Fred learns about Gunn and Gwen. The gang learns about Connor's pyromania. Giles learns what Nina is and tells the Scoobies. Plus, Mal and Nina size each other up as they beat each other up.
At about 6:45 in the morning, Wesley wakes up, puts on his pants and rushes downstairs to get the morning paper and check it for information about Mal's latest exploits. He carries a cup of coffee and the metro section back upstairs with him. As he gets to the room he is using, which is across the hall from Fred's room, she emerges, surprising Wesley. Remembering that he's not wearing a shirt, he feels a bit embarrassed. Wearing only shorts and a tank top, Fred also feels slightly uncomfortable about this overly domestic moment.
"I didn't expect anyone else to be up at this early hour," Wesley confesses.
"Yeah. Me too." Fred notices he has the paper. "Anything in there?"
"A few items of interest. It does seem that Mal laid off the cops and gangs last night. Which, unfortunately, means he had more time to devote to demon fighters."
"Charles!," Fred exclaims. "Is he back?"
"I-I didn't check. He wasn't downstairs. But, as I said, I didn't check. His name doesn't appear in the paper, which is a very good sign."
"I'm sure he came back and is still sleeping. Maybe I should go check – no, ah think I should put some clothes on first." Implying that she wasn't quite decent only made it more difficult for Wesley to take his eyes off her and get his heart to stop racing.
"Yes – clothes. A capital idea. I do seem to be lacking a shirt myself." Whether or not this was his intention, Wesley's comment made Fred look at him even more intently. She was aware that this was the first time they had seen each other first thing in the morning, semi-dressed and with bed-head.
"Really. Ah, umm, ah, I didn't even notice. I, think I should, be goin'." They both leave the hallway, enter their rooms, slam the door and hit the showers.
Two hours later and five miles away, Gunn wakes up in Gwen's bed. He rolls to the left and feels nothing. He opens his eyes and realizes Gwen isn't in the room. That's usually not a good sign. Gunn sits up in bed, feeling dejected. He checks the time. 8:49. His body still aches from the beating Mal gave him the night before. At least he assumes it's from that. And there's still a bump on his head, which definitely was from Mal. Plus, his bandaged left foot hurt when he tried to put it down on the floor. Two minutes after Gunn awoke, and as he was about to get out of bed, Gwen enters. She's wearing red leather pants, a black silk tank top and bright red lipstick. Her hair is teased out, though without the the highlights. It looked like she was returning most of the way to her electrified glam.
"Oh. You're up. I'm sorry. I thought you'd still be asleep. I was gonna wake you to say goodbye before I left."
"Good to know I was worth at least that," a somewhat peeved Gunn responds.
"Okay. I'm sorry. I don't have much experience these sorts of things. So I may be a little unsure about the etiquette of, you know - "
"One-night stands?"
"No! God no. You think that's what I thought this was? Is that what you think it is? Cause I thought it was incredible. You were great. I just got a meeting to go to."
"Ya got an early meeting? For someone without experience, you sure have the lines down pat."
"I really have a meeting. At nine. With a client. Well, a former client. That's why we're meeting. So I can explain the new situation to him. That's why I'm, well, dressed for work," Gwen adds with a smile.
"It's a damn good look for negotiating," Gunn concedes with a grin. "Hard to say no to."
Gwen laughs and sits on the bed next to Gunn. "Is that a request for next time?," she asks with raised eyebrows.
"Is that a request for there being a next time?"
"Good to know we no longer have our signals crossed." Gwen kisses Gunn a few times before feeling compelled by her business engagement to leave. Over at the Hyperion, Wesley, Winifred, Lorne and Cordelia sit around the lobby. All clothed, of course.
"I tried his apartment. No answer," Fred reports.
"The massacre reported in Downey appears to describe the demon fighters he was planning to lead," Wesley concludes. "That said, his name is not mentioned among the twenty or so who were killed. Which strongly indicates that he got away."
"But then why didn't he come back here?," Fred wonders.
"In case you forgot, last night things weren't exactly a love-in around here," Lorne points out. "And, if there was a bloodbath, I'm guessing he wasn't in the mood for any I-told-you-so's."
"Now this one doesn't sound like our bloodsucker," Cordelia announces with some concern. "A bar burned down. Five people dead. Police suspect arson." Right then, the gang is distracted as Gunn limps through the front door.
