The Choice of Eight

[EvergreenMountaineer]

-28-
Deceased Lives and Final Decisions

The Millers were back in the glade this time, but it was later in time than when they and the Halliwells had first been there to watch the Miller's parents fighting demons. Again, Laurel Miller was standing in the glade next to the boulder, but this time, a man accompanied her, his large hand in hers; her husband, Greg. His eyes were dark and handsome, his nose and mouth of perfect proportions. His hair was black and shining, parted neatly in the middle of his head. The darkness of his skin suggested a different nationality than Laurel, but they seemed to be a perfect match. His broad, strong shoulders countered her smaller frame, but both seemed comfortable around one another. When he spoke, his small, thin mustache twitched.

“Babe, there's no one he-” his deep voice was cut off by Laurel's thin, graceful finger that had pressed against his lips, warning him to be silent. Her hand fell to his chest, sher hand quivering slightly, and he pulled her a touch closer to his solid body for comfort. Laurel was shaking, remembering her past in this glen, where she had feared for her first-born child's life. Now, almost ten years later, her four girls were safely at home under the protection of Mindi, Laurel's faithful whitelighter, unaware of what their mother and father were facing.

Now, Laurel knew she was up against a powerful demon who would try to kill a young witch to get to more, on orders of the Source himself. It was Laurel's destiny to save this girl, and she had to do it alone. Or, she had wanted to. She had not told Patty Halliwell about it, because she knew that her friend would insist on coming. Though she didn't know exactly when demon was due, or who it was, she had confidence that she could vanquish it. She was powerful enough to vanquish a single demon on her own. Greg, however, had insisted that he come with her, and Laurel finally relented, knowing that she could help him escape if he needed help.

A woman of around 20 strode across Laurel's vision, breaking her daydreams. She was holding the hands of her husband and small boy, who Laurel could only presume was her son. The woman was the witch from her premonition. Laurel could sense the aura about her and recognized the straight, blond hair that framed the younger woman's face. Well, she might as well not waste time. Laurel stepped forward immediately, pulling Greg with her and hailed the woman with a raised hand. “Excuse me! Ashley, isn't it?”

The woman turned sharply at the sound of the voice, seeing Laurel for the first time. She eyed her suspiciously, then answered hesitantly. “Yes? Can I help you with something?” Instinctively, delicately, she pushed her son towards her husband, who bend to pick him up protectively.

Gripping Greg's hand, Laurel moved forward. “You're in danger here, Ashley. You and your family both. You must leave now,” she told the other woman warningly.

Ashley's fine brows knitted together. “What are you saying? I don't even know you.” She began to walk away, but Laurel reached out and grabbed Ashely's arm, forcibly stopping her. “I beg your pardon,” Ashley snapped, but Laurel pulled her close to herself before Ashley's husband could wrenched them apart. She hadn't wanted to say this, but now she had to. The woman had to trust her.

“Please,” Laurel said, looking straight into the other woman's eyes. “I know you're a witch. I'm Laurel Miller. I know.”

The young woman's eyes widened and she stumbled backwards, wrenching her arm out of Laurel's grasp, her face whitening. “You? You're Laurel Miller?” After Laurel nodded, Ashley's eyes stared at her for only another minute before they cleared of doubt. Straightening, though still shaking from shock, she said to her son, “Come on, Ben. We'll go to the creek another day. Mommy's not feeling well.” Ignoring her son's protest yells, Ashley briefly met Laurel's eyes and nodded slightly, thanking her. Laurel flashed a fleeting smile and watched them part hurriedly.

When the small family was out of sight, Laurel felt an evil shimmer in the air. Letting go of Greg's hand, she stepped forward slowly, slyly trying to be silent in order to spot the demon before he spotted her, but she had barely walked two steps before a scream cut the air. She spun around just in time to see her husband blasted off his feet and slammed into the boulder behind them. A loud crack rent the air and the man slid down the stone and sprawled on the ground, motionless, his neck at an odd angle to his body.

“Greg!” Laurel screamed, but as she tried to run forward, a clawed hand gripped her arm and swung her around, and she found herself face to face with Shax. Its ugly face was twisted with hatred and anger, eyes narrowed and sparking with evil and loathing. As it held her, it spoke, the first time it had spoken more than it's usual two words.

“You...witch! Made them escape!” Its putrid breath blasted into the struggling Laurel's face before he threw her away form him. Laurel's arms and legs flailed in the air and she landed on the hard ground, all the breath in her lungs whooshing out of her. As she lay coughing on the ground, clutching her chest, a twig snapped, causing her to look up abruptly. Shax had approached her and now held an energy ball in his palm as he glowered at her. “You...are doomed, witch!” Shax snarled, and hurled the ball at her.

She cried out and flung up her hands, causing the ball to freeze in midair. With no time to redirect the frozen ball of death and breathing heavily, Laurel scrambled to her feet and dove out of the way of another energy ball, which took a large chunk out of a nearby tree. Laurel straightened up at once, and, trying not to look at her husband lying on the ground, and turned to Shax pleadingly. “Why are you still here? You can't have me!”

The demon did not seem to listen nor did he reply, but continued to advance on the lone witch, making her back up. She dodged another energy ball, using her levitation to lift herself over the demon, executing a front flip as she did, but when she landed, Shax had already spun around and had anticipated her powers. In one fluid movement, he had her by the throat. Gasping abruptly, Laurel fought savagely to dislodge herself as she felt his hand squeeze her airway, not giving her any room to plead, as most demons would have done tauntingly, let alone to let her breathe. She tried to speak, and her fingernails were scratching at his gray skin as she fought to dislodge his sharp claws that dug into her neck, piercing the skin, but Shax held her even tighter, lifting her from the ground, his lips parted in an evil grimace. Both of the witch's hands were now frantically grabbing at his powerful forearms and her feet were trying to kick out at him, but slowly, surely, the strength was quickly ebbing from her grip. Still, her eyes remained fixed on Shax and her mouth moved as she tried to gulp in air that she couldn't find. Feeling the claws slicing into her throat, she coughed very slightly, extricating some of the precious air that remained in her lungs, but Shax did not let go.

Squeezing tighter still, Shax bared his teeth in a grin and leaned his head in so that their faces were millimeters apart, and whispered, “This is the end, witch,” and watched with glee as the witch's movements slowed.

As she stared into his gray eyes, Laurel felt her lungs depleting and heard a buzzing in her head, feeling dizzy, then seeing black at the corners of her eyelids. Desperately, she scratched, tore, pulled at the demon's hands, but her strength was nearly gone and her eyes were clouding over. Shax watched as witch's eyes emptied slowly of life and misted over. Her hands made one last, frantic spasm for his arms, then, slowly, they fell still, slipped from his wrists and dropped to her sides, limply. Her eyes were still staring at Shax, but she was heavy in his hand, her mouth slack and open from her last attempt to breath in air.

Just as she ceased to move again, a flurry of blue and white orbs spun into the glade, just opposite from the demon, and Patty and her mother, Penelope, appeared, both slightly winded. At first, Patty didn't see Shax, but the sound of a harsh laugh alerted her and she spun to see Shax turning to face her, Laurel dangling limply from his huge hand that was still enclosed around her throat.

“NO!” Patty's scream ripped through the air and as she started towards Shax, but Penelope's hand had latched onto her arm and yanked her back. She gripped her daughter's trembling arm hard, straining to keep hold of her as Patty fought to get free. Penelope's voice cracked with unrestrained emotion as she, too watched the demon with horror, but her tone was nevertheless strong and forceful. “Patty, we must say the spell! We must vanquish him! Our lives! Our own lives are in danger now!”

“I don't care!” Patty cried, fighting to break free of her mother's grip as Shax laughed at her. His eye caught Patty's and he grinned again, and threw Laurel away from him effortlessly, like he was discarding a bit of rubbish. She fell heavily to the ground, close to her dead husband and did not rise.

“We must!” Penelope shouted into Patty's ear to make her listen to sense.

Tears of anguish sliding down her dace, Patty hastily read the spell that Penny held at the same time as her mother read it.

“Evil wind that blows

That which forms below

No longer may you dwell

Death takes you with this spell!”

