Chapter Eleven

The Council's Court Room

More than a dozen faces stared down at the floor from the observation booth. They leaned against the railing, all straining to see just what exactly was going on down there. Whispers ran rampant amongst their number. Was this all just a fascinating trick by Albus and Xavier to heal the Pirates, or was something else going on? Drell would have commanded his people to be ready had he thought that there was any way for their prisoners to escape, but knowing that escape was impossible, he merely remained impatiently to see what the lifting of the light would reveal.

"XAVIER!" he finally bellowed out. "DUMBLEDORE! ENOUGH WITH THE PARLOR TRICKS! BE DONE WITH IT ALREADY!" It just so happened that that was the precise moment that the light was pulling away . . .

As the light had washed over Spike, snatching Kyna from his arms, Spike had jumped to his feet and tried to take her back. The light had taken her completely away despite Spike's immense strength. He had watched in shock as her body was spun literally round and round and her head reattached. He felt sick for his beloved as he watched the dizzying rate she was spun around at.

He had blanched even whiter than his normal color and had not even been aware that he had shouted her name. Was she okay! This was certainly not the normal way of reattaching heads, if he had understood Xena correctly! It was supposed to do it on its own! If those Wizards had screwed up and changed Kyna into something else, they would pay for it! He leaped upward and caught her in his arms just as she began descending . . .

Prue had watched in shocked disbelief as the light had lifted Brendan. Her arms had reached toward him, but she had been unable to touch even his feet. The light had whipped him around and around, picking up speed until it had looked as though his body was being torn in half, but she had realized that his fur was disappearing and his body staying intact instead.

She had clasped her hands over her open mouth to silence her scream. She could not have bared to watch, but yet she had been unable to tear her tear-filled eyes away lest her last sight of him be what she was now witnessing and he be taken away. At last, her voice had cried out his name as the tears had began running down her face. "BRENDAN!"

How much pain could one man stand! she had wondered as his roars and howls kept hitting her ears. When she had almost given up hope of him being saved, silence was all that reigned. Had they killed him? If so, she would never stop until she found the culprit and made him pay with every last ounce of his blood!

Then, to her amazement, Brendan was slowly lowered to the floor. She flew to his side at once and never noticed when the light left.

Kitty had held on to Rachel for a long time even after an invisible force had started pulling her away with a force unlike anything Shadowcat had opposed before. She had held on to Ray for a long time, walking on the air itself to keep her best friend from being snatched out of her grip. She had held on even as she had felt that every inch of her muscle was on fire. She had held on even when Rachel had cried for her to let go and save herself and Lockheed had screeched, roared, and tried his best to beat her off of Rachel. She had held on until she could hold on no more.

The very second her hold had slipped, Rachel was carried away, far up into the room, and into the golden light. Rachel and Kitty screamed. Lockheed roared. Kitty tried to follow only to have Lockheed beat his wings and small arms into her chest, demanding, in no uncertain terms, that she stay where she might at least have a chance of safety.

Kitty phased through her dragon, chiding Lockheed for trying to keep her from saving Rachel. Her words froze in her throat and horror paled her face and filled her as Rachel was wrapped completely in the light that now shone so brilliantly that neither Kitty nor 'Heed could see anything else. It took only a second, it seemed, and then the light lowered Rachel's now-still body to the floor and chased away into the shadows. "Rachel!" Kitty ran to her friend's side and dropped to her knees beside her.

"Kitty," Rachel responded, her voice quiet and calm, "it's okay. I'm okay."

Lockheed cooed as he and Kitty looked over Ray's body, searching for signs of injury and blood. With gentle hands that brought thrills racing through Rachel's blood and made her heart hammer, Kitty helped her friend to a sitting position, and Lockheed and she examined Ray's back. Woman and dragon looked at each other, their wide eyes sharing the same look of disbelief, amazement, and astonishment.