"Charles!," Fred exclaims as she stands up and runs to him. Naturally, this makes Gunn nervous. A hug really wouldn't feel right.
"Careful," he says with a nervous smile as she rushes up the steps. "I'm still a little busted up. Well, more than a little."
"Where were you? I tried your apartment."
"Woulda been hard to get back there after Mal trashed my ride. Which also was after he took out my mega-crew. Those damn arrows."
"He did the same to me," Wes offers as comfort.
"But in between those two things, I managed to get a teeny-tiny bit of payback. I followed Mal and found him attackin' Gwen. He wanted the jewel inside her head."
"Jewel?," Cordelia asks.
"What jewel," Fred reiterates.
"Actually, it's more of a charm," Wesley explains. "An ancient charm of immense value which also happens to take away Gwen's electrical powers."
"She's no longer zap-girl?," Cordelia asks, before quipping "Guess that means now she's only shocking people with her wardrobe."
"When did this happen?," an already suspicious Fred demands to know.
"Sometime between when Angel got his soul back and when Angel got kidnapped," Gunn answers. "She found it over in Malta."
"I'm sense we don't wanna know how it got in her head," Lorne concludes. "Does this mean she can turn her power on and off, or is it so long to super girl?"
"There isn't a switch," Gunn explains. "She's joined the normals."
"As if that's possible, even without the embarrassing electrocutions," Cordy cattily says to Fred, who also wasn't fond of Gwen.
"So Gwen's still alive?," Fred asks. "And you had something to do with this?"
"Piano wire around the neck. Mal never saw me comin'. Didn't come close to killin' him, but I did break the skin. Once Mal figured out he was bleeding, he freaked. Got the hell outta there."
Wesley ponders this as he paces back and forth. "I believe you've uncovered a weakness. Mal could have easily killed both of you." At first Gunn liked the compliment. But not the alternate scenario which resulted in his death. "Gwen had something he wanted. You had injured Mal. All the more reason for him to finish you off. But he won't continue fighting if he has an open wound." Then, Wesley gets excited. "Do you have the wire? Because if we could obtain some of Mal's blood - "
"Sorry. I kinda left it is his neck when he slugged me and ran away."
"He has a fetish," Lorne declares. "He's this super-killer. Always needs to be in control. Mal gets a cut, it reminds him that he's not invincible. And that's too much for him to bear."
"So we don't have to go for the kill," Cordy proposes. "Not right away. We swing and stab for the other parts of his body. Pretty soon, the mighty warrior's a scared little puppy."
"Does this mean you spent the night at Gwen's?," Fred asks, getting back to what she wants to know. Gunn looks a little uncomfortable. From his lengthy pause, Fred knows he didn't just spend the night at Gwen's. He spent the night with Gwen. Course, she had suspected that once she heard that Gwen was no longer untouchable. "Oh God."
"I'm sorry, Fred. No, I'm not sorry. Not for what I did. I am sorry if it hurts you. But we ain't been together for a while now."
"A little more than a month."
"You know we'd been drifting apart for longer than that."
"I know. But she killed you. You slept with a woman who killed you?"
Cordy tries to be comforting in her own uncomfortable way. "Fred, with the men we hang around, that's kind of normal. It's not like she sent him to Hell, or tried to wreak vengeance upon him. Or, spent years plotting against the man he worked for." Cordy didn't want to leave Wes out. Speaking of Wesley, the more unscrupulous part of him wishes he had tried to make a move on Fred. After all, if the two of them had known what Gunn and Gwen were up to, who knows what could have happened.
For one time, Connor's entrance makes the moment less awkward. He enters through the back door.
"Where were you?," Cordy asks.
"Taking a walk. Couldn't sleep." For the moment, Cordy forgets about Gunn knocking boots with the supertramp and remembers what she read in the paper, as well as the fact that Connor came home smelling of gasoline.
"Someone burned down a bar last night in North Hollywood. They killed five people. Did you happen to pass by there?"
Connor wasn't ashamed. "There were like twenty vampires inside. Don't tell me those people weren't already dead." Everybody realizes that Cordy's suspicions were correct. They gasp.
"You're okay with collateral damage?," Lorne asks nervously. If psycho Connor's returned, he's outta there.
