Sirens wailed and traffic groaned across the damp streets. Homeless people wandered aimlessly, begging and muttering from alleys, venturing out onto the sidewalk. Characters of questionable motive passed like shadows, peering with eyes that made Kate feel as though they were staring through her soul.
It was too late to be out. She knew that. As soon as darkness set on the city, it was smarter to remain indoors than venture through the downtown streets. But as rain fell from the San Francisco sky and a breeze came in from the Bay it was the only place that didn't make her absolutely crazy. She felt like crawling out of her own skin or letting out a feral cry. Instead fleeing the scene, finding clear air, and leaving the stress behind seemed like her best shot.
Kate could see the lights ahead. The corner store was familiar and in so many other moments of near breakdown, a beacon of solace. She avoided the shady figures that loitered outside the establishment, exchanging handshakes and scowls. The door jingled when Kate strode through. She squinted under the bright lights and ignored the stale, old musk that circulated in the cheap shop. Security cameras stared down from the corners, making sure customers weren't tempted to skimp out on paying or worse. It was a bad neighborhood - at least bad enough to instill fear as she traveled through the city unarmed and for the first time in her life powerless.
She weaved through the aisles of candy and chips and pornographic magazines. She traveled past the freezer of soda and stopped when she reached the shelf that garnered her interest. The glass bottles stared at her. The liquid that was not long ago her solution to turmoil and sadness now tempted her with vengeance.
Common sense told her to turn away. She didn't need the alcohol. But her heart raced, her mouth salivated, and suddenly her head throbbed. She grinded her teeth together and tried to calm herself with well-measured breaths. And still despite the logic, despite the motivation of her rehabilitation, Kate reached out. She took the bottle from the shelf, soothed by its familiarity.
It's one drink. You're not going to lose control after one drink.
She tightened her grip on the rum.
You can handle it. Just one drink to calm your nerves. You deserve it.
Kate glanced around, half expecting to find Sam or Joey or another family member there to discourage her or shame her. But no one was there. It was just her, alone with a bottle of liquor. It was infuriating to think that she longed for a drink so desperately. It was more infuriating that like a child she'd been banned from making her own decisions. Forced to feel guilt for having a beer while the rest of the family could partake in celebration or mourning with a simple drink whenever they wished. She glared down at the bottle.
What's one drink going to do? Nothing bad can happen.
She swallowed hard. With a breath of confidence and a tight grip on her venom, Kate turned for the cash register.
…6 Hours Earlier…
Melinda Halliwell stared at the cream colored crocheted blanket, running her fingers through the knots of yarn and small holes. She was eight days into her recovery from the stab wound that landed her in the hospital. Her childhood-adolescent room in the manor where she'd been staying was full of get well cards and flowers from her students, colleagues, family, and friends. The mint green walls of her upbringing, jewelry box, posters, photos, trinkets and books reminded her of a time that seemed far away. A time of naivety and innocence. A time that she would never get back – especially now.
"How's the physical therapy going?" Kate asked her cousin. She sat on the end of her bed, legs crossed and hazel eyes gentle. After going to an AA meeting at a local church she headed to the manor, eager to see Melinda.
"It's okay," she answered. The hours of physical therapy were actually rather grueling. Each step brought shooting pain to her wounded back, stinging the nerves and tendons that had been damaged. "How does it feel to be back home?"
"Good, really good," Kate replied. She tried to stay upbeat. She could see how depressed and forlorn Melinda was. On her way upstairs to her cousin's room Piper warned her that for the last week Melinda had been rather inconsolable. "Sam's being a little overbearing, but I guess I can't blame her…"
Melinda hardly seemed to be listening. Kate wasn't offended by her cousin's lack of interest; after all it was all painful small talk. Instead she sympathized. While Melinda's situation certainly wasn't comparable to her month in rehab, there were still painful similarities. She could see how trapped her cousin was. She was heartbroken, wounded, and fragile. Deep down she was probably resentful and bitter as well. After all, the family certainly wasn't any help when it came to Jack. In fact, if anything they were glad for him to be gone. Melinda was left to mourn alone.
"You doing okay?" Kate asked gently. She reached out, placing a hand on Melinda's knee.
She nodded. "I'm fine."
"You don't have to lie to me," Kate replied. "I know I can't really understand but in some ways I do. I mean having everyone walk on eggshells around you when all you want to do is scream. You probably feel like you're imprisoned in here and all you can do is sit around and blame yourself. And it seems like everyone who is trying to help and understand just really wants to make you forget so that they can forget too."
Melinda looked up from the bed, in slight awe of Kate's insight. She appreciated the honesty and freshness of the statement. She didn't apologize or tell her how awful it was or regret how badly things had turned out with Jack like everyone else did. And while their hardships were worlds apart, something about the feelings and bitterness were the same.
"I had no control," Melinda murmured. She shook her head. "Over any of this. It just escalated so quickly. Suddenly everything was wrong. But all the while I still felt the same. I still loved Jack."
"You don't hold him responsible?" Kate asked.
"No. Only responsible for ending things," she replied. "He made the decision for both of us that it was best. And that's what I hate most – I had no say. Even if Jack decided to stay the family would have pressured me to leave him. And even if they didn't, even if they came to accept it, I'll never know because Jack didn't fight for me."
"I'm sure he wanted to," Kate told her cousin.
