When Penny Halliwell first learned she was pregnant she cried. Although those tears were for so many reasons, represented so many emotions, they were tears all the same. She remembered them running down her cheeks like rain would against a cold window, ambling slowly before gaining speed as they increased in number, racing and colliding to the finish line at the point of her chin. She remembered her latest husband, Paul, kissing the tears away with the warmth of his lips, as she stood at the bathroom door, the pregnancy test resting against the counter top stripped with pink, the packaging thrown randomly about the floor behind her. She remembered him asking her why she was crying.
'Don't you want the baby?' he asked, his voice wary of the answer, unsure whether the yes or the no would cause the greatest turmoil within him. He stared at his wife, her hair neither blonde nor ginger, the rare balance of both resting harmoniously at her shoulders – and it reminded him of what she was ... a rare balance of beauty and knowledge. To him, it was as if the God's had fashioned her out of the purest of their materials- knowing that one day she would be a saviour to someone, to him. He watched as she raised a hand, slowly wiping away the remaining tracks along her cheek, before resting said hand on his shoulder.
'I have never wanted something so much'.
Penny knew that she was a strong, good natured and multi tasking woman the moment she reached adulthood. The fact had somewhat been verified when she became a true Halliwell witch; taking on the tasks of being a witch, a wife and a woman in the 1970's. Most days consisted of house hold chores, shopping and vanquishing, none of which she could pick as a less arduous task than the one before.
But parenthood was a different kettle of fish all together. Although she had not yet had the baby, in fact she was only five and half months pregnant, the simple tasks she used to perform throughout the day had become that much more demanding, tiring and difficult. Chores around the house which she had done quickly and without much difficulty, dusting for instance, had become that much more complicated.
For one, she now had a rather large bump that rounded beneath her dress, a precious, fragile package that she had agreed to carry around with her for nine months, give or take a few days; prevented her from doing things as carefree as she used to do. When she dusts tops of cupboards or even the legs of tables, twinges set in her stomach and she's forced back into a standing position, one hand protectively covering the bump.
The most deviously demanding task of the day to her was vanquishing demons. It seemed as though the demonic activity in her life had tripled the moment she had found out about being pregnant; and to her it was the worst time it could have. Every time a demon appeared, her heart would skip a beat it had never done before- a fearful one. Before, she had never been scared, not even considered the possibility of dying; but now she was petrified for herself and her unborn child. A child, she knew, who would rule the doings in her life forever more- who she would love unconditionally, and protect at whatever costs.
But that didn't stop the bump from being annoying.
Deep below the crust of the earth, in the confines of a darkened room, a plan formulated. Crested atop a black marble throne, the Source clacked his nails against the arms, listening impatiently to the slow forming plan that was being thrust at him.
'So you're saying that once the Halliwell child is born, we either kill it or take it?' The Source said in a flat, indifferent voice, as if he's discussing the weather, not the life or death of an infant.
'Yes. The child is prophesised to be the mother of the Charmed Ones, a coven of witches who will over throw the demon world. Kill the child and demon's will take over, or take the child and raise it as evil. Either of these will make the demons the rulers of both worlds'.
'Why turn the child evil when I can drain it of its powers?' The Source asked indignantly, standing to move over to a book mounted on a silver pedestal. He flicked through the thin pages, scanning quickly through the mountainous number of articles, looking for the information on power draining. A he scanned, he could not help but think of the Book of Shadows that the Halliwell witches had passed down from generation to generation; to wonder if their book was as big as his, if it contained demonic secrets... if he was in it. So engrossed in his thoughts, he nearly missed the power drain page. Slamming a pale palm against the page, he read out loud.
'Power drain is effective on any good witch who is of the age of acceptance, which is their sixteenth birthday when they decide to use their powers for good or evil. Draining their power is only possible if they exercise their powers regularly, but the ritual must take place below ground and with their compliance before their sixteenth birthday is up'.
The Source put a hand to his head, rubbing at a throbbing temple beneath his receding hairline. He watched the demon in front of him, who bore the news, shift uneasily at the silence. Candlelight flickered, shadows dancing on the bare stone walls. Moving back to the marble throne, a voice broke the uneasiness. Not breaking step, The Source listened before sitting.
'How are you supposed to get the child's compliance?'
The Source stared at the demon before him, wondering when his demonic brethren had become so stupid. The man who stood before him didn't look stupid, dark lacquered hair, piercing blue eyes, and forked tongue almost counteracting the idiocy; almost.
'It's the only part of the plan that's easy. A witch will always sacrifice herself for the ones she loves'.
'Quite right. What shall I tell the rest of us demons?'
'Tell them to force the child to use its powers... attack as regularly as possible apart from during the pregnancy. The day the child is expected, send in as many demons as you can, force the child to use magic right away. Tell them; tell all demons that they are not to harm the mother or child. Tell them that if they do, they will have me to answer to'.
'Why save the mother? Why not kill her? It will be easier and less risky for us later on'.
The Source sighed through his nose impatiently, and the demon in front of him backed off slightly.
'Penny Halliwell will nurture her child with magic. She will make the child stronger and more powerful, which is exactly what I want, because then I will be stronger and more powerful. She will also come in handy for ... other things'.
'What about the mortal father?'
'He is disposable'.
Dawn broke over the house, the sky splitting wide open to reveal the weak sun, its rays breaking the black with the beginnings of a new day. Penny watched from her place at the window, her knees drawn to the pregnant bump that stretched out her nightgown. She looked at the day breaking in, knowing that she should feel peaceful as she did so, but she didn't. The eighth month of her pregnancy had been abnormally, unsettlingly quiet. She had not been woken from sleep to defeat a demon, nor interrupted from breakfast or any other meal of the day to sort out an evil conspiracy. Instead she had been cooking healthy, thought out meals for herself and her bump; meals which she took her time to prepare, a luxury she had not been able to do since she was young when she baked with her grandmother. The normality was overwhelming; it should have been relaxing and wonderful not to have to be on the constant look out for demons who were trying to kill her and her baby. She knew she should be pleased. But the truth was she was uneasy... scared even at the lack of demonic activity. Something was wrong and she could feel it.
The linen sheets rustled as Paul rolled over in their bed, before stretching and yawning. Shaking the sleep from his head, he reached over instinctively to place the flat of his hand against the swell of his wife's abdomen, but feeling only tussled sheets and emptiness, he sprung to his feet, over acting as he searched for his wife. Taking but seconds to find her, he could not help but marvel at how worked up he had gotten over the short loss of contact, before gently walking up behind her and putting his hands on her shoulders.
'Is the baby giving you a hard time?' he asked, sliding his hands down to rest at her lower back, knowing that it was tender from the extra weight she carried at her front. His hands kneaded it as he spoke, feeling the utmost admiration for his wife and her resilience.
'No' she said quietly, leaning into his touch the muscles twinging as he hit sore spots, 'I just have that feeling again'. She was aware of the wobble of her voice as she said this, knew it was because she was apprehensive of what was to come.
