Part Twelve.
The next couple of days passed in a blur for Paige as she constantly orbed away from the danger that was her nephew. She was far too terrified to go back to the manor - the mere thought of seeing her sisters' bodies make her retch. The image of Piper and Phoebe's grey faces as the demon that had possessed Wyatt sucked the life out of them still lingered in Paige's brain, and their silent, pleading screams as they died had echoed around her head ever since that fateful day.
She had called for Leo hour after hour, hoping that Wyatt's statement had been a lie, but the Whitelighter had never replied. The Elders had been no help at all, simply telling her that she would eventually die and all she could do was run. They hadn't even mentioned Leo.
Sitting on an overstuffed chair in a motel room she had rented out, her haven, Paige wrapped her arms around her legs, pulled her knees up to her chest and stared out of the window at the darkening sky. Even though it was only August, she noticed that it was getting dark much earlier. Whether or not it was a side effect of Wyatt's power, she didn't know, and didn't care. The dark had scared her at first. She had lain in bed, wide awake, ever since Piper and Phoebe had died, too terrified to sleep in case Wyatt found her. She wasn't so scared now, but still refused to sleep. There were a thousand voices, emotions, screams in her head, and for some odd reason they comforted her. She could only pick out several of the voices - it was her sisters, all three of them, including the one that she had never met - all of them, telling her to hold on, be strong, everything would turn out okay.
The tears had long dried on Paige's cheeks. It had only been a week, but she had cried so much that there was no longer any sobs inside her. All she could do now, to pass her time, was try and think back on the happy memories that she had with her two sisters. Yet her brain refused to go past the day that they died. It was as if it were trying to blank out everything before the nightmare began.
Suddenly longing not to be alone anymore, Paige got to her feet, glanced at her reflection in the cracked mirror, and sighed. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was tangled and greasy, and her jeans and shirt, which she hadn't changed, were still covered in the blood from the wound on her head. Reaching for a fresh pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and hastily running a comb through her hair, she left her motel room in search of comfort.
*
Glen frowned as the doorbell rang, and left the soup bubbling on the stove to look at the clock. It was just past six o'clock. His wife, Jessica, glanced up from the table where she was sitting reading a paper. "You want me to get that?"
He peered around the kitchen window at the front door, and his eyes widened as he saw Paige standing there. Knowing that Jessica would never be particularly fond of the young witch, he shook his head hastily. "No, I'll get it. Just keep an eye on the soup, okay?"
"Sure."
Glen pulled open the front door and stepped out into the porch, shutting the door behind him so that Jessica wouldn't hear Paige talking. "Paige - what are you doing here?" He knew instantly that something was wrong. Her eyes were full of a sadness he had never seen before.
"Uhm." Paige glanced around, looking bewildered.
"What's wrong?" He put a hand on her arm and moved them both out of sight of the kitchen window. She took a deep breath, her eyes filling with tears she thought she had cried away.
"I don't know how - how to say it." She swallowed. "There was no one to tell."
"Tell what?"
"Piper - and Phoebe." She looked up, suddenly seeming so young and vulnerable, not like the powerful witch Glen knew at all. "They're dead, Glen."
He stared at her, unable to absorb the shocking news. "Uh - what? How?"
"And that's the worst part. Wyatt. Wyatt did it." Paige burst into a fresh bout of tears, silently cursing herself. Glen completely forgot about his wife, and, yanking open the front door, pulled Paige inside. Jessica appeared in the kitchen doorway, a confused expression on her face.
"Glen? What's wrong with Paige?"
"Not now, Jessica." He snapped, drawing Paige into a hug. Jessica's eyebrows raised, but she said nothing. Paige looked like she needed some comfort.
Paige found herself more sobbing with relief than grief as Glen held her. She had thought that she would be alone forever - yet in Glen's arms, she felt safe, and happy.
For a second.
Glen suddenly let go of Paige, his eyes wide in shock. "Jessica?"
Paige spun around, and instantly recognized the graying look on the blonde's face. Yet Wyatt was nowhere in sight.
"Jessica, what's wrong?" Glen leapt forwards, catching his wife just as she fell. "Paige, call an ambulance. Quickly!"
Paige shook her head. "No."
"What the hell do you mean no?"
"It's too late, Glen." She stared at the floor. "He's killed her, just like he killed my sisters."
"She's not dead!" He began to cry. "Dammit, Paige, call 911!"
"We've got to get out of here!" Paige yelled. "I don't know where Wyatt is, but if he managed to kill Jessica without even being in the same room, then he's more powerful. He'll come for us next. We've got to go."
Glen shook his head, his eyes blazing. "No. I'm not leaving her. She's not dead."
"She has no life in her anymore." Paige replied sadly. "It's over. We've got to go."
"No."
"Glen, he'll kill you!"
He looked up, his face a mixture of pain and anger. "I don't care. I just have to be with her. If I can't be with her, then there's no point in living. He can kill me. I'm not afraid of death if it means I'll be with her forever. I don't understand why you'd rather stay alone and alive for the rest of your life rather than be with the people you love most always."
Paige turned away slowly, tears slipping down her cheeks. She was tearing apart.
