Back in the alley, Spike chokes out an apology and yanks out the rebar as Buffy springs into action, grabbing an abandoned blanket and calling 911. It seems that both Ronnie and Spike have gone into shock. "Wrong maneuver. Not hardly helpful," panics Spike, and then screams, "Help me!!!" Buffy snaps at him that he's "not the one who needs help." Oh but he really, really is. Spike paces and begins his Rain Man impression, mumbling, "Toomuchtoomuchtoomuch" and clutching at his head. He flails his hands at an invisible assailant and Buffy tells him to take whatever mental fit he's throwing somewhere else. Yes, please. Watching Spike rant and rave isn't my idea of thrilling television. Buffy looks like she has no idea how to deal with the Spike of the moment and instead turns her attention back to Ronnie. Spike kneels by her, telling her, "All this is just the beginning, love. The real headliner's coming and when that band hits the stage all this will come tumbling in death. And screaming horror. And bloodshed." He points a finger at the ground (with a strange hand-gesture that reminds me a lot of an ex of mine) and pontificates, "From beneath you it devours." Buffy just stares, at a total loss for words. Spike takes a moment to mourn the greasy little dog I'd already forgotten about and then takes off, running clumsily down the alley.
Ash: Heh. He's gone all Improv Workshop 101.
Ace: Eh, what?
Ash: The crazy-talk. It's a standard beginning improv assignment. I've seen it done just like that a ton of times. Done it a few times myself.
Ace: You? Tall, silent and disturbingly even-tempered? You're the least actorly personality I know. I'd pay to see that. Do it now! Do it now!
Ash: So you can yell at me for talking during Buffy? No way. Must've been an easy episode to write, though. Just set up a framework, tell Marsters the few things he needs to fit in and let him work his improv mojo for twenty minutes.