** Change of Heart **, chapter 16: And so it begins...

by Lilian.

lilian413@yahoo.com


AN: So so sorry about taking so long to post this! Major author-crisis past (for now: had you asked me that a few weeks ago I would've run screaming for cover), you can thank the Two Towers (and its yummy Legolas) for this, 'k? *lol* But never fear, because chapters 17 *and* 18 are done, and as soon as Barb finishes with them they should be up for your reading pleasure.

AN2: to all of those who voted on who the misterious voice was, here's your answer. Those who won, congratulations! Those who didn't-- well, there's always other cliffhangers I can send your way for you to guess!

To Ashley: yeah, I know I like to drag things on for a while (ie. forever), but don't you worry. I think you're going to like the ending for this thing, and even more what's to come.

To Jaki: how is that hat tasting? *grin*

On with it!



***************


When Shier entered the room, he didn't know what to expect.

He knew Jhiera was an excellent warrior (hell, he had *taught* her most of her moves back in the old days!), but then again, if half the rumors that circulated in the Underworld were true, Phax was a powerful force by herself.

Which was why he was willing to keep on open mind as he entered the training chambers.

What he didn't expect to see was the two women standing in opposite corners of the room, bloodied and sweating--- hadn't he heard Jhiera's triumphant cry just a few seconds before, he would've deemed this fight null... the way the demoness was clutching her injured arm to her side while brushing a steady trail of blood coming down her forehead could *not* be called a victory.

Then again, Phax was in much worse shape.

There was a limp in her right leg as she knelt down to retrieve a towel to clean herself with, and the gash running across her chest was oddly matching with the one she was sporting on her forearm. The way her shirt had been slashed open, revealing a sports bra and quite a whole lot more of flesh than was proper did not go unnoticed to Shier.

As he and Jhiera had talked, he had come to imagine his own image of Phax. Having never met neither the Charmed Ones nor the newly born demon, he had little to base his view on--- and Jhiera's descriptions of her were obviously biased.

She was gorgeous.

Her black eyes were the most alluring thing Shier had ever seen, both in the way they swallowed every speck of light that came within range and because they indicated a level of power well above his own.

And he loved power as much as he loved women.

Casting one glance at Jhiera, he nodded slightly at her, and the purple-eyed demoness nodded in response. 'Don't fuck up', she mouthed at him before shimmering away.

His temper flared. She didn't need to tell him what to do-- he was an upper level demon, for Hell's sake, he *knew* how to do this! It wasn't the first time he charmed his way into a demon's mind (be it male or female, he mused to himself, remembering his first sex escapades), and it wouldn't be the last.

Besides, if the raised eyebrow on Phax's face was any indication, this 'assignment' of his was going to be much more fun than he first thought it would be.

"Hello there", he tried, letting his powers stretch out from around him and towards her. One thing about Shier that not many people knew, was the fact that even if he was a full bred demon, as a result of one particularly nasty incantation he also had incubi blood in his veins. The vampires who feed on lust, provoking it in their victims before drinking it all in and killing them in the process. He did not bite (not usually, anyway), nor did he drink from people--- what he *did* do was arouse them, pushing inhibitions back and desires forth... and that was what he was doing right about now.

It had been his way of escalating in the Underworld ladder since he could remember; it had yet to fail him, and he was betting it would not fail him now.

"What the hell do you want?".

Phax's answer was obscured with phantom pain, and the grimace that flashed across her features was so quick he almost missed it. Almost. And he knew bravado when he saw it--- she was in pain, and that made her all the easier to confuse. With pain already clouding her judgment, his own influence was masking itself and before she knew it, he would have her eating off his hand...

"To help you".

That earned him a harsh chuckle from her part and he couldn't help but notice the way her breasts seemed just about ready to pop out of her half destroyed bra. He didn't realize he had been staring until her hard words woke him: "Hey, heads up pervert".