Melinda chewed on her lower lip as she struggled to find the words that she long suppressed. They'd built up ever since the she arrived at the manor from the hospital. They bullied her as the four walls of her childhood bedroom stared her down. "I just feel like everyone treats me like a child. As if I'm a weak, scared little girl who needs to be protected and needs decisions made for them. But I don't. I'm tired of it. I can live my life for myself. It doesn't matter how many times I screw up or how many tries it takes me to find the right way – I just want the freedom to make my own choices.
Because to be begin with, for us, there are so few! I didn't get to choose to be a witch. I didn't choose to date a demon. I didn't choose this family or these powers. Just like you didn't choose for your parents to die or to end up in rehab. Everything is thrust upon us and the only light is the idea that we can exercise a little control. And all I've felt like in the last week is that all that control is gone."
Kate listened intently to Melinda's words, eyes flickering with each ripple of her cousin's genuine emotion. It wasn't often that she spoke with such conviction. Since Kate could remember Melinda was always the quiet, quick to please, kind, calm, and unadventurous Halliwell daughter. Between her and Sam and Phoebe's daughters, Melinda was a gentle, silent spirit with only tame intentions. But ever since Jack's arrival (and now his departure) something inside her seemed broken. It was as if she'd been ripped from her once agreeable position in the background and plunged into the fire.
"I can't imagine it's been very easy," Kate said. She cleared her throat. "I know you don't want advice. You don't want someone telling you to move on and get over Jack. You don't need to be told what to think. But if there's one thing I learned in the last month, it's that you do have control. Even when you don't think you do. You can get your life back. It's still yours to control."
"But I can't get him back," Melinda replied gently.
Kate chewed on her lower lip. "There's nothing I can say to remedy that," she agreed. "But you have a choice. You can sit here in this room, trapped by your own self-pity and resentment, or you can move forward and find a way to build from all this."
The pep talk wasn't much different from those Melinda had heard from others. But Kate's words were denser, heavier, and echoed with more bluntness. And something about all that her cousin had been through in the last three weeks brought Melinda a new level of respect for her. She managed a weak smile. "Thank you," she said.
"Of course," Kate smirked back. "I know I've missed a lot but I'm here now. And though we weren't the closest, maybe we can help each other."
"I'd like that," Melinda replied, swallowing down a small pit of emotion. "You've changed, you know? You're like the old Kate but wiser or something."
"I don't know if I've reached wise status yet but I'd like to think I've changed for the better," she chuckled. Kate's hazel eyes lightened as if speckled with gold. "I know it doesn't seem like it now but when you get through this, the same thing will happen to you. You'll change."
"What if I don't want to change?" Melinda asked.
Kate tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach. It was the same question that bullied her while she struggled through rehab and temptation and depression. It was one she still couldn't answer. But for Melinda and especially for herself, she'd fake it. "You'll be okay, Mel," she told her. "I promise."
Gage Carlisle Jenkins was the embodiment of all that his mother once thought impossible. Nearly thirty years ago when Billie Jenkins betrayed the Charmed Ones by joining her crazed sister Christy, she was certain her fate was bound to be one of only terror. And when it all came crashing down, Billie was hopeless, depressed, and alone.
But that wasn't the end of her tale.
She was pulled from the rubble of her own disaster by none other than the women she fought to bring down. The Halliwell sisters didn't give up on her. And slowly, carefully, she healed again. Helping her in the process was none other than Brandon. The mortal swooped her off her feet, accepted her for every flaw, held her through every moment of mourning, and made her for the first time since finding her sister, hope for something great again. In many ways he reminded her of her father, a man she once admired but had also been brought to ashes by her calling.
It wasn't long before Billie was pregnant. Though Gage was born out of wedlock, he was brought into a home of intense love and loyalty. His father worked hard to make ends meet while Billie fumbled her way through not only raising a son but a witch. Carson was born two years later but from an early age, Gage sensed that it wasn't his younger brother who concerned Billie as greatly – it was him.
Being a firestarter, born with the same forceful power as Christy Jenkins, brought a strange sense of doom over him even as a young boy. While Billie loved Gage with her entire heart, he also knew she feared him. She watched him like a ticking time bomb, desperate to make sure he didn't fall prey to the same tendencies as his ruthless, flawed aunt. Through childhood it was an almost weekly reminder of the differences between good and evil, using one's powers for the right reasons, and later the foreboding tale of Christy Jenkins' fall.
Despite the history behind his Wiccan lineage, Gage's upbringing was rather uneventful. He was never one for school like his brother Carson and did his best to scrape by unnoticed. He played football, mastered his powers in secret, and later found a job working in a body shop out of high school. It was a rather unexciting, uneventful life to lead for a witch.
Though he confided it in very few people, he too lived with the same fear as his mother. In many ways it explained the quiet, careful tendencies of the now twenty-six year old. With every vanquish and demonic spar, he worried the day would come when the rush of power and adrenaline would overtake him.
It's why Lila Halliwell seemed to exist as his perfect match. She was a force of positive energy and passion, always reminding him of his goodness, pushing him to succeed, and to enjoy his calling. She was fire and he was ice, making their union one of balance and harmony. Asking her out had been one of the more daring things he'd done in his life and since having her by his side, a new persona of confidence and strength soon took the place of his hesitant ways. She was his light and he was her rock. Together it seemed they could master any hardship.
