CHARMED
"COMMITMENT"
by J. B. Tilton
email: aramath@isot.com
Rating: PG (for mild language)
Disclaimer: "Charmed" and all related characters and events are
the property of the WB television network, except for those characters
specifically created for this story. This is a work of fan fiction
and no infringement of copyright is intended.
* * *
Author's note: This story takes place before season 3 episodes
"Coyote Piper" and "We All Scream For Ice Cream".
* * *
To avoid the bounty hunters looking for him after he destroys
the Triad, Cole shimmers to a small mid-western town. He hopes to
hide out there for a few days while he sorts things out.
Unfortunately, he becomes embroiled in a situation in the town that
will test his dedication to turning from evil to good.
* * *
ONE
Cole shimmered into the graveyard and stood looking around. He
watched intently, looking for any sign that he had been followed.
Confident that he had lost the bounty hunters for the moment, he
relaxed.
The past couple of weeks had been harrowing. Every demon, it
seemed, was out to make a name for themselves by destroying the
infamous Belthazor. After he had destroyed the Triad, word had
quickly spread about what he had done. Now the Source wanted him
dead. He was a traitor to his own kind and that was something the
Source simply could not tolerate.
"What the hell was I thinking?" he asked out loud.
Almost as soon as he asked it, he knew what the answer was.
Phoebe was what he was thinking. His love for her, and hers for him,
had proven stronger than the evil that was ever present in him.
Stronger than even the fear instilled by the Triad or the Source.
Their love had been the catalyst he had finally needed to overcome
that evil. To turn him to good.
But there was a price. He knew what that price was even before
he had destroyed the Triad. He was now a hunted man. And he would
continue to be hunted until, and unless, he could think of a way to
make the Source forget about him.
That's why he had come to this sleepy little mid-western town.
He had passed through here once before. It had been some seventy
years ago. From what he could tell, it hadn't changed all that much
since then. A small mid-western town very similar to thousands just
like it spread out all across the country. Only these towns had
something that would prove beneficial to him.
Or rather, they didn't have something. No demonic influence.
These small towns held little interest for demons, even the Source.
Oh, occasionally a minor demon would wreak havoc in towns like this.
But the upper level demons; the ones he had cause to fear; would not
think to look for him here.
But that wouldn't last long. In a matter of days some bounty
hunter would trace him here. Then, they would come for him. Well, he
had these few precious days. Phoebe, Piper, and Prue would be
relatively safe with him gone. At least he didn't have to worry about
a demon that was hunting him accidentally hurting them. They had
enough demons coming after them as it was. They didn't need him
adding to their lot by bringing even more demons to their door.
He looked into the sky. It would be sunrise soon. He couldn't
stay in the cemetery. Unlike San Francisco, this cemetery held no
mausoleum. He couldn't hide out there here. He would need to find
some other place to stay while he was in town.
That shouldn't prove much of a problem either, though. There
were bound to be some empty houses in town. Perhaps one even on the
outskirts of town where his comings and goings wouldn't be too
noticeable.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. Not
as much as he would have liked. But at least he had enough money to
last him a few days. Even if he was going to be a squatter for a few
days, he still needed to eat. Something he had once considered a
failing because of his human half. Now, eating seemed to bring him
closer to Phoebe.
He left the cemetery and walked into the town a short distance
away. Very few people would be up yet. He would be able to look
around and find the house he needed before anyone knew he was there.
With his ability to shimmer, no one would see him enter or leave.
Although he would have to keep his eyes open for any sign that the
demonic bounty hunters had found him.
TWO
Cole sat in a local diner eating breakfast. There had been no
empty houses for him to hide out in. There was, however, a small
motel along the highway in the town. Its' guests were usually
tourists who were simply passing through the small town for a night's
respite before continuing on to their destinations.
The town had changed little since Cole had been there last. It
was a little bigger, of course. Still, only a little less than two
thousand people called the town home. Located in southern of
Illinois. It was about as far from the demonic influenced San
Francisco as one could get. Cole should be relatively safe for
several days.
"You seem to be enjoying your meal a great deal."
Cole looked up to see the waitress refilling his coffee cup.
Her nametag read "Martha" and she was a very pretty blonde about
twenty years old.
"Yes," said Cole. "It's been a long time since I had a meal
this good. I spend a lot of time traveling."
"I see," said Martha. "I assume you're only staying for one
day. Most visitors don't stay much longer than that."
"No," said Cole, "actually, I'm going to be staying a few days.
Sort of a small vacation, you might say."
"Well, I hope you enjoy your stay," said Martha. "There really
isn't much to do around here, but it is quiet. Most of the time,
anyway."
"I'm just looking for a few days rest," said Cole.
Just then three young men about Martha's age came into the
diner. They were loud and boisterous and Cole had no trouble
identifying them. They would be the troublemakers of this small town.
Most small towns had them. Young men who weren't able to go off
in search of adventure as they wanted. Trapped in what they
considered the garbage heap of the world, they took their anger and
frustration out on whomever happened to be around.
"Great," said Martha. "Toby Stiles and his friends. Just what
I need this morning."
Cole went back to his meal, but kept his eyes on the young men.
The last thing he wanted was to get embroiled in some local trouble.
As long as they left him alone, he wouldn't bother them.
"Hey, Martha," said Toby, stepping in front of the young woman,
"how ya' doin'? I thought you and I could drive over to Mount Parker
tonight and catch a movie. You won't regret it, I promise."
'I regret even knowing you," Martha spat out. "And how many
times do I have to tell you, I'm not going out with you? You know
Mark and I are seeing each other. He'll be home this weekend and
we'll be going to the movies. So, no thanks."
"Come on," said Toby, grabbing her arm. "Mark's a wimp. You
need a real man. Like me. Jake and Peter here will tell you. I'm
enough man for any woman. Especially the pathetic ones who live
around here. Forget Mark already. He's a looser."
"Toby Stiles," said Martha, anger in her voice, "I don't care if
your father does own half the land around here. I'm not interested.
Leave me alone."
"Hey, babe," said Toby, pulling her closer to him, "you just
haven't had a taste of what you're missing."
"Not interested," said Martha, trying to pull away from him.
"Bitch," said Toby. He slapped her across the face. "No one
turns down Toby Stiles, no one. Least of all some little tramp
daughter of the local minister. Come on. You're taking the morning
off."
Toby began to pull the young woman toward the door. Cole looked
around and was surprised to see that no one was even attempting to
intervene. Even the men in the diner seemed to become intensely
interested in their own meals. As Toby and Martha reached his table,
Cole stuck his foot out stopping them both in their tracks.
"Why not let her go?" he said, looking up at the young man.
"She's busy at the moment."
"Mind your own business," said Toby.
Cole stood up. The two were looking eye to eye with each other.
The young man seemed to be a bit more muscular than Cole was, but that
didn't bother him. He was, after all, only a human. There were few
humans that Cole feared.
"I said," said Cole, pulling Martha away from Toby, "let her go.
She's obviously not interested in your advances. You should learn to
take a hint."
The young man reached for Cole. Cole simply stepped to one side
and grabbed the young man's wrist, pulling him off balance. Toby went
flying across the room, colliding with his two friends.
"Oh, that was stupid," said Toby. "Three against one. Not very
good odds, really."
"You're right," said Cole, stepping between Martha and the three
boys. "Maybe I should let you go get some more of your friends so it
will be more fair."
"Real funny," said Toby. "I'm going to make you eat those
words, mister. No one comes into this town and puts their hands on
Toby Stiles, no one. You're going to be real sorry you ever stopped
in here."
"Is there a problem here?" asked a voice from the front door.
Everyone turned to see a man about thirty standing in the
doorway. He was wearing a police uniform.
"No, no problem, John," said Toby. "Just having a friendly
conversation, that's all. Come on Jake, Peter. Let's get out of
here."
The three men turned and pushed their way past the officer. He
watched as they piled into a car and peeled out, streaking down the
street, running through a stop sign.
"You okay, Martha?" asked the policeman.
"I'm fine," said Martha. "This gentleman helped me. If not for
him, I'm not sure what would have happened."
"Thanks," said the policeman. "I'm John Harper, the local law
enforcement. Sorry you had to see that. Toby and his friends can get
out of hand sometimes."
"Cole Turner," said Cole, shaking John's hand. "You should
arrest that Toby. He hit Martha. Everyone in here saw it. You'd
have an open and shut case for battery."
"I appreciate the advice," said John. "Martha, you want to file
a complaint?"
"N . . . no," stammered Martha. "It was nothing. I think he
had been drinking. I'll be okay."
"It wasn't nothing," protested Cole. "No one has the right to
go around hitting someone else, least of all some overbearing pompous
ass like that. If she won't file a complaint, I will as a witness."
"And just who might you be, Mr. Cole Turner?" asked John.
"I'm an assistant district attorney in San Francisco," said
Cole. "I was . . . on my way east to visit some family."
"Well," said John, "if you really want to file a complaint, I
guess I can't stop you. But I have to tell you, it probably won't do
any good."
"Please, Mr. Turner," pleaded Martha. "Don't cause any trouble.
Officer Harper is right. Even if you file a complaint, Toby won't
spend one day in jail. His father will see to that. Just let it go.
Please."
Cole couldn't believe what he was hearing. No one seemed to
want to hold this young man responsible for his actions. He had
already proven he had no compunction about striking a woman. There
was no telling what else he was capable of. And no one seemed to want
to do anything about it.
