At the familiar rattle of the backdoor, Lila Patience Halliwell gave a long sigh. Disgruntled lines pulled down her lovely round face; a face that had been stealing hearts since her birth twenty-four years earlier. It would be wrong to say that she was lovelier than the rest. All of the Halliwell daughters had been graced with a trademark beauty but Lila was something completely different. Yes, there were still traces of the Halliwells, but so much of her seemed to embody Coop's out of this world allure. Her hair tumbled down her shoulders in chocolate waterfalls, moving with grace even if she had just crawled out of bed. Her lips were full and glassy. Her cheeks were always smooth and touched with a light blush. And her eyes were large portals of russet fantasy, identical to Coop's glowing gems. Yes, it was almost as if Lila's looks had been simply another supernatural gift.

Now, however, as she glared down her elder sister, her heavenly sparkle seemed to fade. "I'm leaving," she said, her heels clicking against the wood floor as she stalked out of the living room.

"What do you mean you're leaving?" Lucy shot up, leaning on the couch to balance her battered leg.

"Yeah, we're not done here. Mom said we can't leave until we figure this out," Laura replied.

"Well, from the sounds of it, mom and everyone else left," Lila said. She stopped in the foyer, grabbing her coat from its hook, listening as her sister's footsteps came to a halt a few feet away from her.

"You're just going to walk away?"

"Yeah, taking a page out of my big sister's book," Lila scoffed. She adjusted her hair and locked stares with Laura. "Listen, there's no point arguing anymore. We keep going in circles. I'm tiered and we haven't made any progress. This is all on you now. You have to figure this out because I am done, Laura. Make a decision so it can be over . . ."

"But it's not," Laura murmured. "It's not over. It never will be. Whatever I choose will follow me for the rest of my life. If I decide not to do this, you'll-you'll hate me. I lose my sister. That's not a fair choice."

"Well, what do you expect? You expect me to be fine with you denying my destiny? Because you're not just choosing for you Laura. You're choosing for me, you're choosing for Lucy, and you're choosing for the rest of the family. Not to mention the future of good. So sorry if I am less than thrilled about you choosing a normal life!"

Her argument went interrupted as an interloper suddenly shimmered into the foyer. Lila's wide eyes glistened with alarm and Laura furrowed her brow in confusion, unable to spot the demon who was preparing a fireball behind her. "Demon!" Lila bellowed.

With not a second to spare, Laura turned to find a flaming sphere inches from her face. On instinct she put up her hands and froze the object before it could inflict damage. Lila reacted just as quickly and as soon as the fireball was rendered motionless she sent it back at its owner with a well measured use of telekinesis. The demon easily dodged it, cheekily stepping out of the way, allowing it to smash into the wall behind him.

"Hey in here!" Lucy barked with urgency.

Both sisters exchanged glances of apprehension before simultaneously teleporting out in identical pink flashes and landing in the living room at their sister's side. A burly demon had a forearm wrapped around Lucy's neck and another stood with a fireball a short distance away.

There was a moment of complete stillness that was much shorter in actuality than it felt. But in that moment the three sisters exchanged knowing glances and secret nods. Just as the demon from the foyer entered to join his associates, Lucy slammed an elbow into the adversary who had a firm hold on her. Lila quickly kicked the same demon in the back of the head, freeing her younger sister from his grasp. In the mean time Laura sent a blast at one of the two burly demons, sending him thudding to the floor. Simultaneously his partner threw a fireball toward Laura's direction. She ducked down to the floor, looking up just in time to see Lila strike him with a telekinetic attack.

Despite her lack of balanced mobility, Lucy punched the demon she faced across the jaw. As he groaned in pain and faltered, she quickly grabbed the nearby chair and swung it above her head and down onto his. The wood splintered and broke into pieces as he was rendered unconscious, collapsing in a heap on the ground. She smirked at her work, only snapping out of her happy trance at the voice of her sister.

"Lucy!" Laura cried out. When Lucy glanced up her oldest sister was running at full speed for her. A fireball was on a direct route for her face and Lucy closed her eyes, prepared for the inevitable.

"Shit," she muttered. Lucy groaned to herself. Those were going to be her last words? So lame.

Laura hurled her body onto Lucy's, forcing her from her feet and tackling her to the ground. The fireball whizzed past her ear and smashed into a table across the room. Lila, the only one on her feet, threw the demon into the nearby wall. As he slid to the floor she glanced over her shoulder, finding her sisters' out of sight. "Are you okay?" she called with worry.

"We're fine!" Laura answered.

"Speak for yourself," Lucy grumbled.

