Charmed: Elizabeth Turner

by Brenna's Urbangirl Projects

Born with a sense of otherness, Elizabeth 'Buffy' Turner navigates her dual nature as a half-demon alongside her brother Cole, training rigorously to harness her powers while yearning for a life beyond servitude to the dark forces shaping their destiny.

1. Chapter 1: All Halliwell's Eve

Summary: Born with a sense of otherness, Elizabeth 'Buffy' Turner navigates her dual nature as a half-demon alongside her brother Cole, training rigorously to harness her powers while yearning for a life beyond servitude to the dark forces shaping their destiny.

Disclaimer: Disney owns Buffy the Vampire Slayer. CBS owns Charmed.

A/U: Starts in Buffy season 2 and Charmed season 3

Pairing: Cole/Phoebe. Buffy/Undecided

Author's Note: Debating Faith for Buffy's pairing. Also the title is tentative. If anyone has a suggestion for a title, I'm open to hearing them.

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Chapter 1: All Halliwell's Eve

Elizabeth 'Buffy' Turner had been born in 1880, five years before her brother Cole. From the moment she took her first breath, a sense of otherness wrapped around her like a shroud. As a child, Buffy would often sit by her bedroom window, gazing at the night sky, feeling a gnawing sensation in her gut that she couldn't quite place. It was a constant companion, a reminder that she was not like the other children who played in the sun-dappled meadows and whispered secrets under the shade of ancient oak trees. There was something more to her, something that set her apart in a way that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

Buffy had inherited her mother's striking beauty—golden hair that shimmered in the sunlight and piercing blue eyes that seemed to see straight into one's soul. But beneath that angelic exterior lay a power she did not fully understand, a power that marked her as different. The feeling of being different only intensified as she grew older, her awareness of the supernatural world blossoming with each passing year. Her parents' whispered conversations and her mother's worried glances only deepened her sense of isolation.

As a half-demon like her brother, Buffy's upbringing was anything but ordinary. Their mother, a powerful demon in service to the Source, had high expectations for his children. Training began early, and Buffy was taught to harness the dark energy that flowed through her veins. She learned to control her demonic abilities, to shape them into weapons and shields. Every lesson was a step closer to serving the Source, the ultimate power in the underworld.

Buffy's training was rigorous, filled with nights spent honing her skills in secret chambers lit by the flickering light of torches. Her mother's stern voice echoed in her ears as he drilled her in the arts of combat and magic, pushing her to the brink of exhaustion. She learned to fight with a precision and ferocity that belied her delicate appearance. Her brother Cole, born five years after her, followed in her footsteps, sharing the burden of their heritage.

Despite the relentless training, Buffy could never shake the feeling that she was meant for something more than serving the Source. The gnawing sensation in her gut persisted, a constant reminder that her destiny was not solely tied to the darkness. She often found solace in the quiet moments she shared with Cole; their bond unbreakable despite the harsh realities of their existence. Together, they would whisper dreams of a different life, one where they could be free from the expectations and demands of their lineage.

Buffy's life was a delicate balance between the light and dark within her. She navigated the treacherous path laid out before her, always aware of the danger that lurked in the shadows. Her training to serve the Source was not just about power and control; it was about survival. In a world where betrayal and death were constant threats, Buffy knew she had to be strong, not just for herself, but for Cole as well. She vowed to protect him, to shield him from the worst of their mother's wrath, even if it meant sacrificing her own happiness.

Then it happened. Buffy had just turned 116 years old when she felt it. It was like a rushing wind, a hammer blow, a slap, an embrace, true love, and sure death all at once. The sensations overwhelmed her, leaving her breathless and reeling. Knowledge suddenly coursed through her mind, vivid and undeniable, filling her with a certainty of what she was becoming. Her heart pounded as the truth settled in: she was the Slayer, the chosen one destined to battle the forces of darkness.

"What's happening to me?" Buffy whispered; her voice barely audible over the storm of emotions raging within her. "Cole?" she said, glancing at her brother with wide, frightened eyes. They sat in their personal space within the Underworld, a hidden sanctuary where they could escape the prying eyes and endless demands of their demonic kin.

Cole turned to her; concern etched on his face. "What is it, Elizabeth?" he asked. Despite Buffy's preference to be called by her nickname, Cole always called her by her full name, a habit that reminded her of the bond they shared since childhood.

Buffy swallowed hard; her throat tight with anxiety. "I think we have a problem," she said, her voice trembling. "Something the Source won't like. My human half... it was just called as the Slayer."

For a moment, there was silence. Cole's deep frown creased his brow as he processed her words. He understood better than anyone what would happen if the Source found out that a demon now straddled the fence between evil and good. The balance of power would shift, and Buffy would become a target. The Source would see her as a threat, an anomaly that needed to be eliminated or controlled.

Cole's mind raced, weighing their options. He knew they had to act quickly. "We can't let the Source find out," he said, his voice firm and resolute. "We need to hide you."

"But where?" Buffy asked, her eyes pleading. She trusted her brother implicitly, knowing he would do anything to protect her. But the Underworld was vast, and their enemies were many.

Then Cole had a thought, a spark of inspiration born from desperation. "Among mortals," he said, his eyes lighting up with a plan. "We'll hide you among a mortal family and cast a spell to ensure they believe you're their daughter. It's the perfect cover. The Source would never think to look for you there."

Buffy stared at him, a mixture of hope and fear in her eyes. "Do you really think it will work?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"It has to," Cole replied, determination hardening his features. "We'll make it work. I'll find the right family, and I'll cast the spell myself. No one will ever know." He reached out and took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Trust me, Elizabeth. We'll get through this. Together."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

It had been a year and a half since Buffy had gone into hiding. Not long after Cole placed her with the Summers family, Buffy had faced the master vampire, Lothos, in a brutal and harrowing battle that left her both physically and emotionally scarred. The aftermath of that confrontation led to her being expelled from Hemery High School in Los Angeles. Determined to start anew and protect her daughter from further harm, Joyce Summers moved herself and Buffy to the quiet, seemingly unremarkable town of Sunnydale.

Sunnydale offered a semblance of peace and anonymity. To Buffy's relief, the town was devoid of upper-level demons who might recognize her true identity as Nyxara. This respite from the constant threat of discovery allowed Buffy to lower her guard, if only slightly, and attempt to live a semblance of a normal teenage life.

To her surprise, Buffy found herself forming bonds of friendship that she had never anticipated. She met Xander Harris, a mortal with a heart full of loyalty and a penchant for humor that could lighten even the darkest of days. Alongside Xander was Willy Rosenberg, a witch progenitor whose burgeoning magical abilities fascinated and comforted Buffy, reminding her that not all supernatural beings were to be feared.

Together, they navigated the strange and often dangerous world that Sunnydale hid beneath its sleepy exterior. It was with their support that Buffy confronted and ultimately defeated Joseph Nest, also known as the Master. This ancient and formidable vampire had long terrorized the Hellmouth, and his defeat marked a significant victory not just for Buffy, but for the entire town.

The battle against the Master had been fierce. Buffy remembered the chill of the underground lair, the oppressive darkness, and the malevolent glee in the Master's eyes as he tried to crush her spirit. But drawing on her inner strength, the training she received from Cole, and the newfound courage inspired by her friends, Buffy emerged victorious. The Master's defeat was a pivotal moment, one that solidified her role as the Slayer while also reinforcing her determination to protect her human identity from the ever-present threat of exposure.

Despite the constant danger and the burden of her dual heritage, Buffy found solace in her new life. Her friendships with Xander and Willy became her anchors, grounding her in the human world she so desperately wanted to protect. She continued to train in secret, honing her skills and preparing for the inevitable battles that lay ahead, all while maintaining the façade of a typical high school student.

One day Cole came to Buffy with news. The Source had given him an assignment, to kill a set of witches known as the Charmed Ones.

One day, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the quiet town of Sunnydale, Cole appeared at Buffy's doorstep with a grim expression. His presence was a rare and unexpected occurrence, as he had taken great care to keep his visits infrequent to avoid arousing suspicion. Buffy, sensing the urgency in his demeanor, ushered him inside their modest home with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

They settled in the dimly lit living room, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken tension. Cole's eyes, usually filled with warmth when he looked at his sister, were now clouded with worry and determination. Buffy felt a knot of anxiety tighten in her stomach as she waited for him to speak.

"Elizabeth," he began, using her full name as he always did, his voice low and serious, "I have news. The Source has given me a new assignment."

Buffy's heart skipped a beat. She knew that any task assigned by the Source was bound to be dangerous, and she feared what it might mean for her brother. "What is it?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Cole took a deep breath, his gaze locking onto hers. "I've been ordered to kill a set of witches known as the Charmed Ones."

A stunned silence followed his words. Buffy's mind raced, trying to process the enormity of the situation. The Charmed Ones were legendary, their power and influence well-known even in the Underworld. They were a formidable trio, destined to protect the world from evil. For the Source to target them meant that their threat to the demonic hierarchy was substantial.

"But why?" Buffy asked, her voice filled with both confusion and concern. "Why would the Source want them dead?"

Cole shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "Because they represent everything the Source fears—goodness, unity, and an unparalleled strength that could disrupt his plans. They're a beacon of hope, and hope is dangerous in the Underworld."

Buffy's mind continued to whirl. She understood the perilous position her brother was in. Refusing the Source's orders could spell his doom, yet following through would place him directly in the path of three of the most powerful witches in existence.

She knew Cole's allegiance to the Source was unwavering, his loyalty etched deep within his demon soul. Unlike her, he didn't straddle the line between good and evil—except when it came to protecting her.

October 31, 1997 – Friday

Halliwell Manor

Phoebe checked her makeup in a compact mirror, adjusting her Elvira costume—a sleek black dress and a matching wig that cascaded in waves around her shoulders. She grinned mischievously at her reflection, embodying the persona of the mistress of the dark with theatrical flair.

Prue entered the room, carefully balancing a bowl of candy on the foyer table, the scent of sweet treats mingling with the excitement of Halloween night. Her own costume was a striking ensemble: a flowing black dress that swept the floor, adorned with delicate butterflies that shimmered in the soft light.

Piper descended the stairs next, her costume transforming her into Glenda, the beloved good witch from the Wizard of Oz. She wore a fluffy pink dress that billowed with every step, complemented by a blonde wig styled into gentle curls that framed her face with ethereal grace.

Leo joined them, his attire a nostalgic nod to history in an old World War II army uniform. The uniform spoke of duty and valor, contrasting with the whimsical and fantastical characters around him.