THREE
"Thank you for coming to the aid of my daughter," said Martha's
father. "I appreciate what you did for her."
Reverend Chrichton had invited Cole into his home after Officer
Harper had given them a ride to Martha's home. Being half demon, Cole
was a bit uncomfortable being in the home of a minister. But he
decided it was best if he didn't make them any more suspicious than
necessary.
"It's a good thing Harper showed up when he did," said Cole.
"That young Stiles needs to be taught a lesson."
"Please, I would appreciate it if you would forget about it,"
said Rev. Chrichton. "Our church doesn't believe in violence. For
any reason. If you repay his violence with more violence, it would
contravene the very tenant of our faith.
"He attacked your daughter," protested Cole. "I'm sure if I
hadn't intervened, he would have done a great deal worse than that.
He should be locked up."
"It's not our way," said Rev. Chrichton. "We believe in
repaying evil with good. I'm sure that with a little Christian
kindness, he'll eventually come around. We just have to show him that
he is misguided."
"Yeah, misguided," said Cole, sarcastically. "Listen, I don't
mean to ridicule your religion, but he's more than misguided. Believe
me, I've seen more like him than I can remember. He's not misguided.
He's simply bad. If you don't do something about it now, you're going
to have some real trouble on your hands. And it won't take long
either."
"I'm not offended," said Rev. Chrichton. "Most people don't
accept our beliefs to the degree that we do. It's nothing new to us."
"All the same," said Cole, "that boy needs to be locked up.
He's dangerous. All Martha has to do is swear out a complaint on
him."
"It wouldn't do any good," said Martha. "Mr. Stiles would just
use his money and influence to get Toby out of any trouble he gets
into. He always has. It's the main reason Toby can do whatever he
wants. His father always covers for him."
"What about the police?' asked Cole. "Harper seemed to be
willing to do something about it. He just needs someone to file a
complaint."
"If he did," said Martha, "Mr. Stiles will just see that he
loses his job. The police around here are just tokens. There's
really nothing they can do about it."
"What about the state officials?" asked Cole. "Surely they can
do something about him."
"I'm afraid not," said Rev. Chrichton. "Everyone is afraid of
him. No one will testify against him. A couple of citizens tried to
a couple of years ago, but they just disappeared one day. And, of
course, there was no evidence implicating Stiles or anyone who worked
for him."
"Great," said Cole. "So you have to live under his totalitarian
control, is that it? That's intolerable. Why do you stay here? Why
don't you move someplace else?'
"This is our home," said Rev. Chrichton. "Where else would we
go? As I said, I'm sure that if we show them enough love and
kindness, they will eventually change their ways."
"I'm not as optimistic," said Cole.
"Please, promise me," said Rev. Chrichton, "that you will not do
anything to provoke them. Especially because of us. I simply cannot
condone any form of violence, especially in my name. As I said, we do
not believe in violence. For any reason."
"Okay," said Cole reluctantly. "I don't plan to be in town very
long anyway. But I think you're making a mistake. Sometimes the only
way to show people the error of their ways is to punish them for what
they do."
"Perhaps," said Rev. Chrichton. "But I would ask that you
respect my wishes in this matter."
"All right," said Cole. "Well, I should be getting back to the
motel. I stopped in this town for some peace and quiet. All I want
to do is rest up and take it easy."
"Thank you," said Rev. Chrichton. "I appreciate your restraint.
Can I give you a ride back to the motel?"
"No, thanks," said Cole. "I think I'll walk. It's a nice day
out."
As Cole left the Chrichton parsonage, he couldn't help but
wonder about Martha's father. A minister, of all people, should see
the value in punishing people when it was necessary. If Rev.
Chrichton had only known about Cole's heritage, he might just sing a
different tune from the one he was singing with Cole.
Cole spent the rest of the day relaxing in his motel room. He
watched television, wondering what people actually saw in it. Most of
the shows were nonsensical things that rarely portrayed life as it
really was. The good guys always won and everything was resolved in
the end. Cole knew this was rarely the case. Evil won a great deal
more than most people cared to admit. Perhaps, he thought, it was a
way to escape the humdrum monotony of their daily lives, if even for a
few moments.
The next day, Cole stopped in at the local grocery store. The
small town only had one, and, of course, it saw a great deal of
business. Apparently the town wasn't large enough to warrant a
convenience store. Cole had decided to pick up something to snack on
in his room at night.
There still hadn't been any sign of the bounty hunters he knew
must surely be after him. The Source wouldn't allow him to remain at
large for long. As long as he kept a low profile, he figured he could
avoid them almost indefinitely. He dared not risk contacting Phoebe
to tell her he was okay. He couldn't take the chance that someone
might find out where he was through her.
As he walked out of the small grocery store, he saw Toby Stiles
across the street. He was apparently talking to a young girl that
looked to be no older than thirteen or fourteen. The young girl
appeared to be trying to get away from Toby, but he continually
blocked her path.
Cautiously, Cole crossed the street and walked up behind Toby.
What he heard sickened him. After his miserable failure with Martha,
Toby had set his sights on other prey. And his new prey was nothing
more than a child.
"Hey there," said Cole.
Toby was startled. He spun around and glared at Cole while Cole
just smiled at him. Seeing possibly her only chance to escape, the
young girl turned and ran down the street as fast as her legs would
carry her.
"Just wanted to let you know there were no hard feelings about
the other day," said Cole still smiling at Toby.
Toby glanced over his shoulder and, seeing his prey eluding him,
became irate. He turned back to Cole, anger in his eyes.
"You need to mind your own business, mister," said Toby. "Bad
things happen to people around here who don't mind their own
business."
"I'm not worried," said Cole. "I doubt you'd pose a serious
threat to me."
"I might just surprise you," said Toby. "Cross my path again,
and you'll get your chance. And it won't be pretty."
Toby turned and stormed off down the street. As he was speaking
to Cole, the smile faded from Cole's face. Suddenly, Cole had lost
his sense of humor in the matter. It had nothing to do with Toby's
threat. Cole had heard his share of boisterous threats before. This
seemed no different from the others.
But something else had caused Cole's smile to fade. A nagging
thought that, perhaps, he had underestimated this "boy". Perhaps,
Toby Stiles wasn't what he appeared to be. If that was true, Cole
realized he might have a serious problem on his hands.
As Toby had voiced his threat to Cole, his eyes glowed slightly.
That could mean only one thing. Toby Stiles wasn't human. He was, in
all likelihood, a demon, just as Cole was. If he was, that meant the
Source might already know where Cole was hiding out.
FOUR
Cole looked out the window of his motel room for the thousandth
time. He couldn't understand it. There had been no sign of any demon
bounty hunters coming for him. If Toby was a demon, the Source should
have been informed by now. At the very least, Toby might try to take
Cole himself, to curry favor with the Source and bolster his
reputation in the underworld. The demon that took out Belthazor would
gain great prestige among his contemporaries.
Unless Toby was not a demon. His flashing eyes could have meant
something else. Some warlocks used that little trick. It wasn't easy
for a warlock to do, but with practice, it could be done. There were
also some other entities whose eyes flashed, but none he could think
of that would bother with this little hamburg.
Things just didn't add up. Even a demon wouldn't find anything
of interest in this little nothing of a town. At least not for very
long. The young girls here would provide a moments diversion from the
pursuit of evil. But none would remain long; not long enough to
remain in this town apparently as long as Toby had.
And Toby hadn't exhibited any special powers, even when Cole had
intervened at the diner. Everyone was obviously afraid of this young
man. Even men who were much bigger and, presumably, much stronger.
Even with his two friends around, there should be someone who was
willing to stand up against him. Which meant there must be something
about him that Cole didn't know.
That would be his first priority. He had to learn about Toby.
He had to find out if he was a demon or warlock or some other entity.
He couldn't risk leaving this town until he was sure who, or what,
Toby was. And what he might have told someone else. Without that
knowledge, Cole couldn't be sure he was effectively avoiding the
bounty hunters that were trailing him.
But where to start was the question. Other than being afraid of
this young man, no one seemed to know about any powers he might have.
Or at least they were afraid to talk about them. He thought about
asking Martha and her father but discounted that. Rev. Chrichton
seemed to be oblivious to the evil in this young man. And Martha
didn't seem interested in learning anything about Toby.
It was painfully obvious to Cole what he had to do. The best
place to learn about Toby was to go to the source, so to speak. If
anyone had information on Toby, it would be his father. The man
obviously cared about his son a great deal. Perhaps too much. Enough
to step in and protect him from any trouble he might get into.
But that was a risk as well. If Toby was a demon, his father
might be too. Or his mother might be. In any case, if Cole revealed
himself to one of them, they might contact the Source where Toby
hadn't.
Cole checked the phone book and found the address for one Mr.
Charles Stiles. It was the only Stiles in the book, so he was
reasonably sure that would be Toby's father. He decided he could risk
a short shimmer to the house. He would have to be constantly on his
guard.
Cole looked out in the parking lot to make sure no one was out
there. Then he shimmered out of the motel room. He appeared in the
hallway of what appeared to be a mansion. It was elaborately
decorated with expensive furniture, paintings, and carpet. Obviously,
Mr. Stiles was as wealthy as he'd been led to believe. He heard
voices coming from a doorway down the hall. Cautiously, he moved to
the door and listened intently.
"He's going through his bank account faster than ever, sir,"
said a voice inside the room. "In the last six months his
expenditures have nearly doubled."
"I don't care," said another voice. "You have your orders.
