Chapter 8

The Snow wolves edged closer to the log cabin, but stopped inside the edge of the forest; invisible to the human eye. Two of the wolves sat back on their haunches, started to blur, and then Henbane and another Shape-shifter returned to their human shapes.

"What do you think, Lother?" Henbane indicated the cabin with a nod.

The other pursed his thin lips, and scratched the stubble on his chin. "The wolves are sensing magic nearby and the kids we saw in the store live here. I think this is the right place."

"So do I, but we need to make sure."

"Can't we just take them?"

"And risk exposure if we're wrong?" Henbane shook his head. "No, we need to tread carefully. Besides, I don't want the children."

"You don't? I thought the Queen…"

"The Queen has no idea what they are. We wouldn't be able to contain them, much less harm them. The two men, on the other hand, don't have any magic, but the trick is not to bring them with us; it's to make the witches think we have."

"So why don't we just turn into them?"

"They won't buy that again. We have to bring them something more convincing. Like a… finger?"

Lother grinned, showing a row of white teeth. "You have such a devious mind, Henbane. What are we waiting for?"

"Confirmation."

Barely had he spoken the word when Ruiz blinked in, stumbling to his knees. "Henbane!" he wheezed.

"Ruiz? What's happened? Did you find Enrico and the witch?"

"Enrico and Adrian are dead. I found the witch at her home, but she wasn't alone. Some demon was with her. He stopped her from coming with me." He lifted his hand to bare the gaping hole in his chest. It was still sizzling from the heat of the energy bolt.

Lother gasped at the gruesome sight.

Henbane merely glanced down at it. "You're worthless, Ruiz! Did you at least recognize the demon?"

"You've got to help me…" The warlock crumbled to the ground, gasping from pain. "Please…"

"Did you recognize the demon?"

"No, but the witch said his name; Pole or Soul or something like that."

Henbane's eyes narrowed. "Cole?"

"That's it, but it's not important. I blasted him. He's dead. Henbane… help me!"

"He most certainly should be," the Warlock muttered; a grim scowl on his face. "So the infamous Belthazor has returned. I wonder why? Not to mention how?"

"Henbane…!" Ruiz screeched as flames shot up around him; his scream cut short as he vanished.

"It should be impossible," Henbane went on as if he hadn't noticed Ruiz's demise. "But it's the only explanation for the witch's escape back home. You really must admire that bastard half-blood. His sense of survival truly is unsurpassed." For a while he seemed to be deep in thought, and then he snapped out of his contemplating to seize up Lother. "If we're lucky, Ruiz really did off him, but knowing this particular demon, I wouldn't want to bet the farm on it."

"Shouldn't we go there and pick her up?" Lother suggested.

"No. I think it will be a lot better if they come here, but we need to change our plans accordingly. Take the Snow wolves and secure the surroundings. If you encounter them; separate the witch from whatever company she arrives with and take her to the Queen."

"And what will you be doing?" Lother asked, more than a trifle nervous.

"I will go in and set up for step two, according to plan."

"Okay. What if that demon turns up too?"

The Warlock smiled maliciously. "Unlikely, but the more the merrier. After all, it's Christmas."

"If you say so." Shifting back into wolf shape, Lother trotted off into the trees. As he turned around, he could see Henbane had shifted shape. Next moment, he blinked out only to turn up by the door to the cabin, to knock on it. After a couple of seconds the door opened and Henbane was let in. Lother nodded once to himself and gathered the Snow wolves to keep them ready.

Cole's hand was all but inches away when the book moved away from him, and the breath he had been holding, caught in his throat as a shockwave of disappointment blasted through him.

Then he realized that Phoebe had tipped the whole lectern out of his reach, and was standing with her palms resting protectively on the Book of Shadows, and a contrite look on her face.

"Why?" he managed thickly.

Phoebe's look became even more contrite. "I'm…I'm sorry…I just couldn't let you go through with it, Cole. I appreciate what you are willing to risk for me here, but I just realized that I don't want to know. I think maybe we are both better off not knowing."