"Alright, people, let's go. I was supposed to be at the club a half an hour ago," Piper announced with a hint of urgency, checking her watch impatiently as she rounded up her sisters and Leo.

Prue, with a playful glint in her eye, couldn't resist teasing Piper about her choice of costume. "Hey, are you a good witch or a bad witch?" she quipped, a smile tugging at her lips.

Piper chuckled softly, shaking her head at Prue's jest. "I'm going to be a very good witch from now on," she replied with determination, her voice laced with sincerity.

Prue raised an eyebrow teasingly. "And you picked a role model that wears lots and lots of pink?" she asked, unable to resist pushing the joke further.

Piper nodded with a gentle smile. "Yes," she affirmed, her tone indicating that she had made peace with her decision.

Leo, ever the voice of reason, interjected with a question. "Glenda helped innocents, didn't she?" he asked, seeking confirmation.

Piper nodded again; her expression thoughtful. "Yes," she repeated, her conviction evident in her voice as she reflected on her newfound path.

Phoebe, always quick-witted and ready to challenge, couldn't resist pointing out a flaw in Piper's reasoning. "You had the answer all along? That's not help, that's mind games," she teased lightly, her words carrying a playful edge.

"I'm not going to let you spoil my new attitude. I'm going to celebrate the witches' holiday with enthusiasm," Piper declared firmly, her determination evident as she stood in the center of the living room, surrounded by her sisters and Leo.

Phoebe, always quick with a thought-provoking comment, chimed in with her trademark wit. "The only problem is you never really know what you're celebrating when you celebrate Halloween," she remarked, her tone thoughtful yet teasing.

"Details," Piper dismissed lightly, already looking ahead. "Where's Darryl?" she asked, shifting her focus to practical matters.

"He's in the kitchen on the phone," Prue replied, her gaze following Piper and Leo as they made their way towards the kitchen.

Phoebe, ever the provocateur, intercepted them with a cardboard cutout in hand. "Hook-nosed hags riding broomsticks," she declared, halting their departure. "That's what we're celebrating. Personally, I am offended by the representation of witches in popular culture."

Piper rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Right, which is why you're dressed as the mistress of the dark," she retorted playfully, gesturing towards Phoebe's elaborate costume.

"This costume happens to be a protest statement," Phoebe countered with sarcastic amusement, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

"I am so impressed that you can make a protest statement and show cleavage all at the same time," Prue interjected, a hint of admiration in her voice as she joined in the banter.

Phoebe grinned, clearly pleased with herself. "Thanks," she replied, her tone teasing yet appreciative of Prue's compliment.

"Amazing," Prue added with a chuckle, shaking her head in mock disbelief at her sister's ability to blend protest with flair.

Streets of San Francisco

Children in costumes roamed the neighborhood, their laughter echoing through the crisp autumn air as they went from house to house, collecting treats. Among them, two grimlocks, their monstrous forms disguised under the guise of Halloween revelry, strolled casually along the sidewalk. A young boy spotted them and, enthused by their elaborate costumes, dashed over to greet them.

"Hey, hey, cool costumes, dudes," the kid exclaimed, his eyes wide with admiration.

One of the grimlocks extended a hand, and a swirling blue light enveloped the boy's eyes just as Cole materialized next to them in a shimmer of dark energy. "What the hell are you doing?" Cole demanded; his voice edged with authority.

"Belthazor?" the Grimlock queried, a hint of recognition coloring its gravelly voice.

"Ah-ah-ah-ah. I use the name Cole here. Let him go," Cole commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Reluctantly, the Grimlock released the boy, who promptly took off running. "We don't need him, not to get the Charmed Ones," the other Grimlock muttered darkly.

"My next question, didn't they already get you two years ago?" Cole inquired sharply, his gaze flicking between the two grimlocks.

"Yeah, but it's Halloween," the first Grimlock replied, a chilling edge to its voice. "When the veil between worlds thins. When the demons that know how can return to seek their revenge."

"I know," Cole acknowledged grimly. "Which is why I have a different plan for the witches. One that doesn't include you. One that's been approved by the Triad."

"We don't answer to anyone anymore," the first Grimlock retorted defiantly. "We're dead."

"There's dead... and there's dead," Cole countered coolly, his expression hardening. "Fine, I'll just move up my timetable." With that, he shimmered out of sight

Summers Home

Buffy was getting ready for the volunteer program at school, meticulously adjusting the layers of the red 18th-century ballgown she had chosen for the occasion. Principal Snyder had wrangled her, Xander, and Willow into taking trick-or-treaters around Sunnydale, and while Buffy was less than thrilled about it, she was determined to make the best of the situation.

Her room was a whirlwind of discarded costume pieces and Halloween decorations. Buffy checked her reflection in the mirror, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles in the luxurious fabric. The dress was a rich crimson, its bodice adorned with intricate lace and delicate embroidery. The full skirt rustled softly with her movements, evoking a bygone era of elegance and opulence.

Suddenly, Cole shimmered into the center of her room. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of his sister, transformed into a vision from centuries past. "Why are you wearing that?" he asked, a note of incredulity in his voice as he gestured to the elaborate gown.

Buffy turned to face him, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "It's Halloween. Part of me pretending to be a high school student got me wrangled into taking a bunch of mortal kids trick-or-treating," she replied, her tone light but with a hint of exasperation.

Cole's gaze narrowed slightly, suspicion flickering in his eyes. "Why that particular dress?" he pressed, knowing there was always a reason behind Buffy's choices.

Buffy sighed, her eyes softening as she thought of Angel. "I'm wearing it because of Angel. He's a vampire who was turned in the mid-1700s. I just felt like being a fancy noblewoman that he might have been interested in back then," she explained, her voice tinged with a mix of nostalgia and longing.

Cole studied her for a moment, the protective brother in him surfacing. "Buffy, you know how dangerous it is to get involved with vampires, especially when you are supposed to be in hiding," he cautioned, his concern evident.

Buffy nodded, understanding Cole's worry. "I know, Cole. But Angel... he's different. He has a soul now. He's not like other vampires," she insisted, her voice earnest.

"Just be careful, okay?" Cole implored, his voice softening. "We can't afford any slip-ups, especially not tonight."

Buffy nodded again, her expression serious as she met her brother's gaze. "I will," she promised firmly, her voice a quiet resolve tinged with determination. She understood the risks involved in her choices, but she also couldn't deny herself the opportunity to connect with someone who shared her unique perspective on the world.

"Now, you should go before anyone sees you," she urged gently, aware of the delicate balance they maintained in their secretive lives.

"I can't," Cole replied, his tone strained. He glanced around the room, his eyes darting as if the very walls might betray their conversation. "While the Source doesn't know you are with mortals or that your human half is the Slayer, I've had to tell him and the Triad that you're undercover here."

Buffy's brow furrowed in concern, sensing the gravity of Cole's words. "What do you mean?"

"I have a plan for the Charmed Ones," Cole continued, his voice low. "A plan the Triad approved, but with one condition. They want you to help me. We're going back in time to ensure the Halliwell line is turned evil, thereby ending the threat posed by the Charmed Ones."

Buffy's breath caught in her throat at the revelation. Time travel was risky, and meddling with the past had consequences she couldn't fully comprehend. Yet, she also knew the Triad's demands left little room for refusal, especially when the fate of their world hung in the balance.

"Cole, this sounds dangerous," she replied, her voice filled with apprehension. "And manipulating someone's destiny... it goes against everything I stand for."

"I know," Cole admitted quietly, his gaze troubled. "But if we don't act, the Charmed Ones will continue to thwart the Source's plans. The Source sees this as a chance to ensure our supremacy."

Buffy's mind raced, torn between her duty as a Slayer, sworn to protect humanity from supernatural threats, and her instincts as a demon, a legacy she could never fully escape. As a Slayer, she was bound by a solemn oath to defend the innocent and uphold the balance between good and evil. Yet, her demon heritage whispered in the depths of her soul, reminding her of the power and darkness that coursed through her veins.

Buffy sighed heavily, the weight of her predicament settling like a stone in her chest. She knew she didn't have a choice. If the Source discovered that her human side had been called as the Slayer, he would see her as a threat to be eliminated. The mere thought sent a chill down her spine, knowing that bounty hunters could be dispatched to track her down, her life hanging by a precarious thread.

Reluctantly, she accepted the grim reality before her. She would have to help Cole.

Halliwell Manor

"Ooh—ooh, I want to take a picture of all of us first, but I have to get my broomstick," Prue said, excitement bubbling in her voice as she hurried off to fetch her camera and the broomstick.

Phoebe rolled her eyes playfully. "Cliché!" she exclaimed with a teasing grin, watching Prue dart away with a mix of amusement and fond exasperation.

"Come on guys, hurry up," Piper urged, a hint of impatience in her tone, glancing at the clock on the wall as the doorbell rang impatiently.

Phoebe made her way to the door and swung it open, fully expecting to find eager children dressed in costumes, ready for treats. Instead, she was met with a surreal sight—the Grimlocks stood on their front porch, their eerie presence sending a shiver down her spine.

"Trick or treat?" one of the Grimlocks intoned, his voice unnervingly hollow as they held out their hands, an unsettling glimmer in their eyes.

Phoebe's initial reaction was one of surreal disbelief, a nervous smile tugging at her lips. "Oh my god, that is so weird," she managed to say, her voice wavering slightly as she tried to process the bizarre coincidence. "They look just like the grim—" Her words trailed off abruptly as an unseen force gripped her throat, cutting off her breath with shocking suddenness.

Piper, standing just behind Phoebe, gasped in alarm as she too felt the invisible hands tighten around her neck, choking off her words and leaving her struggling for air. Panic flickered in her eyes as she realized the Grimlocks were not here for candy—they were here for something far more sinister.

"Uh-oh," Leo muttered, his eyes flicking upward as he heard the unmistakable call from the Elders.

"Uh-oh, what?" Darryl questioned, his brows knitting in concern as he glanced at the Whitelighter, sensing the gravity of Leo's reaction.

"Piper?" Leo's voice rose with urgency as he bolted from the kitchen, Darryl close on his heels. They hurried through the dining room, their footsteps echoing in their rush, and burst into the foyer.

Prue raced into the foyer from another direction. "Oh!" she gasped as her hand shot out, palm forward. With a swift motion, she directed a powerful wave of kinetic energy at the Grimlocks, sending them hurtling through the air and crashing into the living room furniture. The magical grip around Piper and Phoebe loosened, freeing them from the Grimlocks' strangling hold.

"Didn't we already vanquish them?" Phoebe questioned, her brow furrowed in confusion as she looked between Leo and Prue.

"I didn't know," Leo admitted with a shake of his head, his concern deepening as he surveyed his charges. "But that's not what I wanted to warn you about."