Lockheed cooed quietly, and Kitty spoke the same in a hushed whisper. "It's a miracle." Though Rachel's gown was still torn open and soaked with blood, her back was completely healed. The whip marks, gashes, and blood were all gone; not even a blemish remained. "Ray . . . "

Rachel, having already seen through Kitty's eyes, interrupted her. "I know . . . It is . . . But . . . But how!"

"I don't know, Ray. I don't know," Kitty told her, "but thank the Gods!" Her arms wrapped Rachel in a hug from behind, and Ray sighed and relished the moment as she gave her a return squeeze.

Cordelia had been horrified when Trent had been lifted away from her by the light, but as unexpectedly as it had taken him away from her, it returned him to the floor before her. She knelt beside him and was checking him over, her hazel eyes round with astonishment, when he began to come to again.

"Sweet Jesus," were the first words out of the blonde man's mouth for he could already tell a miracle had taken place. The pain was gone, and with it, the inability to save his family!

Cordelia pulled back as Trent leapt to his booted feet; she moved just in time to keep from getting hit by the man who hadn't opened his eyes until he got up. He took no time to look at her but did quickly speak. "Thank you, ma'am. I owe you a debt of gratitude for taking care of me and for sending your gentleman friend after my sister, but I must care for my family myself." The words came out in a rush, and he was already running off before she could react.

"Wait!" Cordy called to the blonde's back. "Are you sure you're well enough . . . ?" Her words drifted off. She had seen him, and she knew that he was somehow well. The blood was still on his clothes, so she knew that she was not imagining things. Somehow, by some miracle, he had been healed.

Cordelia's protest turned to, "Wait for me!", as she hurried after him, her mind still baffled at his amazing recovery.

When Roxanne had turned from the Vampire and seemingly ran away, she had known better than to try to leave a room she could see no exit from. Instead, she had called to her pets to keep going and leave her behind and had turned to run toward a particular spot with a single goal of protecting the beautiful woman who was there. Her goal had quickly changed just enough to include the protection of her two familiars, who even then had refused to leave her and instead flanked her on both sides, pulling their gaits up just enough to keep from outrunning her.

Roxanne had reached the woman of her thoughts just before the light had covered everything and had taken her and her babies in her arms in faint hope of protecting the lot of them. The light had not yet harmed them when an invisible force pushed her away from the other Latina. She had growled and tried to hold on to her but had been shoved off. Now, however, as the light lifted, it returned the still-sleeping woman to the floor.

Roxanne hurried to the other woman's side, her jaguars keeping pace with her every step of the way. She knelt again by her side and looked into her face. She seemed to be peaceful, but still doubt and fear lingered. Roxanne had just reached out to check the woman's pulse when her eyes fluttered open.

The Latina looked from Roxanne to the jaguars to the rest of the room that she could see before looking back at Roxanne. "Donde . . . " she asked. "¿Dónde estoy? ¿Quiénes son usted?"

"You are safe," Roxanne began to tell her but stopped when she saw the look of confusion and fright increase on her beautiful face. "¿No puede usted hablar inglés?"

"Ningún . . . " the woman replied, slowly shaking her head. "Ningún Inglés."

Roxanne smiled comfortingly at the woman. Still speaking in Spanish, she assured her, "That is all right. I will help you and be your translator, if you'll allow it. My name is Roxanne. I'm not quite sure where we are, but I'll keep you safe."

"I saw you . . . " the woman breathed, her dark eyes examining Roxanne's face. " . . . in my dreams . . . "

"I was there with you whenever I could be," Roxanne told her. "I hated what they did to you, but I could not stop them."

"Then you were amongst them?"

Roxanne hung her head in shame. "Si. I was with them, but I had no choice. I kept looking for a way to get us out, or to at least get you out, but could find none until these other people came. Then I saw my opportunity and took it. I never would have harmed you willingly. I'm sorry. I'm . . . I'm so sorry." Tears were welling in her eyes.