Just keep enough money in the account so my son doesn't have to come
here. I DON'T want him in this house, do you understand that?"
"Yes, Mr. Stiles," said the first voice. "I'll make
arrangements to transfer more money into the account first thing in
the morning."
Cole heard movement in the room. He stepped back against the
wall, obscuring himself in the darkness. The door opened and a man
dressed in a three-piece suit carrying a briefcase left the room.
Cole waited until he heard the front door open, then close, and then
he stepped out of the shadows.
There had been fear in Stiles' voice. It would appear that he
was as afraid of his own son as everyone else was. Which didn't make
sense. If Toby were a demon, he would have inherited his demonic
features from one of his parents. Why would the father be afraid of
the son? Presumably, the father would be more powerful than the son.
Things were just getting crazier by the minute. Cole looked
around the house again. It was deathly quiet. No sound emanated from
the surrounding rooms. Cole took a deep breath, and then opened the
door to the room where Stiles was. He entered quickly and closed the
door behind him.
"Who are you?" demanded Stiles, sitting behind a large oak desk.
"How did you get in here?"
"That's not important," said Cole. "We need to have a talk, Mr.
Stiles. About your son."
"My son?" questioned Stiles.
Cole could see fear in the mans' eyes. He saw the man slowly
reach into an open desk drawer. It didn't take a genius to figure out
what he was doing. He obviously kept a gun in the draw for
protection. Protection against intruders, just like Cole.
"That won't do you any good," said Cole, flashing his eyes at
the man.
"Oh, God," gasped the man. "You another one. Like him.
Please, don't hurt me. I've got money. I can pay you anything you
want. I haven't told anyone about him, I swear. Please, don't hurt
me. I don't want to die."
"You're not going to die," said Cole, sitting down in one of the
chairs in front of the desk. "I just want some information. What did
you mean 'I'm like him'? Do you mean your son?"
"Y . . . yes," stammered Stiles. "My son can flash his eyes
like that."
"Listen," said Cole, "I just want to find out what's going on
here. I don't have anything against you and I have no intention of
harming you. But I need to know about your son. Just give me the
information I need, and you'll never see me again."
"Okay," said Stiles, still very nervous. "What . . . what do
you want to know?"
"What is he?" asked Cole. "It's obvious you're afraid of him.
So is everyone else. What is it about him that makes everyone so
fearful of him?"
"Because he's a demon," said Stiles. "I never believed the
legends, really. Then, when he was sixteen, he developed powers. Not
even I could control him after that. No one could. He turned mean
after that."
"What legends?" asked Cole.
"About this town," said Stiles. "It was settled around 1817 or
so. Local legend holds that it was a place of great evil. Even the
Indians avoided it. But the settlers who came here didn't believe the
legends or rumors.
"A few years after they settled here, one of the young girls
reported being raped. By a demon that encountered her in the woods.
The town's people searched but they couldn't find anything. They
eventually decided the girl had hallucinated everything except the
rape.
"That girl was one of my ancestors. Nine months later she gave
birth to a baby boy. The boy seemed normal in all respects. Except
he began to develop special gifts. Nothing drastic. Since then, the
men in our family have all been born with unusual talents.
"Me, for instance. I have an instinctive feeling in business
dealings. I can tell when someone is lying to me or trying to screw
with me. It doesn't work so well in my personal life, but when it
comes to business it never fails."
"But it's different with Toby?" asked Cole.
"Yes," said Stiles. "His mother died giving birth. I was
beginning to think he hadn't inherited any abilities. It happens
occasionally. It can skip a generation. That's what I thought had
happened here."
"But it hadn't," offered Cole.
"No," said Stiles. "Around his sixteenth birthday he began to
exhibit abilities I had never heard of. I know it sounds crazy, but
he can throw fire. I lost most of the servants that work here. He
incinerated a couple of them when they made him mad. Most of the
others left after that."
"Why didn't the police do anything about it?" asked Cole.
"Oh, they investigated," said Stiles. "But there weren't any
bodies. And the ones who reported it just sort of seemed to
disappear. Like they just moved off somewhere. No one knew where.
Without any witnesses or evidence, there wasn't anything the police
could do."
"I see," said Cole. "But you keep covering for him. Some of
the townspeople told me. Whenever he gets into trouble, you use your
money and influence to protect him."
"Not him," said Stiles, "me. He threatened me, you see. He
said if I didn't protect him, I'd disappear just like those witnesses.
Believe me, mister, I believe him. He may be my own son, but there's
no humanity in him. And with his special abilities, there's no one
who can stop him."
"That's why you provide him with money," said Cole. "To keep
him from coming here."
"Yes," said Stiles. "As long as I keep his account full, he
stays away. It's better that way. I don't have to deal with him."
"But the townspeople do," said Cole. "You're not solving
anything this way. You're just pushing the problem off on to someone
else. Someone who doesn't have the ability to protect themselves
against him."
"And I do?" questioned Stiles. "Listen, mister. I don't know
who you are. But that boy is very dangerous. I'm just protecting
myself. I don't have any choice. If I die, he'll inherit my entire
estate. At least this way I can keep him on some sort of leash. I
give him just enough money to live on. But not enough to go anywhere.
His evil is limited to this town instead of inflicting it on some
unsuspecting metropolis somewhere. God knows what kind of trouble he
could cause there."
Cole knew exactly what kind of trouble he could cause. He had
learned what he came here to learn. Without another word, Cole stood
up and left the room. Once out of sight of Stiles, he shimmered back
to his room at the motel.
FIVE
Cole sat in his motel room thinking about his conversation with
Stiles. He had learned quite a bit. Toby wasn't a demon, per se. He
was apparently descended from a demon. It was anyone's guess which
one.
But it also meant that other demons wouldn't give Toby the time
of day. Even though he had obviously inherited some powers from his
ancestor, those powers would be severely diluted because of so many
years of being carried in a human body. Against a true demon, he
would be less than an annoyance.
But against other humans, his power would seem considerable.
Which was how he was able to keep up his reign of terror. He was,
essentially, a spoiled brat who thought of only his current momentary
pleasure. Which also explained why Mr. Stiles was still alive. As
soon as Toby figured out what was going on, he'd kill his father and
inherit the man's wealth.
It also explained why Cole hadn't sensed any demonic presence in
the small town. Toby wasn't really a demon. He only possessed
demonic powers. At least, to a degree. The only way Cole would sense
that power was when Toby was using it and then only if he was close
by.
Which meant that Cole was in no danger of being exposed by this
boy. No self-respecting demon would associate with him. If anything,
he would be considered even lower than a human. He was a bastardized
offspring of a demon. Belthazor had been accepted, even with his
human ancestry, because he had been extremely powerful And extremely
ruthless. He had proven himself to be a great asset to the forces of
evil time and again.
If Toby did try to contact a demon to report Cole being there,
that demon would more than likely just destroy him without even
listening to him. So Cole was as safe as before in this town. His
only concerns were the bounty hunters that were still looking for him.
Two more days went by and Cole saw little of the would-be demon.
He was just as glad. The boy was an arrogant punk who would certainly
try to "flex" his demonic muscles again in an attempt to impress Cole.
It was something Cole had little use for and even less patience.
He was sitting in his room watching yet another senseless
television show when there was a knock at his door. Cautiously, he
peered out the curtains at the window. Standing at the door was
Officer Harper.
"Officer Harper," said Cole, "what brings you around here?"
"Well," said Harper, "I was just wondering if you had seen
Martha. The two of you seem to have become friends and she didn't
show up at work today. Her boss got worried and asked me to see if I
could find her."
"No, I haven't seen her," said Cole. "I haven't been out of my
room all morning. You think there's anything to be worried about?"
"Probably not," said Harper. "Toby Stiles was hassling her at
the diner again last night. I thought she might have come by here to
scare him off. She's probably out with one of her friends. Sorry to
have bothered you."
"She isn't at home?" asked Cole.
"No, that's the first place I checked," said Harper. "Her
father was under the impression she had gone to work. I'll keep
checking. If you hear anything, please let me know."
"Yes, of course," said Cole.
After the officer left, Cole sat thinking about Martha being
missing. Toby had been pretty set on going out with her. Even if she
didn't want to. He couldn't believe it was simply coincidence that
she mysteriously disappeared right after Toby had hassled her.
Cole hurried out of his room and down to the diner. The owner
couldn't tell him much. She was scheduled to be at work an hour ago.
But she had simply not shown up. It was, he said, very unlike her.
She was always so prompt and dependable. Unlike Officer Harper, he
was not so sure she had gone off with a friend.
Cole stepped into an alley and looked around. No one was
looking. Quietly, he shimmered to the Stiles residence. Once inside,
he quickly located Mr. Stiles.
"Do you have any idea where Toby is right now?" demanded Cole.
"N . . . no," stammered Stiles. "I told you the other day, I
have very little contact with my son."
"I see," said Cole. "Do you know of any place he might want to
be alone? Some place secluded and out of the way."
"We have a cabin a few miles from here," said Stiles. "Haven't
used it much since Toby's mother died. He usually uses it for his
drinking parties. It sits on a lake where we used to go fishing."
"Exactly where is it?" asked Cole.
Stiles pulled a map out of his desk and showed Cole where the
cabin was located. Cole left the room and, making sure he was alone,
shimmered out of the house.
The cabin was very secluded. Thick woods surrounded it and he
imagined that unless you knew where to look, you'd never see it from
the road. It was the perfect place to hide someone.