"What do you mean?" Prue demanded, her gaze darting to Leo just as a swirling vortex began to materialize behind the Halliwells, its ominous presence drawing their attention like a magnet.

"That's what I wanted to warn you about," Leo clarified urgently, motioning toward the swirling portal.

"Oh," Prue exclaimed softly, her heart sinking as she, Piper, and Phoebe moved closer to peer into the swirling depths of the vortex.

"Look out!" Phoebe suddenly cried out, spotting the Grimlocks emerging once more into the foyer from the living room.

Reacting swiftly, Piper raised her hand, her will channeling through her as she froze the Grimlocks in place with a flick of her wrist. "Leo, what the hell is..." she began, her voice tinged with frustration and fear, but before she could finish her sentence, a sudden, powerful suction gripped her, Prue, and Phoebe. They were pulled into the vortex with irresistible force, their bodies disappearing into the swirling abyss.

The vortex closed behind them with a deafening rush of wind, leaving nothing but their discarded wigs fluttering to the ground in the now eerily quiet foyer.

October 31, 1670 – Friday

Jamestown, Virginia

Prue, Piper, and Phoebe emerged from the swirling vortex with a disorienting rush, landing unsteadily beside what appeared to be a witch's altar. The room around them was dimly lit by the flickering glow of numerous candles arranged in a circle, casting dancing shadows on the walls adorned with ancient symbols and mystical sigils.

"Is everybody okay?" Prue inquired, her voice steady but filled with concern as she quickly surveyed Phoebe and Piper for any signs of injury or distress.

"Too soon to tell," Phoebe admitted, her hand instinctively reaching up to rub her forehead, a gesture of unease as she took in their unfamiliar surroundings.

"Did the Grimlocks do this?" Piper asked, her brow furrowed in puzzlement as she scanned the arcane decorations adorning the chamber.

"Uh, unless we're dead and this is the hereafter," Prue quipped dryly, her gaze sweeping over the mysterious altar and the room beyond it. "I don't think so."

"Eternally Elvira, yecch," Phoebe muttered under her breath with a grimace, her distaste evident as she glanced around.

Prue stepped forward toward the altar, her curiosity piqued despite the unsettling circumstances. "Alright, uh, so this sort of looks like an altar," she observed aloud, her voice echoing slightly in the quiet chamber as she circled the ancient stone structure, inspecting it from every angle.

The altar itself was a marvel of ancient craftsmanship, adorned with intricate carvings and small niches that seemed designed to hold offerings or sacred relics. The candles surrounding it burned with a steady, unwavering flame, their light casting a warm glow that contrasted sharply with the cool, shadowy corners of the room. Symbols etched into the walls pulsed faintly with mystical energy, their meanings lost to time but resonating with power that Prue could sense tingling in the air.

"A witch's altar," Piper remarked with a mixture of fascination and apprehension as she traced her fingers over the weathered stone surface, taking in the intricate carvings and the faint scent of ancient herbs that lingered in the air. "What's going on?" she questioned aloud, her voice tinged with concern as her eyes flicked nervously to area around them, now disrupted by the sudden appearance of armed men on horseback and on foot charging toward them with hostile intent.

"There they are!" one of the men shouted, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "Kill the witches!" another cried out, his words laced with fervent determination to eliminate what they perceived as a threat.

Phoebe scowled deeply, her gaze narrowing with frustration as she turned to Piper. "Oh, you had to ask," she sighed ruefully, her tone a mix of sarcasm and resignation in the face of imminent danger.

"Not good, not good, not good," Piper grumbled under her breath, her mind racing with thoughts of escape as she assessed their grim situation. "Flee!" she urged, her words a sharp command as adrenaline surged through her veins. "We're not in Kansas anymore," she muttered wryly, a touch of dark humor in her voice as she and her sisters dashed for cover amidst the thick brush that surrounded the clearing. They moved swiftly; their footsteps muffled by the underbrush as they desperately sought refuge from their pursuers.

They managed to evade the approaching men by a hair's breadth, pressing themselves flat against the dense foliage as the group of armed assailants passed by, their shouts fading into the distance.

"Don't tell me we've time-traveled again," Piper grumbled in frustration, her voice barely above a whisper as she watched the men scour the area, their torches casting flickering shadows in the encroaching darkness. "I hate time traveling."

"You do?" Phoebe queried, raising an eyebrow at her middle sister with a mixture of curiosity and amusement despite the dire circumstances. "Remember when I was burned at the stake the second time that we time-traveled?" she added dryly, the memory of past temporal misadventures still vivid in her mind.

"Alright," Prue said, her voice calm yet commanding as she raised her hands, signaling an end to the discussion. "Let's try to avoid that happening again. From what they're wearing, it appears to be between the 1600s and the 1700s."

"Where the average witch's life expectancy is, what, fifteen minutes?" Phoebe quipped with a touch of dark humor, her eyes scanning their surroundings warily as a nearby shrub rustled unexpectedly.

The sisters turned sharply at the sound, their hearts racing as they were caught off guard by the presence of one of the men emerging from the foliage. Instinctively, Piper moved to freeze him in his tracks, but Prue's firm grip on her hands stopped her mid-motion.

"Find anything, Micah?" one of the other men called out, their voices carrying through the still night air with an edge of suspicion.

Micah, his gaze fixed squarely on the three women before him, hesitated for a moment, assessing the situation with a furrowed brow. "No, nothing here," he replied tersely, his tone betraying none of the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. "Ride on."

"Ride on, men," another voice commanded, the urgency palpable as the group prepared to move on, their footsteps echoing faintly on the uneven ground.

As Micah lingered a moment longer, his finger pressed to his lips in a hasty gesture of silence, Piper shot Prue a questioning look. "Hi. Why didn't you let me freeze him?" she whispered urgently after Micah had left, her frustration evident in the tight set of her jaw.

"I don't know, there was just something..." Prue began, her voice trailing off as she watched Micah retreat swiftly to rejoin his companions, disappearing into the night with practiced stealth.

"You know what?" Piper interrupted tersely; her patience worn thin by their predicament. After ensuring the coast was clear and the men were out of earshot, she continued, "I don't care why we're here or how we got here." Stepping out from the concealing brush, she scanned their surroundings with a determined gaze. "All I want to do is get home. I've got a life to live and decorations to hang, so where the hell is the damn vortex?" she demanded, her frustration boiling over.

No sooner had Piper voiced her fervent desire to find a way back to their own time than they were startled by an unexpected approach. Without warning, figures emerged from the shadows, swiftly enveloping them in sacks that blocked out the world with suffocating darkness.

Eva's Cave

When the sacks were finally removed from their heads, Prue, Piper, and Phoebe found themselves blinking in the dim light of a cavern. The air was cool and musty, echoing faintly with the drip of water from stalactites above.

Before them, a woman dressed in simple, earth-toned garments curtsied respectfully. "Blessed be," she greeted them, her voice filled with reverence. "Our prayers were answered. We need your help."

Piper, Phoebe, and Prue exchanged puzzled glances, their confusion evident. "Excuse me?" Prue spoke up, her brow furrowing in disbelief.

"Please forgive me for the manner in which you were brought here," the woman continued earnestly, her eyes flickering with urgency. "But we needed to ensure that you were the people we had sent for. If you were evil, this doorway would have informed us." She gestured towards the cave's entrance, where an intricate symbol glowed faintly in the rock, its purpose mysterious yet clearly significant.

"Huh, where can we get one of those?" Piper interjected with a hint of sarcasm, her skepticism evident in her tone.

Prue focused her gaze squarely on the woman. "Alright, wait, uh, who do you think we are?" she asked cautiously, trying to make sense of the unfolding situation.

The woman's expression softened with a mix of awe and hope. "The most powerful good witches of all time, of course," she replied without hesitation, her belief unwavering.

"Okay, lucky guess," Phoebe admitted with a small smile, her curiosity piqued despite the surreal circumstances. The prospect of being revered as powerful witches was both flattering and disconcerting, especially in this unfamiliar time and place.

"And you are?" Prue inquired, her voice steady as she surveyed the woman and her coven gathered in the cave.

The woman grinned warmly, her eyes shining with determination. "My name is Eva. I'm a midwife, a witch, and a free citizen of Virginia," she introduced herself proudly, her words echoing with a hint of defiance against the constraints of her time. She waved a hand gracefully towards the other women gathered around, their faces a mixture of hope and urgency. "These good women are my coven. Come. We don't have much time left."

Eva and her coven swiftly moved into action, each woman bustling with purpose. They approached Prue, Piper, and Phoebe, each bearing a dress that blended seamlessly with the era. "No one can suspect you've come from the future," Eva explained softly as she handed them each a gown. "Witches must not have to hide in your time. What year are you from?"

"Uh, 1998," Piper confessed reluctantly, her mind racing to comprehend the centuries that separated them from their familiar world. "What year is it right now?"

"1670," Eva replied calmly, though the urgency in her voice belied the calm facade. The implications of the time difference were stark, each Halliwell realizing they were deeper into history than ever before.

Phoebe's eyes widened in astonishment, absorbing the weight of their predicament. "Oh," she murmured softly, exchanging glances with her sisters. This journey through time was unprecedented, fraught with unknown dangers and responsibilities.

"Okay, so why do you need our help?" Prue asked, her tone firm yet tinged with curiosity.

"To save a magical baby who's prophesied to be born tonight," Eva revealed, her voice grave with concern. "A dark practitioner has abducted the baby's mother with the intention of raising the child to embrace evil. If this happens, good magic will never thrive in the new world. You must rescue Charlotte and bring her here so that we can deliver her baby within our protective circle."

Piper smirked with determination, her mind already formulating plans. "Save it from who?" she pressed; her voice sharp with resolve.

"A dark practitioner," Eva clarified, her gaze unwavering. "She's steeped in dark magic and will stop at nothing to fulfill her twisted ambitions. Time is against us. Will you help us save this child and protect the future of magic?"

"Wait a minute, you have the power to transport us through time but not the power to set her free?" Piper's voice held a note of incredulity, her eyebrows furrowing in surprise.

"Of course, we cast spells to prepare for your arrival, but we know it was the power of All Hallows Eve that brought you here," Eva clarified, her tone patient yet firm. "Not us."

"All Hallows' Eve?" Prue inquired, her curiosity piqued.

Eva's smile widened, a glint of reverence in her eyes. "A witch's most sacred day," she explained, her voice tinged with awe. "The day when the source of all magic is accessible. How could you be unaware of All Hallows Eve?"