"We are?" he said, reminding himself that being with Phoebe was to be in a perpetual state of confusion.

"Yes. The fact that you were willing to try told me all I really need to know."

That and the look in his eyes that split second he thought he couldn't touch it; but she didn't tell him that.

"And?" he asked guardedly.

Eyes downcast, Phoebe fingered a bookmark sticking out between the age-old, yellowing pages. Then she inhaled deeply and looked back up at him. "And I think that I should give you the benefit of the doubt."

Relief flooding through him, Cole let himself relax a little. "You're sure?"

"I have to be. If you had been able to touch it, I would have spent forever wondering if it was a trick. And if you hadn't…" Letting the lectern return to its original position, she gave him a grave look. "We would be back to square one, wouldn't we? Who would save Christmas and my sisters then?"

"I guess you're right." Cole nodded. In a sense, he was quite relieved that he didn't have to touch the witches' tome. He had taken a huge chance, but there was in truth nothing he wouldn't risk for Phoebe. It was a fact he had resigned to a long time ago, and while it probably was the reason why he was now eking out some kind of existence in limbo, it was also the reason why he was 'dead', and not Phoebe. In a way, that made it all worthwhile.

"I know I am." Phoebe's dark eyes glittered a little. "So what do we do now? I mean, how do we break the spell?"

"I don't know."

"Excuse me? Why exactly are you here again?"

Cole shrugged. "I asked Erin, but all he would say was 'in the spirit of the season'."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I only wish I knew. You're the witch. Any ideas?"

"Okay…" Coming around to his side, she started to flip through the Book of Shadows. "Maybe I can find something in here." Turning several pages over, she eventually opened a page with 'Christmas' written in elaborate handwriting at the top.

Looking over her shoulder, Cole saw it contained a long list explaining the uses of holly, mistletoe, and various other things adhering to the season, as more than just decorations or ingredients in recipes for cookies.

Phoebe thumbed the page. "Do you think a potion containing some of this would at least counteract the effects of the magic?"

"It's worth a try, but we don't have all that much time to make potions in. As I recall, they don't exactly sort under 'fast food'."

"Well, we have to start somewhere. If I can't break the spell we might as well stay here for all the good we will accomplish without." Finding pen and paper, she quickly copied the list and headed down the stairs.

The kitchen was cluttered with Christmassy things. Phoebe had cut a bough from the Christmas tree, taken down the holly from the mantelpiece, and made Cole fetch the mistletoe down from the ceiling by way of magic. From Piper's spice shelf she had picked out cinnamon, saffron and allspice. There were red apples, dried orange-rings, nuts, cranberries and Piper's Christmas cookies. There were also three small batches of Mint Julep, mulled wine and eggnog – courtesy of Cole, who had taken great pleasure in making them. Especially the sampling, until Phoebe remarked that it would be nice if something was left for the potion.

Munching an apple he had pinched when her back was turned, Cole watched from over by the window with curbed interest while Phoebe stirred pots and added ingredients.

She had changed a lot since he first set eyes on her, six years ago. Then she had still been a young girl, a slip of a witch, a wench full of childish innocence, still believing all things were either good or bad, black or white.

That Phoebe, that girl, was gone today; replaced by the woman in front of him. A woman whom nine years of fighting evil and putting her life on hold to do it, had made her wise and weary beyond her years. It was in her voice, in the lines in her face, and in the way she carried herself; a maturity and inner strength that came from finding out the hard way that the world was not the place you thought it would be and you were there to stop it from getting worse. The weight of the accepted responsibility made her more regal than the Winter Queen could ever hope to be. Cole thought it made her more beautiful than ever.

Maybe I stole your heart and soul, but at least I gave them back to you. The Elders stole your life and your innocence. They owe you more than they can ever repay.

"Damn it!" Phoebe threw the ladle – quite un-regally – into the pot, making potion splatter all over the stove. "This isn't working."