A car sat in front of the cabin. It was the same car that Toby
and his friends had driven away in the first day Cole had met them.
He walked over and felt the hood of the car. It was still warm.
Which meant they hadn't been there long.
Cole quietly moved up to the door of the cabin and listened. He
could hear voices inside. Three, perhaps four people. And one of
them sounded female. Apparently Toby and his friends had brought
Martha here. Probably against her will. And Cole had no delusions
about their plans for her. He took hold of the door handle and opened
the door, then walked right into the cabin.
Martha was sitting in a chair in the center of the room. She
was bound by her wrists and ankles. Toby and his two friends circled
her like hungry vultures. They all looked up at him in surprise as he
burst into the scene.
"What the hell are you doing here?" demanded Toby.
"Rev. Chrichton is worried about Martha," said Cole
nonchalantly. "I thought I'd just make sure she got home okay."
"I don't think so," said Toby. He reached into his belt and
pulled out a pistol, pointing it directly at Cole. "I warned you
about messing with me. Now, it seems I'll have to take care of you.
Too bad. If you had just minded your own business, I'd have let you
live. Now, I'm afraid I don't have any other choice."
He cocked the pistol, and then fired directly at Cole's head.
SIX
Cole simply shimmered, then was gone. The four humans looked in
stunned disbelief as the bullet hit the doorframe where Cole had stood
only a second before. Before any of them could react, Cole shimmered
in behind Toby. He reached around the boy and pulled the gun out of
his hand.
"That wasn't very nice," said Cole, shoving Toby toward his two
friends. "Someone could get hurt that way."
"How the hell did you do that?" demanded Peter, one of Toby's
friends.
"It's not hard," said Cole. He shoved the gun into his belt and
began to untie Martha. "A little trick I've picked up on my travels."
"Well, it won't save you," said Toby. "You should have heeded
my warning. You must be some kind of fool if you think you're any
match for me."
"Why?" asked Cole sarcastically. "Because you flashed your eyes
at me? Please. Any third rate magician can do that trick."
"I'm not a third rate magician," said Toby.
Suddenly, Toby changed. His ears became pointed and his skin
took on a bluish tint. His eyes looked like a cat's eyes. Two
oversized fang-like teeth sprouted from his mouth. While he did have
a frightening appearance, he reminded Cole more of a minor underling
than any demonic threat.
"I tried to warn you," he said to Cole. "You obviously have no
idea who or what you're dealing with."
"Your father told me about you," said Cole. "And if you think
that frightens me, you obviously have no idea who you're dealing
with."
"What's that supposed to mean?" demanded Toby.
"Because I'm what you only pretend to be," said Cole.
Suddenly, Cole changed as well. Belthazor stood in his place
looking down on the boy as if he were a trapped animal.
"You pathetic worm," said Belthazor. "Do you think that you are
any match for a true demon? Your lineage has been watered down by
decades of mingling with human genes. Your power is less than
insignificant to me."
"Well just see about that," said Toby.
Toby formed a ball of fire in his hand. He cast it at
Belthazor. When it struck, it covered Belthazor in flames for several
seconds, and then dissipated harmlessly away. Belthazor just smiled
at Toby.
"Is that supposed to impress me?" demanded Belthazor. "You're
nothing but a child compared to me. An inexperienced child. I've
destroyed more powerful creatures than you with less trouble than it
takes to form a fireball. My name is Belthazor and there are few
demons as powerful as I am."
Belthazor reached out with his clawed hand and grabbed the Toby-
demon by the throat. He raised the boy off the floor so that his feet
dangled helplessly in the air. Peter and Jake had had enough of this
encounter. They turned and ran from the cabin as fast as their feet
could carry them, not even bothering to get in the car. They simply
ran through the woods in an attempt to escape a true demon.
"It's ironic, really," said Belthazor. "You were never a threat
to me. If you had just left me alone, I wouldn't have bothered with
you. But you had to make it personal. No one attacks Belthazor and
lives."
Toby grabbed at the hand around his throat. Even his demonic
form did not possess the necessary strength to remove the strangle
hold Belthazor possessed. Toby gasped for air fighting desperately to
escape this demon.
"Mr. Turner," said Martha, "don't hurt him. You made a promise
to my father. I'm holding you to that promise. No violence in our
name, remember? Please, let him go."
"Do you have any idea what he planned to do with you?" asked
Belthazor.
"I can guess," said Martha. "But that doesn't justify what
you're doing. We don't return evil for evil. Please, if your word to
my father means anything, let him go."
Belthazor looked at the Toby-demon, then at Martha. Although a
demon, he had always prided himself on keeping his word. His
experience had taught him that this boy would say anything to spare
his life. Most likely, he would go right back to the way he was when
Cole had first encountered him. He was convinced he should strangle
the life out of the Toby-demon, despite his promise to Martha's
father.
Then he thought of Phoebe. What would she think when she
learned what he had done? He was trying to be good, not evil. And
everything he did testified to his commitment to that change. Or his
lack of commitment. He knew that if he killed this boy, Phoebe and
the others would take it as a sign that he really wasn't committed to
becoming good.
Reluctantly, he released his grasp on the boy, and the Toby-
demon tumbled to the floor. As he did, he changed from his demonic
form to his totally human form.
"You're lucky, boy," said Belthazor. "If not for my word to
this girl and her father, I would have killed you."
He moved over and finished untying Martha as Toby sucked in deep
breaths of air. It would take him several minutes to return to
normal.
"Thank you," said Martha.
"I didn't have a choice," said Cole. "I gave you my word."
He moved over to Toby.
"But I only promised not to do violence during my stay here," he
said to the boy. "Once I leave, my promise to them is fulfilled. If
I should ever have to come this way again, I'll be free to finish what
I started here."
"No, no," stammered Toby, fear evident in his eyes, "that won't
be necessary. I'll be good. I promise. You have my word on that."
"See that you are," said Cole. "I don't want to hear about any
more strange disappearances. Or anything else like what happened
here. You may be powerful compared to them, but compared to most
demons; you're less than insignificant. I'll be keeping my eye on
this town. If I hear of anything else happening . . ."
"You won't, I promise," said Toby. "Can I go now?"
"Get out of here," said Cole. "And remember. I'll be watching.
Keep that in mind the next time you feel like you want to exert your
control over someone."
"I will, I promise," said Toby edging closer to the door.
When Cole didn't move to stop him, Toby turned and sprinted for
the car. Within seconds, he spun the car away from the cabin and was
speeding away. Cole just smiled to himself. Then he took Martha by
the hand and shimmered them both to her home.
* * *
"I appreciate what you did for Martha," said Rev. Chrichton.
"Although I'm sure she didn't tell me everything that happened, she
did say that you were the one who saved her. And that you were able
to do it without violence."
"Toby just needed someone to explain things to him," said Cole,
smiling coyly at Martha. "I guess no one ever told him it wasn't nice
to mistreat people the way he did."
"Well, maybe your little lecture will stick with him," said Rev.
Chrichton. "See, I told you that people respond to goodness. Even
those who perform evil acts. Love our neighbors. That's what we're
taught. Love can change even the worst person into a good person."
Cole didn't respond. Rev. Chrichton didn't know how right he
was. Phoebe's love for him had changed him from one of the most
feared demons in the underworld into someone who was trying to be
good. No small feat for anyone.
"I should be going," said Cole. "I've been here longer than I
planned to be."
"You're welcome any time," said Rev. Chrichton. "Well, I guess
I'll get started on the supper dishes. Martha, will you come help me
once you've seen Mr. Turner out?"
"Sure, daddy," said Martha.
Martha walked Cole to the front door, and then glanced back to
make sure her father had gone into the kitchen.
"I didn't tell him about you changing," said Martha. "I'm not
sure he'd believe me anyway. He believes that demons are more
allegorical than factual."
"They aren't," said Cole. "You've seen that firsthand."
"Yes, I have," said Martha. "Was it true what you told Toby?
Are you really one of the most powerful demons there is?"
"I was," said Cole. "But your father is right about one thing.
Love can do miraculous things. It's because of the love of a woman
that I changed. It's one of the reasons I came here. My former
employers are hunting me. This just happened to be a safe haven for
me for a few days."
"She must be quite a woman," said Martha.
"She is," said Cole. "You wouldn't believe how special."
"I can imagine," said Martha. "I hope you'll come back for a
visit some day. Once you have things worked out."
"I'll try," said Cole. "I can't promise anything, but I'll try.
And don't forget to mention my name to Toby on occasion. It might
give him the incentive to keep his promise to me."
"I'll do that," said Martha, smiling. "I don't think I've ever
seen him scared before. I have to admit, if I saw you; the other you;
coming after me, I'd be scared, too."
"You don't have to worry about that," said Cole. "I don't do
that any more. Well, I guess I'd better get going. The longer I'm
here, the more chance you could be put in danger again. I need to
move on."
"Come back when you can," said Martha, kissing him on the cheek.
"And thanks again for saving me."
"My pleasure," said Cole.
He turned and walked away from the house into the night. He
walked for several blocks, and then stepped into an alleyway. There
still hadn't been any sign of the demonic bounty hunters that were on
his trail. But it was only a matter of time before they caught up
with him. His only chance was to keep constantly on the move so they
couldn't get a fix on his location.
Quietly, Cole Turner shimmered out of the small town for an
unknown destination.
The End
If you've enjoyed this story, you can find more "Charmed"
stories at my website, www.geocities.com/killeenmale/ . You can also
post your own "Charmed" stories if you like to write fan fiction.
