"Isn't it good to be home?," Mal asks Angel. "I think I'll go tell your friends." Angel grabs Mal and tries to throw him. Mal pushes Angel's hands away. "Where is Telemachus? Here should be here to greet his father, to celebrate his return. I know! Eurybades hasn't told Telemachus of your return." Mal looks at Angel from ten feet away. Angel is still recovering from re-entry. "Do you ever think about Penelope? Do you ever wonder if the woman you love would wait twenty years for you? Would forsake the touch of another man for two decades on the slim hope that one day you would return? I think that deep down all men wonder if they have a Penelope. And if they know that they do not, they can never achieve true contentment."

"So that's why you do it," Angel responds. "That's why you make your slaves build all those little worlds. To compensate."

"No. I need something to pass the time. It takes a lot to stave off the boredom at my age. And, for the record, I have had my Penelope. Several, actually."

"But you can't love them. You can't love anything but yourself. Even if they love you, it doesn't count if you don't love them back, now does it?"

"You don't need a soul to love."

"Perhaps a creature without a soul could be capable of loving another. But not you. You're empty inside."

"He may kill me, but at least he won't be happy.' Is that your consolation?"

"No. My consolation will be looking at your face the moment before you turn to dust."

"Then you'll never be consoled. Too bad." Angel has regained enough of his strength to try to escape. But he senses that the two of them are not alone. Four large demons appear. One from every direction. Their skin is yellowish-brown. They have large claws and teeth, as well as an arc of small gray horns across the tops of their foreheads. The one in front of Angel looks at him with his orange and black eyes.

"I knew he was working for you!." The demon points at Mal, who stands to the right of Angel. "Is that the new vampire with a soul?"

"Okay fellas," Angel gingerly replies. "Let's settle down. I think you are mistaken. On multiple levels." Confusing Mal and Spike was absolutely off-the-charts so far as Angel was concerned. "This vampire does not have a soul. And he's definitely not working for me."

"Do you like the shirt I picked out for you?," Mal mischievously asks Angel. The demons close to within six feet of them. Mal puts his left arm around Angel's shoulders. "Angel. Buddy. I'd love to stay and help you kill this wretched demon scum. But I have a date." Mal leaps high in the air and lands in the driver's seat of his gray Porsche convertible, forty feet to Angel's right. He starts the engine and floors it, speeding away. Then he struggles with upshifting out of first, then second, gear. He's not used to driving a stick. But Mal fitfully lurches away, James Brown's "Superbad" blasting out of the speakers. Angel just shakes his head at his bad luck. The demons retract their claws. Finally, some good news.

"We know these won't kill you." The demon knocks Angel down to his knees with a right hook. He holds a wooden stake in his left hand. "But this will."

"Why does this day keep getting worse?," Angel asks himself. Getting killed for his mortal enemy's demon slaying – it didn't get much lower than that. The demons never feared or hated him this much before Mal came. What a blow to a champion's dignity. The demon slaps him with his left hand.

"Your friend killed my family," the one in front of him says.

"He force-fed me my sons' entrails!," the one on his left screams in his ear before punching him twice in the side of his head. The demons behind Angel and to his right grab his arms. Angel thinks about that last complaint. It's both impressive and deeply ominous. The demon in front of him grabs Angel's hair and turns his head upwards, so he's looking in the demon's eyes.

"Any last words, vampire?"

Angel goes bumpy. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry he let you live." The demon plunges the stake downwards. Angel sticks his neck out and grabs it between his teeth. He hops onto his feet and kicks the demon in the stomach. Then he swings his right foot around and nails the demon to his left in the head. "I know I wouldn't have." The other two demons let go of Angel's arms and start punching Angel in the back, pounding him into the ground.

Lorne drives Angel's car with the top down. Connor rides shotgun. Cordy sits up front in the middle. Fred's in the middle of the back seat, with Wesley to her left and Gunn to her right. "She did it," a smiling Connor blurts out. "She did it! We were lost, and helpless. And then she did it."

