That was the third one, the one where Faith found out why she'd stolen the first one back, why she wrote the second one in code.

“I really must stop being so predictable,” Giles mutters.

No, wait, you're not two hundred years old, iffy-Irish and dead.

"It's eerie, that's what. And kind of beautiful."

Hey, maybe that can be our new strategy. Confuse the big bad with our amazingly trendy hair styles.

"I can make waffles," she says brightly. "I'm good at making waffles. It's one of my skills."

"Also, take off your pants."

I know what he's thinking. We don't want another Giles.

There's something about being a librarian here that makes Buffy smile a little when she and Dawn walk into Sunnydale High every morning.

He turned away from her and sat on the bed. "Some thing about the whole family being slaughtered back in Ireland by vampires. I mean, vampires, right? Who believes in that? But," he turned and looked at her. "You're the first person to even notice."

"You know this doesn’t mean anything, right?" Buffy says and Xander grins that crooked, self-deprecating smile.