However, she made no move to cover herself, and that was proof enough that she liked what he was doing. Whether it was his own doing or the fact that what Jhiera had told him was true (that Phax hadn't gotten any in over a year) he wasn't sure. Either way, it suited him... he was quite the sweet talker, but when things got physical--- well, most men exaggerated their bedroom abilities. He didn't.

A sudden flash of warmth flooded him as he realized this little woman held so much power within herself, that she'd probably be as much of a sport in bed as he was. And his interest rose several points when she turned away from him, picking up a discarded athame that lay behind her. Probably the cause of the many slashes and---- whoa, boy!

As he stared at her flexing back where another deep wound was bleeding all over her black uniform, he watched curiously as the flesh mended itself. Not three seconds had gone by, and her back looked healed and unmarred as the day she had been born.

When she turned back to him, athame in her right hand, he noticed with awe that the cut across her chest was beginning to heal too while the limp in her stance was less and less noticeable with each passing second.

"Impressive", he breathed, wondering just what other powers she possessed that Jhiera wasn't aware of.

Phax shrugged her shoulders and winced as the motion brought the edges of her broken rib into contact with each other. Yes, her healing powers were amazing--- but they were never fast enough.

"You came all the way here just to stare at my breasts and comment on my recuperation?".

Her tone was derisive this time, and Shier realized he was slipping. He hadn't counted on her healing this fast and as the curtain of pain receded, so did his own power... unfolding another wave of pheromones into the air, he walked up to her.

She immediately took on a defensive stance, but he did not stop. Instead, he invaded her personal space as he kept on moving and she refused to step back. He towered almost a foot above her, but she was not intimidated... she returned his unyielding stare with one of her own, and Shier felt a thrill of excitement running through him.

Demons who refused to back away were scarce these days--- killed in their younger days and disposed of by their own impatient mothers, they rarely made it into their twenties, much less into the Underworld itself. But there was no fear in her darkened eyes, he noticed, and he liked it. In fact, there was nothing there--- it was hard to read the black, swirling mass of clouds inside her pupils, but her body language spoke what her eyes did not.

He didn't realize his hand had moved until her own fingers caught his wrist in a death grip. But he longed to run his fingers through those brown tresses of hers, he found himself thinking to his own surprise.

"Don't touch me".

There was real anger in her words, anger that had not been there before. But Shier was an expert in reading people, and he knew the anger in her was not directed at him--- it was anger at herself, anger that she was falling into his charms this easily. He had seen it happen countless of times before; how women struggled with their convictions, fought against their bodies' responses whenever he was near.

He entertained himself with that, liked to watch their resolve crumble--- breaking them was the most fun part of his job. And something was telling him he would enjoy breaking this little spitfire more than anyone before.

"You have blood on your lips", he whispered, and watched mesmerized as her nimble little tongue drew a crescent moon across her mouth, cleaning the last traces of the crimson liquid away. And leaving her luscious lips glistening in the process.

"Here. Let me".

He knew there wasn't any blood left, and he knew *she* knew, but he didn't care. He bent his neck instead and brushed their lips together. The electric current that flowed from her and through him was unexpected and before he knew it, he was crushing her to him like there was no tomorrow, the feel of her supple body pressed against his own sending his libido into overdrive.

He had a meager second to process the whirlpool of emotions that sizzled through him like a hurricane, before a sharp, churning pain exploded in his right shoulder and as he reluctantly pulled away from her, he realized he had pushed her against the wall.

He stumbled back a few feet, his shoulder stinging. He wasn't surprised to find the athame she had been holding until then firmly lodged in his collarbone, hardly any blood coming out. He *was* surprised at his own boldness, at the sheer lack of control he had experienced in the few seconds they had joined lips--- that had never happened before. And it was unsettling.

"I said, don't touch me".