'Normality too much for you' he said teasingly, knowing what she was talking about immediately. Three weeks ago she had told him about how she felt, that she nervous that no demons had come so close to her pregnancy. 'Perhaps they're just having a second thought about attacking whilst yours and our baby's powers are combined. You have been pretty powerful, with all that excess magic spurting out randomly' he said, serious now as his hands came to a stop and he stepped forwards so that he faced her. Her cheeks had lost their usual pregnant ambiance which he was used to, and were instead pale and tear stained.
'But what if they're just lying in wait, planning to kill my baby as soon as humanly- well demonically, possible!' her voice rose in pitch, and the tears spurted again, as Paul cupped her face. She felt more vulnerable with the one person in the world she trusted, than she ever had in her life.
'I promise you that no demon will touch our baby, Penny. Ever'.
She looked at him. She took in his dark sweep of coal black hair, his dazzling green eyes, his boyish grin, remembering when she had fallen for him when he had pushed her out of the way of a speeding car. She remembered when she had believed in him more than anything she could think of. She only wished that she could now. The negativity bristled, and she deflated as she listened to his soothing, knowing that they were all well meant lies.
Her appetite soon broke the short bonding session, and they both descended the stairs together, hand in hand; both thinking that in short days time they would both be parents. Cracking an egg into the frying pan, pulling his arm away so that it wasn't spattered with burning fat, he looked up at Penny, who was sat at the table, fiddling with the red rose she had plucked from the vase in the centre of the table. 'So, do you still think that our baby will come on the 4th?' he asked, jimmying the egg away from the hot black of the pan and onto a plate to join its other breakfast friends.
'It's Independence Day, and I have a feeling that our baby is going to be just that- independent' Penny smiled as he put down the plateful of breakfast in front of her. Discarding the blood red rose, she instead picked up her knife and fork and tucked in.
'Well, I still think it won't be until the tenth'. He joined her at the breakfast table, countering her fried plateful with a piece of toast, making Penny feel rather greedy.
'But that would mean that she'd be five days late' Penny said in between a mouthful of bacon, confused as to why anyone would think that her baby would be late. The due date was in two days, on the fifth, but deep down she knew that she would come early.
'And you're still convinced it's going to be a girl?' Like he'd said to her early on in the pregnancy, he didn't mind which sex it was, just as long as it was healthy. But like any soon to be dad, he was fawning after it being a boy who he could take to football matches, and help him learn to ride a bike.
'Of course it's going to be a girl' she said incredulously, forcing herself not to roll her eyes at him, 'all Halliwell's are'.
'So Jason's a secret girl is he?' he teased, putting his plate in the sink before pouring them both a glass of orange juice.
Penny scowled at him playfully, 'I've always had my suspicions. But what I mean is that every single generation of Halliwell's has had a girl born, who is always the oldest sibling. After that it just depends really, but it's always been that the first born is a girl'.
'I really think that you're just making that up' he said, clearing away the last of their breakfast, before moving into the lounge, his voice carrying through to Penny, 'you're just hoping for a girl'.
'I am not!' she cried indignantly, stalking after him in a very hormonal fashion, trying in vain to look scary whilst waddling.
'You can't tell me that you're not hoping a little bit for a girl?'
'Of course I am - all mothers do'.
'Then why did you just say you don't?'
She huffed, annoyed at his stupidity. 'I was saying that I wasn't making up the first born is a girl stuff, I just didn't get round to answering your second question'.
'Ok. So answer it now, are you hoping for a girl?'
'Yes! For the hundredth time yes I am hoping for a girl who I can bake cookies with, and teach magic and all the rest. Are you happy now?'
'Ecstatically so' he grinned mockingly, and ducked as a hefty looking book flew at him. 'Somebody's a bit hormonal today'.
'Somebody's going to be severely injured today' she countered back, moving towards the stairs. 'You are the most annoying man on this planet, you know that?'
He came to the foot of the stairs looking up at her. 'That's why you married me'.
She chuckled at him, before going to the bathroom to wash and get dressed for what was perhaps the last time whilst she was pregnant. Running the hot water in the sink, she bent over to pick up a flannel, and felt her baby kick hard against her womb. Sitting unsteadily at the edge of the bathtub, flannel in one hand, the other rested on her belly, she whispered to herself and her child.
'Not long now, not long now'.
By the end of the day, Penny and Paul had just about filled every inch of the house with congratulations and good luck cards and flowers. The house was a cacophony of colour that was awash with the smell of sweet flowers, and artificial plastic. Leaning against the door which she had only just closed, a large bouquet of flowers in her hands, Penny let out a sigh, trying to think when she had seen this many flowers in one place, but when she got nowhere, she gave up.
'Paul, have we got any room left for another bunch of flowers?' she called out to the leafy house, as she walked through the lounge which was over full with garish colours.
Walking through the kitchen door, the bouquet held out in front of her like a bomb, she homed in on Paul, who also had a bunch of flowers in his hands, his quite a bit bigger than hers.
'We have filled this house to breaking point. There are flowers everywhere, even in the bathroom!' he cried, plonking down the flowers on the kitchen counter. 'And we ran out of vases about fifty bunches ago'.
'At this rate, the baby's first word isn't going to be mommy or daddy, but flower' Penny said grumpily, following Paul's lead and discarding the flowers. 'We're going to have to say thanks but no thanks from now on if anyone else turns up with more'.
'Well, at least we know we're well liked' Paul said, trying to instigate a little bit of positivity into the conversation.
'I suppose. But isn't it enough for them to just say so, instead of bombarding us with all these flowers?'
'Obviously not' but his input wasn't heard as she talked on.
'And can't people think of something more original than flowers? They're nice enough, but they die. Couldn't they give us baby clothes or money or...' Penny burbled off as Paul placed his hand over her mouth. 'What are you doing?' she asked around his hand, scowling profusely at him.
'You're babbling'.
'Am not'.
'And you only babble when you're nervous' he finished, ignoring her desperate comment.
Knowing that she had lost, Penny conceded, before brushing his hand aside. 'I don't know if I'm going to be a good mom'.
'Of course you're not!' Paul said, seeing the momentary flash of hurt in her eyes, 'you're going to be the greatest mom ever. There are no two ways about it'.
'But what if I...'
'No buts. You will be fantastic, and I'll be there right along with you. I promise' he said, meaning it with every fibre of his being, before leaning in and kissing her tenderly, hoping that Penny knew that this was his seal of assurance. Leaning his forehead against hers, he looked deep into her eyes which flashed with panic and excitement. 'Let's get you to bed. After all, if you say it's going to be the big day tomorrow, then you'd better get your energy levels up'.
'Yes Sir' she saluted him, waiting for his hand that would haul her up from their place at the sofa, where she was stuck down by her own unbalance. Helping her up, she leaned against him as they made their way up to bed.
Tomorrow's the big day, she thought, climbing into bed before feeling his arms slip round her; and I'm ready. That was her slumbering thought as she slipped into perhaps the last peaceful night sleep for a long time.