The Latina studied the woman before her for a long moment before reaching out and gently touching her face. Roxanne looked up, and she cupped her face with a touch as light as a feather. "It is all right," she told her. "Sometimes we are forced to do what we would never willingly do for we have no other choice. I understand, and I do not hold that against you." As Roxanne smiled at her through her tears, the Latina returned her smile and added, "By the way, my name is Theodora Todd."

"I know," Roxanne's response came out as a choked whisper. She could feel Sasha's head gently bumping her side and Yasmine's side rubbing against her own, and she moved her hands to their spotted heads, scratching them lovingly in silent assurance that she was all right. To herself, Roxanne added, And what a lovely name for such a lovely woman. But how is it that she is well?

How was it indeed, she wondered, that the mysterious light had saved the ravishing beauty before her from certain death? Who had healed Theodora, and where were they so that she might thank them? Unable to thank the person who had performed the miracle, Roxanne sent a silent prayer of gratitude winging its way upward.

"Aw," Jasmine frowned as the light receded into darkness. "The pretty light's going! Come back!" she called to the light, struggling to get out of the British man's arms. "Come back!"

"Shut up, Jasmine!" Wesley told her, trying to recover from the shock of the light. "Don't call that thing back! There's no telling what it would do if it returned!"

"It'd shine on us again!" she told Wesley as though the answer was obvious.

"But what did it do while it was shining on us?" Wesley asked her. He gazed into the beautiful woman's face but wondered how she could be so damn stupid as to call the light back.

"It shared its beauty with us!" Jasmine replied, her fingers still stretching out toward the last rays of light. "Don't go! We want to be your friend!"

"I don't!" Wesley told her. "I'm glad it's going!" His eyes began to travel around the room, noticing that there were a lot more people stirring now. There seemed to be just as much blood on the clothes, but ones he had seen earlier who had not been moving were now able to sit up.

He slowly began to release Jasmine. If she wanted to chase after the light, he wasn't going to follow her. He just didn't feel like it. His emotions were driving him crazy. One moment, he wanted to holler, and the next minute, he wanted to cry. He wasn't going to let Jasmine make him do either one, and if she was stupid enough to chase into the light and it ate her, that would be one last bit in the world he'd have to put up with.

Jasmine leapt out of Wesley's arms. "Well, it's about time!" she exclaimed, looking down at him. "I mean, really, I'm used to men being so grabby, but they usually try to do something besides hold me against my will!" She looked back up to where the light was going and held out a hand as if to stop it. "Don't go!" she pleaded and raced after it.

Wesley still sat on the floor, shaking his head as he watched Jasmine run. "I hope Jack doesn't blame me for her getting eaten." He attempted to get to his feet but found that he could not without assistance. He glanced around to see if he could find some one to help him get up and was just in time to watch Jasmine run smack dab into a wall. Jasmine backed up and, to Wesley's horror and amazement, hit the wall again. "Gods help the woman!" he muttered even as he spied Carl's rear end sticking out of a hole. "Carl?" he called. "Can you help me?"

Lex and Joseph lay only five feet apart, and yet neither man had the slightest inkling that the other even existed. They lay on the floor, Joseph's hair a flowing river of white beneath him, their blue eyes staring up at the golden light that had encompassed everything, and their minds whirlwinds of thoughts. Lex thought of Clark and their children, wondered about their locations, and feared for their safety and well-being. He wondered why his father was there, mulled over the possible schemes that Lionel could be pulling, and fretted over what he might really be doing and just what devious scheme he was setting into motion. He wondered and worried about Faith, Jack, and the others, as well, and prayed for his entire family's safety and survival. He reflected, not for the first time, how his dear, sweet Clark had him praying more these days than he'd ever thought he would. He feared greatly for his beloved, their children, and their family and continued to pray for their safe deliverance from the living nightmare their lives had became over the last couple of days.

Unlike Lex, whose wandering mind merely kept returning to Clark every couple of seconds, Joseph's mind was completely wrapped around his beloved Rogue. He feared for her and hurt for her undoubtable hatred of him when he still loved her with his every ounce so strongly that the two feelings had become a physical ache in his heart. Every now and then, the strange familiarity of the holding cell would flit through Joseph's mind and he would wonder and worry about it, but always his thoughts and his prayers remained on his Rogue.