Before he could actually gather his wits and catch his breath, she had shimmered away. But she didn't get very far, her body exhausted and drained of its energy. Shier heard her curse just from outside the training chambers, and smiled devilishly: he had seen her eyes just before she disappeared, and they had been wide and stunned--- there was no mistaking the flushing of her cheeks and the dilated pupils of her black eyes. She had felt it too, then.

With a grunt, he ripped the knife out of his skin. It came out with a squishing noise, and had he been paying attention, he would've seen the green tinge of magic around the blade. But he didn't, and it disappeared quickly, never to be seen again.

Instead, he held the athame in his hands, deciding on his next move.

When another unladylike curse echoed around him, followed by a loud thump and the unmistakable stench of burnt flesh floated towards him, he shrugged (wincing as his shoulder stung) and made his way outside.

Into more reluctant beds he had stolen, after all.

Stepping outside, he took in Phax's delicious figure leaning against the rocky wall, panting for breath; a charred stain in front of her, the last remnants of some low-life demon who had chosen a bad time to cross paths with her.

"Need a lift?", he asked as nonchalantly as possible, offering the athame back to her. Her black eyes shot venom at him, but he simply flashed her an open, inviting smile. "Hey, I'm being nice here!".

Phax did not look away from his eyes as she took the blade from his hand. With a flick of her wrist it was strapped back on her hip, and she rose from the wall like a panther stretching. Her ebony eyes narrowed into slits, and Shier felt a cold hand of fear squeezing the bottom of his spine as she moved closer to him.

There was power in knowledge, and he only knew what Jhiera had told him--- it was unsettling to be in her presence and not be sure of what she would do next. When she was close enough for him to notice the blood drying on her left cheek, she stopped, craning her neck and never once breaking eye contact.

"Fuck off".

Whispered through clenched teeth, the two words were like a slap to his wounded male pride and ignited a fire within him that threatened to consume him whole. As she turned on her heels and strode away from him, his fingers curled into fists against his powerful thighs, and Shier felt his control slipping.

He didn't realize what he was doing until he reappeared in front of her, right in her way, so fast she never had time to react: she ran into him, and the shriek that erupted from her lips was muffled by his chest.

Shier felt her body stiffening, felt it tightening muscles to push him away: his hands were quick and with a bare flick of his wrists, he had her back to his chest. In such close contact, he released a new wave of pheromones into the air: he had never done it before. By the time he was this close to women they were already in his grasp, and it took Phax exactly three heartbeats to release the pent-up tension in her muscles and relax against his embrace.

She moaned deep in her throat as the chemicals worked their magic, and Shier grinned as he felt her pressing back against him.

Now this was much better...

"I think I'll do *you* then, Phax", he whispered into her ear, recalling her last words to him. He wasn't sure whether she nodded in acceptance or if she was offering him her neck, but quite frankly, he didn't care.

He trailed a line of kisses through the soft path of her jugular vein, feeling the blood pulsing just an inch away from his pointed canines. Relying on the effect of his pheromones, he released her hands and took his own on an exploratory path across her waist and into the material of her shirt.

Her fingers entwined themselves into his thick mane of hair, pushing his mouth against hers as she slowly began twisting in his hold:

"Don't", he muttered into her lips, and she complied.

As they kissed, Shier massaged knots of cramped muscles away and little by little, gained control over Phax: but not enough, it seemed. When his hand hovered right above her left breast, Phax seemed to take in a particularly sharp breath and Shier noticed the sudden flutter of her eyelids as she fought through the drug-induced haze of his effect on her: "I should kill you for this", she managed to say in between clenched teeth as exquisite sensations radiated from where his fingers traced patterns against her skin.

She meant it, she really did, but the woman that was Phax liked his ministrations too much, and soon, that one spark of rebellion was swallowed by yet another wave of his pheromones and his pleasant touch against her sensitive breasts.

"You should. But will you?", he teased her, scalding breath against her neck, impossibly cold fingers against the exposed flesh of her belly. How he loved to taunt women... they said the most amazing things in the throes of ecstasy, he mused, and noticed for the first time that he wasn't as nonplused as he would've liked to pretend by this whole affair of theirs.