"We're getting married!" Lila skipped happily ahead of him. They walked through the busy San Francisco streets, wind flapping their jackets and hair. Gage grinned at her enthusiasm, watching as she waved the paper in her hand. She stopped and laughed as she waited for him to catch up with her. "It's really going to happen, can you believe it?"
"Yes I can," Gage smirked. She easily fit herself into his arms and he pecked her lips. "Do you think your family is going to be okay with it? A month isn't very long to plan a wedding."
"They'll deal with it," Lila replied as the two continued on their stroll. They held hands on their path, easily making their way out of the city and into the quieter neighborhood areas. "Besides, you can't blame us for jumping on it. How many times does a spot open up like that?"
"You know I was wondering the same thing. You wouldn't have anything to do with that, would you?" Gage asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Gage, I'm appalled you would even think that of me!" she scolded with a laugh. "I am a Charmed One now and very sensitive about the implications of personal gain."
He tried to keep from chuckling at her vigor. "You're right, I was out of line," he winked.
"Yes, you were," Lila smiled. She glanced over her shoulder before pushing him into a small patch of shrubbery on the sidewalk. She pressed her lips to his and Gage eagerly wrapped his arms around her small waist. The excitement of their upcoming nuptials certainly made their relationship more romantic and steamy as of late. When they pulled away from their kiss, she grinned. "I think securing a wedding date calls for some celebration…"
"And what would you have in mind?" Gage asked.
Lila looped her arms around his broad neck and scanned their surroundings one last time. Out of sight from any mortal bystanders, she latched her lips onto his and with careful precision, captured them in a pink glow and transported them far from the city.
The couple was still clasped in their embrace when they landed in her living room. The hue abruptly fell down around them and almost instantly the space filled with a terrified gasp. Lila opened her eyes and snapped her head in time to find her older sister frantically flicking her hands, freezing the room in desperation.
"Oh my God," Lila's mouth dropped in surprise.
Laura's cheeks were bright red with embarrassment as she maneuvered on top of a now frozen James Clement. Her brown hair was tousled, her hazel eyes were wide, and her chest was bare as she desperately grabbed a throw pillow to hold to her front.
"Look away!" Lila said, smacking her hands over Gage's eyes. He blindly turned his back to the sisters who quickly took to shrieking.
"What the hell are you doing?" Laura shouted.
"I could ask you the same thing!" Lila yelled back. Her large, brown eyes were both wide in outrage and amusement.
"You can't just teleport in like that!" Laura stammered. Horror painted her face as heaving breaths overtook her. Anxiety flushed through her cheeks and she was soon doing her best to avoid a panic attack.
"You can't just shack up on the couch," Lila scolded.
"What about that time you two did it in the kitchen," Laura argued.
"That was one time!" Gage put in, his back still to the girls.
"How do you even know about that? Lucy just can't keep her mouth shut," Lila growled.
"Okay, how about we figure out a way to take care of this?" Gage suggested.
"I have an idea – you two can use the door like normal people!" Laura yelled. She was panting incessantly now, fanning herself with one hand while she covered herself with the other.
"Okay, okay, just breathe," Lila sighed. "We'll get out of your hair. And seriously, find a shirt…"
Laura watched as her sister and Gage exited in a fast pink flash and sighed. She frantically looked back down at James who was still frozen and unknowing. Ever since their reunion a week ago, there had been many after work trysts. They'd missed each other in their time apart and were already making up for the longing separation instilled. If one thing was true it was that distance certainly made the heart grow fonder.
And still the pressure loomed of revealing herself and her powers. Soon they'd be exactly where they started, at the same crossroads that tore them apart. Laura knew the time was coming for her to make a choice. A choice between James and keeping her secret. It was almost as sacred and fearsome as marriage itself.
Collecting herself as quickly as she could, Laura tossed the pillow aside and did her best to reposition herself on top of him in the same way they were before Lila and Gage interrupted. She pulled a shaky breath and then flicked her hands, sending him back into motion. He tried to proceed with the kiss he'd been about to make but missed Laura's cheek by a few inches. His brow furrowed. "What the hell?" he muttered.
"Did you hear that?" Laura interrupted, pulling up from him. He was clearly disoriented and Laura hadn't made it the smoothest transition for him but she hoped the chaos of Lila and Gage's arrival would erase any unease.
"Hear what?" James asked.
"We're home!" Lila announced loudly. Laura rolled her eyes at Lila's blatant announcement. "Anyone here?"
Laura grabbed her bra and shirt while James frantically buttoned up his own. Lila entered, leading Gage who kept hands over his eyes in order to avoid another mishap. "James, Laura, I didn't expect to find you two here," Lila said with a dramatic flair.
"You can uncover your eyes Gage," Laura told him.
"Lila, it's good to see you again," James smiled, eager for any interaction with the Halliwells.
"Always a pleasure to see you too," Lila replied. "You remember my fiancée Gage?"
"Yeah, of course," he said, happily shaking Gage's hand. "Congratulations by the way. Have you two set a date?"
"We just did actually," Gage nodded.
"April 6th," Lila grinned.
"That's a month away," Laura said in shock.
"I know it's great isn't it?"
Interrupting the uncomfortable foursome was the harsh ring of James' beeper. Laura nearly sighed in relief as he checked the device. "I guess I should get going," he said. "It was nice to see you both again."
"You're always welcome here," Lila grinned.
"I'll see you later," James said, kissing Laura, grabbing his jacket, and quickly whisking out. When the front door shut, Laura gave a sigh in relief and flopped down on the couch. No sooner than his departure, however, was the sneaky arrival of another.
