other way around. Whatever.

You shouldn't have done that.

Buffy, it's OK. She's OK. Not hurt.

You'd rather I slip into something more comfortable.

But if I'm wrong and he is...

Actually, I need some help. I'm looking for this guy.

- Oh, God. And it started with Dawn? - Both of us.

You lose, mate.

Buffy, this thing knows us. It made us think that we were talking to people we knew.