Jack looked down from his perch, watching Penny and her husband sleep, one motionless apart from the slight rise and fall of the chest, the other restlessly kicking away the sheets, steadily working their way down the bed. Being Penny's whitelighter was no easy task over the years, and he knew that when her baby came, it would be like any other disastrously dangerous day. Preparing himself, Jack waited, knowing that it would not be long until he was needed- not long until a Halliwell child was born.
Paul made sure that he had everything that Penny needed in an overnight bag, including her toothbrush which he always seemed to forget when packing things for her. After double checking it, he placed it downstairs next to the door just as the clock struck eight. He had been awake for hours, and although he knew that he should be trying to intake as much sleep as possible, he was much too excited to just lie down. So instead he'd tidied the house, made breakfast and even done the washing, though he left the ironing as he couldn't quite figure out how to make it work. Finally deciding that he should wake his wife at the honourable time of nine o'clock, he climbed the stairs. Walking into their room, he saw the once tidy floor littered with clothes and shoes and bits and bobs he didn't know the name of; and did not see the one thing he expected to- his wife.
'Penny?' he said slowly, trying to comprehend the situation as he stepped over a pair of his underwear, 'Penny, you in here?'
'Where is my toothbrush?' she asked, coming out of the bedroom, fully dressed in the one of his shirts and a pair of shorts, 'have you seen my toothbrush? Actually, come to mention it, have you seen any of my stuff, because it all seems to have gone walk about?' She stood with her hands on her hips.
'Yes, I packed them into a night bag for you so we could be ready for the off at a moment's notice' he said, expecting a well deserved thank you, but instead receiving a scowl.
'I really wanted to clean my teeth'.
'Well use my toothbrush' he said, sidling round the side of her and into the en-suite before grabbing his own toothbrush and giving it to her.
'That's disgusting; it has been in your mouth. I don't want your mouth germs in mine thank you very much indeed' she said, looking at the bristled brush with distaste, her nerves soaring.
'But you kiss me every day, and you don't seem too bothered by my mouth germs then' he sighed but in a teasing tone which wouldn't annoy her too much.
'Well, I- oh I don't know. I have no come back for that, I'm much too adult for your kind of childish behaviour' her voice was haughty, but she shrugged it off as she linked arms with him, her pulse raising at the thoughts that were racing through her head. Today was the day. 'Well, I'm starving, so I hope you have breakfast ready'.
'Of course Your Majesty, if you would care to follow me' he laughed, as he pulled her gently along behind him, down the stairs and into the kitchen, before seating her in one of the kitchen chairs. 'What do you fancy?'
'Pancakes' she said deftly, grinning at him; though not for anything in particular. She had never really realized how much she did love him. And how much he'd love their child. The thought was instantaneous, and although she knew she was a tiny bit afraid of the thought, she was gloriously happy about it at the same time.
'Well, I knew you were going to say that, so' he twirled elegantly with two plates of pancakes and a bottle of maple syrup in his hands, before gliding over to the table. Placing the bigger plate in front of Penny, he bowed as he put the maple syrup in front of her. 'My Lady'.
'What's this, no squeezing the syrup on for me?'
'Oh begging your pardons', he grovelled sarcastically, before seizing the bottle and squeezing a load onto her pancakes, so much that it flooded the plate.
'Paul!' she exclaimed, pushing the bottle away, although his hands were still wrapped firmly around it and pressing down hard. Syrup splurged onto Paul's shirt in a dripping glob.
Both went quiet.
'Oh my god, you didn't just do that' Paul whispered, mortified as he looked down at his favourite shirt, which was now sticky with orange gloop.
Raucous laughter burst out from Penny before she could stop it. Paul looked at her. Although he had heard her laugh, it had never been like this. It had never been as free or as infectious, nor had it made her even more beautiful; not like now. Images of freedom, of their first kiss, of their marriage flooded his head, remembering everything happy, feeling like he had never felt before.
He could feel that today was the day for miracles.
The clock chimed eleven.
Penny and Paul sat on the porch as they watched the road slowly fill up. Cars parked haphazardly, looking like they had crashed into a stationary position outside houses. People flitted in and out of houses, shouting and music and colour brewed in the air. Both Paul and Penny had always loved Independence Day. It had been their first date, as well as their first kiss. It would now, perhaps, be their child's birthday.
Nursing a glass of lemonade in her hands, Penny watched a young couple pushing a pram past the bottom of their path. A balloon tied onto the handlebar, the parents hands tied equally as tightly around each other, they strolled past cheerily. A baby who looked nearly newborn, lay sleeping undisturbed, despite the noise that filled the street.
'That will be us soon' Paul said, startling Penny as he broke her train of thought into pieces, causing her to slop lemonade over her legs. 'And that is payback'.
'And you are annoying' Penny growled, putting her half full glass down, before drying herself off with the cuff of Paul's shirt.
'You need a new come back, you used that one yesterday'.
'Be nice' she demanded, before leaning her head on his shoulder, 'you ready to become a parent?'
'Of course. Are you?' he said, his voice sounding strange in both their ears as if suddenly he wasn't sure of her answer.
'I've never been so ready for anything, ever' she replied honestly, before climbing to her feet and heading inside.
The clock chimed twelve.
'Where are you going?'
'I need to pee' she called over her shoulder, as she rushed for the downstairs bathroom before suddenly stopping as water trickled down her leg, before pooling between her legs on the floor. Her breath caught, and she steadied herself by leaning against the wall, her heart pounding. 'PAUL' she shouted.
'What! What's wrong?' he ran to her, halting at her side, expecting a hoard of demons to be pulling her apart, but all he saw was a puddle of what looked like water on the floor. 'Couldn't you make it to the toilet?' he asked jokingly, but when she looked at him with a look of shock on her face, he went quiet.
'My water just broke'.
It was Paul who was the one who started panicking first. Grabbing Penny by the arm, he hauled her from where she stood, as well as pulling her away from her sudden state of shock, and towards the door.
Once she had come round to her senses, they had reached the front door where the night bag stood in a shaft of light. Pulling the front door open, Penny hurried out into the fresh midday air, before waddling down the steps, clutching her bump like the baby would suddenly burst from it like some kind of horror film. She pulled at the car door handle, which remained profusely locked.
'Paul! Open the door!' she cried from the driveway, before almost instantaneously the locks clicked open and the handle gave under her hand. The first wave of contractions were coming, her abdomen cramping and she wavered as she climbed into the passenger seat of the car. She knew that if they didn't get going soon, she would have her baby in the back seat of the car.
All a jingle of keys and bags and excitement, Paul swung the door shut and ran to the car, where he could see his wife's face struggling to hold in the pain through the wind shield. Piling himself and the bits and pieces into the car, he started the engine, which purred to life immediately, and put it into gear. Looking over his shoulder as he reversed, he slammed the breaks on, forcing Penny to wrap arms around her bump protectively.
'What's happening?' she panted, as the first of the contractions finished, and she regained her footing on what was happening which was frankly overwhelming. She looked over her shoulder too, where Paul was staring, and groaned.
