The tip of the athame disappeared into a point too fine to see. And yet it was still boring a miniscule hole in the blotter as it twirled; its steel cold, unrelenting, wicked and glinting. The blade had a sheen to it but it seemed dull, but it was only when one looked closer than one saw the mass of writhing colours there. Greys and pewter and deep purples and blacks and occasionally the flash of bright slivers as it caught the light from the window. And still it twirled — faster and faster, first one way and then the other. It reached the wood of the desktop and kept making a hole, eating through the wood and leaving the smallest of holes on the surface.

The blade was cursed. And the knife looked sinister already, prepared especially for the job it had to do. The rosewood handle had been scorched by the power of the curse —– it was now ugly and darker than ebony, the inlay glinting through in vague snatches of gold, consumed by the darkness.

Gideon smiled, spinning the athame one final time before waving a hand at it. It flared red and disappeared. Everything was in place now; he just needed to set the plan in motion.

Mauve orbs devoured his black-robed form, shrieking and clamouring around him before fading through the floor.

Learning to Tango

"So what is it exactly that you're looking for?" Leo asked, peering intently and Ben's seemingly random page-flipping. He didn't really get it. It seemed to him like the witch was stabbing in the dark. But then again he was also pretty sure that the witch knew best so he was content to let Ben be with his 'research'; or whatever it was that he was doing.

The Book of Shadows was open on the parlour's coffee table and Ben was sick of looking at it. He now knew the book practically off by heart and could recite half of the entries by memory. It had been a long four months.

"Uh… Any demon that might be powerful enough to turn Wyatt, or any demon that could have enough power to organise the Underworld, or any demon that could be running a training camp for younger demons, or any demon…" Ben trailed off absently, tired of futile searching.

"So basically any demon?" Leo asked.

Ben looked up at him blearily, trying his hardest to ready some kind of sarcastic comment or even throw Leo a look, but he couldn't. He sighed and nodded, throwing himself back into the couch. "Yeah."

"Anything I can do?"

"Yeah, get out of here. We're still waiting for those darklighters to attack." Ben picked the book up and held it under one arm, ready to go back upstairs and look at the poster boards again.

"I'm not leaving."

"Leo, you have to, okay? It's too dangerous to be here right now and… And no matter what Chris says he needs a father. Got it?"

"You're here. Chris needs you as well."

Ben quirked an eyebrow at the Elder and, shifting the Book tighter under his left arm, he gestured vaguely with his right, violently combusting the centre arrangement on the dining room table to pieces with much more force that necessary. "That's the reason I get to be here."

The witch started for the stairs again and was halfway up when he realised Leo was still following him. He turned tiredly, rubbing his free hand across his eyes and trying to work out a way to get rid of the Elder that didn't involve blasting him to kingdom come.

This witch is procrastinating… He wants you to leave so he can get his shot at your son…

Leo's head whipped around, searching the parlour for the source of the voice. It was empty. Phoebe was at work and Paige was at Magic School, getting a room ready next to Bridget's for Piper. They had decided that what with the constant attacks around here neither of the pregnant women should stay at the Manor. It was too risky to think that Bridget might tap into her demonic powers or that Piper might have her best offensive power replaced by flowers or fireworks. The Eldest Charmed One was taking Wyatt as well so he would be safe and seeing as how it was impossible to die at Magic School…

"Who's there?" Leo demanded, his face angry.

There's no one here. This is just one of your greatest fears talking, isn't it? That Wyatt's going to end up evil… The voice elongated the 'E' in evil and turned it singsong, mocking Leo.

"Leo, the parlour's empty," Ben said hesitantly, looking around.

Exactly. There's no one here but you and the witch that's trying to murder your son.

"Piper?" Ben called towards the top of the stairs. The oldest Charmed One was packing her things right now, ready to be orbed over to Magic School. Maybe her presence could placate the Elder? Ben still remembered having to stop Leo from killing Chris.

And now he's after dear wife-y. You know just as well as I do that he's a threat…

"If you touch her, I will kill you," Leo snarled, looking Ben up and down.

"Leo, whatever's doing this to you is something evil. You've got to fight it."

