A.N. Well I used to write for this site back in 2006, taken a six year Sabbatical, hope you don't mind. My Fiancee said that seeing as I'm turning 23 soon that I should probably focus more on my passions, like writing, so here you go. Please read and Review as I want to gauge the audience reaction, it helps me to know I'm on the right track, or not. So help me out, yeah?
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The water cascaded off her body in waves. The heat was scalding, turning her skin from bronze into rubies, the steam clearing her throat of the London traffic smog. She watched as the blood of the two innocents she had saved swirled down the plug hole, washing away the nights events thus far. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt so alive. Her previous Watchers had told her of the true fight. The one between Slayer and Vampire. It was so much better than they had described, than she had ever felt taking the head off a practice target.
She thought about her destiny, as she lathered soap over her muscles, she had heard the stories a thousand times. She had, after all, been the one the Council was expecting to be next in line. Well the council was gone, along with her last Watcher, Emily. A fine example of the female physique. The Potential in her blood had bloomed, she had declined an offer to travel to America in the wake of an epic battle, because Emily had begged her to stay with her, if only she had begged her to stay away from the Council Offices that morning.
No, she shook the memory from her head, causing shampoo to sting her eyes. She convinced herself that the tears that followed were a result of that, though the aching in her heart, and the bile in her throat proclaimed otherwise. She was ashamed to admit that she, Kennedy Eleanor Prescott, had been in love. Was still in love, despite the fact that her lover was nothing but ash and bone under a pile of rubble. It went against everything she had ever believed in, love was for other people, she had always had such focus and drive when it came to her training, that all those couples sat on picnic blankets in Covent Gardens had seemed so idiotic.
She rinsed the soap from her body and the shampoo from her hair and stepped out of the shower. Her pain, she tried to tell herself, washed down the drain with the suds. She wrapped a towel around her hair and wiped the condensation from the mirror. The brown puffy eyes she saw staring back at her were quite unnerving. She never cried. When her Mother had died, she had told herself 'That's Life', just like her Father. When her Father remarried to the worst possible kind of woman, she kept the same motto. When said woman birthed the most vile of infants, she had maintained her mantra. And when the time came to leave, in a fight over her sexuality that had hospitalised her for three tedious days, she picked herself up and carried on. She was a survivor, down to the last fiber of her being. So why on earth was she crying now, over a woman she had known but six months?
She toweled off her brunette locks and walked, totally naked into her bedroom, a modest flat, to say that her Father was one of the wealthiest lawyers in London city. However, when you kill mythical creatures for a living, and Daddy has well and truly cut you off, you can't afford to be picky... Literally. She looked at her bed, unslept in, and tried to ignore the dull ache that started in her heart every time she saw Emily's side of the bed. She needed to get over this. She would hunt every night, and train every day, until her mind was as focused on her Slayer destiny as it was the day before she had set eyes on that stunning bookworm she had come to call her own.
The night was young, she had only gone home to shower and change because walking around London at night, covered in blood, wasn't really accepted in the big city, despite the fact that hardly anyone ever really saw you. She looked at the clothes she had taken off and grimaced, there was no repairing the jeans, they were beyond hope. She dressed in a fresh pair and pulled on a black t-shirt before sponging down her leather jacket in the bathroom. This time when she looked in the mirror, she saw the hard faced bitch she was used to seeing, the one whose jaw was set, whose eyes gleamed with the prospect of a fight, the one she hadn't seen for a while.
She half-smiled to herself, she could do this, she would do this. She flexed her muscles and donned a back scabbard, slotting her samurai sword into it, before jamming her arms into the leather jacket. It had been a gift from Emily, and she would not get rid of it, though her muscles were expanding with Slayer Strength by the day, and it wouldn't fit much longer.
She walked through the flat to the front door and went through it. Once more ignoring the eviction notice pinned to the front of it, that would have to wait, right now, she wanted to kill something...