The road was jam packed, completely stationary. Cars had been abandoned in the middle of the road, most without owners, and a particularly big one parked outside their drive. 'We'll never get all of them to move in time'. Paul said, as stress and nerves built up inside up, causing him to feel nauseous. He didn't know what was worse. That Penny wasn't going to make it to the hospital, or the fact that he was probably going to have to birth the baby. He went with the second.
'Penny, get out of the car' he ordered, as he opened her door wide, unclipped her seatbelt, and outstretched his hand.
'I need to go to a hospital' she whispered mortified at how wrong everything was going already.
'You need to give birth to our baby safely, and that's only going to happen in our house because we can't make it to a hospital' he said much more calmly than he felt. He grasped her hand as she made a move to disagree with him. 'Penny, please listen to me, go inside the house'.
Feeling the most confused she ever had, Penny clasped hold of her husband's hand as if it were the only tie to life. She felt him pull her up, guide her up the stairs and back into the house. They walked past the living room where her waters had broken, up the stairs, and into the spare bedroom.
Collapsing onto the bed, Penny curled up into as much of a ball as she could, as another cramp stabbed her swiftly in the abdomen. She whimpered, feeling the next contraction rock through her, just five minutes after the first. 'It's not going to be long' she hissed at her husband, as he rushed around the room, before out onto the landing, looking for towels, hot water and soap. Hopefully some gloves. Maybe an apron. Realising that the bucket was in the shed, he ran full pelt to the garden, throwing the shed doors open and removing the pewter bucket from the back. Running back with it, he boiled the kettle, put multiple pans of water onto boil whilst running the hot water from the tap, hoping that he wouldn't take too long.
Footsteps approached her side, and Penny rolled over, expecting to see her husband's face hovering over her, looking pale and worried and excited all at the same time. Instead pure black eyes stared into hers, and she screamed. Demon. She splayed her hands, expecting- hoping, the demon to explode into ash, but she instead combusted a table behind the demon. She pushed herself up from the bed, elbows almost giving as she propped herself up, before rolling away as the demon summoned an energy ball and threw it teasingly at the wall next to her. She pushed herself to the window, leaning heavily against the wall; she threw her hands open again. Willing with everything she had in her that it would blow the demon to hell, or wherever it was when they were vanquished, she moaned as she blew a crater in the door.
Paul looked up at the ceiling as the light rocked; dust fell from the ceiling plaster. A scream sent him running with frying pan in hand. 'PENNY?'
The demon cracked a smile, knowing his orders were precise, to be there when the child came, to force it to use magic straight away. To not kill either the child or the woman. But it said no where that he could not play with her. 'Guess what, witch?' he cackled, as he slid round the bed and cornered her, not helping but noticing how she looked like a wide eyed doe who was desperately trying to protect her young, but at the same time not be eaten by the big bad wolf. 'I've come for your baby'. He knew that that would provoke her, perhaps make the child use magic when out of the womb.
'Over my dead body' Penny half growled, half gasped, as another contraction pushed her to the floor. She bent her head to her lap, crying out.
'You don't need to be dead, although I would prefer it that way; because you seem to be incapable to even get up, let alone fight me off your child'.
'Well, I can' Paul snarled, before flinging himself at the demon. Both crashed to the floor, rolling in a scrum, Paul still wielding the frying pan. Rolling on top of the demon, Paul slammed the metal kitchen appliance down onto his head, happy to see him slide unresponsively further into the floor. He turned his attention back to his wife, who was panting heavily on the floor, her eyes scrunched up, doubled up in agony.
'Penny! Let me help you up onto the bed' he said worriedly, but she snapped at him.
'I'm not moving from this spot! Now get me some pillows, and get ready because I'm having the baby right here!'
Paul moved quicker than he thought possible.
A pop and Penny looked up, knowing what to expect. Another demon, this time completely human looking, lurched towards her, athame already in hand. She flicked her wrist, managing to control her powers, and sent the athame burying itself into the plaster walls. 'Why?' she gasped, not even trying to push up from the floor.
'Why not?' the demon snorted, summoning a fireball and stepping closer to the woman who was obviously on the verge of giving birth.
'Don't you have a conscience? I'm having a completely innocent child, and you want to take it away. Explain this to me!' she yelled, reaching out for something to grasp onto, but found nothing.
'It's obvious isn't it? You will raise your child as a witch. Demons can't have another Halliwell destroying our plans. Call it Pest Control if you like' he laughed, taking the final step toward Penny. 'So when you're ready, I'll be ready'.
Paul charged up the stairs with the towels, gloves and apron tossed over his shoulder, the pewter bucket in his arms sloshing with hot water. Running into the room, stepping over the unconscious demon, he put the bucket down before whacking the unsuspecting demon with the dropped frying pan. 'I think that's 2-0 to the frying pan' he joked, but stooped down and set Penny up.
'My contractions are. So close. Together' she panted out, before doubling over again. 'My baby is coming now!'
'And so are we, how coincidental' a voice sounded from the door, and both to be parents looked up in surprise, and then in complete and utter desolation. A whole hoard of assorted demons crowded round the door, and as they looked, they heard the shattering of glass downstairs, and knew that there were more, many more.
'Paul, they're going to take my baby' she sobbed, the pain and the thought tipping her over the edge.
Paul didn't deny it. The odds weren't good. A mortal and an in- labour witch, versus about forty demons... Even for them, it didn't bode well, and the possibility that their child was going to be taken seemed even more likely. Both looked at each other with defeat, knowing there wasn't a lot to be done, but they were going to do whatever it took to protect their child. No matter if it was hopeless.
And then the angel came.
Jack materialised in an array of blue and white orbs, twisting down like a glittery hurricane. His blonde hair swept across his forehead, muscular arms already open. He knelt at Penny's side, took her hand. 'You're going to have a baby'.
'No kidding!' she gasped, squeezing down hard on his hand. Although he was technically dead, Jack still retained feelings, and all of sudden it felt like all the bones in his hand had just broken. Biting down on his lip, he looked sideways at Paul, whilst Penny's eyes were screwed up in agony.
'I know what I have to do' Paul said gently, before leaning forwards and kissing Penny on the forehead. 'I love you' he said solemnly, before standing up, grabbing the frying pan, and the bedside lamp, and charging gallantly at the crowd of demons. Immediately, he hit out. A first he did it blindly, but that caused more injury to him than the demons, so he took calculated shots, before edging towards the stairs. Ducking under a fireball which burnt through the wooden flooring, he jabbed the open chest of a demon with the hilt of the lamp, and flipped him over the banister. Without notice he found himself flying through the air and into the wall, his frying pan and lamp clattering next to him. 'Here goes' he shouted, picking up his weapons, and once again starting his rampage.
'Breathe Penny. That's it, just breathe easy. You're kid doesn't want to be held up it seems, and so you're going to have to push in a minute. Ok?' Jack said loudly, already having shut the door, muffling the dull roar of the demons. Taking a deep breath himself, he readied himself for the birth.