"It isn't what it used to be," Phoebe acknowledged, her gaze distant as she recalled the modern interpretation of the ancient holiday.

"Wait a minute, uh, you can tap into that power to send us home, right?" Piper pressed, a flicker of hope in her eyes.

"We assumed you could," Eva replied honestly, her expression apologetic.

Piper sighed heavily, exchanging a glance with Prue and Phoebe. "They assumed that we could."

"Um, okay, well, uh, Piper, I have an idea," Prue interjected, her mind already racing with possibilities. "So, what time is it?"

Piper checked her wristwatch, the modern device a stark contrast against the historical backdrop. "It's 2:15," she reported, squinting slightly to read the time in the dimly lit cave.

Eva gently grasped Piper's arm and examined the watch with admiration. "You've made a big clock so small. You must possess great magic."

Piper chuckled modestly, shaking her head. "Just a good credit card," she quipped, a hint of humor in her voice.

Prue stepped in, sensing the need for a strategic discussion away from Eva's curious gaze. "Please excuse us for a minute," she said diplomatically, guiding Piper and Phoebe a few steps away from Eva. "We need to talk."

"All right, I think I've got this worked out. I think they sent us here, which is what Leo was attempting to tell us," Prue began, her voice calm but determined.

"Oh, leave it to them to zap first and give instructions never," Piper grumbled under her breath, her frustration evident.

"I think that the only way they'll let us go home is if we bring that baby back here by midnight," Prue continued, turning to Eva with a thoughtful expression. "Alright, uh, Eva, do you have a plan?"

Eva's smile was serene yet confident. "Yes." She raised a small bottle, presenting it to Piper. "This vial contains a potion that will put the house guards to sleep," she explained. "Then you'll use your powers to bring the mother back here."

Piper sighed, feeling the weight of the task ahead. "Ha, easy for her to say," she muttered wryly, handing the vial to Prue.

Ruth's Village

Prue, Piper, Phoebe, and Eva emerged cautiously from the brush at the edge of the village. The Halliwells had changed into the period-appropriate dresses and capes that Eva had provided, blending seamlessly into the 17th-century surroundings.

"We must be careful," Eva whispered, her eyes scanning the area for any signs of danger.

"It looks like they're having a party," Phoebe observed, glancing around at the bustling village. Festive lanterns hung from the trees, and villagers danced and sang, their laughter carrying on the cool night air.

Eva nodded, her expression serious. "It's the kidnapper, Ruth Cobb," she explained, her voice tinged with disdain. "She's pretending to mock All Hallows' Eve, but I know better. She's using the celebration to tap into the powers of dark magic."

Piper squinted across the field and noticed a group of men from earlier. "Looks like our welcoming committee," she muttered.

"Witch hunters," Phoebe said, her voice low and tense as she followed Piper's gaze.

"Hunters of good witches, maybe," Eva corrected, her tone filled with anger. "If they work for Ruth, they're after us."

"Not all of them," Prue murmured, her eyes narrowing as she spotted Micah lingering near the edge of the village, half-hidden by the shadows.

Phoebe noticed her sister's gaze and grinned. "Hmm," she mused, her tone laced with curiosity and amusement. As they walked closer to the village, the anticipation of their mission weighed heavily on them.

Eva's voice was a low, urgent whisper. "Beware the talismans," she cautioned, pointing to the crude, twisted charms hanging from the branches of a nearby tree. "They've barred our way each time we try to rescue Charlotte."

Phoebe rolled her eyes, scoffing at the notion. "Oh, honey, those don't really pack much of a punch where we come from."

"No, you don't realize…" Eva began, her voice trailing off as Prue, Piper, and Phoebe confidently strode forward.

Suddenly, a blinding light erupted from the talismans, and a forceful wave of energy blasted the sisters backward, sending them sprawling across the ground.

"Ooh, what the hell was that?" Phoebe exclaimed, wincing as she pushed herself up. The sharp tolling of a bell echoed through the village, and the once-celebratory atmosphere erupted into chaos. Villagers began yelling and running in every direction, their faces contorted with fear.

Prue sat up; her eyes locked on the offending talisman. "No way talismans have that much power," she muttered, her expression dark and determined as she glared at the sinister object.

"They never have before," Eva admitted, her eyes fixed on the offending talisman that had repelled them so forcefully. "Ruth's using the magic of All Hallow's Eve."

Before anyone could respond, the pounding of hooves grew louder, and Eva's face paled as she spotted guards approaching on horseback. "Guards!" she whispered urgently.

"Alright, I've got him. I've got him," Prue said confidently, raising her hand to send the guards flying off their horses. She waved her hand with determination, but to her horror, nothing happened. "Uh…" she stammered, trying again with no result.

"What just happened?" Phoebe asked, panic edging her voice. "What's the matter?"

"I don't know," Prue replied, frustration and confusion marring her features as she attempted her power once more. Again, nothing. "Piper?"

Piper focused, raising her hand to freeze the oncoming guards, but her powers failed her as well. The guards aimed their muskets, and a volley of shots rang out, the sound echoing through the night. The sisters screamed, ducking for cover as bullets whizzed past them. Piper frantically continued trying to freeze the guards, but to no avail.

"Use your powers!" Eva urged, her voice a mixture of fear and desperation.

"We don't have any," Prue admitted, her voice tinged with despair.

"What?" Eva asked, her eyes widening in shock.

"Run!" Phoebe commanded; her voice sharp with urgency. Just as they turned to flee, a gunshot rang out, and Eva cried out in pain, clutching her arm where the bullet had struck. Blood seeped through her fingers, but she managed to stay on her feet.

They dashed into the brush, adrenaline fueling their flight. The thick undergrowth snagged at their skirts, and the sounds of pursuit grew louder behind them. The forest seemed to close in around them, the darkness and the terror of the chase pressing in from all sides.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Inside Ruth's house, the atmosphere was thick with dark energy. Ruth peered through the grimy window, her eyes narrowing as she watched Eva, Prue, Piper, and Phoebe disappear into the dense brush. A cruel smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she turned and made her way to the dimly lit bedroom where Charlotte lay on a creaky bed, writhing in pain.

"It appears that your witch friend has brought others to try and rescue you again," Ruth said, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. She sauntered over to the bedside, her eyes glinting maliciously. "Unfortunately, she's been wounded."

Charlotte groaned, her face contorted in agony. Ruth reached out, brushing a lock of hair from Charlotte's sweaty forehead with faux tenderness. "Oh, easy now, Charlotte. We wouldn't want anything bad to happen to your baby now, would we?"

Despite the pain, Charlotte's eyes burned with defiance. "I won't let you have my baby," she spat out, her voice trembling with both fear and determination.

Ruth's smile widened, a sinister glint in her eye. "Oh, you won't have a choice. Especially since somebody very special has recently arrived to ensure it." With that, she turned and strode out of the room, her long skirts sweeping the floor with each step.

In a shadowy corner of the adjoining room stood Cole and Buffy, their figures cloaked in darkness. Ruth approached them, her curiosity evident despite her veneer of control. "How much longer, Ruth?" Cole asked, his voice a low rumble that matched the ominous atmosphere.

"Soon. By nightfall perhaps," Ruth answered, her gaze flickering with interest. "You two imbued the talismans with great power. Care to share your secrets? Who are you two? Where'd you come from? Pray tell."

As they stepped into the flickering candlelight, their faces were revealed—determined and resolute. Buffy's eyes met Ruth's with a steely resolve. "We came from the future," she said, her voice firm.

"To change it," Cole added, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

Ruth's eyes widened momentarily, taken aback by their admission. She quickly masked her surprise with a composed exterior. "Intriguing," she purred, circling them like a predator assessing its prey. "And what exactly do you hope to change?"

"In the future, there are three powerful witches, descended from Charlotte," Cole began, his voice steady and his gaze unwavering. "We have come to make sure that Charlotte's baby is raised by evil instead of good."

Ruth's eyes glittered with malevolent satisfaction at Cole's words. "An ambitious plan," she murmured, clearly relishing the idea. But before she could delve deeper into their motives, Buffy stepped forward, her expression resolute.

"Can I talk to my brother alone?" Buffy asked, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Ruth nodded, a sly smile playing on her lips as she backed out of the room. "Of course. But don't take too long," she said before disappearing into the shadows.

Once Ruth was gone, Buffy turned to face Cole, her eyes searching his. "I know if we don't succeed, the Source could have our heads," she began, her voice low and urgent. "But do we really have to change the future?"

Cole sighed; a heavy sound filled with the weight of their predicament. "Elizabeth," he said, using her full name to convey his seriousness. "I understand that the Slayer half of you is warring against the demon half. But this isn't just about us or our survival. It's about the balance of power. If those witches grow up under the influence of good magic, they'll be nearly unstoppable."

Buffy's eyes softened slightly; the internal conflict evident in her expression. "I know what's at stake, Cole. But changing the course of history… it's not something we should take lightly. There's always a cost."

Cole reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I get it, I do. But sometimes, the cost of doing nothing is even greater. The Source demands results, and if we fail him, it could be our lives on the line."

Buffy looked away, her mind racing as she processed his words. She knew he was right, but the moral implications gnawed at her. "I just… I wish there was another way," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Eva's Cavern

"Eva, we're sorry. We forgot that our powers..." Prue began as they re-entered the cave, their faces etched with concern and guilt.

"Just leave us," Eva said sharply, holding a bloodied cloth to her wound. The pain and frustration in her voice were palpable. "Just go back to wherever it is you came from. We asked for the most powerful witches of all time and instead, we get powerless frauds."

"Um, okay, I know you're a little disappointed, but frauds is a little harsh, don't you think?" Phoebe interjected, her voice tinged with indignation.

"We do have powers, we just—or at least, we had them. We just can't access them right now," Piper added, her frustration mounting.

"Maybe that's because technically we don't really exist yet, so neither do our powers," Prue suggested, a hint of desperation in her tone as she tried to rationalize their predicament.

Eva's eyes softened slightly, but the pain and disappointment were still evident. "Protecting this baby is my destiny," she admitted, her voice trembling. "How can we come this far just to fail?"

"We're asking ourselves the same thing," Phoebe said, her tone mirroring Eva's despair. Just then, a woman walked over to Eva, her expression determined.

"Bite down," the woman instructed, handing Eva a small roll of cloth. Eva took the roll and put it into her mouth, her eyes filled with a mix of dread and resignation. The woman then grabbed a red-hot poker out of the fire, its tip glowing ominously.

"Oh, whoa, whoa, whoa," Piper cried, placing a hand on the woman's arm to stop her. "What are you doing?"

"Cauterizing her wound," the woman answered matter-of-factly, her grip on the poker unwavering.

