Disclaimer: I own nothing. :-(

Authors's Note: Well, it's up a few days later than I had originally planned, but it's up all the same. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. According to my notes, there are still two more to come before I'll start working on the next story. Be sure to let me know what you think! I appreciate all the reviews. :-)

Chapter Four

"How was the funeral?" Piper asked her sons as they entered the kitchen. She pulled a casserole out from the oven, and set it on top of the stove to cool off. She turned around to face her sons, taking off her oven mitts.

"It was a hum-dinger. We closed the place," Wyatt replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He took off his jacket, draped it on the back of a chair, and made a beeline for the fridge.

"Wyatt!" Piper scolded. Sure, her son had his moments, all teenagers do. But generally he was an even-natured boy; sarcasm and brooding was more Chris's style. She was more than surprised by her eldest son's response to her question.

"I'm sorry," Wyatt apologized, removing a glass from the cabinet and pouring himself a glass of iced tea. "It's just . . . it was more difficult than I anticipated." He drummed his fingers against the glass. He looked down at its contents, but suddenly found himself no longer thirsty. "I'm gonna change before I head over to Cassie's," he said, leaving the glass on the counter and exiting the room.

Piper turned to her younger son, who had sat himself down at the kitchen table. "What's with your brother? Did something happen?" She crossed the room and took up the seat next to him.

"Nothing out of the ordinary for a funeral," was the reply. The young man played with the keys to the car he and Wyatt shared, unable to look at his mother.

Piper reached out and placed a hand over her son's. "Chris, look at me." The young man slowly raised his head and directed his gaze at his mother. "What happened?" she repeated the question, her tone soft and comforting.

"It's nothing. We just got to talking, Wyatt and I, about . . . things."

"Things? What kind of things?"

"Just . . . if we were in Cassie's situation." He took a deep breath before continuing. "You know, alone and suddenly with powers and expected to fight evil and everything."

"Oh, Chris, honey." Piper tilted her head to one side and studied her son. She wouldn't deny that was one of her fears, being a victim of what seemed to be the Warren legacy and leaving her children behind to grow up without a mother. And it might have happened, too, had a 22-year-old man from the future not twisted the hands of fate. "I'd be lying if I didn't admit I worried about the same thing from time to time." Her thumb moved in concentric circles in an effort to console her son. "But I know something you don't. Can I tell you a secret?"

Chris shrugged his shoulders. "Sure."

Piper leaned forward and whispered in her son's ear, "I've been to the future."

With these words Chris leaned back, his eyes widened in surprise. "You can't just go to the future."

The older woman smiled. "Sometimes you can. And I did. Twice, in fact. And I saw myself past the ripe old age of 80, playing Scrabble with your father, and plenty of grandkids. So you don't need to worry so much."

Chris smiled, mentally picturing the scene his mother described. "Wyatt had kids, huh?"

"Yup." Piper smiled, her son relaxing at her revelation. "And you, too."

In spite of himself the young man chuckled. "I have trouble picturing Wyatt with kids."

"You? What about me?" His mother joined in the laughter. "And I don't want to picture either one of you with kids until you've both graduated, got good jobs and are married."

"What's so funny?" Wyatt asked, re-entering the kitchen.

"Nothing," Chris and Piper replied, composing themselves and trying to subside their giggles.

"Right, nothing," Wyatt repeated, doubtful, but not in a mood to pry any further information out them. He walked over to the stove where casserole was cooling and took a whiff. "Smells good, Mom," he complimented.

"High praise coming from someone who thinks frozen pizza is gourmet cuisine," Piper responded, grinning from ear to ear.

"It beats the food on campus," Wyatt replied, smiling in spite of himself and his previous mood. He crossed the room and pulled a roll of aluminum foil out from a drawer. "Thanks for making this, Mom," he said, covering the casserole with a sheet of foil.

"Oh, don't mention it, sweetie. Just be sure to send our condolences to your friend," she said.

"Yeah, no problem," Wyatt said. He slipped oven mitts on his hands and started to walk out of the kitchen. Halfway to the door he stopped then turned around. He walked towards the kitchen table, set the casserole on it, and leaned over to hug his mother. "I love you, Mom."

Piper smiled and returned the hug. "I love you, too, Wyatt." She pulled back from her son and brushed a few rampant strands of hair from his forehead. "Now go take care of your charge."