"NO!" Leo thrust his hand forward and unleashed a torrent of lightning at Ben.

The witch yelped and threw himself to the floor and the book leapt out of his grasp and fluttered and thumped and tumbled and flapped its way onto the half landing.

The lightning burst on the wall, setting alight to the wallpaper. Smoke curled up from the peeling paper. And. Ben scrambled up again just as the stair which he had been leaning on with his left hand was obliterated with a flurry of blue-hot sparks.

"Leo, look. Uh, you don't know what you're doing right now…" Ben was babbling and he knew it. It would take him more time to get up and run than it would for Leo to run him through with a few bolts of electricity. He gulped, temporising for all he was worth. "Wyatt? Remember Wyatt? He's upstairs, he wouldn't want you to be doing this…"

Ben focused and saw a scintilliascintilla of electricity crackle through the air between Leo's finger and thumb and threw himself sideways in an extempore movement that was just enough to save his life. Flaming splinters rained around him. Leo's next shot tore the banisters from their holdings and sent them tumbling over into the entryway where they splintered as they dented the floor.

Ben rolled and flicked his wrists at Leo, blasting him into a swarm of angry orbs. The witch scrabbled for possession on the stair carpet and was on his feet just as Leo reconstituted. The Elder smirked and punched Ben across the face, leaving a searing burn and sending the witch staggering over the edge to fall onto the wreckage below.

Leo peered over the precipice at Ben. The witch was looking down at his stomach in disbelief, his bloodied hands shaking as he regarded the stake that had run through his back.

Leo smirked at what he seemed to think was a copaceticcopasetic job and orbed out.

Learning to Tango

Piper tilted her head back, singing. Steam was coiling around the bathroom with white, damp tendrils and fogging the mirror, but she had her eyes closed. Hot water cascaded across her body and she massaged her scalp, letting the last of the suds swirl down the drain.

The shower radio was on one of the corner shelves that usually held shampoo, but the bottle was on the floor next to the drain. It was actually Phoebe's – Paige had bought it so that Phoebe could listen to the radio instead of singing, which had been enough to make Paige think Phoebe was actually screeching because of a demon attack and not merely singing in the shower — but Piper had turned the seahorse-shaped, waterproof appliance onto full and was singing along to her favourite station. She bent at the waist and stopped, ending up squatting to try and get around the obstacle her stomach had become over the past months. It was almost like it had crept up on her — she hadn't gone to bed fat one night and yet in the morning… She sighed and pilled her hair on top of her head, squeezing conditioner onto it and rubbing it into her roots.

She wanted one last good shower before she moved to Magic School. She didn't know what the facilities were like there. She imagined something like a high school locker room; all concrete and mildewed. She crinkled her nose at the thought and continued rubbing in conditioner.

Learning to Tango

A large, gloomy cavern was hung with lights, electrical equipment and wires; snaking black ones that trailed all over the floor and up the walls. On the wall a large but faded banner proudly bore the slogan 'Witch Wars' in gold, the words halved by an athame pointing downwards. Through the undergrowth of electrical wires, three demons sauntered. The only female of the group waved an arm in the direction of the studio for the benefit of the tall demon next to her.

"So what do I get out of it?" The middle demon asked as they came to a halt in the middle of the broadcasting cavern. He was impressed, to be honest. But he should probably hide it. It wouldn't be right to show these demons that he thought they had done a good job. That would perhaps make them think that they were on equal terms with him in the hierarchy — and they weren't.

"Fame, glory, the respect of the entire underworld, and, of course, the powers of the witch you kill," Corr said, waving a hand and starting to walk again. He was trying not to show his desperation. He needed this demon. They needed this demon. Lowly demons were just not cutting it anymore. Too many of them were getting vanquished — his audience wanted to see victories not vanquishes. Besides, the powers sucked.

"If you win, that is," Clea added, falling behind the two men. They were so damn close to netting this upper-level demon, all they had to do was play it right and he'd be theirs.

"If I play, I'll win," the demon said confidently, adding a slight swagger to his walk.

"Oh, a demon of your considerable power, we have no doubt," Corr immediately jumped in with, and the demon smiled as his ego grew, knowing somewhere in the back of his mind that Corr was deliberately stoking it. "Just as long as it's… entertaining."

