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.

45. Chapter 45: Paige of the Past Part 1

Chapter 45: Paige of the Past Part 1

October 15, 1998 – Thursday

San Francisco Police Department

Cole shifted uncomfortably on the hard wooden bench, wedged between a reeking drunk who muttered to himself and a squatter who hadn't seen a shower in weeks. The air in the precinct was thick with the stale scent of sweat, coffee, and cheap booze, and Cole was beginning to wonder if spending eternity in the Underworld might have been a preferable fate to this. His jaw clenched in irritation, and he exhaled sharply, casting a weary glance around the bustling station.

Just when his patience was wearing thin, his sharp eyes caught sight of Buffy and Darryl heading toward him. Relief washed over him, and he let out a sigh, his posture immediately loosening.

As they approached, Cole wasted no time voicing his frustration. "Is this the way you treat every driver with a busted headlight?" he asked, his tone laced with agitation.

Darryl, unfazed, leaned down slightly, his expression unreadable. "No," he replied coolly. "Just the ones without ID." His voice carried a pointed edge, his meaning clear.

Cole huffed, but before he could retort, Buffy stepped in, crossing her arms as she leveled him with a firm look. "You're lucky Darryl isn't gonna cite you, Cole." Her tone was serious, carrying that distinct big-sister authority. Both men turned to her as she continued. "Cole, no more driving without a license."

Cole dropped his gaze to the floor, nodding slightly like a scolded teenager. "Am I free to go?" he asked after a beat. Darryl gave him a nod, and Cole shot to his feet, stretching his stiff limbs. "Finally!" he muttered, shaking off the discomfort of the bench.

Darryl's head snapped up, his expression shifting to incredulity. "Finally?" he repeated, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Cole immediately lifted his hands in surrender, forcing a strained smile. "I mean… Thanks." His voice oozed insincerity, but at least he was trying.

Darryl wasn't convinced. He scoffed, shaking his head before gesturing toward the assignment board plastered with case files and paperwork. "Finally," he echoed, his irritation bubbling over. "You think I need this?" He motioned toward the board. "You see this? It's full of open cases. Cases I should be working on. But instead, I'm stuck here cleaning up after your mess." His voice carried a growing intensity, his frustration evident.

Cole rolled his shoulders, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Hey, I don't like it either," he defended himself, his voice taking on a slight whine.

Darryl wasn't finished. He turned to Buffy now, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "It's bad enough I have to clean up after the sisters' messes—" his gaze narrowed slightly, "—your wife—"

Buffy immediately took a step forward, her eyes flashing. "Hey now—" she started, ready to defend Prue, but Cole cut her off before she could escalate things further.

"I'm just trying to fit in as a human," Cole blurted out, his voice rising with frustration. His hands clenched at his sides as he went on, "But I've got no ID, no job—" He gestured vaguely, his exasperation growing. Buffy's gaze flicked between the two men, watching as they both built up steam.

Darryl, barely hearing him, was still on his own tirade. "Does anyone ever say, 'Thank you, Darryl?'" His voice dripped with exasperation.

At the same time, Cole continued, his tone hitting a peak of self-pity. "I can't even go into a grocery store without getting arrested, and it just sucks!"

In perfect, accidental unison, both Cole and Darryl threw up their hands and exclaimed, "It just sucks!"

Buffy blinked, watching as the two men stared at each other, their mutual frustration momentarily uniting them. She slowly smirked, raising an eyebrow as she crossed her arms. "Are you two done?"

Darryl and Cole turned toward her in sync, both looking slightly caught off guard. They exchanged a quick glance before nodding simultaneously.

Buffy's smirk widened. "Feel better?"

Darryl hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck before muttering, "Yeah… I guess."

Cole let out a small sigh, his shoulders dropping slightly as he nodded. "Me too."

Buffy smirked at the two men, crossing her arms as she arched an amused eyebrow. "Good, now can you both stop whining like a pair of girls?" she teased. Before either of them could snap back, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the precinct, drawing their attention.

A panicked-looking Piper burst through the doors; her face tight with urgency. Right behind her, Paige strolled in at a much more leisurely pace, looking thoroughly unbothered by whatever had sent her sister into a frenzy.

"Oh my God, Cole!" Piper exclaimed breathlessly as she rushed toward him, her brows furrowed with concern. Cole's lips quirked up into a relieved smile, ready to bask in her worry—until she abruptly stopped in front of him and demanded, "How's my car?"

The smile slid right off his face as Buffy and Darryl snickered at his expense.

"It's fine," Cole deadpanned, his voice void of any real emotion.

Piper narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "That was the first and the last time you borrow my car," she informed him heatedly, her arms crossing in clear finality.

Buffy glanced at Piper; her expression dry. "Now you understand why Prue won't let my brother borrow her car," she remarked knowingly.

Piper sighed, rubbing her temple as if she had just aged five years. "Yeah," she muttered. Then, shaking off her irritation, she refocused on Cole. "Let's go." She jerked her head toward the exit, beckoning them forward. Turning briefly to Darryl, she flashed a grateful smile. "Thanks, Darryl."

As she moved toward the doors, she glanced at Buffy. "Need a ride home?"

Buffy shrugged. "Sure. It'll give me more time to admonish my brother for driving without a license." She sent Cole a pointed look.

Piper nodded approvingly, and the three women strode toward the exit, Cole trudging behind them with the air of a man walking toward his own execution.

As they made their way through the dimly lit parking lot, Cole groaned, raking a hand through his hair. "Being human was supposed to make my life easier," he grumbled. "Instead, it's getting worse by the minute."

Piper didn't even look at him as she casually agreed, "Yeah, I know the feeling."

Cole exhaled sharply, his shoulders tensing. "I swear, Phoebe was closer to marrying me when I was still a demon." His voice carried a bitter edge, his frustration clearly mounting.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Well, to be honest, Cole, getting busted by the cops isn't the best way to win her over."

"Oh, Buffy, gosh!" Paige cut in dramatically before Cole could respond. He turned to her, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "I'm sure Cole already feels like a big enough loser," she said with exaggerated sympathy. She turned to Cole with mock innocence. "I know I would."

Cole scowled, crossing his arms. "Oh, thanks a lot," he snapped darkly, sarcasm dripping from his words.

Paige shrugged, feigning nonchalance. Piper and Buffy, however, burst into laughter, their amusement at Cole's expense uncontainable.

Just as their laughter faded, the sharp blare of a car horn split through the air, followed by the unmistakable screech of tires. A second later, the night exploded with the deafening crash of metal crumpling on impact.

Piper's amusement vanished in an instant, her face paling. "Oh God," she murmured, her body tensing as instinct took over.

Without another word, the four of them broke into a sprint, their feet pounding against the pavement as they raced toward the scene. They weaved through a sparse cluster of trees, and as they emerged on the other side, their breath caught at the sight before them—

A car lay overturned, flames licking hungrily at its body, the fire growing with each passing second.

Cole's sharp eyes scanned the wreck. "It's about to explode," he announced, his tone urgent. His gaze immediately flicked to Piper.

Piper didn't hesitate. She lifted her hands and threw them forward, freezing the inferno in place. The angry flames stilled, flickering like a frozen frame in a movie.

"Come on," Piper ordered, dashing toward the wreck. Cole and Buffy were right behind her.

Reaching the car, Piper gritted her teeth as she tried to yank the crumpled door open. "It's stuck," she grunted, throwing her weight into it.

Cole pressed his hands against the door, his supernatural strength aiding in the effort, but it refused to budge. Frustration mounted as precious seconds ticked away.

Piper glanced over her shoulder, her expression shifting when she realized something—

Paige was not helping.

"Paige!" Piper called sharply, but her sister just stood there, frozen in place, staring at the burning wreckage. Her mouth was slightly open, her eyes wide with a faraway look that sent a spike of worry through Piper's chest.

"I got it," Buffy cut in, her voice determined. Before anyone could react, she shimmered out of sight.

Inside the car, Buffy appeared in the cramped space, smoke curling around her as the unconscious woman lay slumped against the seat.

"PAIGE!" Piper's voice rang out again, louder this time, but her younger sister remained eerily still.

A second later, Buffy reappeared outside the car, the unconscious woman now draped over her shoulder.

"Careful," Piper warned instinctively, though her relief was evident.

"Let's go!" Buffy barked.

Cole moved quickly, grabbing the woman's other arm, and together he and Buffy dragged her away from the wreck. They had barely made it to safety when the suspended moment shattered—

Piper's freeze wore off.

The fire roared to life, and with an earsplitting BOOM, the car erupted into a violent explosion.

The force sent a shockwave through the air, making Piper stumble forward with a startled cry. Buffy and Cole instinctively shielded the woman as a wave of heat blasted past them.

As the flames engulfed the remains of the car, Paige remained rooted in place, staring into the inferno as if she wasn't truly there.

Piper turned to Paige, her concern now outweighing her frustration. "What happened to you?" she asked carefully, keeping her voice even.

Paige didn't respond. She just kept staring at the wreckage, her face pale, her lips slightly parted as if she wanted to say something but couldn't.

"Paige!" Piper tried again, this time more forcefully.

Still, Paige didn't answer. The flickering firelight cast eerie shadows over her face, her wide, unblinking eyes locked onto the smoldering wreckage as if trapped in a nightmare only she could see.

October 16, 1998 – Friday

Halliwell Manor

Phoebe rushed down the stairs, her bare feet barely making a sound on the polished wood as she pursued Cole. Her brows were drawn together in confusion, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "Cole, why are you being so vague?" she demanded, her voice carrying a mix of frustration and concern.

Cole was already at the front door, shrugging on his coat with a deliberate lack of urgency, which only fueled her exasperation.

"I only asked you where you were going," she continued, her tone pleading now as she descended the last few steps.

"And I told you," Cole responded evenly, sparing her a glance over his shoulder. "I'm going to get a life."

Phoebe let out a breath, tilting her head as she gave him a look. "See, now that's the vague part I'm talkin' about," she pointed out, resisting the urge to throw her hands in the air. "The last time you left like this..." She sighed, her frustration giving way to something more vulnerable. "...you went out and got a gun."

Cole's expression softened slightly, and he turned fully to face her. "I'm not getting a gun," he assured her, his voice firm, as he pulled his coat tighter around him.

