WES: Hello Claude. It's Wesley.
CLAUDE: You don't sound well. Did something happen to Rupert?
WES: No. This is about Angel. Or, rather, a new enemy he's facing. I trust you're familiar with the legendary vampire Mal.
CLAUDE: Mal is in Los Angeles? For Angel? What a terrible honor.
WES: You believe he's real? No. Knowing you, that shouldn't surprise me.
CLAUDE: I've worked up quite a dossier on him. It helps to fill in the fourteen century gap.
WES: You mean he's been here?
CLAUDE: He regularly returns to this dimension. At least once every few decades. Usually to attack other vampires. But never Slayers. Which is why the Council never noted these appearances.
WES: What sort of vampires would he attack?
CLAUDE: The most powerful. It was a way to confirm his supremacy. I'll send you the information. What's your fax number?
WES: One question. When he fought these vampires, what were his usual tactics?
CLAUDE: There were no tactics. He'd challenge his opponent, then gather round as many vampires as he could to watch him beat the unlucky vampire to a bloody pulp.
WES: I thought Mal was renowned for his ingenuity.
CLAUDE: He is. But only against a numerically superior enemy. Armies and the like. He doesn't need to be clever to beat a single opponent.
Mal quickly realized that the freeway was the quickest way to get around Los Angeles. But he didn't bother to use a car. Why should he, when he could run as fast as the freeway traffic for a few miles at a time? This caused quite a few motorists' heads to turn. Mal realized it might be fun to leap into a car, kill the driver and take the wheel. But he preferred to kill in volume. Perhaps something in the car pool lane later on. For the time being, he departed from the Harbor Freeway and entered South Central Los Angeles. To his dismay, Mal had noticed that few people walked the streets in this city. Everywhere he went, there was nothing but the occasional woman in an alley or a couple of teenaged runaways. These slim pickings certainly didn't work up his appetite. He felt like a hawk in a land of vultures. But after being patient enough and walking down enough streets, Mal spotted something worthy of his effort. On Budlong Avenue, four young men sat in a parked car, their engine running. Mal quickly and quietly approaches. The engine roars, and the driver floors the gas petal. But the car does not move. It just tilts forward. Mal had grabbed the rear bumper and lifted the spinning tires two feet off the ground. The men inside yell to each other in panicked confusion. Mal lifts the car higher, until he has overturned the vehicle and the driver is looking at him. Mal steps to his left, reaches through the driver's side window, pulls out the driver and drains the screaming young man. The man sitting behind the driver sticks his gun out of his window to fire on Mal. The vampire rips the gun out of the man's hand, pulls him out and snaps his neck. By then, the two men on the other side of the car have climbed out of their windows and fled. Mal leaps over the car and catches up to them when they are fifteen feet from the car. He comes at them from behind and grabs and breaks their right arms before they knew he was on top of them. Their guns fall to the pavement. He steps in front of the two men so they can get a good look. Mal's appearance adds to their fear and confusion.
MAL: You carry weapons. Are you soldiers? [The two men wearing red bandanas give Mal an agonized "What the hell do you want from us?" look.] Then die like soldiers.
The men reach down for their guns. Mal does a backwards hand spring and kicks both men in the head, knocking them on their backs. He tosses their bodies over to where their friends' corpses are. He drains the body of the man who's neck he snapped, then feeds off his last two victims while they are still alive. After going back to his human face, Mal piles the bodies up on the sidewalk and picks up one of their guns. He looks over the Tec-9, figures out how to remove the magazine, checks how many rounds are inside, puts the magazine back into the gun, and tries to fire it. After a few failed attempts, he decides to flip the gun's one moveable lever. With the safety off, he squeezes a few rounds into the head of one of his kills. The commotion has caused three young men from down the street to come out and see what was happening. They notice the overturned car, the bodies, and the man firing the gun. They walk up to Mal and point three guns at his head. He looks at them, smiles innocently, and drops his gun.
MAL: Were these your friends? [The three men with blue bandanas look down at the four bodies. It doesn't take them long to realize that Mal's victims had come to their street to kill them.] No. Your uniform is different. Were they your foes? [The three men look at Mal as if he's from Mars.] I suppose that would make me your friend.