The result of her rubbing against him was evident, and the cattish smile that danced on Phax's lips was proof enough that she wasn't as far-gone as he would've liked her to be, given the circumstances.

There was a small span of silence between them in which she considered his question--- and she settled for placing her own hand over his, drawing it deeper into the curve of her waist.

"Maybe later", she said, turning completely and crushing their lips together in the most scorching kiss he had ever received. As they parted for air, Shier rested is forehead against hers, trying to calm his straying thoughts. "We both seem to be liking this too much", she added in between heaves, and she was rewarded with a throaty chuckle that sent delicious ripples of pleasure down her spine.

She had forgotten what great lovers experienced demons could be...

Too caught up in their own passion, they never saw the shadow cast into the corner of the room, where a fuming she-demon stood.

They were long gone, shimmered away into Phax's quarters by the time Jhiera stepped out of the shadows, her purple eyes gleaming with fury.


*******************


"Can you run that by me again?", asked Cole, as he sat on the couch clutching an injured hand in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. Across the living room, Piper took a deep breath, trying to calm her quickening heart.

"We found you in the kitchen. You were unconscious. I don't know how you sliced your hand. Our dinner burned. I don't know where Paige is. That about sums it up".

She knew she was being snappy, but quite honestly, she didn't care: they had just found a fainted Cole in the kitchen, drawn there by the smell of burning food; Paige was still missing and blocking out any and all attempts on Leo's part to find her and Cole had a weird-looking slice in the palm of his left hand.

And Leo couldn't heal it, but that didn't bug her as much as the fact that with a cut *that* ugly, there should've been a lot more blood pooled on the kitchen floor than the few droplets they found when they ran into the room.

Cole winced when he squeezed his hand a tad to hard, and watched in silence for a few moments as Prue sat on Leo's lap, seemingly very interested in what was going on around her.

"I never saw who did it. I think I remember purple eyes, but that's not much to go on", he finished up saying, shrugging his shoulders in helplessness. The last signs of a headache were still pumping inside his skull, and it was as if a train was running around in circles inside his head just for fun.

He tried to stand up, but the world swayed around him and he fell back onto the cushions with a grunt. Piper was by him in an instant, pushing his struggling form back. "Don't. You lost a lot of blood, and even demon stamina can't make up for that".

He eyed her with steel eyes, but bit back the caustic remark that dangled from the tip of his tongue. She was right. No need to exert himself... but still, something was bugging him. Something he ought to remember, but that right now eluded him like a stray leaf in the wind.

"Are you feeling better?", asked Leo, bobbing Prue up and down and making her cry out in delight. Cole watched the small baby for a while before answering, reminiscing on the way she reminded him of Phoebe... they had the same laugh. The same dimples appeared on their cheeks when they drew their lips into a giggle. Not so long ago, it had been painful to watch. Now, it was also a reason to keep living.

"Yeah. I just need to get my bearings back together".

Prue seemed to be listening to his words as she attempted to crawl off of Leo, and Cole offered her his healthy hand to help her bridge the distance in between the chair where Leo sat and the coffee table, a place where Prue attached herself to for the space of a few seconds before falling flat on her bottom.

A ghost of a smile graced Cole's lips as he watched his daughter's attempts at standing up straight. "Did you try Paige's cell phone?", he asked to no one in particular, not looking away from Prue.

It was Piper who answered him, standing by the phone in the hall: "Five times. She turned it off".

He was worried about her. Paige had left in such a hurry, after talking with him back in the bedroom corridor-- he was still puzzling over what had went wrong in that particular chat of theirs, and was still drawing a blank.

And he hated not knowing where she was. He had obviously been attacked by someone who did not want him dead (or otherwise he wouldn't be here right now), but hated him enough to inflict upon him a painful wound and extract a good amount of his blood. And he knew what that blood was *for*...

