Before the overpowering assault took her away from consciousness Lucy Halliwell wished she would have ducked. Instead, she was suddenly thrown from her feet, completely weightless and terrified as she was stripped of gravity's reassurance. Her chest was weightless and she squeezed her eyes shut as she awaited the painful impact. Flames ate away at her flesh at her stomach and rather than cry out from the burning, she was forced silent by the blinding blow to her head. Her body was limp when it found the ground and on a bed of rock and ash, Lucy faced the notion that she was likely dead.

Dreams found her rather than peace. She was suddenly eleven again, knees pulled to her chest as she sat in her room of lavender and powder blue, scowling to keep the tears at bay. The young Lucy glared at the pages of yet another book, purposefully turning pages with vicious thunder. Her sisters were shouting. She could hear Lila's angry teenage steps crash down the hallway. "I don't want to spend Thanksgiving with you and this stupid family!" she screamed. "I want to be with dad! Why can't he be with us?"

"Because we're taking some time apart Lila, honey, we explained this to you," Phoebe tried as calmly as she could. Their voices were muffled behind Lucy's bedroom door.

"That's not fair!" Lila argued.

"You're being immature Lila," Laura put in dryly.

"Shut up!"

"You shut up!"

Lucy jumped as the door of her bedroom was thrown open and quickly slammed shut. Lila was in the room and red with anger. "What do you want?" Lucy asked.

"I want my jacket back, I know you stole it," Lila told her.

"I didn't steal it!" Lucy shouted.

"Give it to me so I can leave this place!"

"Lila, come out here so we can talk!" Phoebe demanded from the hallway.

Lila was rifling through Lucy's closet and the youngest Halliwell quickly took to yanking at her sister's shirt to pull her away. The two flailed and shoved before the door opened again and fifteen year old Laura joined the chaos. "Mom wants me to talk to you, Lila," she groaned.

"Well, I don't want to talk to you," Lila glared. She smacked Lucy's hand away from her hair and jerked away.

"Why are you being so dramatic about this? People get divorced."

"Not mom and dad. They're supposed to have true love," Lila snapped.

"True love doesn't exist," Laura sighed.

"Yes it does. Dad says…"

"I know what dad says but maybe he's wrong; he's the reason they're getting a divorce after all."

"Why do you have to talk about him like that?" Lila shouted. "It's mom's fault! She won't let him be with us! She's being unfair!"

Lucy breathed heavily as she watched her two older sisters. Their arguing was normal but it made her head pound and her chest hurt and she felt like screaming. It was always Phoebe versus Coop or Laura versus Lila – and Lucy was left to watch and listen. But this time, rather than watch quietly she sprinted for the door. Phoebe called after her as she ran through the living room but suddenly she was out of the condo and on the sidewalk, sprinting at full speed past the throngs of people. Her auburn hair flapped in the wind, blinding her every few steps, but suddenly she no longer felt like screaming. She was breathing evenly and though she didn't know where she was going, she felt safe. The first sweat broke but she kept going. She was alone. She was free.

It was the same freedom Lucy felt on the ground, feeling her life leave her body – waiting to die. She was disturbed from her dream by the voices of her sisters. The same voices that once tormented her childhood now echoed in her head. "Lucy! Lucy can you hear me!" Laura was screaming.

"We need to get her back," Lila whimpered.

Lucy tried to open her eyes. She wanted to see the damage, to assess how much blood she'd loss, and see their faces one last time. But she couldn't. She tried to speak but her mouth wouldn't open. She tried to move but she was still motionless. A male voice echoed distantly. "Go! Get her out of here! I'll take of this…"

She didn't hear anymore but suddenly she was more weightless. She was travelling among the stars and planes. And then she was dreaming again. This time she wasn't a scared eleven year old. This time there was a child. A baby. He grinned with fat cheeks and wide chocolate eyes. A few ringlets of dark hair fell across her forehead. The infant was being held, her chin resting on the shoulder of his mother, grinning at Lucy from afar. Suddenly the woman turned and Lucy could see her sister.

"You want aunt Lucy?" Lila cooed at the baby.

Lucy's eyes were wide and her mouth dropped as Lila brought the child over. She carefully took the boy into her arms while shaking her head in disbelief. "This is your baby?" she asked.

"Don't be ridiculous," Lila shook her head. "This is just training…"

At this Lila patted her stomach, showing subtle bump. Lucy's mouth dropped again and the baby sucked his fist, still grinning at her from his angle. She watched him for a moment, trying to pinpoint where she recognized the sweet face. "Then whose is he?"

Before Lila answered she took the baby back. Lucy looked down at her own stomach and a golden glow suddenly radiating from her. "Say bye-bye," Lila instructed the baby, waving his hand at Lucy. She swallowed hard and managed a weak wave back, before suddenly leaving the vision for darkness.

…2 Hours Earlier…

"Coffee?" a voice snapped her out of her daze. Lucy looked up in time to find Wilson McCleary standing above her, Styrofoam cup in hand. "Let me guess; extra cream, extra sugar."

"How'd you know that?" Lucy asked him, slowly taking the hot beverage. Wilson gave a bemused smirk.

"Just a lucky guess," he said. "How are your sketches going?"