"Okay," the young man said, returning the smile. He picked up the casserole and started to walk out of the kitchen. "Oh, and I get the car, Chris," he said, his retreating form orbing the keys to his pocket. Then he telekinetically opened the back door and left the Manor.

Wyatt Halliwell stood in the hallway, hands in oven mitts, holding a casserole and staring at the door to Cassandra Cole's condo. He was trying to work up the nerve to knock on her door. He had practiced what he was going to say to her in the car, but now that he had arrived at his destination, he was having second thoughts on his tactics. Should he try to trick her into using her power? Or should he just come right out with it and say she's witch? He sighed at his indecision, and ultimately decided to go with his gut, and say whatever felt best at the moment.

He balanced the warm dish on one arm, and knocked on the door with the free one. "Coming!" he heard from within the condo. A moment later the door swung open. Standing in front of him was a woman who appeared to be a few years older than his mother. Her hair, streaked with gray, was pulled back into a severe bun. Her cheeks were flushed, but the expression on her face was stern. "May I help you?" she asked.

"Yes," he said, his voice cracking with nerves. He cleared his throat and offered the older woman a smile. "My name is Wyatt Halliwell. I came to see Cassie."

The woman gave him a once over. "Is she expecting you?"

"No, no, she's not. She's in my brother's physics class. But my family saw her mother's obituary in the paper today and sends their condolences. My mother baked a casserole," he said, holding out the dish to her.

The woman thought it over, and for a minute the young Whitelighter feared she wouldn't let him in. But after a moment she called over her shoulder, "Cassie! You got company!" She made a sweeping gesture with her hand, inviting him inside. "There's a Halliwell here to see you," she said, closing the door. "Make yourself at home," she said to the young man before heading towards the kitchen.

Wyatt looked around the condo's living room while waiting for his charge to appear. It was pretty standard: beige walls, brown couch and arm chair, coffee table and ceiling fan overhead. However, the wall behind the TV caught his eye, and he took a few steps closer to get a better look. Numerous pictures hung on the wall. They varied in size, some hung horizontally and others vertically, but the frames were all the same shade of red. Upon further inspection, he realized they all centered around a baseball team: the Boston Red Sox.

"My parents met at Fenway." Wyatt turned around at the sound of another voice in the room, and found Cassie standing behind him. She was still in her black dress from the funeral, but shoes were absent from her stocking feet. She took a few steps forward and pointed to an 8x10 photo in the center. It was of a man and woman he assumed to be Cassie's parents. Their smiles were wide and their eyes were shining, matching ball caps on their heads. "This was taken on the first anniversary of the day they met." She pointed to another photo. "And this was my first ball game." The same couple was in the photo, but this time there was a baby in a Red Sox onesie sitting on the man's knee. Cassie stared at the photo for a moment, sighed, and then turned to Wyatt. "Thanks for stopping by. Although, I have to admit, when my aunt said a Halliwell was here, I wasn't expecting you."

"Chris wanted to come, but he had class." The lie rolled right off his tongue. "We both went to the service, though. It was nice." He held out the casserole to her. "My mom made this for you. She figured you'd need something to eat."

Cassie eyed the dish, and her eyes began to fill with tears. She sniffled. "Tell her thank you for me," she said. "You must be tired of holding it. Follow me," she instructed, leading the way into the kitchen. She set the oven to warm and opened it.

Wyatt slid the dish in and took off the oven mitts as Cassie closed the door. "It's one of her best," he told her. "It actually tastes better the next day."

"I'll make note of that, and I appreciate the gesture," she told him. "I can't tell you the last time I had a home-cooked meal. The last few months I've been eating either campus or hospital food, neither of which is award-winning."

"Well, you're welcome to eat at my house," Wyatt offered as they returned to the living room. "My mom's a chef, so there's always plenty to go around." When the young woman didn't respond he looked down at his sneakers. After a moment he spoke. "How are you holding up?" he asked softly.

"The last few days have been rough," she replied. She licked her lips nervously. "They've been a bit of blur, too, with funeral arrangements and everything." She sighed, shaking her head slightly as if to clear her mind of the memories of the past few days. "I never would have gotten through it without Aunt Abigail. I just wish she didn't have to go back to Salem tomorrow, but she could only get a few days off from work."

"Salem?"

"Massachusetts," Cassie explained.

"Oh." She was a witch with family in Salem, Massachusetts. Go figure. "What about your . . . " Wyatt started to ask.