"Just out of curiosity, how did you come up with the idea, anyway?" The demon asked, folding his arms.

"Well, we can't take all the credit," Clea said, answering that question. Tag team tactics. They were that desperate. "I mean you'd think demons would've invented reality television, but somehow humans beat us to it…" She gave a small frown and then a small shrug, bringing up the rear and they all walked through into the control booth.

"Still, it's the best idea we ever stole, and demons everywhere love to watch…" Corr broke off and picked up an athame with a fine point and a piece of parchment. "So, if you're ready to play, just draw your blood and sign on the dotted line," he courteously handed the dagger to the upper-level demon handle first, waiting for it to be taken.

"Draw my blood? Why?" The demon demanded, staring Corr down and making no move to take the athame. He raised an incredulous eyebrow.

"So that your powers, should you for any reason lose, will revert to us," Corr said, talking fast and trying to gloss over the point with the ease of a door-to-door salesman leaving out the small print. It worked on all of the other demons. They hadn't even read the contract.

"My powers? You gotta be kiddin' me. There's no way I'm—-"

"I'm sorry, I thought you were planning to win?"

"And if you don't, you'll be dead, so you won't need your powers anyway," Clea added, a sickly sweet smile and a quick bat of her eyelashes thrown in the demon's direction.

"But it doesn't mean I want you to have 'em!" He shook his head disbelievingly at the two gamesmastersgames masters. "It's quite a racket you've got goin' on here. Get all these guys to sign their powers over to you and to risk their lives, all for some chance to kill some stupid witch."

The upper-level demon turned and left the control booth, still muttering and shaking his head. Corr and Clea exchanged looks and Corr put the athame and contract down quickly, scurrying after the demon that had just left.

"The witch is not the point. The point is fame. The point is—-"

"—-fortune. Yeah, I got it, and that may work on the silly morons you have playing this game so far, but it won't work on me." He gave them a cold look before shimmering out.

"Oh! If we don't get an upper-level demon to play, we will never collect the powers we need!" She stamped a heeled foot in frustration and pouted, tucking her hands into her hips. They had been so damn close it was just that the more powerful demons had so much damn sense! She stamped her foot again and growled.

"We just have to be patient. As the game gains in popularity, more and more powerful demons will want to play."

"How do you know?" She asked, her lips still turned down in the pout.

"Because if human beings are foaming at the mouth to humiliate themselves on national television —- and they are —- then demons are an easy mark," he explained, his voice dripping with menace. "It's all a matter of time…"

She extended an arm to him, letting her fingers brush across his chest. "Upper-level humans?" She asked, turning the pout onto him.

"Donald Trump has his own show," he murmured, bringing a smile to her face.

"Mmm…"

He pulled he closer, saying seductively, "Just be patient, my love, and together we'll rule the underworld."

They gave a slight chuckle and leaned in for a kiss. They got close enough for their lips to touch when they were interrupted by a disembodied voice that seemed to emanate from all around the studio.

"It's an old goal, but a good one."

They broke apart and looked around, their darting eyes finding no one. Corr powered up a fireball in his palm and raised it to shoulder height to throw it, still looking for a target.

"Disarm, and I will reveal myself." The voice commanded, and, at a slight nod from Clea, Corr crushed the fireball into a coil of dark smoke. They looked over to two black leather chairs, and in one of them Gideon appeared, ankle resting on one knee.

"What is that, an Elder?" Corr asked his associate.

Clea's eyes lit up, the lust for the kill burning behind them and her mouth twisted into a grin. "Kill him."

Another fireball flared in Corr's hand and Gideon cocked an eyebrow at him, almost willing the demon to throw the ball of fire. It wasn't as if it would kill him. It was all about greed with demons, he knew that from many years of being an Elder. If they thought that you could get their power, then they would listen.

"What I have to offer is far better than anything my death will ever bring you," the Elder said calmly, staring the demons down.

Corr licked his lips and his eyes flicked to Clea for a moment before he crushed the second fireball, curiosity overwhelming him.