"Dawn did not DO anything," Cordelia reminds the lovesick boy.

"If it wasn't for Dawn, we'd still be back at the hotel, doing nothing," Connor responds.

"Are you sure it's the same spot?," Lorne asks.

"Dawn's sure," Connor replies.

"And she told you Angel was in great peril?," Wesley queries.

"Did she see who what was attacking him?," Gunn adds.

"She just saw their arms," Connor answers. "They didn't have claws are armor or anything special. But one of them held a stake."

"I was usually able to pick out a face," Cordy snipes. She knows the disparagement is uncalled for, but she and the others can only take so much of Connor's Dawny-To-The-Rescue delusion. Lorne floors the gas pedal and runs two red lights.

Angel stands up. He grabs the demon to his right and tosses him into the demon to his left. They both fall down. Angel nails the demon behind him with a left back kick and the demon in front of him with a right hook. Then he turns and knocks the demon behind him on his back with a right hook kick. Angel turns left, knocks one demon back with a left cross and the other one down with a right uppercut. But the lead demon hits the right side of his face with a left hook and pounds his chin with a right uppercut. Angel tries a right cross, but the demon blocks this with his left arm, pounds Angel's stomach with a right uppercut and knocks him on his back with a left roundhouse kick. Two of the demons grab his arms. The other demon picks up the stake and tosses it to their leader who takes it in his right hand. Angel kicks to keep him away. The demon brings his right foot down on Angel's right knee. It's a big foot – size 20 triple E, if this species wore sneakers – and the stomp hurts severely. The demon gets down on his left knee and raises his right arm. He puts his left hand around Angel's neck and pins his head to the ground.

"No wonder you've been too scared to show your face," the demon tells Angel before bringing the stake down. The third demon holds down his legs. There is nothing Angel can do. Then, when the stake is six inches above his heart, a crossbow bolt penetrates the demon's right hand and knocks the stake away. The demon screams and looks at the projectile lodged in his palm. "Arrrggghhh," he bellows as his slams his right palm onto Angel's chest in frustration. Angel's sigh of relief turns into a gulp of trepidation. Fortunately, the arrow's point stopped when it hit his sternum. And as the demon drives his palm down, it moves down the bolt's shaft. When the demon stands up. The bolt is out of his hand. The other demons turn to face the ambush. Angel's grateful for their stupidity. After all, the demon could have ripped the bolt out of his hand and stabbed it into Angel's heart. Fortunately, that never occurred to them.

Angel looks out and sees his car, his friends and his son. Cordy's crossbow lacks an arrow, indicating she was the one who fired over the windshield just as they arrived, thereby saving Angel's hide. He's grateful, though he wishes she had fired when the demon's hand wasn't so close to his chest. A twitch before firing, and she puts the bolt into Angel. The gang sees their boss, and are momentarily exuberant. Wesley charges the demon to Angel's right. Gunn hobbles to back him up. The demon sees his new enemies. But mostly he sees the high beams behind them. Lorne just wanted to increase visibility. He didn't know these guys were light sensitive. Wes pounds the startled demon three times with a baseball bat. He swings his right fist. Wes ducks. Gunn moves in, swings his ax and beheads the creature. Fred fires her crossbow at the demon to Angel's left. The arrow goes into his right eye. The demon yelps in pain. Angel stands up and snaps his neck. Meanwhile, Connor takes on the demon in front of Angel, the one who tried to stake him. Connor ducks under a right hook and responds with a left jab and right cross. He blocks the demon's left hook and snaps his wrist back. The demon howls out and lands a right jab to Connor's chest, knocking him back a step. Connor leaps at the creature and knocks it on its back with a quick and devastating flying right hook kick. Connor puts his right hand around the bewildered demon's throat.

"I wonder when my lover's gonna send me after something tough." The demon grabs Connor's right wrist with his right hand – his one good hand. Connor breaks his right thumb with his left hand, then snaps the demon's neck.