"That's the fourth batch that you've thrown out," Cole remarked. "Not that I want to rush things, but we do have a deadline to keep."

"Don't talk to me about 'deadlines'!" Phoebe muttered. "Maybe I took too much of the cinnamon?"

"Maybe you're doing it the wrong way?"

"Maybe you have a better idea? Because if you don't…" She waved the ladle at him and noticed he had gotten hold of the cookie jar. "And will you stop eating my ingredients. You're worse than Wyatt." Retrieving the jar, she sank back against the edge of the kitchen island, absentmindedly fishing out a cookie of her own to nibble on. "Maybe I am doing it the wrong way. I don't even know if this potion should be thrown, swallowed or applied on the skin. And even if I did, how would I know it worked? I don't feel like I'm under any spell. I don't even feel like doing this… What?"

Cole had pushed away from the bench he was leaning on to give her a narrow look. "I think that's it."

"What is?"

"Feelings. You don't feel. The Queen's spell stops you from feeling empathy, but you're an Empath, Phoebe. That must be what Erin meant with 'in the spirit of the season. You don't need a potion to counteract the spell; you can break it all by yourself."

Not sharing his excitement, Phoebe grimaced. "Except they took it away. I don't have that power anymore."

"Yes, you do," he gently prompted. "It's not something anyone can take away, because it's what you are – just like I can't change that I am half…"

"Human?" she filled in, surprising him enough to interrupt himself to try and read her look, but it was too vague and he gave up.

"I was going to say 'demon', but thank you. Point is; you can't not be it. "

"That can't be true. Remember that demon…Vinceres? He took away the empathic powers from a priest, and then Prue got them from him. Thanks to you, I might add."

Cole ignored the jibe. "Except it's not the same thing," he went on to explain. "The priest gave his powers to Vinceres. Weren't they returned to him once Prue relinquished them?"

Phoebe gave him a distressed look. It was obvious she wasn't thrilled about this idea. "What if I don't want them back?"

"Without empathy, you die on the inside, and believe me; that's worse than being dead on the outside. If you want to break the Winter Queen's hold on you, you have to break open whatever block the Elders put on your empathic powers."

For a moment it looked like Phoebe was going to accept his solution, but then she shook her head. "No. I can't do it. I had so little control over it; in the end it caused more trouble than it was useful. It went so far we had to write a spell to partially block it."

"You did what?"

"We had to. It was driving Paige and Piper nuts that I kept telling them what they felt before they… Do you know how annoying it is when you laugh at me like that?"

"I'm sorry, but it's just…perfect. If you can make a spell for a partial block, surely you can make a spell to unblock it."

Phoebe opened her mouth to object, hesitated, made a renewed effort, and gave up as she had to admit that Cole's argument couldn't be argued with. "Unfortunately, I don't have any better ideas, so I guess I better start on that spell."

An hour later, Phoebe had consulted the Book and had a spell ready.

"I hope this will work," she said while arranging with a deep silver plate on a tripod over a lit candle, sprinkling small parts of Christmas ingredients into it. "The heat will release the essential oils in these. I need to say the spell, add some of my blood, and inhale the fumes." Having finished by sprinkling saffron over the bowl, Phoebe wiped her hands against her thighs. "That ought to do the trick, but I am not going up against that Queen of yours with a power I can't control, so once the block is off and the spell broken, I will block it again."

"Okay. What if you need it?"

"That's the easy part." Holding up a small skin pouch, Phoebe dangled it for him to see. "All I have to do is bag the contents in the bowl and keep it with me. When I need the power; I just untie it and inhale."

They watched in silence as the things in the bowl slowly began to dry and shrivel. After a couple of minutes, the sweet scent of orange, cinnamon, clove and the turpentine from the fir, mingled with the crisper smell of holly and mistletoe, filling the dining room.