Learning to Tango

"Listen to me. If I could find you through my demonic contacts, then how long do you think it'll be before The Charmed Ones find you and shut you down?" Gideon asked as Corr turned his back on him, choosing a jacket from a rail and slipping it on, trying out the fit with a quick shrug of his shoulders. He did a quick half turn to see the way it fanned as he walked.

"And you're here to warn us?" Corr slipped off the jacket and put it back onto the hanger, and then back onto the rack, flicking imaginary lint off the sleeve. He sneered. "How… noble of you."

"No, I'm here to help you," the Elder said, sounding dangerous for the first time. He gave a fake smile back at Clea as she scoffed. "What?"

"Nothing. It's just, huh. Why don't I believe that?" Corr asked, reaching in for another jacket and checking the label.

"I need the Charmed Ones distracted for a while whilst I accomplish an important mission. And I thought your game might be the perfect thing," he explained, casting an impressed eye around the studio.

All he had to do was reel them in, let them think that he was impressed with what they were doing. The only thing that was the problem was getting them to take the bait. It was a delicate matter and he knew any demons that could take orders from a power higher than themselves that they had a chance of winning against were a rara avis, ( - Huh?), but still. If he let them think he had all the cards, then they'd come running. They were demons after all.

"You want us to target The Charmed Ones?" Corr asked, as if he were speaking to a six-year-old. He cocked an eyebrow at Gideon, and the Elder felt them move further from his grasp. He sighed, trying to reach out again.

"No, I want you to use them. Make them your next stunt, if you will. We'll think of something to keep them busy, keep them involved. Your contestants will have to accomplish a few tasks," Gideon spoke magniloquently and as he studied the two demons he could see which one he needed to be aiming his bargaining at.

Behind Gideon's back Clea wrinkled her nose and shook her head quickly, but Corr licked his lips and frowned slightly deeper.

"Your demons will have to get past them to get to her…" Gideon stopped, realising his mistake.

"Her?" Clea asked, an eyebrow arched.

"There is a very evil girl carrying… what is going to be a very evil child. And another evil child, one already in existence. The Twice Blessed one. I need the distraction so I can keep the Charmed Ones from protecting them whilst I deal with them," Gideon said, watching pleasantly as he saw he had set gears turning in Corr's head at least and allowing himself a small smile, waiting to see what the outcome would be.

"Get past the Power of Three? That's a suicide mission. No one will sign up," Clea said.

Corr put yet another jacket back, the expression on his face showing real interest, even if his partner remained sceptical of the Elder and his motives.

"The Power of Three isn't a factor at the moment because Piper is convalescing at my school for the duration of her pregnancy," he offered, and Clea feel silent, looking thoughtful for the first time.

"It would draw upper-level demons," Corr said quietly to Clea, finally choosing a jacket that he kept on.

"I don't trust him," she hissed back. "Why would an Elder wanna sacrifice an innocent witch or put The Charmed Ones in danger?"

"I don't, and that's part of the deal," Gideon snapped, the tone and the raising of his voice making the two demons turn, surprised. "There will be no blood drawn. Not by you in any case. You will set up a series of tasks, have the demons, oh, I don't know, steal something from the Manor to begin with? Let it escalate from there."

"Steal something?" Clea asked, scepticism written all over her face. No demons would sign up to steal something from a witch. They were demons; they wanted blood not stupid stuff.

"If you kill innocents or in any way harm the Charmed Ones, then your game will be over and you will be dead. Understand?" Gideon growled, his voice low, dangerous and silky.

"We don't take kindly to threats, Elder," Clea said, advancing on him with hate scribed on her features, enunciating every word as clearly as she could. The Elder didn't back up or drop his gaze with her.

"Or, um ... how would we, uh, put them under surveillance?" Corr asked, putting an arm around Clea to stop her advancing any more, but hoping it didn't look that way to Gideon.

The Elder realized he had one of them hooked and got ready to reel him into doing his bidding, hoping that this one demon could get the other to follow.

"Get the contestants ready. Put a Charmed One under non-lethal attack, and I'll take care of the rest. The cameras?"