Once again, the gray-and-white-clothed demon twisted on the spot in extreme pain, roaring with fury and agony, then an enormous upheaval of wind wrapped itself around the demon and the women. In an explosion of leaves and dirt clumps, Shax was gone, his final scream echoing through the trees.

With a sob, Patty wrenched her hand away from her mothers and ran to her fallen sister witch before Penelope could say anything. As soon as she drew close, she knew it was too late. Laurel's beautiful brown hair was strewn around her, matted with grime and leaves. She was spread-eagled on her back on the damp ground, her eyes wide and staring past the treetops above her, her face as white as paper and her neck purple with bruises and bleeding freely from where Shax's claws had ripped into her throat. Her mouth was open but there was no rise or fall of her chest, no air moving between the slightly-parted lips.

Her long fingers shaking, Patty fell to her knees beside Laurel. She stared at her friend's eyes, those terror-filled pupils for several seconds, then Patty's eyes dropped and closed, tears leaking from between her eyelids. With a choking sob, Patty's hand fumbled for Laurel's. They were cold. “No,” she choked, pushing the long brown hair from Laurel's frozen face. “No, please, don't leave me!” She sobbed into her friend's hair as she pulled Laurel up into her lap. “Please. No! Sam!” She shouted the name of her whitelighter into the deadly silence, then again. “Sam! Please!” But no lights came, no friendly, dark face of Patty's whitelighter brightened hope. Sam did not come.

“No, Laurel, please,” Patty repeated, hauling Laurel's still body up farther onto her knees. She gathered her friend in her arms and rocked back in forth, crushed with grief. “Sam,” she whispered again, but her yells were futile now, her cheek against Laurel's limp head.

“He can't come,” Penelope's voice said. She was kneeling on the ground with a finger against Greg's neck, checking for a pulse that she couldn't feel.

“What?” Patty sniffed, tears continuing to flow, raising her head. “Why? Why can't he come? He-he has to save her. He...save...” and she dissolved into tears again before she could finish, her body now shaking uncontrollably.

Closing her eyes to the sight of Greg's hideously broken neck after shutting his wide eyes, Penny repeated. “He can't come. He's not allowed.”

At this, Patty's head turned upward. Her expression startled Penny as she looked over at her daughter. It was a mix of the greatest grief, and the greatest anger, her eyes were burning with the light of hatred. Penny had seen that look only once before, and that was in the future, during events that would happen during her granddaughters lifetimes. No one knew if they would occur, but nevertheless, she was positively frightened by the light in Patty's eyes. “He's not allowed?” Patty repeated. “By who? The Elders?” She sniffed again, this time scrubbing a hand across her eyes roughly with one hand, her other holding Laurel still. “What right do they have to take her away from me? What gives them the authority?”

Penny's hand was trembling as she crossed to her daughter, but when she spoke, her voice was steady and strong. “They...there's a reason for everything, and there is a reason for this. You can't know until much later, but she died for a cause, Patty.” She knelt next to her daughter and reached out a slightly trembling hand, closing Laurel's eyes gently before Patty could protest.

“Who cares what the damn Elders say!” Patty shouted at her mother, but mostly to the heavens. “She is the only one...she was my best...she...I...” Her grief overpowered her once more and she collapsed further, cradling Laurel's body, hugging it tightly, her sobs wrenching her throat.

The present-day Miller and Halliwells stared at the events that unfolded through tear-stung eyes. Kate and Heather were in each other's arms, clutching hands. Sam was clutching her stomach and she was on her knees like she was going to be sick. Lucy cried silently into Samantha's shoulder as Sam's arms held her close to her own shaking and numb body. Silent tears slid down Prue and Piper's cheeks while Paige hugged Phoebe tightly, stroking her hair, trying to be soothing. Slowly, the scene of Patty's mourning was clouded by a light silver mist, and within moments it was completely shrouded by magical fog and hidden from sight, though it would forever plant itself into each of the women's minds.

The ghost of Patty Halliwell watched the witches in silence, giving them time to cope with what they had seen. Her own hand was over her heart and a painful expression lined her beautiful face, which was damp with tears. She had forgotten how painful Laurel and Greg's deaths had been to her, Laurel's in particular. Following, Patty could not bring herself to trust the Elder's judgment again, but nevertheless continued to do as they requested, even though she did it stubbornly. Patty understood that having the girls, all of them, watching Greg and Laurel Miller's deaths could be dangerous to their powers, since they were tied to emotions, but as she watched them now, Patty felt that they were strong enough to keep going and use the experience for the better. They would not let it destroy them. However, only time would tell.

It was a few moments before Patty realized that Prue's eyes were on her. She turned and returned her daughter's stare, but did not speak. “Why didn't you tell us?” Prue whispered, holding Piper in her arms. “Why didn't you tell us any of this? That we were connected, that we had this Prophecy to fulfill?”

Patty went over to Prue and reached out to put a hand to her cheek. “Prue, honey, you were never supposed to find out. It...wasn't allowed, especially not for you. I tell you know because you must know it in order to defeat Zoltof.”

At the mention of the demon's name, Heather, Kate and Sam looked up abruptly and Lucy's hand went to Sam's, who clasped it tightly. The three eldest Miller's were staring at Patty and their lips were all in a straight, painful line. It seemed that there was some sort of energy joining the eight young witches together now that they knew the truth. But, though it was slightly awkward, each felt like the other's sister, like one family. Now they understood why Piper had felt the dagger that had almost killed her and Heather, but it still did not make much sense.

“This is it,” Phoebe said, breaking the silence suddenly, causing the others to look at her.

“What?” Sam whispered.

“This is it,” Phoebe repeated, straightening abruptly and wiping the tears from her eyes. “This is the way to defeat Zoltof. 'A new power from light emerges. Only present and future can combine.' The eight of us, four Millers, four Halliwells,” she explained, gesturing as she spoke, her voice increasing with speed as she understood. “You weren't supposed to meet Paige yet,” she told the her own sisters. “None of us were. She's the future.” She looked over at her mother then. “You and Grams can't help us defeat him because you are the past,” she told Patty. “Between the eight of us,” she said, guesturing at the living eight women. “We can beat him.”

Her sisters and friends pondered what she had said. It was true. The eight living women had to combine together in order to win. They had to do it together. Zoltof was much too powerful for one of them to defeat. “Why are we still here then?” Heather said, roughly, speaking for the first time. Her eyes were hard and her mouth was a straight line, her look was hardening even more after the truth was revealed about her mother and father. “We can't...let Mom and Dad die in vain,” she breathed out, with some difficulty. “We have to rid the world of this evil once and for all.”
“I couldn't agree more,” Prue said, nodding. “But we don't know how to do it. We have no spell, no potions.”

Sam spoke up then. “In our Book of Shadows, we have a spell to combine powers. We can use that along with a vanquishing spell to make a more powerful incantation...”

“...or we can combine the vanquishing spell for the Source with our Power of Three and your Power of Four spells,” Prue said, continuing for Sam.

“We have to go then,” Lucy said, softly, though showing slight hesitation at speaking. “We have to go...back...back home.”

None of the Millers looked at the Halliwells. Instead, they examined one another worriedly. Going back to the manor would bring back horrible memories now that they had seen their mother in the past, and since they had been attacked and almost killed there themselves, and it would be dangerous, but they had to do it.

“Well, we have to go back to our manor eventually,” Piper reminded them, looking sideways at her sisters. “I think that's where we'll be the most powerful, since...” But she didn't have a reason. The others agreed with her, though and did not question what she said.

“OK,” Prue said decisively. “To the Miller's home first, write a spell, get ready, then back to our manor, where we can summon Zoltof and kill him.” The others nodded.
Heather motioned to her sisters. As the other three clasped hands, she looked at the other family. “We'll see you there,” she told them, locking eyes with Piper briefly before turning to her sisters. “Girls, let's go home.” The Halliwell's joined hands with each other as well and they all looked expectantly at Patty. With a wave of her hand, Patty sent the girls away, the white lights fading as quickly as they had come.

As she watched the girls disappear, a light, beautiful, angelic voice above her head called her name. “Patty. Your time is through. You've done your job. It's time to let them do theirs. A destiny awaits them that we cannot change.”