"You better not be," Buffy interjected, her sharp voice cutting through the tension. She and Prue entered the foyer, both of them dressed in casual morning attire, clearly on their way to the kitchen for breakfast. Buffy shot Cole a disapproving frown as she passed.

Cole rolled his eyes slightly but didn't respond.

"Good, that's good," Phoebe said, exhaling in relief as she stepped closer to him. But her worry remained. She reached out, touching his arm gently. "But please, tell me what's wrong?" she begged, her hazel eyes wide and searching.

Cole hesitated before exhaling deeply, running a hand through his dark hair. "It's just—" He paused, glancing away for a second before stepping closer to her. "I need action."

Phoebe's lips quirked up ever so slightly, her gaze sweeping over him in a way that sent an unmistakable message. "I kind of thought we were doing okay in that department," she said, arching a teasing brow.

Cole huffed a small laugh but shook his head. "Not that kind of action, Phoebe," he clarified, though he did appreciate the sentiment.

Phoebe nodded, her playful expression fading as she listened intently.

"I went from all-powerful demon to mere mortal overnight," he explained, his voice edged with frustration.

Phoebe immediately shook her head, her hands moving to his chest as if she could physically push the thought away. "You are not mere," she countered firmly. "Baby, you are anything but mere."

Cole gave her a pointed look, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "Next to the Charmed Ones, my sister, and Faith, I'm a potted plant," he argued, his tone dry but laced with self-deprecation.

Phoebe blinked, momentarily taken aback by the comparison. "What?" she asked incredulously, staring at him as if he'd lost his mind.

"But last night…" he continued, his voice dropping slightly as he glanced away, lost in the memory. "…helping to get that woman out of that car felt so good." There was something raw in his tone, something desperate.

Phoebe smiled softly, reaching up to cup his face. "That's because you're a good man," she whispered, her thumb brushing against his cheek.

Cole's expression remained serious, his eyes flickering with doubt. "Well, I won't last as one without a reason to get up in the morning," he admitted, his voice thick with something unspoken.

Phoebe flinched slightly, her breath catching. "You have me," she reminded him, her voice softer now, almost hesitant, as if she was afraid to hear his response.

Cole's face fell, his eyes filled with something that made Phoebe's heart clench. "That's all I have, Phoebe," he said gently, not meaning to wound her but knowing the truth of it would sting nonetheless.

Phoebe swallowed, her throat tight, but before she could respond, Cole leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek. When he pulled back, his deep blue eyes met hers, filled with uncertainty.

"And I'm not even sure I have that," he murmured, his voice quiet and heavy.

Then, without another word, he turned and stepped out the front door, closing it behind him with a quiet finality that echoed through Phoebe's chest like a distant, breaking storm.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Phoebe strode into the kitchen, her arms flailing slightly as if to physically throw her frustration into the air. "Am I the world's biggest bitch or what?" she asked loudly, her voice filled with exasperation.

Her three sisters and cousin turned toward her at once, sharing a glance before Piper broke the silence. She lifted her coffee cup, blowing on the steam before muttering dryly, "Nah, too easy."

Buffy, who was leaning against the counter with her own cup of coffee, glanced at Phoebe with an amused expression. "Of course you're not, Phoebe," she said smoothly, her tone reassuring. Phoebe's tense shoulders relaxed slightly, a small, grateful smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

But before she could settle into that relief, Buffy turned her gaze pointedly to Prue. "That title's already taken."

Piper gasped in exaggerated horror, nearly spilling her coffee as she turned wide eyes to Prue. Phoebe's own jaw dropped slightly as she stared between her sisters, fully expecting a dramatic fallout.

Prue, frozen in place, coffee cup hovering mid-air, narrowed her eyes dangerously at her wife. Her expression remained unreadable for a long moment as Buffy took a smug sip of coffee, her hazel eyes glinting with playful mischief.

Then, Prue calmly set her cup down, turned her full attention on Buffy, and smiled—sweetly.

Too sweetly.

Buffy's smirk faltered slightly.

Without warning, Prue leaned in as if to kiss her, her lips barely brushing Buffy's cheek before smack! She delivered a firm, but playful slap to the back of Buffy's head.

"Ow," Buffy muttered, shaking her head as she rubbed the spot. But instead of looking offended, she smirked again and, with a swift motion, snaked an arm around Prue's waist, yanking her closer. "I deserved that," she admitted with a slight chuckle.

Prue nodded in agreement, a satisfied smile playing on her lips as Buffy pressed a kiss to her head.

Leo, who had been watching the exchange with mild amusement, turned to Phoebe. "Why do you think that?" he asked kindly, his voice full of the patience only an angel could possess.

Phoebe exhaled a long, heavy sigh and slumped onto a stool. "Cole vanquished his demon half," she started, reaching for the coffee pot. "He gave up everything he had ever known for me, and I can't even muster up a simple 'yes' to marriage." She huffed as she dumped an ungodly amount of sugar into her mug, stirring with unnecessary aggression.

Leo, ever the voice of reason, offered gently, "You're not the marrying type." His words weren't meant as an insult, but a defense—one she had used on herself plenty of times before.

"Or so she keeps telling herself," Faith muttered from her seat, idly playing with the edge of a napkin.

Phoebe froze mid-stir, her spoon clinking against the mug as she turned her wide, vulnerable eyes on her cousin. "You think I am?" she asked, her voice unusually small, as if she weren't sure she wanted the answer.

Faith met her gaze steadily. "I think…" She paused, choosing her words carefully. "You're afraid."

Phoebe frowned, glancing toward Prue and Piper for support, but they both nodded in agreement. She scoffed, shaking her head as she turned away from their knowing expressions. "Of what?" she asked, feigning nonchalance as she made her way to the fridge, pulling out the milk.

Prue didn't hesitate. "Cole's humanity," she stated firmly as Piper and Faith nodded in unison.

Phoebe hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly around the milk carton as she returned to the counter.

Buffy, watching Phoebe carefully, added, "He was actually a much safer boyfriend when he was a demon, since he could defend himself."

"Even though he could rip your throat out with his teeth," Piper added matter-of-factly, scraping the last of the scrambled eggs onto a plate. Her tone was casual, but the weight of her words hung in the air, making Phoebe blink.

Phoebe looked between her sisters, sister-in-law, and cousin, her brows knitting together in clear confusion. "You want to explain that to me?" she asked, her voice sharp with curiosity.

Immediately, as if choreographed, Prue, Piper, Faith, and Buffy all turned to Leo in perfect synchronization.

Leo sighed, running a hand over the back of his neck as he stepped forward, already regretting that the burden of explanation had been silently shoved onto him. "On some level, you knew it couldn't last: a demon and a witch," he began, his tone gentle yet firm as he met Phoebe's eyes.

"Hey," Prue interjected, her voice cutting through the room like a blade. "I'm making it work, Leo."

Leo winced slightly, realizing he'd just put his foot directly into his celestial mouth. His eyes flicked toward Prue, who sat next to her wife, Buffy, a distinct challenge in her posture. Unlike Cole, Buffy was still part-demon, and despite the odds, she and Prue had built a solid, thriving marriage. Leo cleared his throat, quickly shifting his attention back to Phoebe before Prue decided to glare him into oblivion.

"But now that Cole is human, the safety net's gone," he continued, refocusing on his original point. "For the first time in your relationship, the future lies in your hands."

Phoebe nodded absently, her lips pursing into a pout before she let out a dramatic sigh. "Yeah," she muttered, then abruptly shook her head. "Okay. I don't want to analyze me anymore." She straightened, lifting her chin defiantly. "Let's try somebody else." Her gaze flickered around the room, searching for another topic to latch onto. Her eyes landed on the absence at the table. "How's Paige feeling this morning?" she asked, her tone deliberately bright, an obvious attempt at changing the subject.

Piper, still slightly miffed, handed a breakfast plate to Buffy. "No idea," she answered, not bothering to hide her irritation. "She flew out the door this morning like nothing happened," she explained, her voice laced with exasperation.

"Which means…" Prue interjected knowingly, leaning forward on her elbows, "…that we still don't know why she froze up." She sighed, rubbing her forehead, clearly troubled.

"That is so weird," Phoebe mused, shaking her head in quiet disbelief. Her eyes flickered to Leo and Faith just as the two of them exchanged a quick but unmistakably knowing glance—one that neither of them seemed eager to acknowledge. She frowned, tilting her head slightly. "I mean, she can handle demons now, but she can't handle a car wreck?" she continued, her voice tinged with frustration. She glanced at her sisters, expecting some kind of answer, but Prue and Piper only shrugged.

"Yeah, it doesn't make any sense," Piper admitted, sighing tiredly as she absently scratched her head.

Buffy, however, wasn't looking at Piper or Prue—she was watching Faith. Something about the way her fellow Slayer was suddenly avoiding all eye contact, the way her posture had stiffened ever so slightly, caught Buffy's attention like a flashing red light. She glanced at Phoebe, who had also picked up on the tension, her eyes now locked onto Leo, watching him curiously.

Buffy turned her attention back to Faith and Leo, narrowing her eyes. "Uh…" she called out, drawing both of them out of their avoidance act. She pointed between the two of them, her gaze sharp and questioning. "What's going on here?"

Piper's gaze snapped to her husband and cousin, her frown deepening as she scrutinized their faces. Leo's usual calm demeanor was now laced with hesitation, while Faith, ever the tough one, suddenly looked way too interested in her plate of food.

Phoebe cleared her throat and arched a brow, her lips twitching in a smirk. "Um… if you put your nose any deeper into that coffee cup, you're gonna need a snorkel," she pointed out smartly, eyeing Leo over her own steaming mug.

Leo's head jerked up, eyes wide like a kid caught sneaking cookies before dinner.

Prue wasn't about to let Faith off the hook either. She stabbed a finger into the brunette Slayer's arm, making her flinch mid-bite. "Yeah, and if you…" she prodded again, "…stuff anymore food into your mouth, you're gonna choke to death."

Faith froze, fork hovering halfway to her lips, then slowly set it down, her chewing suddenly feeling very loud in the silence that followed.

Piper crossed her arms, her suspicion hardening into something sharper. "What do you know?" she demanded, her voice clipped, her gaze bouncing between Leo and Faith.

Leo hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. "Paige… told me something in confidence," he admitted carefully, choosing his words with the precision of someone defusing a bomb.