"My dad?" Cassie finished his question for him. "He died when I was five. It's just me now," she said. She smiled sadly. "My father's parents died before I was born. Aunt Abigail is the only one left from that side, and she never married or had kids. My mom was an only child, and her parents died a few years ago. It's like my family is going extinct or something." The young woman turned and walked over to sit down on the couch. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I don't mean to be such a downer and lousy host."

"Don't worry about it," Wyatt said, taking a seat next to her. "I didn't come for a party. I just wanted to make sure you're okay, and tell you my family is thinking of you."

"I appreciate it." She dropped her head into her hands, breathing deeply. She lifted her head to look at her guest and ran her fingers through her hair. "I still can't believe she's gone," she whispered.

"I'm so sorry," Wyatt said. He leaned in and wrapped his arms around his charge. He felt her body stiffen at the contact, but a moment later it relaxed and she returned the embrace. He squeezed her gently.

"Thanks," Cassie whispered. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. "I promise under different circumstances I'm better comp--. What on Earth?" Her jaw dropped in shock as she pulled away from the young man, not believing her eyes.

"What is it?" Wyatt asked, concerned by the expression on his charge's face. She pointed over his shoulder and turned in his seat to see what she was referring to. A demon had shimmered into the living room. His clothing was singed and tattered around the edges, and his smile was sinister. "Stay back," he ordered. He stood up, deliberately placing himself between his charge and the demon.

"No, I thought I'd ask it to join us for tea," Cassie deadpanned.

The demon raised its hand but before it could fire the first shot, Wyatt sent it flying into the wall with a wave of his hand. He looked over his shoulder to check on his charge, but she had ignored his previous order and was making a run for it. "Cassie, no!" he shouted.

The demon, spying his target out in the open, raised a hand. He threw an energy ball towards the young woman.

"Watch out!" Wyatt warned Cassie. He held up his hands, ready to either redirect or freeze the energy ball, but found he didn't have to.

When she saw the energy ball heading her way, Cassie shrieked. She squeezed her eyes shut and held up her hands to block her face, a translucent blue shield emitting from her hands. The energy ball bounced off it, and headed straight for the demon. It shimmered out before the energy ball could make contact though, and instead it hit the wall, leaving a scorch mark.

"Whoa," Wyatt uttered under his breath. When the Elders said Cassie would have a formidable power, they weren't kidding.

Silence filled the room. Suspecting it might be safe, she slowly opened her eyes and lowered her hands. She looked around the room. She and Wyatt were alone again. "What the Hell was that?" she asked, her voice filled with disbelief. "What's going on?"

"I'm a witch, Cassie, and so are you."

Chris removed the loaf of rye from the breadbox on the counter and turned to face the center island, littered with deli meats and fixins'. He was making a sandwich to distract him from his chemistry notes when blue and white orbs appeared across from him. "Hey, Wyatt," he said, without looking up from the slice of bread he was spreading mayo on.

His brother responded with "We got company."

At this, Chris immediately looked up. "Cassie?" he asked, surprised. By his brother's tone, he was expecting a demon to shimmer in.

"Whoa," she said softly. She felt dizzy, like her insides were churning, and she was suddenly finding it terribly difficult to keep her balance.

"Here you go," Wyatt said, pulling out a kitchen chair and helping her sit down. "Are you all right?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

"I think I'm going to be sick," she replied, her complexion a pale shade of green.

Chris smiled and filled a glass with tap water. "That's a typical reaction, when someone orbs for the first time," he explained, kneeling down and handing her the glass. "Here. This should help."

Cassie took the glass from him, grateful, and began to drink. After a few sips and deep breaths, she started to get her bearings. It was then that Chris's words sank in. "Wait. You know about this?" she asked, referring to Wyatt's magic. The look on her study partner's face was all the answer she needed. "Of course you do. And you . . . do you . . . " Her voice trailed off, not quite comfortable with the words 'powers' and 'magic' just yet.

"Yeah," he replied, rising to a standing position. "It's genetic," he said, a smile playing on the corners of his mouth. There was an awkward pause, and after a few moments he decided to break the silence. "It's a lot to take in, I know."

"That's the understatement of the year," Cassie muttered under her breath.

Wyatt chuckled at his charge's frankness. When she looked at him questioningly, not understanding what he found humorous about the situation, he stifled his giggles. "Look, Cassie," he said, pulling out a chair for himself and sitting across from her. "I can only imagine how overwhelmed you're feeling, trying to sort through it all." He took one of her hands in his and gave it a comforting squeeze. "But trust me when I tell you it's very real." He took a deep breath and licked his lips before continuing. "I'm not asking anything of you. You don't have to use your power or anything. But a demon is after you, and that's serious. So, please, let me protect you."