"I think I have one down but it's mediocre at best. It's going to get torn to shreds," she replied, taking a slow sip of coffee. "You?"

"I think I've got a winner," Wilson smiled.

"Someone's conceited," she muttered.

"Confident," he replied. "I know you have the Stanford breeding on your side but Chicago is home of great American architecture …"

Lucy gave an exasperated sigh. "That is so interesting but I just remembered, I didn't ask you about it, did I?" she asked.

Wilson ignored her as he casually leaned back in his chair. They sat among the chaos of the drafting room, their own table already covered with drawings, computers, papers, and lunch. The third intern sketched frantically across from them while the pair took a moment to relax. "So you don't have a boyfriend," Wilson said.

"I didn't say that," Lucy told him.

"Just call me a psychic," he replied.

Lucy bit her tongue in order to repress a snarky comeback – one that would assert her psychic abilities over his. "I will not allow you that compliment," she glared. "But no, I don't."

"Good," Wilson smiled.

"Why good?"

"Well, I mean you and I will be seeing a lot of each other. A lot of late nights…"

Lucy gave a loud growl in outrage. "You're a pig! If you think that I'm ever going to think of sleeping with you, you are out of your mind…"

"Well, they say we're all a little out of our mind to go into this profession," Wilson winked. "But I didn't say anything about sleeping with you, red. I can understand why you'd be hopeful but this is a workplace environment and the implications of sleeping with you are just too large. I couldn't sacrifice my reputation…"

"You think you're so funny, don't you?" Lucy glared.

"Yes," he nodded.

"I can see why you're single," she told him.

"And I can see why you're single," Wilson quipped. "Now, I just have one question; does the carpet match the drapes?"

"I swear to God, I am not going to deal with your snide remarks and cocky attitude and let you go on thinking your charming because for the record that's sexual harassment!"

"Lucy!"

She cringed at the booming voice of her older sister, hair rising on the back of her neck while Lila approached. She prayed that it was only a figment of her imagination but the powerful stomp of her sister's step was unmistakable.

"We've been looking all over for you," Lila sighed. Laura was at her side, quiet but authoritative.

"What are you guys doing here?" Lucy hissed.

"You were supposed to meet us half an hour ago," Laura told her.

"Lucy, you didn't tell me you have such lovely sisters," Wilson smiled.

"Shut up, Wilson," Lucy glared at him.

"That' no way to talk to our friend; I'm Lila by the way, and you are?"

"Okay, let's go before I vomit," Lucy said, frantically standing up from her seat and swiping her jacket. She stuck her tongue out at Wilson before nudging her two sisters toward the door. She gave an unhappy scowl as they left the draft room. "You guys can't just show up to my work like that."

"We called you several times," Laura told her. "You know we have a demon to take care of."

"And I have work to take care of. I'm going to be up all night now," Lucy sighed.

"Welcome to being Charmed," Laura said. "I don't think I've slept since we became the Power of Three."

"Who's Wilson? He was cute," Lila told her sister as the three girls stopped by the elevators. Lucy angrily smashed the button to for a lift up.

"He's a pig," she replied.

"I bet he fills out a suit nicely. You should bring him to the wedding," Lila decided.

"You don't even have a date yet," Lucy rolled her eyes as the elevator gave a loud ring. The doors slid open and the Charmed Ones quickly stepped on.

"April 6th," Lila said with a grin.

"That's in a month," she said in awe.

"So much planning, so little time," Lila grinned. "I was thinking of a peach color scheme, what do you think?"

"I think we need to take care of this demon and worry about your wedding later," Laura sighed.

"You're such a buzz kill," she groaned in response.

The elevator stopped at the roof and the three girls casually exited when the door slid open. Wind tore across the city in a springtime blitz, blowing over their matching, bountiful locks of hair. They were alone at the top of the office building, left to the gray San Francisco skyline. Laura gave an unhappy exhale, "Let's get going," she said.

The three of them clasped hands and in a subtle pink flash, quickly disappeared from the city.

She descended the stairs slowly. Chris wondered if she did it on purpose, to torture him with each step. Her slender but toned form moved toward him like a dream. It made him ache and shiver just on a single glance just as powerfully as it did when they were in bed. Full lips, chocolate hair, toasty skin, and almond eyes completed what he considered perfection. Chris wasn't one to go after looks but from the very start Bianca made him swoon.

But she was missing something. She was hard. She was distant. Perhaps that's why Chris liked her as well. She was different. She was durable and rough – the exact support he needed in his rather chaotic world. All of the relationships he'd been in before failed as he was unable to nurture and comfort his significant other. But this was perfect. Bianca was a strong, sexy, and confident woman. She could handle him. In fact, she could handle him so much, that Chris had lost his handle on her.

"Why'd you want to meet here?" Bianca asked him bluntly. The heavy club door slammed shut behind her from above and she easily met Chris at the bar. Her heels clicked on the hard ground. Her glossy pink lips curved into a confident smile. "This is the part where the boyfriend kills the girlfriend. Empty, secluded, soundproof area – usually she's figured out he's a rapist or a serial killer by now."