Laura popped up from behind the couch prepared to strike another demon with an explosion, however, the trio of attackers soon shimmered out before the fighting could continue, leaving the sisters panting for breath. Lila slowly regained her composure and strode over to meet her sisters. Laura was carefully getting to her feet, using the sofa to help herself up. Lucy was then offered a hand from both sisters who pulled her to her feet.

"Close call," she muttered.

"Yeah, when are you going to learn that you can't turn your back to the fight?" Lila asked.

"Really, not now. I get enough nagging from mom," Lucy said, hopping on one foot to the sofa.

"I'm just trying to help. Wouldn't be the first time you almost got yourself killed because . . ."

"Guys, fire," Laura interrupted, pointing over to the flaming table. Almost instantaneously the fire alarm gave a shrill scream.

"I got it," a calm voice said behind them. The three turned to find Joey entering, a fire extinguisher in his grasp. Without any difficulty he sprayed the leaping flames, not stopping until they had been completely evaporated.

"Thanks Joey," Laura said as he set the extinguisher down. "I didn't know you were still home."

"Yup," Joey answered with a sigh. "Sorry I wasn't much use."

"What are you talking about? You're our own personal firefighter," Lucy smiled.

"Awesome," he scoffed.

"Great, I said something wrong again," she groaned.

"Lucy…" Lila began.

"What the hell is with you today?" she snapped.

"It's not you, okay!" Joey growled. "I just . . . I'll be in the kitchen . . ."

The three sisters watched as he stomped off. "Should I go talk to him?" Laura asked.

"Not now," Lila murmured. "Unfortunately we have more serious matters at hand."

"Those demons were upper-level. They didn't die when Laura blasted them," Lucy whispered in realization. Lila nodded. Laura's brow furrowed.

"What?" the eldest asked. "What are you getting at?"

"We need the Power of Three…"


"I didn't mean to Chris…"

"I know you didn't mean to, Kate," he grumbled with as much patience as he could muster. He sat in a booth at the corner of Callaghan's Saloon with his belligerent cousin at his side. His face scrunched in disgust as he examined the greasy table and crusty cushions of the establishment. Grime and wastefulness were of Chris' many pet peeves. Just being in the disorganized bar made his skin crawl.

"You want a beer? You should get a beer. Lets get some more," Kate slurred. She waved at the bartender across the dim lit establishment. "Vince! Over here!"

"No, Kate, stop it," Chris hissed, snatching down her wrist.

"Hey!" she whined.

"Kate, we're done drinking for tonight," he told her. He quickly grabbed her remaining beer before she could try to take another drink.

"That's mine," Kate growled.

"Kate, you're drunk," Chris sighed.

"I'm not drunk," she spat.

"No, you are. I'm here to take you home," he said.

"I don't want to go home."

"Well, too bad, I'm taking you back."

"No! Why are you-you always sodamn bossy," Kate hissed. Her words stumbled and smashed in her drunken state and Chris ran a frustrated hand down his face.

"Kate, what are you doing here?" he asked.

"I just wanted to get a drink," she groaned dramatically.

It was then Chris took notice of the streak of ash across her neck and the tangled clumps of her hair. Her leather jacket was completely zipped up, an indicator that she was hiding something. "Where were you before?"

"Nowhere," she hiccupped.

"Kate, where were you?"

"Just around," she gurgled. "I-I-I went down…and then I went up…and now I'm here."

"Down? Down to the Underworld?" Chris choked.

"Yup!" Kate chirped. She suddenly came up with hysteric giggles and Chris furrowed his brow in confusion. "You know, you're cute…"

"Kate, I'm your cousin," he said dryly.

"I just want to pinch your cheeks…" she slurred. In an instant her fingers were clumsily squishing Chris' face and he squirmed away in annoyance. "Hey!"

"Okay, that's enough, we're getting out of here," Chris told her.

"No. I'm not done," Kate protested.

"Nope. You're done," he said.

"Beer," she suddenly called. The beer that Chris had swiped from her moments earlier was suddenly engulfed in orbs and then magically placed in her palm. His olive eyes widened in complete anxiety while Kate gave a chuckle.

"What the hell is wrong with you!" he hissed, glancing over his shoulders to make sure none of the other customers had seen her trick. When he was sure no one had seen her, he quickly stood and wrapped a firm hand around her arm. With a little too much force he yanked her out from the booth and onto her feet. "We're leaving right now."

"No!" she growled.

