Piper touched her husband's cheek gently, careful not to touch the bruise stretched across it. A single tear rolled down her own cheek, followed by others, spilling down her paled face. Leo raised his hand weakly and gripped Piper's fingers.
"Isn't there anything I could do?" Piper asked, brushing a few strands of blonde hair off Leo's forehead. Pain reflected onto his face briefly, and Piper instantly regretted questioning her helplessness.
"I…" Leo began. Piper finished his sentence in her mind with a painstaking "don't know". She studied his face with renewed hope when he didn't complete his sentence. Ideas blazed through Leo's head, but he ended dissing all of them.
"I love you, Piper," Leo whispered. Piper's heart plummeted. Leo had given up hope, succumbed to the fact that the poison in him will kill him. Piper knew it was so, but she wanted to find a cure for him. Piper squeezed his hand reassuringly.
"I love you too," Piper replied. Leo smiled softly and closed his eyes. Piper felt his hand relax under her grip. Her heart started to race in panic and fear. She lifted his limp hand and pressed two fingers to his wrist.
"Leo," Piper squeaked as fresh tears appeared. Her heart slowed as a faint pulse throbbed under her fingers. She gulped down her remaining tears and told herself he was only unconscious.
"I'll do anything to bring you back," Piper promised her husband and placed his hand at his side. Casting a last look at her husband, she hurried up to the attic, assuring herself that the Book of Shadows would have an answer. It always did, even if it was in some round-about way.
Piper swung the attic door open and billowed in. She grabbed the ancient tome and flipped the leather cover. When she first glimpsed the pages, memories popped in her mind – of her first days as a witch.
Piper used to wish that she wasn't a witch. But now, at the face of death, she admitted the truth to herself – the truth she had kept buried in the depth of her heart and with Leo.
"I want to remain a witch, to die a witch." Piper's brave voice rang through the wooden attic. Being a witch had brought her Leo, and being a witch would save Leo too. Piper abandoned her thoughts and continued to browse the book.
"To summon a spell-demon," Piper read aloud. She gulped and read on. A spell-demon was not dangerous, but very old, and judging by the expression on the coloured drawing on the opposite page, the spell demon was very cold. In heart. In every demon's possession would be a few ancient half-forgotten spells. The difficulty was not in calling the demon, but in getting the demon to give a copy of the needed spell. It would require the witch to give away something dear to her, but thankfully not involving the recipient of the spell itself. The more powerful the spell, the more dearly the gift.
Piper tapped the page, and knew what she had to do.