A Promise to a Lady
You can almost see it, how marvellous that night would be. The skies would weep for a lost warrior while her blood sang in your veins. The grass would be wet under your feet; grave dirt tickling your soles. And you'd laugh.
The triumph would be hers too, your princess'. You'd have finally proved your worthiness for her affections. Drusilla would twirl around the gravestone, celebrating a third Slayer under your belt. She'd kiss you, drag you down until you're covered in mud and leaves.
The dance of the victorious, that's your promise. Nothing can stop you from keeping it.