Penny concentrated on breathing though the pain. 'Where's Paul?' she huffed painfully, before going back to breathing again, finding it a lot harder than she used to.
'He's fine' Jack skipped past the question, before looking again to see if the baby's head was crowning. 'Ok, Penny honey, you're going to have to push for me on three'. He steadied himself, before clutching hold of her hand. 'Ready, one, two, THREE!'
With what he could only call the mix of a vicious cat fight, and a human scream, Penny pushed. Jack looked down, checking again, and his eyes widened as the head appeared, and a minute set of shoulders.
A crash echoed, followed by a sudden yell.
'PUSH!' he yelled again, trying to drown out the sounds of the fight, and once again Penny obliged. Screaming as she did so, which Jack was glad of because it over rode Paul's shout, the torso of the baby appeared. 'Ok, only one more push and you'll be done. Penny, you have to concentrate'.
'I can't' Penny cried, her hair stuck to the sheen of sweat on her forehead as she fought to keep the scream inside, 'I can't. Where's Paul!'
'Once more Penny and it will all be over. I promise, and then you'll have your baby' he soothed, picking up an unused towel and wiping her face with it. Kissing her on the forehead, he took her hand. 'Ok, Push!'
One last cry from Penny and she slipped down the wall.
Picking up the baby in his arms, like he would a piece of fragile art, he cleaned the baby of, before wrapping it in towels, and cradling it to his chest. He'd done this so many times before, but he had never felt like he did now. It was like a fire in his chest, pride and happiness that he had bought the brand new Halliwell witch into the world, but also a sadness, knowing that there was little chance that the child would have a father. Closing his eyes briefly, he gently passed the baby over to Penny, who had managed to prop herself up. The baby's cry's were loud, but died down as soon as it reached its mothers arms.
'Congratulations Penny, it's a girl'.
The stairs were coming up close behind Paul. He'd lost the lamp somewhere in between whacking a demon with it, and using it as a prop that would prevent him from falling. Clutching the frying pan in his sweaty palm, he wiped away the blood matted hair from his eyes, and advanced towards the first demon on his right, limping slightly as he did so. Weighing up his opponent, he bought the frying pan crashing down, aimed at his head. The demon dodged to the left, and the frying pan caught his shoulder instead. Roaring in anger, the demon charged at Paul, propelling him to the lip of the stairs.
Paul knew that he was close to the end. He could sense it somewhere within him, and it bought him sadness, yet at the same time it gave him pride that he had defended his family. He thought of the times he would miss with his child, with his wife, but just knowing that they were safe bought him a calm tranquillity. Deciding he wasn't going without putting up a fight, he pushed the demon back, before picking up an athame which had landed at his feet, and plunged it into the demon's torso. With a cry, the demon burst into ashes, its limbs flailing as it did so. Regaining his footing, he plucked the athame from the floor again, so that it was in one hand and the frying pan in the other. Ducking an energy ball, he flew at the few remaining demons, but suddenly, something hot slammed into him. Crashing to the ground floor, he recognised it was his blood that was hot, that was suddenly burning his chest. He drew a wheezing breath, heard the cry of a child, the laughter of demons. He tried in vain to push himself up, but could not muster the strength, so instead wriggled towards the staircase, pushing past the black that was whispering round his vision. Collapsing at the bottom of the stairs, he lay still.
It was suddenly as if her world had pitched in every direction, throwing her off course from whatever she had planned and into an entirely different course of life. Finally, when everything stilled around her, she found her perspective- her baby girl. She propped herself up more securely as she cradled her baby against her, who was now asleep, her dusky blue eyes closed, a wisp of mousy brown hair already visible.
'What are you going to call her?' Jack asked, helping Penny to stand, before moving her over to the bed. 'Did you and Paul settle on a name?'
'Patricia after my grandmother and Melinda after the founder of the Warren line. Patricia Melinda Halliwell, my baby girl'. Her grin spread like oil on water, creating rainbows that seemed to glitter in the very room.
'It fits her' Jack said, but his words drained away as the door was blasted from its hinges.
Instinctively, Penny curved her body to create a human shield around her baby, only now understanding that she would do anything to protect Patricia. She stood, whipping round as four demons flooded through the door, immediately ignoring Jack and charging at her. Adrenaline and determination replaced fatigue, and she sent the first one flying, but was taken by surprise as one blinked in behind her. About to fling him away, a demon grabbed her from behind. Clutching her baby to her chest, who was now awake and crying, she fought against the physical restraints of the demon. As the one who had blinked in moved towards her, athame in hand, she screamed at him. 'Leave my baby alone!'
The demon teased her, by taking up aim with his athame, and suddenly found himself thrown back, smashing through the window.
The demon dropped Penny's hands, backing away from her and her child. Patricia, still cradled against Penny's chest, had gone quiet, and for one painstaking moment every being in the room thought that the worst had happened. Penny's heart stopped. But then Patricia moved slightly, wiggling in her sleep, and Penny understood. 'She used her magic' she whispered, awestruck, and all the demons around her felt a sweeping feeling of relief. They had completed their mission. But before they could even blink out, an amazing strike of power radiated from Penny's body, and every single one of the remaining demons, dissolved into ash.
Jack moved cautiously toward Penny, not wanting to frighten her. 'Penny, are you both alright?' He was rewarded by her nod, her back facing him still as she stroked a hand against her baby's head, before kissing it.
Then suddenly she blanched. 'Paul?' she gasped, an exclamation, a thought, a question- a doubt.
Jack stayed still as he watched her run, arms still wrapped firmly around her baby, out of the room and down the hall. He dared not follow.
She could smell it, the stench of blood and death. It lingered, metallic and salty, in the air, making her stomach churn as she flew down the last few steps, before dropping to her knees, startling her baby girl awake. Patricia mewled against Penny's chest, her tiny hands gripping onto her mother's shirt.
'Paul!' she cried, taking one of his cold hands before pressing it to her cheek, 'Paul, we did it. You did it, our little girl is safe'. She drew in a stuttering breath, before leaning close to his ear. 'Patricia Melinda Halliwell, our daughter. Say hello to her'.
She leaned away, closing her eyes, relishing in the darkness her eyelids made. 'Hello Patty'.
Her eyes sprung open, as the voice spread across the room. It was weak, deathly quiet, but it was still there- still Paul's.
'She's beautiful' he breathed, reaching out to brush a bloodied finger across the girl's cheek, smiling as she wriggled. 'She looks like you, Penny. Just as beautiful; just as rare'. His arm thudded to the floor, his strength gone.
'She has your hair' she grinned shakily, her tears flowing down past her chin, the occasional one landing on Patty's hair.
'She has your eyes' his breath ghosted across to her, black swirling away the enchanting image of his wife and daughter. 'I love you. Please tell her that, and make sure you know it'.
'Paul, please' she begged, squeezing his hand, 'Paul!' her desperate cry turned into a scream, a demanding scream at that 'Jack!'
