One Two Three Slayers

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Written in response to Rooibas' (LJ's myfeetshowit)369 Challenge, Spring 2006, Three ficlets, each 69 words, linked by content or theme.

The First Step.
She was all business, every move a study in grace and practised art, the classic sword stroke conferring the mark, the first step in my transformation. Cool intensity amid the noise and heat, she matched me blow for blow, ever mindful that the loss of her weapon would bring death at the hands of one who never needed to reach for his. There I became the Slayer of Slayers.

Second Skin.
Nikki had some of your style. Never knew what she'd do next. She was inventive, so full of passion and fire. Almost sent me down a few times; leading me, teasing, dancing me right to the edge, finally pitching over into the abyss. She was full of something I couldn’t touch, so I took something of hers as a reminder; a second skin for William the Bloody Awful Poet.

Third Time Unlucky?
Your death was different. In the first place, I didn’t seek this one. In the second, it wasn’t anything I did, but rather what I didn’t that was its cause. I’d give anything to change what took place that night, to save you a thousand different ways, protect her, go out fighting instead of you. Foolish dreams? Wishful thinking? Your gift, you said. I call it 'third time unlucky'.