Love's Intervention
Chapter Sixteen: Night Life

The music was pumping, the dance floor was thudding, and Phoebe had not felt anything like was she was feeling in a long time.

She was curled up on Cole's lap in the private booth of P3, a strawberry daiquiri not far away. Prue and Piper were also there, and they all were having an uproarious time as those around them danced the night away. The curtains were also drawn to give them some privacy. After that Banner-Herald article, everybody else had immediately taken notice to Cole and Phoebe. It probably wasn't a good idea for them to be out in a club right after such an article, but she knew that Piper could do with the publicity. According to her memory, P3 was supposed to be in a sort of slump right about now, and it wouldn't hurt to help the business a bit.

"I seriously can't believe the Banner-Herald called me a 'juvenile school girl'," Phoebe pretended to pout as she reached for her daiquiri.

Cole smiled and squeezed her hand even as Prue chuckled. "Well, you are in college," she pointed out. "And there's a good age difference between you guys. What is it…seven years? That ought to raise some eyebrows."

Phoebe suddenly choked on her drink, making Cole pound lightly on her back. He didn't have to worry, however, because she broke out into laughter, causing the other two sisters and Cole to exchange slightly bewildered looks. Phoebe calmed herself down and leaned her head back onto his chest. "Oh, Cole," she sighed contentedly, closing her eyes.

"Hey, you tired?" Cole asked her, lowered his head so that it was close to hers. "Then again, neither of us got too much sleep last night." They shared a giggle.

Piper looked on the verge of a sarcastic comment before her cell phone rang. She checked the Caller ID curiously, then stood up. "I'm taking this," she said. "I'm going into the office, it's too noisy out here." The rest of the group nodded as she left the booth.

Phoebe let out another happy sigh, her wide eyes looking around the booth. Could life not be any better than this? No ethereal responsibilities, Prue, Cole…

She should get back. Back to her own world. She had to get back. Paige and Piper were counting on her.

Phoebe tried not to let that comment invade her thoughts. She would go back, but she didn't know how. It wasn't from lack of trying. It just simply wasn't possible. Besides, Paige and Piper didn't need her that much. They were the ones with the super powers, and if they were in any real danger, she could always count on Piper and Leo's son. Leo, she thought suddenly with a pang of guilt.

"What you thinking of?" Cole said softly, his head still close to hers.

Phoebe turned her head slightly so that her face was facing his. "You," she answered. And it was true. At that moment, she was admiring his facial features, delighting as his hands massaged her sides, looking deeply into his eyes.

"Good," he said back, "because I'm thinking of you." They kissed. Phoebe felt rather than saw Prue good-naturedly rolling her eyes.

When they parted, Phoebe turned toward her eldest sister. "You," she grinned, "I saw you cutting eyes at that guy right before you came into the booth. Wanna go find him?"

Prue harrumphed and flipped her hair. "I'll take the hint. I know I'm not wanted here." She winked at them. She got ready to leave when Piper suddenly burst back into the booth, clearly upset.

Phoebe sat up, exchanged a glance with Prue, then looked back at Piper. "Honey, what's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing," she said acidly. "Absolutely positively nothing. Or so that's what my dear husband says."

At this, the other two sisters stood up and hurried to each side of Piper, who looked torn between blowing steam out of her ears and crying until she had no energy to shed a tear. They directed her toward the cushiony couch as she seemed to pick the latter course of action. "He's going to Michigan tomorrow," she said tearily, "And all he could do is tell his own wife the night beforehand. And on the phone, too! Didn't even have the decency to tell me to my own face…" she trailed off as she began to cry.

"What's he going to Michigan for?" Phoebe asked cautiously.

"For boxing!" Piper yelled, the tears still streaming down her cheeks. "I haven't seen him much for weeks on end…and now he's leaving for another four days to watch stupid, stupid boxing." She accepted the tissue Prue handed to her and blew into it. "I don't care that his friends go the tickets for him, all he could've done was tell me and I wouldn't be crying now. Annoyed, yes," she sniffled, "but I wouldn't feel like such crap now. Like I'm last on the list of things he thinks about."

"Oh, Piper…" Prue said, and hugged her. Phoebe hugged her as well. "You're the very first thing on the list of things I think about. That and what I'm gonna eat for breakfast."

"Yeah," Phoebe chimed in, "I think about you almost as much as I think about the weather."

Her sisters' words caused Piper to smile a bit and wipe the tears from her eyes. "I'm just being stupid, aren't I?" she said.