"No, no, no, no, no. We may not have powers, but we do have the basics," Piper said firmly, taking charge of the situation. "Just get some hot water, soap, and clean cloths." She turned to Eva, whose eyes were filled with pain and frustration. "Hurry," she urged.

Eva nodded weakly to the women, who immediately hurried away to gather the necessary supplies.

"Eva, don't give up on us yet, alright? I know that we can help," Prue said, her voice steady and reassuring as she knelt beside Eva.

"Yeah, we've been through tougher jams than this before," Phoebe chimed in, attempting to inject some optimism into the dire situation.

"We have?" Piper asked her younger sister, raising an eyebrow in skepticism.

"Haven't we?" Phoebe replied with a hint of doubt, trying to recall their past escapades.

Prue squeezed Eva's hand gently, her eyes searching Eva's for a glimmer of hope. "We were born witches. That makes us innately magical. Maybe you can just teach us how to tap into it," she suggested, her voice filled with determination.

Eva looked at her, pain and exhaustion evident in her eyes. "There's not enough time," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

"We're quick studies," Phoebe said, her tone laced with a mix of urgency and confidence.

Ruth's Village

In Ruth's house, the air was thick with tension and the flickering light from the candles cast long, dancing shadows on the walls. Ruth was laying out tarot cards in front of her, their intricate designs reflecting the gravity of the situation. Charlotte lay on a makeshift bed, her face contorted in pain as she groaned through another contraction.

"Her contractions are coming closer together," Ruth said, glancing up with a mixture of satisfaction and urgency. She saw Buffy soaking a cloth in a bowl of cool water, her movements methodical but distracted. "It won't be long now."

Buffy walked over to Charlotte, her face softening as she reached out with the wet cloth. "Don't touch me," Charlotte cried out, her voice raw with desperation and fear.

"There's no need for you to be any more uncomfortable than you have to be," Buffy said gently, trying to offer some semblance of comfort.

"Really?" Charlotte shot back, her eyes blazing with defiance. "Then let me go. I beg you."

Buffy's heart ached at Charlotte's plea, but she knew the reality of their situation. "Even if we could, it wouldn't help. Another would be sent to take you right back," Cole interjected, his tone cold and resolute. As he spoke, Ruth's eyes widened in surprise, her gaze fixed on the tarot cards.

"What? What do you see?" Cole demanded, moving to stand beside her.

"A force of great good, from your time. Here, for the baby as well," Ruth whispered, her voice tinged with a mix of awe and fear.

"Three of them," Cole muttered, his jaw tightening. "I'm not surprised. Mine and Elizabeth's traveling here undoubtedly alerted the other side."

"But this new force…" Ruth began, her voice trailing off as the implications sank in.

"If it's who I think it is, Elizabeth and I can handle them," Cole said with grim determination. "You just make sure Charlotte stays here through midnight."

Buffy sighed, her internal struggle written across her face as she continued to tend to Charlotte. She didn't want to go up against the Charmed Ones. The Slayer side of her was screaming that she should be siding with them, not against them. She glanced down at Charlotte, who stared back with a mix of hope and despair.

Buffy's thoughts churned with conflict. Sometimes she hated being half-Slayer, half-demon. It was a constant battle within her—her Slayer instincts urging her to fight for good, while her demon heritage whispered dark temptations. The dichotomy of her existence left her feeling perpetually torn, and moments like these magnified the inner turmoil.

Charlotte's pained breaths filled the room, each one a reminder of the stakes. Buffy's resolve wavered as she felt the pull of her dual nature. She wanted to protect this innocent woman and her child, yet the weight of her demonic obligations pressed heavily on her shoulders.

As Buffy stood there, lost in her thoughts, Cole stepped toward her. His eyes met Buffy's, and for a brief moment, she saw a flicker of understanding, as if he knew exactly what she was feeling. Then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by his usual steely resolve.

"We have a job to do," he reminded her, his voice a cold echo in the dimly lit room.

Buffy nodded, though her heart was far from settled. The lines between right and wrong blurred, leaving her trapped in a murky gray area. But for now, she had to follow through with the plan. She only hoped that somehow, they would find a way to do what was right—whatever that might be.

Eva's Cavern

"Here," Eva said as she handed Prue, Piper, and Phoebe each a small doll made out of wheat. The intricate craftsmanship and earthy scent of the dolls hinted at their ancient origins.

"Dolls?" Piper said skeptically, her eyebrow arched in doubt. "We tap into our powers with dolls?"

Eva chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with the wisdom of ages. "It's not just a doll," she told them. "It's a totem. It reminds us of the wisdom and the power of women, passed down through generations."

"Okay, but what does it have to do with..." Phoebe wondered aloud, turning the doll over in her hands and examining its woven details.

"The witch's journey is a walk of wisdom collected over the years, Phoebe," Eva said, her voice gentle but firm, as she cut an apple in half with a small, ornate knife. "Wisdom gives us power. Power frightens the fearful and the ignorant."

"Well, that would certainly explain why in our time witches are made to look silly on Halloween," Prue admitted, exchanging glances with her sisters. They nodded in agreement, recognizing the truth in Eva's words.

"This magic, this knowledge is forgotten?" Eva asked, her eyebrow arched in a mix of curiosity and concern.

"We could get it back if you teach us," Phoebe insisted, her eyes bright with determination.

"Here," Eva said, picking up a witch's hat and placing it gently on Phoebe's head. The hat's pointed tip cast a long shadow in the candlelit cave, giving Phoebe an air of ancient authority. "The conical hat is a spiritual point. It helps us to channel our magic. Keeps us centered, focused. The apple holds a pentacle in its heart." She held up one half of the apple, revealing the star-shaped core that gleamed like a hidden treasure. "Add a laurel leaf, you will block the path of evil." She placed a laurel leaf over the center of the apple, its green vibrant against the red flesh.

"A simple laurel leaf?" Prue questioned in disbelief, her eyes narrowing as she tried to grasp the concept.

Eva nodded solemnly. "Simple, but powerful," she informed them. "Remember, there is magic all around you, especially on this night."

"Uh, what's with the masks?" Piper wondered, glancing at the collection of ornate, handcrafted masks hanging on the cave walls.

"Demons walk freely on All Hallows Eve, so a mask allows you to hide your identity," Eva explained as she handed a mask to Piper. The mask was intricately decorated with symbols and feathers, emanating an aura of mystery. "Walk amongst them unnoticed."

Phoebe, her curiosity piqued, looked toward a woman holding a broom. "Can I see that?" she asked. The woman handed her the broom, its handle worn smooth from use.

"Okay, now don't tell me we ride around on this thing," Phoebe said, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

Eva chuckled warmly. "Anything's possible," she said, taking the broom from Phoebe. "But the broom's traditional purpose is to sweep evil from your path. Sweep east to west," she demonstrated with a graceful, sweeping motion, before handing the broom back to Phoebe. "Same path as the sun travels," she continued. "Like anything else in magic, it's how you do it, with knowledge and reverence."

"Wow, do I feel silly," Phoebe said with a sheepish grin as she mimicked Eva's sweeping motion with the broom, moving it from east to west. A faint, unexpected shock tingled through her fingers, causing her to recoil slightly. "Ah!"

"What happened?" Piper asked, concern furrowing her brow as she watched Phoebe's reaction.

Phoebe shook her head, trying to dismiss the sensation. "Nothing," she insisted, though she couldn't shake the odd feeling. "Must have been just a spark."

Eva chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "No, you felt the power," she assured Phoebe. "Alright, Sally will go with you to Ruth's house. She'll give you the last few things you'll need. I wish I could go with you."

"We'll do great," Prue reassured Eva, her tone resolute. "You've armed us well."

Eva nodded approvingly. "Remember," she began, her voice taking on a serious tone, "connect with the power of this day. All Hallows Eve is a conduit for ancient magic, a time when the veil between worlds is thin. Let the energy guide you."

Ruth's Village

In the midst of the lively village celebration, where people danced and mingled in their masks and costumes, Ruth approached Cole and Buffy with a determined expression. Her eyes darted between them, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension in her gaze.

"Will you know what they look like?" Ruth inquired, her voice low with urgency.

"What are you doing here?" Cole responded sharply, his tone a mix of concern and reprimand. "I told you to stay at the house."

Ruth folded her arms defiantly, undeterred by Cole's stern demeanor. "The house is guarded by men and magic," she explained, her voice edged with frustration. "Charlotte's not going anywhere."

"Elizabeth and I have seen the future, Ruth," Cole retorted, his voice firm and commanding. "Your ignorance is your destiny."

With those ominous words hanging in the air, Cole and Buffy swiftly donned their masks, their identities concealed within the festive disguises.

As Buffy and Cole walked away from Ruth, the festive sounds of the village celebration echoing around them, Buffy turned to her younger brother with a troubled expression etched on her face. The masks they wore seemed incongruous with the weight of their conversation. "Cole, we still have time to stop this," she began earnestly, her voice tinged with urgency. "To help the Charmed Ones. We can find another way."

Cole met his sister's gaze, his own eyes shadowed with the gravity of their mission. His jaw tightened briefly before he responded, his voice low and resolute. "Elizabeth, if we don't succeed, the Source could have us terminated. We have no choice but to see this through."

Buffy sighed, frustration and concern evident in her features. She understood the dire consequences of failure, not just for themselves but potentially for the future they were trying to alter. Her dual nature as both Slayer and demon warred within her—instincts pulling her towards protecting the innocent, while duty bound her to fulfill the mission set out by Cole and the Triad.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

As the Halliwells and Sally walked toward the village, Sally quietly handed them essential tools for their mission. Her voice was hushed, laden with urgency as she briefed them on the layout of Ruth's house and the dangers that awaited.

"Charlotte should be in the first bedroom at the top of the stairs," Sally whispered, her eyes darting nervously around. "Be careful; Ruth's guards are everywhere. If they catch you with these tools, they'll know you are witches."

"Don't worry, we won't fail this time," Prue assured her, determination etched in her features.

"I know you won't," Sally replied with a nod, her gaze shifting between the three sisters. "Which of you will be standing guard for the others?"

"Phoebe," Piper declared, glancing pointedly at her younger sister.

Sally turned to Phoebe, handing her a small, intricately carved pumpkin with a star-shaped opening. "If need be, this will turn away evil spirits," she explained solemnly. "Perhaps even a demon you think Ruth's summoned."

Phoebe arched an eyebrow skeptically, a hint of disbelief coloring her expression as she accepted the mystical pumpkin. "Um, you're kidding, right?" she quipped lightly, but the serious glare from Sally affirmed the gravity of the situation. "Okay, you're not kidding," Phoebe conceded, tucking the pumpkin into the pocket of her cape.