After Angel killed the demon Fred shot, the fourth demon came up behind him and pounded Angel's face with a right hook. Angel turns and responds in kind. It lands a powerful left cross to Angel's jaw. He counters with two left jabs, ducks the demon's neck right punch and kicks the demon in the chest with a right hook kick. The demon staggers backwards. Gunn swings his ax at it from the right. The demon ducks and sweeps Gunn's legs out. Wes strikes it in the back with his bat. The demon downs him with a backwards right-handed swat. Angel lands a straight right kick to the demon's mouth. But it blocks Angel's jab and pushes him to the ground. Angel quickly gets up, but before he can resume his attack, Connor's kicked the demon with a leaping left hook kick. The demon staggers and circles leftwards as Angel and Connor approach. It starts to laugh, weakly and fatalistically.

"You're lucky to be on his side," he says to Angel and Connor. "Otherwise," the weary demon pauses to chuckle a few times, "you better hope for a quick death." Angel steps forward, blocks the demon's final right hook, reaches out and snaps its neck. The fourth and final demon corpse falls to the ground. Angel turns to Connor and hugs him tight.

"You don't know how happy I am to see you." Connor feels a tad smothered, and is about to push Angel away when he lets go and looks at Wes, Gunn, Cordy and Fred, who are walking towards him. Angel spreads his arms out and pulls all four of them close. Fred finds her face against Angel's bare chest, which is new for her, and more than a little awkward.

"You made it. You survived him. Are you hurt?" Angel lets go. The gang recovers from the embrace and gets a good look at Angel.

"You aren't," Connor responds.

"Not a scratch on you," Wesley observes. They all look a little disappointed.

"You guys are hurt. Not too bad I hope. And, Wesley, you shaved. It's a good look. I like it."

"Tell it to Mal. He's the one who did it."

"Who's Mal?," Angel asks. They all look incredibly surprised.

"You two haven't even met?," Cordy asks.

Angel thinks for a few seconds. "Is that what he calls himself? The vampire? Black guy? Real long in the tooth, but doesn't look a day over thirty?"

"So you have met," Fred responds. "Obviously it didn't go so bad. Why are you all wet?"

"He hurt me. A lot. Him. And his demons. Dozens of them. With their weapons, and teeth, and feelers. But then he tossed me in this vat of boiling water that healed me. The wounds are gone. On the surface, at least. But I can still feel them inside." Angel staggers towards his car and notices no one's helping him. "It was torture. I swear. I fought like hell to get out of there. Worst twelve hours of my life."

"Twelve hours," Cordy parrots.

"That's all?," Connor asks.

Angel figures out there was some sort of time difference. "How long have I been gone?"

"Four days," Gunn replies. Angel's mildly relieved. He's glad it wasn't a week. Or a month.

"You have to tell me what's happened," Angel says as Cordy and Fred help him towards the car. "What has he done? I know he fought you all of you. He mentioned that. He sounded impressed. Said you were all very brave. Worthy opponents."

"Did he say who he thought was the bravest?," Cordy asks. Angel knows the answer is Gunn and Cordelia, as well as Connor, but he won't answer, lest he alienate Fred and Wes.

"All of you. He said I was lucky to have friends like you. And to have a son as strong and tough as Connor. Which, on the down side, makes it more fun for him to kill us. What do you know about this guy?"

Wesley goes through the basics. "Thirty five hundred years old. The greatest vampire on record. Killer of twenty Slayers. Two of whom he killed while blind-folded, though I doubt the veracity of that story."

"I don't," Angel responds.

"Evidently you are aware of Mal's prowess. However - "

"Trust me. He did it. Just trust me." Angel eases himself into the front passenger's seat. "Have I mentioned that I hate this guy more than anyone else in my entire life?"

"Motivation's always helpful," Lorne replies.

"And as soon as we're healthy, his days are numbered." Lorne starts the motor. Cordy sits next to Angel. Wes, Fred and Gunn sit in back.

