A Witch's Aftermath

Disclaimer: I just own the fanfiction. The characters all belong to Spelling and Co. The idea for this one came to me after I replayed the end of the second part of A Witch's Tail, and I came to the conclusion that I should venture a bit more into Cole's feelings. While you can easily see both of their expressions as they are standing across from one other on the beach, I couldn't help but think so much more was still left unsaid. Isn't it always with these two?

It doesn't matter. It's over between us. Simple, direct, and very much to the point.

The words had ultimately cornered and penetrated his heart like ice, as a cold and unwanted emotion invaded his entire being without the caution and permission, seemingly closing him off to the enlightening and challenging prospect of hope. Her bare feet caressed the sand, while his black coat hung loosely around her shoulders, her petite frame appearing so vulnerable, and yet so strangely guarded and strained at the sight of his presence. The silence that hung in the air between them was unbearable, but oddly unavoidable, and waves gently lapped themselves carelessly across the shore.

But even after all this time, he'd held true to the promise he'd made to her before he'd escaped. He'd never given up. He'd had the courage to fight and carry on. That much was true- it had always been true, and no matter what she tried to do to pit herself against it, she couldn't deny it. The utter lack of concern she'd displayed towards him upon being reunited, had surprised him a thousand times over, even as she'd sliced clean through the flesh of his hand with a letter opener and fled straight into oblivion, disregarding his countless protests of haunting sincerity. She obviously hadn't thought about tying up loose ends, and had forgotten him just as soon as he'd left.

He'd saved her life back then. Not just once, but more times than she was probably willing to admit. She would've had a bullet lodged in her chest right now, if it weren't for him, and instead she had stood there, and she had literally changed into a woman he wasn't sure he even knew anymore. Her eyes didn't contain the devotion they once did, and they appeared to be strangely cold and completely void of feeling.

He had given up sitting beside the Source as his right hand man, in exchange for a love and a devastating betrayal that ultimately fought hard to threaten his life, as he questioned his loyalties as a man. But she'd always been more important, even when she was yelling and screaming at him at the top of her lungs, or had simply convinced herself she'd lost her trust altogether. He'd stayed constant in his affections, and he'd gotten burned for it. Such was love, if you felt it deeply enough. And he had. He still did. He’d go to the edge of the world and back again, if he could only get more of a response and a reason out of her. He knew what hurt was. She was the only woman that had ever carved her displeasure into his very soul, challenging him in ways he didn't expect. But she was a fighter and a Halliwell and she always had been.

She shifted her stance, looking up at him, her eyes still plagued with shadows, a few strands of her brown hair blowing softly in the breeze. Her lips parted slightly, her body shivering in its naked state. "Think you could walk me home?" she finally asked him, her tone still unbearably tense. "I mean, it's just...no powers, okay?"

As tough as he'd always been, as tough as he wanted to be at that very moment, he could almost feel the hurt physically transform itself into the blurry clouds that clung reluctantly to his blues, as he struggled with everything he had not to let the tears fall.

"Yeah," he sided.

He wanted to throw his arms around her. He wanted to stop her from shaking, as she drew the coat closer to her, her teeth starting to chatter. He wanted to tell her just how wrong she was, and how his intentions were truer than they'd ever been before. He wanted to tell her a thousand things that she probably wouldn't give a damn about, and yet he feared she may also prove to be his undoing.

She said she loved him. And the word love, well...it was much more real than its intangible presence let on. It had sustained him in the Wasteland among the fiery depths and vanquished demons, and it was sustaining him now. It was clear that she was still capable of it herself, and that it must have honestly existed somewhere inside of her to undo the transformation. But it was so like her to shy away from something she didn't have the proper words to explain- words she still didn't. He knew that much. She seemed to enjoy dancing around acceptance- and yet she was so willing to be overcome by temptation.

Through her, he could reminisce, and he could remember the long walks in the park, and the jazz, and the fine wine. He could remember them happy and secure and so doubtless of their feelings for each other. But sometimes it just wasn't enough. Sometimes you were caught by surprise, and sometimes you had to fight the unsuspecting evil that came your way. He'd done it when the very enemy he'd been working against, was the very enemy he had become. It had sucked him into a world that feasted upon the roots of darkness and despair, and suddenly his body had begun to do things it didn't want to do. It wasn't like he'd been strong enough to stop it, or that he could've actually told her, considering the consequences he'd been burdened with whenever he had been able to emerge and try.

He began walking with her, his hands wrapped into loose fists at his side. Yes, he would have loved to share some kind of future with her, but that was all gone- although...as much as her decision hadn't worked in his favor, he couldn't bring himself to say that it was never meant to be. No. That was more or less her vision, and the way in which she was so easily ready to move on and explore new aspects of life. Perhaps a little too easily.

When he'd first met her, he'd wanted to kill her- he'd been trained to kill her. He'd desired nothing more than the Triad's respect and a way in to the infamous Book of Shadows. He’d been selfish, out for himself, and unable to care. He'd do the deed and he’d be on his merry way- more importantly, he'd never have to think about her or her sisters ever again. They'd be dead, gone, and chaos would have had no choice but to ensue, to breed amongst the evil that existed in the crevices where no one looked.

Yes, love was a tricky concept. One he'd had to learn and one he was still learning.

She was much shorter than he was, and he towered over her, as their feet crushed over more sand, leaving behind the outlines of footprints that would forever be left to fate. And that's what it always had been, he reasoned. Fate. Destiny. Whatever it was supposed to be called. She was so small, so fragile, and yet she was merely angry and not the slightest bit scared of all he'd put her through, even when she was so willing to chose the evil inside of him over her sisters. Yes. Temptation worked both ways. It could consume good or evil, and she was just as susceptible to it as he was.

A Charmed One who only did as much good as the innocents allowed. But when she was at her weakest, when she was simply torn- she had only herself to blame.

So he would wait.

The End