Even after the light had gone and the others began to move around, Joseph and Lex stayed where they were, still laying on the cold, stone floor, their minds still circling around the continuously repeating thoughts. Lex refused to give the advantage of surprise up to his father, and Joseph simply did not have the heart to rise with his beloved hating his guts . . . though, he reminded himself time and again, she had every right to . . . "Rogue . . . " His whisper of her name was more akin to a whimper, and still he did not move . . .

Lost deep still in his dreams, Clark mumbled once again. "Let me sleep a little while longer, Lex." In answer came a rolling ball of fur landing upon Sir Didymus and knocking him straight into Clark's chest. The ensuing battle between cat and dog woke Clark suddenly to find the world gone mad with claws and teeth. He barely managed to get out of their way before an all-out battle became a mad melee of flying fur.

"STOP IT THIS INSTANT!" Clark yelled at the two. "WE DO NOT NEED TO BE FIGHTING AMONGST OURSELVES!" More awake and alert now, he reached out and snatched the gray tabby just before Didymus could strike him with his cane. "Where did you come from?"

Willow looked up at him, his claws stopping just short of Clark's face. "Mrrw?"

"Sir Didymus, stop that at once," Clark commanded the dog, who had just hit him on the foot with his cane, "or I will take your cane away!"

Didymus looked up at the young man. "You might find that quite difficult, young sir! No one takes my cane away, not even the King! He said, 'Didymus, guard the bridge,' and I have guarded it faithfully. Out of all those who came, none of them could take my cane and keep it, not even that crazy Ludo!"

"He is my brother. Would you believe that he can call the rocks and that they come to him? But I have not seen him this night! I am afraid that he has fallen!" The small dog sat down and grew very quiet, missing his brother.

Clark shook his head. It was hard enough to believe that a dog was actually talking to him, but he found it to be even more incredible that another dog could call the rocks. Weren't they inanimate objects? He'd have to talk to Lex about it as soon as he found him. "Didymus, have you seen Lex?"

But Didymus was too far gone to hear him, and it was the tabby cat who answered him. "Meow." He pointed his striped tail in the direction he had last seen Lex.

Clark picked up Didymus and started following behind the tabby, hoping he would soon find Lex.

As soon as the light was gone, Ororo lowered Logan and Paige to the floor and landed the three of them before Cole, Piper, and Kit, whose fur was still sticking out from his position in Piper's arms. Her blue eyes and dark face were filled with worry as she questioned with the tone of a worried mother-hen, "Is every one all right?" Immediately, her arms reached out for her girls and brought them into a hug.

Logan stood on shaky legs. He had had more than enough of flying and didn't care if he ever got up there again. His eyes glared angrily at where he knew the Judges sat. "Little darlin', most o' us are okay right now, but I gotta feelin' that that's gonna change in a little bit. I don't know what those gritty little bastards want, but I've got something fer 'em if they come after us."

"As do I, Wolverine," Ororo replied, her voice smooth and calm, as she uncovered Piper's and Paige's ears, "but be careful when you choose your target. They may not all be as they appear. Piper, Paige," she persisted, "are you both all right?"

Even as she listened for her girls' answers, Ororo's mind was busily speaking to another who she hoped could hear her. Charles, what on the Goddess' blessed Earth was that!

Piper nodded, keeping her own fear well hid, even as she reached behind her for Cole's hand. "We're fine."

Paige nodded as she reached out to scratch Kit's head and try to calm the cat. "She's right, Aunt Ororo. Whatever it was, the light didn't hurt us."

Both girls eyes peered anxiously at their godmother, and they spoke the question that wore heavily on their minds at the same time. "Are you all right?"

"I-I'm perfectly fine," Ororo assured them with a warning air that they should not ask any further questions.