"Is that what you've figured out about me, detective?" Chris asked. He wanted to smile. He wanted to allow himself to feel the light, giddiness he usually did when she poked fun at him. But he couldn't. He was dry and distant, out of his body, head pounding from the vodka and nerves.

"Not exactly; you're a work in progress," she replied more coolly this time. Bianca could sense his distance. Her eyes narrowed slightly as if focusing on him more closely. She wore a white blouse and charcoal business skirt. She'd been stuck at the station with paperwork all day and since receiving Chris' call had been unable to focus on anything. Bianca still had yet to figure out her feelings. In fact, she hated to admit to herself that she was more worried he was about to break up with her than that he'd perhaps figured out her secret. "What is it Chris? Is it your mom?"

"No," he shook his head.

"Well, you're starting to freak me out. What did you want to talk about?" Bianca sighed. At this Chris reached across the bar and grabbed her hand into his. He was desperate, sullen, and nearly quivering as he touched her skin. Bianca swallowed hard, trying to understand the pain behind his trouble face. "Chris, honey what is it?"

With a sharp inhale as if bracing for cold water or punishment, Chris pushed up the sleeve of her blouse and flipped over her palm to reveal the inside of her wrist. The mark of the Phoenix was between them, proud and dark on her skin. Bianca's mouth dropped and Chris's emerald eyes dove accusingly into hers. "You're a Phoenix."

She pulled her hand back. "It's a birthmark."

"The mark of an assassin witch," Chris said coldly. She shook her head but before she could speak Chris came through with fury. "Don't try to lie to me. I know what you're doing. I know what you're out to accomplish."

Bianca's jaw hitched with anger of her own. She didn't like defeat. She didn't like being called out. Not like this. "How?" she asked.

"I overhead Jack talking to you at the hospital," he replied. "Malum sent you to kill me."

"Pretty smart for a Halliwell," Bianca said. She sighed. "It was fun while it lasted, I suppose."

Chris watched as she turned on a heel, slowly slinking away from the bar. He was steaming now, heart racing beneath his chest. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"I'm leaving," she told him. "What else am I supposed to do?"

"Kill me?"

"I can't do that," Bianca revealed. Chris was already behind her, a hand on her shoulder, yanking her back to face him. She pushed him away from her. "What are you doing?"

"That's all you have to say to me? I find out you're a Phoenix and that's it?"

"What? You want me to kill you?" Bianca yelled. "You want us to duke it out here?"

"I want you to care!" Chris shouted. He was breathing heavily, voice shaking as he set eyes on her. "I want to know that this meant something to you. Was I just a job?"

"Why does it matter? It doesn't make a difference!" Bianca growled.

"It does matter! It does make a difference! Because for the last two months I thought I had something with you," Chris said. "And if you just walk away – if you aren't going to try to follow through with this – then you played with my heart for nothing."

"Why are you doing this?" she shouted. "I'm a Phoenix! That means I can't have feelings for you! And now that you know, you can't have feelings for me, understand?"

"It's not that easy!"

"It is! And why is the pressure suddenly on me to kill you when you have just as much motive to kill me!"

"Because I love you!" Chris yelled. He swallowed down the trembling lump in his throat and viciously ran his hands down his face. "I am in love with you Bianca!"

"Don't say that…" she shook her head frantically.

"I love you and I think you're in love with me too," he continued.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Bianca hissed.

"I know exactly what I'm talking about," Chris said lowly. He stepped toward her, smelling of alcohol, battered by emotion and warm anticipation. This wasn't the fight he meant to choose. But this was where he took his place and he couldn't back down. Bianca stared up at him, her cold front wavering beneath his warmth like it always did. "Tell me you don't love me."

Bianca trembled as his breath hit her face. "I don't," she managed, unable to repeat the exact words. She should have left. It was weakness enough to not kill him on the spot when he confronted her with the truth. Every second in the club was further proof that she was under his spell.

"Prove it," Chris challenged.

She shook her head. "You're pathetic."

"You're a liar," he challenged back. "And even worse – a coward."

It was like going from 0 to 100. Chris should have known better than to finger such a hot button. In an instant Bianca had pulled a blade from the holder up her skirt and brought the edge to his neck. "Don't you ever call me that," she hissed seriously. Chris twitched under the threat of her knife but felt remarkably pleased at the action. Bianca was showing emotion now – angry, scared, raw emotion.

"I'm sorry, coward…"

Chris was met with a fast blow to the face. Bianca's fist moved like a hot iron, simultaneously knocking him across the jaw and slicing the blade through his skin. When he recovered she was a few feet away, stiffened like a cat, ready for anything he had up his sleeve. They exchanged glances for a moment. Chris could taste blood in his mouth. It was fuel to the rage he couldn't express. She'd betrayed him, lied to him, and been one more disappointment in his fucked up life. She deserved his wrath. Without much remorse he threw out an arm, throwing her from her feet with his telekinesis.

Bianca hit the back wall but managed the blow expertly. The momentum from her fall had her up to her feet with quickness and before Chris could prepare his next move, Bianca threw her knife across the room. Chris stepped away from the fast blade not a second too soon, allowing it to whisk by him with its point prepared for impact. When he glanced back to find Bianca she was gone. He tensed, muscles tight and ready, before suddenly the warm mass of her body pressed into his back. She shimmered in behind him, wrapped an angry forearm around his neck, and teased his throat with her blade.