"Fine, then we'll do this the hard way," Chris threatened. In one fluid swoop he bent down and grabbed Kate by her knees before swinging her over his shoulders and holding her like a sack of potatoes. She screeched and pounded at his back but he was hardly fazed. After years of demon attacks and chaotic battles Kate's protests were hardly anything worth fretting over. The other customers stared as he walked out and the bartender gave him a bemused nod. "Thanks Vince…"


Melinda Halliwell gave a gentle sigh as she put her car into park and turned off the headlights. For a long pause she sat in the driver's seat, hands still wrapped around the wheel as a lively San Francisco night reflected off the windows. Her coffee eyes were filled with tender desolation which she had been doing her best to keep concealed for the past week.

The heart of her mother and the genuine compassion of her father; that's what they said Melinda had. As much of a compliment as that was, however, she couldn't help but often find herself resentful. The excess of emotions that came with her genetic disposition sometimes seemed unfair. It wasn't that she had it worse than everyone else. It was just that while everyone felt bad, Melinda not only had to deal with her own saddened spirits but those of the people around her. It was such times that she simply wished for a normal, magic-free life. One she would unfortunately never attain.

A rapping on her window yanked her from her tiered stupor and she jumped in her seat, throwing a hand over her chest. The fluid laugh of her brother was muffled behind the window and she rolled her eyes as she realized it was Wyatt.

"Good evening," he greeted, offering a hand to help her out of the car. Melinda grudgingly took it and he threw the door shut. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's all right," she replied.

There was a strong bond between Piper Halliwells children, almost as if they were their very own personal power of three. Wyatt and Chris had been best friends since childhood and when Melinda was born, they both quickly suited up into the roles of protective older brothers. She had spent most of her youth attempting to keep up with them, whether it was joining in on their games of football or pushing her way into their demonic troubles. Then when they grew older, they became less squabbling playmates and more like confidants. Wyatt was the optimistic one. Melinda could always count on him to pick her up on her worst days. He had an enthusiastic view on life, an exuberance that was unmatched, and a smile that never seemed to fade. She admired Wyatt's attitude but often wondered how he could possibly retain it day to day. Chris on the other hand was a little more realistic. He was intelligent beyond belief, and often she wondered if he had simply applied himself and given up magic where he could have gone. By now he probably would have graduated from an Ivy-league school and had a job on Wall Street. Instead he was their protector. He was passionate and reliable and self-sacrificing. Chris would do anything for his family and she knew that he would do anything for her. Sometimes with all Chris and Wyatt did, all they brought to the table, she felt guilty with how little she offered them in return.

"Why'd you drive?" Wyatt asked as they made their way across the damp pavement. He hovered high above her at his height but kept an arm around her shoulder. "I could have orbed you here."

"That's okay. I figured it would be suspicious if at least one of us didn't bring a car," Melinda replied.

"Good thinking," he nodded.

"Hey," greeted a voice from the shadows. After a few more footsteps Samantha Mitchell was illuminated under a tall streetlight, joining her cousins with a grim smile.

"Hey, did the Bay Mirror survive press?" Melinda asked.

"Yes. And tomorrow we shall wake up to do it all over again," Sam chuckled.

"I'm never going there again. It's a dangerous place," Melinda teased.

"Your job involves taming teenagers and you think the local press is frightening?" Wyatt asked his sister. He had wrapped his other arm around Sam's shoulder and together the trio made their way for the dreary and foreboding brick building ahead.

"The paper is unpredictable. I was in the line of fire today and fearing for my life," Melinda reasoned.

"Yes, the life of a journalist is very perilous. Much more damaging than our daily demon squabbles," Sam chuckled. "Oh! I almost forgot to mention…when I went back to the office, Jack asked me if you were single."

"Really?" Melinda asked. She quickly shook her head. "I mean, uh, so?"

"You're ridiculous," Sam groaned. "I'm setting you guys up, end of story."

"What? Sammie . . ." Melinda growled. "I thought you had whitelighter genes, not cupid tendencies . . ."

"You'll thank me later."

"Okay, enough of that, we're here for a reason," Wyatt cut in with a roll of his eyes. "Let's try not to dig ourselves a hole. Let me do all the talking…"

"Let you do all the talking? When has that ever worked?" Sam scoffed.

"Hey, I'm the oldest, okay? You just hang back and look cute," Wyatt insisted. By then the group had reached the San Francisco PD precinct. They all paused for a moment, taking in long and calming breaths. In hind sight it was probably not the smartest thing to make a trip to the SFPD but at the same token, there were things to be considered, details to be gathered, and the truth was they were much better off sending some of the family's cooler heads rather than allowing passion and aggressiveness to burst into the precinct.