"COMMITMENT"
by J. B. Tilton
email: aramath@isot.com
Rating: PG (for mild language)
Disclaimer: "Charmed" and all related characters and events are
the property of the WB television network, except for those characters
specifically created for this story. This is a work of fan fiction
and no infringement of copyright is intended.
* * *
Author's note: This story takes place before season 3 episodes
"Coyote Piper" and "We All Scream For Ice Cream".
* * *
To avoid the bounty hunters looking for him after he destroys
the Triad, Cole shimmers to a small mid-western town. He hopes to
hide out there for a few days while he sorts things out.
Unfortunately, he becomes embroiled in a situation in the town that
will test his dedication to turning from evil to good.
* * *
ONE
Cole shimmered into the graveyard and stood looking around. He
watched intently, looking for any sign that he had been followed.
Confident that he had lost the bounty hunters for the moment, he
relaxed.
The past couple of weeks had been harrowing. Every demon, it
seemed, was out to make a name for themselves by destroying the
infamous Belthazor. After he had destroyed the Triad, word had
quickly spread about what he had done. Now the Source wanted him
dead. He was a traitor to his own kind and that was something the
Source simply could not tolerate.
"What the hell was I thinking?" he asked out loud.
Almost as soon as he asked it, he knew what the answer was.
Phoebe was what he was thinking. His love for her, and hers for him,
had proven stronger than the evil that was ever present in him.
Stronger than even the fear instilled by the Triad or the Source.
Their love had been the catalyst he had finally needed to overcome
that evil. To turn him to good.
But there was a price. He knew what that price was even before
he had destroyed the Triad. He was now a hunted man. And he would
continue to be hunted until, and unless, he could think of a way to
make the Source forget about him.
That's why he had come to this sleepy little mid-western town.
He had passed through here once before. It had been some seventy
years ago. From what he could tell, it hadn't changed all that much
since then. A small mid-western town very similar to thousands just
like it spread out all across the country. Only these towns had
something that would prove beneficial to him.
Or rather, they didn't have something. No demonic influence.
These small towns held little interest for demons, even the Source.
Oh, occasionally a minor demon would wreak havoc in towns like this.
But the upper level demons; the ones he had cause to fear; would not
think to look for him here.
But that wouldn't last long. In a matter of days some bounty
hunter would trace him here. Then, they would come for him. Well, he
had these few precious days. Phoebe, Piper, and Prue would be
relatively safe with him gone. At least he didn't have to worry about
a demon that was hunting him accidentally hurting them. They had
enough demons coming after them as it was. They didn't need him
adding to their lot by bringing even more demons to their door.
He looked into the sky. It would be sunrise soon. He couldn't
stay in the cemetery. Unlike San Francisco, this cemetery held no
mausoleum. He couldn't hide out there here. He would need to find
some other place to stay while he was in town.
That shouldn't prove much of a problem either, though. There
were bound to be some empty houses in town. Perhaps one even on the
outskirts of town where his comings and goings wouldn't be too
noticeable.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. Not
as much as he would have liked. But at least he had enough money to
last him a few days. Even if he was going to be a squatter for a few
days, he still needed to eat. Something he had once considered a
failing because of his human half. Now, eating seemed to bring him
closer to Phoebe.
He left the cemetery and walked into the town a short distance
away. Very few people would be up yet. He would be able to look
around and find the house he needed before anyone knew he was there.
With his ability to shimmer, no one would see him enter or leave.
Although he would have to keep his eyes open for any sign that the
demonic bounty hunters had found him.
TWO
Cole sat in a local diner eating breakfast. There had been no
empty houses for him to hide out in. There was, however, a small
motel along the highway in the town. Its' guests were usually
tourists who were simply passing through the small town for a night's
respite before continuing on to their destinations.
The town had changed little since Cole had been there last. It
was a little bigger, of course. Still, only a little less than two
thousand people called the town home. Located in southern of
Illinois. It was about as far from the demonic influenced San
Francisco as one could get. Cole should be relatively safe for
several days.
"You seem to be enjoying your meal a great deal."
Cole looked up to see the waitress refilling his coffee cup.
Her nametag read "Martha" and she was a very pretty blonde about
twenty years old.
"Yes," said Cole. "It's been a long time since I had a meal
this good. I spend a lot of time traveling."
"I see," said Martha. "I assume you're only staying for one
day. Most visitors don't stay much longer than that."
"No," said Cole, "actually, I'm going to be staying a few days.
Sort of a small vacation, you might say."
"Well, I hope you enjoy your stay," said Martha. "There really
isn't much to do around here, but it is quiet. Most of the time,
anyway."
"I'm just looking for a few days rest," said Cole.
Just then three young men about Martha's age came into the
diner. They were loud and boisterous and Cole had no trouble
identifying them. They would be the troublemakers of this small town.
Most small towns had them. Young men who weren't able to go off
in search of adventure as they wanted. Trapped in what they
considered the garbage heap of the world, they took their anger and
frustration out on whomever happened to be around.
"Great," said Martha. "Toby Stiles and his friends. Just what
I need this morning."
Cole went back to his meal, but kept his eyes on the young men.
The last thing he wanted was to get embroiled in some local trouble.
As long as they left him alone, he wouldn't bother them.
"Hey, Martha," said Toby, stepping in front of the young woman,
"how ya' doin'? I thought you and I could drive over to Mount Parker
tonight and catch a movie. You won't regret it, I promise."
'I regret even knowing you," Martha spat out. "And how many
times do I have to tell you, I'm not going out with you? You know
Mark and I are seeing each other. He'll be home this weekend and
we'll be going to the movies. So, no thanks."
"Come on," said Toby, grabbing her arm. "Mark's a wimp. You
need a real man. Like me. Jake and Peter here will tell you. I'm
enough man for any woman. Especially the pathetic ones who live
around here. Forget Mark already. He's a looser."
"Toby Stiles," said Martha, anger in her voice, "I don't care if
your father does own half the land around here. I'm not interested.
Leave me alone."
"Hey, babe," said Toby, pulling her closer to him, "you just
haven't had a taste of what you're missing."
"Not interested," said Martha, trying to pull away from him.
"Bitch," said Toby. He slapped her across the face. "No one
turns down Toby Stiles, no one. Least of all some little tramp
daughter of the local minister. Come on. You're taking the morning
off."
Toby began to pull the young woman toward the door. Cole looked
around and was surprised to see that no one was even attempting to
intervene. Even the men in the diner seemed to become intensely
interested in their own meals. As Toby and Martha reached his table,
Cole stuck his foot out stopping them both in their tracks.
"Why not let her go?" he said, looking up at the young man.
"She's busy at the moment."
"Mind your own business," said Toby.
Cole stood up. The two were looking eye to eye with each other.
The young man seemed to be a bit more muscular than Cole was, but that
didn't bother him. He was, after all, only a human. There were few
humans that Cole feared.
"I said," said Cole, pulling Martha away from Toby, "let her go.
She's obviously not interested in your advances. You should learn to
take a hint."
The young man reached for Cole. Cole simply stepped to one side
and grabbed the young man's wrist, pulling him off balance. Toby went
flying across the room, colliding with his two friends.
"Oh, that was stupid," said Toby. "Three against one. Not very
good odds, really."
"You're right," said Cole, stepping between Martha and the three
boys. "Maybe I should let you go get some more of your friends so it
will be more fair."
"Real funny," said Toby. "I'm going to make you eat those
words, mister. No one comes into this town and puts their hands on
Toby Stiles, no one. You're going to be real sorry you ever stopped
in here."
"Is there a problem here?" asked a voice from the front door.
Everyone turned to see a man about thirty standing in the
doorway. He was wearing a police uniform.
"No, no problem, John," said Toby. "Just having a friendly
conversation, that's all. Come on Jake, Peter. Let's get out of
here."
The three men turned and pushed their way past the officer. He
watched as they piled into a car and peeled out, streaking down the
street, running through a stop sign.
"You okay, Martha?" asked the policeman.
"I'm fine," said Martha. "This gentleman helped me. If not for
him, I'm not sure what would have happened."
"Thanks," said the policeman. "I'm John Harper, the local law
enforcement. Sorry you had to see that. Toby and his friends can get
out of hand sometimes."
"Cole Turner," said Cole, shaking John's hand. "You should
arrest that Toby. He hit Martha. Everyone in here saw it. You'd
have an open and shut case for battery."
"I appreciate the advice," said John. "Martha, you want to file
a complaint?"
"N . . . no," stammered Martha. "It was nothing. I think he
had been drinking. I'll be okay."
"It wasn't nothing," protested Cole. "No one has the right to
go around hitting someone else, least of all some overbearing pompous
ass like that. If she won't file a complaint, I will as a witness."
"And just who might you be, Mr. Cole Turner?" asked John.
"I'm an assistant district attorney in San Francisco," said
Cole. "I was . . . on my way east to visit some family."
"Well," said John, "if you really want to file a complaint, I
guess I can't stop you. But I have to tell you, it probably won't do
any good."
"Please, Mr. Turner," pleaded Martha. "Don't cause any trouble.
Officer Harper is right. Even if you file a complaint, Toby won't
spend one day in jail. His father will see to that. Just let it go.
Please."
Cole couldn't believe what he was hearing. No one seemed to
want to hold this young man responsible for his actions. He had
already proven he had no compunction about striking a woman. There
was no telling what else he was capable of. And no one seemed to want
to do anything about it.