Corr immediately moved between Clea and Gideon to get the cameras, while Clea poked her tongue in her cheek, angry that she was being ignored. She couldn't believe he trusted an Elder. She could almost feel the high-and-mighty being's blade stabbing them both in the back.

Corr came back, opening a wooden box as he did so, displaying five deep red crystals inside. Clea moved to stand beside him, tucking her hands into her hips. They might as well make it look like a show of unity, even if she far from agreed with what her partner was doing. Gideon frowned slightly, reaching out to pick up a crystal. Behind him his own image appeared on one of the TV monitors. Smug, Corr looked to Clea, who glared back at him. Gideon turned and looked at himself in the monitor.

"Clever," he said, putting the crystal back in the box and gently closing the lid, unable to hide the fact that he was actually impressed.

"Thanks," Clea bit out, a slight sneer curling her lip.

"Oh, and one more thing. Should you come across the girl be warned. The Source has a nasty habit of helping her create fireballs. Don't disappoint me." Gideon took the box and orbed away as Corr's mouth twisted to form a grin. Clea turned and hit him hard on the arm. Met his grin with one of her ownClea met his grin with one of her own..

"What's the matter with you?" She demanded. "Why do you trust him?" Infuriated that he was still wearing that grin she moved to hit him again, but he started speaking.

"Did he just say what I think he said?" She purred in disbelief. Corr nodded and Clea's grin faded slightly. "But for all we know he could be lying. Why do you trust him?"

"I don't. But with all the powers that we'll get from the demons who sign up, we'll have more than enough to kill him when the time comes. And if he's not lying then he's just given us a direct path to the Source of All Evil. Didn't you see the way he freaked when he let it slip? Kind of handy to be in favour with him, no? He's not getting that girl — we are. No need to get anymore upper level demons to attempt to rule the Underworld — we'll already have the power to do so.."

"I love it," she purred, playfully reaching out and scratching his chest in a cat-like manner. They moved in and kissed.

Learning to Tango

Gideon tossed the box down onto his desk. It skidded slightly across the polished wooden top and then came to a halt. Sigmund looked up in surprise as Gideon smirked, throwing himself down into his chair.

"S-sir? I was calling you."

Gideon looked up. "I put an Elder charm over the school. Effectively it acts like the Underworld, blanketing any calls to or for whitelighters. coming in or going out. I don't want them alerting the half-whitelighter brat too soon. They're He and his witch friend are both… too intuitive —; they'd be on to us." Gideon eyed the box thoughtfully.

"So what do we d-do next?"

"I've put a spell on Wyatt's playpen. A one-way, one-time charm that will bring him straight to us once he's put in it. And if I know the Charmed Ones, they'll not want to let the child out of their sights, so that means keeping Wyatt in his playpen in the attic while they check the Book of Shadows for the hints I've had left in the message. That's when we'll get Wyatt. And once we have Wyatt, getting the girl and her baby should be child's play…"

Learning to Tango

Ben breathed harder trying to shift on the stake of wood through his stomach. The blood on it was turning brown and hard and every move he made broke another splinter off in his gut. But he had to get up… He tried to move again and cried out in pain, screwing his eyes closed.

"C-Chris!" He choked at the chandelier, willing his best friend to come. Where was Chris? Why wasn't he coming?

Suddenly a darklighter black orbed into the entryway. Ben twisted his head around to try and face the intruder, flicking a weak wrist at him. The fire glanced off of the darklighter's chest, leaving a small brown singe on his jacket. Ben tried again but he was too weak to conjure his power once more and the flames died as his head lolled back to the floor helplessly.

The darklighter snorted and grinned maliciously when he saw the downed witch and poked Ben with the butt of his crossbow pusillanimously, knowing that his foe could not even think about fighting back. Normally the sight of such a wounded do-gooder would put him in fine fettle, but he had his orders and he was not here to kill a male witch. He was here to make sure the Charmed Ones got involved. Non-lethally, apparently. Although he couldn't work out why… He was disappointed to find that there were no whitelighter signatures in the house — not even the faint ones that radiated from any half-breed — and moved through the wreckage.

He skirted around Ben, climbing up the staircase. It was a deathtrap with holed, splintered steps and missing banisters halfway up. The darklighter got to the landing and turned, cocking his head this way and that until he pinpointed the location of the running water.