"Blessed be. Good luck," Sally murmured, her voice tinged with both hope and fear, before turning and disappearing into the shadows.

"Alright," Prue said, her voice low and steady as they donned their masks, blending into the lively festivities of the village. "Trick or treat."

With masks concealing their identities and tools concealed, they moved forward, each step calculated and cautious.

Phoebe turned away from Prue and Piper, choosing a different path through the bustling village. As she walked, a mysterious man intercepted her with an offer that piqued her curiosity.

"Care to know your future, milady?" he inquired, his voice smooth and tinged with a hint of mystique.

Phoebe glanced at him with a polite smile. "Oh, no thanks," she declined politely. "I'm pretty familiar with it already."

"Are you certain?" the man persisted, his eyes gleaming with an enigmatic charm. "I can show you the first initial of your true love's name."

"Really? You can do that?" Phoebe asked, her interest suddenly piqued, wondering how he could possibly know such a thing.

The man smiled, a knowing glint in his eyes. "With a simple peel of the apple," he explained cryptically, holding out a ripe fruit as if it held the secrets of the universe.

"Prove it," a voice interjected suddenly. Phoebe turned to see Cole and Buffy approaching, their presence unexpected but intriguing.

"And why would you be interested, sir?" Phoebe inquired, her gaze shifting between the siblings, unable to recognize Cole beneath his mask.

"And why wouldn't you be?" Buffy's voice cut through the air, direct and probing, her gaze fixed on Cole.

"Okay," Phoebe responded, her curiosity undiminished as she turned back to the man with the apple. "How do we do it?"

The man's smile widened with an enigmatic charm. "First," he began, his hands deftly peeling the apple, "you must fill your heart, only thoughts of love. Then close your eyes and blow on the peel."

Phoebe followed his instructions, focusing on love and closing her eyes as she took a deep breath. She felt the weight of expectation as the moment unfolded, unsure of what she might see or discover.

"Now drop the peel into the water and watch," the man instructed gently.

Phoebe complied, dropping the peel into the water and reopening her eyes, her heart racing with anticipation. "And how is it that the apple knows this big secret?" she wondered aloud, her voice a mixture of skepticism and wonder.

"It's simple, milady. Apples are the fruit of knowledge," Cole interjected smoothly, his mask concealing any emotion as he spoke. He watched intently as Phoebe's apple peel unfurled in the water, forming the distinct shape of the letter C.

"It is a C. The name of your true love begins with a C," the man announced confidently, his gaze fixed on Phoebe.

"Cole," Phoebe uttered softly, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she assumed the apple peel had revealed her true love's name.

Cole met Phoebe's gaze for a fleeting moment, his eyes reflecting a mixture of emotions and thoughts. Before he could respond, Buffy intervened, pulling him away from Phoebe with a gentle urgency.

"Maybe this is how we let them win, Cole," Buffy murmured quietly, her voice carrying a weight of implication. "She loves you, Cole. And I bet in your heart, you love her."

Cole remained silent, his expression inscrutable behind the mask as he processed Buffy's words and the implications they carried.

Suddenly, a figure brushed past Phoebe with force, jostling her and causing her to fumble the small pumpkin Sally had given her. The pumpkin fell from her grasp, hitting the ground with a dull thud. Startled, Phoebe glanced around, only to see Ruth nearby, her eyes fixed on the fallen pumpkin.

"Witch!" Ruth's voice rang out sharply, accusingly, as she pointed an accusatory finger at Phoebe.

"No," Cole interjected swiftly, stepping forward with a firm stance. His expression was tense, eyes narrowed beneath the mask, assessing the situation with a calculated demeanor.

Micah, who had been hovering nearby, rushed over with purpose. His movements were quick and methodical as he reached for Phoebe, his hands deftly searching her pockets for any incriminating evidence.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

"Uh-oh," Piper exclaimed, her voice tinged with alarm as she caught sight of what was unfolding with Phoebe. "Prue."

Prue pivoted swiftly at Piper's urgent tone, her eyes swiftly tracking where Piper pointed. She immediately grasped the gravity of the situation. "Phoebe," she murmured with equal urgency, their shared concern palpable as they hurried towards their youngest sister.

"Those two as well," Ruth interjected sharply, her voice cutting through the chaos as she gestured towards Prue and Piper. The men, spurred on by the frenzy of the mob, seized Prue and Piper in a rough grasp.

"There's your three," Ruth declared with grim certainty, her words a bitter confirmation to Buffy and Cole. Around them, the crowd's fervor intensified, voices blending into a cacophony of hatred and vengeance. "Hang the Witches!" The chant rose like a menacing tide. "Hang them! Hang them all!"

A Field Outside the Village

Prue, Piper, and Phoebe sat astride their horses beneath the sheltering boughs of a tree, their hearts heavy as the nooses tightened around their necks. The men from the village stood in grim silence, their faces twisted with a mixture of fear and fervor.

"Tell me this isn't happening," Piper pleaded, her voice trembling with disbelief.

Micah thundered up on his horse, the sudden arrival startling the already skittish mounts. "Hang witch. Hyah!" he bellowed, spurring the horses into a panicked frenzy. The ground vanished beneath Prue, Piper, and Phoebe as their horses bolted, leaving them suspended by the taut ropes, their bodies swinging ominously.

"Onward!" Micah commanded, his voice harsh and unforgiving, as he and the villagers rode away, leaving the Halliwells dangling in the cold grip of impending death.

Minutes stretched like hours until Micah returned alone. His gaze darted around, ensuring no one observed his clandestine actions. With practiced precision, he drew a knife and swiftly cut them down. The Halliwells collapsed to the earth with gasps of pain, the relief of escape mingling with the ache of bruised bodies.

"My apologies," Micah murmured, dismounting and swiftly freeing their hands from the ropes. "A trick I learned from the French. Run the noose line to the waist."

Phoebe managed a wry smile amidst the pain. "Good thing the other guards didn't catch you in the act," she remarked, her voice tinged with gratitude as they regained their footing.

Piper, bewildered yet thankful, turned to Prue. "Wait a minute, I don't understand. How did you know we could trust him?"

Prue met Micah's gaze with a serene certainty. "By the look in his eyes," she explained softly, her own eyes holding a flicker of admiration for the man who had defied the mob for them. "So, that would be…" With a deft movement, she removed her mask, revealing her identity. "…the second time you've saved our necks."

Micah, gallant and undaunted, took Prue's hand gently in his own and brought it to his lips, bestowing a courtly kiss upon it. "And what beautiful necks they are," he murmured with a hint of admiration. "I'm Micah."

Prue couldn't help but smile, a dreamy light in her eyes. "I'm Charmed."

Phoebe fixed her gaze on Micah with a mixture of curiosity and admiration. "I hate to bust up the balcony scene, Romeo, but why do you keep saving us and why are you running with the witch hunters?"

Micah's eyes briefly flickered with resolve before he turned to face Piper and Phoebe directly. "So, I can undo their work whenever possible," he replied earnestly. "I've seen firsthand what dark magic can unleash. If you're fighting against that darkness, then count me on your side. But I must return before anyone grows suspicious."

"Thank you," Prue said softly, her voice filled with gratitude as she leaned over and pressed a grateful kiss on Micah's cheek.

Micah nodded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Another time." With practiced ease, he swung back into the saddle of his horse and rode off towards the distant village.

"Who was that masked man?" Prue mused aloud, her gaze lingering on the fading silhouette of Micah.

Phoebe chuckled softly, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Okay, you finally found a real man," she quipped. "Too bad he lives in Colonial Virginia, Prue."

"We need to get out of here," Piper urged, her gaze locking onto Prue's with a mixture of urgency and determination. "Pay attention."

Prue nodded, understanding the gravity of their situation as she met Piper's eyes. "Okay, any idea how we're going to save the baby?" Phoebe interjected; her voice tinged with concern.

Piper's lips curved into a confident smile. "Well, they think we're dead now," she confessed, a hint of satisfaction in her tone. "They certainly aren't expecting us."

"I mean; besides, you know, the fact that we're witches and it's All Hallows Eve. So…," Prue chimed in, her voice laced with a touch of mischief.

Piper shook her head fondly, exchanging a knowing glance with Prue. "Alright, glow elsewhere," she teased gently.

Prue chuckled softly, acknowledging the playful rebuke. "Alright," she agreed, her demeanor shifting to one of focused determination as they prepared to enact their plan.

Ruth's Village

Piper and Phoebe stood anxiously at the edge of the village, their eyes darting around nervously as they waited for Prue to return from her reconnaissance. The twilight shadows lengthened, casting an eerie glow over the deserted path.

Prue emerged from the gloom, her expression serious. "I don't see Ruth or the guards," she reported quietly. "What time is it?"

Piper pulled her pocket watch out, its face gleaming faintly in the dim light. "It's six o'clock," she said, a note of urgency creeping into her voice. "And we're running out of time and magic."

Prue nodded; her face resolute. "Well, it doesn't change what we have to do."

Phoebe glanced nervously toward a talisman hanging from a nearby tree, its presence a stark reminder of the obstacles they faced. "How are we going to get past the talismans?" she asked, her voice tinged with worry.

Prue's eyes sparkled with a mix of determination and a hint of mischief. "Do you remember what Eva said?" she asked pointedly.

Phoebe furrowed her brow, recalling their conversation. "The powerless frauds part?"

Prue chuckled, shaking her head. "No, the magic is all around us," she reminded them. "Well, it's time we learned how to access that." She picked up a broom lying nearby and handed it to Phoebe, her expression serious yet encouraging. "Just sweep away evil."

Phoebe took the broom, her brow still furrowed in confusion. "What? No funny hat?" she quipped, trying to lighten the mood despite her nerves.

Piper delicately plucked the flowers off a lavender bush, their fragrance filling the air with a calming scent. "Lavender," she murmured, her voice carrying a note of hope. "Didn't she say that was a protection herb?"

Prue, standing nearby, bent down to gather some wheat. Her hands moved deftly, twisting the stalks into the shape of a small doll. "And the wisdom of the women before us will guide us again," she affirmed, her tone rich with reverence for the ancient knowledge they were invoking.

Piper looked at Phoebe and gave a decisive nod. "Okay, get sweeping."

Phoebe let out an exasperated groan as they approached the old house, its silhouette dark against the evening sky. "Ugh... Alright, which way is east?"

Piper glanced around, quickly orienting herself. "Uh, that way," she said, pointing away from the setting sun.