THREE
"Thank you for coming to the aid of my daughter," said Martha's
father. "I appreciate what you did for her."
Reverend Chrichton had invited Cole into his home after Officer
Harper had given them a ride to Martha's home. Being half demon, Cole
was a bit uncomfortable being in the home of a minister. But he
decided it was best if he didn't make them any more suspicious than
necessary.
"It's a good thing Harper showed up when he did," said Cole.
"That young Stiles needs to be taught a lesson."
"Please, I would appreciate it if you would forget about it,"
said Rev. Chrichton. "Our church doesn't believe in violence. For
any reason. If you repay his violence with more violence, it would
contravene the very tenant of our faith.
"He attacked your daughter," protested Cole. "I'm sure if I
hadn't intervened, he would have done a great deal worse than that.
He should be locked up."
"It's not our way," said Rev. Chrichton. "We believe in
repaying evil with good. I'm sure that with a little Christian
kindness, he'll eventually come around. We just have to show him that
he is misguided."
"Yeah, misguided," said Cole, sarcastically. "Listen, I don't
mean to ridicule your religion, but he's more than misguided. Believe
me, I've seen more like him than I can remember. He's not misguided.
He's simply bad. If you don't do something about it now, you're going
to have some real trouble on your hands. And it won't take long
either."
"I'm not offended," said Rev. Chrichton. "Most people don't
accept our beliefs to the degree that we do. It's nothing new to us."
"All the same," said Cole, "that boy needs to be locked up.
He's dangerous. All Martha has to do is swear out a complaint on
him."
"It wouldn't do any good," said Martha. "Mr. Stiles would just
use his money and influence to get Toby out of any trouble he gets
into. He always has. It's the main reason Toby can do whatever he
wants. His father always covers for him."
"What about the police?' asked Cole. "Harper seemed to be
willing to do something about it. He just needs someone to file a
complaint."
"If he did," said Martha, "Mr. Stiles will just see that he
loses his job. The police around here are just tokens. There's
really nothing they can do about it."
"What about the state officials?" asked Cole. "Surely they can
do something about him."
"I'm afraid not," said Rev. Chrichton. "Everyone is afraid of
him. No one will testify against him. A couple of citizens tried to
a couple of years ago, but they just disappeared one day. And, of
course, there was no evidence implicating Stiles or anyone who worked
for him."
"Great," said Cole. "So you have to live under his totalitarian
control, is that it? That's intolerable. Why do you stay here? Why
don't you move someplace else?'
"This is our home," said Rev. Chrichton. "Where else would we
go? As I said, I'm sure that if we show them enough love and
kindness, they will eventually change their ways."
"I'm not as optimistic," said Cole.
"Please, promise me," said Rev. Chrichton, "that you will not do
anything to provoke them. Especially because of us. I simply cannot
condone any form of violence, especially in my name. As I said, we do
not believe in violence. For any reason."
"Okay," said Cole reluctantly. "I don't plan to be in town very
long anyway. But I think you're making a mistake. Sometimes the only
way to show people the error of their ways is to punish them for what
they do."
"Perhaps," said Rev. Chrichton. "But I would ask that you
respect my wishes in this matter."
"All right," said Cole. "Well, I should be getting back to the
motel. I stopped in this town for some peace and quiet. All I want
to do is rest up and take it easy."
"Thank you," said Rev. Chrichton. "I appreciate your restraint.
Can I give you a ride back to the motel?"
"No, thanks," said Cole. "I think I'll walk. It's a nice day
out."
As Cole left the Chrichton parsonage, he couldn't help but
wonder about Martha's father. A minister, of all people, should see
the value in punishing people when it was necessary. If Rev.
Chrichton had only known about Cole's heritage, he might just sing a
different tune from the one he was singing with Cole.
Cole spent the rest of the day relaxing in his motel room. He
watched television, wondering what people actually saw in it. Most of
the shows were nonsensical things that rarely portrayed life as it
really was. The good guys always won and everything was resolved in
the end. Cole knew this was rarely the case. Evil won a great deal
more than most people cared to admit. Perhaps, he thought, it was a
way to escape the humdrum monotony of their daily lives, if even for a
few moments.
The next day, Cole stopped in at the local grocery store. The
small town only had one, and, of course, it saw a great deal of
business. Apparently the town wasn't large enough to warrant a
convenience store. Cole had decided to pick up something to snack on
in his room at night.
There still hadn't been any sign of the bounty hunters he knew
must surely be after him. The Source wouldn't allow him to remain at
large for long. As long as he kept a low profile, he figured he could
avoid them almost indefinitely. He dared not risk contacting Phoebe
to tell her he was okay. He couldn't take the chance that someone
might find out where he was through her.
As he walked out of the small grocery store, he saw Toby Stiles
across the street. He was apparently talking to a young girl that
looked to be no older than thirteen or fourteen. The young girl
appeared to be trying to get away from Toby, but he continually
blocked her path.
Cautiously, Cole crossed the street and walked up behind Toby.
What he heard sickened him. After his miserable failure with Martha,
Toby had set his sights on other prey. And his new prey was nothing
more than a child.
"Hey there," said Cole.
Toby was startled. He spun around and glared at Cole while Cole
just smiled at him. Seeing possibly her only chance to escape, the
young girl turned and ran down the street as fast as her legs would
carry her.
"Just wanted to let you know there were no hard feelings about
the other day," said Cole still smiling at Toby.
Toby glanced over his shoulder and, seeing his prey eluding him,
became irate. He turned back to Cole, anger in his eyes.
"You need to mind your own business, mister," said Toby. "Bad
things happen to people around here who don't mind their own
business."
"I'm not worried," said Cole. "I doubt you'd pose a serious
threat to me."
"I might just surprise you," said Toby. "Cross my path again,
and you'll get your chance. And it won't be pretty."
Toby turned and stormed off down the street. As he was speaking
to Cole, the smile faded from Cole's face. Suddenly, Cole had lost
his sense of humor in the matter. It had nothing to do with Toby's
threat. Cole had heard his share of boisterous threats before. This
seemed no different from the others.
But something else had caused Cole's smile to fade. A nagging
thought that, perhaps, he had underestimated this "boy". Perhaps,
Toby Stiles wasn't what he appeared to be. If that was true, Cole
realized he might have a serious problem on his hands.
As Toby had voiced his threat to Cole, his eyes glowed slightly.
That could mean only one thing. Toby Stiles wasn't human. He was, in
all likelihood, a demon, just as Cole was. If he was, that meant the
Source might already know where Cole was hiding out.
FOUR
Cole looked out the window of his motel room for the thousandth
time. He couldn't understand it. There had been no sign of any demon
bounty hunters coming for him. If Toby was a demon, the Source should
have been informed by now. At the very least, Toby might try to take
Cole himself, to curry favor with the Source and bolster his
reputation in the underworld. The demon that took out Belthazor would
gain great prestige among his contemporaries.
Unless Toby was not a demon. His flashing eyes could have meant
something else. Some warlocks used that little trick. It wasn't easy
for a warlock to do, but with practice, it could be done. There were
also some other entities whose eyes flashed, but none he could think
of that would bother with this little hamburg.
Things just didn't add up. Even a demon wouldn't find anything
of interest in this little nothing of a town. At least not for very
long. The young girls here would provide a moments diversion from the
pursuit of evil. But none would remain long; not long enough to
remain in this town apparently as long as Toby had.
And Toby hadn't exhibited any special powers, even when Cole had
intervened at the diner. Everyone was obviously afraid of this young
man. Even men who were much bigger and, presumably, much stronger.
Even with his two friends around, there should be someone who was
willing to stand up against him. Which meant there must be something
about him that Cole didn't know.
That would be his first priority. He had to learn about Toby.
He had to find out if he was a demon or warlock or some other entity.
He couldn't risk leaving this town until he was sure who, or what,
Toby was. And what he might have told someone else. Without that
knowledge, Cole couldn't be sure he was effectively avoiding the
bounty hunters that were trailing him.
But where to start was the question. Other than being afraid of
this young man, no one seemed to know about any powers he might have.
Or at least they were afraid to talk about them. He thought about
asking Martha and her father but discounted that. Rev. Chrichton
seemed to be oblivious to the evil in this young man. And Martha
didn't seem interested in learning anything about Toby.
It was painfully obvious to Cole what he had to do. The best
place to learn about Toby was to go to the source, so to speak. If
anyone had information on Toby, it would be his father. The man
obviously cared about his son a great deal. Perhaps too much. Enough
to step in and protect him from any trouble he might get into.
But that was a risk as well. If Toby was a demon, his father
might be too. Or his mother might be. In any case, if Cole revealed
himself to one of them, they might contact the Source where Toby
hadn't.
Cole checked the phone book and found the address for one Mr.
Charles Stiles. It was the only Stiles in the book, so he was
reasonably sure that would be Toby's father. He decided he could risk
a short shimmer to the house. He would have to be constantly on his
guard.
Cole looked out in the parking lot to make sure no one was out
there. Then he shimmered out of the motel room. He appeared in the
hallway of what appeared to be a mansion. It was elaborately
decorated with expensive furniture, paintings, and carpet. Obviously,
Mr. Stiles was as wealthy as he'd been led to believe. He heard
voices coming from a doorway down the hall. Cautiously, he moved to
the door and listened intently.
"He's going through his bank account faster than ever, sir,"
said a voice inside the room. "In the last six months his
expenditures have nearly doubled."
"I don't care," said another voice. "You have your orders.