"Thank God, I thought he wasn't going to leave," Chris groaned, popping up from behind one of the couches. Lila shrieked in surprise and Gage instantly chuckled. Laura only became more outraged.
"How long have you been back there?" she shouted.
"Since you and Lila started screaming at each other. Nice pillow by the way…"
"No!" Laura shrieked. She paced the floor, shaking her head in outrage. "This has to stop! We are setting boundaries! James is a mortal and that means that people can't magically appear whenever they please…"
"Or you could just tell him already," Lila sighed, flopping down into an armchair.
"It's not that easy, Lila," she growled. "We're not like you and Gage who can just teleport around the city and cast spells together…."
"Listen, it's not my fault you're scared of commitment and can't tell him."
"You have no idea what you're talking about…"
"Okay! I have about fifteen minutes before I need to go back to work. Can we all just agree to use the front door?" Chris asked in frustration. The girls went silent. "Good. Now, where the hell is Lucy?"
"She's at work," Laura replied.
"At work?" Chris repeated.
"She started her internship today," Lila reminded him. "Don't worry about it, we'll get her later."
"Is she up to speed on the plan?"
"We all are because we've gone over it about a hundred times."
"You can never go over it too many times," Chris said. "Especially when this is technically your first vanquish without me or Wyatt and…"
"We can do it, Chris," Laura assured. "I already talked to aunt Piper and she gave me the rundown on when her and mom tracked down Belthazor."
"Right but the task is different and…"
"We know; we need his flesh in order to create the vanquishing potion. When the time presents itself, Laura freezes, Lucy slices, and we all teleport out and get cooking," Lila sighed.
Chris gave a slow nod, satisfied but still skeptical. After sleepless nights of tracking down their target, the girls were more ready than ever to execute their mission. And yet even with their confidence, Chris worried they still weren't ready. "If you run into more than one member of the Brotherhood, I want you to get out or if at any point you feel unsure," he said.
"We will," Laura told him.
"I'm surprised you don't want in on this one, Chris," Gage put in. He'd been quite while the Halliwells planned their attack – as was his habit when it concerned the family.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"Well, tracking down the demon that attacked Melinda. I just thought you'd be eager to take a shot at the guy," Gage replied.
"That's exactly the reason he should stay out of it," Laura muttered. Chris met her eyes and she granted him a look of sympathy. In the last few days she'd done her best to be there for Chris and Wyatt. She was the only other member of the family to know of Piper's cancer and was doing everything possible to make the news easier. And yet no matter how often she attempted to comfort them, the pain was always there, deep and heartbreaking behind their eyes. "You doing okay?"
Chris gave a grim nod. "Yeah," he said. "Everything go well this morning?"
"Yeah, I can update you later if you want," she told him.
"How's the girlfriend Chris?" Lila cut in, oblivious to the gravity between her sister and cousin. Chris gritted his tooth and gave a long sigh.
"Lila," Laura scolded her sister.
"I'm taking care of it," Chris said.
"Well, good luck," Lila smirked.
Chris nodded. "The same to you," he said before quickly orbing out.
"He loves making epic exits, doesn't he?" Lila mused.
Laura rolled her eyes. "Come on; let's go get the problem child and do this thing."
Sam glanced at her phone for what seemed like the hundredth time. She was anxious for a call, desperate to be back at her sister's side and insure everything was going smoothly. Deep down she knew she was being ridiculous. Kate was a grown woman who didn't need to be watched and nurtured. The setback of the last few months had certainly been frightening but it didn't change the fact that Kate still deserved to be treated like an adult. Her sister was fiercely independent and stifling her was only likely to make her act out.
So instead Sam took to distraction. It was her most reliable strategy in crisis. Following Paige's death she's loaded herself up with work and taking care of Joey. And with Kate in rehab she quickly sank into tracking down their mother's killer and her relationship with Nick. Now as she was frazzled once more, she climbed the cement steps to her boyfriend's apartment, desperate for the same comfort.
She pounded on the heavy door, ignoring the rather shabby accommodations of Nick's neighborhood. He was a bachelor after all and to pay the rent he often filled in on construction jobs. The rest of his time was spent Underground or lurking in the shadows, tracking, fighting, and feeding what was more instinctual. In fact, it was strange to think that in their short time together, Sam still felt as though she knew very little about the man she often shared a bed with.
The door swiftly swung open and she faltered slightly at the sight of a man she didn't recognize. He stood tall and rather grizzly, quickly setting an unfriendly stare on her face. "I'm looking for Nick," she managed.
He said nothing and remained stuck in her path, not moving until a voice from inside drifted toward them. "Let her in Morax!"
Sam felt slight ease at Nick's voice but still shuddered as Morax watched her for a moment longer, appearing intimidating and foreboding in his place. He was bald with a tangle of blonde scruff along his angry jaw line. He wore all black and heavy combat boots. With a displeased look he stepped aside and allowed Sam to enter.
Nick was quick to greet her with a kiss but her enthusiasm to see him was replaced by fear and she only managed a peck on his mouth. Morax slammed the door, making Sam jump. "Sam this is my roommate Morax," Nick introduced them. The two stood across from each other and he only stared her down. "Morax this is Sam, the one I've told you about."
"Hi," Sam stammered. Morax offered nothing and swiftly yanked his trench coat from the hook near the door. Then after a prolonged glare set on Nick's face he shimmered out.
