Author's Chapter Notes:
This is a one-shot, purposely vague to be open to interpretation and the possibility for more. Please review as it is my first Spuffy story and it might inspire me to continue.
"Don't try to pin this on me! Don't act like you care because you lied to me!" she yelled at him, tears of hurt, rage, and indignation marring her otherwise flawless features.

She stood tall before him, trying to put on a tough facade, though she had broken down long before their confrontation. Internally she was anything but the proud warrior she tried to come across as. Inside she was just a scared and insecure little girl, desperate to believe that the past few hours had been a lie, a nightmare that she would soon wake out of. Her words meant nothing when her face was crumpling in anguish. The ragged sobs that threatened to tears through her body were creeping around her defenses, merciless in their assault. She knew that he was aware of the state she was really in, but she refused to display such weakness to his face.

She stood once again in the park where she had first met him, where she had first spoken to him, where she had first loved him. Those times before now, everything was fresh and new. She had been a jovial young girl, victorious in all her conquests. Now she stood in the same patch of grass where she had first spotted him leaning against the trunk of a tree, a cigarette dangling from his lips, a smirk firmly in place, his head cocked to the side observing her. Now she stood in mud-stained jeans and a torn sweatshirt, a river of tears spilling over the bank of her eyes and coursing down her cheeks, her breath catching in her throat and suffocating her, hair clinging to her face.

He was enraged. He had just been witness to the sight of her in the arms of that pillock, crying, and clinging onto him. Her face had been buried in his neck, making her lips press against the column of the other man's throat, and her arms had been wrapped around him, securing him to her. How dare she make it all about him when mere moments ago she had been absorbed in another's embrace, she had been gifting her pain to another and taking comfort from someone other than him.

Admittedly his intentions for her in the past weren't the best, but what about now?! Now he loved the bitch! Of course he would keep that confession to himself now, the truth behind his feelings and the weight of the emotions flooding him were only for him to know, for him to bear.

They were both so caught up in their thoughts that they failed to take notice of the downpour that had started. He was vaguely aware of the raindrops that bombarded his face, too acutely aware of her presence, never wavering in her stance. She was so determined to look strong, to make him believe that she wasn't breaking down, but he knew her better than she gave him credit for. He knew she was aware that her mask was failing her and that her facade was crumbling, but she didn't really know that depth of the knowledge he held of her. He knew all about the way she spoke, the way she laughed, the way she walked, the way she fought, the way she ate, the way she loved....and hated. He knew all of her in intimate detail, some details more intimate than others.

Through clouded vision he saw her defensive position, her coiled body ready to strike at a moments notice and without a moments hesitation. She was utterly beautiful. She looked somewhat like a drowned rat might, but she was gorgeous, ethereal...and he couldn't help but laugh, harder even at her confusion and anger at his sudden outburst. She was just too lovely, a vision in downpour.

He wagered that he looked no better. His tight jeans were so thoroughly soaked that they had become a part of his skin. His black shirt clung to his muscles, perfectly outlining the hard lines and contours of his chest and back. His normally slicked back hair was now a mass of wet curls, and he recalled a time when she off-handedly mentioned her approval of it that way. He looked back at her, his laughter dying down upon seeing the change the expression had undergone. In place of the previous mask of hate she had sported, her face now figured into an odd expression he had never seen her wear and it disconcerted him that he could not properly identify a certain facet of her being.

She looked at him laughing at her or, she guessed, at what she must look like, and she couldn't help but have some of her anger dissipate. Wet as he was, he was still gorgeous and God help her but she still wanted him, needed him,...loved him with the fire of a thousand suns. The embers of love were starting to rekindle deep in her soul and she couldn't stop the rush of passion that filled her at seeing him laugh so carelessly.

He looked just like a child sometimes, so spirited and carefree. She desperately wanted to forgive him for all he did and all he had wanted to do to her. She wanted to rush him and fill his arms with her lithe form. She wanted to warm his cold body with her burning one. She wanted so many things that she couldn't have and they all revolved around him.

Her stubborn eyes refused to tears themselves away from his chest, perfectly chiseled out of fine marble and outlined by his soaking shirt. She wanted to hold him, to kiss him with all the passion coiled inside her body, she wanted to release her love like a flood and let it wash over him, drowning him. She wanted to make love to him again, but she was so hurt and she refused to let him think that she could pardon his offences so quickly, that she would let her love overshadow her pain just at the mere sight of him.

So they stood there, in a deadlock, in the place where it all started. They were now facing off, destroying each other, attempting to desecrate with violence the ground that was once so holy to them.

They knew that they had to destroy those feelings before they were consumed by them and then demolished themselves. She looked at him again, brought her gaze upon him, and green clashed with blue in a battle neither was sure would be won but both knew would be fought. In that instant she felt her resolve crumble, this was the end for her and she knew it.

He saw her looking at him, defeat evident in her eyes. He remembered again something she had said to him months ago after receiving his praise. I'm not as strong as you think I am. It was now that he understood what she meant. She had been warning him. That had been her way of telling him to not hurt her because she could very well perish if she was ever hurt by love.

Suddenly her face changed, hardened, and he knew she had made a decision. A decision based on the principles she had been taught, a decision that conflicted with the girl that struggled for some input but got none. He would make it easy for her. After all, he loved her.

He cocked his head slightly and smirked at her. She knew he had seen her change, understood her decision, and there was no turning back.

Swiftly, with the grace he had put into practice for over a hundred years, he shifted into game face and lunged at her.





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