The young woman looked at the man sitting across from her, his eyes pleading with her to agree. She took a moment to think it over. The truth was, if she hadn't seen this thing, this demon, with her own two eyes, she would have had the men in the white coats come for Wyatt. But she had seen it. And as crazy as it was, it was real. She hated to think what would've happened if she'd been alone when the creature appeared, and as long as it was still roaming out there, she wasn't safe. That much she knew. Finally, she nodded her head, letting Wyatt know she accepted his offer of protection.

"Thank you," Wyatt said, offering his charge a small smile. "You made the right choice."

"The way I see it, I didn't have much of one," Cassie said. She leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms in front of her chest. Just because she agreed to hang around didn't mean she'd have to like it.

"She's got a point there," Chris chimed in. He walked back around the center island, and resumed his sandwich making. "Any idea what kind of demon we're dealing with here?" he asked his brother.

"Well, I'd like to look in the Book to be sure, but it looked like a demonic power broker to me," Wyatt said, rising from his seat at the table and beginning to pace the length of the kitchen.

"A demonic power broker? Are you sure? Power brokers typically go after other demons. What would he want with Cassie?" Chris asked, abandoning his sandwich again as concern for his friend took over.

"I can't be sure of anything until I check the Book," Wyatt replied. "But my best guess would be he wants Cassie's power."

"What is it?" Chris asked, directing this question towards the new witch. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it. Truth was, she had no idea how she stopped that ball of light the demon threw at her, much less what the name for it was.

"Deflection," Wyatt answered for her.

Chris let out a low whistle. "Deflection. Whoa. That's major."

There was a moment's silence while the brothers let this information sink in. Their silence unnerved the woman, and she mustered up the courage to speak. "Wait. I thought you said I was a witch," she said, pointing at Wyatt. "If this demon is after me, doesn't that mean . . . I'm a demon, too?" Her voice shook as she finished her sentence.

"No. Absolutely not," Wyatt said, sitting back down again and taking her hands in his again.

"But my power . . . " Cassie started to say.

Wyatt immediately interrupted her. "It's rare, that's all. Not many witches have it. And it's powerful. You can basically stop anything that's thrown your way once it's fully developed. If evil acquired your power, it would be unstoppable."

"So the broker either wants the power for himself, or to sell it to the highest bidder," Chris added, walking to stand next to where he brother was sitting. "But that in no way implies you're evil. Nothing could be further from the truth."

"How can you be so sure?" asked Cassie, her voice filled with doubt.

"Because evil doesn't have guardian angels," Wyatt replied, offering his charge a reassuring smile. When she gave a soft smile in return, he took it as a sign to continue. "Come on," he said, standing up and pulling Cassie into a standing position as well. "We've got a demon to vanquish."

The trio moved through the house, Wyatt leading the way, until they reached the attic. It was messy as always, despite Piper's best attempts to keep it neat and clean. The boys, on the other hand, were more lax with where potion bottles and ingredients were discarded. The way they saw it, any efforts to keep the attic clean were futile, since the constant vanquishes that took place there seemed to keep it in shambles.

"Okay," Wyatt said, taking charge. "The first thing I want to do is check the book, make sure that really was a demonic power broker. Chris, we'll probably need a potion or two."

"Got it," Chris said, walking over to the table they had a cauldron set up on, browsing through the herbs left there.

"Come here, Cassie," Wyatt said, extending a hand and offering the young witch a place beside him in front of the podium. When she was next to him, he opened the Book of Shadows and began to flip through its pages. "This is the Book of Shadows. It's our family's book of spells and potions. Pretty much every magical being our family has met is in here. Do you remember what the demon looked liked?" he asked. Cassie nodded her head. "Good. Then let's look through the book and see if we can identify him."

The twosome scanned the book for several minutes before Cassie pointed to one of the illustrations, shouting "Stop! That's him."

"So what are we up against?" Chris asked, setting aside some herbs that could be used in your everyday garden-variety vanquishing potion.

"A power broker, just like I thought," Wyatt replied, the Book of Shadows opened to the entry on the demon.

"I think I'll go with two potions, then," Chris said. "One to momentarily stop the demon from using any powers he's acquired, which should give us enough time to throw the vanquishing potion."