"Damn it", he muttered, trying to keep Prue's young ears unaware of his cursing, but still feeling the need to vent. Why had he been so careless? To try and do a complete swab of the house with no one to watch his back-- that was a fledgling's mistake. He was a one hundred and seventeen years old demon, for God's sake! He should've known better than to let his guard down like he had!

Something prickled in the back of his mind, but it was gone before he could grasp its full meaning. Something concerning the mind scan he had done of the house...

"Maybe we should check the Book of Shadows", offered Piper, fidgeting with her feet as she leaned by the door, watching her family. She was also going nuts with this situation: Paige had been gone for a good five hours now, and even if Leo assured her she was fine, this Cole ordeal had her on her toes.

Besides, if what she and Cole had talked about before was true, Paige was going through something---

Some demon (or worse) had crawled into their house, hit Cole over the head with one of her most precious cooking pans and then proceeded to do some weird mojo on him in their *own* kitchen! The nerve! She had smelt the sage from afar, and the telltale fumes where all over the room--- and the worst thing was, they didn't even have a clue as to who it could be!

"And look for what? Purple-eyed somethings? That should narrow it down to, oh, every page!".

Cole's hands flew in the air in frustration, and he flinched in pain as his left palm protested against the sudden move. Grunting under his breath, he brought them down slowly, but Piper noticed the red stain spreading over the gauze before he could tuck his hand away inside his jacket.

"But we have to do something!", said Leo, as he paced up and down the living room, brushing a hand through his cropped short hair. Piper said nothing, and opened the first aid kit with one hand while motioning for Cole to give her his hand with the other.

For a split second it was like Cole wasn't going to do it, but Piper shot him one stern glare and the tall half-demon relented hesitantly. She sat beside him, and proceeded to change the bandages, wincing as she laid eyes on the nasty looking wound one more time.

"Waiting for Paige to get here seems the only choice", she said in a low voice, her dark hair curtaining her features as she bent a little to adjust the white gossamer over Cole's hand.

As she spoke, a cold hand of fear settled itself in the base of her spine, and she shivered unconsciously. Cole caught up rather quickly, ever perceptive when the Halliwell's were concerned.

"What is it?", he asked her, tilting up her chin with his free hand. Piper cast a glance at Leo, who was watching them with a strange look on his face--- she softly pushed Cole's hand away and brushed her exposed arms as if chasing the cold away.

"I just feel strange. Like someone had walked over my grave".

The words were already out of her mouth before she realized the gloomy disposition, and trying to make up for it, she flashed her husband a bright smile. "But I'm sure it's nothing".

Of all the times for Piper to dismiss a precognitive feeling... this was the worst.


*************************


Belthazor had been an unusually easy catch. When she had first shimmered into the Halliwell house, she had fully expected him to fight back--- hell, she had been there when he had fought the Horde of the Four all by himself, had seen the way his lips had curled in the most sadistic of grins at the sight of blood and flesh, had seen him make his way through odds that were impossible by sheer strength---

She had been prepared for an epic battle, and in the end, she only had to club him in the head!

Was this what one of the most powerful demons of all time had become? A quiet, whimpering mockery of what he had once been, pampered and useless?

It was utterly disappointing.

But she had gotten what she had gone up there to get, and that was what mattered, right?

Why did she feel--- wronged, then?

The demon in her was expecting a fight, had tasted the thrill of the battle. Belthazor's strength and power was legendary in the Underworld, and Jhiera wanted to see him in action. And she had to go home empty handed.

Talk about disappointments.

She had arrived just in the nick of time. With the spell she had cast (the favor the Dark Priestess owed her was paid) working underneath the hum of magic the Halliwells possessed, passing off as static, and only if you were listening very hard, she was pulling the strings of the otherwise almighty family. And having the time of her life in doing so.