"Sorry about that," Nick sighed. He moved for the small kitchen quarters. "You hungry?"
Sam shook her head. "No," she mumbled. She lingered in her place as he rustled through the sink and began clearing the counters of dirty dishes. "Is he a demon?"
"Yeah; a manticore," Nick nodded. "We've known each other since we were teenagers. Sorry he was a little intense. He's very passionate about hating witches."
"Right, I didn't get that vibe at all," Sam said sarcastically, taking a seat at the counter. "You didn't tell me about him."
"I didn't think you'd like him," Nick replied.
"That doesn't matter. You live with the guy. These are things I should just know about you," Sam told him. "Besides, he seems to be the one who doesn't like me."
"Well, you are a Halliwell," he muttered.
"Nick…"
"I'm just kidding!" he cut her off, quickly moving toward her. He smiled and tenderly grabbed her small face into his hands. His brown eyes were pure and honest as they dove into hers. "I'm sorry. Listen, you don't have to worry about him. He knows to never hurt you…"
Sam gave a small frown. "And the rest of my family? Other witches?"
"I can't control everything he does," Nick replied.
"That doesn't make me feel any better," Sam said. She pulled away from him and left the kitchen. Nick frowned as she entered the living room and stared out the window. Sam knew what she was getting into when she began dating Nick Rizzo. She didn't have the ignorant bliss her cousin had with Jack. She'd made a conscious, whole hearted choice, and in some ways it was more frightening than not knowing. They were of different worlds and philosophies – but she wanted to believe it would work. She had to believe it would work.
"We knew this wouldn't be easy," Nick told her gently. He stood behind her and carefully wrapped his arms around her waist. He rested his chin on her shoulder. She nearly melted under his touch, warming at his strong form and familiar scent. "I care about you and I've never been this happy. That's why I'm not going to give up."
"You make me my happiest too," Sam confessed. She turned in his arms and faced his caring face. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "But I lay awake at night thinking of everything that's wrong…"
"But that's your problem, Sam," Nick said. "That's always your problem. You spend so much time worrying about everyone else and what could happen and what you'll have to do that you don't get to smile at everything that's right. At everything that makes you happy. I can't promise that we're going to work. I can't promise that I won't find myself against the lines of good and you won't fight against my people. But I can promise I'll always try to make you happy and I'll do anything to keep you safe. I think we can make this work but you can't live in constant fear or it's not worth any of the good we have."
Sam's mouth lifted in a slow smile. She swallowed hard. "You always know how to make me feel better," she told him. She ran a finger down his strong chest. "But I'm not going to be able to relax until I know more about you, Nick. You didn't even tell me you were living with another manticore. Honestly, sometimes I feel like I don't know you at all."
"You know me," Nick said. "Besides, look at your cousin – she thought she knew everything about Jack."
"How is that supposed to make me feel better?" Sam asked. "In fact, the entire situation with her and Jack is exactly what has put me on edge."
"I'm just saying that you know all you need to know. I'm a demon and I've owned up to that. It means there are a lot of things you don't need to hear or witness," Nick told her.
"Like what?"
Nick sighed and released his hold around her waist. "Are you trying to start a fight?"
"I'm not trying to start a fight, Nick," Sam glared, growing more frustrated. "I just want to know where you stand."
"You know where I stand," Nick replied quickly.
"Not when a terrifying demon answers your door. He looked like he wanted to kill me!"
"That's not my fault!" he exclaimed.
"I want to know things, Nick. Why won't you tell me?" she continued more passionately. She didn't know where it was coming from. But suddenly all the anxiety and uncertainty was pressing her from inside and she was prepared to burst.
"Know what?" he shouted.
"How many times do you consult with your coven? How many of them know about us? How many good creatures do you kill? How many witches?" Sam rattled off.
Nick shook his head. "We're not having this conversation…"
"Why won't you meet my family?" she asked him.
"What?"
"Why won't you meet them? I've invited you several times. And all you say is that it's not a good idea…"
"It's not!"
"But you won't even try it! They know about us and they wouldn't hurt you because they know you're important to me!"
Nick was pacing now, breathing heavily with fury. "You want to know why?" he barked.
"Yes!"
"Because your mother and aunts killed my mother!" Nick shouted. Sam's face fell in horror. He shook his head and tightened his jaw. "You happy now? Is that what you wanted to hear?"
"Nick, I …"
"You wanted to know, so I'll tell you," he glared. "My mother was a monster but she was still my mother. Your mother and aunts did what they thought was right and they got me to my father and I supposed I appreciate that. He raised me with all the values that you were raised with. But do you know who killed him? In the end, do you know who killed the last of my kin?"
"Who?" Sam asked softly.
"A witch. A witch who was tracking a manticore and scryed and landed on my house. And when she got there, when she prepared to kill me, my father died protecting me. He died right in front of me and you know what I did? I killed that witch. And I've killed many others after her."
"Nick, I'm sorry," she whispered gently. Sam stepped for him, tears behind her brown eyes, but Nick took a step back. He swallowed hard as he met her face.
"I don't believe in the same things you do, Sam. I never will. Too much has happened for it to be that simple. I spent time with my mother's old coven and I learned things about myself and my kind that I'd never understood before. But most of all I learned I'm not just human and I'm not just a manticore and I will never be able to choose one side of myself," he said. "I have my own code and I terminate who I see fit, when I see it fit. Good witches are just as capable of hurting people as others. But it hasn't stopped me from caring about you."