"Can I help you?" an officer at the front desk asked. The SFPD was buzzing with energy. There were uniformed cops gliding around the premises with purpose, handcuffed predators being led to their cells, and a few shady looking characters glaring from seats along the wall.

"We're looking for a detective Bianca Lawrence," Wyatt answered calmly. He could feel Melinda move closer to him as a bearded and tattooed man reached for her from the seat where he was handcuffed.

"Yeah, I think she's in," the officer nodded. "Hold on…"

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Melinda asked.

"We're already here, aren't we?" Sam replied.

"Well, the exit is still behind us…" she protested with a hiss.

Wyatt and Sam gave no retort as they eyed the approaching figure of authority. Her heels clicked rhythmically along the granite floor and even from several yards away, her dark eyes burned holes in the group. No emotion flickered on her face. She was the epitome of coldness and discreetly the three Halliwells shivered.

"Detective Lawrence," she introduced herself in a monotone. "What can I help you with?"

"I'm Wyatt Halliwell. This is my sister Melinda and my cousin Samantha Mitchell," Wyatt began carefully. "We heard you're investigating my aunt Paige's death."

Something flickered in Bianca's foreboding russet jewels. Her thin lips curved suspiciously with an off-kilter smirk. "Yes. Yes I am," she replied. "I'm guessing you're here to convince me an investigation is not necessary…"

"No," Wyatt assured calmly. "We actually just wanted to know if you have any leads. This is a member of our family we're talking about here."

"Of course," Bianca said. "Follow me…"


Chris grimaced as he made his way up the last step, trying his best to ignore the slurring mass that slumped and stumbled with the aid of his shoulder. Together the pair made their way down the dark hall with only her belligerent comments testing the silence.

"And then there were these demons," Kate ranted on as she kept a limp arm draped around Chris' shoulder.

"You said that," Chris replied.

"It was stupid. So stupid," she slurred.

They rounded the corner into her bedroom and Chris quickly flipped on the light. Kate quickly tripped away and flopped onto the bed and gave an exasperated sigh. While she managed to kick of her shoes, Chris slowly paced around the room, analyzing with little discretion. He scanned the bookcase, trailing along old volumes of National Geographic and Howard Zinn's A People's History. He found it hard to believe he had forgotten Kate's near expertise in history. Though she had graduated community college with an associate's degree in engineering, it had been history that always captivated her interest. He continued on toward the small desk beneath the window. It was covered with a disarray of papers all filled by Kate's neat cursive. Chris bit on his lower lip as he glared down at the collage of ball point ink. There were lists and lists of demons, drafts of spells, brainstorms of locations, a play-by-play account of Paige's death, and other concerning documents that centered around a fixation on her mother.

"What are you doing?" Kate hiccupped from the bed.

"Nothing," he muttered, turning around to face her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to him.

"It's all right," Chris assured. He sighed and took a seat on the mattress. "Just get some sleep okay?"

"You're mad."

"I'm not mad."

"I just want to finish this. I need to finish it," Kate mumbled.

"Finish what?"

"Figure out who…who killed mom," she explained with another slur. "I just want the dreams to go away. And maybe if I can just finish it, everything will stop hurting so bad."

A frown pulled at Chris' mouth. "Kate, it's not going to go away. No matter what you do."

"Easy for you to say. Both your parents are still alive," she quipped.

"I know it can't be easy, but you're not helping anyone by putting your life in danger," Chris said. "I'll help all right? You don't have to do this alone."

"But I am alone," Kate whispered.

A sliver of pain tore through Chris' emerald eyes at her comment. It was the sort of emotion that he always tried to suppress or at least hide. The type of thing that he felt made him weak. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, trying to avoid the strong sentiment his sympathy was stirring up.

"It's going to be okay," he told her. "Just get some rest, all right?"

She nodded, the intoxication still prevalent as she tried to get comfortable on her bed. "Okay," she said.

"I'll check up on you tomorrow," Chris said.

"Wait," Kate nearly exclaimed before he could leave. She gripped onto his hand with desperation, pulling him down close to her. "Chris, you're not going to tell are you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Please, please, just don't tell anyone about this. Not even aunt Piper," she begged. "And don't tell Sam. Especially not Sam."

"Okay, okay," Chris agreed. "I won't. Just promise me you'll take care of yourself."

"I promise," she slurred.

He gave a sad nod. "All right. Good night."

"Good night," Kate called back. "Love you."

"Love you too," he said.


The three Halliwells had to squint their eyes against the bright light that glared down at them in the interrogation room. They sat in a row on one side of the metal table, watching as detective Lawrence preceded with a cheeky smile. With complete ease she carried a stack of cardboard boxes, all plump and stuffed to the brim.