Piper's eyes narrowed further. "Okay." Her tone was deceptively calm, but the underlying tension was unmistakable. "But it's kind of a dangerous time for us, Leo. If she freezes up again at the wrong moment, are you gonna be sorry you didn't tell us?"

Leo exhaled, his gaze shifting toward the ceiling as if searching for divine guidance. He opened his mouth—

"Don't!" Buffy's voice cut through the room like a blade, sharp and commanding. All eyes snapped to her as she leveled a firm look at Leo. "Don't say what you're about to say if it's what Paige told you."

Prue, Piper, and Phoebe turned to Buffy in unison, their reactions ranging from shock to frustration.

"Buffy!" Piper whined, throwing her hands up.

Buffy held her ground, shaking her head. "No, Piper. Paige told Leo in confidence, and when she froze up, it had nothing to do with magic or demons. So, it's none of our business." Her voice was steady, resolute, leaving no room for argument.

Phoebe huffed dramatically, her frustration bubbling over. "Buffy!" she whined again, punctuating her annoyance by kicking the island with her foot.

Prue's head turned so slowly toward Phoebe it was almost comical. Hands settling on her hips, she raised an unimpressed brow. "Phoebe Elizabeth Halliwell, you are not four years old. Do not kick the furniture," she reprimanded smoothly.

Phoebe pouted but quickly averted her gaze, suddenly very interested in her hands.

Prue turned her attention to Piper next, her tone shifting from chastising to pointedly reasonable. "Would you want Leo to tell us something that you told him in complete confidence?"

Piper frowned, considering for only a second before shaking her head.

Prue hummed knowingly before shifting her sharp gaze to Phoebe. "Mmm. What about you, Miss Phoebe?"

Phoebe sighed dramatically before slumping forward. "…No."

"Didn't think so," Prue muttered in satisfaction before slowly turning toward Faith, an almost playful smirk creeping across her face. "But you, however…" She dragged out the words, tilting her head. "You found out all by yourself, didn't you?"

Faith met Prue's eyes, hesitated for only a second, then nodded.

"Spill."

Faith exhaled, shifting in her chair before finally speaking. "Not so much found out," she corrected, "but she did tell me… after I saw the look on her face last night."

"What look?" Buffy asked, her sharp Slayer instincts honing in on Faith's carefully measured words.

Faith's lips pressed together briefly before she sighed. "Fear," she admitted quietly, a shadow crossing her face. "I recognized the look because I've seen it in the mirror… after Kakistos killed my Watcher."

The room fell into a weighted silence, the air thick with unspoken understanding.

"So, I asked her if she wanted to talk about it," Faith continued, her voice subdued in a way that was rare for her. "She told me that her parents… died in a car wreck." She exhaled; the words heavy with grim finality.

The room fell into a heavy silence, thick with shock and understanding. Prue, Piper, Phoebe, and Buffy all froze, their expressions shifting from curiosity to something more solemn.

"Oh my god," Phoebe whispered hoarsely, barely able to find her voice. The weight of Paige's unspoken grief settled over them like a dense fog, pressing down on their chests.

Piper straightened, arms folding over her chest as if steeling herself against the emotions swirling inside her. "When did that happen?" she asked, her voice softer than usual, edged with quiet sorrow.

Faith shifted in her seat, eyes flickering with an old, familiar pain. "When she was in high school," she answered, pausing as she did the mental math. "That'd make it 'bout… eight years ago."

Leo, who had been respectfully silent up until now, finally spoke, his voice low and measured. "And she never really dealt with it," he said knowingly. Now that the secret was out, he felt he could at least contribute to the discussion, though it didn't make the truth any less painful to say aloud.

Prue nodded slowly, her fingers curling around her coffee cup as she exhaled. "Well, of course not," she murmured, shaking her head slightly. "How do you deal with something like that?" she asked rhetorically, her voice tinged with a quiet sadness.

Faith leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, her fingers lacing together as she stared at the polished wood grain. "At such a young age, you don't," she said simply. Her voice was steady, but there was something in her tone—a shadow of her own past.

She took a deep breath before continuing. "I remember when my mom bound my powers and sent me into hiding with the Lehanes. It was such a confusing time—losing everything I knew, trying to figure out who I even was after that. Even though the circumstances around losing her parents were different, the same would still be true for Paige."

Piper bit her lip, her gaze flickering toward the doorway, as if expecting Paige to suddenly appear. Her arms dropped to her sides, fingers curling into her palms. "She was all alone," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. There was something raw in the way she said it—like the realization had physically pained her.

Phoebe exhaled through her nose, her brows knitting together as she wrapped her hands around her mug. "So…" she began hesitantly, shoulders lifting in a small shrug, "maybe we could help her deal with it?" Her voice was quieter now, tentative, almost as if she feared her suggestion was too little, too late.

South Bay Social Services

Paige sat at her desk, gripping the phone a little too tightly as she leaned forward, her voice professional but clipped. "No, I'm not family," she told the person on the other end, forcing her tone to remain even. "I'm from Social Services. I was just calling to see how she was after the accident." She listened intently, her free hand drumming anxiously against the desk as the person spoke.

Her shoulders sagged with relief when she heard the news. "Thank God," she murmured, a small, fleeting smile touching her lips. "Okay, uh… I'll just call back and check in on her. Thank you." She set the phone down, exhaling slowly, but before she could process anything further, movement in her periphery caught her attention.

Her three sisters and cousin strode into the office, their faces painted with concern. She stiffened immediately, knowing exactly why they were there.

"Hi. Got a minute?" Prue asked gently as they reached her desk, her tone calm but full of purpose.

Paige barely spared them a glance as she scooped up a handful of files. "No," she answered briskly, standing up with a determined air. "I'm busy, guys." She didn't wait for their reaction, slipping past them with practiced ease, her steps quick and deliberate.

"Uh… we just want to talk. It's kind of important," Phoebe tried again, keeping pace with her, while Faith, Piper, and Prue exchanged glances behind them.

"Yeah? So is my work." Paige replied curtly, her voice clipped as she tightened her grip on the files. "Maybe later."

Piper tried next, her voice softer. "Paige, it's about what happened last night."

Paige's jaw clenched. "Not right now," she insisted, her tone final, her body rigid.

"Paige, they're your sisters, and I'm your cousin," Faith added, hoping that the reminder of their connection might break through whatever wall Paige was putting up.

But Paige had reached her limit. "I said, not now!" she snapped, her voice ringing through the office, sharp and unyielding. The force of her words halted them in their tracks, leaving behind a heavy silence as she turned on her heel and stormed off.

Faith, Prue, Piper, and Phoebe shared a collective sigh, their gazes flitting between one another before they resumed following her, quieter now, more cautious.

"Paige," Phoebe called again, this time with more conviction. Paige came to an abrupt stop and slammed her files down onto a nearby desk.

"We know about your parents," Phoebe said softly, her voice laced with quiet compassion.

Paige squeezed her eyes shut, her chest rising and falling with measured breaths.

"Phoebe," Prue murmured in warning, sensing her younger sister pushing too far too fast, but Phoebe wasn't about to back down.

"We're worried about you," she continued gently. "And we want you to know that you're not alone."

Piper stepped forward; her voice equally soft but no less firm. "And we're here for you."

Paige inhaled sharply through her nose, blinking away the sting behind her eyes before finally turning to face them. Tears glistened along her lower lashes, threatening to spill over. "Fine," she rasped, her voice uneven, betraying the emotions she was fighting to contain. "But just not here, okay?" Her expression was a mixture of vulnerability and desperation—she wasn't ready for this conversation, not in public.

Faith took a slow step forward, stopping close enough to offer support but not reaching out, knowing Paige needed the space to decide how much comfort she could handle. "Okay," she whispered, her voice barely carrying over the hum of the office.

Paige looked at her cousin, appreciating the closeness without the pressure of touch, silently grateful that Faith understood without words. She swallowed hard and squared her shoulders. "I'll just tell my boss I have to leave," she muttered, glancing down as if the movement would steady her. "We'll talk at home." Without another word, she turned and strode out of the room, leaving her sisters and cousin standing in the wake of her emotional retreat.

Phoebe turned to Piper, their eyes glistening with unshed tears before shifting their attention to Prue, who wasn't faring much better.

Prue managed a weak smile as she stepped closer to them, blinking rapidly to chase away the tears threatening to form. She reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Piper's ear in an absentminded gesture of comfort. "She'll be okay," she assured them, her voice more confident than she actually felt.

Faith, sensing the unease lingering in the air, draped an arm over Phoebe's shoulders, offering a small squeeze of reassurance.

Phoebe sighed, leaning into Faith's shoulder, her voice small and uncertain. "I really hope so," she whispered.

Piper pursed her lips, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "What if we can't help her?" she asked, her voice laced with quiet worry.

Faith bit her lip, her gaze steady. "Then we find someone who can," she said simply, the unwavering determination in her voice leaving no room for doubt.

San Francisco Police Department

Cole strode through the precinct doors with a confidence that hadn't been there in weeks. A wide grin stretched across his face as he navigated through the bustling room, weaving between officers and desks with a determined energy. His gaze landed on Andy's desk, only to find it empty. Undeterred, he pivoted and honed in on Darryl instead, his smile never wavering.

"Got a minute?" he asked smoothly, stopping beside Darryl's desk.

Darryl didn't bother looking up from his paperwork, his tone flat and unwavering. "Whatever it is, no." He jabbed his pen toward the wall behind him. "You see this assignment board?"

Cole glanced at the chaotic mess of pinned-up cases, the names and reports crammed together in a haphazard display of overwhelming workload.

"Yeah," Cole nodded, undeterred. "Well, that's why I'm here. If you've got such a heavy caseload, let me help you."

Darryl finally looked up, an exaggerated smile spreading across his face—one that was all sarcasm and no warmth. "Oh, you want to help?"

"Yeah." Cole grinned, completely serious.

Darryl's fake smile didn't falter as he grabbed Cole's arm in a vice-like grip. "Great," he said, his voice dripping with forced enthusiasm as he yanked Cole towards the exit. "You can help me by following that little exit sign right there."

Cole yanked his arm free with a frustrated huff and, without warning, shoved Darryl into a deserted office, shutting the door behind them.

Darryl spun around, eyes flashing with irritation. "That's it? You want to fight?" He snapped, stepping forward. "Because without the ability to throw energy balls, I think I can take you!"