"It was a demon bar! Those people were on the menu. It was too late to save them. But I saved all the people those vampires won't be killing from now on. You got a better way to kill that many vampires, let me know. Until then, don't give me those stupid looks."
Cordy leafs through the paper again. "Was that airplane hangar also you?"
Connor smiles. "Recognize the airport? That's where Mal hung his trophies. They had a big party last night. Vampires only. Until I crashed it."
"With what?," Lorne asks sarcastically. "Napalm and a rocket launcher?"
"That was you we passed!," Cordy exclaims. "You were the one driving the Taurus." Fred also remembers this.
"Don't worry. It belonged to a couple vamps. Which means it's no big deal that it exploded."
"You set off a car bomb?," Wesley asks with equal parts trepidation and admiration. Killing demons with high explosives was something he would think of.
"I did what I had to." For Lorne, this is all too reminiscent of when Holtz blew up Caritas in an effort to kill the pregnant Darla. But, if Connor really had gone bad, Lorne knew this recollection would only make Connor mad at him. So he stays mum.
"You committed a crime," Cordelia responds. "Two crimes. At least. Big, huge felony crimes."
"For destroying demon property?"
"Now wait just a minute!," Lorne interjects, no longer able to hold his tongue.
"Evil demon property," Connor corrects himself. "I fought back. I hurt the bad guys. What's wrong with that?"
"You were reckless," Wesley tries to explain.
"Who are you to give me advice?," Connor scornfully replies. "Even I've been here longer than you."
"Actually, he's – ," and then Gunn realizes why Connor thinks this. And, like everyone else, Gunn looks queasy, since none of them knows how to explain Wesley's absence to Connor.
"What?," Connor asks angrily but innocently. "What were you gonna say?"
"Nothin'," Gunn nervously responds. "Just that he's been fightin' demons as long as the rest of us."
"You mean when he was a Watcher? From what I hear, he didn't do any fighting back then. But enough. I don't care." Connor walks towards the stairs. Then the phone rings. After a couple rings, Fred decides to answer.
"Angel Investigations," she says, though the Angel part was a painful reminder of his absence. "You wanna hire us? How much?" That peaks Cordy's interest. And the prospects of killing something gets Connor's attention.
An hour later, Giles enters the Hyperion. He's never been there before. At first, he's rather impressed by the spaciousness and the decor. He looks up at the balconies and the columns. Lorne stands up from behind the counter.
"Can I help you? Don't be afraid of the makeup. I just got finished shooting a scene as an extra on . . . oh! It's you. Giles! My goodness. This is certainly, a, surprise."
"Where are the others?"
Lorne worries he's going to ask about Angel. "Out. On a job."
Connor, Fred, Cordy, Wes and Gunn are in the sewers, facing off against a giant three-headed demon dog.
"Did he say it was a Cerberus?," Wesley yells over the growling.
"All he said was something was killing the neighborhood pets," Cordy yells back.
"Ah think this fella could eat a whole lot more than Fido," Fred notes. Gunn tries the flamethrower. It keeps the demon at bay. However, he doesn't seem to burn. After a few seconds, he lunges his middle head forward. Cordy and Fred back up. Wesley swings a sword and cuts the head off. But it immediately grows back. Wes and Gunn also retreat.
"I think you have to cauterize the wound to keep the head from growing back," Wesley suggests to Gunn.
"No Wesley!," Fred yells out. "That's with a hydra."
"Then how do you suggest we kill it?"
As the monster steps forward, the four of them retreat. But Connor puts a dagger between his teeth and leaps up onto the ceiling and crawls along it, eluding the demon's heads. He then jumps down onto the monster's back, takes the knife in his hands and severs the demon's spinal cord. His heads fall dead a few feet in front of the rest of the battered and terrified gang. Connor smiles as he leaps down off the demon. "How bout like that?," he asks with a grin, tossing his dagger up in the air and catching it.
"It doesn't matter," Giles responds to Lorne's relief. "I'm only here to use the books Claude dropped off for safe keeping. I hope I won't be getting in the way of anything."
"As if there was something for you to get in the way of," Lorne responds sheepishly. "They're in the office. Knock yourself out. Not literally, of course. I myself used to have a nasty habit of getting conked out."
