Joleca: Glad you're enjoying it

Cherrylilly: Stoic congratulations; I can dig it.

Movieholic: Surely you can't blame me for making you not do your homework. I've been there, when you don't want to, distractions come easy.

A/N: Anybody ever pick a really stupid title for a story and then come to realize, and regret it later? Sigh. Anyway, here is more.

Hellstorm

Chapter 10: Early Morning Showers

It was typical for people so close to hide things from one another, but it was equally typical for their hiding to become obvious. Despite this common situation, Leo hoped that no one noticed his asking Paige to orb them all back to the manor; the first stage of his plan had worked, too. Paige, who had just woken up, was either refreshed enough, or confused enough to accent without asking. Mostly it was wishful thinking that made him not look directly at his wife, who he knew had one of her eye brows cocked. Phoebe and Cole were Phoebe and Cole: they only had eyes for each other, but they had some serious talking to do. Idly he wondered if maybe there were magical beings wise enough with time enough for magical couples therapy.

The manor was as they had left it, sans one crying baby. Leo watched Piper separate from him and stumble to the stairs, his maternal instincts kicking in.

"Oh, look at the time," she began her voice dying as she moved up the stairs, talking to no one in particular. "how long have we been gone, Wyatt's probably hungry," Leo watched him go, weighing his options. He silently monitored the cause of his own aches and bruises, scanning the rest of the group. Paige looked down finally at her ruined outfit, rolling her eyes and sighing.

"Man, look at this shirt," she slowly swept pieces of debris from it. "I just got this shirt," behind her Cole and Phoebe had yet to separate, her hands moving up and down his chest, like she was afraid he'd vanish at any second and all of this would be gone. Leo knew the fleeting sensation she was experiencing. He concentrated. Nothing. He put his head down, waiting for this nice moment to evaporate. 3. 2. 1.

"Leo!" Piper called from upstairs. Everyone turned their attention to a frantic Piper, holding Wyatt's blanket in a clenched fist. "Where is our son?" she asked, walking quickly into the kitchen.

"I took him to Victor's before," he let the sentence trail off hoping she would get it. Her mouth formed a small ring; before she said her next statement he put his hands over his face.

"Well, go get him," she said, and began to turn around. He whispered something he hoped she would dismiss, instead "what? What did you say?" she asked, removing his hands from his face.

"I said I can't," he explained. "I can't orb, or heal, or anything, I don't know what the problem is," he stopped, looking down at his feet. "I've been trying to figure it out, I don't know what happened."

The Seer looked on as the warlock carefully poured the orange powder into a small bowl, then carefully placed the bowl among others with other, differently colored powders.

"This has a very low chance of working the way you want it to," the warlock said over his shoulder, calculating in his mind.

"I know," the Seer retorted, stepping around the table. "However your statement carries with it the implication that with more trials, there will be less error," the warlock considered the small woman before him, his adoration growing suddenly in leaps and bounds. He grinned.

"You know, I'd heard about your predecessor," he said, exchanging one bowl for another so that the powders followed the color spectrum, then reversed his decision. "And I thought she was terribly clever, but I think maybe you," he looked up into her steady gaze. "You almost scare me," then he stepped across the room to check on cauldron, the water inside exuding heat but not boiling. The Seer stared at his back, taking on a faraway look for a moment.

"I suppose it is good for many to think you clever," she spoke cryptically. "But ultimately the better judgment is not how many people knew you to be cunning, but how many did not," she said finally. For just a moment, she allowed herself to be pulled into the river of her premonition power, to glance at things to come. She grinned widely.

Phoebe met Leo's eyes as they retraced their steps. It was the first time she had torn her attention away from Cole in what felt like hours, but she knew what was coming, and although he still held her, and she him, Phoebe began to steel herself against the impact.

"The last time my powers worked was when," Leo paused, his long explanation slowed. "I healed Cole," he finished, cringing and trying to hide the reaction. Paige, her head laying on the kitchen counter picked it up slowly, staring across the room at Cole. Piper controlled herself, swallowing and putting her hands together. It was visibly difficult, but Cole removed himself from the tangle with Phoebe.

"Ok," Piper said, hoping everyone would stop moving. "Ok, so," she looked, almost timidly up into Cole's face. "Before we jump to any sort of conclusion, do you have any explanation for this?" she asked, hopefully she realized. Cole was struck with a pervading sense of dread, and it showed on his face. He shook his head.

"No," he said, finally letting go of Phoebe's hand and passing it through his hair. "None of the powers I harvested,"

"Harvested?" Paige chirped. Piper flailed her arms angrily, shushing her sister.

"None the powers I had could drain someone else's," he finished, concentrating on Piper, who nodded slowly.

"Ok, had," she began. "had is good. Explain had," she thought suddenly. He gestured with a hand, and nothing happened.

"I don't have them any more," he said, putting both hands at his belt. "Or any, as far as I'm aware. I feel," he paused, as if searching for the word. They all waited except for Phoebe, who knew that he had the word he sought; he just didn't want to say it. When you say something, it makes it more real, she thought. "empty," he finished. Leo stiffened as if struck in the back of the head. Piper wheeled on him.

"What's wrong?" she asked, frantic suddenly that something else could be going wrong.