Patty's lips creased in a smile and she shook her head, trying to release the questions buzzing in her mind. “They will be strong, Laurel. They can do it,” she added, though she seemed to be convincing herself.

“It's time to come home,” the sweet voice of Laurel Miller said again, gently persistent, and Patty could almost feel her friend's arms reaching out for her, waiting for her to come back to her.

Patty began to fade as lights swirled around her. Staring at the place where her daughters had just vanished, a single tear dripped down her cheek as she stretched out her arm and whispered, “Blessed be, my children,” and then she vanished, leaving a magical aura still hanging in the air.


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[jenna]

Are you gonna post more soon? This is one of the first things I check when I get on. I may not post a comment every chapter, but I'm hooked. Patiently(?) waiting for more.

[phoebe11]

Yes Jenna is like me i'm hooked and i'm yearning for more!

[EvergreenMountaineer]

I'm sorry guys! I've been pretty busy lately and I've not been able to update! But I'll update again tomrorow or if I see you guys post. But don't feel like you have to comment. I'm glad that you guys are enjoing it! Just a warning, it is going to get sad!

-29-
Final Preparations

As soon as they had arrived in the main hall of the Miller's mansion, the Halliwells released each other's hands and looked around, awkwardly. They had only heard stories and legends about the house that the Magicked Ones lived in, and even though they knew it was similar to theirs, they were not prepared for the actual sight. Picturing a beautiful, homey living space, the Halliwells had forgotten that the other witch family had gotten attacked at this house and were promptly kidnapped, leaving them no time to clean up.

The room that they arrived in was a mess, burned and singed from demons that had presided there briefly, and from the aftermath of the attack by Lynxe and her followers. Chairs were up-turned and charred, and broken glass littered the ground around empty window frames. Pieces of cotton and fabric were strewn across the carpet, blasted from within the furniture. Earth scattered the floor, adding to the crunch underfoot, a result of pots of flowers and plants being smashed to the floor. The beautiful interior design that the Halliwells had expected had been ruined by Evil, and they couldn't help looking around with dropped jaws.

“Hey guys! In here.”

The Halliwells turned to see Heather beckoning them through a doorway. Crossing the room slowly, still glancing around, they did as they were told, not speaking to each other, nor keeping eye contact. As the Charmed Ones stepped into the Miller's kitchen, they saw Sam and Kate already cleaning, picking up bits of fallen jars from the floor, while Lucy was taking out a large cauldron from a cabinet whose door was swinging, broken, on its hinges. “This is where we'll make the potion,” Heather told them all as the other family joined them. Turning to the Halliwells, she added, in an apologetic voice, “Sorry about the mess. It's never like this. Kate has it spic and span all the time.”

“Don't worry about it,” Piper told her, quickly, averting her eyes.

“Anyway, we should all split up jobs, I think,” Heather continued, quickly, to stem the embarrassment. “Piper, Paige and Sam, you three can make the potion as soon as we can find one powerful enough. Kate, Prue, and I will check the Book of Shadows. It's still up there. Evil can't touch it,” she added, answering Paige's confused look. “We'll have Phoebe and Lucy draw up a spell again since they seemed to work well together and they both do that for their powers anyway.” She stopped then and looked around.

Lucy stood in the corner of the kitchen leaning snugly against Kate, whose arm was around her youngest sister. Kate's eyes were on the floor, as if they were searching for a dropped possession and her mouth was close, as it normally was. Sam had a hand resting on the counter as she was listening to Heather. Prue and Piper were standing together, listening intently to her instructions, but Phoebe, who stood opposite Heather, and Paige, who stood alone, looked slightly uncomfortable, awkward at being inside the house of the Magicked Ones. Heather saw their hesitation and smiled. “It's all right, you guys. We can help you find what you need. We're here to help each other, after all.” She looked up and met Kate's eyes at last, and saw worry swimming in them. Quickly looking away, Heather tried hard to swallow her own doubts and said, “OK, let's go to work. The sooner we vanquish the demon, the sooner we can get back to our lives.”

Slowly, the women went their separate ways. Before she went upstairs, Kate stayed behind, watching Lucy go into the other room with Phoebe. As soon as the youngest Miller was around the corner and out of earshot, Kate looked over at Heather. “What are we going to do?” She asked suddenly, struggling with an emotion that threatened to overpower her. She was shaking, and her hands were clenched on the edge of the counter to steady herself.

Heather was slightly startled. “What do you mean?” She asked, taking a small step forward, but Kate stepped back.

Kate's eyes continued to fill with tears. “I mean, look at us,” she continued, spreading her arms slightly. “We barely escaped that demon alive. We almost lost you, and we almost lost Lucy. We just found out that you are related to Piper Halliwell, literally, and that our mother and father were murdered by a demon who was supposed to kill someone else, like us. Now our house is destroyed and my sisters are in a danger that I can't fight.” She buried her face in her hands and began to cry.

A bit thrown off by her normally strong sister breaking down like this, Heather only hesitated a fraction of a second before crossing to her and pulling her into an embrace filled with all the love in her heart. “I would never, ever let anything happen to you, Katie. Never. I'll keep you safe. I love you so, so much,” she whispered, her mouth close to Kate's ear. Then, she kissed Kate's forehead passionately, and again, and held her as tightly as she could, feeling each of Kate's sobs against her body.

“Oh! Sorry! S-sorry!”

Heather looked over Kate's head to see Prue stop abruptly in the doorway, her eyes widening at the sight of the two sisters hugging.

“Sorry!” Prue repeated, awkwardly trying to turn around. “I'll-I'll just leave you two alone,” she murdered, starting to leave the room, but Heather, pulling out of the embrace but leaving an arm around Kate, said, “No, please, Prue. Stay.”

The older woman obeyed, still looking flustered. “Well, I, uh, was waiting for you two . We're going to look in your Book...” she began.

“Yes, we were just coming,” Heather assured her, trying to smile.

Prue, returning the smile, came into the room all the way then and said, slowly, “Look. We'll do all we can to help. He's our enemy too. Anything you need from us and we'll do it. We...we're bonded, after all. We'll help.”

Heather and Kate crossed the kitchen slowly. Putting a hand on Prue's shoulder, Heather said, “We know you will. Thank you,” and pulled Prue into a hug. The Halliwell was taken aback, but returned it. After some long seconds, the women pulled away from each other.

Shuffling uncomfortably, Kate spoke quickly. “Upstairs?”

Her sister nodded and Prue said, “Yeah,” and the two Millers lead the way up to the attic, where the Book of Shadows lay ready to be examined and consulted.

Two hours later, Lucy sat up straight, arching her back painfully and massaging her stiff muscles, but she was waving a yellowed piece of paper in her hand victoriously. “We got it,” she yawned. “It took us a while, but we've finally made a spell that should work.”

Prue stood up and stretched too. “How can you be sure that it'll be strong enough?”

“Well, we've combined each family's strongest spell: the spell to vanquish the Source, as well as combined the Power of Three and Power of Four spells. It's strong enough,” Phoebe said, finishing reassuringly and confidentially.

“And will holding crystals work?” Heather asked, looking up from the Book of Shadows.

“No evil can escape them,” Piper responded. “I don't think Zoltof will, as powerful as he is. But we might only have seconds before he breaks through. that's barely enough time. We have to move quickly once we've found him.”

“Well, we have our strongest set of potions, plus one that was just entered in the Book,” Sam added in, looking at Prue with raised eyebrows.

Prue returned the look and smiled. “You probably get help from your ancestors as well.” She turned to the page Sam had been looking at and said, “In this case, a 'R. Alena'.” She looked at the Millers again. “Who is R. Alena?”

“Rachel Alena,” said Kate's quiet voice after a moment. The others looked at her. She had barely spoken in front of the Halliwells at all and they were a bit astonished, but they didn't show it. The Miller's however, were used to Kate's silence, but valued her input when she gave it and listened carefully. Kate continued. “She's one of our ancestors. Quite a famous witch, actually.”

Heather studied the entry in the Book as well. “That explains why the writing is difficult to read,” she commented, running a hand over the yellowed page. “It was written by someone who lived a couple hundred years ago.”