Sam sniffled and shook her head. "I'm sorry," she managed weakly.
"It's not your fault," he said hoarsely. "I'm sorry if this ruins things between us."
"It doesn't ruin things, Nick," Sam assured, wiping her eyes. "I know it's messed up but I'm just glad I know now. You don't understand how badly I want to know you…how badly I want to know every part of you."
She closed the space between them and ran a few fingers down his dark face. "Thank you," he whispered.
Sam replied with a gentle kiss. And while fear and disquiet stormed through her chest, she still felt warm in his arms. But the knowledge brought a deeper threat. She only hoped they could continue to hold on.
He was in the attic again, among the dust and boxes. Only the small flame from his lighter brought illumination among the darkness, allowing him to stumble toward the familiar olive green chest. Joey quickly fell to his knees once he was in front of his and frantically began rifling through the items. Henry Sr.'s belongings were still neatly folded and piled into the chest. But this time they failed to hold his interest. This time he was determined to find the very thing that made his heart race and adrenaline warm his veins.
They greeted him at the bottom of the trunk. He reached out but hesitated just before picking them up. He remembered the hurt and burning that he was previously greeted with. But then propelled but more than just curiosity but determination he pulled a stone from the chest. It burned his hand, ached through his bones and made him grit his teeth.
Joey dropped the lighter but continued clinging to the stone in his right palm. In fact, it seemed he could no longer let go. The pain was excruciating but he needed it. He felt no desire to let go. A strong force began working through his limbs and in a powerful, uncontrollable jerk he was pushed to the floorboards of the attic. He stared up at the ceiling, withstanding the pain as he continued to hold onto the stone.
He could feel something happening. It tingled in his toes and up his shins. The lightness radiated in his knees and groin and hips. His stomach tumbled in almost nauseous circles and his chest contracted as if hugged by too much pressure. And then finally his head became light as if he'd experienced a high much greater than those granted by drugs or alcohol. The pain was gone.
Joey carefully sat up, dazed and pleased and nearly unconscious. He kept his fist tight around the stone but suddenly his left hand was prickled by a foreign sensation. He glanced down and slowly brought the palm up. His entire hand was covered in white, electric, moving light. It morphed and grew on his hand until suddenly rolling itself into a tight sphere. He recognized it as an energy ball but of a different white hue. Joey's eyes widened. He had powers. He could feel it in every inch and bone. But he didn't just feel gifted – he felt unstoppable.
With lightness and agility Joey got to his feet. He still held the energy ball and stone. And as he caught a glance of himself in the dusted mirror in the corner, he saw his eyes glow a disturbing, sapphire blue. In shock he dropped the stone to the floor.
Joey bolted up from the couch, panting for breath as he glanced around the apartment. He was drenched in sweat, heart racing from the realistic dream. He stared down at his hands, relieved to find neither of them glowing with orbs. And yet as he moved the fingers in his right hand he was surprised to find a slight twinge.
He jumped when a loud knock rattled the front door. He wondered how long the visitor had been knocking as he scrambled up from the couch. "Coming!" he shouted. Ever since she was released from the hospital Melinda had been staying at the manor being nursed back to health, leaving Joey to an empty apartment. With his most recent dream about the stones – his third that week – he was beginning to think perhaps the loneliness was beginning to get to him.
Joey's face dropped when he opened the front door. "Jack," he said. His brow dipped in simultaneous confusion and disapproval. "What are you doing here?"
"You said I could pick up some of my stuff," Jack reminded him.
"Right," Joey nodded hesitantly. "Well, I wasn't expecting you now. I was going to make sure someone else was here when you came in case…"
"What? I tried to kill you?" Jack asked. He was rougher than Joey remembered. He was tired and unkempt looking. He had a light beard and his hair was a mess.
"Let's just get this over with," Joey sighed, opening the door wider. Jack shuffled in, empty box in hand. Together the two men headed for Melinda's unoccupied room. Jack paused for a moment at the doorway and attempted to hide the pain from his otherwise empty face. "Don't steal anything."
"I'm not a criminal," Jack said, entering the room. Melinda always kept the space tidy and since her absence it felt like a morgue or hotel room.
"That would be an improvement for you," Joey glared. From the beginning he'd hated Jack Mason. Now that there was confirmation of the man being evil and demonic, his suspicions were finally justified. But in some strange way, the revelation had in fact made Joey less wary of Jack. He watched as the man grabbed a few books from Melinda's desk. He pulled open her drawers and withdrew some t-shirts and a pair of boxers. Joey tried to remain unaffected by Jack's pitiful nature.
"How is she?" Jack asked.
"She's healing," Joey replied coldly. Jack gave a grim nod. He paused at a photograph of the two of them framed on Melinda's dresser.
"I miss her," he mumbled.
Joey sighed. "You get everything you need?" he asked.
"Yeah," Jack nodded. He closed up the box and slowly exited the room. Joey closed the door behind him. He watched as Jack nearly reached the front door and with a grimace and a curse under his breath, he cleared his throat.
"Hey Jack," he said. "You want a beer?"
Jack's strides halted and he turned. "Are you trying to poison me?"
"No," Joey replied. "Though that wouldn't be a bad idea."
"It's probably best if I don't stay here very long," Jack decided gently. "But I appreciate it."