Jack materialised in white orbs behind her. Without looking at either woman or child, he bent over, pressing his hand against the slice in Paul's chest. Warm, healing rays spread out across Paul, edging towards all the cuts. The light died.
'Jack! Why isn't it working?' she cried, on her knees, cheek pressed against Patty's tuft of hair.
'I can't heal the dead' he said solemnly, finally turning to see her. He had never witnessed someone crumble in all of his dead years at being a whitelighter. He had never seen someone fall apart for a fractional second, before pulling themselves together again, knowing that there was something else to keep strong for.
She stood up, Patty cradled in her arms, not daring to look anywhere but into her eyes, those dusky blue eyes that were the exact shade of her own. She moved away from where her now dead husband lay, away from her whitelighter and into the lounge. Lying Patty down on a pile of cushions in the middle of the floor, she stood still for a second. Thoughts and facts collided in her head. She was a widow. She was a single mother. She was alone.
She swallowed down the tears, instead letting her grief and shock flood into her mind; feed the actions she was about to perform- ignite the fire that was her magic.
'Penny, I'm so sorry' Jack said, laying a hand on her shoulder, hoping that it would comfort her, though he didn't know how.
'Sorry is not good enough' Penny whispered, 'sorry isn't going to bring Paul back'. Her shoulders sagged, and for a second everything was still. With a crackle, a burst of magic which neither Penny nor Jack knew of sparked from Penny as she whirled round, before hitting Jack squarely in the chest. He flew, flipping over and over in the air, before crashing into the opposite wall, sliding down. He looked at her, expecting shock or an apology to be lingering at her lips, readable in her expression... but she was just cold. Her eyes had solidified no longer a sky blue but the blue that personified sorrow, the hard gemstone, a stormy sea. He grappled to his feet, made a move forward, but was soon sent flying into the cabinet in the corner of the room, sending glass flying, pieces of ornament skittering across the carpet.
'Penny!' he yelped, as another burst hit him before he could orb, 'what are you doing?'
'Being sorry!' she yelled, aiming another electrical magic current at him, but before it hit him, Jack orbed out. 'Coward!' The ball of electricity slammed into the wall, burning away the wall paper and leaving smouldering ash behind.
Patty's shrieks were the only thing that sounded in the house, echoing above Penny's laboured breathing and Jack's twinkle of orbs. She kicked her little pink legs, thumping them against the cushions she was lain out on, her arms waving frantically in the air, willing herself to be picked up and comforted by a mother who needed to be comforted herself.
Penny's shoulders heaved, sobbing out her anguish and her anger at the world but aiming it at Jack, the one who had failed at saving her husband. Everything seemed to be happening at the same time. She thought that today was supposed to be one of the happiest in her life- the day she became a mother to the child she'd always wanted. Instead she had had her husband robbed from her.
'Penny. You can't do this. You can't take it out on me' Jack began, knowing to stay still and let her be angry. He kept his voice steady, trying in vain to sound persuasive and understanding.
'Get out' she growled, not facing him, for she knew that if she saw him, she would lose control- regret her actions. Patty's screaming quieted as Penny came into her line of view. Her whimpers faded as Penny picked her up rocking her back and forth before gently placing her into a playpen Paul had built weeks ago.
'You can't be serious?' He was mortified as he watched her walk away from the playpen, her hands visibly shaking as she balled them into fists. They had always been so close when they were younger. He had helped her to get together with Paul, had only just delivered her baby girl- and now this - the ultimate rejection.
'I don't want you anymore, Jack'. She still had her back to him, her fingers brushing past the dusty shelving which held vast amounts of framed memories and ornaments.
'This is just you grieving, sweetheart' he tried, but instantly regretted the usage of a pet name. One of Paul's many pet names for her.
'It's not just grief. I know what I want, and that's you gone! You can tell the Elders that I want no more to do with whitelighter's of any kind!' she spat, as she walked up to him, and prodded him in the chest. 'What is the point of you when you can't save the one's we love?'
'All whitelighter's have limits. We can't heal the dead, and Paul was already gone. I'm so sorry' Jack said solemnly. He went to lay a hand on her shoulder, but she jerked back.
'Tell whoever is in charge that I, Penny Halliwell does not want, nor need you or another white lighter- ever'.
'You know that what you're saying is going to happen. The Elders will be listening, and they will take me. You need me!' Jack said desperately, already seeing the tiny orbs of grey blink into existence.
'I don't need you!' she sneered, placidly walking away from him.
'What if your daughter is sick, or injured – or attacked? How would you heal her? How would you keep her alive?'
'Don't you dare bring my baby into this!' she hissed, whipping round and slapping him. His head jerked to the left, his neck cracking as the impact sent him reeling. His hand found its way to the red hand print on his cheek, which he deftly rubbed.
The growing crescendo of twinkling rang in the room. The sound, usually so comforting and melodious to Penny, was harsh now, almost sinister as it became louder and louder.
Jack grabbed hold of her wrist as she backed away from the grey mass of orbs that had wrapped themselves around his feet, slowly inching upwards. 'Do something! Say you didn't mean it!' he urged, as the orbs shrouded his torso from view.
Penny looked him in the eye, her blue eyes hard as they stared at him. 'You should know me by now, Jack. I don't tell lies'. With a vicious shake of her arm, Jack's fingers detached themselves from her wrist, and she backed away, never taking her eyes off of his until the grey mass had completely obscured him.
With a rush of wind that came from nowhere, the grey condensed, hardening and deepening in colour, turning to an impenetrable black, before with a clap of thunder that was too cliché for Penny, the black mass dissipated. As she shielded her eyes from the surge of black specks, she peered into the gloom, before finally making out the scene.
Her hallway was empty.
She calmly walked towards Patty, before bundling the small girl into her arms, burying her nose into the tuft of hair that crested her head. She breathed deeply as Patty sniffled against her shoulder. Sinking into the arm chair that was the only solitary piece of furniture in the room, she pulled her knees to her chest, cradling Patty in the crook of her arm. Allowing at that moment, the severity of the day's events to crash upon her, she cried silently, spilling her tears to the only tie that held her to this earth.
As her tears streamed down her face, the last fact of the day crashed upon her so hard that it winded her.
Her whitelighter was never coming back.
She pushed at the boundaries of her grief, knowing that she could not dwell upon that feeling, that she could not reside in the emptiness that seemed to be suffocating her.
Pulling herself up, refusing to let go of her slumbering baby girl, nor to have her out of her sight, she moved with deliberate slowness to the body which was once her husband.
The smell was what came first. The overwhelming stench of death and wrongness engulfed her, a smell she knew all too well to be blood. It was sickening. She clutched Patty closer to her, brushing her thumb over the girls head as she took a solitary step closer to Paul. To the corpse, she reminded herself numbly, as she looked past the pale skinned body and towards the table at the bottom of the stairs, directing her gaze towards the phone.