Cole's dark brown eyes darted around the room. "It seems that every one is recovering, but I wonder if any one's powers have returned?" It was then that his eyes came to rest on Jasmine. "Except for that one. What is her problem?"

As the rest of the group turned to look at the blonde woman Cole indicated, Ororo received Charles' answer. I . . . I am not sure, my child, but I did not cause it. She could tell that he was distracted but would never have dreamed that he was in another man's arms and trying to reassure him that he was indeed all right. It does, however, appear, to have had a bit of a healing quality with it.

Smee had kept his position on James for as long as he could. He had fought against the laughter even as it had bubbled out of him like steam rising out of a tea kettle. He had been managing rather well until his boys had converged on him, as well, and, taking a cue from their father, had also started tickling him. Vang and Zora had watched the scene unfolding, she being uncertain as to how the situation was going to work out and he having a foreboding feeling in his gut. They had stood side by side, watching silently, until, suddenly, Smee had lost the tickling war.

When he finally got off of James, Smee did not simply fall off nor did he stand up. Instead, he popped off with such momentum that his chubby arms accidentally knocked into both his boys' long legs. He landed hard on his round bottom on the floor and slid across the floor at a nauseating rate. He went right through Joxer and Phoebe, his fat body and the momentum of the impact sending them flying up into the air and tumbling down. They landed hard behind him as he kept sliding.

When Smee's slide finally came to an end, it was through a meeting with something big and solid. He came to a halt against it, but by the time he had turned his dazed head around to look, the big, black man was gone, running in a new direction across the floor. Smee didn't care. He just let him go as he tried to regain control of his senses.

The first thing Smee realized after the dizziness had left him at last was that the light was gone. The second was the fact that he had just acted like a fool. A cry broke from Samuel and shook his belly as he thought that there was no wonder why James didn't love him. How could he love a fat, old fool whose tub of lard had nearly crushed him for no apparent reason whatsoever? His hands balled into tight, little fists, and he shoved his eyes down upon them as he wept once more.

No wonder James didn't love him! No wonder he hated him and would rather have a woman! He was a failure, a stupid, little, fat failure who no more deserved James than . . . than . . . than that ugly bitch from last night had! Of course, though, he had to admit, at least she wasn't fat . . . He cried even more at that thought.

Trina stirred and called out a name. "Carlos?" The word was a mere mumble, barely audible save by Vampire ears.

"No," Angel replied softly. "It's just me." He still had trouble believing what his eyes had just witnessed. He had been carrying Trina, returning to Trent, when Trina had been plucked literally from his arms and carried upward in the light. She now appeared to be whole, as though she had never been harmed in the first place. Not even a bruise appeared on her delicate, lovely skin, but the blood still lay on her clothes and they were torn.

He knelt beside her on the floor so that she could get a better look at him, hoping that she'd remember him. After what she'd been through, he would have wondered if he could even remember his own name. What had caused that light? There was no way that he believed that the Wizards had done it. He did not trust them and always thought that their powers were just for show, so how could they have done something this real?

Trina was not yet sitting up but was going over the memories of the previous night; the memories of what had happened paled her skin and made her hands shake to the point that she slid them underneath her to force them to be still. It was just at that time that Angel's face came into her vision. She tried to smile, but her lips trembled. "Angel. Have you seen my brother or a . . . a brown-skinned man with short, curly, black hair?" She knew he wouldn't know what a Mexican was to save his life, but even as she spoke, her blue eyes remained haunted.

"I just left your brother a little while ago with my lady so that I could come and get you. He was not in any shape to fetch you. There are a lot of people here, and I have not seen the other man that you speak of. That does not mean that he is not here, just that I haven't seen him. Are you able to walk, or do you need me to carry you? We should be getting back to your brother before he runs off in a blind panic again. If he does that, Cordy will not be able to hold him."

"I . . . I can manage." She got to her feet even as questions filled her mind and fear her heart. Her heart beat so loudly that she knew he could probably hear it as she wondered how badly Trent was hurt, where Carlos was, and if he was okay. She remembered Andrew, and her heart hurt even more. She knew he had not been the only one deceitful in their relationship, and that knowledge hurt still more.