Phoebe nodded, positioning herself as she began sweeping from east to west. With each stroke, the broom began to emit tiny sparks of magic, its bristles glowing faintly. "Whoa, did you see that?" she exclaimed, her eyes widening in amazement.

"Yeah, keep going," Prue encouraged, her eyes bright with excitement as she observed the unfolding magic.

Phoebe continued to sweep, her movements becoming more confident. The talismans hanging from the trees started to shimmer, their glow intensifying before they fell, powerless, to the ground. "It's working," she breathed, a triumphant smile spreading across her face as the magical barriers crumbled before their eyes.

"Alright, good," Prue said appreciatively, her relief palpable. Just then, they spotted Micah being seized by several of the village men. Panic flashed in Prue's eyes. "Micah," she cried out, instinctively starting to move toward him.

"Prue, you can't," Phoebe interjected, grabbing her sister's arm.

"They found him out," Prue countered, desperation in her voice as she watched Micah struggle.

"But we have to get to Charlotte," Phoebe insisted, her voice firm. "What would he want you to do?"

Prue looked at Phoebe, her eyes searching for reassurance. After a moment, she nodded, realizing that Micah would indeed want her to save Charlotte. With a determined breath, she turned her back on Micah, their silent understanding fueling her resolve.

The sisters hurried toward the house, slipping inside with practiced stealth. They moved quietly through the dimly lit interior, guided by Eva's meticulous directions. Finally, they found Charlotte exactly where Eva had said she would be, lying on a makeshift bed in a small, secluded room.

"Hi," Piper greeted softly, her voice gentle to avoid startling Charlotte.

Charlotte's eyes widened in confusion as she looked at the four of them. "Who are you?" she asked, her voice edged with both fear and curiosity.

"Eva sent us," Prue explained quickly, trying to convey urgency without panic. "Charlotte, we're here to take you back."

"You're lying," Charlotte responded, her voice shaky as suspicion clouded her features. "I don't believe..." She broke off with a cry of pain, clutching her abdomen as a contraction wracked her body. The baby was coming, and there was no more time to waste.

"Oh, okay, okay, uh, uh, how does Lamaze breathing go?" Prue asked, her eyes darting to the rest of her family in desperation.

"Uh…" Piper stammered, racking her brain. She took a few deep breaths, trying to mimic the rhythmic breathing she had seen other women do. "Hee-hee-hoo, hee-hee-hoo," she began, the sounds awkward at first but gaining a steady rhythm.

"Oh, that's it," Prue agreed, a small smile tugging at her lips as she saw her sister's effort. Just then, Charlotte screamed again as another contraction hit, her face contorted in pain.

"Okay, okay, okay, um, try this. We can do this," Piper said, her voice filled with determination. She pressed a spot on Charlotte's back with her fingers, applying gentle but firm pressure.

"How are you making the pain go away?" Charlotte gasped, her eyes widening in surprise as the pain ebbed slightly.

Piper smiled, a reassuring warmth in her expression. "Uh, uh, good magic," she informed the woman. "Just keep breathing. Hee-hee-hoo."

"Good magic?" Prue echoed, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

"Acupressure," Piper clarified, glancing at her eldest sister.

"Good idea," Prue agreed, impressed by Piper's resourcefulness. "Alright, uh, we need to get you out of here. Come on, honey, it's okay." She and Piper gently helped Charlotte to sit up.

Charlotte's eyes widened in panic as another contraction surged through her, more intense than the last. "Ahh!" she screamed, and suddenly, a gush of water soaked the ground beneath her.

Prue and Piper jumped back instinctively. "Oh, oh, her water just broke," Prue exclaimed, her voice rising with urgency.

"I see that," Piper grimaced, realizing they were running out of time. She could feel the pressure mounting as they needed to get Charlotte to safety before the baby arrived.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Micah collapsed to the ground, clutching his abdomen, blood seeping through his fingers. Standing over him was Cole, his expression cold and detached, the dagger in his hand still slick with Micah's blood.

"Really, Cole?" Buffy exclaimed, her voice filled with a mix of frustration and disbelief as she stared at her younger brother.

"Now is not the time, Elizabeth," Cole replied curtly, not even sparing her a glance as he wiped the blade on his trousers and dropped it to the ground with a clatter. His eyes darted around, alert and calculating.

Ruth came running up to them, her breath ragged, eyes wide with urgency. "Quickly, check the house," she ordered, her voice sharp.

"No," Cole interjected with a steely calmness, raising his hand to halt the men who had started toward the house. "I know these witches," he continued, his voice laced with a knowing disdain. "They've already got Charlotte. Follow me, I know where they're going."

Buffy watched in silent fury as Cole took charge, his demeanor exuding a ruthless confidence. She glanced down at Micah; whose pained groans were a stark reminder of the violence Cole had inflicted.

Witch's Altar

Prue and Piper had a firm hold on Charlotte's arms, supporting her as they navigated the rugged terrain toward Eva's cave. The clearing ahead was dominated by the presence of the altar, a reminder of the stakes they faced.

"The altar," Phoebe said, her voice filled with a mixture of dread and determination as she followed closely behind, glancing over her shoulder to ensure they weren't being followed.

"Okay, just a little while longer, we're almost there," Piper encouraged, her voice soothing yet urgent.

"I can't," Charlotte groaned, her face contorted with pain and exhaustion.

Prue gave her a reassuring smile, her eyes filled with a steely resolve. "Yes, you can," she insisted gently, tightening her grip on Charlotte's arm.

Tears streamed down Charlotte's face as she sobbed, "I'm sorry."

"You can do this," Prue repeated firmly, trying to instill some of her own strength into the laboring woman.

Charlotte shook her head vehemently, her entire body trembling. "No, I can't go any further!" she gasped, her voice breaking with desperation.

"Charlotte," Prue began, but Charlotte cut her off, her eyes wide with fear and determination.

"The baby's coming now!" Charlotte cried, dropping to her knees on the damp ground.

"Oh, god," Prue exclaimed, her voice tinged with panic as she knelt beside Charlotte, her hands hovering uncertainly.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

It was nearing 11 o'clock as Charlotte lay on the ground, a blanket covering her from the waist down. Her breaths came in short, labored gasps, each one a testament to the intense effort of labor.

Piper glanced at her watch, anxiety creeping into her voice. "Um, it's almost 11 o'clock," she said, her eyes darting to Prue. "Do you think they gave up on us?"

Phoebe's eyes widened as she caught sight of flickering torchlight emerging from the other side of the field. "Uh…" she hesitated, her pulse quickening. "No, I don't think so."

"Alright, what do we have?" Prue wondered aloud, her mind racing as she tried to assess their situation.

"We've got big problems…" Piper insisted, her frown deepening as she scanned their limited resources, "…little time and little magic."

"Alright, didn't Eva say something about, uh, Charlotte giving birth in a protective circle?" Prue questioned, trying to recall Eva's instructions through the fog of urgency.

Phoebe's eyes lit up with a glimmer of hope. "Can we make one of those?" she asked eagerly.

"I don't know," Piper shrugged, her frustration evident. "We've got lavender and uh…" She hesitated, trying to identify the herbs they had hastily gathered.

"Isn't rosemary supposed to be good for protection?" Phoebe wondered, pointing towards a bundle of herbs they had collected.

"Right, and apples and laurel leaves block the path of evil," Prue reminded them, her voice steady even as the tension mounted. Phoebe nodded, her face determined. "Put it all together, it may just work," Prue said, her words punctuated by another scream from Charlotte, whose pain was intensifying.

"Who's gonna deliver the baby?" Piper asked, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and urgency.

"Personally, I think you should, considering we know that you're gonna have one in the future," Phoebe said, her tone a blend of practicality and encouragement.

"I second that," Prue agreed, her voice firm and resolute.

"Wait a minute," Piper protested, her face paling at the thought.

"Go. Bye," Prue said, waving her off with a mix of urgency and reassurance.

"I always get the messy jobs," Piper muttered, shaking her head as she walked over to Charlotte, her steps firm despite her reservations.

"Alright, if ever there was a time that we were going to connect, it needs to be now," Prue said, turning to face Phoebe with a look of intense focus. "So, Phoebe, form a circle. I'll work on the apples," she instructed, her mind racing as she tried to recall the precise details of the protection spell.

Phoebe nodded, her movements swift and precise as she began throwing items on the ground to form the protective circle. She scattered the herbs with purpose, the lavender and rosemary intertwining to create a boundary against evil. As she worked, her eyes flicked to the approaching torchlight, her heart pounding in her chest.

Piper smiled up at Charlotte's face, trying to convey calm and reassurance despite the urgency of their situation. "Okay, Charlotte, you're going to have to try and be kind of quiet," she said softly as Charlotte whimpered in pain, her body trembling with the effort. "I know, I'm sorry. It's going to be okay. Don't worry, everything's under control."

Lifting the blanket to check Charlotte's progress, Piper's eyes widened with awe and excitement. "Oh my god, I see it, I see it," she exclaimed, spotting the baby's head crowning.

"Really?" Phoebe asked, her curiosity piqued as she hurried over to see for herself.

"Phoebe, the circle!" Prue cried out, reminding her sister of the critical task at hand. They needed to finish the protection circle if they were going to keep the approaching danger at bay.

Phoebe nodded, snapping back to reality. "The circle," she repeated, quickly returning to her position and resuming her work on the protective barrier.

Piper turned back to Charlotte, her voice both gentle and firm. "Okay, um, just try not to push right now," she instructed, even as she knew how difficult that would be for the laboring woman. She glanced up at her sisters, her heart pounding. "Okay, uh, this baby is coming!"

Prue's face was a mask of determination as she pointed toward the approaching men. "Yeah, well, so are they," she said, her voice tight with tension.

"Okay, we can do this," Piper told Charlotte, trying to infuse her voice with confidence. She needed to believe it as much as she needed Charlotte to. "Yes, we can do this."

"We have to do this," Phoebe insisted, her voice trembling but resolute as she walked over to Prue. Her eyes shone with determination, and she held her sister's gaze firmly.

"Alright, here," Prue said, handing Phoebe an apple. The fruit glistened in the dim light, a symbol of their hope and their ancient knowledge. "Knowledge and reverence," she reminded her sister as they faced each other, their hands clasped around the apple.

"Knowledge and reverence, knowledge and reverence, knowledge and reverence, knowledge and reverence," Phoebe and Prue chanted in unison, their voices rising above the ominous sounds of the men drawing closer. The chant became a rhythmic pulse of unity and power, their connection strengthening with each repetition.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Across the field, Cole, Buffy, and Ruth sat atop their horses, their gazes fixed on the scene unfolding before them. As the chaos subsided and the moonlit clearing settled into an eerie calm, Cole brought his horse to a stop, his expression inscrutable.