He holds out his right hand. One of the men slaps it. Mal pulls him close and bites his neck. He screams out as his friends get a look at Mal's red eyes. They point their guns at him, but their friend's body shields him. So instead, they run back towards their house, looking over their shoulders and pointing their guns behind them. They see Mal drop their friend's body and run after them. They shoot a few rounds, then stop and turn around. But Mal's not there. In the time it took them to turn, he snuck in front on them. Before they can figure this out, Mal grabs both of their necks and lifts them up into the air. They try to point their guns at him, but he crushes both their spines.
Xander sits on the couch, his bandaged left arm in a sling. Anya sits on his right, holding his right hand. Willow sits on his left. Dawn and Andrew sit in the chairs, and the Potentials stand around the outside, looking at Xander.
XANDER: The doctor said they would have the prosthetic by Tuesday. Usually these things take a week. But Faith told Lindsey, and he called his old doctor in LA, and that speeded things up. He also talked to me about the, adjustment.
DAWN: Maybe you can get a new hand like he did.
XANDER: That would require a live donor.
ANYA: Then you can take Andrew's hand. [looks at Andrew] Clearly Xander's more deserving.
ANDREW: [looking nervous] That's very funny, Anya.
ANYA: No it's not. Xander lost an appendage. That's horrible.
DAWN: Where are we going to find a doctor who's willing to perform the operation? It is sort of illegal.
ANYA: So is murder. Andrew already crossed that Rubicon.
ANDREW: Can we please stop talking so enthusiastically about mutilating me? For a second there, it sounded like you two were being serious.
XANDER: For the record, I'm against treating Andrew like a living, breathing Mr. Potato Head. Plus, it would be creepy having someone else's body part. I'd spend all my time worrying about where that hand's been.
WILLOW: [looking worried at how casually her friends are discussing this topic] It's nice to know we can all agree than there's no such thing as a good dismemberment.
ANYA: Who said we all agree?
Buffy, Faith and Spike stagger through the front door, looking bruised and dejected. Everyone crowds around them. Giles comes into the foyer from the dining room.
GILES: I take it you found Seth. Things didn't go well?
BUFFY: It was an improvement.
FAITH: We gave him some good shots. Knocked him down a couple times.
SPIKE: He left town. We didn't. Draw your own bloody conclusions.
Giles's phone rings. He answers it.
WES: It's Wesley. Are you alone?
GILES: Wesley?
WES: There's something we need to talk about. Away from Buffy and Faith.
GILES: Will you excuse me? I apologize. [Giles goes outside onto the back porch] This had better be important.
WES: Are you familiar with the vampire Mal? The killer of twenty Slayers?
GILES: The Ethiopian? Yes, I've heard the legend.
WES: I have good reason to believe that legend knocked me and all my friends unconscious earlier tonight.
GILES: You mean there's a vampire in Los Angeles who claims to be him?
WES: I was doubtful at first. But he appears to be the genuine article. And he's after Angel and Connor.
GILES: You're serious.
WES: Regrettably. His appearance, his strength, his reflexes. They're well beyond the capacity of any normal vampire.
GILES: And you suspect this extraordinary vampire might come after Buffy and Faith.
WES: I don't. Mal hasn't even attempted to kill a Slayer for nearly eighteen centuries. He appears to be drawn to the novelty of a vampire offspring and his ensouled champion father.
GILES: Yes, I suppose that would catch his attention. As would two Slayers. Both of whom have lived a long time, and one of whom has performed feats no other Slayer can lay claim to.
WES: Yes, Buffy and Faith are very special. But my hunch is that Mal's content with an even twenty. However, since I may be wrong, I feel obligated to warn you.
GILES: That's good of you. What should I be on the lookout for?
WES: Red eyes. Very long fangs. Looks like, I don't know, Wesley Snipes.
GILES: Wesley Snipes? Really?
WES: That's the best I can think of. But the other details should be a clear giveaway.
GILES: So if I'm out, and I see black vampire with red eyes and saber-teeth fangs, I should run like bloody hell, and tell everyone with me to do the same?
WES: That would be very smart. Once again, I don't think he's after them.
GILES: Don't worry. I won't act alarmist. After all, we already have plenty to worry about.
WES: I thought you might. Oh. The faxes have come in. Sorry. Claude seems to have done a fair amount of research into Mal.
GILES: That seems appropriate. The Council denied his existence. Which would only motivate Claude to prove them wrong.
WES: He sent me everything he had so that we can be better prepared.
GILES: Best of luck. To you and Angel.
WES: Thank you. Hopefully we won't need it. [hangs up] But right now, I'd have to say otherwise. [sighs]
Giles walks into the kitchen.
BUFFY: What did Wesley want? [Giles looks a little nervous] Is something wrong with Angel?