"Yeah," Joey nodded. He gave an awkward sigh. "I heard you're still working at the Bay Mirror with Sam. We were all surprised. I thought that was just a cover."
"It's a job," Jack replied. "There's not much use for me now that I'm not leading the Brotherhood."
"You got fired?" Joey asked.
"Well, in the Underworld they just kill you," he said. "But I suppose I got lucky. Of course, I don't feel very lucky."
"You should feel lucky Wyatt and Chris and every other Halliwell hasn't killed you," Joey told him.
"Perhaps someone should. It feels like some sort of absurd purgatory here," Jack chuckled. He adjusted the box under his arm. "It was good knowing you Joey."
He watched as Jack turned his back and again found the urge to call out. "She's sad, Jack," Joey confessed. Jack remained motionless at the door. "She's the saddest I've ever seen her. She misses you. No one in the family will touch you because they know it would kill her. She's hurting too. I don't like you all that much, and I know you're not supposed to be good for her, but I thought you should know."
Jack pulled in a long breath. He glanced over his shoulder and managed a sad smirk. "Thank you."
"Yeah," he nodded. The door slammed with Jack's exit and Joey shook his head and groaned. "What the hell is wrong with me?"
"What are you thinking?"
Piper Halliwell watched as her younger sister remained stationary in her spot on the sofa, legs curled beneath her, stare set on the floor, and a few nails trapped between her teeth. Phoebe had just finished recounting all that had taken place with Cole at the bookstore that afternoon but seemed anything but relieved about getting the news off her chest. She shook her head.
"I just can't understand what he could want. He's not trying to hurt us. He's just trying to help us," Phoebe mused distantly.
"Yes and we've thought that many times before," Piper said. "Cole's only attempting to stay close and I for one refuse to trust any motive he gives."
"But why now? He's had plenty of time to come forward and hurt us," Phoebe replied, her brown eyes flickering with hope.
"Your daughters are the Charmed Ones now for starters," Piper reminded her coldly. "And I also don't find it a coincidence that his demon spawn of a son failed in his part to take down the family. I'm sure Cole is only here to clean up his mess."
"I wouldn't necessarily call Jack Mason evil…"
"Phoebe…" Piper nearly growled.
"What? It's true," Phoebe replied. She watched as her sister rose from her seat and started to pace. Her footsteps echoed throughout the rather quiet manor. "They fell in love, Piper. I don't think either of them intended to do it for the wrong reasons. Melinda is a big girl and…"
"Phoebe, the sooner this business with Jack Turner or Mason or whoever the hell he is, is over the better," she snapped.
Phoebe's brow furrowed in slight contempt. "It's not that easy," she said lowly.
"I can see that," Piper told her.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"That after everything Cole has put us through you still let him linger! There's still a part of you that won't give him up," Piper said.
"Piper, you don't know what the hell you're talking about," Phoebe glared. Her jaw hitched in outrage and she did her best to stay in control. It wasn't often that the two of them fought anymore but her older sister now danced the line of a rather sensitive subject.
"I can't have this right now, Phoebe," Piper continued sternly. "And if you wanted to do what's best for your daughters then…"
"Do not bring my girls into this!" she yelled.
"But you have already! You did 11 years ago!" Piper nearly shouted back. Her heart was racing and she instantly regretted what she'd said. She swallowed down hard.
Phoebe's face fell. "Are you serious?"
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that," Piper apologized softly.
"You're damn right," Phoebe said, gathering her purse and jacket. Her cheeks were hot with rage and embarrassment. The truth of her divorce, the one that brought her shame and insomnia and humiliation was one she had only shared with her sisters. Sure the stress of her work as an author and Coop's constant absences as a father were certainly at the core of their issues fifteen years ago. But the final straw – the one that paralyzed them from repairing their relationship – was that deep down Coop always knew his wife was still in love with Cole Turner.
"Phoebe, don't please," Piper sighed, running a hand down her face.
"I know I messed up my marriage, but I don't need you to throw it in my face," she glared. She angrily turned on her heel in the foyer to face her sister. "I don't even know who you are anymore. You don't talk to me and ever since this thing with Melinda you're hell bent on riding everyone's ass! She fell in love with the wrong guy, it's happened to all of us."
"But it's not any guy, Phoebe," Piper replied. "I thought you could at least understand that. It was agony to watch you get your heartbroken, to see you become the Queen of the Underworld, to be betrayed…I won't have that happen to my daughter. Not now."
"What do you mean not now? I know it's hard to accept but we aren't the Charmed Ones anymore, okay? You just have to let it go already!" Phoebe shook her head.
"It's not about that!" Piper shouted.
"Then what is it?" Phoebe yelled. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"I have cancer!" Piper barked back. She anxiously caught her breath following the revelation. Phoebe's mouth instantly dropped and her eyes widened. And behind them, leaning on the banister for support was an equally horrified party.
"Mom?" Melinda breathed meekly.
Piper closed her eyes in regret, cursing her impulsiveness. She gave a long exhale before turning to face her daughter. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to find out like that."
"Piper, how long have you known?" Phoebe asked.
"A few weeks," she answered. She did her best to remain unemotional as she spoke, desperate to stay strong in front of her sister and daughter. "That's why I wanted you here today. I wanted to tell you before tonight."
Melinda tried to remain composed. "Why didn't you tell us sooner?"
"Because I didn't want to worry anyone and with how chaotic things have been lately it just didn't really seem like the time," Piper replied.