"Okay…" Looking about, Phoebe found that there were no more preparations to be done, and picked up a ceremonial knife. "Wish me luck!" She gave him a quick smile – her nervousness shining through the bravery.

"Christmas spirit has gone sour

Holly, fir and saffron flower

Release me from this ivory tower

Return to me my Empath's power."

Without hesitation, Phoebe brought the sharp knife to her left ring finger and pricked it. Ruby red drops of blood dripped into the potpourri, and hissed as they landed on the hot metal. There was the telling explosion, rising rather suddenly in a small puff of aromatic smoke that Phoebe leaned forward to inhale.

Cole eyed her closely as she opened her eyes again and slowly let out the breath she had been holding for a couple of seconds. "Did it work?"

Phoebe blinked as she tried to sense any difference. "I don't know." Avoiding looking at him, she busied herself with tending to her bleeding finger.

"Maybe we should find out," he suggested as she fumbled with the band-aid.

"I don't know how," she muttered sullenly.

"All you have to do is let yourself feel."

"How would you know?"

"Trust me. I know."

Phoebe's knuckles were going white from squeezing the knife she was still holding on to. She could feel the Winter Queen's spell melting away, but it wasn't just the spell that made her cringe mentally. The biggest obstacle was standing in front of her, his concern shining through in his eyes and every move, no matter how hard he tried to hold it back. For any number of reasons, Cole was the last person whose feelings she wanted to feel. "No," she whispered, throat constricting. "I'm not ready. I'm not ready for you."

As she stubbornly refused to look up, he put it all on one card, and reached out to touch her chin ever so lightly to make her meet his eyes.

"It's just me, Phoebe," she heard him say in that soft, tender voice of his; an echo from happier times, bringing back memories, snagging at feelings she thought long forgotten.

Cole's blue-green eyes looked straight into hers, and she found it impossible to look away. Lips pressed together, she looked up at him, and thought it was odd – scary and odd – that after all this time, after all they had been through, he could still make her feel safe with him. Safe to be all she could be.

Closing her eyes, Phoebe took a shaky breath, and let herself feel

"I…I need to sit down." Ignoring the hand he extended to her, Phoebe took herself to the couch in the living room and sank down in it. It hadn't been hard at all to locate the right place inside her. It wasn't even hard to trigger it. The difficult part was to control the amount of feelings that had washed over her when the spell finally burst. She had tried to open up slowly, just a little bit, but it was like trying to hold back a tidal wave. It had crashed over her and all but inundated her.

Taking deep breaths, she pressed her fingers against her temples and concentrated on the floorboards until she had the whole thing under control again. In a flash she had been privy to all Cole's feelings. There was anger, love and fear, hope and despair; all in a jumbled blur of intense emotions, but most of all there was this heartfelt pain, strong enough to completely knock the breath out of her.

Somewhere in the farrago of emotions, he was also hiding a big secret, but the onslaught had been too great to sort out any details.

"Phoebe?" Cole's voice sounded slightly husky, and she immediately sensed his concern for her.

"It's like getting a plug of wax out of your ear," she observed dully. "Everything suddenly gets louder and clearer."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm just a little overwhelmed."

"I'm sorry."

"I know." Phoebe flashed him a small smile. "Don't be. It worked, just like you said and I am actually quite happy it did." Taking a deep breath, she pushed off from the couch. "I suddenly feel terrible for wanting to go to Hollywood on Christmas instead of being with my family, but I feel better for feeling worse – if that makes any sense."

"More than you'll know."

"Well, for what it's worth: Thank you."

She had no other purpose than to give him a quick peck on the cheek out of gratitude and for old times' sake. A friendly, little touch in passing, just to say thanks, but she was a little too wrapped up in the squall of emotions and her lips didn't land on his cheek.

His lips were soft and surprised to meet hers. Too surprised to back away out of her reach. Too surprised to respond at all.

Almost a little indignant over his blank response, she found herself lingering on his lips, insisting that he acknowledged her display of gratitude.

