Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

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

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

He said you would do it.

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

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

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

She was here, and she spoke to me.

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

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

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

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

Cos she was trying to protect me.

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

- Did you kill her? - What?

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

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

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

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

OK, let's look at this objectively.

That computer's a moron.

Why is it doing this to me?

You shouldn't have done that.

You lose, mate.

You'd rather I slip into something more comfortable.

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

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