Silence floated around the room as they all thought of this until Paige said, shifting in her chair, “So, getting back to Zoltof. Do we have a plan?”

Phoebe finished copying the last word on her spell then put down her pencil, before looking up at her sister. “Well, you and Lucy will have to place the crystals around Zoltof, and-”

A gasp from Heather made them all look around at her, Phoebe stopping abruptly in mid-sentence. The eldest Miller had suddenly gone pale. “You want...Lucy to do that? It's too dangerous! He's too powerful!” she was breathing heavily and clutching a chair in shock as she stared incredulously at Phoebe.

“Heather,” Lucy said, almost whining. “I can handle it. I'm older than I used to be. I can do this now.”

The older girl shook her head. “No. It's too dangerous. I won't let you,” Heather said sharply, shaking her head. A hand rested lightly on Heather's shoulder then, and she turned her head to see Piper at her side. A strange feeling overtook her, then a soft jolt of electric energy passed through the two. But though they both looked into each other's eyes, slightly frightened, no one else seemed to notice.

“You have to let her go,” Piper said, softly, seemingly ignoring the jolt she had just felt in her heart. “She'll be orbing so she'll be too quick for Zoltof. You can't protect her forever.”

At these words, Heather angrily shrugged off Piper's hand. “It's my job,” she said, backing a few paces away from Piper and folding her arms. “I have to protect them.”

“No, Heather, you don't,” Lucy snapped to her sister, causing Kate and Sam to gape. They had never seen Lucy snap at Heather. Of course, being sisters, they had their rifts, but Lucy had never snapped, and they had never seen them fight as passionately as this. Heather, too, seemed to be taken aback. She opened her mouth quickly, as if to say something back, but closed it again, her face pale. “I'm not a child anymore!” Lucy continued, desperately. “I'm an adult! I can take care of myself.”

“You're barely an adult, Lucy!” Heather replied, her voice rising, sharply without her meaning to. “You're barely 22 years old, and-”

“What does age have to do with it?” Lucy retorted, closing the Book of Shadows with a loud snap and cutting Heather off. “I'm a witch,” she spluttered. “I have powers that I can protect myself with. What do you want from me?”

“I can't lose you again!” Heather cried, slamming her fist down on the table next to her angrily, leaving an abrupt silence in the room. Lucy stared at her sister, her mouth half-open and quivering, shocked into silence. After a few seconds, Heather's fist relaxed and she exhaled, releasing a fresh set of tears. “I can't lose you again,” she repeated in a quiet sob, and she put her hands to her face.

The Halliwells looked around, shocked and embarrassed, and Prue was wondering if they should leave to give the Millers privacy, but the sound of Heather's voice continuing to talk changed her mind.

“I thought those demons had...had killed you,” Heather choked, not looking up at Lucy but staring instead at the table. “I thought they were screwing with our minds, trying to break us, asking us where you were simply to torture us before they killed us too. I thought...that they captured you and killed you in order...in order to get to us. I died inside when I woke up in that room with only Kate beside me. And...when...” she shut her eyes tightly against the memory, fighting to speak. “When I saw Kate and Sam tied up, side-by-side later, and didn't see you again, I thought...I knew that they had already...” She broke off and melted into sobs then, her head in her hands, shaking violently as she cried. She had been so sure that Lucy was dead that she had given up her will to live. She fought only to save Kate and Sam. And when she had been stabbed--Heather couldn't even think of what had happened, could barely remember, but what she could definatly terrified her. When she was lying on the floor, she felt her life slipping away, and she saw Lucy. And her will to live was already murdered by the demons who had tortured them, and then Lucy was there, shining in-Heather could not remember clearly-violet light...an angel...Lucy was an angel and greeting her into the next life. Then, Heather dimly saw Lucy next to her, and Sam, and Kate...

A hand touched her shoulder, but she did not look up. Through the corner of her eye, Heather saw Lucy beside her. Slowly, Heather raised her head to look at her youngest sister. Their eyes met. Then, Lucy leaned forward and pulled her sister into a tight hug and held her there. The seconds dragged by as Lucy held Heather, who's tears soaked the younger one's pale violet top as she continued to cry. Lucy rocked Heather back and forth, stroking her hair, then, planting a kiss on the top of Heather's head, she whispered, “I love you so much. I'm so, so sorry. I'm sorry. I love you. I love you, Heather. I'm sorry.”

Heather returned the embrace then, fiercely and passionately. “I'm sorry,” she whispered in turn.

“You're right,” Lucy agreed in a whisper. “I'm too young. I'm too young to do this. I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have said anything. I should be grateful that you've been here forever. I wasn't. I'm so sorry. You won't lose me. You never will.” Lucy let Heather pull out of their hug as she spoke.

“No,” Heather said, scrubbing a hand across her eyes. “No. You...you should do it, but only if you feel safe. I was wrong to hold you back all these years. I don't want you to carry this burden. I don't want you to end up...like Mom and Dad.”

Lucy's eyes blinked out a tear. “I have to do it,” she replied softly. “It's my destiny. My part of the destiny, just as yours is to read that spell with Piper. Just as Kate and Sam's is to cover us. It is my destiny. This is what I'm meant to do and I have to do it. I have to take that risk for all of the world. My life doesn't matter. It's everyone's lives that I'm worried about.”

The eldest Miller nodded, trying to block out the last statements that made her heart burn, and trying to smile reassuringly as she brushed a tear from Lucy's cheek. “I know,” she said, brokenly. “I know.”

Waiting for a few seconds to make sure the sisters were finished, Paige stepped in again, clearing her throat. “Um, excuse me for interrupting, but we should really get going. The entire existence of the universe rests in our hands and I think it's time to kick some demon behind.”

The others tried to laugh in spite of the situation and Prue took control at once. “OK. Gather up these potions, Pheebs. Piper? Make sure Heather has a copy of that spell. We think that since you two are related, you'll be the strongest power to read it. You each have a bit of us in you anyway, in your blood, so we'll all be included in it. All our powers. All our strengths. Kate, grab those crystals to your right. That's it, that bag.”

The eight witches then gathered in the center of the room. Each looked into the others eyes. The day of reckoning was here. The prophesy was about to be fulfilled, or failed. Clasping the other's hands, the Millers and Halliwells each took a breath, trying to prepare themselves, or perhaps to calm themselves. None of them knew what they were to face. None of them knew the danger that they were orbing into. None of them knew if they were all going to survive the day.

At a quick nudge from Prue, Paige took another breath at the same time as Lucy did, and together, they orbed them all back to the Halliwell manor. The day of reckoning had come. It was kill or be killed now...

[EvergreenMountaineer]

-30-
The Final Battle

The demon, Sarax, a huge monster with a bluish tinge to his matty skin, long gray teeth and a large purple horn sprouting from his forehead, was lounging on a white wicker love seat in the Halliwell's spacious conservatory, his feet up and arms behind his head comfortably, eyes closed to the brightness around him. There had been no sign of the witches returning to the manor, and while he could, Sarax was perfectly content to get some rest. Why not? His master would not leave the attic above him, for fear that the witches would arrive there, and the other demons on patrol downstairs were in other rooms, and wouldn't dare abandon their posts, even to reprehend a fellow demon. And even if the witches did come, Sarax was an upper-level demon, who was almost as powerful as the Source of All Evil himself. He could take care of the witches. Sighing deeply, he stretched further out on the love seat.

A bright blue glow suddenly shone through his eyelids and, curiously, he opened his eyes. What he saw shocked him. Eight women were standing calmly before him, two of them armed with small glass vials with red liquid inside, not threatening looking from first glance, but once realized their purpose, terrifying.

“What-” The demon's shock had evaporated almost at once, but as he was rising from the love seat, the witch with long auburn hair threw a vial at him. Before he could make another move and before the words were halfway out of his mouth, the potion hit him hard in the side and all he could do was gasp as he was engulfed in flame, then exploded into oblivion.

Samantha, who had thrown the potion, watched appreciatively as the last specks of dust fluttered to the floor. “Not even a yell,” she nodded. “That's lucky for us,” she added, relief on her face and in her voice.

