Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

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