"You're slow, Chris," she told him. "I always expected you to be faster…"

Chris threw his head back and Bianca stumbled. The impact of his skull against her nose was gruesome and she focused intensely on not seeing white. He threw a fist at her as he turned but Bianca easily ducked, jabbing him in the side. Chris grunted at the blow and she quickly grabbed him by the shoulders, throwing her knee into his groin. He gasped, instantly going to his knees. Bianca prepared to strike him with a kick and he grabbed her ankle, tripping her to the floor. Chris threw himself at her, pinning her arms down as she flailed. She spit in his face and Chris slapped her cheek.

Blood ran from her nose from the earlier blow while a viscous line of scarlet marked his cheek. She grabbed fistfuls of his shirt into her hands, doing anything she could to fight under his strength. Chris went for her throat, choking her with fury. As she lost air, Bianca struck toward Chris' face, doing her best to ease the tension. She clawed at his eyes and as Chris groaned and lost his grip, Bianca rolled on top of him. The Phoenix quickly landed two punches to his face, pressing her foot to his abdomen as she got up to her feet.

She staggered once standing, still coughing from her brush with loss of oxygen. Their panting filled the air and as Chris crawled up from the floor, already swollen and bloody, Bianca grabbed a nearby chair. Without any remorse she slammed the heavy furniture across his side, breaking the legs against his ribs. Chris cried out at the attack, resisting the urge to faint at such pain. Instead he hunched over, using only survival instinct to throw Bianca across the room with his telekinesis.

He could hear her rattle into a collection of tables near the stage. Chris wheezed uneasily, tears in his eyes at the burning pain and dark crimson blood so prevalent on his face that he couldn't identify the source. Deeper rage filled the place of uncertainty and depression he previously felt. Running on pure adrenaline and anger, Chris stomped to Bianca's landing place. As she tumbled among the chairs and tables, Chris grunted out a desperate object. "Lights," he said.

The lights above the stage were absorbed in orbs and quickly sent hurling down at his beau. Bianca managed to roll out of the way of the falling object, but glass and metal went in all directions, smacking against her bare skin and face. Chris was mad now – terrified even of himself. All the pain, all the fury he felt from the last few weeks was coming to a head. The stress of Piper's cancer, Melinda's near death, Paige's death, Kate's alcoholism, the Charmed One's duties, his brother's secrets, and his own inadequacies, suddenly had him on the verge of madness. "Speakers!" he called again, lifting the heavy equipment from the stage and sending it toward Bianca.

This time she shimmered out of the way and subconsciously Chris was grateful he hadn't hurt her in his temporary wrath. He felt her reappear a distance behind him and from all his years of battling demons, sensed the electricity of an energy ball coming at his head. Chris quickly ducked, feeling the blue charge skim the top of his brown hair. He swiveled around to find her but Bianca shimmered out as soon as he set eyes on her.

Chris danced around, turning his head in every direction, tripping on his own feet as he went backwards. He wiped the blood from his mouth on his sleeve and took the moment to catch his breath. When she appeared again a hot energy ball was already prepared in her palm and she fired at him without a pause. The blow grazed his bicep and Chris groaned, livened by the harsh wound. Bianca already had another energy ball and Chris weakly raised his good arm, calling with barely any breath in his chest. "Energy ball!"

He launched it across the room back at her, unaware that Bianca had done the same with a fresh ball of blue mayhem. The two energy balls collided between them, sending a terrifying force in both directions. It knocked Chris from his feet, throwing him back behind the bar and crashing into the shelves of liquor bottles. Bianca went flying in the other direction, knocking head first into a wall and landing limp onto a table that broke beneath her weight.

And then the club went silent.

Wyatt gave a long sigh as soon as he landed in the comforts of the Pent House. His neck and feet throbbed from seven straight hours of cooking and managing the Triquetra. He unsnapped the collar of his chef's jacket, shirking his shoulders out of the constricting white uniform. Wyatt wasn't one to allow fatigue or stress to wear him down so aggressively, but lately he was beginning to feel the stretch. So much tension and uncertainty surrounded his mother, Chris, and Melinda that he could hardly stand it. They were all in desperate need of a cleanse from the chaos; a cleanse they didn't have the time for.

At times he felt guilty for not doing more. But part of Wyatt's gift was his patience and his willingness to sit back from the battle while others threw themselves in. It hadn't always been this way. It'd taken many daring years – especially through his twenties – until he began to understand that his role in the universe wasn't pursuing problems or fixing mayhem. Enough of that came on it's own time without any prodding, so he now took to waiting for the trouble to find him. He only hoped Chris would learn the same philosophy soon.

As he ran the sink and splashed cool water on his face, Wyatt was interrupted by a knock on the door. He eagerly patted down his cheeks before reaching the foyer, towel slung over his shoulder. A large arrangement of flowers greeted him on the other side of the door. A pair of shocking green eyes stared at him from between the petals and stems and Wyatt gave a wide grin.

"Those aren't for me are they?" he asked.

"Don't be silly," the man answered. He lowered the vase and stepped inside. "Your brother home?"