"Connor, aren't you coming home with us?," a concerned Angel asks.

"There's no room for me. I'll walk."

Spike, Buffy, Faith and Giles walk through a cemetery. On a ridge five hundred feet behind them stands Nina. She's wearing a shiny black leather jumpsuit instead of her tradition dull navy blue suit. Her hair is much shorter. While before it went down nearly to her waist, now it extends just six inches below her shoulders. Also, she's dyed it bright red. Mal sneaks up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist. At first she gasps, but then Nina laughs.

"How's my baby doll?," Mal asks.

"You surprised me. I should have heard you coming."

"You probably were too busy listening to those people."

"Are you kidding?," Nina responds. "I can't hear them from this far away." Mal rests his head on her right shoulder and looks down at Buffy and company. He and Nina make an interesting pair to look at. She, of course, would stand out anywhere. But Mal is far less striking. He's only an inch taller than her. His body isn't much to look at, at least when he's dressed. His face may be handsome, but unlike Nina's it's never going to stop traffic. Dressed in a sweat suit, he looks like a guy out for an evening jog. He blends in as easily as Nina sticks out. At least until he bares his fangs.

"You changed you hair."

"You like?"

"Let me see." He turns her around so they stand face-to-face "I love."

"Good. Because I did it for you. Blood Red. To match your eyes." Mal is genuinely touched by this gesture. He turns Nina around and hugs her tight from behind. She smiles, happily sighs and reaches her right hand back, rubbing the hair on top of Mal's head. Mal smiles, goes bumpy and bites the right side of her neck. She moans. He bites the left side of her neck with his lower jaw while his fangs are more than halfway across the other side of her neck. It's like he could devour it in one bite. For a Titan, whose nerve endings can sense pleasure instead of pain, depending on the intent, this feels like the world's greatest hickey. When Mal finishes, he removes his teeth and returns to his human face. Mal lies down on the grass, and Nina sits to his left. They kiss for a little while. Then he looks at Buffy.

"Are those your targets?"

"Yeah."

"I assume the old man is the reporter."

"No. He's what they call a Watcher.

"I know. They watch me kill a Slayer. Then they report on how I did it. Which is why I call them reporters."

"So Mal, how does your vampire compare to mine?"

"This vampire is emotional, unreliable and easily wounded romantically by women."

"How do you know so much about Spike?"

"Look at his hair. He dyes it yellow. Like that Slayer next to him. But it means something very different when done by a man. Did you call him Spike?"

"That's what they call him."

"Spike was Candace's name for her favorite stake. Odd for a vampire to choose the name of a Slayer's tool."

"Maybe that's because he is a Slayer's tool. But he hasn't always been a lackey. Before Buffy, he killed two Slayers."

"Him and a hundred other vampires. No one even bothers to notice until you've killed three. Only twelve have done that. Three is the divide between the warriors and those who got lucky. Is Buffy what you call the yellow-haired Slayer?"

"It's her name."

"Her real name?"

"Fraid so."

"Odd for a woman of such immense prowess to have been given such a silly name."

"I see you still have a thing for Slayers."

"One Slayer. One woman who happened to be a Slayer. And I would have wanted her even if she wasn't. This one is too tiny. And I don't like her hair. But she has the light. A torch of greatness burns inside her. Maybe one Slayer every century has the light. After a while, they were the only ones I even bothered killing."

"You don't know what you're talking about. Buffy is the spectator. Faith's the one I need."

"My senses are superior to yours. You know that."

"I don't care if you can see under her skin. There's no flame inside that body."

"Not an actual one. But I can see greatness. And Buffy has the torch. So does Angel. But that other Slayer, and this other vampire, they do not. She needs a better name. She really does. But whatever you want to call her, the one with the yellow hair is the only one who matters. Kill her, and the others will crumble."

"If she's so special – which, I'm not sure she is – wouldn't it be more fun to kill everyone else and make her watch?"

