Logan had an odd fighting style. Slayers were fast and strong, they could afford to be direct and they could afford to let their opponents see them coming. Logan took that and went farther. A lot farther. He didn't ever block a blow, he just let it come. The only time he dodged was to deliver a blow, and the only time he countered was to open up the opponent for something else. Normal people couldn't afford to fight like that, it was a good way to end up a punching bag and then in the hospital. In a fight without rules, general wisdom dictated that you avoided taking punishment while dealing as much as possible out. Instead, Logan just took it and dealt twice as much. Punches didn't even slow him down, the impact was simply absorbed and ignored regardless of bruising, bone and blood. More than one attacker fell back, as if dealing the blow cost them ten times as much as it cost Logan to take it.
Combined with Logan's complete disregard for subtlety, the result was more like a massacre than a brawl. Though the claws were gone and the berserker rage had cooled, Logan's solution was now to beat every attacker into a pulp. Humans were tossed to one side (they were starting to pile up) and vampires to Buffy, who was better equipped to deal with things like "aim."
Logan knocked a grown man back five feet with a front thrust kick that probably would have gone through his chest if he hadn't been lucky enough to fall, then looked over at Buffy. His eyes were just dim glints under the hairy eyebrows. "Steak," he grunted.
The room was, miraculously, almost clear. Logan's attackers were now either dust or in the groaning pile of broken limbs and bruises behind him. Logan's eyes twitched to just over Buffy's shoulder in warning. It looked as if the bartender Logan had "killed" had been already dead.