Cole exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before leveling Darryl with a serious stare. "Look, just relax, alright?" His voice carried an edge of desperation, the frustration barely concealed beneath his even tone. "I need to get back in the game."

Darryl's stance shifted, his anger momentarily cooling as he eyed Cole warily. "What game?"

"The good versus evil game," Cole stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It's all I know."

Darryl blinked, then let out a short, disbelieving laugh. "Oh, wow." He gestured at Cole, pointing as if the idea was so absurd it needed to be physically called out. "You wanna be a cop?" His voice climbed with incredulity.

Cole turned to him, his expression dead serious. "I worked for the DA's office—I know the law. I was a former demon—I know the streets."

Darryl shook his head slowly, his disbelief still outweighing his ability to process what he was hearing. "You wanna be a cop?" he repeated, the sheer ridiculousness of the statement making it difficult to say anything else.

"I want to help with your investigations," Cole clarified with an easy smile, as if that somehow made his request any less insane.

Darryl's brows shot up. "As a cop?"

"On my own," Cole corrected again, his voice still carrying that same cool conviction. He took a step closer, lowering his voice just slightly. "Of course, the DA investigators are still after me, but you could close that case—clear my name, get my identity back—and I could—"

"NO!" Darryl shouted, cutting him off. He shook his head violently, his hands going up in exasperation. "No, no, no! Now you're talking crazy!"

"No!" Cole shot back, his voice sharp, his patience wearing thin. "What's crazy is me sitting around the manor all day with nothing to do!" His jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "All I got in my head; all I could do with it—going to waste! Now that is crazy!"

Their tense standoff was abruptly interrupted as the office door swung open and its rightful owner stepped inside, eyebrows raised in clear irritation.

Darryl immediately whirled around, his frustration snapping into professionalism in an instant. "Captain," he greeted with a curt nod.

The captain folded his arms, staring them down. "Mind if I get my office back?" His tone made it very clear that he wasn't asking.

Darryl let out a slow breath and held up his hands in surrender. "No, sorry," he muttered before turning back to Cole, his voice dropping as he shot him a warning look. "We'll talk about this later."

Cole nodded once, then quickly made his exit, slipping past the captain and out of the office before Darryl could change his mind about keeping things civil.

Halliwell Manor

The four sisters sat close together on the couch, their bodies angled toward Paige, whose posture was rigid, tense, as if bracing for the memories that threatened to consume her. She perched at one end, her arms folded tightly across her chest, while Piper sat at the opposite side, her expression unreadable yet filled with concern. Between them, Prue and Phoebe leaned slightly inward, forming a protective barrier around their youngest sister.

Across from them, Leo occupied a chair, his hands resting on his knees, his eyes steady but soft. Buffy and Faith sat side by side on a sofa, both of them mirroring each other's casual yet alert posture, ready to jump in if needed. No one spoke, allowing Paige the space to continue, but the room was thick with an unspoken promise—she was not alone in this.

Paige took a shaky breath, her fingers picking at the hem of her sweater. "So, I wasn't the ideal high school student, you know?" She hesitated, her gaze flickering to the floor as if searching for the right words. "I, um… I skipped classes, partied all night with my friends. Pretty much anything they wanted to do; I was up for." She let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking her head as she stared at some distant point beyond them all.

There was a brief silence before Prue shifted, tilting her head slightly toward Phoebe, who had nestled her chin against Prue's shoulder, listening intently.

Piper smirked, glancing at the youngest Halliwell beside her. "Sounds like somebody else we know," she commented knowingly.

Phoebe, startled, lifted her head with a mock-offended look. "Hey!" She turned sharply to Prue, searching for support, only to roll her eyes when Prue simply smirked at her. Huffing dramatically, she resettled herself, resting her chin back onto her sister's shoulder with a pout.

Buffy, watching the exchange with amusement, arched a brow before casting a sideways glance at Faith. "Sounds like someone else we know."

Faith snorted softly but shrugged. "I wasn't always the party girl," she admitted, the edge of her voice rougher than usual. "Not till the Lehanes became drunks. My life was pretty normal before that." A shadow passed over her eyes, dark and fleeting, before she looked down at her hands. "I didn't start rebelling 'til they started beatin' me in a drunken rage."

A brief but weighted silence filled the room. Piper reached out and gave Faith's arm a small squeeze, wordlessly acknowledging the weight of what had been said.

After a pause, she turned back to Paige, her tone gentle. "What I mean to say is that high school is a time of searching and figuring out who you are. It is for everybody." Her voice was even, reassuring, meant to ease some of the burden Paige was placing on herself.

But Paige only scoffed, her shoulders curling inward as she turned away slightly. "Yeah, but I was…" she swallowed hard, her voice cracking, "…cruel, especially to my mom and my dad." Her hands clenched against her lap. For the first time since she started talking, she dared a quick glance at her sisters and Faith, but the warmth in their eyes made her look away just as quickly.

She inhaled deeply before continuing, her voice barely above a whisper. "The day they died… I told them they weren't my real parents."

The confession hung in the air like a physical blow.

Paige's lips trembled as her eyes welled up, the guilt so thick in her voice that it made Prue's chest tighten. "Which is stupid because it wasn't even how I felt," Paige continued, voice shaking. "I mean, just because I'm adopted didn't mean they weren't my real parents, because…" Her breath hitched, and a small, bittersweet smile played on her lips as her mind wandered back. "They were."

"Of course they were, honey," Prue reassured her immediately, her voice soft but firm. She leaned forward slightly, her gaze steady as she tried to ground her sister in the truth. "They raised you, loved you every second of your life, and they knew how much you loved them back."

Paige blinked rapidly, biting down on her lip hard, fighting against the emotion threatening to spill over.

"A few… choice words on a bad day do not cancel out all of that love, Paige," Prue continued with certainty, reaching out and taking her hand in a firm, grounding grip. "Every teenager in the world lashes out at their parents at some point, says something cruel just to get a reaction. That's what teenagers do—they test boundaries with the people they know will love them no matter what."

Prue held her gaze, making sure Paige heard her, really heard her. "Your parents knew you never meant a single word." She gave Paige's hand a squeeze. "They knew."

Piper and Phoebe exchanged a look, both of them nodding slightly. It was one of those moments where Prue's ability to say exactly what was needed shone through.

Phoebe shifted slightly, pressing her cheek against Prue's shoulder before lifting her head to catch Paige's gaze. "Prue's right," she said gently. "You were just feeling lost, and you made a mistake." A soft chuckle escaped her as she shook her head. "Trust me, I made so many mistakes, but I got through them. And I changed." She gave Paige a small, encouraging smile. "So have you."

Paige swallowed thickly, staring at her sisters and cousin for a long moment before lowering her gaze. "Not in time," she murmured, her voice barely audible.

But the words were like a stone dropping into still water.

Leo, who had been silently watching, leaned forward slightly. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice low and careful.

Paige let out a shaky breath. Her fingers twisted together in her lap, and her whole body seemed to curl inward, as if trying to make herself smaller. "It was, um… family night," she began hesitantly, her voice thin and frayed.

Everyone immediately tensed, exchanging worried glances.

Piper turned her head slightly, searching for Leo's eyes. He read her silent plea and was on his feet in an instant, moving to perch on the couch's arm behind her, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder.

Prue subtly shifted, catching Buffy's gaze as Buffy and Faith both moved forward, slipping off the sofa to perch on the edge of the coffee table.

It was a silent statement—We're here. We're listening. You're not alone.

Paige noticed.

She let out a breath, her lips twitching into the faintest of smiles, appreciating the unspoken support. It steadied her just enough. "It was just something we did every week," she said softly, her voice carrying a distant, far-away quality. A small, sad shrug lifted her shoulders. "Family night." Her lips parted slightly, and her eyes became glassy. "And my dad… he left the fire station early to pick up my mom and me."

"Your dad was a fireman?" Phoebe interrupted; her voice gentle yet laced with admiration. A small, wistful smile crossed her lips as she leaned forward, eager to grasp onto something good in Paige's painful story.

Paige nodded, her breath hitching slightly as she whispered, "Yeah." The word barely made it past her lips, thick with emotion, as fresh tears clogged her throat.

"Brave man," Buffy said sincerely, her voice carrying deep respect. There was no hesitation in her tone, only a quiet reverence for a man who had dedicated his life to saving others.

Paige smiled faintly, touched by the recognition of who her father had been, but just as quickly as the warmth came, it vanished. Her face crumpled slightly, the memories pushing their way back to the surface.

"I started bitching," Paige admitted, her voice tinged with self-loathing. The sharpness of her own words made her flinch, and her fingers curled into her palms. "About how I was too old for this, how it was super lame, and…" She swallowed hard, her throat burning as she fought against the tightness constricting her chest.

She hesitated, her breath quivering. "…He just lost it," she whispered, her eyes distant, as if she could still see that moment playing out in front of her. "He was so angry with me." Her voice cracked, and the first tear fell, tracing a slow path down her cheek.

"He was so angry with me," she repeated, her voice now shaky and uneven as she fought against the sobs building in her chest. "That he—he didn't—he didn't see the car that swerved…"

The words shattered as a sob broke free, cutting off her sentence.

Prue felt the painful tremble in Paige's grip and tightened her hold, offering silent strength. Faith and Buffy, not needing words, each placed a hand on Paige's knees, grounding her, reminding her that she wasn't alone in this moment.

Paige inhaled sharply; her breath unsteady. "That swerved into our lane and…" Her lips wobbled, and she let out a sharp, bitter laugh—one that barely masked another sob. "…The next thing I know, I'm on the pavement. The car's on fire."

She shook her head softly, her eyes unfocused as she stared into nothingness. The memory played in front of her like an old film reel—vivid, inescapable.

When she finally glanced around the room, what she saw wasn't sympathy—not the kind that made her feel pitied. Instead, she saw love. She saw hurt, but not because of her story—it was because they hurt for her.

Phoebe's eyes were wide, shimmering with barely restrained tears. Piper blinked rapidly, forcing back the moisture gathering in her own eyes for Paige's sake. And Prue—strong, steady Prue—had fresh tears silently slipping down her cheeks, something that caught Paige off guard. For a brief second, the shock of seeing Prue cry almost pulled her out of her pain, but then the weight of her grief dragged her back in.