"Me too," Giles responds with a smile. He goes into the office and closes the door. Lorne sits down and pretends to wipe the sweat off his forehead. That was a close call. He didn't want word getting out about how dysfunctional things had become in Los Angeles. Ironically, Giles had the same worry, and was relieved that Lorne didn't ask about the situation in Sunnydale. Giles left twenty minutes before the gang came back. Cordelia was smiling and holding a check.
"Five thousand dollars! It's great to be making good money again." Then, Cordy's looks shifts to despair. "Even if we may not live to spend it."
"I take it from your chipper looks that it wasn't too tough?," Lorne inquires.
"Wouldn't go that far," Gunn replies.
"The demon was exceedingly tough," Wesley explains.
"But I was tougher," Connor adds with a cocky grin.
"Faster," Cordy corrects him. Arrogance is the last thing Connor needs right now.
Fred walks into the office and sees all the books strewn about. "You doin' some research?," she asks Lorne.
"Not me. Rupert Giles came by."
"Giles!," Cordy exclaims. Then she tries to figure out why. "Did Buffy die again?"
"No."
"What did he want?," Wesley wonders.
"Does he no about Angel?," Cordy asks.
"No."
"You mean he didn't ask about Mal?," Wes follows up.
"He was more concerned about the thing trying to kill him. He took some of Frenchy's books back to Sunnydale."
"Is Dawn okay?," Connor asks.
"No one's dead. Everyone's okay. But they're fighting a Titan. Whatever that is."
"What is that?," Fred asks Wes.
"I'm not sure."
"Whatever it is, it can't be tougher than our monster," Cordy assumes.
The windows in the house were tinted, which proved wonderful for Mal. Before sunrise, some of the vampires working for him had removed the four corpses from the property so that they wouldn't attract the police's attention. Mal stands up in front of the couch, holding the remote, surfing through the three hundred satellite channels his victim had. Every time he changed a channel, there was something new on. He loved it. Television was novel enough to a 3,500 year-old man. But this was truly mind-blowing. The volume on the television is turned all the way down. The stereo speakers blare the bass line at the beginning of Curtis Mayfield's "(Don't Worry) If There's A Hell Below, We're All Going To Go." Mal dances barefoot, in his brown slacks and unbuttoned blue shirt as he watches tv and tries to imitate Mayfield's falsetto. The sort of unguarded, potentially embarrassing behavior one engages in only when they're sure they are alone.
Over the last twelve hours, Nina had been around the world and back: Sidney, Bangcock, Bombay, Paris, Rio, New York, – searching for fun, as well as for uppity demons to put in their place. And now she finds out there's some vampire right in her own backyard who's telling everyone how super-special he is. Someone the demons feared. Well, the demons were only supposed to fear Nina. She had to teach this vampire a lesson.
Mal hears a knock at the door. "That's funny. I didn't order breakfast." He heads over to the door at looks out the peephole. Hot pink hair, tight black pants, leopard skin haltertop. "But I always like gifts," Mal adds before opening the door. The south-facing porch, covered by an awning, makes sure no direct sunlight hits Mal. He smiles at his visitor. Nina pounds his nose with a right jab, sending Mal staggering ten feet backwards. This girl could hit.
"Can I come in?," Nina playfully asks as she steps in and closes the door. "I'm sorry. That only works against your kind." Nina leaps up and pummels Mal's head with a left roundhouse kick. Mal looks her over. Super powers. Major attitude. Sexy, revealing clothes that didn't restrict movement. A palpable hatred for vampires. He knew what she was.
"I didn't think your boss would let you near me." He blocks Nina's left hook. She jumps up off her left foot and nails Mal's chin with a straight right kick, knocking him into the back wall.
"She lets me have my fun." Mal tries a left hook kick. When Nina blocks it, he spins and connects with a left roundhouse kick. She responds with a right roundhouse kick.
"She? I suppose a female Watcher would be better at understanding a Slayer's feelings."
"Slayer!!?," an insulted and furious Nina screams. She picks Mal up and throws him over her shoulder and into the television, which he knocks over and shatters, his butt going through the screen. "Could a Slayer do that!?"
"Perhaps. But none ever has." Mal stands up. "Now the tube I don't mind losing. But don't even think of messing with my tunes."
