You've done your best to avoid her, but as the excitement died down and everyone pretty much accepted the world was going to hell whether they screamed about it or kept their mouths shut, the two of you found yourselves alone in the kitchen.
Rummaging the cupboards in search for more liquor (the harder, the better. You were no drinker, but considering the world was going to end in a few hours, you figured might as well just go with the flow), you paid Rowena no mind. Drink, you reminded yourself, willing yourself to stay focused on you task. You're here for the drink.
You just needed to find it, and then you would forget. Forget that the world was ending. Forget that there was a madwoman on the loose. Forget that up until a few hours ago you were working with a psychopath who was partly to blame for this tension.
Until she, along with you, along with the rest of this universe, disappears forever.
"You might as well just say it," Rowena said as she put the kettle on, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
You gulped. There goes the idea to ignore her. "Say what?"
"Whatever it is you've been wanting to say." You turned to her, and she shot you a deadpan look, crossing her arms over her chest like a teacher who'd caught their student in a lie. "You've been staring at me for hours, dear. Don't think I haven't noticed."
You never were good at subtlety.
"There's nothing to say."
"Really? I think there's plenty."
"The world's ending and I'm looking for a drink," you said, shrugging.
Rowena narrowed her eyes. "You don't drink."
You did now. "Maybe I do. Maybe I always did." She was doing this now, of all times? "Since when do you care what I'm doing?"
"Don't do this," she said with a sigh.
"I'm not doing anything," you said, a tad more harshly than intended. "Sorry your boyfriend's not here anymore. I'd say good riddance, but I don't wanna hurt your feelings."
"Don't," she warned.
You ignored her. "Must've felt good to see him again, after all this time."
"That's enough, Y/N!" Rowena said sternly. "I won't let you talk to me like that."
"Why don't you just ignore me – again? You're good at that."
"You're acting like a child!" she accused.
"At least I'm not pretending nothing happened!" you shot back. Tears prickled at your eyes, rimming them red. Memories flashed in your mind, as fresh and bright as if they were new. You begging Rowena not to do it. Her assuring you everything will be fine. The look of adoration on her face as she observed him, while you stood aside in the shadows, ignored and forgotten. The walls you'd hidden behind. A loud, spine-chilling crack. Her limp body falling to the ground. Eyes, once full of light, staring at you with a lifeless gaze. "You've made your choice, Rowena."
"As have you," she said after a short break. "You knew what you were getting into. I'm a wicked witch, love. Never claimed to be otherwise. I'm not to blame for your unreasonable expectations."
"I never asked you to love me! I just wanted you to be my friend!" you snapped, tears spilling from your eyes. "I gave you a chance when everyone else thought you a lost cause. I left everything I had behind, just to be with you. I stood by you. Defended you. And how did you repay me? By trusting Satan over me! Fucking Satan, Rowena!"
She had the decency to look ashamed, shifting her gaze aside. The words stung, but you had to let them out. You had to let her know.
Your feelings for Rowena were no secret. At first you hid them, but with time it became harder to pretend as if nothing had changed between the two of you. So you stopped. There was no use acting like you thought of her as just a friend, when every single cell in your body burned with desire for her. Rowena noticed straight away, but said nothing. Her stance was clear. And so was yours.
Just as she had a strict no feelings attached policy, you felt entitled to nothing. All you wanted was to learn from her, to be at least half a witch she was. Being her friend was more than enough.
You'd known about her thirst for power from the very start. But to think she would trust Lucifer, of all people…
What hurt the most wasn't her trusting him.
It was her trusting him more than you.
"You know why I was there? I was going to blackmail Crowley to release you," you told her, wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt. "Instead I had to watch Lucifer kill you."
"Darling, I…" Rowena looked at you, features softening. "It was foolish of me to trust him. I know that now. If you'd stayed–"
"I couldn't," you cut in. "Every time you get hurt, I worry like crazy. And watching you die… I thought I'd lost you forever. I'd rather be away from you than go through that again."
As much as it pained you to leave her, you couldn't stay with her anymore. Bruises and cuts popping up on her body from time to time were bad enough, but watching her die… It was hell. You could take care of a few injuries. Death, on the other hand, was out of your jurisdiction. She'd survived Lucifer's attempt on her life, but who's to say she would be this lucky next time?