"No, he's out," Wyatt smiled.

"Good," he replied, setting the flowers down on the kitchen table. Wyatt's heart fluttered as he closed the space between them and in an instant the two were locked in a kiss.

Zander Crosley was Wyatt's boyfriend of seven months – one of the longest relationships he'd ever been in. The two had known each other for quite some time. Zander owned and operated his own business as a florist, and the Triquetra was a frequent client. While he took notice of Wyatt from the start while delivering arrangements, it'd taken the chef much longer to express his own interest. After all, keeping his sexuality secret from his family never made it easy to scope out a partner. Wyatt's love life usually consisted of brief periods of dating, never intimate, never too long, and for those reasons, almost always unsatisfying.

That's why Zander was different. He was open and enthusiastic and patient. He understood Wyatt's difficulty coming out to his family and though initially frustrated with the sneaking around, came to accept it as a temporary part of their relationship.

"Your mom likes lilies, right?" Zander asked.

"Yeah," Wyatt answered slowly. "Why?"

"Well, I wasn't going to show up tonight empty handed," he answered. "Besides, considering what she must be going through right now, I thought some flowers could be nice…"

Wyatt swallowed hard, chewing on his lower lip as Zander continued. He stopped midsentence and narrowed his emerald eyes. "What is it?"

"I uh…" Wyatt sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't know you were planning on coming."

Zander's face dropped slightly. "Oh," he managed.

"It's not that I don't want you to come," Wyatt said quickly. "I just don't think tonight is the best night."

The handsome twenty-six year old gave a slow sigh. His dark locks were boyish and shiny against his pale white skin. He always made Wyatt's heart race. And now as he appeared frustrated and hurt, a waft of guilt overcame him. "Your whole family knows now," Zander said. "You said when you told them, I could meet them and…"

"I know, I said that," Wyatt told him. "And I don't want you to be upset."

"I'm tired of just being your boyfriend, Wyatt. I want to be a part of your life. I don't like being hidden away like some dirty secret," Zander glared.

"You're not a dirty secret. I just don't want to bring you into these circumstances. My cousin just got back from rehab and I have a feeling that my mom is going to tell everyone about the cancer…"

"What? And you're too ashamed to bring your boyfriend?" Zander challenged.

"That's not what I'm saying," he groaned, running his hands down his face. He paced in front of the windows that were turning a dusky blue with the evening light. "It's just going to take some time for everyone to get used to…"

"No, Wyatt, I think it's taking you some time to get used to," Zander replied. He grabbed the vase from table. "I thought when you talked about dinner you had come around to the idea of letting me in. I hate to think of how much longer I'll have to wait…"

"You're blowing this out of proportion! It was a miscommunication," Wyatt insisted in frustration as Zander made his way for the penthouse door.

"Is it? Because the message I'm getting is that you still don't want me around your family," Zander said. "Now there's no excuse to hide behind, no more secrecy. The message is loud and clear, Wyatt."

"Zander…"

"Have a nice dinner," he clipped before slamming the door shut.

Wyatt groaned, smacking a palm to his forehead. He squeezed his eyes shut and sighed. His relationship was supposed to be easier with his honesty but instead he'd breached new territory. He'd have to take a step he'd never dared to before – integrating his love life and his family.

Piper Halliwell had made the climb to the attic more than a thousand times. The creek of the stairs, the worn smoothness of the banister, and musky smell of dust and herbs was unmistakable. The abode represented the part of her life that was filled with danger, urgency, and battle. It was strange to think that the next stage, the next fight, would have no place here. With Paige's death and the rise of her nieces as the new Charmed Ones, she was beginning to understand that perhaps she no longer had a place here in the attic, among the Book and potions. But her illness, the cancer tormenting her frail body, was a definite sign that it was perhaps time to adhere to retirement. And still, though the next battle for her life, for her family, wasn't captured in spells or potions, it was still harbored here, up in the attic, past the creaky stairs and dust.

Curled up on the sofa, Book of Shadows on her lap was her youngest. Melinda hardly stirred when Piper entered and continued to nonchalantly turn through the pages. Her hair was tied back, a few loose pieces falling into her eyes as she read. "Great-great grandpa Gordon died of cancer," she said aloud.

Piper eased onto the cushion next to her. "I didn't know that," she replied.

"There are no spells or anything in here. I keep trying to find a way around personal gain or something that wouldn't backfire but it's just not here," Melinda whispered. She met her mother's gaze. It broke Piper's heart to hear her daughter's desperation. To see the one of her three children who most ardently resisted magic, turn to it for answers. Melinda shook her head. "This wasn't supposed to happen. Not to you."

She gave a grim smile in response and swallowed hard. "I'm only human," Piper told her.

Melinda swallowed hard. "But you're one of the most powerful witches on Earth," she reasoned. "I don't understand why any of this is happening."

"I don't know," Piper replied softly.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner? Why did you hide it from me?" Melinda asked.

"I was afraid," Piper confessed.

"Afraid?"

"I didn't want to hurt you anymore than you've been hurting," she said. "That's been the hardest part of any of this. I've spent my life trying to protect you and your brothers…"

"But you don't need to," Melinda cut her off. She sniffled past the tears shed before Piper's appearance in the attic. "That's what's been bothering me this whole week. Everyone treats me like a kid – you especially. I can handle more than you think."