"Angel," she spoke, as though still gathering her thoughts which indeed she was, "Trent still does not know what Spike is."

"Best not tell him," Angel told her. "He doesn't know what I am either unless you told him. What did the light do to you, Trina? You were in bad shape, and now you seem to be whole. In fact, I do not smell open wounds."

He gazed at her curiously as he stood before her. He still wondered who had caused the light and what their intent and purpose was behind it. Could it simply be that they wanted to heal his people? He hoped so, but he knew, throughout his long existence, that nothing had ever been as simple as it appeared to be on the surface. Now he wondered what repercussions would follow the light.

"I didn't see any light," Trina told him, her blue eyes flitting around the room that was as dark as a starless, new moon night. "But I do know I shouldn't be well. I was hit." She attempted to leave it at that.

"You were more than hit, Trina. You were bleeding to death. One of the Piratesses from the Saucy Wench claimed to be a doctor and was working on you when I found you. Even though she did her best, you were still dying. I could smell it on you, but that smell's gone now."

He gazed down into her eyes. "I was trying to carry you to Trent when the light ripped you from my arms. It took you up, twirled you around three times, and then gently lowered you back to the floor. I knew it was doing something to you, but I couldn't reach you. It was as though I was held in place. Then, just as suddenly as it came, it left, and you are as you are now."

"In other words," Trina questioned, "somehow the light healed me?"

"That's the only thing I can figure," Angel told her, "but I don't know who caused the light. I heard one from above telling Albus and Xavier that they had done well, but I don't think those Wizards did anything! When have you ever known Wizards to actually do something helpful?"

Trina looked at Angel for a moment as a thought wondered through her mind. Andrew was an Angel. Angels could supposedly heal, but he had said that he was the Angel of Death. Surely the Angel of Death didn't go around healing people? He couldn't have been behind the light, Trina told herself, and she needed to just stop thinking about him and concentrate on finding Trent and Carlos and making certain they were all right.

Aloud, she answered Angel, "There are probably just as many who have never heard of a helpful Wizard as those who've never heard of a good Vampire. If not for Dumbledore and Xavier, we wouldn't have even known that y'all needed our help."

"That may be true, but I still don't think that they have the power to pull something like this off." He was beginning to wonder why Trina had not asked about Andrew. He had not seen him anywhere, even though the last time he had seen Trina, Andrew had been glued to her butt. Did she know that he was dead? Had she seen him killed and was blocking it from her mind? He knew that Andrew was not a mortal man but had never told Trina as he figured she knew it and that it was their secret, not his, to be spreading around. His curiosity forced him to ask the question, "And what of Andrew? Was he killed?"

Trina's eyes fell from Angel's the very second he spoke Andrew's name. Her heart hammered in her ears like a roaring tidal wave. "He . . . He . . . " Dear God, how was she supposed to tell Angel that Andrew wasn't a human, he was an Angel, and not just any Angel but the Angel of Death, and that what had happened was truly just as much her own fault for not being able to completely shake her feelings for Carlos as it was Andrew's for not telling her that their time together was limited if she did not agree to be his bride!

Sean had kept his eyes on Emma the whole time, even after the light had passed. The light had simply circled around Emma. He had seen others being lifted and thought that they perhaps had more healing to be done, but his poor Em had injuries that no amount of magic could heal. No, it went far deep inside her head, inside that beautiful mind of hers. While being one of her greatest gifts, it was also one of her curses, and he could not deal with what he feared was going on in there.

He clutched her tightly, but still she did not give a reaction. "Em?" he whispered. "Please find yerself an' come home tae me fer I can nae come an' look fer ye an' I be lost wit'out ye." Tears ran unchecked down his face and fell upon his beloved's face.

Blue eyes fluttered open as tears rained down upon her. She wiped them from her face and stared at the man who held her. "Who," she whispered, finding her voice, "are you?" He was handsome, but she was certain she'd never seen him before in all her life.