The scent of orange flowers grew strong in Cole's mind and unable to stop himself he slid his arm around her, leaning down so she would get a little closer. Slowly, hesitantly, his mouth opened and with trembling lips he allowed her entry – allowed himself to taste her again.

The sensation of him so close to her, triggered a million responses inside Phoebe. Her body tingled with a tension and desire she hadn't felt in years. Suddenly hungry for that feeling, she pressed a little closer and on reflex the tip of her tongue flickered lightly over his lips, touching the tip of his tongue. In response, his lips closed gently around hers, kissing her lower lip, kissing her upper lip, kissing her mouth; breathing into her in faint and shallow breaths that echoed her own. Beneath her hands she felt his soft, clean-shaven chin. Around her shoulder she felt his strong arm holding her, his other hand gently supporting her head as he leaned down even more.

Mesmerized, Cole felt her tongue hesitantly venture behind his lips and chased after it as it pulled out, luring it back – and it came back, slightly bolder, even eager to be back.

Hearts beating faster and faster, they found and got lost in one another's kiss, drawing it out, making it last as long as it could be, because the unspoken condition was that it could only be one little kiss.

One little kiss, which they built big and strong, feeding it with tenderness and held back desire, feeding it with erotic feelings and mutual passion. The ticking time bomb of love began to pulse in their loins, spreading through their veins and up to their hands and lips, making them breathe in shallow gasps as it hindered their halting breaths to reach their lungs, filling them up with desirous longing instead.

Pressing closer, Phoebe invited him to move his hands over her body and inside her clothes. She wanted him – no, needed him – to pick her up and never let go. The feeling of belonging and being absolutely safe spread out inside her, familiar and alien at the same time. She just wanted to disappear in his embrace; it felt so right, so absolutely, perfectly and undoubtedly right. She hadn't felt like this in years – not since...

Suddenly realizing why it was so, Phoebe caught her breath and the mood broke.

Like the last chord in a song rolls out and fades away, the kiss ebbed out as her lips slowly slid away from his mouth; a thin string of saliva uniting them a brief moment longer while their mouths still remained half open, half an inch apart.

"Phoebe…" he breathed, eyes closed; still enthralled by the kiss he never thought he would taste again. "Phoebe…"

What are you doing…?

"Cole…" His name stuck in her throat along with his kiss and she swallowed and tried again. "Cole, I…" She could feel his shallow breath on her face. "I'm sorry…I can't…" Her words were barely audible.

"I'm sorry too," he whispered back, and his hands slowly slid away from her body.

"It's just a stupid side effect of being an Empath." Closing her eyes, not ever wanting to open them again, Phoebe leaned her forehead against his chest and felt the warm, almost sensuous smell of his body surround her. It was all coming back to her; and it was all too late.

"I can't do this again, Cole," she finally said in a voice made hoarse by the lump in her throat. "It was so much pain and struggle for so few moments of happiness. We fought so hard and gained so little. I…" Her voice disappeared into the faintest of whispers as she spoke the words he had waited so long to hear. "I loved you, Cole. So help me God, I loved you so much." Sobbing, she buried into his shirt and his arms tightened around her, her words sending such sweet pain through his body. "I can't go through all that again," she continued after a few shivering breaths. "It's just too much… of everything. You saw what happened to us. We turned into monsters. Don't you think that is the Universe trying to tell us something?"

"Yes, I do." He tipped her face up to look at. Her brown eyes were rimmed with a quiet desperation and her lips trembled slightly. "But I don't think it is saying what you think it's saying."

If you had held on to love…

Recalling she could read his feelings, he abruptly interrupted that train of thought.

Tears of anger and grief in her eyes, Phoebe stared up at him, defiantly and beseeching at the same time. "Why did you turn evil? What was it that you needed so badly that you couldn't resist? Why wasn't I enough, Cole?" She had told herself so many times that she should have known better than to think she could change the ultimate bad boy, known better than to think love would be enough. But she had also thought they had something more… "Why couldn't love be enough?"