"It's just as fun to make them watch her die. And far easier. You can't turn your back on that one. If you do, she'll surprise you. It's in her nature. You cannot give the great ones that chance."

"You really think Buffy's great?"

"Except for the trifling name."

"Don't you think I'm greater?"

"Many, many, many times greater. And a million times more attractive." Mal runs his right hand up her left leg. They kiss and grope for a little while. Then Mal sits up.

"What now?," Nina asks. "They can't hear us."

"But I can hear them. And they are talking about you."

"Really? What are they saying?"

"Buffy thinks you dress like a tramp."

"That little bitch! Wait. Are you making this up?"

"The Watcher knows what you are. And who you are."

"About freaking time. I practically had to lay out my whole life story to make them figure it out."

"He believes he knows how to kill you. No. They know how to kill your kind."

"Big deal. Your enemies know how to kill you. Always have. But you're still around."

"Knowing and doing are two very different things."

"Between thought and expression lies a lifetime."

"Did you come up with that?," Mal asks Nina.

"It's from one of the poets around here. You like it?"

"Yes. Strangely. Since I'm no fan of poetry unless it's set to music."

"All of his are. Here's one I like," Nina says before launching into song. "If you close the door, the night can last forever. Leave the sunshine out, and say hello to never. Oh the people are dancing and they're having such fun; I wish that could happen to me. But if you close the door, I'll never have to see the day again."

"Not bad."

"The song, or my singing?"

"The song. Your singing was great." Nina smiles and they canoodle for a bit more in the grass. "I'll never have to see the day again.' Was that written by a vampire?"

"I'm pretty sure it wasn't. But he dressed a little like Spike. Always in black. But he's way cooler than Spike, of course." Granted, even Spike would have a hard time objecting to being called less cool than Lou Reed.

While Nina was singing, Spike's head darted from side to side. "Someone's watching us." He looks around, anxiously trying to spot the voyeur.

"You really think Nina is spying on us?," Giles asks. "That doesn't seem like her style."

"What is it?," Buffy asks Spike. "Can you hear something? Smell someone?"

"I think I heard noises. I'm not sure. But I have bloody strong feeling we're being watched."

"So you're paranoid," a skeptical Faith concludes.

"There are people out to get us," Spike replies.

"True," Giles responds. "But they don't make a habit of lurking in the shadows." Giles does take a few good looks around, more to try to spot Mal than Nina. Meanwhile, she begins to wonder how Mal can pick up so much from 500 feet away.

"I still can't believe you can hear them from here. To say nothing of spotting Spike's and Buffy's dark roots. I didn't know vampires had really good sight on top of everything else."

"They don't. I do. And both senses become better over time. Probably because of all the blood I drink."

"When did you give up sleep?"

"I haven't slept for one thousand years. But it started a thousand years before that. First I slept every second night. Then every third. Then once a week. Then one day every month. Eventually, I couldn't get to sleep even if I wanted to."

"Do you?"

"Sometimes, when I'm bored. But certainly not with you around." They resume fooling around, but Nina still has some questions.

"What are they talking about now? Is it me?"

"Sorry. They wonder when the vampires will rise. They don't even know they are at the wrong grave. I can hear four vampires beginning to stir beneath the soil. One of them is pounding the lid of his coffin. They won't see him emerge. Watch." Nina and Mal hold hands as they observe. Nina snuggles up to Mal. Within a few seconds, a vampire crawls out of the ground one hundred feet behind Buffy and company. They hear his footsteps coming towards them, and turn to see their first kill of the night. He charges. Buffy, Faith and Spike do likewise. Giles keeps an eye out for any surprises.

"So this is what Slayers do?," Nina asks. "Bore-ring."

"Such foolishness," Mal exclaims. "Where are his survival instincts? If he ran away, he very well could have escaped. But no. He attacks! Outnumbered, and he attacks."

"Isn't he hungry?," Nina asks.