"Chemistry major, huh?" Cassie said, walking around to stand next to Chris, arms crossed, an eyebrow raised, and her stance guarded.

"It always did come easy to me," he said, offering the skeptical girl a smile. It waned, though, when she didn't smile in return. "I guess I take after Mom," he surmised.

"Hmm." Cassie turned to the older Halliwell. "And what about you?"

"I like to think I march to the beat of my own drummer," Wyatt said thoughtfully.

"What's that supposed to mean?" the young witch asked, her tone a mixture of impatience and confusion.

"It means he has a lot of firepower, and is mostly known for flying by the seat of his pants," Chris interjected, unable to keep a slight amount of bitterness out of his voice.

Cassie exhaled loudly and dropped her head to stare at the floor. This was all too much to take in. What was she doing here? How could she be a witch? And how could her mother have not told her? It was so overwhelming, like a wave crashing down, almost pulling her under. She quickly walked over to the old Victorian couch and sat down, putting her head between her knees.

"Are you okay?" Wyatt asked. He quickly crossed the attic and sat down next to her, rubbing her back in soothing circles.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," she replied, returning to an upright position. She closed her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair. She had so many questions to ask and she didn't know where to start. Finally she decided to go with the one that had been weighing on her mind since the demon appeared in her living room. "How long have you known? About me, that is."

"That you're a witch?" Wyatt asked. When Cassie nodded her head he continued. "Since this morning. I've known for a few days that a witch would be coming into her powers, but I didn't know it was you until this morning."

"Did you know that demon was going to attack? Is that why you showed up at my condo with a casserole?"

"No, to both questions." The young Whitelighter took a moment to collect his thoughts before explaining his actions. "The Halliwells . . . " he sighed. "Let me put it this way, we know what it's like to lose family members, especially my mom. We just wanted to be there for you, make sure you were okay. It was a coincidence that I was there when the demon appeared, although it's lucky that I was."

"How so? He could've had my powers. I don't want them," Cassie said defiantly.

"The thing is, he'd have to kill you in order to get them," Wyatt explained.

"Oh," Cassie said, looking at her lap. "So I'm going to be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life now? Running from demons?"

"Hey," Wyatt said, placing his fingers under his charge's chin, raising her head so he could look her in the eye. "There is so much more to being a witch. It's a gift. Your powers are a gift, passed down from your mother, and probably for generations. It's a legacy you've been asked to continue, to protect the innocent from evil."

"And while I'm protecting the innocent, who is protecting me?"

"That's where I come in," Wyatt replied. "As your Whitelighter, I'm here to guide, protect, and heal you."

"Heal me?" Cassie's voice was filled with surprise.

"Yes, but only magical injuries," he quickly added. "I can't cure colds or anything like that."

"I see." Cassie stood up and began to pace the attic. This was all too much. "How much longer do I have to hide out here?"

"Until the demon comes," Chris answered, adding a final ingredient to the vanquishing potion. A plume of smoke rose from the cauldron. "Well, the vanquish potion is done," he announced. He used a turkey baster to fill a vial with his concoction. "I just need another minute and the other potion will be done, too." He walked up to where his friend was pacing, and placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her. "Here," he said, handing her the vial.

"What's this for?" she asked, looking at the vial in her hand.

"After I throw the binding potion at the demon, you throw this one. He'll blow up, and we'll be free to continue with our day. I got a chem exam to study for," he said, filling up the last vial with the other potion.

"You can do this, Cassie," Wyatt said, moving to stand behind her and placing a hand on her shoulder.

She looked down at the vial in her hand again. "If you're sure . . ."

"All set," Chris said, holding up the filled vial. "Now all we need--"

But the young man never got to finish that sentence. The power broker demon shimmered in at that exact moment, and when he saw the vial in the young man's hand, he threw an energy ball at him. Upon impact, Chris flew up into the air and across the room, the potion vial smashing onto the floor.

"No!" Wyatt shouted. He looked at the table, a plume of smoke still rising from his brother's binding potion. With a wave of his arm, the entire cauldron flew at the demon, dumping the entire contents on him. "Now, Cassie!"

With fear in her eyes the young woman looked at her friend, lying on the floor unconscious. She turned to face the demon, the resolve set in her face. She gritted her teeth and threw the potion. Upon impact, the demon erupted into flames, leaving a scorch mark on the floor. "Chris!" Cassie shouted, running over to him when it was over. She placed two fingers on his neck. "He has a pulse."