This room, the largest in the steel, glass and concrete house, is sixty feet long, twenty feet wide and twenty five feet high. At either end, along the east and west walls, are floor-to-ceiling windows. Along the bottom front (south) wall is a ten foot-high concrete wall, with glass above. On the first floor behind this room, going from east to west, are the kitchen, dining room and den. Directly above them are bedrooms and an office. They open out into a ten foot-wide balcony that looks down on the living room. The balcony is fifteen feet above the room and to its north. In the grand room itself, on the east side is the foyer and the front door. Just to the west of the foyer is a sitting room with couches, easy chairs and artwork. Next to this, in the western half of the room, is the entertainment center. The tv is in the center of this area, directly in front of the glass coffee table and large leather couch. The stereo is to the west, between the left speaker and the west wall.
Nina had thrown Mal a good forty feet to the south and west. He walks ten feet towards her. She leaps thirty feet through the air and tries a flying right hook kick. Mal puts his right hand on the bottom of her foot, his left hand on the back of her calf, and hurls her face first into the front wall. Her legs hit the concrete, and her face slams into the glass above it. Nina pushes off with her hands and feet, flies back over Mal, does a back flip and lands ten feet in front of him.
"I apologize," Mal tells Nina. "Ain't no Slayer who could do that."
"I know. But wouldn't you like to see them try?" Mal laughs at Nina's joke about making a Slayer do a face plant into a wall. She pounds him in the jaw with a very fast right roundhouse kick and follows this up with a left hook and right uppercut. Then she throws him through a cabinet. His back slams against the concrete on the south wall. Mal stands there, waiting for her attack. Nina jumps at him like she's going to try another flying kick. Instead, she does a forward round-off, lands right in front of Mal and throws a left jab. Mal ducks. Nina's fist slams into the concrete. Mal goes on the offensive, landing a left cross, right uppercut, left hook and right roundhouse punch to Nina's face, causing her to stagger backwards. She lands a left cross, but Mal blocks her right hook, connects with two right jabs to her face, then a right spin kick, left hook kick and straight right kick to her body, ending the flurry with a left hook kick to Nina's back, knocking her on her face. Mal turns around and casually walks back to the south wall to take a look at the dent Nina left in the concrete.
"Not bad. Say, you ain't a god, are you?" If there was one thing Nina hated worse than being mistaken for a Slayer, it was this. But she decides to keep her cool, at least for now.
"Why would you say that? Do you feel a urge to kneel before me?," Nina asks flirtatiously as she walks towards Mal.
"You're right," Mal responds. "A god would be smart enough to leave me alone." Mal contemptuously turns his back to Nina and looks over at his busted television set. An absolutely livid Nina pounds his back with a right hook kick, sending Mal into the concrete. He puts his hands out to keep his face from hitting the wall. Nina grabs the back of Mal's head and attempts to slam it into wall. But he tightens his neck, and not even she can push it forward.
"You really have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, dead boy," Nina whispers in his right ear. Mal pushes off with his hands, sending his body backwards. At the same time, he hits Nina's face with the back of his head. Mal's free, and he turns to face her.
"Number one, I didn't get myself into anything. You came here. And number two, nobody calls me boy. Certainly not some lonely-ass, trigger-happy white girl who doesn't even know how to dress herself."
"White? I'm sepia, Stevie Wonder!" Nina sends a right hook kick and left roundhouse kick for Mal's face. He ducks under the first and pulls his head back away from the second.
"Sorry. White girl with a tan. Your momma still shoulda taught you how to dress."
"My mother died eons before your were even born." She tries to sweep his left leg with her right. Mal jumps in the air and tries a right hook kick. Nina ducks under it and spins around. When Mal returns to the ground, a left roundhouse kick is eighteen inches from his mouth. He swerves his head to the left, and the kick only grazes his right ear. Mal blocks a right hook and left jab. Nina blocks a left uppercut and right cross. Their arms entangle and Mal pushes her back three feet. "And what's your problem with my clothes? Are you one of those old-fashioned types who throws a hissy-fit if a woman shows her navel?"
"The pants are nice. And they go with the shoes. Prada?"
"They also came with a handbag, but that's just not me." Nina kicks Mal in the chest with her right foot. He doesn't move.
"I can see that you're a woman who does not need a purse. But no woman needs that top. What is the point of getting those nice pants when you're going to ruin it with that ridiculous shirt? And don't even get me started on your hair."