"I suppose you're right," Piper muttered. She stared down at her hands. "I guess I just always think of you as that little girl. You know, your father and I thought…"

"That you couldn't have kids anymore after Wyatt and Chris," Melinda finished with a light chuckle. "I know, mom."

"You were our miracle child. The little girl we always wanted," Piper said, tears in her eyes now. "I wanted to give you everything I never had. Everything that your brothers never had. I wanted you to have a normal, gentle, easy life…"

"But you can't promise me that, mom," she whispered. She sniffled again, tears forming in her eyes as well. "There will always be demons and breakups and injury and-and cancer. But I'm an adult now. I'm not going to hide. And you can't hide me either."

Piper reached out and stroked some of her daughter's brown hair. The same hair as her own. Hair she would probably lose in the next few months. "You remind me of me," she smiled.

Melinda shook her head. "I'm not like you," she said with a frown. "I could never be like you. At least, I'm not the witch you are. I never will be."

"What are you talking about? You're a Halliwell," Piper told her.

"But I'm not strong or brave like you…"

"Don't ever say that," Piper cut her off seriously. She put her hand under her daughter's chin. Her dark eyes dove into hers with intensity and fortitude. In the last week she'd been trying to get through to Melinda. She'd been walking on eggshells, trying to be gentle and careful. But now the words came through with force and gravity. "You are strong and you are brave and you are so much better and so much more than I could have ever asked for. You're compassionate and wise and you have the kindest heart I know. There is so much goodness in you, Melinda. More than in me or your aunts or brothers. You have the same goodness as your father – and he was an angel for goodness sake. It's the ability to love deeply and wholly and generously and that's the greatest gift you could ask for. The greatest gift I could ever want for you."

A few tears fell from Melinda's eyes as she stayed locked on her mother's face. It was a moment she knew she would remember forever. Piper always told her kind things, always assured her of how "special" she was like any other parent, but something about this meant more. There was power and emotion behind each sentence like a final verdict. Melinda clung to it now more than ever as they prepared to face the oncoming storm.

"Thank you," she managed in a whisper.

Piper was crying silently as well but there were no sniffles or sobs. She swallowed past the urge to break into hysterics. Ever since learning of her diagnosis she'd been stoic. She felt little self-pity and managed no tears. But now she couldn't hold the brave face. Not as she witnessed the pain of her daughter and realized all the greater pain they were about to face. Not when she thought of never seeing Melinda's face again and never witnessing the sweet grandchildren her daughter would bring her. She let the tears continue rolling as she continued. "I need you to remember that, okay?" Piper told her. "Promise me that you'll remember that. No matter what happens, I need you to…"

"I know, I know, I will. I love you," Melinda whimpered through abrupt sobs that rocked her chest and ran down her face in wet streaks. She moved forward as best she could against the fragileness of her back and coward into her mother.

"I love you too," Piper cried loudly too and eagerly took her into her arms. They stayed there on the sofa, clinging to each other in the attic for several long moments. They cried stridently and freely with plenty of tears and whimpers and sobs.

As much as she loved her husband and her sister and her sons, this was something she could only share with her daughter. Melinda was the closest part of her. The greatest mark she would leave behind. She was the last pure Halliwell witch. And in the moment they were pulled tightly together by the bond only cultivated between a mother and a daughter. This was the only place they could be. It was the only place to prepare for the fight. In the attic, atop the creaking stairs, with the dust and herbs and Book. The place where all great fights took place for the Halliwells. The place where another great fight would start again.

"You ever wonder what this building was before we started using it?" Lucy asked her sisters. The three of them occupied an abandon warehouse that appeared to be an old manufacturing garage prior to its vacancy. It was rather grim inside among the falling plaster, broken glass, and loose debris but with its distance from people and soundproof walls it was a perfect place to lure demons.

"It would be a good place to kill someone," Lila said, kicking aside a wood plank on the concrete floor. She wore heavy boots – her demon boots as she called them, tight pants, and a dark turtle neck. Lila had an outfit for every occasion and according to her demon hunting was no different. She always appeared as something out of a spy movie.

"Do you think I could do this without these damn heels on?" Lucy asked, glaring down at her own outfit. Coming from work had her in a tight navy skirt and blouse, leaving her rather out of place in their current environment.

"It'll be fast, I promise," Laura assured. Even Laura had adopted demon hunting wear. Though not as fashionable or flamboyant as Lila, she sported hiking boots, jeans, and a canvas field vest. As she glanced at her youngest sister even she felt sympathy. She quickly pulled the spell from one of her many pockets. "We ready?"

"I think so," Lila replied, pulling an athame from her thigh holder. She handed it to Lucy. "Remember, we need a slice of flesh big enough for the potion."

"Got it," Lucy nodded. The three of them moved closer together, holding hands with Laura in the middle. Then in a memorized chant, the three of them began:

"Magic Forces, Black and White, Reaching out Through, Space and Light, Be He Far Or, Be He Near, Bring Us the Demon, Velas Here."