"Victims don't walk around graveyards at night. Hunters do. And they weren't afraid when he attacked. That should be a signal that these are definitely not easy prey. The sad thing is, experienced vampires make the same mistakes. Everyone thinks you set an ambush by taking a hostage back to your lair and waiting for the target to show. But that gives the advantage of surprise back to your enemy. What you do is stash the hostage at your lair, go outside and wait along the enemy's approach route. Then you jump them when they least expect it."

"Quiet," Nina says as she puts her left hand under his shirt and rubs Mal's chest. "I'm trying to watch."

"You watch with your ears and your mouth?"

"It's distracting. I'm watching them. And I'm feeling and smelling you. That's a lot to take in at once."

"It's not a fight, darling. It's an execution. They should have brought their friends. Built a grandstand. At least with the Romans, there was always a chance the condemned wouldn't die right away. Sometimes the lions lost their appetite. It's a pity the next vampire hasn't already risen. He could have gotten away while they were finishing their first kill."

"There's another?," Nina asks excitedly. She wants to see her enemies fight, and values the chance to see Slayers in their work environment.

"Three more. Two have yet to awake, though I can hear their limbs twitching. That always happens before they're fully conscious. But the one they were waiting for, he's broken through his coffin. Now that the other vampire is dead, his enemies are free to focus on the unfortunate fellow. It's a man. I can tell because they are always erect when they wake. Most of the time, it goes down within a few seconds. His hasn't yet. That much hurt as he climbs up. It's slowing him down. Now it's retreating. He resumes the struggle to surface." As Mal gives his play-by-play, Buffy and the others stroll around, looking at the remaining fresh graves. They don't see anything, since there's nothing to see.

"This is bull!," Nina yells out as she playfully punches Mal's left shoulder. "You're putting me on! You've been putting me on this whole time."

"Nonsense. Buffy said you dressed like a tramp. I never would."

"You were pretty critical yesterday."

"That had to do with color coordination, not how revealing your outfit was. I had no problem with how much skin you showed. Only with what you were covering the rest of your skin with. Look! A hand. A right hand. They haven't noticed yet. They probably will when his head comes up right . . . now!" Mal timed it perfectly. "Buffy noticed first. The vampire should have. I'm sure Angel would have." At least Angel would like this aspect of Mal.

"Angel?," Nina asks with a laugh. "And you think Buffy's a silly name?"

"I know," Mal concedes. "If he names himself Angel, and he cannot fly, he should at least be able to sing. Actually, I don't know if he can sing. I didn't try make him. I'm sure, he would have refused, no matter how badly I beat him. He's extraordinarily stubborn. And taciturn. Like his son."

"Does his son have the light?," Nina asks.

"Yes. His is very bright. But it flickers. So it's not always there. I have never seen anyone like that. As if his Creator cannot decide if he should even exist. Very strange. Though not as strange as two Slayers."

Nina doesn't buy this. "Two Slayers is easy to explain. Vampire having a baby, that's impossible."

"Drain them, snap their neck, chop their head off. It's not so hard. They're already dead. You've done the hard part. Now comes the payoff. But someone didn't bother. Someone so stupid that it's a miracle he could even walk, let alone kill a Slayer. Miracles I understand. Negligence on this scale I cannot."

"Wow!," Nina exclaims. "The old guy punched him. Did you see that? I like him so much better than the vampire."

"He doesn't care for the vampire that much either," Mal responds. "He cares for Buffy. About the other Slayer he is indifferent. Watchers feel an urge to protect their Slayers, even though they cannot. He feels the urge to protect that one. I think he is jealous of the vampire."

"Why?," an intrigued Nina asks. "You think she's really taking it from Spike? And the Watcher wants a piece! That's disgusting. Isn't it?" She's not entirely certain about human mating habits.

"It would be. But that's not how he feels about her."

"Spike?"

"The Watcher. He doesn't trust Spike. The Buffy girl does. She cares about him. You can see it when they are fighting. Even when they're not. She looks at him more than she looks at the other two put together. And he only looks at her."