"I still don't know why I… survived and they didn't," Paige whispered, shaking her head. Her voice was so quiet it was almost lost to the heavy stillness in the room. Her hands clenched against her lap, her nails digging into her palms as if punishing herself for the cruel twist of fate.

"But you can't blame yourself for that," Phoebe said softly, her voice tender yet pleading, as if her words alone could lift the unbearable weight Paige carried.

Paige let out a single, hollow sob and looked up, her expression raw with emotion. "Well… I feel guilty every single day," she countered firmly, her voice filled with a pain so deep it made Phoebe's heart squeeze.

A deep breath filled Piper's lungs, and she finally spoke, breaking the heavy silence. "I know it's hard…" Her words were slow, careful, as though she was afraid that if she spoke too suddenly, Paige might shatter completely.

At the same moment, Paige's silent sobs intensified, her shoulders shaking, and Prue shifted instinctively. Without hesitation, she grasped both of Paige's hands, holding onto her tightly, anchoring her.

"…But you've got to try and move forward," Piper urged, her voice both gentle and firm.

Paige let out a breathless, incredulous laugh, her tear-streaked face twisting with disbelief. "How can I move forward, Piper?" she questioned, shaking her head. "I killed my parents."

A strangled noise escaped Prue, and more tears fell as she reached up, brushing them away from Paige's cheeks with trembling fingers, only for new ones to replace them. "Oh, sweetheart," she choked out, her voice thick with emotion. More tears welled in her own eyes, slipping past her defenses. "Paige," she whispered, her voice nothing but love and sorrow. And then, unable to hold herself back any longer, she pulled Paige into her arms.

Paige didn't resist. She collapsed into Prue's embrace, gripping her older sister desperately, burying her face into Prue's shoulder as sobs wracked her body.

Piper closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply, trying to steady herself before tipping her head back toward Leo. Her voice came out small, almost pleading. "What do we do?" She looked lost, desperate for an answer. "How do we help her deal with something that happened in the past?"

Phoebe remained quiet, watching the heartbreaking scene unfold, feeling utterly helpless.

Leo met Paige's pain-filled, tear-streaked gaze and spoke with quiet certainty. "Send her back to it."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

"Okay, wait." Phoebe halted, carefully lighting the last candle in the attic before straightening to her full height. The soft glow flickered against her face as she glanced at Leo with narrowed eyes. "I don't get it. You want to summon the ghost of the past?" she asked, skepticism clear in her tone. "From where, the fiction shelf?"

"Dickens didn't make that stuff up," Leo replied curtly, his expression serious as he folded his arms across his chest. The candlelight cast sharp shadows along his face, making him look even more resolute. "He was visited by a malevolent spirit."

Phoebe arched a brow, tilting her head. "Doesn't malevolent mean bad?"

From her place beside Prue, Paige let out a tired hum of agreement, her head resting against Prue's shoulder as if she was using her eldest sister as both a support and a shield from whatever weirdness was about to unfold.

Leo nodded slightly. "Clyde's not the friendliest ghost that I know," he admitted, his voice carrying the weight of experience, "but he is the only one who helps the living visit their past." He shrugged as if that alone justified summoning what sounded like a supernatural nightmare.

Piper crossed her arms, her brows knitting together. "Clyde?" she repeated flatly, her lips twitching in amusement. "The malevolent spirit's name is Clyde?"

Phoebe let out a small chuckle, shaking her head at the absurdity, while Prue's lips curved into an amused smirk of her own.

"Yeah… he doesn't like it either," Leo admitted, his own smirk growing.

Paige lifted her head slightly from Prue's shoulder, rubbing at her temple. "Wait, we're using bad magic to time travel? Should I be worried about any of those personal gain issues?" Her voice carried a tinge of unease, as if expecting the universe to suddenly slap her with magical consequences.

"Not at all," Leo assured her, his voice steady. "You're only going back to learn why your parents died. That's all."

"Yeah," Prue nudged Paige gently, prompting her to turn her way. "It's gonna help you, not harm you."

Paige exhaled, still uncertain but nodding anyway.

Leo glanced around the room, making sure everyone was prepared. "Everyone ready?"

Piper, Phoebe, and Buffy nodded without hesitation, their expressions set with determination. However, Prue, Paige, and Faith exchanged puzzled glances, lingering confusion still etched into their faces.

Prue furrowed her brows slightly. "Don't we need a summoning spell?" she asked hesitantly, her gaze flickering between Leo and the candles that had been so meticulously arranged.

Leo shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "No, Clyde ignores them." He smirked, lifting one finger as if preparing for a grand reveal. "There's only one way to get Clyde down here."

Everyone watched him expectantly.

Then, suddenly, Leo threw his head back and bellowed toward the ceiling, "CLYDE! GET YOUR BUTT DOWN HERE, YOU FETID WORM FROM THE BOG OF ETERNAL STENCH!"

The sisters, along with Buffy and Faith, immediately shot him either confused or deeply concerned looks.

Leo glanced at them. "You got to make him mad," he explained nonchalantly, before looking back up and yelling even louder, "YOUR MOTHER WAS A CHUNKY SUBSTANCE FROM A DJINN'S CESSPOOL! AND SHE SMELLED BAD TOO!"

The room went eerily still for half a second—just long enough for a sinking feeling to settle in everyone's stomachs.

Then, without warning, a violent wind erupted in the attic, howling through the space like a small cyclone. Candles flickered wildly, some nearly snuffing out, as a swirling vortex formed in the center of the circle, spinning faster and faster until it abruptly materialized into a solid figure—a very angry-looking man.

His brown hair was disheveled, his clothes old and slightly tattered, and his face covered in uneven stubble. He exuded an aura of barely restrained irritation, like someone who had been woken up far too early from a satisfying dream.

Phoebe instinctively moved closer to Piper, while Prue and Paige inched toward Buffy, their movements slow but deliberate.

Clyde turned, his eyes scanning the room with barely veiled agitation, but when he spotted Leo, his anger flickered—only slightly.

"LEO!" Clyde bellowed, stomping forward. "I WAS WITH A CLIENT!" His voice, though less than a shout, was booming with indignation. "1969, Woodstock! Hendrix was on-stage!" He threw his hands up as if the offense was too great to even comprehend. "This better be good."

Leo remained steady, completely unfazed by the ghost's display of frustration. His voice was calm but firm as he met Clyde's irritated glare. "I need you to take Paige here…" he gestured toward her briefly before locking eyes with the spirit, "…back to the day of her greatest pain."

Clyde's expression shifted instantly, his annoyance melting away into something resembling excitement. "A job!" he exclaimed, straightening up like a man who had just been promised a hefty payday. "Why didn't you just say so in the first place?"

"Not a job," Leo corrected, stepping forward purposefully. His stance remained firm, unwavering. "A favor."

Clyde's sudden enthusiasm vanished as quickly as it had come, replaced by a scowl. "I don't do charity work!" he snapped, his voice dark and gruff, as if the very concept offended him on a personal level.

"You owe me, Clyde," Leo reminded him, his tone brooking no argument. His gaze was sharp, carrying the weight of past dealings. "Or do I need to remind you of your client that I healed? The one you sent back from the past on the edge of a cliff?" Leo pressed, his words deliberate, almost taunting.

Clyde's jaw tightened, his body stiffening slightly.

Leo didn't let up. "I believe there were thirty-two broken bones."

Clyde grumbled under his breath; his irritation clear as he waved a dismissive hand. "Alright, alright. I remember." He exhaled roughly, rubbing the back of his neck before turning his piercing gaze toward Paige.

Paige instinctively flinched at the weight of his scrutiny, her body tensing slightly, but she held her ground.

"You sure you want to do this?" Clyde asked, his voice booming through the attic like rolling thunder. "I only open the door to the past. I don't guarantee no safe trip." His eyes narrowed, as if waiting for her to reconsider.

"Obviously," Piper cut in, her voice loud and flat, thick with sarcasm.

Clyde's head snapped toward her with a glare, but she simply raised a brow, unbothered.

Paige took a slow breath, her fingers curling into the fabric of her jeans before she straightened her shoulders. "Yeah," she answered with quiet determination, forcing herself to meet Clyde's intense stare. "I need to do this."

Clyde held her gaze for a beat longer before letting out a sharp exhale. "Fine," he muttered. He turned back to Leo, his expression hard. "You guide her," he ordered, his words clipped.

Then, with a snap of his fingers, an old door materialized in the center of the attic, standing ominously in the candlelit room.

Faith took a step forward, positioning herself beside Leo. "I'm going with you," she stated firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Paige could use someone who's been in her shoes. And who better than someone who's lost three sets of parental figures—my birth mother, Mrs. Lehane, and my Watcher."

Leo studied her for a moment, the weight of her words settling between them. Then, with a nod of understanding, he silently accepted her decision.

Piper and Phoebe had already moved toward Paige, their presence warm and reassuring as they stood close to her.

Leo turned to them; his expression laced with quiet warning. "I won't be able to hear your call," he informed them, his voice edged with concern. Then, his gaze flicked toward Prue, searching her face. "You guys will be on your own."

"We'll be okay," Piper assured him, her voice strong despite the unease simmering beneath it. She shot him a pointed look. "You and Faith just take care of Paige."

Leo and Faith nodded in unison.

Paige turned to her sisters and Buffy, her nerves threatening to bubble up, but when she met their eyes, all she saw was unwavering support.

Buffy gave her a small nod.

Prue smiled at her gently, the kind of smile that spoke of unconditional love and trust. "It'll be okay," she promised, her voice steady.

Paige swallowed thickly, her heart hammering against her ribs as she turned back to Clyde. With one final breath, she nodded.

Clyde exhaled and, with a flick of his wrist, the old door creaked open, revealing a vast, inky void beyond its threshold. Inside, white smudges floated eerily like drifting echoes of the past.

Paige hesitated, her breath catching in her throat as the sheer emptiness threatened to swallow her whole.

Leo stepped closer and whispered near Paige's ear, "Just don't look down."

Paige nodded once, her fingers tightening into fists at her sides—then, before she could second-guess herself, she jumped.

Leo and Faith followed immediately after, stepping into the abyss.