"No, you aren't," Phoebe said firmly. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to feel loved. To feel that everything that was once perfect…"

"Is slipping away," Piper finished quietly. They were quiet for a second, then all inexplicitly turned to Cole, who was gazing intently at Phoebe.

Prue stood up. "Come on, sweetie, we're going to clean you up. Come on," she helped her sister get up. "We're going to the bathroom." Cole and Phoebe, now at opposite ends of the booth, watched them go.

Phoebe stood up and walked back to him, intending to sit beside him, but he would have none of that. Instead, he pulled her back into his lap. They sat entwined together for a while, Phoebe's eyes wide open even as Cole slightly drifted off. If she had been looking for guilt, then Piper had provided it. And I haven't even so much as checked up on poor Leo, she thought shamefully.

Yet again, Phoebe wouldn't let her thoughts get the best of her. For now, she was going to have a good time, at least. She perked up when she heard the next song that was playing, and shook Cole slightly. "Come on," she said to Cole. "I haven't heard this song in ages. Let's go."

Cole shook his head, a bit groggily yet resolutely. "I'm a terrible dancer."

"I know for a fact you're not. Come on, we're in a club so we've got to dance. And clubs usually don't play slow songs." She stood up and tugged him up as well.

"But the photographers?" Cole asked, playing his last cards.

"Screw them. I like this song. And I want to dance with you. Please?" she added, knowing he wouldn't be able to resist.

Cole sighed. "OK." Phoebe smiled and reached up to give him a peck on the lips when Cole grabbed her body against his and transformed the chaste kiss into a passionate one, knowing that she wouldn't be able to resist.

And so she couldn't. She was already on her back and half his buttons were undone before she could break away long enough to talk. "Piper," she breathed, "will kill us—" her breath quickened as his hand reached under her dress "—if we do it here. Cole…" she could barely get her words out, but managed to stop his hand before she completely lost her cool.

"No," Phoebe said more firmly as she pushed him back. She frowned. "Thanks to you, the song's almost over," she complained.

"Well, that's a pity," Cole said, the glint still in his eyes as he tried to reach for her again.

"Cole!" she spun out of his hold. "Don't. I feel guilty enough as it is." The words slipped out before she had a chance to control them.

He inched forward and wrapped his arms around her, a more comforting gesture than a sexual one. "Why?" he asked her.

"Because, you know, Piper is having enough trouble with L—" Phoebe checked herself before he could notice "Dan, as it is. I feel like I'm throwing salt into the wound by…" she couldn't say it.

"By what? Being with me? Enjoying yourself?" Cole said, smoothing her hair. "You shouldn't worry about that. Piper's your sister. She likes watching you be happy."

"Be happy…" Phoebe echoed.

"Yes. Happy." He turned her slightly and brushed his lips against hers, then stood up. "You said you wanted to dance?"

Phoebe managed to give an amused smile. "In case you haven't noticed, they're playing hard rock now."

"Should that stop us?" He took her hand has she stood up, then gathered her in his arms as they swayed slowly together to the sound of their own music.

A nondescript man was standing in the shadows of a dark alleyway, glancing about him. If he was seen in a more lighted area, the light would show a man with rounded shoulders and a plain face, and fat hands that looked clumsy attached to its owner. Still, he was standing up straight, in a pitch black suit that matched the alley he was standing in. No one was to be seen.

His posture relaxed slightly, as though he was waiting for someone. Unbeknownst to him, a form in the dark was slowly creeping up on him, a jagged knife held in its hand. The form advanced toward the man's back, slowly, without making a single sound. The figure was ten yards away…five yards away…one yard away…

Suddenly, the tall man spun around and grabbed the figure by the neck and by the hand that was holding the knife at the same time. In less than a second, the knife held by the figure in the shadows was now being pointed directly at the figure's face. "Well, well," the man hissed, not looking so nondescript anymore. His face was animated with hatred, and his eyes almost seemed to glow red if looked at from a certain angle. "Who are you?" the man demanded. "Speak, or I will not hesitant to choke you to death."

The figure tried to gasp out an answer. "I'm sorry, sir," the figure finally gasped out. "I thought you were someone…else…"

The man sneered. "Really, now?" His hand squeezed tighter on the figure's neck, causing the figure to gasp for more air. "Well, I'm sorry too." The man plunged the knife straight into the figure's abdomen, causing the blood the overflow onto the man's hands and causing the figure to let out a final raspy, desperate scream. When the man was sure that the figure was dead, he released his hold on the figure's neck. The figure slumped to the ground.