GILES: No. It was nothing. He merely wanted to check up on how we are.
BUFFY: What does he think about our big bad? [Giles takes a few seconds]
GILES: Oh yes. Him. He has no idea. We really didn't talk about much. Just Claude. He wanted to know if Claude returned safely to Paris. Watcher stuff. [walks away from Buffy. This was not what he needed. If Mal was as good as his press said he was, defeating the First could turn out to be rather pointless.]
Mal walks into a police station and approaches an officer sitting at her desk.
MAL: I would like to report a murder. Where is the person in charge?
HELEN: Did you call 911?
MAL: I need to speak to the person in charge. It is very urgent.
HELEN: Why don't you tell me, and then I'll be sure to pass it on to Captain Gorman.
MAL: Take me to Captain Gorman.
HELEN: I promise I'll relay your information immediately, Mister, what is your name? [Mal walks by her. Helen follows and tries to stop him.] Excuse me sir. You can't go back there.
Mal's looking for an older man with more insignia on his uniform than the other officers. He stops the first man he finds who looks the part.
MAL: Captain Gorman?
HELEN: I'm sorry, Captain. I tried to stop him.
MAL: I need to report a murder. Yours.
GORMAN: Excuse me? Sir, if this is your idea of a prank, you're in serious trouble. And if this is some sort of threat –
MAL: Not a threat. A prophecy.
Gorman looks confused. Mal goes bumpy. Gorman and Helen look terrified. Mal grabs Gorman, spins him around and bites his neck from behind. The captain's body shields Mal from the approaching officers who draw their guns on him. It also allows them to watch Gorman's face as the life is drained from him. Mal sees to men in front of him and Helen to his right. She's trembling. He assumes she won't fire. When Mal finishes draining the captain, he tosses his body at the cop in front of him and on his right, knocking this man down. He leaps at the other officer, who fires once and misses. That's the only round he gets off. Mal grabs the man's right arm with his left hand, slams the gun into the wall, knocking it out of the cop's hand. At the same time, he crushes the man's radius and ulna. Mal punches the guy in the sternum with his right fist, stopping his heart and ending his agony. It's Mal's idea of being merciful. He glances to his right, catching Helen's eyes. She wisely runs away. Mal wasn't going to kill her anyway. The other officer gets his captain's corpse off of him and tries to stand. Mal kicks him in the mouth with his right foot, knocking out several teeth. He picks the man up and drinks him to death before draining the other officer he's already killed. Two more officers, the remainder of the force in the precinct house at that time, approach Mal from behind, guns drawn. One of them tells Mal to put his hands up. He does this, then leaps in the air, attaching himself to the panelling on the ceiling. The cops fire and miss. When they see Mal defying gravity, among other things, they pause for a second. Mal crawls away. Then fire a few more rounds, none of which connect. Mal falls down behind a desk so they can't see him. The two men split up to surround him. Mal throws the desk at the cop to his left, and a file cabinet at the one to his right. The file cabinet knocks the man down and crushes his head. The other officer pushes the desk away and manages to stand up. He can't see Mal, who comes out of nowhere, picks him up, and drains the man by biting into the renal artery above his kidney. He then drains last officer by biting his forearms. Helen has returned. She's pointing her gun at Mal while he's leaning down to drain his last victim. She puts a bullet in his back. He stands and swats her gun away, but doesn't grab her.
MAL: Someone needs to tell the tale.
He knocks her out with the back of his right hand, then goes for the holding cell. Though they could not see the carnage, the four inmates heard the chaos, and grew excited. Mal approaches them with his human face on. They look around, each assuming Mal's a sociopathic friend one of the other three who's come to spring his buddy. Certainly he'll get caught before the night is out – you don't burst into a police station, kill a few cops and get away with it. But they could still benefit from his homicidal impetuosity. Mal grabs the bars and rips open the door. The men try to leave, but Mal blocks their path, and actually forces them into the back of the cell. Then he closes the door, bares his fangs and goes to work. So much for this being their lucky night.
At the Hyperion, Wesley and Fred begin to look over the new material. The phone rings.
WES: Hello?
ANNETTE: Wesley? Hi! It's Annette? Did you get it?
WES: I'm very sorry. Who are you, again?
ANNETTE: Annette Marcel. Claude's daughter. I sent you the dossier on Mal. Helping you with research. Just like old times.
WES: Annette. Of course! I apologize for not recognizing you voice, Annie. I've been very busy, and it has been a long while.