Wyatt was immediately at his brother's side. He placed his hands over him and a soft, yellow glow appeared. After a few minutes, the glow disappeared and Chris's eyes slowly opened. "How do you feel?" Wyatt asked.

"Ugh. Like I've been hit with an energy ball," Chris replied, struggling to sit up. Cassie helped him, and at her touch he asked her, "Did we get the demon?"

"Yeah," Wyatt replied, studying his brother to make sure he was, in fact, all right. "We got him."

"Congratulations on your first vanquish," Chris said to Cassie, offering her a small smile.

"You did good," Wyatt added.

"Yeah, well, then how come I don't feel so good?" she asked. And before either boy could respond, she stood up and ran out of the attic.

"Aunt Abigail, how well did you know my mother?" Cassie asked the older woman. Since Catherine Cole had passed away, her sister-in-law had been staying at the condo. She had flown in from the east coast to spend time with and comfort the new orphan. The two were cleaning up from dinner when Cassie asked her question.

"As well as anybody," Abigail responded, looking at her niece questioningly. "Why do you ask?"

"I don't know," Cassie replied, picking the folded dishtowel up off the counter and shaking it out. She removed a dinner plate from dish drain and began to dry it. "I just wonder . . . if there was anything I didn't know about her. Anything she didn't get to tell me. These last few months, everything we discussed was medical. I'm afraid that'll be all I remember of her, her illness, instead of the person she was."

"Oh, I doubt that," Abigail assured her, putting an arm around her niece and giving her shoulder a comforting squeeze. "All you have to do is look in the mirror to know what kind of person your mother was. She raised you to be strong, thoughtful, smart, and caring, just like she was." The older woman tilted her head to the side, deep in thought. Slowly, a smile appeared on her face. "Of course, there is one other little thing."

"Oh?" Cassie prompted, trying her hardest to sound nonchalant.

"You must like to suffer, to become a Red Sox fan like your parents were," Abigail said, chuckling. She wasn't much of a baseball fan, but her brother and sister-in-law were. In fact, they met at a game. And year after year, they spent October lamenting another loss, pinning their hopes on 'next year.' "It's like some form of cruel punishment, to root for them and not see them win in your lifetime."

"Hey!" Cassie said in mock indignation. "They won in 2004," she defended her team.

"Yeah, and they haven't been to a World Series since. Besides, that hardly counts, dear. You were an infant."

"Details, details," Cassie said, smiling her first genuine smile since her mother passed away.

A knock at the door interrupted their banter. "I'll get it," Aunt Abigail offered, heading for the door. "Who is it?" she asked.

"It's Wyatt. Is Cassie there?"

"I got it Aunt Abigail," Cassie said, before the older woman could open the door. She dropped the dishtowel and headed for the door. "Why don't you go finish packing?" she suggested, grabbing a hold of the doorknob.

Abigail gave her niece the once-over. Something was definitely up. Against her better judgment she decided to let the young woman handle it. She nodded then retreated to her sister-in-law's bedroom to pack her suitcase.

When Cassie was sure her aunt was out of earshot, she opened the door. "What do you want?" she asked, not even trying to hide the disdain in her voice.

Wyatt's jaw dropped in shock. This was not the reaction he was expecting. Sure, he figured she'd be upset from the vanquish and Chris getting injured. But he didn't figure some of her anger and reluctance would be directed at him. "I just wanted to check up on you, make sure you were okay."

"Well, there haven't been any other attacks, if that's what you're getting at."

"Actually, it's not." When she didn't make a move to open the door further or invite him in he asked, "May I come in?"

"No, I'd rather you didn't. I think one visit from you is about all I can handle." She leaned against the door jam, arms crossed, letting her caller know he would not be crossing the threshold tonight, or maybe ever again.

Wyatt sighed. "Look, Cassie--"

"No, save it," she instructed, holding up a hand to interrupt him. "I did what I had to do; the demon is gone and I let you protect me. But it's over, and so is all of this witch nonsense. In case you haven't noticed, I buried my mother today, and now you want me to do something that could land me right next to her. And I just can't. You and your brother may get some sort of kick out it, but it's not for me. So why don't you guide and protect someone else?"

And with those words Cassie closed the door, shutting Wyatt Halliwell out of her condo, and hopefully out of her life as well.

Author's Note: That's it! Please let me know what you think and submit a review. :-)