"So they are doing it?"

"She hasn't. Not for quite a while."

"How the hell do you know that? Please tell me it's not smell. Cause that's just, eww."

"Her walk. You can tell from a person's walk. If you know what to look for. It's about reading attitude. Mojo, as they call it. The other Slayer's had intercourse rather recently. The Watcher hasn't. But he expects to quite soon. Men can reveal expectation when they walk."

"I wonder who the lucky woman is?," Nina asks herself, running through her mind all the people in Buffy's house. Only Anya seemed to fit the bill. Lucky her, Nina thinks Then Nina gets back to the Slayers. "So you think Buffy's the uptight one?"

"I hope not. For her own sake. The great ones always a strong animal side. Can't be great without plenty of passion and ferocity."

"So she wants to get wild with Spike?"

"Or someone worthier. Most of the great Slayers never find someone worthy. That sort of talent is rare."

"Tell me about it," Nina responds as she kisses Mal's neck. "So do I walk different? Have you been walking different?"

"Completely," Mal responds. He kisses her. Then he stands up and grabs his bow. Nina's upset.

"You brought that on our date?"

"It fit in the car. And you never know when it can be useful."

"You better not shoot any of them."

"Too easy. I'm aiming for a vampire."

"Spike? But I want to rip his guts out. Especially if Buffy cares about him."

"No. A vampire who hasn't risen." Mal looks at the two fresh graves. Buffy and Faith stand around one, blocking his shot. The other grave is 150 feet away from them and 600 feet from Mal. He guesses which direct the head is facing. He takes into account the fact that he's shooting downward, calculates the angle of entry and guesses how deep the body is buried, thereby figuring out where to aim. Mal pulls his arrow back, waits a few seconds, then fires. It whizzes through the air and plunges into the dirt, completely disappearing beneath the surface, like it was swallowed up. A small puff of dust rises up from the ground. Mal knows he's hit the mark. "Impressed?"

"Mildly," Nina coolly responds.

Spike and all the others heard the arrow whizzing by, but they couldn't see anyone. And they couldn't spot any projectile on the ground. So they conclude it must have been a bird or a plane or something like that. Giles scans the surroundings, but Nina and Mal are not well lit, and he can't spot them, especially from so far away. "So I can't kill either Slayer?," he asks Nina.

"That would be tampering. I can't let outsiders interfere."

"One isn't worth the effort. But it would be fun to kill two at once."

"Don't even think about it."

"How about the vampire? Can I at least rip his head off?"

"Technically, yes you can. He's neither a Slayer nor a Potential Slayer. But, if you did that here, Buffy would attack you, you'd have to fight her, and that would be tampering."

"If I knew there were two, I would have come three nights ago, which was one night before you arrived. After killing them, I would have given Faith's body to Louis and Victor so they could have a taste. Then I would have drained Buffy's blood and fed it to my vampire while he was in the arena. That would have boosted his strength." Mal has no idea how diabolical that would have been. Still, he would like to have some practice to warm up for tomorrow night. "I can't even beat both Slayers up? Put a scare into them?"

"No, because that would help me by weakening them."

"Can I at least kill some people in town? I'm starving. And it would confuse the Slayers. Throw them off your trail."

"Sure. All you can eat. Outsiders aren't my concern."

Mal smiles. "Perfect. See you in a bit?"

"Don't keep me waiting."

"I'm a fast eater." Nina stands up, gives Mal a big goodbye kiss, then disappears. Mal takes another look at Buffy. He's tempted. But he respects Nina too much to disobey her. After all, how would he feel if Nina pounded on Angel and Connor?

Back at home, Angel had a few big cups of blood as he told Wes, Gunn, Fred, Cordy and Lorne about his time abroad. They told Angel what Mal had accomplished in his absence. When the blood had made Angel feel a little rejuvenated, he went upstairs to find Connor. Angel wanted to let his son know that this was exactly the wrong time for Connor to return to acting surly.