She had been watching them for quite some time now... ever since Phax had first been appointed into her care, she had taken trips to the Surface to spy on them. She had even followed Belthazor once, on a walk through the park. Conjuring up glamour on herself had been easy, and the dog had only added to the picture perfect image of a young business woman taking her pet out for a stroll.

She had laid eyes on the baby, the rumored baby that had started all of this: she hadn't seemed like much, all chubby and gurgly and almost--- pudgy. She had left before Belthazor had shaken off the stupor of shaking hands with her, a soft smile tracing her lips.

That was why she had asked Litonia to cast the spell in the first place: things were dull, she was bored and hey, if she could both get some entertainment *and* mess with the Halliwell's heads at the same time, she was in!

Although she had never shown any interest in the Charmed Ones, after Phax she couldn't help but be drawn to this family of witches that seemed to make such good demons.

She hadn't gotten to see much: as she arrived into the kitchen, she had spotted Belthazor just standing there by the sink, eyes closed, head back almost as if--- sniffing. And she realized in a heartbeat what he was doing: he was tracing her spell, trying to find the source of it.

And she couldn't well let *that* happen, now could she? So, she hit him over the head with a pan (quite un-glamorous, but still, it served the purpose). And there she was, standing over a fallen warrior: what a perfect chance to terminate him, get in the Source's good graces and win a priceless reputation all in one swift blow of her hand.

But she hadn't done it. What would be the fun in that? Instead, she had quickly knelt by the tall half-demon, taking just a second to admire his features and realize that the gossip really *didn't* do him much justice, and taking her athame from it's place on her hip, slashed his hand.

He grunted in pain, but had not woken up.

And now she had what she wanted, she mused, twirling the small vial of blood in her fingers. The crimson liquid swirled inside almost like it had a mind of its own, and Jhiera could feel the pull of power within it. Belthazor's blood got her a step closer to fulfilling her plan, and in the end, that would make all the disappointments worth it.

Now, if only Shier could do what she had told him to.

The thought of that demon sent an unsought pang of anger through her. She had been there when the witch had all but wrapped herself around him, and it wasn't supposed to bother her this much--- after all, if it hadn't been for her, the witch and Shier would've never crossed paths in the first place!

She had all but pushed him into Phax's bed, and that was what she wanted, right? Then why in the hell did she feel like strangling the little bitch with her bare hands for touching her man?

She only realized the possessive pronoun when it had already left her lips.

Her man--- Shier had never been her man. She might've been his woman back on the old days, but never once had she dared to think of him as her anything. Sure, right now he was her toy, her means to an end... but nothing more! Surely she could control herself whenever he was concerned!

A sudden flash of them together speared her mind's eye and her hands became fists, her long fingernails drawing perfect crescent moons in her palms.

He didn't have to look *that* happy to be with her, did he?

She grunted out loud, needing to vent some of her frustration. Setting the small vial of blood inside her clothing, lest she destroy it in her rampage, she strode away from her room, looking for something to vent her frustrations upon.

Hopefully, that something would scream loud enough to shun the treacherous whispers of her heart.


********************


"Okay, I'm calling the police".

Piper was halfway towards the phone when Cole's hand grabbed her shoulder and spun her around.

"And you're telling them *what*, exactly? That a witch has gone missing? Darryl already knows, what else can they do?".

Piper stomped her foot into the floor and waved her hands about: "I *know* that, okay? But she's been gone for far too long and I don't know what else to do!". Luckily, she had learned to control her exploding power a long time ago, lest the Halliwell household be deprived of *more* of its furniture.

Needing something to occupy herself with, Piper picked Prue up from her spot on the floor and began pacing up and down the lobby, trying to convince herself that Paige was okay. The baby seemed very happy at this new turn of events, and giggled as Piper bounced her a little in her stride.

"Piper", Cole began, but stopped when the young woman froze him on his spot with just one look. In her eyes there was the uttermost terror that something had gone wrong--- Cole knew it, because he knew Piper's eyes were mirroring his own.