Electricity filled the air as a subtle wind picked up. Hair stood on the back of their necks and they tensed in the pause before the storm. Then suddenly, landing in a forceful silver light, was the demon Velas. He landed in confusion, giving a low growl that echoed off the walls. Muscles bulged beneath his thin black shirt, popping out from his neck and shoulders and arms. His eyes were the same blackness as his greasy hair and popped with a frightening hue against his pale white skin. This was the demon who struck terror against their cousin only a week ago. He'd attacked her quietly and viciously and intimately – it was no wonder Melinda stood little chance.

The plan was one taken from their predecessor's Book. Distract, freeze, and slice. But plans were only meant to be destroyed when it came to demons. "Positions," Laura murmured as Velas set his dark gaze on them. A large sapphire energy ball formed in his right hand and when he hurled it at them, Lila quickly blocked the attack with her telekinesis.

In the meantime Lucy charged him, throwing a high kick at his head. He quickly caught her ankle and threw her across the room and she groaned as she landed on her ass. In the meantime Lila teleported behind him and kicked him in the back. Velas stumbled forward toward Laura who prepared to freeze him once he was in range. Just as she raised her hands, Velas threw out an angry arm, sending Laura flying to the wall. She groaned as her shoulders were battered against the hard surface.

Velas turned and looked to take out Lila next. He threw a punch which she took and retaliated with a chop to his shoulder and a jab to his side. When he wound up another punch, Laura was back on her feet, quickly assaulting his back with a combustion. He cried out at the fire and sparks hitting his back, giving Lila an easy chance to strike. She gave a deep grunt, throwing her arms down for leverage, and slammed a foot into his chest. Velas was launched from his feet and skidded back on the ground.

Laura quickly froze Velas where he landed and frantically looked around the room. "Lucy!" she called. It wouldn't be long before the freeze wore off and they still needed a slice of flesh.

"Coming!" she yelled. Lucy sprinted over, recovered from her earlier fall, knife in hand for the task of collecting a piece of Velas. Her heels clicked loudly and she balanced precariously, moving slower than she would have otherwise.

"Hurry!" Lila shouted, catching her breath with hands on her knees.

"You try wearing heels to a vanquish!" Lucy growled. She stumbled behind Velas and reached to make the cut. Before the blade could even find his skin, Velas was back in motion, grunting and easily grabbing Lucy from behind.

"Lucy!"

He yanked on her arms, flipping her over his head where he sat and tossed her at her sisters. The three girls went down like bowling pins and the blade slid across the floor. Before the girls could react Velas quickly shimmered out, leaving them groaning on the ground.

The girls were a tangle of arms and legs. "You're on my arm," Laura moaned. Lila blew hair out of her face and grunted as Lucy pushed off her head to stand up. Lila then moved to her knees with the help of Laura's back who let out a hiss of pain before standing herself.

"That was a cluster fuck," Lila sighed.

"Now what do we do?" Lucy asked. She bent over and picked up the athame.

"We follow him," Lila replied. "If we go now, Laura will still be able to sense his trail…"

"No, that's a bad idea," Laura said, brushing sawdust off her chest.

"What are you talking about?" Lila asked.

"He's going to go to the Underworld and we don't have any back up there. I say we go back and…"

"And what, try again later?" Lucy asked. "Let's just do this now."

"If we don't go after him, the next time we summon him or anyone for that matter they'll know all they have to do is go to the Underworld and the Charmed Ones will be too chicken to follow," Lila reasoned, casually examining her cuticles.

"Two against one, sis," Lucy replied. She played with the knife, twirling the athame around her hand like a baton.

Laura shook her head. "This is a bad idea," she insisted again. "If something happens we can't call Wyatt or Chris and…"

"We can teleport back up. We'll be fine," Lila told her.

"Now lead us down this motherfucker's trail, I'm ready to do some slicing and dicing," Lucy said enthusiastically.

Despite the uneasy feeling in her stomach Laura decided to avoid the fight with her sisters. It may not have been part of the plan but she knew it wasn't likely to be a perfect vanquish anyway. But something told her this wasn't going to be good. Something told her they were playing with fire. She grabbed onto Lila and Lucy's hands and with a deep breath, teleported them to hotter flames.

Bianca Lynn Lawrence opened her eyes to blinding pain. She gritted her teeth against the pangs vibrating in her skull and through her bones. She was hurt. She recognized the adrenaline coursing through her veins to numb her injuries. In her ten years as an assassin witch she recognized the signs. More importantly she knew how to fight under such pressure and afflictions. It was survival instinct coupled with years of intensive training.

She silently moved to her feet, using the wall to help her up. Her heart raced, working frantically to keep up with her shaking, painful breaths. Her ribs were throbbing, her back was bruising, and dried patches of blood covered her face. She'd lost her high heels sometime during the battle, leaving her bare feet vulnerable to the broken glass and other broken pieces of furniture in the club.

For some reason, among the franticness and pain, Bianca felt a deep rage at a party not present in her current battle. As she gritted her teeth and wiped blood from her hands onto her work blouse, she silently cursed Lynn Lawrence. Her mother, a Phoenix who had taught Bianca the craft and art of assassin work, was a cold, distant woman. A woman who did her work without compassion and without feeling. But in all her lessons, Lynn never warned Bianca that it didn't mean the feelings weren't there. It wasn't always as easy as the kill.