“Maybe not,” Prue said, releasing Lucy's arm, her eyes on the hallway behind them, where another cloaked demon had stopped in the doorway. He had head Sarax's exclamation and had come to investigate, in case he was needed, and what he saw as he stepped across the foyer made him stop, astounded. The eight women in the room had turned sharply as the demon's eyebrows furrowed and he hastily swept an arm across himself as he tried to remove his cloak.

“What the hell are-”

“Prue, throw it!” Piper said sharply, but Prue was already moving and had thrown the potion at the demon's feet as soon as he had opened his mouth. This time, their luck faded, and a loud yell escaped from the demon's lips as he flailed his arms, beating himself with his hands as he was eaten by the flames that had erupted around him. Almost faster than they could blink, the demon had exploded loudly into a blast of heat and power that almost knocked the women over.

“That wasn't good,” Heather muttered as her ears picked up a frantic pound on the ceiling above her, as if someone had fallen off of a chair in shock, then a crash, as if a wooden piece of furniture had broken.

“They have to be in the attic,” Prue commented, looking around hastily to see if there were any more sentries on guard. Seeing none, she hastily said, “Where else would Zoltof be?” She started for the stairs as she said this, but Lucy grabbed her arm quickly, holding her back.

“Shouldn't we orb?” Lucy asked Prue. “We'll take them by surprise. I mean, at least we'll have a small element of surprise.”

Piper nodded her agreement, grabbing Paige's hand in preparation of orbing. “She's got a point.”

“But wait,” Sam broke in, quickly, her eye troubled and stomach twisting. “Won't they be expecting that? I mean, that's what they're waiting for. They'll be tracking our orbs in order to warn themselves of our presence. They already know we're here after all and they could be setting up a trap.”

Piper released Paige's hand slowly, looking dejected. “She also has a point,” she mumbled, waving a hand towards Sam.

“Anything is better than just running upstairs to be blasted into oblivion as soon as we walk in the door,” Kate spoke softly, her eyes on Prue, who nodded. “I mean, we will have the slight advantage if we orb. They won't know where we'll land, after all.”

“Right. We orb,” Prue decided, beckoning to Heather to take her hand again. “Then, we throw the potions and hold them all off as much as we can until Lucy and Paige get the holding crystals around Zoltof and he's trapped. Heather and I will say the spell then.”

Eight hands locked together again, and everyone nodded automatically. It was there only plan, and the way that Prue spoke, the encouraging, confident way made them all more confident. “OK,” Heather said. “Let's do it. Blessed be.”

“Blessed be.”

Blue orbs sparkled around the eight women once again, and they were all disintegrated into the lights one last time.

Zoltof was making his way around the Halliwell's attic floor for the hundredth time, pacing up and down. He couldn't help it. He and his demons had arrived at the mansion long hours ago, but the witches had not come back. Where could they have gone? They couldn't have stayed in the Underworld. He had already sent an agent to check and word came back assuring him of the fact. The only trace of the witches down there was a pool of blood-soaked sand where the eldest Magicked One had lain dying in her sister's arms. The witches weren't at the Magicked One's home either, because someone had checked three hours ago, and it was unlikely that they had returned after the demon had left. They would have gone already. But where else could they be and what were they planning?

The huge figure bellowed out his anger and grabbed a wooden chair that was seated at a nearby table and lifted it into the air, hurling it towards two demon sentries, who ducked instinctively. As Zoltof yelled, another scream echoed through the air, but he imagined it was just one of his cowarding, ducking demons. One of them fell to the floor with a crash as the other knocked into him, the chair missing his head by inches. The chair smashed against the wall behind them with a loud crash, and chunks of wood scattered the floor beneath where it hit. But as the demons were looking up frantically, checking themselves to see if they were injured, white lights dropped from the ceiling with a bright twinkle.

Zotolf gaped in shock as both the Charmed Ones and the Magicked Ones appeared from the lights, holding each other's hands, and all of them grim-faced and determined. He couldn't believe that the witches were all standing in front of him...nor that all of them were alive. That one, the witch with long brown hair clutching the hand of the young blond...she was dead! Lynxe was supposed to have...no! Lynxe had killed her! She had stabbed that witch through the abdomen, and no help had arrived for them as their sister lay bleeding on the cave floor.

Zoltof's hesitation favored the witches. At once, Prue had shouted, “Go, now!” and she felt Lucy and Paige orb away and back again instantly at a different part of the room, surrounding the stunned Zoltof and stooping quickly to place crystals on the floor. Before Zoltof could react, they had orbed out again, knowing that their speed could save their lives.

That was when all Hell broke loose. Zoltof and his demons finally jerked into action as Paige lay down the second crystal next to the bookshelf. “NO!” He screamed, and pointed a bloody and ugly claw at the Magicked Ones, bellowing, “Get them! Kill them!” But his demons were already moving. All of them saw a chance to make a name for themselves in Zotolf's eyes. Zoltof existed only to destroy these witches and their legacy and if a demon were to kill at least one, the reward would be great. Besides, they wouldn't be outnumbered for long, not with reinforcements everywhere in the manor. No doubt the other demons had heard the commotion.

The first demon to hurry forward burst into flame result of a potion that was thrown by Kate, but the next one was able to throw an energy ball towards the group of witches. Prue was too quick for him and deflected it with her powers, sending it smashing into the wall beside her, blasting a hole in it and showering the women in bits of plaster.

Without thinking, Sam had launched herself at another demon: the quivering Justain, who had nearly killed her once before. Now, Sam was in a passionate fury and more than ready to face the weak demon, exchanging punches and kicks with him at once, trying to get him off his balance.

Piper set to as well, attempting first to freeze the room. When that failed (all the demons merely shook off the power) she resulted to molecular combustion, though she knew the demons would not explode. They were too strong, but she could, at least, distract them. Heather, too, tried to blow them up beside her, but was also throwing potion after potion as fast as she could into the demonic fray. It wasn't until the sisters had thrown six bottles combined that they realized the demons kept coming. As one demon died, two more were shimmering into the room and joining the fight.

Battle had exploded in the attic, picking up intensity with each passing minute. Seeing the desperation of the situation, Heather's mind raced. “Piper!” She screamed over the noise, fighting her way to her Halliwell kin. “We've to do it together! Blow them up at the same time or they'll never die!” The two witches counted out loud together, perfectly in unison as they used their powers. “One! Two! THREE!” The demon blocking their way screamed and burst into millions of pieces before their eyes in a satisfying way. Their spirits leapt as they saw that they could kill demons together and they kept at it relentlessly.

Prue and Kate worked together now, one knocking a demon off its feet with her power, the other throwing a potion, each of them smiling grimly with each scream. The eight witches were slowly defeating their foe, one by one.

With two crystals left in her hand, Lucy had just orbed to a spot close to the Book of Shadows (which lay untouched and unscathed despite the fire blasting around it) when she looked up impulsively and met Zoltof's red eyes. Zoltof had been trying to hurl energy balls at the defiant witches, but everything was moving too fast around him and he even hit his own demons instead of his foe, more of them than not. Those damn witches were everywhere he wasn't! Then, on instinct, he had turned on his heel to see the youngest Magicked One orb beside the podium, clutching a crystal in either hand. She looked up suddenly as she knelt and he executed his move. With a swipe of his hand, Zoltof's powers caught Lucy up in green electricity and sent her telekinetically flying across the room. She screamed as she shot through the air, but her voice was sharply cut off as she smashed into the bookshelf a few feet away and dropped like the stones she had been carrying, which fell from her limp hand. Lucy hit the floor hard and with a crash that alerted Paige, but Lucy stayed down, motionless and unconscious.

Paige saw what had happened, but as the crystals rolled across the floor, she kept her head and dropped her own crystal, the last in her hand, to the ground quickly, continuing the ever-closing circle around Zoltof, then, without thinking, she orbed to Lucy, who's blond hair was slowly becoming crimson with blood appearing from the back of her head somewhere. As soon as Paige could bend down after she materialized, she did, and grabbed the fallen stones, immediately orbing out again and barely missing the same fate as Lucy as Zoltof shot electricity towards her too. She reappeared instantaneously behind Zoltof and put a crystal on the floor, but when he turned, almost falling to the ground as he tripped over his own feet in his haste, she had gone.