ANNETTE: Seven years. Papa said you've changed. So have I. Now we both fight vampires. I've slayed thirty seven on my own.
WES: That's impressive. But aren't you a little young for that kind of combat?
ANNETTE: I know. Few Watchers slay when they are eighteen. But I started training at fourteen.
WES: You're eighteen? My Lord, it has been a long while.
ANNETTE: I've read the file on Mal. And I translated a few pages from the Persian myself. I can trying to send you copies of the originals, if you want to rate my work.
WES: That's not necessary. I'm sure your father gave it a thorough checking-over.
ANNETTE: I don't envy your Angel. He faces an opponent with no known weaknesses or vulnerabilities.
WES: Yes. We've started to notice that.
ANNETTE: Good luck. I would like you to live long enough for me to see the new you, Wesley.
WES: I'd like to live as well. [hangs up]
FRED: Who was that?
WES: Claude's daughter Annette. She had something of a crush on me. I was doing research for my dissertation at her father's library. She helped explain to me his rather byzantine method of cataloguing.
FRED: A schoolgirl crush on a college boy. Even though her dad really didn't seem to like you. Or even respect you.
WES: Annette was a bookworm. Awkward, clumsy. Big, thick glasses. She spent her afternoons in a library rather than on a playground. I think she was more attracted to the knowledge in my brain than to the head and face which surrounded it.
FRED: She only liked you for your mind. How shallow.
Mal combed the town for more cops and gang members and other armed people. He couldn't find any cops, but fell upon two pairs of rival gang members walking the streets. He killed them, took their money and jewelry, but tossed their drugs into the sewer. Mal had always avoided mind-altering chemicals. He didn't even drink alcohol. Mal had a fear of losing control. Searching for more enemies, Mal piled the bodies in the middle of an intersection. Then he went out to look for more. Mal soon realized he liked New York much better. Over there he barely had to walk three blocks before finding three dozen possible victims. The subways in that city were far more crowded. And the police were more numerous. Pretty soon, he'd have to resort to ripping people out of their cars. And that was no way to hunt.
Even worse, he passed by more than one vampire bar. They were packed. There were so few good targets, vamps had to pay for it. They were domesticating themselves. Instead of hunting in packs for live victims, they sat around a table and made jokes over a few pints. He felt like a wild lion visiting a zoo, ashamed for his tamed brethren. Even those who still hunted shared bodies back at their lairs. These were the symptoms of overpopulation. Or fear of a dangerous enemy. Either way, something had to change. Mal decided to take no chances. He'd kill their enemies. And thin their numbers. Mal found four vampires accosting a young couple who had walked out of a supermarket on Western Avenue. They took the humans to a nearby alley to feed in seclusion. Mal stands a block away, 100 yards from the group. He takes out an arrow and pulls back his bow. Mal carefully aims and fires. The arrow pierces two of the vampire's hearts. The other two vampires stop feeding when they notice their two friends have turned to dust. They look around, and see no one. Then they notice Mal, fifty yards away and closing. He has on his vampire face. They see the arrow on the ground, and wonder how it killed two vampires. The humans try to escape. The vampires make sure to pin them against the wall. Mal takes the string off the bow, so now he's carrying a seven foot staff and a six foot rope.
MAL: Let them go. Or I will kill the two of you. With my bow.
The vampires look at Mal and laugh. He has no arrows. And his bow's not even strung. They're not allowing some crank to bogart their kills, so they go back to feeding. Within less than two seconds, Mal rips them away from the humans. The people flee.
VAMPIRE: Aw man. Say it ain't so. Another vampire with a soul.
MAL: No. I'm a vampire with soul. Huge difference.
The vampires look confused, then attack. Mal drives his bow through one of their hearts. He wraps his string around the other one's neck and garrotes him. Mal restrings his bow, drops it and goes after the humans. They have nearly run to their car when Mal catches up to them. He considers them lucky. They're getting killed by a real vampire, not some lowly urchins. Afterwards, Mal carries their bodies back to that intersection. Hopefully, he has attracted some more attention by now.
Connor lies on his bed, his shirt off, staring at the ceiling. Cordelia enters. She sees his numerous bruises.
CORDY: How are you?
CONNOR: Been worse.
CORDY: We're going to find Angel. We're going to kill this guy. Don't lose hope.
CONNOR: I haven't. He surprised me. I didn't know how good he was. I'll be ready next time.
CORDY: You won't have to do this on your own.