She hadn't even told you about the failsafe. When Lucifer snapped her neck, you thought that was it, that you would never see her again. Seeing her come back to life a few minutes afterwards, as you knelt beside her body and cried your eyes out, was a welcome surprise. But it was also the last straw.
Rowena walked over to you, placing her hands on your cheeks. You eased into her touch, heart jumping at the feel of her delicate skin on yours. You'd almost forgotten how gentle she could be, how soft and warm her hands were. The same hands that wielded power you could only dream of having were caressing you so tenderly that you felt as if you would melt any moment now.
You missed this; missed having her this close, missed touching her.
"If I were to promise that things would be different, would you consider coming back?" she asked, eyes staring deep into yours. If you didn't know her any better, you'd think she was begging. But there was no way; she was Rowena, a wicked witch, unapologetic to the core. She didn't beg. She claimed and ruined and destroyed, but she never begged. Not unless she needed something, or…
Or if there was more to her than met the eye.
And if there was one thing you were one hundred percent certain of, it was that Rowena MacLeod was a complicated creature. She had a soft side. She could be kind. She could be sweet.
Who's to say she hadn't cherished your friendship the same way you had?
"Does it matter?" you asked. "We'll all be dead in a few hours, anyway."
"That's a few hours less of solitude," Rowena said.
You leaned forwards, pressing your forehead to hers. "I'm scared," you admitted, everything you'd been holding back for months pouring out in the form of tears and sobs. Gone was the anger and disappointment. All you had left now was pain; pain of life soon to be lost, pain of taking so long to face her. If you'd given her another chance, you could have had a few more months with her. You could have had her with you, as a mentor, perhaps even as a good friend.
Instead, you were all alone.
And now, it was too late to change that.
You hadn't even had a full day to be with her.
"I know, darling," Rowena cooed in a manner that was more motherly and tender than ever before.
"I don't want to die," you wept. "I want to be with you. I'm sorry I left. I should've given you another chance."
"You were in the right to leave," she soothed, using her fingers to wipe away your tears. "I have betrayed your trust. I was foolish to think the devil would make good on his promises. You warned me not to trust him and I ignored you. If anyone should apologize, it's me."
"Forget it," you told her. She regretted her actions just as you had regretted yours. That was more than enough for you. "Just be here. Be my friend. That's all I want."
"Friend?" Rowena stepped back, looking you in the eyes as she raised a pointed eyebrow. "Darling, who said anything about friendship?"
She didn't give you time to process her words, whatever it is you'd mouthed to say forever cut off by the force of her lips connecting with yours. There was passion in that kiss that you'd never experienced before, hunger like no other. You found yourself as stiff as a statue, unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to do anything but just stand there and let her do as she pleased.
Rowena was a fantastic kisser. She was an experienced lover, centuries your senior, and it showed. God, it showed! Not even in your wildest dreams had she kissed you like this. A mere fantasy could never be as good – as magical, as special – as the real thing.
"You… you kissed me," you whispered as your lips parted, gasping for breath.
"Aye," Rowena said. "Let's just say you aren't the only one who thought things through these past few months."
She… liked you? Rowena MacLeod, one of the most powerful witches alive, a force of nature, the love of your life, liked you? Liked you liked you?
If there was ever a time when you wanted to jump out of your skin, it was now.
"But what about Chuck?"
Rowena frowned. "What about him?"
"You and him seemed quite… chummy," you said a tad too bitterly than you'd intended. Being angry wasn't the only reason you avoided her. Watching the person you're in love with practically drool all over someone else – God, of all people – was far from easy. Lucifer was one thing, but the Man Himself? A common witch like you couldn't compete with that.
"That was just flattery, dear," Rowena said with a chuckle.
You let out a small sigh. So it wasn't adoration. Rather, she was kissing his ass in a way only she knew how.
"Are you jealous?" she asked, an amused smirk playing on her lips.
You blushed. "I didn't even know you were into girls."
"Oh, sweetie, I couldn't care less about what's down there," she said, motioning to your crotch. "The only thing that interests me is what's up here." She put a forefinger to your temple. "You're one intriguing lass."
"I-I'm assuming that's a good thing?" you stammered, uncertain.
"That's a great thing," Rowena said. "How about we find ourselves a room and make the best out of our few remaining hours?"
A wide grin spread across your face. Dying didn't seem quite as bad with her by your side.