Paige knew better than to keep them uninformed like this... either she had lost her cell signal (which meant she was out of reach, which was not good), or that she didn't have her cell phone at all (which was worse, because Piper had checked (three times) and it wasn't in her room or anywhere else in the house for that matter).

Cole turned to Leo and made 'come on' motions with his hands as Piper's back was turned. When all else fails, turn to the husband...

"Honey, Cole's right. Paige is a grown woman". As Leo walked up to the nervous witch and tried to hug her, offering the comfort she so needed, Piper brushed him off and shook her head. "No, Leo, something's wrong, I just know it".

Prue was happily sucking on one of Piper's locks of hair and she imitated Piper's frown rather well. She seemed to sense the uneasiness in the house and had been an unusually good girl for the past few hours: remaining just where they left her (that meant no shimmering away) and she didn't even protest when she was torn away from her plush animals and taken into the self-proclaimed headquarters for everything demonic in the manor: the attic.

"I would've sensed if something bad happened to her. I'm connected to all of you, remember?", tried Leo, but reminding Piper of things she already knew was not the way to go. She was restless; hyper, if you'd like--- and her gut was telling her something was terribly wrong with Paige.

"You've been cut off before, Leo. It's not making me feel any better", she all but snapped at him, her chocolate eyes flashing with anxiety. And Leo *had* been stopped from feeling them all before, and that usually meant Danger with a capital D.

"Besides, it's been *hours* since she left. It's dark and late and dangerous and oh my God, what if the Source has her? What if he's torturing her while we're standing here doing nothing? I can't loose her, Leo, I just CAN'T!".

The last word came almost as a wail and she buried her head in her husband's chest, letting him embrace her. Prue squirmed in Piper's hold, and Cole took her from Piper's trembling arms. When Prue was removed, Piper encircled Leo's waist with her arms, and sobbed quietly into his shirt, while Leo caressed her long hair, whispering soothing words in her ear.

"Piper, you won't. We won't let it happen", he said, hugging her tight to him. "Not again", he added as an afterthought, noticing the shadow that had settled upon Cole's face at his words.

"Bubu? Paip-paip bubu?", cooed Prue, watching Piper and Leo with curious eyes. 'Paip-paip' was her nickname for Piper, brought upon the small child by the constant pleas of 'come on, honey, just say Piper. Can you say Piper? Piiiiiper?'.

Cole kissed her small cheek feeling his heart surge with love he had felt only once before. "Yes baby, Piper's hurting. But we'll make it better, won't we?", he told his daughter, flicking the tip of her nose with his fingers. Prue smiled at him, and clapped her hands together.

"Yay!", she gurgled, reciprocating Cole's gesture and placing a wet, sloppy kiss on the tip of his nose. Cole laughed, and his deep voice mingled with Piper's faint giggle as she looked at father and daughter from the safe cocoon of Leo's arms.

That was when the door downstairs opened and a very familiar voice called out: "I'm home!".

Piper squealed as Paige strode into the house, and ignoring Cole's and Leo's looks of 'I told you so', all but flew down the flight of stairs, brushing the last remnants of tears away from her eyes.

"Oooooh, you're in so much trouble right now, missy! How dare you keep us wondering for so long!".

Cole and Leo strode down the stairs at a much more leisurely pace, a small compromising smile passing between them. They heard Paige's mumbled apology, and by the time they got downstairs, Paige was still suffering the consequences of Mother Hen Piper and her hugs.

"'I'm sorry' isn't getting me out of this one, is it?", she asked the two men with a smirk gracing her ruby red lips. As Leo walked by Cole and tried to frown upon the youngest Halliwell and failed miserably at it, Piper stepped back from the hug but did not release her: "Oh no, a thousand 'I'm sorry's wouldn't do it! This is major groveling time for you, missy-Paige!".