CONNOR: Yes I will.
CORDY: We're a team, Connor. Even without Angel. The others are doing research. They've figured out who are mystery vampire is.
CONNOR: Who is he?
CORDY: Someone named Mal. A couple thousand years old. Offed twenty Slayers.
CONNOR: Big deal. Slayers aren't so tough.
CORDY: You smiled. It was a little smile. But that's the first one I've seen from you today.
CONNOR: I miss Dawn.
CORDY: I know. We could use a vision right about yesterday. But the Powers never seem to come through when you really need them.
CONNOR: I miss Dawn. Not the visions. Having her around makes the pain go away.
CORDY: I suppose that's one euphemism for it.
CONNOR: Not just that. [grins] Though that's great. But she also makes sense of things. You know, gives me hope. She makes me think I can do anything.
CORDY: Then prove her right. [leans down and kisses his forehead]
Mal tosses his latest two kills on the pile. A truck comes down graffiti-strewn Slausan Avenue. It stops in front of the bodies and thirty feet in front of Mal, who's all fangy and ready for a fight. Two men are in the cab. Another stands on the flatbed behind a six-shooter catapult like the one Gunn used to work. Two men stand on either side of him with ordinary crossbows. Three teenagers step out of the flatbed and stand to the right of the truck, holding various weapons.
MAL: Walk away, and you live. I'll only kill those of you who try to kill me.
They assume this vamp must be trippin'. The man behind the catapult fires. Mal grabs the four foot-long wooden stake out of the air with both hands and tosses it right back, entering below the shooter's chin and exiting through the top of his skull. The others should have taken this as a warning. The two men with crossbows fire, and Mal swats both arrows away with the backs of his hands as if they were flies. They leap off the back of the truck as the driver guns his vehicle, trying to run Mal over. He leaps forward, smashing his head through the front windshield, grabbing the driver, ripping him out of his seat, then bursting through the back window. As the two of them rolled down the flatbed, Mal bit into his chest, crunching his sternum and tapping into his aorta. When they hit the road, Mal had to stop feeding. He stood up and retreated, allowing the six remaining men to get a good look at what he had done. After a few seconds, Mal leaps back into the fray, bounding at a teenager from twenty feet away. The young man swings his ax. Mal crunches his head down into his chest. The ax misses the top of his hair by a centimeter. Before his feet hit the ground, Mal digs into his neck, taking out a good chunk of flesh. Another man comes at Mal from his left, swinging a sledgehammer. Mal turns, grabs the head of the hammer with his left hand, grabs the man's hair with his right, pulls him forward and bites the back of his neck, severing his spine. Behind him, a fighter stabs a baseball bat he has fashioned into a stake towards Mal's heart. He bends backwards, averting attack and going into a bridge. He pushes off his hands, shoots his legs up, grabs the fighter's head between his ankles, flips him forward and to the ground, then snaps the man's neck with his lower legs. While he's still down on his back, one of the three remaining vampire hunters drives a stake down towards his chest. Mal grabs the stake with his left hand and rips it away. Another fighter sends a machete for his neck. Mal sticks the flat end of the stake in the path of the machete. It cuts nine inches into the twelve inch-long stake, not then gets stuck. Mal smiles and sighs.
MAL: That's a good stake.
While the machete's blade is lodged in the stake, Mal twists the stake, pulling the machete out of the fighter's hand. The young man was in no mood to appreciate the irony of a vampire saving his life with a wooden stake. The third remaining fighter hits Mal in the face with a 2x4. He grabs the man's legs, who hits Mal two more times in the head while Mal pulls him down. Mal stands, still holding onto the man's legs, then hurls him into the truck's rear bumper. The other two men have retrieved and disentangled their weapons. Mal knocks the man with a machete down with a right hook kick and fells the man with the stake with a left hook. He sticks his fingers into each of their lower spines, paralyzing them. Mal walks over to the truck and drains the fighter with the 2x4 before returning to finish off these two men, who were conscious but couldn't feel or use their legs.
MAL: When you are given a chance to live, always take it. Right now, you have to ask yourself, was this vampire worth dying for?
Fred, Gunn and Wes sit around the lobby and read the information Claude sent them about Mal.
WES: [mutters to himself] I thought Hannibal destroyed that town.
FRED: Looks like this is his first time out west. Says he was last in America in 1962, for the New York World's Fair.
WES: But there were no reports of mass killings at that event.
GUNN: Maybe he wanted to lay low.