Clyde peeked around the open door, his eyes glinting with mischief as he zeroed in on Piper and Phoebe. "How's about you two?" he asked, his voice taking on a silky, almost coaxing quality. "Care for a little trip to the past? See it all a second time?" He grinned, trying to tempt them, his fingers drumming against the old wooden doorframe.

No one noticed the two wispy, white-grey floating essences slip silently out of the open door, drifting unnoticed into the dim attic air like ghosts seeking new homes.

"My rates are steep but fair," Clyde added, a smirk curling at his lips as he watched for any flicker of interest.

Phoebe turned her head, exchanging a glance with Piper before returning her attention to Clyde. A playful glint lit up her eyes. "Can you take us back to meet John Lennon?" she asked, her tone hopeful, almost dreamy at the prospect.

Before Clyde could even respond, Piper snapped, "No." Her voice was firm, leaving absolutely no room for debate.

Phoebe jumped slightly at her sister's sharp tone, then quickly backpedaled, clearing her throat. "No," she repeated, shaking her head vigorously. "No. Right. We'll pass."

"Suit yourself," Clyde dismissed with a casual wave of his hand before his eyes drifted toward Prue and Buffy. The two women stood close together, caught in some quiet exchange of smiles that made them oblivious to the trickster ghost watching them.

A slow, amused smirk spread across Clyde's face. "How about you lovebirds?" he mocked, his voice dripping with false sweetness.

Prue's smile vanished in an instant, her eyes narrowing into a hard glare.

Buffy, however, just shrugged. "Actually…" she started, stepping forward ever so slightly.

Prue's hand shot out, grabbing Buffy's arm in a death grip. "Nope." Her eyes widened in warning as she yanked her wife backward. "We're good, thanks," she said through gritted teeth, forcing a tight smile in Clyde's direction.

Clyde simply shrugged, clearly amused, then swung the door shut with an effortless flick of his wrist. With a snap of his fingers, the doorway to the past vanished into thin air as if it had never been there at all.

"If you ever need my services, just yell," Clyde instructed, giving them all a knowing look before disappearing in a swirl of supernatural energy, leaving only a faint shimmer in the air where he once stood.

The moment he was gone, Prue rounded on Buffy, her hands firmly on her hips, her expression nothing short of livid. "What was that?" she demanded, eyes locked onto her wife like a laser beam.

Buffy blinked innocently. "Curiosity?" she offered, though the slight quirk of Prue's brow immediately had her backtracking. "No? Uh… stupidity?" she guessed again, wincing slightly.

Prue's smile turned dangerously sweet, her expression one of pure satisfaction.

Buffy let out a small sigh of surrender. "Right. Stupidity." She nodded quickly, a sheepish grin tugging at her lips. "Won't happen again."

Phoebe chuckled at their exchange, shaking her head in amusement before her expression sobered. "We need to be here when Paige gets back," she reminded them, her voice taking on a more serious note.

"Yeah," Piper agreed, rubbing her hands together as she formulated a plan. "I'll cook dinner, and we can just hang out for a while."

Her sisters nodded in agreement, the idea of a comforting, familiar routine grounding them in the face of the unknown.

But Prue couldn't shake the weight pressing against her chest. She turned to her sisters and Buffy, concern shining openly in her eyes. "I hope this plan works," she admitted, her voice flat but heavy with unspoken fears.

Without another word, she, Buffy, and Piper left the attic, their footsteps echoing faintly down the stairs.

Phoebe lingered behind, watching them go with a small, sad smile. She exhaled softly, her mind drifting—so much was at stake, and there were no guarantees.

She was so lost in thought that she didn't notice the swirling essence drifting toward her.

Not until it was too late.

The spirit slipped into her chest like a breath of cold wind, a sudden jolt shooting through her body. She gasped, doubling over slightly, her fingers clutching at the fabric of her shirt as a strange sensation coiled inside her.

Then she straightened.

A slow smirk curved her lips, but something was off. Her stance shifted, looser, more confident—like someone slipping into a comfortable old skin.

When she spoke, her voice carried an unfamiliar lilt—sultry, Southern, dangerous.

"So do I," she murmured, her eyes darkening with something unnatural. Her gaze flicked upward, catching sight of the other lost soul hovering near the ceiling, aimless and waiting. She grinned, her tone now smooth and promising. "Don't worry, Frankie, I'll find you a body too."

With that, she turned and strode confidently out of the attic, leaving only the flickering candlelight in her wake.

October 8, 1990 – Monday

Matthews Home

"AH!" Paige yelped as she was hurled through the swirling doorway, landing hard on the floor with a pained grunt. She barely had time to recover before Leo and Faith tumbled out right behind her, both landing with slightly more grace but no less impact.

"Rough ride," Leo muttered, pushing himself to his feet as Faith swung the door shut behind them. The instant it closed, it vanished into thin air, as if it had never existed. He turned his focus back to Paige, who was already dusting herself off. "You okay?" he asked, concern lacing his tone.

"Yeah, I'm all right." Paige waved him off before catching sight of herself in the nearby mirror. Her jaw dropped. "I'm all wrong!" she shrieked, stumbling forward for a closer look.

Her reflection stared back at her—fringe, braces, bad early '90s clothes. A horrifying wave of nostalgia crashed over her as she ran her hands down the sides of her oversized plaid shirt. "Oh my god! I saw Scrooged! I'm supposed to come back as a ghost, not a ghost with braces!" She whined, cringing at the flash of metal in her mouth.

"You're meant to relive the experience, not just observe it, Paige," Leo reminded her, his voice level but firm.

"Yeah, but…" Paige groaned, spinning away from the mirror. "I just wanted to come back, sit on the sidelines, and make sarcastic comments about my lack of style," she moaned, moving slowly around the room, taking in every little piece of her past that surrounded her.

Faith smirked from where she stood, arms crossed. "Just take a look around, Paige," she advised in a calm, knowing tone.

Paige obeyed, her initial horror giving way to something softer—something warm. Her fingers brushed over her old dresser; the edges worn from years of use. She glanced at the posters on the wall—bands she hadn't thought about in forever, actors she once swooned over. Slowly, a smile crept across her face, stretching wider as the memories rushed back.

"Hey." She grinned, turning to Faith. "You're right. I was cool even then," she mused, nodding at her own reflection with newfound approval.

Faith chuckled, leaning against the wall. "Of course you were," she agreed. "And I should know—I had the same kind of style. Pure rebel." She winked, and Paige laughed.

"Oh!" Paige gasped suddenly, eyes lighting up as she darted toward her dresser. She lifted a small silver necklace, holding it delicately between her fingers as if it were a sacred artifact. "Philip Lewicki gave this to me," she announced, her voice suddenly dreamy. "My first love."

Faith and Leo exchanged amused looks as Paige clutched the necklace to her chest. Then, as if an idea struck her like lightning, she perked up and turned to them, her expression hopeful. "Can I call him?" she begged, her eyes practically sparkling with nostalgia-fueled excitement.

Leo exhaled, shaking his head with an amused but firm expression. "That's not why we're here," he reminded her patiently.

Paige pouted, ready to argue, but a sudden, loud knock on her bedroom door made her jump. Her heart leapt to her throat as she turned wide, panicked eyes to Leo and Faith. "What do I do?" she whispered urgently, as if answering the door might disrupt the fabric of time itself.

Faith smirked. "Open the door," she replied simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Paige swallowed hard and nodded, steeling herself as she took slow, cautious steps toward the door. Her fingers hovered over the doorknob for half a second before she forced herself to turn it, pulling the door open hesitantly.

Standing on the other side was a tall, middle-aged man with kind eyes and a warm but firm expression.

Paige felt her breath hitch in her throat. "Dad?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, her eyes wide with shock and something far deeper—something aching.

"Are you ready for school?" Mr. Matthews asked, his tone casual, oblivious to the storm of emotions brewing inside her. "You don't want to miss your ride."

Paige let out a light, carefree giggle, throwing her arms around her father in a tight, almost desperate embrace. She clung to him as if afraid he might slip through her fingers, relishing the solid, familiar warmth of his presence. It had been so long since she'd felt this—since she'd been able to wrap her arms around him and just hold on.

Mr. Matthews chuckled at first, patting her back. "What's with all this—" he started, then abruptly cut himself off, his expression hardening. His eyes darted around the room, scanning for the source of the unmistakable odor that had suddenly struck him. "Is that smoke I smell?" His gaze snapped toward the open window, his voice sharpening.

Paige stiffened, shaking her head quickly, her innocent expression forced but hopeful.

Mr. Matthews didn't buy it. His lips pressed into a tight line as he strode purposefully across the room. With a swift motion, he reached out and stubbed out the cigarette on the windowsill, his movements tense with barely contained frustration. The sharp sound of the cigarette being extinguished echoed like a gavel striking down a guilty verdict.

Turning back to Paige, his shoulders squared, his eyes dark with disappointment. "You know… I don't know how much more of this your mother and I can take," he told her seriously, his voice quiet but heavy with the weight of his frustration. He didn't wait for a response—he simply shook his head and walked out, leaving Paige standing in the wake of his words.

Paige exhaled sharply, guilt gnawing at her insides as she quickly followed him, her feet moving on instinct.

"Wait. Wait," Leo called, stepping in front of her before she could descend the stairs. "Where are you going?"

"To talk to my dad," Paige answered simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Her voice was soft, tinged with something raw. "Did you see that look in his eyes? I can't believe I hurt him like that." She sighed, shaking her head, the same disappointment her father had carried now settling in her chest like a heavy stone.

"Rules first," Leo stated, his tone firm as he blocked her path. "To find what you came here for, you need to follow the same path you took eight years ago." His gaze locked onto hers, unwavering.

Paige frowned, crossing her arms. "What if I don't remember?" she asked, knowing full well that some memories were blurry at best.

"Faith and I'll guide you," Leo assured her, his voice steady. "You're the only one that can see us. Just don't forget the goal. You're here to learn what really happened the night your parents died."

Paige's lips pressed together as she mulled over his words. Finally, she nodded, her resolve strengthening. "I understand." She met his eyes, the gratitude evident in her expression. "Thank you, Leo." Then, with a tilt of her head, she gestured for him to move. "Now step aside."

Leo smirked slightly but obeyed, stepping back as Paige continued forward.

Faith, who had been silent for a while, glanced at Leo as they followed Paige down the hall. "I get where Paige is coming from," she admitted, her voice quieter, more introspective. "I would love to go back and show my mom—my birth mom—what I'm like now." There was a wistfulness to her tone, a longing she rarely allowed to surface.