"They're calling me," Leo said quizzically, then a smile spread across his face. "They're called me!" he jumped up and down. Piper paused, confused. "I can hear them," he explained, then orbed across the kitchen and then back again. Piped grinned at him, sharing in her husband's joyful moment.

"I don't understand," she kept smiling, however. Leo put his hands on his wife's shoulders.

"Neither do I, but while I'm up there, I'll be sure to ask," he kissed her on the forehead. "And on the way back I'll stop and pick up Wyatt," and with that he was gone.

"Well, that's good," Paige said, this time not bothering to pick her face up from the counter. "because for a second there I was having some déjà vu, you know, from when," Piper had moved to her baby sister and helped her up.

"Ok, you need some sleep, up you go," Piper mentioned, half supporting her sister towards the stairs. Over Piper's shoulder she shared a look with Phoebe over which much was conveyed. Ultimately, Phoebe realized it was her choice what happened next, that tomorrow was a new day, and that she'd have sisters to support her in whatever she decided. It was a long, slow trudge up the stairs with Paige gradually helping less and less, but eventually, Phoebe and Cole were in the kitchen alone, a pace apart.

In her mind Phoebe had already said half a dozen things that weren't what she wanted to say. They were distractions, or deflections, or stalls. All of them pointed to the fact that she was afraid, and the clarity of the past few months, of that fear, gave her courage. She unconsciously straightened her pants and smoothed her hair. Phoebe's hand brushed up against her purse, which she was surprised was still in tact, along with the rigid card stock inside. She slowly pulled the letter out. Cole's eyes riveted to her hands, and he knew where from she had retrieved it.

"I," she began, testing her voice. She swallowed, trying again. "I haven't gotten a chance to read this," she said, handing it to him, more confidently. "I figured though, that since you wrote it when you thought you had lived your last day, that maybe you wanted to change some things," her eyes met his, questioning. He shook his head.

"Everything in there I meant," he replied, meeting the letter with his hand, but not taking it. "I still do," she brought it back and held it in both hands, nodding quickly.

"Ok,"

"I'm sorry, Phoebe," he said, taking a tentative step towards her. "For putting you and your sisters in danger. That wasn't my intention," she nodded, at first looking away and then staring him directly in the face.

"I know," she said "I'm sorry for leaving you alone. I," she clenched her jaw and willed the tears not to come. "realize you were fighting for us, and you were fighting by yourself. It was so much… easier,"

"To hate me," he finished for her, taking another step. She put a hand against his chest, closing her eyes for a moment, feeling his heartbeat.

"No," she said. "I need to say it," she opened her eyes again, looking up into his. "You have saved us, so many times, and you almost died so many times. I hated you," she pulled up his shirt in her fist. "I hated you for almost leaving me. I hated you for coming back when I thought you were dead. I hated you for not letting me," she started crying, but kept her voice even "for not leaving me alone to hate you, for fighting. And," she breathed, feeling everything all over again "for being you. For making it so hard. It wasn't fair, and I needed to blame someone, be angry at someone," she stared up at him "but it shouldn't have been you. It shouldn't have been you. Everything was so hard, but it was the easiest thing to do," she felt her vision blur as the tears came, full on this time, a deluge that sapped her strength and left her drained. Her knees buckled, but she knew; she knew he'd never let her fall, but Phoebe couldn't say converse was true. After all, hadn't she. Voices came to her, near and far, familiar and otherwise, enemies and friends. So many had had their hand in their relationship, and it had been rare for her to stand by him, with him, and not falter.

The dense nugget of pain though had began to crack, chip, and wear, and she smiled on the inside, feeling that just outside of it were his strong arms. Earlier she had held him the same way, but only after she thought it was too late. Eventually she heard his cooing, his quiet confident voice, telling her he wouldn't let anything happen to her, that he'd die first. But that was the one thing she did know; everything else up in the air, swirling about on a breeze she couldn't control. And how she wished she could control it. Why did she have to fight so hard for what she wanted? Phoebe had the answer, had the answers to most of her questions, but they were never the ones she wanted to hear.

"There," the warlock said, wiping beads of sweat from his face. "Certainly doesn't look like much,"

"Appearances are not my concern," the Seer looked into the cauldron, watching the powders and colors mix and transmute into an image. The Seer brought her hands very near to the water, and the mixture, responding to her magic, became clearer, and more lifelike, resembling more a photograph floating on water. Suddenly the image turned black and white, the figure staring directly at the two them with hard eyes. "I see numbers," the Seer intoned. "All in a line, and bars," she paused. "Imprisonment. Yes," she ceased her concentration. "He will do," she turned away suddenly.

"Good," the warlock said, abandoning the cauldron as well. "and my reward," the Seer looked over her shoulder at him.

"You wish to know your future," the Seer recalled, the warlock nodded. "You will be apart of a grand dynasty, greater than the line of sources. With your help, the forces of good with quake in terror," the warlock stepped closer to the Seer, his eyes flashing.

"I need specifics," he began then gasped as an athame pierced his stomach. He dropped to his knees slowly, not only dying but feeling his energies being sucked through the wound.

"Specifically," the Seer whispered to the warlock, now eye level. "you will be apart of a grand design, but you will not be alive to see it come to fruition," she said, finally, watching the color leave his face, then removing the athame. The seer looked around before cleaning the weapon and replacing it within her robes, then teleported away.