Nina groans. "A gay vampire. They didn't say anything about that." Nina throws a right hook. Mal grabs her right wrist and twists her arm behind her back. To hold her, he has his right arm across her chest and his right hand on the left side of her jaw, so that he's prepared to snap her neck if she tries anything. Nina rolls her eyes. As if that could kill her. Mal holds her for a few seconds while he figures out what she called him. When you know hundreds of languages, sometimes a few of the slang words get lost in the shuffle. He knows it means "happy." But why would she call him that? Then he figures it out, and tosses Nina into the dining room. She slides along the table and lands near the back wall.
"What's up with you!? A guy can't have taste without his manhood being called into question? Not that I ain't had offers. Back in Hellas I had to fight them off. I don't know how many times a man caught me in bed with his wife and got jealous. Of her! Can't deny it was flattering, but that way just didn't do it for me."
Nina leaps forward, does a cartwheel over the table and a flip into the living room. "Sorry. This isn't the first time I've made that mistake. Every guy vampire I meet seems gay. What is it with you creature-of-the-night types?"
"When the viewer keeps seeing things that are not there, the problem lies with her."
"I may have problems," Nina begins before throwing a right cross, left hook, right hook kick and left roundhouse kick. Mal blocks the first punch, ducks under the second, blocks the first kick and ducks the second. "But I am NOT a Slayer!" Nina dodges Mal's left jab and pounds him with a right hook. "And I am certainly not some stupid" – Nina lands a left hook – "insecure" – a second left hook – "pathetic god!" She hits Mal with a third left hook. He responds with an overhand left cross, then ducks under Nina's right hook. Mal lands a right jab, but when he follows it up with a right hook, Nina grabs him right arm, spins Mal around and tosses him into the western glass wall, which is thirty feet to Nina's right. When Mal's back slams into the glass, his feet are ten feet off the ground. The glass cracks, but doesn't shatter. When Mal's feet hit the floor, he looks up at the damage with trepidation. If that window breaks, he's incinerated.
"I think we can work something out," he parlays.
"Begging for your life so soon?," Nina haughtily responds.
"No. I'm trying not to waste my time. Because that is what you are to me. I have no interest in killing you. At least not for a few days. I'm in the middle of something. But what I want to know is, why do you want to kill me?"
"I need a reason?"
Nina and Mal leap into the air. They meet fifteen feet off the ground. They block each other's kick, become entangled and spiral down to the floor, crashing through a credenza that was behind the couch. While they're down, Mal lands three left hooks to her ribs. Nina wraps her lower legs around Mal's neck and tries to snap it. He grabs her knees and prevents her from twisting her legs to perform this maneuver. Then, while still on his knees, Mal picks Nina up, arches him back and slams her face into the floor. Having broke free, he stands up. When Nina tries to rise, Mal sends a right hook kick for her head. She grabs his right ankle with both hands and twists the leg, causing Mal to spiral in mid-air and fall to the ground. When she tries to kick him while he's down, Mal grabs her foot. Nina does a back flip to break free while Mal gets to his feet. He attacks. Nina backs away from his right jab. She blocks his right hook kick and left hook punch. Nina counters with a right hook which causes Mal to take a step back. Nina attacks, launching a leaping left hook kick. It hits the right side of Mal's face and knocks him to his left. He tumbles over the couch and falls face-first into the glass coffee table, shattering it.
"Now that was wrong," Mal announces. Without looking, Mal tosses a large glass shard to his right. Nina leaps up, avoiding the missile and sailing above the couch and above Mal. She lands to his left, and confidently looks down at him. Then she looks down at herself. While she was in mid-air, he tossed three shards into her chest. Mal takes another piece of glass in his left hand and slashes Nina's right achilles' tendon. She goes down and he stands up. "You did well. Real well. But I think it's time YOU start begging for your life. Lucky for you, I am as merciful as I am mighty."
Nina stands up and takes the glass pieces out of her chest. "I don't need your mercy. And I sure as hell don't need your might!" She jumps off her right foot and hits Mal in the chin with a leaping straight left kick. He is sent back into the couch, which tips over. Mal stands up and sees Nina walking towards him. She should be lame by now. This was worrisome. Mal puts his left foot under the left end of the couch and kicks it up, so it's standing on its right end. He then pushes it with his right foot towards Nina. She dodges the seven foot-high obstacle, which slides into the wall, just missing the stereo, to Mal's great relief. That made him think of something.