Before Leo could respond, Paige stopped abruptly, her body going rigid. Her parents' voices carried softly from the kitchen, but the words felt like a hammer to her chest.

"Why? What did she do this time?" Her mother's voice—tired, drained, as if the weight of parenting a rebellious teenager had become too much.

"She was smoking again," her father replied, the frustration still thick in his voice. "This time in her bedroom. And when I went in, she had the nerve to give me this big hug like I wouldn't get mad."

Paige swallowed hard, her fingers tightening into fists at her sides. Slowly, cautiously, she pushed the swinging door open just a crack, just enough to see.

There they were. Seated at the kitchen table. Her mother's shoulders were slumped, her hands resting limply around a steaming cup of coffee. Her father sat opposite her, his fingers tapping against the tabletop, his jaw tight with frustration. The exhaustion in their eyes, the silent battle between disappointment and love—it was all so painfully real.

"She told me she quit smoking," Mrs. Matthews murmured, her voice carrying a sadness so deep it made Paige's stomach twist.

Mr. Matthews let out a bitter scoff, his grip tightening around his coffee cup as he leaned back in his chair. "Oh yeah, right," he muttered, the weight of exhaustion pressing into his voice. "Just like the time she quit drinking... and then passed out at another one of those damn parties. And who had to go pick her up and drag her home? Me." His lips curled in frustration as he shook his head, the memory clearly still fresh and raw.

Mrs. Matthews sighed, rubbing her temple as if trying to ease the throbbing ache of years of stress. "School called yesterday," she announced, her voice flat but tinged with disappointment. "You know, she's cutting her classes again."

Mr. Matthews let out another sharp breath, setting his mug down with a dull clank. "She's not gonna get into college if she keeps this up," he stated grimly, his tone edged with frustration and helplessness.

Mrs. Matthews let out a humorless laugh, the sound hollow. She pushed back her chair abruptly, the legs scraping against the floor as she stood. "Oh, well haven't you heard?" she said, her voice rising with sarcastic disbelief. "She's not going to college."

Mr. Matthews narrowed his eyes, his jaw tightening as he picked up his plate and followed his wife to the sink. "Well, we'll see about that," he muttered, his tone carrying the quiet determination of a man unwilling to give up, even when the battle felt impossible.

Paige stood frozen just outside the door, her breath catching in her throat. Her fingers trembled as she let the door fall closed in front of her, shutting herself off from the words that felt like blades slicing into her. Her parents' disappointment clung to her like a suffocating weight, pressing down on her chest.

"I changed my mind," Paige whispered, her voice barely audible, but the anguish in it was unmistakable. Tears pricked at her eyes, blurring the world in front of her. "I can't go in there. They think I'm awful… I was awful." Her voice broke on the last word, the shame of her past self crashing down on her like an unforgiving tide.

Leo stepped closer, his expression calm but full of understanding. "It's alright," he soothed, his voice steady but gentle. "You can do this. Just… remember why you're here."

Faith, who had been watching quietly, finally spoke up, her voice carrying an unwavering conviction. "Leo's right," she said firmly, meeting Paige's tearful gaze. "This is why I'm here, remember? Because I know what you'll be going through, reliving this. And I know you're strong enough to handle it."

Paige swallowed hard, nodding slowly as she inhaled deeply, trying to steady herself. She forced a smile onto her lips, willing her emotions back beneath the surface. This wasn't about her pain—it was about the truth. She had to see this through.

With a breath of false confidence, she pushed open the door and stepped inside, her smile broadening as she forced a lightness into her voice. "Mom!" she called happily, her tone deliberately chipper.

Mrs. Matthews, caught off guard, stiffened and turned slowly from the sink, her hands still damp from the dishwater. Her brow furrowed in confusion as she took in her daughter's uncharacteristic enthusiasm.

"Oh my god!" Paige cried, crossing the kitchen in a few quick strides and throwing her arms around her mother in a fierce, desperate hug. She squeezed tightly, inhaling the familiar scent of soap and laundry detergent, the warmth of her mother's embrace something she never thought she'd feel again. "I've missed you so much," she murmured against her mother's shoulder, holding on just a little longer than necessary.

Mrs. Matthews hesitated, her arms hovering slightly before she finally returned the embrace, though her confusion was evident. "Oh?" she asked, tilting her head slightly. "What's gotten into you?"

From behind her, Mr. Matthews barely spared her a glance, his voice dry and unimpressed. "What did I tell you?" he muttered, his skepticism unwavering.

Mrs. Matthews straightened up again, slipping out of Paige's grasp and turning back toward the sink. The warmth of the moment dissipated just as quickly as it had come.

Paige faltered, caught off guard by their indifference. Her mind scrambled for a way to keep their attention, to hold onto this fleeting connection. "Uh..." she stalled, her hands fidgeting slightly before she nodded resolutely. "You guys, I… I have an announcement to make." She lifted her chin slightly, feigning confidence. "Starting now, I… I'm turning my life around."

She expected some kind of reaction—surprise, maybe even cautious optimism. Instead, her father didn't even look up from his plate.

"You're not borrowing the car," he replied instantly, his voice flat, as if he'd already anticipated whatever scheme she was about to pull.

Paige's face fell, her forced smile slipping away as the weight of their skepticism hit her like a brick. They didn't believe her. They wouldn't believe her. Not after everything she'd put them through. And maybe, just maybe… they had every reason not to.

Paige clenched her fists at her sides, her heart pounding as she stared at her parents. She could feel the frustration bubbling up inside her, the desperation clawing at her chest. She had come back to this moment to understand the truth, to make sense of everything that had led to their deaths. But now, faced with their indifference, their doubt, it hurt in a way she hadn't expected.

"No, I mean it," she insisted again, her voice stronger this time, laced with urgency.

Her father let out a dry, humorless laugh, shaking his head as he leaned against the counter. "Yeah," he scoffed, "like you meant it when you said you were gonna stop cutting classes?"

Paige felt the sting of his words like a slap, but she swallowed it down, shifting her focus to her mother. "Uh, Mom, you understand me," she said, her voice dipping into something softer, almost pleading. She took a small step forward, eyes darting between them. "You've got to believe me."

Mrs. Matthews turned slowly, and the look in her eyes made Paige's stomach twist. There was no anger, no frustration—just hurt. A deep, tired disappointment that weighed on every line of her face.

"Oh, so now I'm Mom?" she asked, arching a brow. "Last night, we weren't even your real parents."

The words hit Paige like a freight train, knocking the air from her lungs. The memory surfaced instantly—the way she had shouted it in the heat of an argument, the venom in her voice when she had thrown it at them like a weapon. She had wanted to hurt them, to push them away before they could push her first.

Her throat felt tight, but she forced herself to meet her mother's gaze. "No, you are," she insisted, voice cracking slightly. "I was just saying that…" She hesitated, looking down at the floor before whispering, "...to hurt you."

For a moment, she swore she saw something flicker in her mother's eyes—an understanding, a glimpse of warmth—but just as quickly, she turned away again, brushing her hands off on a dishtowel. "Did you feed the cat?" she asked her husband, as if the conversation hadn't just happened.

"Yeah," Mr. Matthews muttered, his attention already drifting away.

Paige's mouth fell open slightly, the dismissal cutting deeper than she thought possible. She turned to Leo desperately, silently pleading for guidance, but all he did was offer a small shrug, his expression unreadable.

"Guys, please," Paige tried again, stepping closer. "I am not a screwup! I promise I'll change. I promise I'll go to college, and—" Her voice broke as she saw them continuing their routine as if she weren't even standing there. "Oh, please stop!" she cried, throwing her hands in the air, her eyes burning. "Please, we need to talk."

Finally, her father turned back to her, his arms folding across his chest. "Well, you are right about that," he said, nodding. "And we are going to talk—about everything—tonight, at dinner."

Paige felt her stomach drop. A cold dread crawled up her spine, squeezing the breath from her lungs. "Dinner," she echoed, the weight of the word settling over her like a heavy blanket. "The family dinner."

Leo's voice was sharp, cutting through her spiraling thoughts. "Paige, be careful."

She barely heard him. She felt trapped in the moment, caught between what she knew was coming and the helplessness of not being able to change it.

"Please," she tried again, her voice quieter now, trembling. "We really need to talk before we drive."

But before either of them could answer, a loud honk from outside shattered the moment.

"Oh, Paige, that's your ride," her mother said, glancing at the clock.

The honk blared again, sharp and impatient. Paige winced, looking over her shoulder at the window. She knew exactly what would happen if she left. She knew where this path ended.

Leo stepped beside her, his voice low but firm. "You have to follow the events of the day, Paige. No exceptions."

Her breath hitched. She turned back to her parents one last time, searching their faces for something—anything—that would make this easier. But they had already moved on, going about their morning as if her world hadn't just cracked open.

The horn blared again, louder this time. Paige bit the inside of her cheek, blinking back the sting in her eyes.

With a deep breath, she turned and stormed out of the kitchen, her heart hammering in her chest.

October 16, 1998 – Friday

Halliwell Manor

Piper moved with practiced ease around the kitchen, opening cabinets, gathering spices, and preheating the oven. The scent of herbs and garlic already filled the air, mingling with the subtle sweetness of the roasting vegetables. She tapped a wooden spoon against the counter thoughtfully, glancing at the neatly arranged ingredients.

"I don't think I've ever cooked for Paige before," she mused, rolling up her sleeves and reaching for the pork roast. "I hope she likes pork roast."

"She does," Prue said confidently from her seat at the counter, only to pause a beat later, her brow furrowing. "I think she does." There was a flicker of uncertainty in her voice, the weight of lost time pressing against her usual assuredness.

Across the kitchen, Phoebe was preoccupied with her reflection in the small mirror affixed to the fridge. She tilted her head, pouting slightly as she examined her face, then ran a hand through her hair, fluffing it at the roots.

"Just out of curiosity..." she began, voice airily casual. "...do you think that I am a natural beauty, or is this more like..." She made a dramatic face, contorting her features in exaggerated thought, "...one of those gym bodies?"

Prue turned to her incredulously, arms crossing over her chest. "What?"

"Oh, Phoebe, please," Piper dismissed with an absent wave of her hand, not even looking up from the meal she was preparing. "Like you haven't always been beautiful."