He crouched next to the door, listening intently. A female was singing in the shower. Perfect. There was a Charmed One at home. He black orbed out, swirling in a deep purple mass under the door. As soon as he reappeared the bolt in his crossbow with a single sheet of cream paper wrapped around it was spat from the weapon and punctured the shower screen, spider webbing the frosted glass door. It cracked a tile down the middle and the white square dropped to the floor of the stall and shattered, throwing grit and grout onto and under Piper's feet. The arrow embedded itself in the plaster.

Piper shrieked in outrage and embarrassment and turned, kicking open the door and covering herself with one arm, blasting with the other. The darklighter disappeared like smoke and the blast blew a chunk out of the wall and sent a towel floating to the floor in blackened tatters.

Learning to Tango

Chris orbed into the entryway, his sneakers almost immediately cracking on broken wood. Looking forward he spotted Ben on the floor, lying still. The witch-whitelighter's green eyes widened in shock and before he knew it he was on his knees beside his fallen friend. His fingers scrabbled for a pulse in Ben's wrist and he had to dig deep upon the cold flesh to find a faint, fluttering thread of life. It seemed almost to be beating out of Ben's skin and Chris quickly set to work, snapping the stake off and then gently levitating Ben off of the spear of banister.

A light groan escaped Ben's lip but the witch didn't wake. Chris looked to the ceiling and yelled for his father, urgency and fear tingeing his voice. He couldn't lose Ben as well, he couldn't… The Elder didn't appear and Chris got to his feet and took the stairs two at a time, bounding up to Wyatt's bedroom. He bumped into Piper on the landing, who had a white, fluffy towel wrapped around her body and another one acting as a turban for her hair and had just opened her mouth to be indignant and rant about the arrow wrapped in a towel in her hand when her youngest son sprinted back past her, clutching her infant but older —– God, this was headache-inducing stuff —– son to his chest. She whirled as Chris disappeared in a shower of orbs as he reached the corner. She realised that her mouth was open and closed it abruptly, cautiously following Chris's progress.

Clutching at the top of her towel she made her way gingerly down the first few steps, nearly falling into the entryway as she leaned on the banister and found her hands meeting nothing but empty air.

She gasped at the scene below her, shrinking back in horror from the growing pool of thickening crimson blood that was seeping from Ben. A huge, bloodied splinter of wood stood straight up in the middle of the floor and Ben was lying next to it, white as a ghost. Chris was trying to cajole Wyatt into healing his best friend, but Piper couldn't hear how he was doing it.

"Okay, Buddy. This is kind of important, right? Ben means a lot to Chris and Chris is going to be very sad if anything happens to Ben, so do you think you can heal him? For me?"

Wyatt looked at him blankly, chewing on two of his fingers. Chris looked straight back at the toddler, pleading silently with him.

"Wyatt, please. Do it for me?"

Wyatt blinked at his brother and Chris felt as if his skin were crawling with ants. He looked down at his hands and found that they were being consumed by orbs. The witch-whitelighter tried to cry out, but he was being forcefully dematerialised.

"Wyatt!" Piper chided, descending the stairs carefully, trying not to get splinters in her bare feet. She could have at least had the sense to get some slippers, she thought. "We've had this conversation! You're not to orb Chris ANYwhere!" Alas, it was too late as Chris already had disappeared. She didn't know why Wyatt was so fascinated with orbing Chris all over the place and as. S she finally navigated the staircase and realised that the entryway was just as big a minefield.

Wyatt looked blankly at his mother and murmured something into his fingers, looking at the ground. Blood was rapidly advancing towards the toddler's miniature sneakers and Piper urged herself forward, reasoning that Leo could always heal out the splinters later.

"Look, Wyatt," Piper began, crouching next to him. "I need you to do something really big and brave for Mommy, okay? You see Ben? Well, he's hurt. You think you can make him better?"