"Ah, me beautiful Em!" Sean's voice caressed Em's ears. "Alas, but ye di nae remember me, but I am yer own Sean, yer husband! I love ye greatly, lass! I pray yer memories return soon." He did not press his lips to hers though he longed to; he did not wish to frighten her.

Emma's body had gone stiff in Sean's arms the moment he had declared himself as her husband. "Release me!" she demanded. "I am not your wife, nor do I even know this Em you speak of!" Just what was her name, though, she wondered? Surely it could not be something as . . . common as "Em"?

Sean released her with a sad look on his face. "I swear tae ye, lass, that it 'tis the truth. Me name is Sean Cassidy, an' yer name is Emma." He did not add the Frost, because he was afraid that that would really set her off. "What di ye remember, Em?"

The very second he had released her, Emma had gotten to her feet and backed away from him. She kept him in full sight but stopped backing up at his question. Instead, she tried hard to remember. She struggled to remember. She fought to remember. Yet she could recall . . . "Nothing," she whispered, her face as pale as though she'd seen a ghost. "Absolutely nothing."

Sean pondered. How could he prove to her who he was? His ring had been taken when they had been captured, and Em's ring had probably been taken a long time ago by those dastardly Piratesses who had had her so his alone would not have made a difference. The only people who knew that they were married were people who would scare her even more: Kurt, a blue Demon; James, a man with a hook for a hand; and Salem, a black, talking cat. Would she even take time to listen to them before she freaked out and ran away even further? No, he could not present any of them, not until she had found more of her mind.

"Em, I swear tae ye that it is the truth. I mean ye nae harm. I love ye. Ye're me wife. We were in a terrible battle wit' a Demon who mindswiped ye. That's why ye din't have any memories. Thank Goddess ye're alive! But I knae not what tae di tae convince ye."

Emma stared at the man, who she was certain was spouting complete blarney. He might be cute, but if he thought she was going to let her good senses go to the wind and believe the bull he was spouting . . . Well, he must not know her at all for surely, whoever she was, she could not have been an idiot! Nor, she thought, realizing what she wearing or, rather, not wearing, would she have fought so nearly completely in the nude. She cast a frantic glance around for clothing.

Sean watched Emma's eyes, looking everywhere but at him, and realized that she was looking for something to put on. He wasn't sure what to think of this new Em, but he did not want to do anything quickly to frighten her more. His eyes, too, began to search for clothing, and seeing one of the black robes, he stepped toward it and collected it. Bringing it back to Em, he offered it to her.

Emma quickly snatched the offered robe and swiftly drew it over her head. Even as her hands smoothed it out and made sure that it covered her, she looked again at the Irish man who claimed to be her husband. "Thank you, . . . Sean." The name did have a familiar taste to it.

Kneeling, Prue held Brendan close. She was amazed that her hands were now touching human flesh but still scared to death for her love. "Brendan?" she whispered, shaking him gently. "Please, Gods, he has to be all right!" she prayed.

Prue did not know how long she had knelt, holding and shaking Brendan, when his eyes fluttered open at last. A weak smile slowly spread over Brendan's face as his brown eyes gazed up into Prue's lovely face. He reached a hand up to cup her cheek, and his thumb caught a tear.

Prue's eyes flashed open as she felt his touch, and without a single word, she leaned forward and kissed him. Thank you, Gods, she whispered, for sparing him.

Brendan's fingers threaded into Prue's long, ebony hair. He could have kissed her forever . . . if only he had the freedom to do so. He let her lips linger on his for a moment and allowed himself to relish her sweet taste before gently pulling away. His eyes reminded her of his reluctance to do so and of his fear that forced him to stop them even as his husky voice gently whispered to her. "Prue, what . . . what's happening?"

"I'm not sure of what is happening and what just happened. How much do you know of what's going on?"