"What are you doing?" Ruth asked, her voice tinged with impatience as she watched Cole closely.

"Seeing what they've learned," Cole replied quietly, his eyes narrowing as he observed the Halliwell sisters and Charlotte, within the protective circle.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

"Here they come," Phoebe said, her eyes widening as she saw the men nearing, their expressions dark and menacing.

"Prue," Piper called out, motioning toward Charlotte, whose face was twisted in pain and fear as she clutched her newborn baby.

"Right," Prue acknowledged, a fierce determination in her eyes. "Put it all together, it's going to work," she said with conviction. She and Phoebe threw the apples outward, and as they hit the ground, the protective circle shimmered to life around them, a radiant barrier of magic and light.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

"They've connected. It's over," Cole declared quietly, his voice carrying a weight of finality as he watched the Halliwell sisters from across the field.

"No, not yet," Ruth countered, her tone defiant as she leaned forward in her saddle, her eyes narrowing in determination.

"Yes, it is," Buffy interjected firmly, her expression unreadable as she shifted her gaze between Cole and Ruth. Her confidence in the situation was unwavering, a stark contrast to Ruth's skepticism.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

"How cool is that?" Phoebe marveled, her eyes lighting up as one of the men hit the barrier and was thrown back with a grunt. "It actually worked."

But their triumph was short-lived. The men, undeterred, raised their guns and began firing. The air was filled with the deafening crack of gunshots, and Phoebe and Prue dove behind the altar, their hearts pounding as bullets whizzed past them.

"Or not!" Phoebe cried, her voice edged with panic as she pressed herself against the cold stone, seeking cover.

Piper bowed her head as low as she could while still keeping a protective eye on Charlotte and the baby. Her heart raced, but she kept her focus. "It doesn't stop bullets," she stated grimly, the realization settling heavily in her gut.

"We are running out of ammo," Prue said urgently, her eyes darting to the dwindling supplies behind the altar.

"Prue, it's not like an apple's going to stop them anyway," Phoebe retorted, frustration evident in her voice as she glanced over at the relentless men firing at them.

Piper's heart raced as she finally delivered the baby, her hands steady as she cut the umbilical cord with the knife retrieved from the altar. "It's a girl!" she announced with a mix of relief and joy, swiftly wrapping Charlotte's baby in a warm blanket.

"Piper, get Charlotte and the baby out of here," Prue instructed, her voice firm and unwavering despite the chaos around them.

"Huh?" Piper stammered, torn between her instinct to protect her sisters and the immediate need to ensure Charlotte's safety.

"Okay, I think I have an idea of what might really scare them," Phoebe said suddenly, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she grabbed a witch's hat and a broom nearby.

"What are you going to do?" Piper asked, her brow furrowing in concern as Phoebe donned the hat with determination.

Phoebe smirked. "I'm going to embrace the cliché," she declared boldly, sweeping the broom in a wide arc from east to west. With practiced ease, she mounted the broom and, to everyone's astonishment, it began to rise into the air.

"There's something you don't see every day," Piper remarked with a mix of awe and amusement as she watched her sister ascend into the night sky.

Phoebe soared above the men, her laughter ringing out as she cackled with theatrical delight, embracing the whimsical stereotype of a witch flying on a broomstick. She swooped and twirled, her silhouette dancing against the moonlit sky, a surreal and unexpected sight that stunned the men below.

As Phoebe flew in front of the full moon, she couldn't suppress a giggle of sheer exhilaration. Despite the danger and uncertainty, in that moment, she felt an electrifying rush of freedom and power, a reminder of the magic that coursed through their veins.

The men, taken aback by the unexpected and supernatural display, hesitated in their advance. Some dropped their weapons, others stumbled back in fear. Phoebe's audacious act had turned the tide, scattering their attackers.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

"You've gotta give them credit. They're awfully good," Cole remarked with a mix of admiration and intrigue as he watched Phoebe skillfully maneuvering on the broomstick through the night sky. "It's alright. Time's on my side," he said confidently, his voice carrying a hint of reassurance as he observed the scene unfolding. With a wave of his hand, a dark portal shimmered into existence in the ground beside them, its edges swirling with otherworldly energy.

"Let's go," Buffy said simply, her tone resolute as she stepped toward the portal, ready to go home. She grinned to herself happy that the Halliwell sisters had been able to keep time from being rewritten.

Cole cast a final glance at Phoebe, still soaring above them with a mixture of wonder and respect. Without hesitation, he and Buffy stepped into the portal, the darkness enveloping them as they vanished from the moonlit field. The portal closed silently behind them, leaving no trace of their departure.

October 31, 1997 – Friday

Summers Home

Buffy shimmered into her bedroom, the soft glow of the teleportation fading as she found Angel waiting for her. His expression shifted from concern to shock as he took in her sudden appearance.

"I can explain, Angel," Buffy began, her voice heavy with weariness as she crossed the room and sat down on her bed. The weight of her secret felt heavier now that she had to reveal it to him. "I'm not who you think I am."

Angel's brow furrowed, his dark eyes locked onto hers, searching for answers. "Buffy, what's going on?"

Taking a deep breath, Buffy steadied herself before continuing. "I'm half-demon, half-Slayer," she confessed, watching his reaction closely. "I wasn't born in 1980. My name is actually Elizabeth Anne Turner. I was born in 1880."

Angel's shock deepened, his mind struggling to process the revelations she was dropping on him. "But... how?"

"There was a spell, cast by my brother Cole," Buffy explained, her voice carrying a bitter edge as she recalled the events of the past. "It was meant to protect me. Joyce isn't my biological mother. She was enchanted to believe I'm her daughter."

Understanding dawned in Angel's eyes, mingled with lingering disbelief. His brow furrowed slightly as he processed Buffy's revelations. "Why keep this from me?" he asked softly, his tone tinged with hurt.

"Because if the Source found out," Buffy continued, her voice dropping to a whisper filled with dread, "that an upper-level demon was also a Slayer... I'd be hunted down. They'd see me as a threat to be eliminated."

Angel's features softened with empathy as he reached out, gently grasping her hand. "You should have told me sooner," he said, his voice a mixture of concern and understanding. "We could have faced this together."

"I didn't know who I could trust," Buffy confessed, her gaze dropping briefly before meeting his again, her eyes filled with vulnerability. "Even Willow, Xander, and Giles don't know the truth. They think I'm Joyce's daughter and human. But you... you deserve to know who I really am."

Silence settled between them, heavy with unspoken thoughts and emotions. Angel absorbed the weight of Buffy's secret, grappling with the implications for their future together. Finally, he spoke, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him. "We'll figure this out together," he vowed, his grip on her hand tightening reassuringly.

Buffy nodded, a sense of relief washing over her at his unwavering support. "Thank you, Angel," she murmured softly, her gratitude evident in her eyes and voice. "Despite Cole's warnings about me being interested in a vampire, I've always known I can count on you."

A flicker of amusement crossed Angel's face at the mention of Cole's cautionary words. "He doesn't know me very well," Angel remarked wryly, a small smile playing on his lips. "But I'm here for you, Buffy. Always."

November 1, 1997 – Saturday

P3

The nightclub throbbed with pulsating music, the stage alive with the electric performance of Snake River Conspiracy. Prue, Piper, and Leo stood at the sleek bar, amidst the dimly lit ambiance and swirling crowd. Phoebe, clutching a festive pumpkin, breezed past a guy wielding a broom, offering him a whimsical directive before joining her siblings and Leo.

"Hey, Halloween is now officially my favorite holiday," Phoebe declared with a grin, placing the pumpkin on the bar.

"Who knew?" Piper quipped, her tone carrying a mix of amusement and relief.

"We didn't, but we should have," Phoebe reflected, her expression sobering as she acknowledged their lost heritage. "So much knowledge, so much power that we lost. But we'll get it back."

"One crash course at a time," Prue added pragmatically, her gaze thoughtful as she considered the immense task ahead.

"Yeah, it's too bad Darryl didn't feel up to celebrating with us," Phoebe remarked, concern lacing her voice.

"He saw a lot today. I think he needs some time to sort it all out," Leo offered, his voice gentle and understanding.

"Yeah, well, so do we," Prue agreed, her tone tinged with a touch of weariness. "I mean, it's bad enough that the Triad wants us dead, but to send someone back to wipe out our whole line. Do your bosses have any clue who it is?"

"None that they're sharing," Leo admitted, his expression tightening with concern.

"I think it was that guy who was hitting on Phoebe at the party," Piper mused, leaning in slightly as she scanned the room.

"Hang on, not every guy I meet wants to kill me. Maybe he just liked me," Phoebe retorted with a playful grin, tossing her hair back.

"Well, you saved Melinda. That's all that matters," Leo interjected, his voice calm and reassuring.

"And I helped deliver our great, great, great, great, whatever, great-grandmother," Piper added proudly, a touch of nostalgia in her tone.

"Too bad we couldn't save her from moving from Virginia to Salem. That would've been nice," Phoebe lamented wistfully, her gaze drifting off momentarily.

"Yeah, well, you can't change history for better or worse," Prue stated philosophically, her eyes scanning the room until they settled on a man approaching her.

"Excuse me. Hi," the man greeted politely as he reached their group.

"Micah?" Prue questioned, a flicker of recognition crossing her features as she studied him.

"Mitch, actually," he corrected with a warm smile. "Forgive my directness, but I've been watching you from across the room. Have we met?"

"You know, that's funny, I was gonna ask you the same thing. Um…" Prue said with a hint of amusement, exchanging a quick glance with Phoebe before turning her attention back to Mitch.

Phoebe chuckled softly as she watched her sister walk away with Mitch, her eyes then catching Cole descending the stairs, dressed as an angelic figure. "Oh... my turn," she quipped to Piper, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. She made her way over to Cole with a playful grin.

"Hey," Cole greeted her warmly as she approached.

"I was beginning to think I got stood up," Phoebe teased lightly, her tone playful yet tinged with curiosity.

"Yeah, sorry, work, you know. I guess I just lost track of time," Cole replied apologetically, a hint of sincerity in his voice.

"That's okay. I got kind of hung up myself," Phoebe admitted with a small smile. A brief pause lingered between them before Phoebe decided to break the silence. "So, you're an angel?"

Cole chuckled softly, a touch of self-deprecation in his expression. "Oh, uh, this?" he gestured to his costume as Phoebe laughed. "No, not really."

Phoebe moved closer to him; their proximity tinged with a hint of flirtation. "That's okay," she murmured, her voice lowering playfully. "Neither am I."