Wyatt blinked and turned towards Ben, still not taking the fingers out of his mouth. He held his other pudgy hand over Ben and a golden light began to surround the fallen witch. Piper knelt there and prayed that they weren't too late. It seemed to be taking a while, and Piper didn't want to push Wyatt to try harder. It wouldn't be fair on him and maybe, just maybe, Ben's body had been damaged beyond all repair…

The blood, which had been creeping nearer and nearer, was about to be drunk up by her towel when the red tide stopped, flowing, was flowing backwards slowly at first, and then faster and faster until it disappeared. Ben let out a shuddering gasp and sat bolt upright, his hands pressing to his stomach. He found no wound and sagged in relief, slowly lying back down onto the floor and groaning.

"Ow?" Piper asked, scooping Wyatt up and holding him close, kissing him on the cheek.

"Ow," Ben agreed, rubbing his head. "Where's Leo?"

"Leo?" Piper planted another kiss on Wyatt's other cheek. "Who's a good boy? Who is Mommy's wonderful little guy? Why do you ask?"

"He did this."

Piper was about to tickle Wyatt under the chin but she stopped. "What?"

"He… he was seeing things. Hearing things. Both. I don't know… He attacked me."

"No, that's, that's… that's ridiculous. He's Leo for God's sake. He wouldn't do that."

"Not even if something was leading him to believe he was protecting his family?"

Piper stopped and put Wyatt down next to her, sighing heavily. "Leo?"

The Elder didn't appear, not even when Piper yelled loud enough to startle Wyatt. She bit her lip and looked down from the ceiling into Ben's eyes.

Realisation dawned. "Oh my God. He did."

Ben only shrugged and looked to the floor

Learning to Tango

"WYATT!" Chris yelled as soon as he reappeared. He looked around him and discovered that he was in the attic. In Wyatt's playpen.

Chris grimaced as the side practically burst as he struggled to unfold his legs. He was sitting on something very hard and he shifted slightly, only to have Wyatt's fire truck stab his back with its ladder. The witch-whitelighter growled in frustration and was about to pull himself out using his arms when what seemed to be a huge, white, static spark jumped through his hand from the side of the playpen. He cried out in pain before realising that the whole thing was glowing a deep purple.

He tried to orb but he hit something and was tossed back down into the playpen and his body was consumed by frenzied orbs for the second time that day before they completely smothered to him, clinging and dragging him away.

Learning to Tango

Gah, 'Quick'Edit is being such an arse. It's getting thiiiiiiis close to getting on my shortlist of things to get Piper toblow up.

It's a week away from being a month since my last post-- sorry! But yeah, I expect you're as sick of reading that as I am of writingit, butit's all gah and big bad and gah again. Heh. I'm sitting here trying to learn an entire page of writing about Harry Potter -- in French no less -- so I can pass my oral exam on TUESDAY. Where did the time go? I want my youth back!

ANYHOO:

Stony Angel: - Hey there. Glad I could make you smile, honey. And thank you so much! Happy me now. I'm going to smile and smile and smile some moreand wonder why the hell it's so damn hard to say 1986 en francais. Ciao!

Pixie Wildfire - Yay! It's you! Did I cover everything? Methinks so. Thank you!

Krissie - Hey, thanks a lot. Reviews make me happy, and I'm glad you're still liking this. Willow is my favourite too - although I loved evil Willow's attitude. She was great but then I'm an odd person. Thanks so much for your review - it's good to know you enjoyed my Buffy gamble!

FrostyRose333 - Thank you, and I love your pen name. I have a picture of an icy rose. It's all inspiring-like. Except as you can tell my brain has crawled out of my ear. Look, there it goes...Thanks for reviewing.

ilovedrew88: - Hey, thanks a lot! Lots of reviews, making me so happy. I'm glad you like it - blame my beta for demanding fluff. I can almost see her sitting there with her fingers in her ears pretending she's oblivious to up-and-coming events. Glad you liked the link too as I know links between the two shows are numerous with several different variations in the fic world.

chattypandagurl: - Reading this back I just realised that we don't see Bridget at all. ARGH. Heh. I guess this chapter might be missing her attitude, because it felt like something. Thanks so much for reviewing.

As Always: - Soon? I tried at least. Heh. Thanks for telling me which scenes you liked, it gives me a good inclination of where to go next. And thanks for reviewing! As always (heh) it means a lot to me.