But just as Paige set down the final crystal, the door of the attic burst open. Reinforcements for the demons had finally arrived to join the fight. As the door was blasted open, Sam was jerked from her feet by the power that had crashed the door and she hit a couch hard, flipping over it, just like she had done the first time Lynxe had attacked her family. She was knocked senseless instantly as her head cracked against the floor and she landed on the ground and lay still.

Prue had also been thrown across the room as well, to smash into the bookshelf like Lucy, whom the unconscious Prue now fell on top of, along with several heavy books and volumes that dropped from the shelves in the impact. The demons paid no attention to the fallen witches, as they were not a threat any longer. Instead, they joined the fight eagerly, focusing on their targets, hurling a fresh wave of energy balls into the crowded attic and soon overpowering the Magicked and Charmed Ones.

“The crystals are set!” Paige had time to yell into the noise that was building, hoping that any one had heard her. The demons and the witches both panicked as they had, indeed, all heard. Piper fought harder, trying to blow demons apart as Kate tried to thrust them away from her. Phoebe was blocking another demon's punches and kicks with her own, and had just taken a blow from the fist of the demon to her collarbone. She hollered in pain, dropping to her knees, but at he same time, kicking out to trip the demon, who fell with a resounding crash, only to have Phoebe leap on him and, despite her injury, fasten her arms around his throat tightly.

It was then, through all the chaos that was coming from the end of the battle in sight, that Justain saw his chance to redeem himself in Zoltof's eyes. There was a sudden gap in the demons as they wound around the room fighting, and he found himself staring directly into Kate's eyes. He had not been able to kill her the first time they had met, as her sister had taken the energy ball instead. But now, he would not-he could not fail, not when the witch was right there, unprotected, separate from her sisters. There was no one to help her this time.

With a howl of triumph, Justain shimmered out and reappeared at once behind Kate. She saw him vanish and felt, or sensed, his return and had turned halfway around before Justain had caught her up by the throat. She struggled at once, and her fist, that was clutched around her last potion, connected wildly with his neck. He dropped her as the glass shattered, cutting into Kate's hand, but she paid no attention as she fell to the floor, gasping. Justain howled in pain as the potion splattered on his face and chest, but it did not cause him to explode, for it was not powerful enough for him, the right hand demon of the Source! He roared as blisters sprung up on his cheeks and face, but he was infuriated. The witch had slipped from his grasp again! His swollen eyes squinted open slowly and darted around the room, but he saw Kate a split-second later, on the ground at his feet, struggling to catch her breath and climb to her feet.

[EvergreenMountaineer]

The Final Battle...continued...

Before she could even look up, his hatred had overcome him and he had swiped down and struck her jaw with his fist, combining his telekinetic powers with the punch as he stooped. Her head jerked back at the impact and she was blasted off the floor and was thrown through the air from the power.

Time seemed to stand still. Heather, who had heard Justain roar and turned to find out the reason, saw what happened next as if a path had been forged through the mele that had been made just to force her to witness what happened.

Her arms and legs flailing in the air, Kate was thrown backwards towards the wall opposite from where Prue and Lucy lay. Fragments of the chair Zoltof had destroyed were jumbled together on the floor, the sizes of pieces ranging from splinters to blocks of the unnaturally sharp wood. Later, Heather would think that she was right beside her sister as Kate had hit the peak of flight and began her downward progress. Heather's mouth dropped open in a silent scream and her eyes were wide as she watched.

Kate's form plunged downward and continued to plummet, her arms flailing hopelessly, and then, with a sickening sound, she landed squarely on a large fragment of splintered wood that was braced upright by other remains. Its thick and deadly shaft shot through her back instantly, and shattered her spinal cord as it plunged through her body, finally spurted through her abdomen, pushing blood in front of it so it showered into the air like crimson rain. Kate's sharp exclamation of pain was abruptly cut off as she finally stopped moving, and lay impaled on the floor, her eyes squeezing shut, then opening again.

“NO!” Heather's lungs felt like they were tearing as she screamed with all the air in her. She tried to sprint forward, but a blast of power from an unknown source hit her and she was slammed into the wall behind her instead. Her head buzzing, Heather slid to the floor, then felt Piper scramble over to her side hastily and seize one of her arms, hauling her upright. Heather staggered weakly against the Halliwell, blood trickling down her forehead, but Piper gritted her teeth and supported her as best she could.

“Heather!” Piper shouted, her eyes never leaving Zoltof's face. “We have to read the spell! We have to do it now!” Piper shouted into Heather's ear. Seeing Heather's eyes grow dull and feeling her sister witches' legs give slightly against her, Piper hoisted Heather up farther, then slapped the woman on the face to bring her to her senses. Seeing Heather blink a few times at the slap, Piper hastily unfolded the paper on which the spell was written. Piper clung onto Heather's arm as she brandished the spell in front of Heather's eyes and they read it together.

“Prudence, Laurel, Patricia, Amanda.”

At Heather's gasping, painful, but clear words, Zoltof's feet burst aflame and he screamed, trying to stumble around to escape the fire, but the crystal cage erupted in power as he reached its boarders and he was flung backwards into the center painfully. The cage held.

“Penelope, Carla, Melinda, Rachel.”

The flames rose to Zoltof's middle as Piper read her bit of the spell clearly, not daring to look up, and holding Heather tighter to herself.

“Matriarchs of Our Families,”

As the witches' voices mingled with each other as they both read out loud, Zoltof's torso caught fire and burned steadily. The demon's screams and pleas for freedom and life were drowned out by the two witches, who shouted the last line of the spell, desperate, connected, clear.

“Vanquish this Evil

From Time and Space!”

A fresh wave of flame licked Zoltof's clothes before suddenly engulfing his entire body in heat and pain. As he screamed his agony to the witches, he was silenced by a rocking explosion of power that ripped him apart from the inside out. The blast slid delicately over the Halliwells and Millers, but no demon escaped it alive. As it tore the demon followers apart, Piper clutched Heather to her, the screams and cries echoing around her, until a second blast, more powerful than the first, ripped through the attic, knocking the women to their feet, blowing out the stained glass windows, shattering tables and mirrors. But When it died, every demonic creature died with it.

Piper blinked through the ringing silence and lifted her head to look around. Zoltof was no more than a tiny pile of blackened ash in the center of the room, which caught the wind and lifted into oblivion. His demons were gone forever, no trace of them anywhere. Piper turned on her legs to embrace Heather, but the woman was pulling herself from Piper's grasp and struggling to stand.

With a wrenching sob, Heather tore away from Piper and stumbled across the room, struggling over blocks and fragments of wood and glass to fall where Kate was lying impaled by the chunk of wood from the shattered chair. Dropping to her knees beside her sister, Heather nearly vomited at what she saw as her eyes cleared.

Her sister's normally tan, beautiful, unblemished face was dead white, her lips tinging blue, and her eyes...her once proud, thoughtful and loving eyes were oddly bright, but at the same time, all the knowledge and love that normally swam in them was dim as she was staring at the ceiling in shock. Her graceful hands were clenched up roughly by her shoulders as if she didn't dare put them down for fear of more pain. Her breath was coming in ragged gasps, causing blood to pulse from the cracks where belly met wood. The stake, which was one of the sharpest blocks of the destroyed chair, protruded six inches from the girl's body and it was drenched in Kate's blood.

At Kate's side, Heather was paralyzed with the gruesomeness of the wound and shock of the events. She didn't know what to do. She didn't know where to put her trembling hands. She didn't know where to look, what to say, how to move. Finally, desperately, she slid her arms under Kate's torso and slid herself under it so that she supported Kate with her own body. Kate coughed roughly as she was moved and jolted, her eyes widening slightly in pain, gasping out air as quickly as she drew it in.

“Oh, my God,” Heather whispered, feeling the dampness of Kate's hair, which had been soaking in her own blood. Indeed, most of Kate's back and torso were drenched in the crimson blood, tons of it. “Kate...K-” Heather couldn't speak. She felt her sister's blood soaking through her jeans as she held Kate and swallowed hard at the thought, swallowing vomit and fighting to keep her head, feeling each of Kate's jerky movements when she fought for air, each spontaneous muscle spasm.