FRED: This guy doesn't lay low very well. Like this report. Says that In 1972 he popped up on the lower Danube and took out more than one hundred Romanian Secret Police. That's the other thing. Am I the only one who's noticed this guy's got a hankering for attacking the, you know, bad guys?
WES: He attacks the powerful. Very often, they also happen to be the bad guys.
GUNN: Like this one. In 1728, he massacres slave traders on the the Angolan coast. Then he frees the slaves and leads them against the tribes that sold them into slavery. Wait. Then the freed slaves sell these enemies into slavery. What the hell? Then he kills the slave traders who buy those slaves, frees them, and leads them against their enemies. [reads some more] He does this four times before leaving. And each time he steals the purchase price. So that's why he did it again and again.
FRED: A vicious, money-making circle.
WES: That, and the chaos it causes. By the time Mal was finished, he probably had every tribe in Angola at every other tribes' throat. What year was that again?
GUNN: 1728.
WES: Eighteenth century. So it had nothing to do with the bands of displaced Angolan warriors in the seventeenth century who worshipped evil.
FRED: Mal doesn't seem to worship evil. Even though, of course, he is evil. He seems to worship himself.
GUNN: He sure don't got any love for his own kind. In some of these stories, he kills as many vamps as people.
WES: What better way to establish dominance than by killing all possible rivals.
GUNN: Most of 'em ain't rivals. I think he just does it cause he likes to.
Mal enters an abandoned apartment building where six vampires are encamped.
MAL: Who's your leader?
DWAYNE: [stands up and steps in front of Mal] I am.
He looks to have six inches and eighty pounds on Mal. Mal hits him with a right jab, weaker than he's capable of. Dwayne nails Mal with a mighty right hook, expecting the blow to knock Mal down, or at least knock him a step or two back. It achieves neither. Mal lands a left hook, this punch at full power. Dwayne goes wobbly. Mal connects with three quick right jabs and a left uppercut. Then he grabs the woozy Dwayne and tosses him face-first into a wall fifteen feet to Mal's left. Mal raises his left foot and rams his heel into the back of Dwayne's neck, breaking it. He turns to dust as he falls to the ground. Mal looks at the other five vampires. After five seconds, one of them walks up to Mal.
LEROY: You are. [Mal smiles]
MAL: If you insist. Here is what I propose: I will help you gather victims. You will drink their blood. All of it. And in exchange for my generosity, you will deposit the dead where I tell you to. Is that too much to ask?
At first they think this powerful new vampire is a bit thick. Then they figure he's being sarcastic. He isn't. Mal thinks little of other vampires. Which is why he asks so little of them. Meanwhile, in Sunnydale, a leader who thinks the world of some of her followers asks for the opposite.
BUFFY: I know what we need. I know what was missing tonight. You.
WILLOW: [nervous] You think I can kill that guy? I don't even know if I can hurt him.
BUFFY: I'm not asking you to hurt him. All I'm asking is for you to give me a chance to hurt him.
WILLOW: Is that all? Okay. I know a few ways to do that, and at least one of them should work. Or, maybe I could try them all at once, since he is extra powerful. Like I said, is that all?
BUFFY: Well, [pause] if you could maybe think of something to protect the Potentials, a shield or a barrier, I don't know, just for a couple seconds, in case he knocks us down and goes for them. Just a few seconds. That's all I'd need.
WILLOW: If the Potentials stay together, I could buy a couple seconds. Defense is easier than offense. At least when it comes to magic.
The large canine demon bites into Angel's chest and thrashes his head against the sand. With his left hand, Angel grabs onto the demon's right ear and rips it clean off. The demon jumps back and whimpers. Angel gets to his knees and puts his hands on the ground. He growls at the demon. The demon growls back. They leap at each other head-first. Angel bites into its throat. After four or five bites, he pushes the demon onto its back. Angel makes a final, deeper bite, and the demon stops writhing. Angel has nearly bitten its head clean off. This was the third and final monster. They moved too quickly and where too strong for Angel to get a good enough grip to snap their necks. He bit through the first one's spine, and rolled the second one over and mauled its belly, disemboweling the beast. Before dying, the demons had made three very deep bites, one to Angel's left thigh, one to his right shoulder, and one to his chest and back, in addition to numerous deep scratches all over his body, including one that nearly took his right eye out. Exhausted and horribly wounded, Angel sits down, then falls on his back. He hears someone leap into the arena and looks to his left. It's Mal, and he's bearing gifts.