She tried to shake the uncertainty from her head. She had to kill Chris Halliwell. She had to finish the job. There was movement behind the bar across the club and Bianca slowly rolled an energy ball. It warmed her gashed up hand and she struggled to keep her balance on her tired feet. Chris was just getting his bearings. It was a perfect time to strike.

Bianca grunted and fired the energy ball at his head. In an instant she heard him croak out "energy ball" and the blue sphere whisked back in her direction. She dove out of the way, colliding with a few chairs. Her battered body screamed at the movement. She could hear Chris clamor around the club searching for her.

"Don't run away from me! Come out!"

She remained on the ground for a few moments, collecting the last spurt of energy she had. She pulled in a long breath and exhaled slowly. And then in an instant she shimmered out. Bianca landed agilely behind him and with a war cry, tackled Chris to the ground. She hadn't exactly had a plan but she was running on little fuel and adrenaline.

Bianca won the battle for the top and began strangling him with desperation. She brought out her blade with the other. Her hands were tired but Chris' face slowly turned red, tears coming to his eyes. Blood was caked on his face, coming from gashes and his mouth and other wounds. She could hardly stand to see him like this. But she fought against herself. She had to be strong and cold and unfeeling. "Bianca, don't…"

His voice made her hesitate and in an instant he tossed her away. She tripped back and landed against the bar chairs while Chris got up to his feet. Bianca was embarrassed now, enraged that he'd made her look weak and emotional. He threw a chair at her and Bianca shimmered out behind him. She landed behind his head of chestnut hair and still hot with fury and embarrassment she chucked an energy ball at him. Chris turned and caught it without a second to spare.

And suddenly they were facing each other with death in their hands.

For a few seconds they caught their breaths. They were both broken and blood and bruised. It was hard to believe that two people who cared about each other could do this. They could hardly stand, swaying on their injured forms. Bianca swallowed hard. She goaded him on. "Go on."

"You first."

She shook her head. She needed him to do it first. She needed him to give her a reason. Bianca couldn't just kill him. Not this time. She thought of teasing him. Perhaps then he'd be motivated. Perhaps then he'd realize how much he wanted to kill her, how much he hated her, and how he didn't love her. Then she could kill him. Then Bianca could let herself finish the job. "You don't want to do this, Chris," she taunted cockily. "You don't really want to kill me."

"You're right," he nodded, lowering his energy ball.

"What are you doing?" she asked breathlessly.

"Just do it," he said, taking a step closer. Bianca stepped back. Her heart raced. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. He wasn't supposed to give up.

"What's wrong with you?"

"If you want to kill me so bad, just do it," Chris said.

She couldn't' tell if he was serious or crazy. "Don't be stupid…"

"Do it! Let me make it easy for you."

"No!"

"Now! Do it!" he screamed. Their voices and yells filled the air. They were raw and ruined and Bianca could hardly stand the air and pressure. Sweat and blood and now tears stood between them. She had to do it. Bianca tightened her grip and looked him they eye. She was about to kill Chris Halliwell.

But the kill wasn't right.

She couldn't do it.

When the energy ball left her hand, it soared far above Chris' head, nearly hitting the ceiling before evaporating. She gave a long sigh, tears now in her eyes. She'd failed. Chris remained unfazed. He knew before she did that Bianca couldn't follow through. She sniffled and now trembled with fear.

"Bianca…"

"Stay the fuck away from me," she grunted hoarsely. Bianca stepped back when he went for her.

"It's okay," Chris told her. "I'm not going to hurt you. I can't hurt you."

Bianca shook her head. More cries rocked her body. "I can't do it," she whimpered.

Chris moved for her and this time she was motionless. He placed gentle hands on her shoulders. "We're going to be okay," he said.

"No we're not, Chris," Bianca shook her head. "This is so fucked up. I'm supposed to kill you!"

"I'll protect you…"

"I don't need your protection," she hissed. "I just need you to stay away from me!"

"Bianca…"

"We can't do this, Chris," Bianca told him seriously. "This isn't some fairytale."

"I know," he whispered. Tears formed in his beaten eyes as well. "I just…I love you."

Bianca shook her head. "You can't," she said.

With the grim words, Bianca shimmered out. Chris took a step back and collapsed down among the chairs and debris. He had lived to see another day. But he hadn't won. And he was beginning to realize that perhaps this was a battle he could never win.

Another addition! Thanks to all those who left a review - new readers and old! I'm gonna try to pump out another segment for you guys over my spring break but it's always a fight for time. A few things to address, that I'm sure will come up: I changed Alex's name to Zander. I don't know why but it sounded better to me. Also I have been continuously updating the wiki (link on profile) for this story so be sure to check it out to see new play-bys and other information for those who make appearances. Also a long time ago someone noticed that I changed Nick's last name from Peterson to Rizzo. Sorry about that, Rizzo just sounded better to me ;) I think that's it! Let me know if there are any other questions or suggestions, I love hearing the feedback :) Thanks and leave a quick review of what you like or don't like if you can! ~ Sammy