"This is beginning to get pointless," he tells Nina right before she lands a right cross. "It's obvious we'll destroy this house before we destroy each other."
"And that would be a bad thing, why?," she asks before throwing a straight right kick, which Mal moves his head back away from.
"I don't see how it's a good thing," Mal answers. "And since you can't destroy me -," Mal adds before Nina steps forward tries a right roundhouse kick. Mal leaps upwards and backwards, landing on the balcony. "- why continue trying?"
"Why not? Got nothin' better to do." Nina leaps up onto the balcony railing and looks down at Mal. He hops onto the railing. Balancing their feet on the three foot-high, one inch-wide railing that looms eighteen feet above the living room, they edge towards each and begin sparing, throwing punches and trying to push the other one back down to the first floor. Then they each try several low kicks, attempting to trip up their opponent. Mal and Nina jump up, avoid the other's attack, land back down on the railing and shuffle back-and-forth like fencers. After twenty seconds of this high-wire act, Mal gets bored. He jumps to his right, does a round off and lands on the balcony. Nina leaps over his head, does a flip and lands behind Mal. He turns and hits her with a right roundhouse punch and a left hook. She answers with two quick left jabs and a straight right kick to his chin. Mal ducks her left roundhouse kick and lands a right jab. She blocks his second right jab and sweeps his legs out, knocking Mal down. He rolls backwards and gets up. She lands a vicious right hook kick. When she tries a right uppercut, Mal grabs Nina and tosses her through a wall and into one of the bedrooms. Nina picks up the dresser and throws it at Mal from ten feet away. He moves to the left. The dresser flies over the balcony and smashes on the stone floor downstairs. Mal smiles. He thinks he's gained the upper hand. Nina picks up the dressing couch at the end of the bed and swings it. Mal gets clobbered back into the railing. Nina leaps at him. He grabs her. A portion of the balcony breaks loose and they fall back down into the living room, all the while maneuvering in mid-air for advantage.
Nina lands on top of Mal. She takes a wooden stake in her right hand. Mal grabs it at tosses it along the floor to his left. Nina pins Mal's arms behind his head. Mal goes bumpy. Nina looks surprised. "You really are the walrus," she jokes, commenting on his oversized fangs. Mal turns his head and bites clean through Nina's right forearm. He nearly rips the lower half of her arm clean off. Nina shrieks and hits Mal twice in the right eye with her left fist. Now that she's let go of his arms, he'll let go of hers. Mal returns to his human face and reaches his right hand up toward her neck. Nina arches up out of his reach. She puts both hands on his chest and slams his back down to the ground. Mal has his mouth closed. He's running his tongue across his teeth, trying to figure out what Nina tasted like. He can't. But he does know what she felt like.
"So soft. Like meringue. And yet you are so strong. No pulse. And yet you are warm. I hate to kill something before I know what it is."
"You couldn't kill me if you wanted to. But you so obviously don't. Which is completely pathetic for your kind. Then again, your kind is completely pathetic to begin with." As Nina continues to hold Mal to the ground, she notices something odd. "The other undead guys didn't feel like this. Neither did the live ones." She runs her hands down his ten-pack abs, more curious than turned-on. "Like it's carved out of rock." She stops above his belt-line, putting her left hand on his unbeating heart and her right hand around his neck. She tries to squeeze it, but can't get very far. Meanwhile, she has trouble getting her left hand underneath his skin. An alarmed Mal grabs her left hand with both of his and pulls it up. However, he allows her to continue her fruitless attempt to throttle him.
"I don't breath," he jokes. She puts both hands around his neck.
"But you do need a spine. Which means, if I crush it, you die."
"Tell me how that goes," Mal blithely responds. To show that she isn't even cutting off his air passage, he sings with the song playing on the stereo: "Cat-calling, love-balling; fussing and a-cussing. Top feeling now is killing; for peace no one is willing. Kinda make you get that feeling - "
Nina lets go of Mal's neck and slaps his face with her right hand. "Shut up. I was trying to think." Mal laughs.
"I thought you were trying kill me."
"What's the point? You're already dead." She looks at her palms. "What is this? Is this sweat. You sweat?"