Phoebe smirked, clearly pleased with the response. She adjusted the hem of her top, pulling it lower off her shoulders in a slow, deliberate movement, her fingers grazing her collarbone. "Oh, that's good," she purred, her voice slipping into a smooth southern drawl. "Because I hate lifting heavy objects."

Piper, now chopping rosemary, let out a short laugh. "What is with the Blanche DuBois?"

Prue smirked as well, but there was something sharper in her gaze as she studied her sister. "Yeah, Pheebs," she mused, her tone casual but her eyes suspicious. "Accents were never your thing."

Before Phoebe could respond, a familiar voice cut through the air.

"Phoebe."

Cole strode into the kitchen, his presence instantly shifting the energy in the room. His dark eyes flickered with warmth as he smiled at her, closing the distance between them effortlessly. "Hi." His voice was low, affectionate. He bent down, pressing a brief but firm kiss to her lips.

Phoebe gazed up at him, her expression unreadable for a moment—then, slowly, a sultry smile curled her lips. "Oh, if you're the most, to say the least," she murmured, her gaze dragging over him appreciatively.

Cole blinked, tilting his head in mild confusion. "Did I… miss something?" he asked, glancing around, his instincts pricking at the odd atmosphere.

Before anyone could answer, a sudden, unseen force shot toward him. The wandering soul, previously hidden by the kitchen's warm glow, struck his body like a bolt of lightning. Cole's posture stiffened instantly.

A slow smirk played on Phoebe's lips. "Yeah," she answered his unasked question, voice thick with amusement. "Me."

Cole's lips curled into a smirk of his own, his expression shifting into something more primal, more ravenous. Without hesitation, he scooped her up effortlessly, his strong arms locking around her waist as he pulled her against him.

Then, without warning, he crushed his mouth to hers.

The kiss was heated, desperate, entirely unlike their usual playful affection. His grip was firm, possessive, and Phoebe melted into it without resistance, her fingers tangling in his shirt as he held her flush against him.

Across the room, Prue's eyes widened at the blatant display. She spun quickly in her chair, twisting to face Piper, who remained completely oblivious, still focused on dinner preparations.

"I think this sister's night is a good idea," Piper mused, her back to her sisters, entirely unaware of the chaos unfolding behind her.

"Piper," Prue whispered harshly. "Piper!"

Piper moved with practiced precision, sliding on an oven mitt and carefully pulling a golden-brown homemade pie from the oven. The scent of warm cinnamon and flaky crust filled the kitchen, wrapping the space in a comforting, nostalgic warmth. She smiled in quiet satisfaction, balancing the dish carefully as she turned toward the table. "I mean, there's still so much we don't know about Paige..." she mused aloud, her tone thoughtful.

But her voice abruptly died in her throat.

Her grip on the pie faltered as she caught sight of the spectacle unfolding just beyond the table. Phoebe and Cole were locked together, completely absorbed in each other, their lips moving with an urgency that had no business being in the middle of the Halliwell kitchen. Piper's eyes widened, her mouth falling open in stunned silence.

"...yet," she finally managed, the word escaping as more of a breath than actual speech.

She turned slowly to Prue, who was already staring at her, arms folded in an I told you so stance.

Prue threw up her hands in exasperation. "Finally!" she huffed, as if she had been waiting far too long for Piper to catch on. Without wasting another second, she spun back around toward the couple. "HEY!" she barked, her voice slicing through the tension. "You two, knock it off!"

Phoebe and Cole froze mid-kiss, caught like two teenagers sneaking around after curfew. Without hesitation, Cole dropped Phoebe to her feet, and before anyone could blink, the pair made a beeline—not away from the confrontation, but straight for the pie Piper had just set down.

In their mad dash, they barreled straight into Prue's chair.

"OH!" Prue yelped, her arms flailing as she tipped backward. She landed with a hard thud against the floor. "Ow," she groaned, glaring up at the ceiling.

Piper gasped and quickly scurried around the counter, reaching down to pull her sister up.

"You, okay?" she asked, concern laced in her voice.

Prue shot her a deadpan look, rubbing her elbow. "Ow," she repeated pointedly. Piper took that as a yes and nodded, turning back toward the real disaster.

And that's when she saw them.

Phoebe and Cole were devouring the pie—literally ripping it apart with their hands, shoving fistfuls into their mouths like they hadn't eaten in days. Crumbs scattered across the table, sticky filling smearing against their fingers. They were utterly oblivious to the scandalized looks being shot their way.

Piper's jaw hit the floor. "HEY!" she cried, her voice rising in utter disbelief. "What is the matter with you two?!"

Phoebe and Cole both froze, cheeks puffed with half-chewed pie. Slowly, guiltily, they dropped their hands, looking like kids caught sneaking sweets before dinner.

"That is for Paige!" Piper snapped, her eyes flaring with fury.

Cole swallowed his bite hastily and cleared his throat. "Sorry, ma'am," he apologized, attempting a charming smile. "We're starving," he added with a chuckle.

Phoebe grinned wickedly. "In so many ways," she purred suggestively, licking a smear of pie filling off her thumb.

Piper groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Uh-huh," she said flatly, her patience running razor-thin. "Well, go to lunch." She gestured sharply toward the door, as if shooing them away before they could do any more damage.

"Good idea," Cole agreed instantly, swiping Piper's keys off the counter. He slung an arm around Phoebe's waist, tugging her against him in one fluid motion. "Let's cut out, Lulu," he murmured, dipping his head to claim her lips again.

Prue, having finally recovered from her unfortunate tumble, cocked her head at the nickname. "Lulu?" she echoed, her brow furrowing in curiosity. A light chuckle escaped her lips—then, all at once, realization slammed into her like a freight train. Her eyes went wide. "OH!" she blurted, pointing at them with an accusing finger, her whole body going rigid. "OH!"

Phoebe and Cole barely spared her a glance, too wrapped up in their own world.

But Prue wasn't done. "OH!" she cried again, each exclamation growing louder, her eyes nearly bulging out of her head as she connected the dots.

"Alright," Piper cut in sharply, spinning on her heel and raising a hand. She was done with whatever this was. "Enough with the pet names and the accents in the kitchen!"

Prue, however, didn't budge, her gaze locked firmly on the couple like a hunter tracking prey. "Piper, don't," she warned, her voice low, serious. Her eyes never left Phoebe and Cole.

Piper waved a hand dismissively, still focused on the meal she was preparing. "And could you come up with something better than Lulu?" she scoffed, barely sparing them a glance. "It sounds like a poodle."

Prue squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her fingers to her temple as frustration spiked through her.

"Damn it, Piper," she muttered under her breath, already sensing the shift in the air. A deep, predatory silence followed, thick with danger. Prue's eyes snapped open, tracking the movement near the counter, just in time to see Cole reaching for something—his fingers curling around the handle of a large kitchen knife. Her heart skipped a beat. "Shit."

Cole's expression had darkened, his jaw clenched, eyes locked onto Piper with a menacing intensity.

Before she could think twice, Prue launched herself into his path. "Whoa!" she exclaimed, throwing up her hands in what she hoped was a disarming gesture. "Uh… hi." She forced a tight smile, though her pulse pounded in her throat as her eyes darted to the gleaming knife in his grip.

Cole remained eerily still, his gaze cold, assessing.

Prue swallowed hard and pressed on. "Um… she—she didn't mean that." Her voice was deliberately light, placating. "Piper was just kidding. Lulu is a lovely name." She shot a quick glance at Phoebe grasping for anything that might de-escalate the situation. "Very classy," she added, nodding enthusiastically.

Phoebe—no, not Phoebe—Lulu smirked, clearly enjoying the scene unfolding before her.

Cole paused. His grip on the knife tightened, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he moved.

Prue barely had time to register the motion before the handle of the knife slammed into her temple. A sharp burst of pain erupted in her skull, and she reeled back, stumbling violently into the counter.

Her head cracked against the corner of the cabinet with a sickening thud.

The room tilted. Darkness swept in like a crashing wave.

She was out before she hit the ground.

Piper, lost in her world of cooking, barely registered the commotion behind her. But the sudden, heavy thump—the unmistakable sound of a body collapsing—ripped her attention away from the stove. She spun around, eyes landing on Prue's crumpled form. "Oh my god!" she gasped, the color draining from her face. "Prue!"

Piper barely had a second to process what she was seeing before a sharp, cold sensation pressed against the delicate skin of her neck. "What the—" Her breath hitched as she felt the unmistakable bite of a knife's edge against her throat. "AH!" she squealed, her body going rigid as Cole's arm cinched around her shoulders like a steel trap, holding her immobile against him.

His breath was hot against her ear. "Are you making fun of my girl?" he growled, voice dangerously low, pressing the blade just a little harder into her skin.

Piper winced, barely daring to breathe.

Lulu clasped her hands together, her eyes alight with joy. "My Frankie is so protective," she gushed, swaying slightly, as if utterly charmed by the violence unfolding before her. Her gaze flickered toward Prue's unconscious form sprawled across the floor, then back to Piper, utterly pleased.

"Frankie," Piper echoed numbly, heart hammering. Then, realization clicked into place. She squeezed her eyes shut. "Shit."

Cole—Frankie—yanked Piper closer, the blade grazing just enough to make her skin prickle with fear.

Piper sucked in a sharp breath. She turned her head slightly, her gaze locking onto her possessed sister. "And Lulu," she muttered, deadpan.

Lulu smirked. "Hi," she drawled, lifting a hand in a dainty little wave.

Piper barely had time to steel herself before Lulu delivered the final blow.

"We're ghosts," she cooed, her grin widening.

"Boo," Frankie whispered mockingly into Piper's ear. She shuddered at the sensation.

"And we've been waiting for about fifty years to finish a job," Lulu continued, stepping forward, her movements slow, calculated—like a predator savoring the moment before the kill.

Panic coiled in Piper's stomach.

"So…" Lulu purred, tilting her head as she stopped right in front of her, just within striking distance. "...now if you'll excuse us—"

Before Piper could react, Lulu swung.

The blow landed hard, knuckles colliding with Piper's jaw with brutal force.

Pain exploded across her face, white-hot and dizzying. Her vision blurred.

Her legs buckled beneath her.

As she fell, the back of her head cracked against the unforgiving floor.

Then—blackness.