Having decided to call the police and fabricate a story as to why Paul was dead, instead of trying to literally bury him, she edged ever closer towards the bloodied scene. Her footsteps seemed too loud against the deadly hush in the house, the floor boards squeaking as she moved steadily. She held her breath futilely. Closing her eyes as she skirted her way around the pool of blood which had gradually seeped out further and further, she reached for the phone before plucking it from its cradle. Her fingers shook as they hit the three buttons.
911.
The call connected immediately, and she breathed deeply as the voice on the other end calmly asked her what her emergency was.
'My husband has been murdered' she said slowly, trying to bite back the tears as she finally admitted to herself that it was over.
The voice babbled at the end, and Penny could clearly hear the tapping of keys. 'Where are you ma'am?'
'1354 Prescott Street' Penny breathed, before hanging up the phone with a slam. Knowing she had the maximum of ten minutes to make up a flawless story, she exited the house, before sitting herself down on the porch, exactly like she and Paul had done near twelve hours ago. How the day had changed, she thought, as she began pulling her story together. She plucked ideas from stories she'd read in the newspapers, before gluing it together with her own grief struck imagination, adding morbidity and outrage to the already scandalous 'crime'. Patty snuffled in her sleep, wiggling in the blankets that Penny had wrapped around her, before snuggling closer to her mom. Penny couldn't help but smile, as more love than she thought possible radiated from her and towards Patty- she never realised how much she could love this baby.
Running through her story one last time, she pressed a kiss to Patty's forehead as she cradled her to her chest, and waited with the darkness of the night for the emergency team to help her control her now dead emergency.
Sirens wailed in the near distance, becoming louder and louder until she could see the blue and red lights flash in and out of existence against the black tarmac and glass windows of cars. She stood up, leaning against the front door for support as footsteps bounced down the path, noisy ghosts in the midnight hour.
Two men in green, a woman in florescent yellow and a black jacketed man appeared as they rounded onto the porch, carrying medical bags, guns and radios.
'Where's the murder victim?' the black jacketed man asked wasting no time as he barely stopped in front of her, and Penny pointed a shaking hand towards the interior of the house.
'By the stairs' she said, and watched him and the florescent woman disappear into her house of horrors. Assuming that they were both police officers because of the man's abruptness, she dismissed them and instead turned to face the green uniformed medics, who were standing in front of her.
'Hi sweetheart, I'm Carl and I'm here to help you, ok?' As she nodded, he continued. 'Are you hurt anywhere?' the first man asked, his hair brown and long, hanging roughly by his ears, supporting kind features and a rounded face. His hand reached out to touch her shoulder, a comforting gesture as he asked.
'Yes' she said in a daze, 'yes, I'm fine'. She looked back to the door which was now wide open, heard the crackled voices on radios, urgent responses from the two people inside her house.
'Is your baby ok, ma'am?' the other medic asked, as the first checked her over, feeling her pulse at her wrist, examining her for any visible signs of trauma. 'How old is she?'
'She was born today' Penny responded automatically, dazed and confused by the day and the flashing lights which pulsed faster and faster behind the hedge, 'I had her at home... before the attack'.
'Really? Well, I think it would be best that we take her to the hospital, just to make sure that she's completely healthy...' the latter of the two medics said, reaching out to take Patty from Penny's hold, but Penny instinctively backed up, turning her body so that Patty was as far away from the man as she could manage.
'No' she snapped, and he immediately backed off, behind Carl, and round to the front door. With a nod from Carl, he slipped inside, and she debated whether he was checking out the dead body which was her husband, or simply hiding from her. She went with the latter.
'Ma'am, it would be in the best interest of your daughter if you allow us to take her to the hospital, just so that we can make sure she's fine and that there have been no complications. You don't want to put your baby in any danger, do you?' he asked, talking to her as if she was a child, not a complacent adult.
'I want to go with her' she demanded, as the three who had gone inside came back out again, the only woman there peeling off a pair of bloodied gloves.
'Officer, would it be ok if you questioned, Miss...' Carl waved his hand airily towards Penny, gesturing for a name.
'Halliwell, Penny Halliwell' she answered, as she found herself in the centre of a four pointed circle.
'If Miss Halliwell comes with us to the hospital, so that we can check out both her and her daughter and you can question her there?' Carl asked hopefully, as he scratched the stubble at his chin, not having had time to shave.
The male policeman looked ready to protest, but the woman took charge, 'of course it's ok. We're only planning on asking Miss Halliwell a few questions' she said, before smiling nicely at Penny, as if saying she understood. Penny knew that there was no way in hell that she would.
'Good, right, if you'll follow us please, Miss Halliwell' Carl motioned with a sweep of his hand, towards the pathway which led to the two vehicles parked at the side of the road.
She nodded, and both medics hurried forwards, walking quickly down the path, their bags swinging at their sides. The woman followed but the man stayed, and Penny knew that he was waiting for the people to come and pick up Paul's body and take him away.
The woman climbed into a squat, plain blue car, that had an unusual number plate and many scratches down the side, whilst Penny found herself directed to the garishly coloured ambulance, which stood behind the battered car, towering over her and looking scarily foreboding.
Carl climbed in first, before asking for her to pass up Patty, which Penny did with delicate, precise actions, and refused to blink as she climbed up the two metal stairs that led to the interior of the ambulance. She sat on one of the spaces that was allocated against the sides, and watched as Carl taped a little circular patch to Patty's chest, the red wire leading to a now beeping piece of machinery. She watched as Patty's heartbeat was echoed before being drawn onto the black face of the machine in bright blue lines.
The doors slammed, before another was opened in the front, and the unnamed medic started the engine. They stole away, almost completely silently, as they exited Prescott Street and headed down the highway which led to the hospital. The flick of a switch, and sirens blazed into existence. They wailed their way down the road, roaring in Penny's ears, louder and louder as Patty's heartbeat thumped in her ears. Without resistance, she collapsed sideways into Carl's lap, who somehow seemed to be ready for the incident.
Then everything went black.
The consistent beeping jarred in her ears, and immediately she opened her eyes. White blinded her, some kind of opposite suffocation, and the beeping in her ears raced into a sprint. As she blinked, the white dissipated in shape and colour, turning out to be a hospital room in which no was there. Her memories had returned already, and she understood that Paul could never be in that room with her again, and although she did not accept it, she knew it was true. But Patty was a different matter. She sat up, pulling against wires that had been taped to her breastbone, and swung her legs out of bed, bare feet meeting cold lino. An annoying, monotonous sound peeled from the machine, and immediately the door burst open before she even reached it. Two white coated doctors entered, both poised and ready with equipment, but they stopped when they saw the bed empty.
The black haired doctor, who Penny identified as Dr Jared Pennington, from the badge on his coat, turned to Penny, finally noticing her. 'What are you doing?' he asked, approaching her warily, as if she was some kind of trapped, dangerous animal. The flats of his palms faced her, and she wondered if she looked dangerous to him.