"I have to stay cool somehow. And it definitely beats panting. You don't sweat?," he asks before reaching his right hand up towards her face. She angrily slaps it away. Mal finds this grossly hypocritical. "If you don't like me, you can get off me any time you want."
"And lose the tactical advantage? Stop trying to make this something it's not." Mal reaches both hands up and rips off Nina's shirt. "Hey!!!," she screams before landing a left jab to his nose. Mal blocks her right cross, then grips both of her wrists so she can't punch him again. Nina struggles to break her arms free.
"I told you I didn't like that shirt," he says to her with a chuckle, laughing as this invincible wonder-woman struggles. After ten seconds she breaks free, looking furious. She puts her hands on his forehead, her thumbs prepared to gouge his eyes out. Then she looks into them. She can see the red glow. "Gross. He's gone bumpy," she thinks to herself. Then she glances down at his mouth. He's still human. She looks back into his eyes. She still sees the glow. They're not vacant and empty like the eyes of other vampires. There must be some sort of spark in him. Plus, he was handsome and had the most amazing bod she'd even laid her hands on. Considering how Nina had been around since practically the beginning of time, that was saying a lot. Plus, it isn't like she has anything, or anyone, better to do. Nina leans down and kisses Mal on the lips. He wraps his arms around her. She rips off his pants. Mal rolls over so he's on top. Nina flips Mal over her head so he lands on his back, his feet facing the opposite direction they were before. Nina, puts her hands behind her had, arches her back, pushes off with her feet and flips herself backwards. Her legs travel 180 degrees through the air, and she lands back on top of him. "I knew there was some way we could both win," Mal says as he looks up into her eyes. They both smile. For now, he could care less about Angel and Connor.
"It would appear that Anya was correct," Giles tells the group back at Buffy's house.
"About what in particular?," Anya asks. "Seeing how I'm right about a great many things."
"Nina," Giles responds. "To the best of what I can determine, she is a Titan. As was her brother. Seth and Nina. Also know as Set and Nanna. Also referred to as Sot and Na-an. They're mentioned a number of times in sources from other dimensions."
"We have those?," Xander asks.
"The Council did." He puts the books on the table. "According to the texts, Titans worshipped forms. Ideals. Perfect good, perfect evil, perfect beauty, perfect love, pain, sorrow, ecstasy, and so on. The Titans were fiercely iconoclastic. They believed that any being which took on physical form could not be a god, now matter how powerful the being was. For this, the divinities destroyed their world and obliterated their species."
"As religious persecution goes, that kind of takes the cake," Willow concedes.
"Persecution is when you're killed by followers of a god," Anya explains. "Without the god's help. I'm not sure what it's called when you're done in by the actual god."
Giles continues. "For whatever reason, one of the Forms – in this case the First Evil – chose to rescue Seth and his older sister Nina. They're the First's reserves, their most elite shock troops, – "
"Their relief pitchers," Xander interrupts, trying to find a better metaphor. "Seth's the set-up man, and Nina's the closer." He looks around in vain to find another baseball fan.
"Whatever," a confused Giles replies, since cricket offers no helpful parallels. "They've spent the rest of history going from dimension to dimension, doing the First's bidding. And, from what I can tell, they are extraordinarily successful at their work."
"Meaning?," Buffy asks.
"There is no record of them ever losing."
"Can't they be killed like the rest of their people were?," Buffy asks in reply.
"Yes."
"How were their people killed?," Willow wonders.
"They were torn limb-from-limb."
"We can do that," Buffy declares with optimism. "Sure, we've done a lot more staking, and beheading, and even exploding. But we can try some tearing."
"Actually, they were eaten," Anya adds, correcting Giles. He looks at her.
"Where did you hear that?"
"From other demons. The legend is the Titans were torn limb-from-limb and ingested. That way, their bodies couldn't be reconstituted." Everyone looks worried. And a little nauseous.
"We have to eat our enemy?," Xander asks.
"I don't know if we have to, but that's the only way it's ever been done," Anya responds.
"That's sick," Faith comments. "I'm not sinking my teeth into my enemy."
"We know someone here who's done that," Xander announces. Everyone looks at Spike.
"Hey. Back off. I'm strictly liquids. I don't go for flesh. And no bloody way I could eat an entire body even if my life and the whole blooding planet depended on it. You're gonna have to find someone else for that job."
"Dammit!," Xander blurts out. "Where's Oz when we really need him?"