[EPISODE 4: THE BEDAZZLED BIMBO]
With a furious spray of red, Xander's knife slashed across the throat of the final angel. The body hit the ground, where it lay among five of its already-deceased brethren. Blood pooled in patches here and there, staining the concrete. Such a sight was brutal and painful to the eye, but it was the only sight Xander had ever known.
He was born into the battlefield, it was his intention to eventually die on the battlefield.
"Wow," Said a familiar voice behind him. "This seems like a rather violent method of venting one's anger, doesn't it?"
Xander turned around. He wasn't sure how long Smythe had been there, but he sure hoped she hadn't seen the worst of the battle.
"They attacked me first." He sheathed his knives, "It isn't my fault Heaven keeps picking on me."