Just keep enough money in the account so my son doesn't have to come
here. I DON'T want him in this house, do you understand that?"
"Yes, Mr. Stiles," said the first voice. "I'll make
arrangements to transfer more money into the account first thing in
the morning."
Cole heard movement in the room. He stepped back against the
wall, obscuring himself in the darkness. The door opened and a man
dressed in a three-piece suit carrying a briefcase left the room.
Cole waited until he heard the front door open, then close, and then
he stepped out of the shadows.
There had been fear in Stiles' voice. It would appear that he
was as afraid of his own son as everyone else was. Which didn't make
sense. If Toby were a demon, he would have inherited his demonic
features from one of his parents. Why would the father be afraid of
the son? Presumably, the father would be more powerful than the son.
Things were just getting crazier by the minute. Cole looked
around the house again. It was deathly quiet. No sound emanated from
the surrounding rooms. Cole took a deep breath, and then opened the
door to the room where Stiles was. He entered quickly and closed the
door behind him.
"Who are you?" demanded Stiles, sitting behind a large oak desk.
"How did you get in here?"
"That's not important," said Cole. "We need to have a talk, Mr.
Stiles. About your son."
"My son?" questioned Stiles.
Cole could see fear in the mans' eyes. He saw the man slowly
reach into an open desk drawer. It didn't take a genius to figure out
what he was doing. He obviously kept a gun in the draw for
protection. Protection against intruders, just like Cole.
"That won't do you any good," said Cole, flashing his eyes at
the man.
"Oh, God," gasped the man. "You another one. Like him.
Please, don't hurt me. I've got money. I can pay you anything you
want. I haven't told anyone about him, I swear. Please, don't hurt
me. I don't want to die."
"You're not going to die," said Cole, sitting down in one of the
chairs in front of the desk. "I just want some information. What did
you mean 'I'm like him'? Do you mean your son?"
"Y . . . yes," stammered Stiles. "My son can flash his eyes
like that."
"Listen," said Cole, "I just want to find out what's going on
here. I don't have anything against you and I have no intention of
harming you. But I need to know about your son. Just give me the
information I need, and you'll never see me again."
"Okay," said Stiles, still very nervous. "What . . . what do
you want to know?"
"What is he?" asked Cole. "It's obvious you're afraid of him.
So is everyone else. What is it about him that makes everyone so
fearful of him?"
"Because he's a demon," said Stiles. "I never believed the
legends, really. Then, when he was sixteen, he developed powers. Not
even I could control him after that. No one could. He turned mean
after that."
"What legends?" asked Cole.
"About this town," said Stiles. "It was settled around 1817 or
so. Local legend holds that it was a place of great evil. Even the
Indians avoided it. But the settlers who came here didn't believe the
legends or rumors.
"A few years after they settled here, one of the young girls
reported being raped. By a demon that encountered her in the woods.
The town's people searched but they couldn't find anything. They
eventually decided the girl had hallucinated everything except the
rape.
"That girl was one of my ancestors. Nine months later she gave
birth to a baby boy. The boy seemed normal in all respects. Except
he began to develop special gifts. Nothing drastic. Since then, the
men in our family have all been born with unusual talents.
"Me, for instance. I have an instinctive feeling in business
dealings. I can tell when someone is lying to me or trying to screw
with me. It doesn't work so well in my personal life, but when it
comes to business it never fails."
"But it's different with Toby?" asked Cole.
"Yes," said Stiles. "His mother died giving birth. I was
beginning to think he hadn't inherited any abilities. It happens
occasionally. It can skip a generation. That's what I thought had
happened here."
"But it hadn't," offered Cole.
"No," said Stiles. "Around his sixteenth birthday he began to
exhibit abilities I had never heard of. I know it sounds crazy, but
he can throw fire. I lost most of the servants that work here. He
incinerated a couple of them when they made him mad. Most of the
others left after that."
"Why didn't the police do anything about it?" asked Cole.
"Oh, they investigated," said Stiles. "But there weren't any
bodies. And the ones who reported it just sort of seemed to
disappear. Like they just moved off somewhere. No one knew where.
Without any witnesses or evidence, there wasn't anything the police
could do."
"I see," said Cole. "But you keep covering for him. Some of
the townspeople told me. Whenever he gets into trouble, you use your
money and influence to protect him."
"Not him," said Stiles, "me. He threatened me, you see. He
said if I didn't protect him, I'd disappear just like those witnesses.
Believe me, mister, I believe him. He may be my own son, but there's
no humanity in him. And with his special abilities, there's no one
who can stop him."
"That's why you provide him with money," said Cole. "To keep
him from coming here."
"Yes," said Stiles. "As long as I keep his account full, he
stays away. It's better that way. I don't have to deal with him."
"But the townspeople do," said Cole. "You're not solving
anything this way. You're just pushing the problem off on to someone
else. Someone who doesn't have the ability to protect themselves
against him."
"And I do?" questioned Stiles. "Listen, mister. I don't know
who you are. But that boy is very dangerous. I'm just protecting
myself. I don't have any choice. If I die, he'll inherit my entire
estate. At least this way I can keep him on some sort of leash. I
give him just enough money to live on. But not enough to go anywhere.
His evil is limited to this town instead of inflicting it on some
unsuspecting metropolis somewhere. God knows what kind of trouble he
could cause there."
Cole knew exactly what kind of trouble he could cause. He had
learned what he came here to learn. Without another word, Cole stood
up and left the room. Once out of sight of Stiles, he shimmered back
to his room at the motel.
FIVE
Cole sat in his motel room thinking about his conversation with
Stiles. He had learned quite a bit. Toby wasn't a demon, per se. He
was apparently descended from a demon. It was anyone's guess which
one.
But it also meant that other demons wouldn't give Toby the time
of day. Even though he had obviously inherited some powers from his
ancestor, those powers would be severely diluted because of so many
years of being carried in a human body. Against a true demon, he
would be less than an annoyance.
But against other humans, his power would seem considerable.
Which was how he was able to keep up his reign of terror. He was,
essentially, a spoiled brat who thought of only his current momentary
pleasure. Which also explained why Mr. Stiles was still alive. As
soon as Toby figured out what was going on, he'd kill his father and
inherit the man's wealth.
It also explained why Cole hadn't sensed any demonic presence in
the small town. Toby wasn't really a demon. He only possessed
demonic powers. At least, to a degree. The only way Cole would sense
that power was when Toby was using it and then only if he was close
by.
Which meant that Cole was in no danger of being exposed by this
boy. No self-respecting demon would associate with him. If anything,
he would be considered even lower than a human. He was a bastardized
offspring of a demon. Belthazor had been accepted, even with his
human ancestry, because he had been extremely powerful And extremely
ruthless. He had proven himself to be a great asset to the forces of
evil time and again.
If Toby did try to contact a demon to report Cole being there,
that demon would more than likely just destroy him without even
listening to him. So Cole was as safe as before in this town. His
only concerns were the bounty hunters that were still looking for him.
Two more days went by and Cole saw little of the would-be demon.
He was just as glad. The boy was an arrogant punk who would certainly
try to "flex" his demonic muscles again in an attempt to impress Cole.
It was something Cole had little use for and even less patience.
He was sitting in his room watching yet another senseless
television show when there was a knock at his door. Cautiously, he
peered out the curtains at the window. Standing at the door was
Officer Harper.
"Officer Harper," said Cole, "what brings you around here?"
"Well," said Harper, "I was just wondering if you had seen
Martha. The two of you seem to have become friends and she didn't
show up at work today. Her boss got worried and asked me to see if I
could find her."
"No, I haven't seen her," said Cole. "I haven't been out of my
room all morning. You think there's anything to be worried about?"
"Probably not," said Harper. "Toby Stiles was hassling her at
the diner again last night. I thought she might have come by here to
scare him off. She's probably out with one of her friends. Sorry to
have bothered you."
"She isn't at home?" asked Cole.
"No, that's the first place I checked," said Harper. "Her
father was under the impression she had gone to work. I'll keep
checking. If you hear anything, please let me know."
"Yes, of course," said Cole.
After the officer left, Cole sat thinking about Martha being
missing. Toby had been pretty set on going out with her. Even if she
didn't want to. He couldn't believe it was simply coincidence that
she mysteriously disappeared right after Toby had hassled her.
Cole hurried out of his room and down to the diner. The owner
couldn't tell him much. She was scheduled to be at work an hour ago.
But she had simply not shown up. It was, he said, very unlike her.
She was always so prompt and dependable. Unlike Officer Harper, he
was not so sure she had gone off with a friend.
Cole stepped into an alley and looked around. No one was
looking. Quietly, he shimmered to the Stiles residence. Once inside,
he quickly located Mr. Stiles.
"Do you have any idea where Toby is right now?" demanded Cole.
"N . . . no," stammered Stiles. "I told you the other day, I
have very little contact with my son."
"I see," said Cole. "Do you know of any place he might want to
be alone? Some place secluded and out of the way."
"We have a cabin a few miles from here," said Stiles. "Haven't
used it much since Toby's mother died. He usually uses it for his
drinking parties. It sits on a lake where we used to go fishing."
"Exactly where is it?" asked Cole.
Stiles pulled a map out of his desk and showed Cole where the
cabin was located. Cole left the room and, making sure he was alone,
shimmered out of the house.
The cabin was very secluded. Thick woods surrounded it and he
imagined that unless you knew where to look, you'd never see it from
the road. It was the perfect place to hide someone.
