Running.
Jumping.
Lunging.
Searching.
Hunting.
Kicking.
Punching.
Fighting.
Dying.
Loving.
Loving.
She is the slayer.
Her blonde hair does not shine within the darkness of a shadow, until the moon light catches a view of her, or she attacks from where she was hiding.
In the darkness, she looks for those who hunt the ones she protects. Those hunters are now her prey.
She is the ultimate Huntress.
Her marvelous orbs of green light paths of hope, or fire into anyone who catches them. They are grey when she is unhappy. The greener, the better.
The orbs of light shine when they are opened, allowing her to see those hiding in the dark.
In a nearby shadow, her mate awaits her attack, longing to see the warrior battle. The poetry she makes in mid air does no t let him down.
The dance of death is played in front of him, and he watches on in wonder.
When she is finished with some of the cannon-fodder, he too plays in the game.
He cannot defeat his mate, but he is in no way inadequate, for he too is a vampire like she is born to take out- one of the best. An infamous vampire to an infamous slayer.
Angel watches Buffy in the moonlight made for fights and his wife. He smiles. As long as he is near her, she will live, and both of them will do more then exist; But only if he remains at his mate's side.
As they walk out of the graveyard, hand-in-hand, they smile. Their soul's intertwined, they are fine.