"Who else knows? Does Leo know?" Phoebe asked.
"Of course he knows," she confirmed. "Laura knows too. She caught me coming out of the oncology ward at the hospital. And the boys found out last week."
"What kind is it? What stage? What's your treatment plan?" Phoebe rambled with questions just to avoid the urge to crumble. The shock was more prevalent than fear for the time being. A tight pit overtook her stomach.
"Stage four lymphoma. I already met with my doctor and we've agreed to proceed with surgery followed by chemotherapy to remove some of the affected areas," Piper explained.
"Affected areas?" Phoebe repeated.
"My lungs and bone marrow," she said. "It's not as bad as it sounds, I promise…"
Biting down the harsh tremor of her lower lip, Phoebe quickly crossed the space between them in the foyer and threw her arms around Piper. She squeezed her tightly, desperately, fighting back the sting of tears that glossed her brown eyes. "Oh Piper," she managed in a hoarse whisper.
Piper hugged her back, pulling in deep breaths to keep her emotions in check. While she hated to share the terrible news with her younger sister, her thoughts were tangled with the other she had not meant to tell. As she kept Phoebe in a tight hold, Piper's gaze landed on Melinda who watched blankly from the stairs.
She'd intended to tell Melinda, especially since both Wyatt and Chris were aware of her illness, but with her recovery still in a fragile state and her depression following Jack's betrayal, she decided it was best to protect her daughter a little longer. Now as the two women locked gazes, struck by the grave reality confronting them both, Piper struggled to ignore the harsh pain in her heart. Cancer was a devastating adversary but bringing such desolation to her daughter's face felt worse than any diagnosis or treatment.
Phoebe was sniffling into her sister's shoulder when Melinda delicately turned on her heel, clinging to the banister as a makeshift support for her back to ascend upstairs. "Melinda," Piper called her. She paid her mother no mind and continued up the steps, ignoring the ache and struggle that came with each movement.
Phoebe pulled away from Piper in time to watch her niece hobble up the last stair. "I should talk to her," Piper whispered. Phoebe pulled her back with an arm.
"She needs a little time," she advised. A frown pulled down her face. "And so do you."
"I don't have any time, Pheebs. Don't you understand that?" Piper replied. "Believe it or not sometimes my neurotic tendencies are for good reason."
"You're going to have time, Piper, you understand me?" she told her seriously. "You're going to have plenty of time."
Christopher Perry Halliwell listened to the silence. The club was motionless and cold. A single glass of tequila sat in front of him. It was his second. He glanced at his watch. His eyes stung with hot tears.
Nothing was right anymore. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time anything seemed right. Paige was dead. His mother had cancer. His sister was wounded. And now he needed to kill his girlfriend. Many nights he wondered what allowed such travesty. What made him the unfortunate party? He wasn't one for pity but he was beginning to feel the stretch. For the first time he was beginning to think that perhaps he didn't have the strength.
It was a test – the cruelest of any test. He was becoming a martyr, a tragic hero, a lost soul before his own eyes. Chris could see himself falling and he knew he couldn't stop it. For the last two months it'd been a long trudge, a series of days, of hours, of moments to get through. He'd convinced himself that if only he could get to the next minute, everything would be okay. But it wasn't like that. With each moment it seemed that the escape and reprieve was moving farther away.
He was depressed. Chris always knew that. Perhaps he'd always been depressed. Perhaps it'd been long before Paige's death. He had anxiety and unbearable stress. There were nights of no sleep and days of no appetite. He fed himself with the promise of a new moment. With the promise that eventually he'd see beyond darkness.
But the beyond hadn't come. Instead he'd become grumpier, more restless, angry, paranoid, panicked, and hopeless. He needed a shrink. Of course, a shrink couldn't help him. Perhaps he needed drugs but he was too proud. He was too proud to over drink or self-medicate. He was too proud to admit his ailment and too proud to ask for help. He was too proud to sit in a dark room and stay in bed like he longed to every day. He was too proud to become suicidal or show his weakness. He was too proud to allow himself to be depressed even if he already was. His pride was always his greatest strength and vice.
So instead he tormented himself. Chris refused to allow himself to feel any of the emptiness or pain. He kept busy. He worked. He threw himself into everyone's problems. He tried to forget how to have feelings. He tried to be as little of himself as possible. He was just enough to be present but much farther than anyone else knew.
Chris threw back the rest of his tequila. The liquid burned down his chest. He was buzzed but not drunk. He knew if he got drunk he wouldn't be able to do what he needed to. He put the cap on the liquor after pouring one last drink. Then with one more breath of the stagnant, cold, depressed air he grabbed his phone. He dialed her numbers. And when she picked up he wanted to curse. He wished she wouldn't pick up. "Bianca, it's me. You want to meet me at the club in twenty? I think we need to talk."
She agreed. And rather than finish his drink, Chris took his glass and threw it to the floor, desperate just to hear it break.
Hello all! Thank you for reading once more! I know it's been awhile so I thought i'd provide a longer installment this time. As always, I'm pretty busy with school as well as some other journalistic opportunities that definitely keep me writing and busy. I love coming back to this story because it's something I can write for fun and relax and develop characters. Most of all it's nice to put something out there that people enjoy reading. So with that in mind I'd love to hear from you! I threw a lot in this last chapter so let me know how it went over. Thanks for sticking with me ~ Sammy