A car sat in front of the cabin. It was the same car that Toby
and his friends had driven away in the first day Cole had met them.
He walked over and felt the hood of the car. It was still warm.
Which meant they hadn't been there long.
Cole quietly moved up to the door of the cabin and listened. He
could hear voices inside. Three, perhaps four people. And one of
them sounded female. Apparently Toby and his friends had brought
Martha here. Probably against her will. And Cole had no delusions
about their plans for her. He took hold of the door handle and opened
the door, then walked right into the cabin.
Martha was sitting in a chair in the center of the room. She
was bound by her wrists and ankles. Toby and his two friends circled
her like hungry vultures. They all looked up at him in surprise as he
burst into the scene.
"What the hell are you doing here?" demanded Toby.
"Rev. Chrichton is worried about Martha," said Cole
nonchalantly. "I thought I'd just make sure she got home okay."
"I don't think so," said Toby. He reached into his belt and
pulled out a pistol, pointing it directly at Cole. "I warned you
about messing with me. Now, it seems I'll have to take care of you.
Too bad. If you had just minded your own business, I'd have let you
live. Now, I'm afraid I don't have any other choice."
He cocked the pistol, and then fired directly at Cole's head.
SIX
Cole simply shimmered, then was gone. The four humans looked in
stunned disbelief as the bullet hit the doorframe where Cole had stood
only a second before. Before any of them could react, Cole shimmered
in behind Toby. He reached around the boy and pulled the gun out of
his hand.
"That wasn't very nice," said Cole, shoving Toby toward his two
friends. "Someone could get hurt that way."
"How the hell did you do that?" demanded Peter, one of Toby's
friends.
"It's not hard," said Cole. He shoved the gun into his belt and
began to untie Martha. "A little trick I've picked up on my travels."
"Well, it won't save you," said Toby. "You should have heeded
my warning. You must be some kind of fool if you think you're any
match for me."
"Why?" asked Cole sarcastically. "Because you flashed your eyes
at me? Please. Any third rate magician can do that trick."
"I'm not a third rate magician," said Toby.
Suddenly, Toby changed. His ears became pointed and his skin
took on a bluish tint. His eyes looked like a cat's eyes. Two
oversized fang-like teeth sprouted from his mouth. While he did have
a frightening appearance, he reminded Cole more of a minor underling
than any demonic threat.
"I tried to warn you," he said to Cole. "You obviously have no
idea who or what you're dealing with."
"Your father told me about you," said Cole. "And if you think
that frightens me, you obviously have no idea who you're dealing
with."
"What's that supposed to mean?" demanded Toby.
"Because I'm what you only pretend to be," said Cole.
Suddenly, Cole changed as well. Belthazor stood in his place
looking down on the boy as if he were a trapped animal.
"You pathetic worm," said Belthazor. "Do you think that you are
any match for a true demon? Your lineage has been watered down by
decades of mingling with human genes. Your power is less than
insignificant to me."
"Well just see about that," said Toby.
Toby formed a ball of fire in his hand. He cast it at
Belthazor. When it struck, it covered Belthazor in flames for several
seconds, and then dissipated harmlessly away. Belthazor just smiled
at Toby.
"Is that supposed to impress me?" demanded Belthazor. "You're
nothing but a child compared to me. An inexperienced child. I've
destroyed more powerful creatures than you with less trouble than it
takes to form a fireball. My name is Belthazor and there are few
demons as powerful as I am."
Belthazor reached out with his clawed hand and grabbed the Toby-
demon by the throat. He raised the boy off the floor so that his feet
dangled helplessly in the air. Peter and Jake had had enough of this
encounter. They turned and ran from the cabin as fast as their feet
could carry them, not even bothering to get in the car. They simply
ran through the woods in an attempt to escape a true demon.
"It's ironic, really," said Belthazor. "You were never a threat
to me. If you had just left me alone, I wouldn't have bothered with
you. But you had to make it personal. No one attacks Belthazor and
lives."
Toby grabbed at the hand around his throat. Even his demonic
form did not possess the necessary strength to remove the strangle
hold Belthazor possessed. Toby gasped for air fighting desperately to
escape this demon.
"Mr. Turner," said Martha, "don't hurt him. You made a promise
to my father. I'm holding you to that promise. No violence in our
name, remember? Please, let him go."
"Do you have any idea what he planned to do with you?" asked
Belthazor.
"I can guess," said Martha. "But that doesn't justify what
you're doing. We don't return evil for evil. Please, if your word to
my father means anything, let him go."
Belthazor looked at the Toby-demon, then at Martha. Although a
demon, he had always prided himself on keeping his word. His
experience had taught him that this boy would say anything to spare
his life. Most likely, he would go right back to the way he was when
Cole had first encountered him. He was convinced he should strangle
the life out of the Toby-demon, despite his promise to Martha's
father.
Then he thought of Phoebe. What would she think when she
learned what he had done? He was trying to be good, not evil. And
everything he did testified to his commitment to that change. Or his
lack of commitment. He knew that if he killed this boy, Phoebe and
the others would take it as a sign that he really wasn't committed to
becoming good.
Reluctantly, he released his grasp on the boy, and the Toby-
demon tumbled to the floor. As he did, he changed from his demonic
form to his totally human form.
"You're lucky, boy," said Belthazor. "If not for my word to
this girl and her father, I would have killed you."
He moved over and finished untying Martha as Toby sucked in deep
breaths of air. It would take him several minutes to return to
normal.
"Thank you," said Martha.
"I didn't have a choice," said Cole. "I gave you my word."
He moved over to Toby.
"But I only promised not to do violence during my stay here," he
said to the boy. "Once I leave, my promise to them is fulfilled. If
I should ever have to come this way again, I'll be free to finish what
I started here."
"No, no," stammered Toby, fear evident in his eyes, "that won't
be necessary. I'll be good. I promise. You have my word on that."
"See that you are," said Cole. "I don't want to hear about any
more strange disappearances. Or anything else like what happened
here. You may be powerful compared to them, but compared to most
demons; you're less than insignificant. I'll be keeping my eye on
this town. If I hear of anything else happening . . ."
"You won't, I promise," said Toby. "Can I go now?"
"Get out of here," said Cole. "And remember. I'll be watching.
Keep that in mind the next time you feel like you want to exert your
control over someone."
"I will, I promise," said Toby edging closer to the door.
When Cole didn't move to stop him, Toby turned and sprinted for
the car. Within seconds, he spun the car away from the cabin and was
speeding away. Cole just smiled to himself. Then he took Martha by
the hand and shimmered them both to her home.
* * *
"I appreciate what you did for Martha," said Rev. Chrichton.
"Although I'm sure she didn't tell me everything that happened, she
did say that you were the one who saved her. And that you were able
to do it without violence."
"Toby just needed someone to explain things to him," said Cole,
smiling coyly at Martha. "I guess no one ever told him it wasn't nice
to mistreat people the way he did."
"Well, maybe your little lecture will stick with him," said Rev.
Chrichton. "See, I told you that people respond to goodness. Even
those who perform evil acts. Love our neighbors. That's what we're
taught. Love can change even the worst person into a good person."
Cole didn't respond. Rev. Chrichton didn't know how right he
was. Phoebe's love for him had changed him from one of the most
feared demons in the underworld into someone who was trying to be
good. No small feat for anyone.
"I should be going," said Cole. "I've been here longer than I
planned to be."
"You're welcome any time," said Rev. Chrichton. "Well, I guess
I'll get started on the supper dishes. Martha, will you come help me
once you've seen Mr. Turner out?"
"Sure, daddy," said Martha.
Martha walked Cole to the front door, and then glanced back to
make sure her father had gone into the kitchen.
"I didn't tell him about you changing," said Martha. "I'm not
sure he'd believe me anyway. He believes that demons are more
allegorical than factual."
"They aren't," said Cole. "You've seen that firsthand."
"Yes, I have," said Martha. "Was it true what you told Toby?
Are you really one of the most powerful demons there is?"
"I was," said Cole. "But your father is right about one thing.
Love can do miraculous things. It's because of the love of a woman
that I changed. It's one of the reasons I came here. My former
employers are hunting me. This just happened to be a safe haven for
me for a few days."
"She must be quite a woman," said Martha.
"She is," said Cole. "You wouldn't believe how special."
"I can imagine," said Martha. "I hope you'll come back for a
visit some day. Once you have things worked out."
"I'll try," said Cole. "I can't promise anything, but I'll try.
And don't forget to mention my name to Toby on occasion. It might
give him the incentive to keep his promise to me."
"I'll do that," said Martha, smiling. "I don't think I've ever
seen him scared before. I have to admit, if I saw you; the other you;
coming after me, I'd be scared, too."
"You don't have to worry about that," said Cole. "I don't do
that any more. Well, I guess I'd better get going. The longer I'm
here, the more chance you could be put in danger again. I need to
move on."
"Come back when you can," said Martha, kissing him on the cheek.
"And thanks again for saving me."
"My pleasure," said Cole.
He turned and walked away from the house into the night. He
walked for several blocks, and then stepped into an alleyway. There
still hadn't been any sign of the demonic bounty hunters that were on
his trail. But it was only a matter of time before they caught up
with him. His only chance was to keep constantly on the move so they
couldn't get a fix on his location.
Quietly, Cole Turner shimmered out of the small town for an
unknown destination.
The End
If you've enjoyed this story, you can find more "Charmed"
stories at my website, www.geocities.com/killeenmale/ . You can also
post your own "Charmed" stories if you like to write fan fiction.