“H-Heath-” The name faded off Kate's lips as she fought hard to stay awake through the sudden blackness of her vision, trying to focus on the sister that she loved so much. Kate knew that she was fading fast and that nothing could be done to help her. She dimly felt her sister's touch, felt the sharpness and dullness of the wood that was driven through her own stomach, felt each drawing breath as painful as it could be. People talk about feeling no pain at the brink of death, but here Kate learned the truth. The pain was magnified and sharp, piercing her very heart. She could barely speak, for she was ever fighting for air to fill her depleting lungs.

Heather's dark brown hair spilled over her shoulders as she shook her head. “No,” she said, putting her forehead to Kate's. It was cold. “No, I can't...can't let this happen.” She reached for the wood, numbly thinking on removing it, but suddenly, Kate's hand was at her own, staying Heather's hand.

“Don't-” Kate gasped, squeezing her eyes shut as she gulped hard. Trying to shake her head, and still clasping Heather's hand so she couldn't reach for the stake, she repeated, “Don't...H-Heather...It's...t-too late...” She grunted in pain, her torso twitching as her body began to shake involuntarily, allowing blood to steam out of her wound again, squeezing past the wood and over the already-soaking fabric of her shirt and onto the floor. Her hand closed weakly around Heather's and tried to squeeze it reassuringly, but nothing happened, nothing responded. “Heath-th...” she choked again, her words almost too quietly for Heather to hear. Heather leaned forward, closer, tears streaming down her cheeks, trying to hear what her sister was saying. “I c-can't...f-feel...legs...”

Moaning in grief and disbelief, Heather's numb brain desperately alerted her to her whitelighter's help and told her to shout into the air, “Jay,” scream for her whitewater, for anyone, for any help. When no orbs appeared instantly beside her, she helplessly looked down again at her sister, fighting to control the quaver in her voice, but it cracked audibly when she yelled frantically out again, lifting her head to the heavens. “Jay!”

“You have to let me go!” Jay Edwards was being forcibly restrained by three white-robed Elders as he fought to dislodge them with his body. He heard Heather's scream and had seen what had happened. He was desperate to get down there, to heal his wife, to help. The Elders had to restrain him at the moment the wood entered Kate's body, as he saw all, and as he had tried to orb to her at once, but now he was fighting them harder than ever, scratching, tearing, biting, tears dripping to his cheeks. “That's my wife! Kate! No! Heather! I hear you! Kate!”

“You are not allowed-” began an Elder, but Jay sprang at him, angry glittering welling in his blue eyes, a look of pure fury and helplessness on his face. “NO! She is a Magicked One! My wife! Their sister! She can't...you can't leave her to-”

A solid blow from an Elder's fist struck Jay squarely between skull and neck and the whitelighter went limp in their grasp at once, his words fading off his lips in a soft groan. “I'm sorry, Jay,” the Elder who had struck him whispered into his ear, as his fellows helped him lay Jay down on the cloudy ground. “This is for the Greater Good.”

“He...c-can't come,” Kate gasped as her stomach jerked again, trying vainly and involuntarily to dislodge the deadly stake from her belly.

Heather's eyes were blurred with tears as they swept the room, even more desperately and they fell on Prue and Lucy slmost immediately. It took a few seconds, then Heather realized Lucy's new powers. “Lucy,” she whispered, but hearing her own voice yelling, horse and gritty. “Lucy! Get up!” She shifted her grip on Kate in her arms and whispered again, “Kate...she needs...she has to...” But her youngest made no move from beneath Prue. She was motionless, unconscious, her blond hair streaked with red and her legs twisted under her, her arm crushed by Prue and heavy books. “LUCY!” Heather finally was able to scream, her heart wrenching, but a sharp gasp from Kate caused her to return her gaze to the sister in her lap. As blood soaked her hands and arms even more copiously, Heather felt Kate's life ebbing fast, slipping to the floor in the waves of crimson liquid. “No,” she moaned again, shaking Kate's upper body slightly, ignoring the wound and Kate's wimpers of pain, trying to jolt Kate awake.

The younger Miller felt the stabbing wood even more now, and worked her muscles hard and fought to smile as she gazed into her older sister's face through dull, wonderful eyes. “You...you're beau-beautiful,” she choked, quietly, gasping again, her body jerking with every harsh intake of air. She didn't know what do say, didn't know what do do. Her mind was slowly closing down. It wasn't numb, it wasn't alive. But slowly and weakly, Kate's hand raised to touch Heather's cheek briefly, beofre falling again to limply clasp Heather's hand at her chest in one of the last controlled movements her consciousness could create. As Heather gripped it tightly, Kate watched her, studied her, taking in every detail about her loved sister before she wouldn't be able to, memorizing every crease, every dimple, every freckle. “I...love-” She began, but broke off painfully, eyes closing, coughing once, twice, a gurgling issuing from her throat. Opening her eyes again, Kate tried to clear her throat, fought to speak as she felt blackness closing in on her vision, her senses, her heart. “It's...no one's...fault,” she whispered, her eyes locked onto Heather's now, not looking away, even as she hissed in pain and arched her back sharply.“I love...y-you all...tell...Sam...L-Lucy...I lo-love th-them.” She gulped once more, swallowing and tasting the sour, metallic blood.

“No,” Heather whispered. “No, you can't leave me,” she told her sister. “Why couldn't it be me?” Heather pleaded, moaning, gasping, crying, holding her beloved sister even closer to her body, now savoring every drop of blood that soaked from Kate's body into her own shirt. Heather held Kate fast, lovingly stroking her hair, whispering without thinking, “Why not me?”

“H-Heath...” Kate was fading for the last time now. Her hand gently squeezed Heather's with the last of her strength as she stared unblinkingly and lovingly into Heather's chocolate brown eyes and whispered, while coughing out a stream of thick, dark blood, “I l-love...you. For...eternity...” Her chest jerked one lsat time and her voice trailed away finally as her eyes clouded over. She was staring straight through Heather now, no longer at her, and a pool of blood could not be swallowed as it bubbled in her throat and mouth and dribbled down the corner of her blue lips and down her chin as she died.

Heather couldn't believe it. She was in shock. It couldn't have happened. This wasn't happening. Her sister was not...a dream...it was all a dream...one terrifying dream where her beloved Kate...her sister, her best friend...

“Why couldn't it have been me!” Heather suddenly screamed to the heavens. “Why her? Why Kate? What didn't you take me? Why?” She screamed hard, ignoring her protesting lungs and throat, staring at the ceiling as if waiting for an answer from above, then she was swallowed by grief. Her chest jerked from sobs that finally released from inside her, and with them flowed everything. All the feelings, emotions, thoughts, desires that had locked themselves away when her parents died now streamed from her in the form of tears and crying at the loss of her sister. Her mind did not register anything: not the pain of her own skull, the blood on her face, the hard, damp floor, her saturated clothing, the warm wetness on her arms, the pain in her heart. Heather's head dropped to Kate' cold forehead again and she clasped her sister's limp hand to her bosom, rocking back and forth on the blood-soaked floor with Kate sprawled limply and still slightly warm in her arms. Finally, after long minutes and with a huge effort, she opened her eyes and looked up with tears swimming in her eyes. With a trembling hand, forcing herself, resigned, Heather gently pressed Kate's eyelids closed over her gray, sightless eyes for the last time.

This was how the Miller sisters regained consciousness. As each opened their eyes painfully and lifted their heads from the blood-soaked ground, they all immediately sensed that something was wrong. Looking around frantically, hoping for the best but resigned somehow, to realize the worst, they would find Heather, the eldest Miller, their eldest sister, the strength and heart of their family, clutching Kate's broken and bloody body to herself. Kate did not flinch, move, breathe. She was gone. How long Heather knelt on the bloody floor, gripping her sister's shoulders with her own arms, her hands clasped around Kate's body, she did not know, but she continued to do so, her head in Kate's chest, rocking back and forth and sobbing her dead sister's name over and over.

[EvergreenMountaineer]

Final chapter, everyone!

