The television show "Charmed," including the characters of Piper and Phoebe Halliwell, Paige Matthews, Leo Wyatt, Darryl Morris, and Cole Turner, is copyrighted by Spelling Television, Inc., a subsidiary of Spelling Entertainment Group, Inc.

"You mean, for a family? Other than demons?"

She laughed in his face and he reacted as if she'd kicked him again. His head jerked back, he staggered physically, his eyes glowed red. He grabbed the chair he'd been sitting in and slammed it against the wall using his muscles, not his powers.

Then he calmed himself, his eyes returned to normal, he smiled and shrugged. "The soul of a Charmed One. I had to try."

He headed for the place where Cole and Clara had disappeared.

"Clara!" Phoebe shouted at the ceiling. "Get the potion ready!"

He missed a step. "Nice bluff."

"We sent her on alone, you know. She's got the potion. She can kill you, and there's no one else there who will kill her for you."

He stopped dead, swiveled his head slowly, and gave her an evil smile. "I think there is," he said, and began to shimmer as Piper and Paige orbed into the room.

"Stop him!" Phoebe yelled. Piper raised her hands and Paige tried a desperate tackle, but he was gone and Paige slid across the floor.

The books dropped from the wall and Phoebe's arms dropped to her sides.

"Ow," Paige said.

"Are you all right?" Piper asked.

Paige sat up with a disgusted look on her face. "Yeah. Carpet burn."

Piper turned to Phoebe. "Are you all right?"

"No. I mean, yes, but no. I'm so afraid, Piper. He offered me a deal."

"But of course you said no," Piper said off-handedly, giving no sign of the sick jerk in her stomach.

"Of course I said no, but he's good, you guys, he's really good. He hit all the right notes. I could practically taste what he was offering. I said no because – well, because my soul's in pretty good shape, and I have my sisters, and I can think of a better afterlife than one in Hell. But he's tracking Cole's shimmer now, and Cole –"

" – has a mangled soul, no support system, and no hope of Heaven," Piper said in a dead tone.

Phoebe dropped onto the sofa and put her head in her hands. "If he talks Cole out of his human soul, there won't even be a scorch mark left where Clara was. And we have no idea where to find them. None."

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Clara leaned her elbows on the veranda railing, looking out through the forest, where sunlight was streaming with a golden slant between tree trunks and over soft moss. A twilight breeze whispered through the forest; the birds were starting to get excited about night coming on. Cole stood next to her with his arms folded, leaning back against the same railing, looking at the cabin.

After a moment he asked, "What am I listening for?"

"Listening to. The silence."

After another moment, "Would I have to do much of this?"

"I'd want you to do at least an hour a day. At least."

"I don't like it."

"People with badly damaged souls don't. Silence forces you to think, to remember. Noise helps you avoid thought." She glanced at him with academic curiosity. "I assume Hell is a noisy place."

"Damned noisy," he said, smiling at the joke.

She smiled a little too. "The good part about having powers like yours is that you wouldn't have to work to find a quiet place close to nature. You could come out here anytime and listen. Eventually, you'd start learning to be at peace with the fact of how small we all are – the purest angels, the most corrupted demons – how small we all are in the face of the one who created us all."

"Bet that's a soul you'd like to see," Cole said flippantly.

Clara indicated the clearing. "You're looking at it."

"No, Clara, you'll notice that I'm not."

"Why not? It's looking at you."

He made a slight, pained grimace.

She turned her back to the clearing, too, so that she could more easily look up at his face. "Don't you believe in forgiveness?"

"There's not enough forgiveness in the universe for the things I've done."

That took her aback for a moment; then she said, "Are you going to tell the universe how much forgiveness it has on hand?"

"Oh, I've got that inventory," said a voice behind them.

Clara spun bodily, Cole turned his head slightly. The soul collector joined them on the veranda as he said, "The universe has zero forgiveness on hand. The upside is, the universe doesn't give a damn what you do anyway."

"Anders!" Cole was grinning with a startling look of welcome. "Are you the scumbag du jour?"