The next couple of days passed in a blur for Paige as she constantly orbed away from the danger that was her nephew. She was far too terrified to go back to the manor - the mere thought of seeing her sisters' bodies make her retch. The image of Piper and Phoebe's grey faces as the demon that had possessed Wyatt sucked the life out of them still lingered in Paige's brain, and their silent, pleading screams as they died had echoed around her head ever since that fateful day.
She had called for Leo hour after hour, hoping that Wyatt's statement had been a lie, but the Whitelighter had never replied. The Elders had been no help at all, simply telling her that she would eventually die and all she could do was run. They hadn't even mentioned Leo.
Sitting on an overstuffed chair in a motel room she had rented out, her haven, Paige wrapped her arms around her legs, pulled her knees up to her chest and stared out of the window at the darkening sky. Even though it was only August, she noticed that it was getting dark much earlier. Whether or not it was a side effect of Wyatt's power, she didn't know, and didn't care. The dark had scared her at first. She had lain in bed, wide awake, ever since Piper and Phoebe had died, too terrified to sleep in case Wyatt found her. She wasn't so scared now, but still refused to sleep. There were a thousand voices, emotions, screams in her head, and for some odd reason they comforted her. She could only pick out several of the voices - it was her sisters, all three of them, including the one that she had never met - all of them, telling her to hold on, be strong, everything would turn out okay.
The tears had long dried on Paige's cheeks. It had only been a week, but she had cried so much that there was no longer any sobs inside her. All she could do now, to pass her time, was try and think back on the happy memories that she had with her two sisters. Yet her brain refused to go past the day that they died. It was as if it were trying to blank out everything before the nightmare began.
Suddenly longing not to be alone anymore, Paige got to her feet, glanced at her reflection in the cracked mirror, and sighed. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was tangled and greasy, and her jeans and shirt, which she hadn't changed, were still covered in the blood from the wound on her head. Reaching for a fresh pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and hastily running a comb through her hair, she left her motel room in search of comfort.
*
Glen frowned as the doorbell rang, and left the soup bubbling on the stove to look at the clock. It was just past six o'clock. His wife, Jessica, glanced up from the table where she was sitting reading a paper. "You want me to get that?"
He peered around the kitchen window at the front door, and his eyes widened as he saw Paige standing there. Knowing that Jessica would never be particularly fond of the young witch, he shook his head hastily. "No, I'll get it. Just keep an eye on the soup, okay?"
"Sure."
Glen pulled open the front door and stepped out into the porch, shutting the door behind him so that Jessica wouldn't hear Paige talking. "Paige - what are you doing here?" He knew instantly that something was wrong. Her eyes were full of a sadness he had never seen before.
"Uhm." Paige glanced around, looking bewildered.
"What's wrong?" He put a hand on her arm and moved them both out of sight of the kitchen window. She took a deep breath, her eyes filling with tears she thought she had cried away.
"I don't know how - how to say it." She swallowed. "There was no one to tell."
"Tell what?"
"Piper - and Phoebe." She looked up, suddenly seeming so young and vulnerable, not like the powerful witch Glen knew at all. "They're dead, Glen."
He stared at her, unable to absorb the shocking news. "Uh - what? How?"
"And that's the worst part. Wyatt. Wyatt did it." Paige burst into a fresh bout of tears, silently cursing herself. Glen completely forgot about his wife, and, yanking open the front door, pulled Paige inside. Jessica appeared in the kitchen doorway, a confused expression on her face.
"Glen? What's wrong with Paige?"
"Not now, Jessica." He snapped, drawing Paige into a hug. Jessica's eyebrows raised, but she said nothing. Paige looked like she needed some comfort.
Paige found herself more sobbing with relief than grief as Glen held her. She had thought that she would be alone forever - yet in Glen's arms, she felt safe, and happy.
For a second.
Glen suddenly let go of Paige, his eyes wide in shock. "Jessica?"
Paige spun around, and instantly recognized the graying look on the blonde's face. Yet Wyatt was nowhere in sight.
"Jessica, what's wrong?" Glen leapt forwards, catching his wife just as she fell. "Paige, call an ambulance. Quickly!"
Paige shook her head. "No."
"What the hell do you mean no?"
"It's too late, Glen." She stared at the floor. "He's killed her, just like he killed my sisters."
"She's not dead!" He began to cry. "Dammit, Paige, call 911!"
"We've got to get out of here!" Paige yelled. "I don't know where Wyatt is, but if he managed to kill Jessica without even being in the same room, then he's more powerful. He'll come for us next. We've got to go."
Glen shook his head, his eyes blazing. "No. I'm not leaving her. She's not dead."
"She has no life in her anymore." Paige replied sadly. "It's over. We've got to go."
"No."
"Glen, he'll kill you!"
He looked up, his face a mixture of pain and anger. "I don't care. I just have to be with her. If I can't be with her, then there's no point in living. He can kill me. I'm not afraid of death if it means I'll be with her forever. I don't understand why you'd rather stay alone and alive for the rest of your life rather than be with the people you love most always."
Paige turned away slowly, tears slipping down her cheeks. She was tearing apart.