"Iosld!" A new voice called, dark and menacing. "What have you been doing?"

The round-shouldered man spun around at the voice. "Nothing, Drashan," he said. "Just killed a human, that is all."

"You should not have done that," answered Drashan gravely. The voice stepped out of the shadows and flicked a light at the body on the ground. The light showed an extremely unkempt skinny teenager. "Here, we do not have the benefits that we take for granted."

"What is that?" asked Iosld, pointing at the source of the light.

"This is what humans call a flashlight. Since we cannot see in the dark in these human bodies, this will help. And it lasts longer than candles." The flashlight illuminated Drashan's features, showing a man about five inches taller than Iosld who carried himself in a terrifyingly intimidating manner. "Have you seen the others?"

"We are here," answered a feminine voice.

The two men turned around toward its direction, and Drashan shined the flashlight. In its beam, a woman and another man were clearly seen, walking purposely toward Iosld and Drashan.

"Raisa. Menall," greeted Drashan suspiciously.

The female, with eyes that looked almost unnaturally like a cat's, stepped forward. "We were exploring," she said solemnly in a cold yet fluid voice, "the possibilities of this new…world. Something that would be to our advantage if we did more of it during the last couple of days."

Drashan raised his eyebrows in a most sinister manner. "Are you questioning my authority, Raisa?"

She lowered her head. "Never, Drashan. I am merely suggesting a way. Many demons have perished before us in order to get to the—"

"You think I don't know that, Raisa? Do you not know that all of the Underworld knows? There is a reason why the four of us…together…were sent. One cannot do it alone."

"No, Drashan."

Drashan was not fooled. He knew that he was in a precarious situation as far as his control and his life was concerned. Back in the magical world, he was the naturally chosen leader because of his superior powers and his tactical skills. Now, however, ever since they had been somehow transported to this new world, his position was fair game, especially for Raisa, whose cunning and physical strength closely matched his own.

They had spent the first two days as much confusion as high level demons could manage. The four had set out to shimmer from the Underworld to the surface at the same time, when some ripple in the universe itself knocked them off their feet and in all different directions. Drashan, for one, woke up to find himself as one of the top members of the Russian Mafia on a mission in Chicago. Mendall ended up in a small town in Thailand, involved in a giant international prostitution ring. Iosld became a serial killer, wanted in eight states across the Northeast of the United States. And Raisa turned out to be the wife of the CEO of one of the largest companies in the world.

As soon as each of them had figured out their circumstances, they lost no time in preparing to travel to San Francisco. From there, they frequented the shady spots of the city until they found each other. They each had a human form and so reverted to it in this non-demon world. They had spent the rest of their time altering their plans and finding other modes of power that they could use instead of their lost magical abilities.

"Iosld," said Drashan, turning to him. "Have you watched the Charmed Ones' doings?"

"As you know, the three in this world do not live in the same house on the Nexus, and so tracking them makes it harder. However, the three do not seem to realize their circumstances, not even the one who is supposed to be dead."

"I do not know," Mendall spoke up suddenly, "Why we cannot attack them now. As of now, they are as magically vulnerable as us, while we have the human means to kill them. If we act now, would it not be the easiest job in a demon's lifetime?"

"Fool," hissed Drashan. "We did not simply lose our powers, and neither have they. This is a subordinate world. If we inflict damage now, it would not make a difference, except cause us nuisances with the human authorities."

Raisa spoke up, as she was the only one who dared to talk back to Drashan. "Well, then, what do you suggest us to do? We cannot simply sit here for the rest of the infinity and wait for fate to intervene."

Instead of getting mad at Raisa's cheek, however, a small twisted smile formed on Drashan's face. "That, my dear," he said, "you do not need to worry about."

Raisa flushed with anger at being belittled by the pet name Drashan had given her. "Would you mind telling us what you have in mind, Drashan?" she snapped.

Drashan's smile became wider. Raisa was one of the most stunningly beautiful demons ever to grace the Underworld, and her anger had only caused his lust for her to amplify. Still, he knew there was much more to Raisa than a perfect body and pouty lips. There was a reason she ended up as the seemingly innocent wife of a power mogul. Most likely, if she really lived this mortal life, she would have much more power than the mogul. The thought sobered Drashan, who turned to Raisa which a solemn expression.

"Soon," he said to her, his mind already flicking back to his plan in dealing with the Charmed Ones. "Soon."