That's where you are wrong, Phoebe.

His arms closed around her again, held her close to his body. "Love was more than enough, Phoebe. You were more than enough. Never believe anything else. If it wasn't for you…" I would be dead in a very nasty sense of the word… He swallowed back. "You were the reason I left my demonic life and ways behind me. You were the reason I kept fighting The Source even after he had fully possessed me. Without love, without you, that would not have been possible."

What bittersweet irony that the same thing that turned him good would be the same thing that turned him back to evil. "I didn't want to be evil ever again. Please, believe that. I would rather die than see either of us evil… but it wasn't my life they threatened to take."

Feeling how she stopped breathing for several heartbeats, he continued in a strangled whisper. "I didn't know what else to do. The Seer was up to something, but I knew no other way to save you. I just hoped that if I saved you first, the rest could be dealt with later."

He found a way too; the wizard! But the Seer thwarted his one shot at freedom; found the one thing that would keep him evil; an evil Phoebe. He had no choice after that. The scales had been tipped in The Source's favor, and all he could do was try to keep Phoebe as safe as possible. "Things didn't work out the way I hoped they would."

Phoebe bit her lip. "You should've told me."

"I tried. He wouldn't let me."

"I meant when you came back," she pressed, a slight irritation creeping into her voice. "Why didn't you tell me?"

His jaws clenched a little. "Why didn't you ask?" He didn't need empathic powers to sense the grudging guilt that made her shoulders tense and eyes veer away. "Besides, would you have believed me if I did? You had already decided I was evil – all I could do was try to prove you wrong." There was no accusation, no harshness in his voice – only regret. After a moment's pause he added softly: "I failed."

"We both failed," she whispered back.

There was a long silence as they just stood there; close together but separated forever by Fate and the choices they made. There were no second chances, no going back or starting over; their lives might run parallel for a little while, but their paths were forever severed.

Eventually, Phoebe inhaled a long, halting breath. "Why did this happen to us? I don't think I will ever understand that."

"We never do," he sighed. "I've been around a while, Phoebe. Believe me, when it comes to Fate we seldom get the chance to understand. We're just along for the ride and hold on the best we can. You and me, we were just pawns in this game between Good and Evil. You were destined to vanquish the Source and I was destined to fall in love with you. Everything happens for a reason – remember?" He sighed again and shrugged a little. "I guess it was inevitable."

Phoebe looked up at him, eyes searching his face. "Meant to be?" Her voice was very small.

Gently, he wiped her cheek dry with his thumb; letting it caress her soft, warm skin. "Just not how we meant it to be."

"No," she said in a near whisper, eyes veering down and away again. "And then they gave us a new destiny and you were not made a part of it." Heaving a deep sigh, Phoebe seemed to compose herself again and stepped back, out of his embrace. As his arms fell away from her, she pulled a hand through her hair and smoothed out a non-existing wrinkle in the sweater. "So…" She cleared her throat. "Is there a reason why you are here this time?"

"Just to help you save Christmas."

"And then what?"

"Then I go away again."

"For good?" For so many reasons, that question burned in her mind.

"Probably."

"What if I asked you to stay?"

She had no idea why she had asked him that. She had no intention whatsoever to ask. It just fell off her tongue before she could stop it, and she braced for his answer.

Cole felt how his body froze as the mere thought of staying created a strange, swirling feeling that spread from his stomach to every part of his body, making it buzz and tingle with a strange paralysis.

I wish I could tell you the truth, but I can't.

Realizing he had stopped breathing, he exhaled slowly. "It's not my choice. I only have until midnight."

"Midnight?" His unexpected answer was relieving and worrying at the same time.

"Yes, so we have to get this show on the road before I turn into a pumpkin."

His little joke broke the tension and Phoebe couldn't help but smile a little. "You know," she said, peering up at him. "That actually happened to me once. Not a very pleasant experience."