Cole noticed Paige looking at him funny, and tried to smile reassuringly at her. So, that little blow-up of hers was still haunting them? They were going to have to work through that as soon as they could, he thought, but right now, Piper needed to be reassured than her sister was just fine and not lying in a ditch somewhere.

He chastised himself for such grim thoughts, and instead changed Prue from arm to arm. His quick eyes did not miss the sudden raising of eyebrows from Paige's part as her blue-green eyes followed the baby. Being the one holding her, he missed the fact that Prue's eyes were just as well focused on the young woman, never once wavering from the fair skinned witch.

"I really *am* sorry you guys", said Paige, sticking her tongue out as Piper pulled her black bangs in a silent (but albeit a little painful) reprimand. "I met this wonderful guy while I was downtown, and we got talking and next thing I know it's already eleven. Then I got stuck in the worst traffic jam you could imagine", she continued, and pulled her small cell phone from her purse. "Stupid thing ran out of battery", she finished, waving it around for all to see.

Piper nodded a few times, her hand draped across Paige's shoulder all along. "I was worried about you, sis", she said, her voice quivering as tears (of happiness this time) welled up in her eyes. Before she could let them out freely, though, Leo placed a hand on Paige's shoulder, his own relief shinning clearly through his stance.

"You really had us freaking out for a while".

Cole saw Paige wince at his words, and decided she had had enough: "Come on, the important thing is that she's okay. Just don't scare us like that again, okay?", he ended, looking directly at Paige. That was why he saw the flash of uncertainty flying across her eyes, but it was gone so quick he thought he had imagined it. Besides, Paige's gaze once again landed on Prue, questioning and curious.

"Sure", she said, a frown clouding her beautiful features.

It was then that Piper noticed for the first time that Paige would not look away from Prue. "What is it, honey?", she asked her, casting glances back and forth between the youngest additions to her family.

Paige said nothing for a few seconds, and instead approached Cole and Prue with slow, measured steps. Stopping a few feet away from them, she craned her head to the side and squinted her eyes a little, as if looking for something.

"Paige?", asked Leo, feeling the beginnings of an itch spread through his mind, the first indications that something was not quite right.

Paige shook her head. "It can't be", she muttered almost to herself. When Cole raised a hand to place on her shoulder and steady her, as she appeared about to faint, Paige jumped back a few feet.

"Don't touch me".

Those words were the exact ones she had spoken to him just this morning in the corridor, and Cole felt a stab of pain in his heart as Paige rejected his touch for the second time in the day.

"Paige?".

Piper's voice was lower this time, the worry creeping back into her skin and making her approach the younger woman and leave Leo's comforting embrace.

"She--- I--- Prue?", whispered Paige, her eyes flying wide open and taking another step back. Piper mistook her reaction for--- well, she couldn't say for *what* exactly, but whatever it was, it wasn't the right thing.

"Of course that's Prue, silly. You saw her just this morning! Why did you look like you've seen a ghost?".

Paige averted her gaze from Prue and Cole, and settled it on Piper. Unbelieving, her finger pointed at the father and daughter, her mouth opening and closing several times. Piper moved closer to her, trying to calm her from whatever it was that was wreaking havoc on the young woman's mind.

But Paige slapped her hands away, and instead, a strange grin curled her lips.

"Well I'll be damned", she mumbled, and as she moved back into the light of the foyer, Cole noticed for the first time a hand print of silver adorning her shoulder. His quick mind replayed a similar scene, when *he* had first shook hands with Leo... That meant---

"Piper, look out!".

His warning came a second too late, because Paige was already raising her hand and throwing a fireball at Piper. Being at pointblank range, Piper could only stare at the flames emerging from Paige's fingers that threw her hard against the farthest wall.

As she slid down, unconscious, she never saw how Paige's form shifted and changed, turning into that of a very familiar sister.

"Hello, family. Miss me?", said Phax, grinning like a Cheshire cat who had just walked her way into the henhouse.

Which in a way, was exactly what had just happened.



************


TBC...