'I am going to find my daughter' she said haughtily, planning to push past the two figures, but Dr Pennington's hand caught hold of her wrist. She turned, facing him so that they were eye to eye. She watched her own movements in the reflection of his glasses; his green irises a background colour, and saw that she looked scarily wild. His eyes peered at her, wide and a little scared, but he held fast to her hand as she pulled against him.
'If you could just wait, I would gladly get a nurse to bring her in' he said calmly, but she pulled away again, desperate to see that no harm had come to Patty whilst she had been out for who knew how long. His hand slipped, and seizing her opportunity, she elbowed her way closer to the door.
'I have to see her' she growled, but Pennington quickly restrained her, squeezing against her wrist, and forcing her to stay put. She glared at him, but he didn't back off, instead kept hold of her. Deciding to give up, she allowed herself to be contained whilst her own daughter was brought to her from another room in the hospital.
Mere minutes later, a blonde haired nurse bought in Patty, who was swaddled in white blankets. Pennington immediately let her go, and she sprung forwards, reaching out for her baby, who was quickly put into her arms. Glad to see that she actually still had a baby, and she had not been abducted, attacked or killed by demons, she kissed her nose, smiling as she wrinkled her nose and stared at her with big, blue eyes. Those eyes were curious ones that seemed already older than what she was. She examined her girl, looking for any sign of injury that was not demon made, and the nurse who had bought her in obviously noticed this, going in to quell her anxieties.
'You have a completely healthy baby girl, Miss Halliwell, seven pounds and six ounces. Exceedingly beautiful' she added on the end, smiling up at her, showing her understanding and that she was also a mother.
'Thank you' she said, and she meant it.
As soon as Patty had been bought in, time no longer meant anything, as she had nothing to achieve. Dr Pennington and the Nurse had talked to her about parental issues, and diaper sizes, food types and breast feeding before asking her if she had any questions. Having actually tuned out for most of the talk, instead focusing on Patty's features, like the curve of her lips when she smiled, she looked up, startled.
'Can we go home yet?' she questioned, looking up for the first time at a clock which hung just above the door. The red hand ticked round, and the thick black line slipped forwards, making it half past eleven, morning time. She frowned at the sudden time jump, but let it pass as Dr Pennington answered her question.
'As soon as the police have asked you a few questions, yourself and your daughter are free to leave. I'm quite sure the police will give you a ride home' he added tactfully. She bit her lip, hoping that she had remembered the partial story she had told yesterday to the police officers.
A knock at the door interrupted the conversation. The police man from yesterday stepped through followed by the same woman from the day before as well.
'Can we ask you a few questions, Miss Halliwell?' the policeman asked, his hands already deep in his pockets as he stared at her with grey eyes. Immediately Pennington and the Nurse left, nodding at the two officers before smiling encouragingly at Penny herself. As the door closed, the officers introduced themselves.
'I'm Officer Ryan Pure, and this is Officer Lira Clark. We're just here to find out what happened yesterday' he told her, as he took one chair and offered it to Officer Clark, who smiled and took it. He stood, leaning against the back of the chair.
'So, what exactly happened yesterday?' Officer Clark asked her hands clasped together in her lap, as she stared at Penny.
Adjusting Patty to her other arm, hoping not to jostle her awake, Penny sighed, before telling them her story.
'My husband and I were prepared to go to hospital, as I was in labour, but we couldn't get out of the driveway because it was Independence Day, and of course, it was awfully busy. So I decided to have the baby at home, well actually I had no choice. I was upstairs; fully dialated, and suddenly I heard glass breaking downstairs'. Both officers had taken out their notepads as she paused for breath, and the scratch of pen on paper took the room.
She looked at them a little longer, their vast and immediate interest taken with her and her murder case. Beneath the pain and the grief she felt a little guilty, taking up police time with a case that could never be solved, one that would eventually be stuffed into a cabinet under lock and key and marked 'Unsolved'. She felt bad leading these people on a wild goose chase.
She overcame her guilt when the room resumed silence, and the two officers were staring at her, obviously waiting for her to continue her story.
'Obviously I couldn't investigate, so Paul went, and suddenly there was the sound of fighting. Paul was defending me, because there were two of them, and they had forced him upstairs. At this point I was pushing, when I heard a yell, and a thud and then nothing. The men took my grandmothers diamond necklace, and then they left'. Her heart was thudding in her ears, as she tried to calm herself down. It wasn't helping that running through how her husband had died, was killing her inside.
Officer Pure looked at her, but not suspiciously, before scribbling down something on his notebook. 'So, after you'd given birth to your daughter, what did you do?'
'I took myself and my daughter downstairs to investigate. I was halfway down the stairs when I saw him, and I froze up. He had been stabbed, it was pretty obvious as his shirt had been ripped open and he was covered in blood. I- I knelt down next to him, checked his pulse, and he was still there, but only just. He woke up, and he talked to me, and I showed him our daughter, and then' she gulped in air as the pain ripped open in her, jagged and hot, as tears built in her eyes.
'And then he stopped moving, and suddenly he was gone. After that, I put Patty in the living room, before calling for an ambulance. And then you both were there for the rest'. She looked up, saw them both scribbling down notes with sad expressions painted on tired faces.
'And when did you call the emergency services?' Clark asked, putting her paper down, and looking at Penny in a way that made her feel as if she was an object at a museum, under constant surveillance.
'I called them at about quarter past eleven' she sniffed, wiping at her eyes to clear them.
'And did you get a good look at these men that attacked your husband?' Pure asked his voice soft as if to express his condolences.
'No. All I saw of them was their backs when they passed my door. They were both wearing black, although one of them was wearing a white shirt and red tie... But no, I did see one of their faces. It was when he threw something at me, and it sailed behind me and smashed through the window'.
'And what did he look like? Was he tall, short?' Pure waved his hand airily, motioning for her to do a description.
'He was about six foot something, but skinny, although his arms were muscled. He was blonde, with very pale skin, and glasses, almost geeky looking but sinister at the same time. He had the beginnings of a goatee and a thick moustache' she reeled off from the top of her head, partially describing Jack, her next door neighbour and the butcher all in one.
'Did you or your husband ever have any enemies or can you think of any reason why the attack took place?'
She thought carefully about her answer, knowing that she had plenty of enemies, demon and a few demonic humans, but she couldn't say that to the police. 'I can't think of anyone who would want to hurt us. I think it was just a random, horrible attack'.
'Thank you for your time' Clark said, closing her notebook, before sticking it into a hidden pocket in her black jacket. 'We'll launch a search for these men, Miss Halliwell, and we promise that we will do everything we can to find them and bring them to justice'.
Penny looked at the Officers sadly. They were convinced that they had everything under control, that they would find the 'people' who did this and cure of her injustices. But she knew otherwise. The creatures that had done this to her were no human low life's with vendetta's, but creatures with blood thirst and plots.
'Thank you' Penny sighed, as they left, and she was once again left alone with her child. Gently lowering herself into bed, resting Patty on her chest, she breathed a vow. 'I promise that I will protect you from everything and anything. I will never let that demon scum touch you'.
She hoped and prayed that she would be able to keep that vow.