"The last thing I remember is . . . " His eyes moved from hers, lowering instead to a spot of stone floor he could see just behind her. " . . . is . . . the hold . . . " He bit down on the emotions that roared within him at the memories, the memories of what Helvira had done to him while Prue, his sweet, loving, innocent Prue, had been forced to watch . . .

"That's over now, sweetheart," she said as she gently brushed his hair out of his eyes, "but we're still prisoners. We've been taken somewhere, and we're being held in a dungeon. You've been gone a while." Her mind flashed back to what had happened between them earlier, and she was glad he did not remember what had almost happened. "Your wolf was good. You would have been proud of him."

"Never."

"He got me to safety," she continued, choosing to ignore his growled comment, "and he kept me safe." She didn't know whether or not to tell him what had happened with Jack and the hold or that Will had almost run him through with a silver sword. She'd let Jack tell him later. For now, she just wanted to be close to him; knowing that he was okay made her feel better.

Part of her realized that Brendan was naked and that he definitely would not like that. She thought for a moment as to what she could do to cover him as she knew it was a great embarrassment, although she couldn't help but to admire the scenery. Her eyes drifted from him and saw something laying on the floor near them. She reached out her hand and admired the softness of the cloth as she pulled it toward them. It turned out to be one of the robes that had been thrown down earlier. She put it over him as though it were a blanket. She smiled at him.

Brendan's hand closed around Prue's as she covered him. "You need that worse -- " He stopped as the cold breezes drifting over his body finally let him know that he was naked . . . again. He purpled and quickly donned the robe.

Prue didn't say anything. She just shook her head and kept smiling at him.

Brendan could not face Prue. Instead, he looked everywhere but at her. They did appear to be in a dungeon of sorts, but where were their captors and what did they want them for? "Are they . . . the same ones?" he questioned, his odd tone still betraying his embarrassment.

Prue leaned forward and whispered in his ear, "You've got nothing to be ashamed of, darling. I'm not. In fact, it's promises of tomorrow which excite me greatly."

"Prue!" Brendan admonished, but she only straightened and ignored his tone. Aloud, she told him, "I don't think they are. They're up there somewhere." Her eyes drifted upward.

Brendan followed Prue's gaze, choosing not to comment further on her whispers that had turned him an even darker shade of red. His eyes bored into the darkness above them, and he wondered when their captors would again show their faces and wished his human eyesight were better. When they did come among them again, he would do everything in his power to convince them to free Prue.

Ororo was only momentarily distracted by Paige's laughter and left it to Piper to scold the girl and put her in her rightful, ladylike place. "Paige! You should not laugh at the handicapped! It is not a laughing matter! Silence yourself immediately!"

"Well, it is funny . . . "

Paige's voice seemed to drone on to Ororo as she continued telepathically communicating with Charles. Healing? Are you quite certain?

I am. Look around you, my dear. They may still have blood on them, but how many do you see maneuvering now as opposed to before?

"It is not funny, Paige!" Piper snapped. "Imagine if that were you!"

"Hey! I'd never walk into a wall, especially not over and over and over again!" The redhead started to giggle, but the giggle died in her throat at Piper's sharp look.

Cole looked at Piper. "Maybe we should see about her before she does herself some real harm?"

Piper nodded. "And as for you," her eyes continued to cut daggers into her little sister, "I'll remember your comments when I find a bar of soap! You can be sure of that!" She waited, expectantly, for Cole to shimmer them to the aid of the woman . . . Jasmine?

There does seem to be quite a number, Charles, but are you certain that that's the cause and not fear?

I am.

Cole took Piper's hand and shimmered over to Jasmine. The very second they were gone, Paige stuck out her tongue at where she could see her sister safely on the other side of the room. She turned back around. She had known that Ororo had been distracted by something or else she never would have attempted a raspberry.

Ororo was still distracted, but Paige was surprised to find Wolverine glaring at her. Her eyes widened, and she swallowed at the motion he made with one hand. She eyed him in worried suspicion and was relieved to see that he did not pop a claw out at her.

To Be Continued . . .