A/N: Takes place shortly after season five's A Witch's Tail. Most of this story is very Cole-centric. If you don't like Cole or stories involving Cole then you probably won't like mine. Cole might be OOC but I'm trying my best to keep everyone in-character. This chapter is, more or less, a simple introduction and serves as a prologue to the rest of the story. The chapters will get longer, hopefully, and better detailed.

Demonic Blue

Chapter One — Releasing Phoebe

"The truth is, unless you let go, unless you forgive yourself, unless you forgive the situation, unless you realize that the situation is over, you cannot move forward." — Steve Maraboli, Unapologetically You: Reflections on Life and the Human Experience.

"I'm saying you need to leave. It'll do you both some good," Paige said, crossing her arms. The setting sun coming in from Cole's apartment only highlighted the youngest Charmed Ones' pale skin, and Cole, who had turned to address the invading witch, had stopped to momentarily stare. He hadn't realized just how … pale the woman was.

Smiling slyly, he swiftly retorted, "You haven't seen much sun. Are you spending all your off hours in the underworld?"

"Ha, ha, very funny." Paige rolled her eyes and cocked her hip to one side. She turned her eyes back to the half-demon, squinting, eyebrow arched. "So …" she trailed off, bluntly glancing at the sleek packed suitcases on Cole's impeccably made bed. With a half sigh, half laugh, he leaned against one of the windows, throwing up a hand and shrugging one shoulder. "I've already gone over this," Paige announced with a groan. "Phoebe may still love you, but you're causing her pain-hell you're causing all of us pain."

Cole closed his eyes briefly before opening them again. "Yeah, I know." Paige stopped, her mouth halfway open to continue talking.

It didn't take her long to recover. "If you know, then do everyone a favor, and leave us alone. Go disappear in one of your dimensional plains." She waved her hand to the side erratically, trying to show she didn't care where he went, just as long as it wasn't where they were. "What changed your mind anyway? I thought you were all for obsessing over Phoebe."

Cole pushed away from the wall and paced the length of the room in silence. Finally, he opened his mouth and spoke the things he hadn't dared dwell on when he first felt them-he had been too ecstatic to feel Phoebe's love for him. He hadn't noticed the bad ones until the connection had been severed. "I felt it in her heart. There was love, but there was also hatred for what I am, for what I've done. She wants me gone or at least a part of her does." His body sagged, his legs stopped working and he was left standing in front of her, the energy he previously had stripped away from him.

"It would be good for the both of you if you left." This time Paige truly believed it.

"I hope you're right, Paige." Cole turned and shimmered away, leaving the pale witch alone in the now empty apartment.

Cole had spent years surrounded by demons, half-demons, and all kinds of demonic beings but he never felt like he belonged until he met Phoebe, her sisters, and even Leo. He had felt like he was in a family. A family of witches he had been sent to kill mind you but something grew there, something he lacked with his own mother.

Absentmindedly, he picked up a paintbrush loaded with light green paint and, with a long smooth motion, covered the last of the faded white wood. Cole felt ... conflicted. It was one less thing he couldn't obsess over, one less thing to push the thoughts of Phoebe away. The house itself was the first project and, though it took longer than the fence, hadn't taken as much time as he previously thought it would.

"Damn it," he muttered, roughly running a paint splattered hand through his hair. One more project. Just one more and he'd have nothing to distract him. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, the weight of eyes on him. Slowly, with practiced ease, he stood from his crouch and turned, the hand hidden from view crackling with blue energy.

An elder woman smiled up at him with naivety. Mortal. Cole clutched his hand and smothered the energy ball before she took notice of it. "Hello," she said, her voice trembling with age. She stood near the back door of the house, using the side as a crutch to keep her balance. The wind, warm and mild, ruffled through her white curly hair

Cole blinked in confusion and gave her an awkward smile in return. Before he could think of responding, the back door flew open and two more strangers fled into the yard. The three began talking in hushed tones, the two younger ones noticeably shaky and worried. The old woman looked bothered and her face fell into an unpleasant frown.

"Stop your squawking. I'm not about to go dying because I want to meet the new neighbor." The old woman pushed the two men and walked closer to Cole who was, up to this point, silently hoping they'd just leave. "I'm Debra Brown. These two hooligans are my grandkids."

"Um, Cole Turner. Why are you-"

"Anyway, I just wanted to come over and say welcome to the neighborhood. We don't often get fresh blood here so I expect you to be at our grill out tomorrow night to meet everyone else."

Wasn't this what he wanted? A distraction to keep him from packing everything up and going back to Phoebe? It was laughable that this little old lady chatterbox would be the thing he was looking for. On either side of Debra, the two men looked at him apologetically. Cole forced a smile.

"What the hell? Sure, I'll be there." Inwardly, he added a half-hearted maybe. He had every intention to go, of course, for the everyday mundane talk. That kind of talk was numbing when he was human. It was the one thing he hadn't missed when he retained his demonic half.

Debra grinned and casually walked out, the other two mortals following closely behind. This time she went through the freshly painted gate.

Cole watched them leave, the fake smile slowly fading. He glanced down at the gate and bent to pick up the paintbrush. With short, easy strokes, he covered where the old woman had touched the still wet paint.

And it was done. His mind began to wander back to her. Her brown hair, her large eyes, her tanned skin, her banter ...

He stood, eyes clenched tightly closed, trying (and failing) to get the memories of her out of his head. Releasing Phoebe would be much harder than he thought.