"What are those?" Sam asked.

Bianca dropped them to the table with a thud. Then carefully she began to unstack them, each slamming to the table and displaying its weight.

"These are all the cases that have a connection with the Halliwells," Bianca answered coolly.

"Right…" Wyatt said. "And what does this have to do with my aunt Paige's death?"

"Everything," she replied.

"Really? Because it looks more like you're trying to investigate my family's history rather than figure out what happened to Paige Matthews," Wyatt retorted.

"Just as I suspected," Bianca scoffed.

"What do you mean?"

"You're hiding something," she replied.

"We're not hiding anything - - -"

"Then why the hell do you care whether or not I take a look at these files, huh?" she quipped coldly. She leaned in closer. "You have something you want to tell me Mr. Halliwell?"

"You know we're not hiding anything," Wyatt told her. "Just contact the FBI. You'll find that my mother and aunts were serving the greater good - - -"

"I have contacted the FBI and you'll be surprised to know that several agents have come forward claiming that the Halliwells were never a part of any operation and that hundreds of files regarding them seemed to be "misplaced" following the media attention," Bianca said.

"Sounds like the federal government's problem then, doesn't it?" Sam put in.

Bianca's eyes shifted over to Sam and for a beat the two women exchanged harsh glares. Melinda nervously moved in her seat and timidly opened her mouth.

"Listen, Ms. . . . I mean . . . Detective Lawrence . . . we don't want to cause any trouble. We just want to help find out what happened to Paige so we can put this all behind us . . ." Melinda said. "We know you simply wish to do the same."

Silence filled the space as Bianca pursed her lips. The trio of Halliwells remained seated, staring up at her with contempt as she locked her jaw. Finally she gave a nod. "Of course," she murmured.

"If there's anyway we can help, we'll be happy to comply detective," Wyatt added.

"I'm sure you will be," she answered. Bianca glanced back at the clock hanging on the blank white wall and again grinded her teeth. "I have to get back work . . ."

"Thanks for taking the time to meet with us," Wyatt said.

Bianca nodded as she headed for the door, her heels clicking across the floor. "I'll be contacting your family for statements soon," she told them before the door slammed shut.


His hands trembled uncontrollably as he forced open the door to the kitchen. He couldn't discern whether it was from fear or anger or grief but he knew that an uneasiness swarmed in his gut and his head pounded with frustration. The fingers of his right hand itched and suddenly it balled into a fist. His teeth grinded together as he slammed it down onto the firm kitchen counter, not once but twice. Tears sprang to his eyes and he ran his palms down his cheeks and he stumbled for the small breakfast table.

Joey didn't know how much longer he could suppress it. He was being torn a part by a feeling he never realized he had. No, he wasn't just mourning for his mother's passing. He was troubled with something much more complex. Something that had been following him since childhood. A feeling that erupted at the most obscure times; a feeling of alienation.

His dark eyes fell to the lone paper left on the table. He had been in the middle of reading it before the familiar cries of a demon sprawl interrupted. Now as the letter stared up at him, he didn't know if he had the courage to continue. With a sniffle he lifted it from the mahogany and the tears only stung more fiercely.

To my dearest son,

Henry, if you're reading this it means I'm gone. Since I know you better than anyone, I know that you're hurt. I know that it seems unfair. When you're father died we were all heart broken, but I know you especially were in pain. It wasn't fair to you to lose him then and I know it feels no better to lose me now.

But you're not alone. You've spent a lifetime feeling as though you were on the outside but you're far from it, Henry. You are just as much a part of this family, with or without powers. In fact you have a chance at something this family has always dreamed of; a normal life. Or at least as normal a life a Halliwell can manage. I'm sure that's no comfort but if you can listen to me about one thing, let it be this:

You don't need magic to be powerful. You don't need supernatural abilities to help the greater good or save innocents. You're strong Henry; perhaps stronger than the rest of us. You have gifts. You may not realize them now or be able to see them, but they're there. You have the capacity to do great things. I know you will.

I am so proud of the man you've become. You are so much better than I could have hoped for and I know you're father feels the same. You're the most honorable, smartest, kindest, most selfless person I know. I'm sure you'd say I'm bias but it's true. And I also know that those things are greater than any power. Don't forget that this family needs you as much as you need them.

I love you so very much and whatever you do, I will always be proud of you.

Love,

Mom

P.S. I left you my wedding ring. I hope you give it to the lucky girl you decide to make your wife.

There were tears in Joey's eyes as he finished the letter but a broad smile across his face. For suddenly he knew what he had to do.