Once upon a time, there was a girl who was chosen to be a Slayer.
She was a good girl, obedient, industrious, strong. She always did what she was told and she made her Watcher very happy. What did it matter that she did not remember her parents? They were just two people in the world she was sworn to protect. What did it matter that she hadn't had a single doll, that she had been given a sword instead? A doll hasn't saved anybody. What did it matter that she hadn't had a single friend, that she had had a Watcher? At least she wouldn't have to stake someone who used to be close to her.
So it happened that the Slayer grew up and knew nothing of people. She had no idea why other girls dyed their hair and why they had long painted nails. She owned literally one shirt. Sometimes she wore high heels, but those made good weapon. Nails and dyed hair weren't useful, quite the opposite. The Slayer didn't want useless things. That's how she was brought up.
Until she met another Slayer and this girl was everything our Slayer looked down on. She was kissing a vampire she was supposed to kill, she told half of her school about her secret mission, and she apparently hadn't read a single book in her life. But our Slayer had her orders and she worked with the Weird Slayer. She eventually understood the other girl's life, although she didn't agree. It was a good thing to have someone else who helped her protect the world, even though that someone was working with children and vampires.
I wish I could tell you that the story has a happy ending. That the Slayer died of old age, perhaps surrounded by friends she had never wanted, that she passed away with the knowledge that she fought well and it was time to pass the fight to someone younger and stronger. But that's not how Slayer stories end.
There was a vampire, a woman with dreamy eyes, and anyone who looked in those eyes was lost in them. The Slayer fought her and she was pinned down. The vampire looked like she was going to scratch her eyes out. But then the Slayer looked into the vampire's dreamy eyes and was lost like so many before and so many after. The vampire was beautiful, a true lady of the night, as she rose her hand and her fingernails slashed the air and the Slayer's throat.
They were painted red as blood, was the last Slayer's thought.
So what is the end of the story? She fought well and she passed the fight to someone young and strong. And there were people in the world that would call her a friend. She can rest in peace.
Sleep well, little Slayer. You earned your rest. Sleep well.