-31-
Final Goodbyes

Three weeks later on a cold, rainy, foggy afternoon, a flock of people clothed in black stood around a single hole in the grounds of the local cemetery, close together, sheltering under umbrellas and snuggling under cloaks and jackets. While empty now, the gaping hole was soon going to be occupied by a sleek white casket. Rain dripped off he polished, carved surface as it was lowered slowly into the ground with the help of a half-dozen men.

The three black-swathed and cloaked forms standing closest to the grave huddled closer together underneath a large, black umbrella. Standing in the middle, holding the umbrella up, was a woman with long brown hair and a smooth, tan face now wet with rain and tears. One arm was around a younger woman, whose blond hair was tied back in a French bride laced with black ribbon. Her normally bright blue eyes were dull with hopelessness and grief as her shoulders shook slightly, but she did not make a noise, even when she wept. On the other side, her auburn hair pulled back softly into a half-ponytail held with a brown clip, was the other sister, no longer the third-born, but now the middle child. A single tear slid silently down her cheek as she gripped her sister's arm in her own, watching as person after dark-clothed person drifted forward and dropped flowers into the ominous hole in the earth that was now occupied by their sister.

One by one, the other funeral-goers passed the three sisters, offering a solemn handshake, leaning in to kiss a cheek and brush aside a tear, offering condolences and sympathy. Though the three woman accepted each act and action, they made no further move nor sound.

Minutes crawled by, and still people filed by, but the sisters' eyes remained on the flower-strewn coffin in front of them. Finally, the final man had placed a gentle kiss on the youngest's cheek, and they were gone, drifting back to their own lives, leaving the three women alone with their sister. But none of them made the move forward. They simply stood, silent and withdrawn, ignoring the steady beat of raindrops that pattered their umbrella, immobile with the shock that still plagued them.

Finally, at long last, the eldest stepped forward, removing her arm from the youngest sister's shoulders and pulling her other out of the seconds grasp. Slowly, she lowered the umbrella and closed it, dropping it to the muddy ground, but no one felt the rain. In her hand, she clutched a beautiful, young, red rose, whose leaves shuddered as drops of water hit them. Slowly, as if each step took an effort beyond any she had imagined, she approached the grave and stopped, gazing down at the case of light metal hiding her sister.

Somewhere in there, she lay on gentle cushions, her once warm hands now icy in death and clasped gently on her sternum. The mortal wound on her stomach was sewed together and cleaned, but it had been done too late to save her life. A fresh gown now clothed her, white and angelic around her. And her face. It had been smoothed from a gritting, painful, hard look, and was now calm, her lips slightly smiling, as if she was in peace and happiness. Her eyes were still gently closed. No longer would those eyes flash with a grin, or take in another book's contents, or narrow with concern, or shine with love. No longer would she run with her sisters, or hold them close, cuddling them and comforting them, colling as she smoothed their tousled hair into a braid or a complexly beautiful style. No longer would she be the voice of reason when her family needed it the most. No longer would she go quietly about her chores and job. No longer would she lay in her husband's arms as they all watched TV or a movie together. No longer would she join them in a sister's room to talk. She couldn't. Not anymore.

Struggling to hold back a wail of grief, the eldest sister came back into reality and, after a slightly pause, gently tossed the rose into the grave where it bounced once on it's buoyant leaves, then settled to rest forever. She stared at it for a few seconds, then opened her mouth to speak. No words came out at first. Then, she said, quietly, almost whispering, “I'm sorry. I love you. You know that? I'd give my life to have you back. Please, don't desert us for good. I'm sorry that I put you in danger.” She broke off, a sob finally escaping her lips. She clamped a small black handkerchief to her mouth, holding back further grief, then managed to speak again, her voice cracking and tears filling her vision. “I'm sorry for everything. I love you so much.” Unable to continue, she put a hand to her face, hiding it, and turned back, slowly walking toward her sister and fell into the youngest's arms as the third-born approached the grave.

In her trembling fingers, she, too, held a crimson rose that was just beginning to bloom. She did not want to think about her sister. If she did, she would be consumed in grief and anguish and she had to remain strong for her other sisters. So,m as she looked upon the casket, she closed her eyes, but only to see light, knowledge-filled eyes staring back at her, sightless and lost. She shook her head slightly and wrenched her eyes open. “I...” She took a breath to steady her pounding, painful heart. “I'm sorry I didn't-didn't protect you as I should have. I've done if before and I should have done it again. I was stupid to have my back to the door, or not to notice those reinforcements...” she gasped again against the tears wrenchingly. When she was calmer, she whispered. “I miss you so much.” And without another word, tossed her flower into the hole and returned to her sisters, not looking back. Folding herself into the eldest's embrace, she buried her head in her sister's shoulder and didn't see the youngest approach the coffin.

This one held a third rose in her long fingers and she fumbled with it as she stared don at the the other roses that lay across each other on top of the casket. Taking a breath, she remembered here sister's warm smile, her deep, intelligent gaze, her soft and gentle touch and her hard, firm ,loving embrace. She remembered days of intense heat when she and her sister were out on the fields, kicking a soccer ball back and forth. She might not have looked it, but her sister was very athletic and loved to kick a ball around with her youngest sister. The blond-haired girl smiled slightly as she remembered her older sister's arm thrown about her shoulder as they walked through the neighborhood, discussing guys, games, everything. She remembered a rainy day like this one where her older sister had tackled her into the mud and tickled her excessively, and then they had rolled in the mud together, forgetting their age, forgetting everything.

Her blue eyes swam with tears and she withdrew slowly back into reality. The rose in her hand pricked her finger gently, a reminder. “I love you,” was all she said before dropping the rose down as well, where it settled atop the other two gently, caressing. Then, the youngest turned and joined her sisters, joining their embrace.

The three watched as men approached the grave with shovels and knew it was time to leave, for they could not bear to watch anymore. Together, they turned and began to walk slowly back to their car, but a sight met them that brought them to a halt.

Another family of sisters stood a little ways off, their arms around each other's shoulders comfortingly. On one end, the second-youngest sister stood, her light brown hair tied back in spirals around her head, tears in her eyes, her arms around her youngest sister, whose dark hair lay limp at her shoulders and whose eyes were on the ground, a bit awkwardly, but grief-stricken nonetheless. Beside her was the eldest, her black hair stiffly curled, and she was clothed in a long black overcoat, staring at the other family with intense eyes. The second born was holding the eldest's hand gently, her other hand on her stomach. Her long brown hair was in a half-ponytail, the absence of hair on her face accentuating her mouth and eyes, which were also on the three women approaching them.

Not a word was spoken as the two family's met each other. They all stood silently, just staring at one another, examining each other's eyes, searching for anything that would break the silence.

Then the eldest Charmed One stepped forward and held out her arms to the eldest of the three mourning sisters. Heather tried to smile, but instead, felt the anguish wash over her. She threw herself into Prue Halliwell's arms, breaking down into tears again, her sobs wrenching her throat and tears dampening Prue's coat. Prue held her tightly, her chin on Heather's shoulder and her arms clasped about he. She did not speak nor make a sound at all. Just let the other cry.

Lucy Miller went abruptly to Phoebe, who gathered her up in an embrace, shushing her and stroking her hair, kissing her forehead, trying to do anything to comfort the youngest Magicked One.

Piper Halliwell held out her arms to Samantha, the third-born Miller, but Samantha did not seem to notice. She was staring beyond Piper into the distance, her gaze unfocused. Then, suddenly, she yelled out loud in grief and dropped to her knees, oblivious to the mud-soaked puddle that she had collapsed into, and cried, her hands covering her face, her shoulders shaking with weeping. Startled, Piper looked abruptly to her youngest sister, who reached out a hand to her in response. The woman took it, and together, Paige and Piper looked helplessly on as Samantha wallowed in her sadness, drenched in the ill-timed rain and resulting mud.

This is how they remained for some time. They would return home, later, with heavy hearts and dry eyes and attempt to bring their lives back to normal. They would still have each other. All would return. All of them but one. One remained behind forever. A part of a legacy. A part of a legend. A part of a prophesy. A part of a family.


A/N: There IS a sequal in the works, but it might be some time!

[christycluvsp3]

I love this story! I can't wait to read more!

[~B@MeLiSsA30@B~]

Fantastic. 100%