"I'm afraid I am, Your Majesty."

"You're not going to try to talk me into killing Clara here, are you?"

Anders laughed. "As if I could. I've lost interest in her."

"Since when?"

"Since I saw you. If you're involved that means the Charmed Ones are involved, and I value my continued existence. Besides, I have actually important business to discuss with you, sir." Anders flipped his hand at Clara dismissively. "Go. Treat people. Have fun."

"What business?"

"Your Majesty, I talk human beings out of their souls regularly, and I always have to offer them something for it – money usually, power, sex – you know the drill. But sir, I'd like to take your soul away with me today, and I'm not going to offer you anything for it."

Cole looked amused. "Well, that's a novel approach."

"Don't listen to him, Cole. He's not your friend."

"No one is. – Why would I give up my soul, then?"

"Why wouldn't you?" Anders spread his arms, and the lantern-like object dangled from his hand. "Do you know how I see the soul, Your Majesty? As a cancerous growth. All it does is cause pain, remorse, misery. Human beings are inoperable – " he looked levelly at Clara – "if you cut the soul out of them, they cease to exist. But you, sir – you don't need it to go on."

"Leave him alone," Clara said quietly.

"The soul was useful to you once. It's not anymore. It interferes with your work, it keeps you in pain, it blocks your enjoyment. Time to have it out, sir."

"So you are offering something," Cole said. "Relief from pain."

"And fulfillment of your destiny. Yes, I suppose I am."

"Destiny? That's nonsense. He's half human. Why shouldn't he be destined to be human?" Clara turned to Cole. "You can choose what you want to be. You didn't have a choice when you were two years old. You had very little choice when you absorbed the Source's powers to save your friends. But you have a choice now. Tell him to go away."

Anders said blandly, "Clara, relax. I won't ask him to kill you."

"You tell me, Clara," Cole said. "Can you get rid of this constant misery I'm in?"

"No. Not completely. If you'll let me help, if you'll work with me, you can make it better – much better than anything Hell could offer you. Nothing good comes without a struggle."

"You've been struggling, sir. It's futile. There won't be any relief for you until you embrace your destiny."

"Why do you think he's trying to do this to you, Cole? Out of altruism? He's going to get something horrible out of this."

"Well, yes, I hope to get something out of this. I'll have universal acclaim in the demonic realm as the one who restored the Source to his rightful place." Anders was looking at Cole as he spoke. "And the more successful he is, the more powerful he makes us, the more famous I'll be. Yes, I'd like that. That's the kind of evil bastard I am."

"Power won't make up for it," Clara said to Cole. "It won't make up for a life devoted only to yourself, without connection to anything greater than yourself, without love, without warmth. You have free will. You can choose – "

"Free will is a myth perpetrated by powerless mortals to make themselves feel better. You know this inside, Your Majesty. You were a demon for a hundred years because a demon is what you are, and what you always will be."

"Leave him alone!" Clara shouted, and, unbelievably, she stepped between the two men, facing Anders as though she would protect Cole from the demon.

"Clara," Cole said in a tone of amused rebuke.

She glanced over her shoulder at him. "No! It's like watching someone taunt a quadriplegic!" She squared off with Anders again. "Go back to Hell, demon. Leave him alone."

Anders' head tipped back and his eyes narrowed, but his voice was controlled, the sound of a CEO fed up with a junior executive. "Historically, Clara, there have been a few humans who could say 'Go away' to one of us and make it stick. You're not one of them."

With a bang like sudden thunder, a board from the railing sprang up and struck Clara down.

"Uh, I'm the host here," Cole said.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty. I should have asked your permission. She irritated me."

"I have to admit," Cole seemed to be talking as much to himself as to Anders, "it's something of a relief."

"And if you decide you want her conscious later, she'll be awake shortly." Anders indicated the door at the other end of the cabin wall. "This pastoral retreat of yours – it wouldn't happen to have a bar, would it?"

"Anders." Cole looked reproving. "Of course it would."

Anders laughed and waved Cole ahead of him. The two of them went inside, leaving Clara lying unconscious.