"And you didn't get a look at her face," Piper asked, turning to glance at her two running children to make sure nothing was in danger of breaking. In the past couple of years she had mellowed out a bit enough to keep from yelling at them, but not completely disregarding their wild behavior.

"No," Billy said. "There was something so familiar about her and it was like when you're thinking of a word and it's on the tip of your tongue but you're just missing it for whatever reason. I'm dying to figure it out."

Phoebe stopped typing to look up from her column. "Well, you might not know why she was familiar but what do you remember about her? Maybe we can try to project you back to that moment so you can narrow it down."

"I don't think that will work," Paige interrupted. "Billy already said that this person forced Billy back through her own projection. That has to take a hell of a lot of power. I mean, I don't know anyone that powerful and we're the Charmed ones. Sending Billy back might just give this witch another reason to hurt her."

"Are you so sure she was a witch," Billy asked the sisters. "Doesn't that sound more like a demon?"

"No demon we know has the ability to do what you're saying that woman did," Piper said. "And we haven't found any entries in the book of shadows about anything that even comes close to describing what you saw."

"So where does that leave us," Phoebe asked.

Paige, Phoebe and Billy stared at Piper who sighed and closed her eyes. "Leo," she called out in that old familiar way. However, Leo entered in an astonishingly normal way; he walked in through the kitchen to the dining room where his wife sat with her sisters and Billy.

"What do you need, hon?"

"What do you know about supernatural beings who decapitate people?"

"Methos? Are you certain?"

"I received a phone call from him," Duncan told Richie. "He had some dealings out here and there was a piece he thought I might want for my personal collection. I don't know what it was. Methos didn't go into great detail, only that he would call me after his meeting with someone who would be able to authenticate the piece. Whoever it was, they killed Methos and took off with it. I got a call from an old friend who told me that they had found Methos' head."

"That's rough, man. I never thought Methos would go out like that. He didn't give you any clues as to what it was he was trying to get his hands on?"

"No, only that I had a personal history with it."

Duncan paced back and forth before stopping and downing the drink Richie had made him. "I've lived over four hundred years," he told his pupil. "There are hundreds of things that I have a history with. You haven't heard anything from your contacts," he asked.

"No, Mac. The only things I've heard any interest about are some paintings from this up and coming artist. New pieces; nothing you would have come in contact with," Richie went back to his bar and poured himself another glass. "How do you plan on finding this person? If they really are defending themselves and not looking for trouble, what makes you so sure that you'll find them?"

"I'm not sure," Duncan told him. "And if they are killing to defend themselves than I can't really do anything to them, but I can make sure that what we're assuming is true, and if it is I can help protect them. They must be very powerful or have something of great value for all of these immortals to come after them."

"Uh," Billy exclaimed and slammed her book shut. Burying her head in her hands, the blond expelled her frustration at not being able to find what it was she was looking for.

It had been a week since Billy returned from L.A. and she hadn't turned up any new information on whatever it was she was trying to track down. Two more murders had occurred and Billy had been hot on the trail of this mystery woman but the black haired vixen was always three steps ahead of Billy and the sisters.

Leo hadn't recalled anything about demons decapitating humans or anything similar, and so the sisters had returned to their research. Paige was entering her sixth month of pregnancy and Piper wasn't that far behind her.

Of course, now that Phoebe and Paige were out of the manor, there was extra room for Piper to move the boys into another room and she was starting to decorate the nursery for Little Prue's arrival. The wallpaper had been stripped and Leo was spending a lot of time painting. It had to be the sweetest little baby room Billy had ever seen, with Prue spelled out in wood cut outs hanging from ribbons on the wall next to the crib. The walls were a pale yellow and the bedding was bright pink with birds on it.

Billy wondered what it would be like to have a family like that, digressing from her research. Her parents were gone and she had killed her sister almost three years earlier. Billy was still recuperating from that. Sure, she had gotten through school and she had managed to make amends with the sisters, but Billy knew she had a lot to make up for and would be a long time before she got around to having kids of her own. Besides, she didn't know how to trust herself let alone a man.

Getting up from her chair, Billy grabbed her purse and picked her keys up off the table by the stairs where she had thrown them earlier, right next to a picture of Piper and Phoebe with their late sister Prue before getting out of the manor for some air.

"You are right, Richie," Duncan said. "These portraits are amazing!"

"I told you. No one knows her real name, but her work is garnering well-deserved attention. Her style is very eclectic. She does everything from photography to paintings to sketching. Each piece is like a moment from a different life as if she's lived through them all. I have to show you the piece I bought from her last month," so enthused by Duncan's reaction to the artist.

"What is your piece like?" They had been investigating the murders all week with no clues to go off of. They were taking the night off to see the city and there was an exhibit at an art gallery featuring the very enigmatic artist Richie had told Mac about days earlier.

"It's otherworldly," Richie began. "It looks like a figure emerging from this pure white light and it's done in a series of three portraits. It looks like a woman emerges, a man emerges and the third part is the two figures together. It's completely ethereal and she called it 'Muirn Beatha Dan'."

"That's Gaelic," Duncan said. "It's the wiccan word for a witch's soul mate."

Richie turned to look at his teacher. "Are you okay, Mac? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"It just sounds familiar," he said. "Richie, let's go back to your place. I want to see the piece you have," Mac told his friend.

"SURPRISE!"

The crowd jumped out and yelled in unison as Henry ushered Paige into the Manor House. Paige's protruding belly seemed to enter the room before her and she smiled at the group in front of her. In the three years since the Charmed ones had vanquished the ultimate power, the Halliwells had been making up for lost time by entertaining regularly.

Moving among the crowd, Paige mingled with the guests at her Jack-and-Jill baby shower. Like Paige, the party was unique, and Piper and Phoebe had planned it less like a stuffy family affair and more like a good party. Friends from college that Paige had recently come into contact with were there, as well as cousins from her adopted family's side.

Other police from the SFPD were there and there was more than enough male companionship for Leo, Henry and Coop to survive the event, and Daryl and Sheila had made the trip from San Diego where Daryl had transferred two years ago.

All in all, it was a good time and the manor relived its previous glory days.

Duncan stared, completely entranced by the portrait. He knew this…everything about this piece was familiar. It was like he was transported to another life, and he felt everything the painting was supposed to evoke.

Peace. He felt like nothing had ever touched his soul except for love; warmth of the bright white light shielding him from any cold lingering out there in the physical world, where he had departed for eternity with her.

Her…a raven haired figure; a face obscured by the angle of her embrace with a man. In each photo, the blinding white light or her long ebony hair hid her face. "As if she doesn't want to be seen," Duncan muttered.

"What'd you say, buddy?"

Duncan turned to Richie. "This artist…are you sure no one knows anything about her?"

"I've talked to the gallery owner and he told me that he never even sees the artist. The packages arrive by courier and he pays the same way."

"So we need to find this courier," Mac told his friend. "Follow him back to the source and find out who this person is."

"Why are you so interested," Richie asked.

"Because this is what Methos meant for me to find."

"But these paintings are new," Richie said dumbfounded. "How could they mean anything to you?"

"Because she does," Duncan said looking back at the figure of a woman. "Whoever she is, I know her from somewhere."