It was a bright, sun-drenched Sunday morning in March, but Piper Halliwell's disposition was anything but sunny. The young woman stared sourly at her own reflection in the bathroom mirror, her features pinched and drawn into an almost permanent scowl, her jaw clenched with a simmering, unresolved anger. She'd been in a blue funk for several days, but now her sadness was giving way to a darkening rage.

She sighed heavily as she dressed for church. There didn't seem to be any point to it; there didn't seem to a point to much of anything - not with the bedroom across the hall from her sitting achingly empty.

"Phoebe made her choice," Prue had said, more than once, as if that settled the matter. But to Piper, the matter was hardly settled. Phoebe was gone. And the fact that Phoebe was gone was not nearly as painful as the reason why. To Piper's mind, the answer was plain and simple, and it galled her. Phoebe had a new family now, one she liked better than her old one.

Galled? No, that was the wrong word. Piper was wounded - as mortally wounded as if a knife had been stabbed into her heart. When Phoebe had returned from New York, it all felt as if things were going to be different now - the sisters had found the Book of Shadows, they had learned they were witches, but most importantly, they were a family again. If she could count on nothing else, Piper could count on the fact that no matter how weird things got, Prue and Phoebe would always be there. Until that black day only a few weeks ago, when Piper had found Phoebe injured and sobbing in the living room.

Piper had listened incredulously to Phoebe's story - that, somehow, she had been whisked away to another world, without any lapse of time in this one - and while there, she had met two other "sisters" to whom she had given her heart completely. What was worse, it soon fell out that Phoebe's story was actually true - and that she wanted to stay there, in that other world, with the sisters she considered family. Which left Piper with only one conclusion.

She wasn't family. Not any more.

She returned to her bedroom, fully dressed except for her shoes, and sat on the edge of her bed, hands folded in her lap, staring ahead without really seeing anything.

Prue Halliwell, dressed in a modest black dress and blazer jacket, peeked her head around the door frame.

"Andy's going to be here in ten minutes," she announced, fidgeting with one of her earrings.

Piper didn't shift her empty gaze. "I'm not going."

Frowning, Prue stepped into the bedroom. "What do you mean, you're not going?"

"I mean, I'm not going to church today," Piper answered. Her voice was too quiet, a sign of her suppressed anger.

"Why not? Aren't you feeling well?"

"No, I'm not feeling well," Piper said evenly.

Prue sighed sympathetically. She knew the reason behind Piper's malaise - she was feeling it herself. "Maybe you should come anyways," she suggested. "Might take your mind off things."

Slowly, Piper shook her head.

Prue regarded her younger sister with concern for a moment, and then took a seat beside her on the bed.

"Look, if you really don't want to go, I won't force you," Prue said softly. "How about, Andy and I will swing by the house after the service, we'll pick you up and we'll meet Paige for lunch."

"No."

"Piper - "

"I said, no, Prue." Piper finally turned her head to meet her sister's gaze. "I don't want to sit and have lunch and make small talk with strangers."

"There's a chance Paige isn't a stranger, Piper."

"I don't care. I don't care," Piper repeated, with rising heat. "I don't care how nice she is, and I couldn't give a damn if she's related to us. She's not my sister. I want my sister back. I want Phoebe."

Prue waited patiently and silently, knowing that Piper's anger was threatening to boil over.

"I really thought this time was going to be different," Piper said at last.

Prue frowned. "How do you mean?"

"You. Me. Phoebe. I really thought - I mean, I just had this feeling that we were finally done being apart. That we were going to be family. That we were going to be there for each other, and look out for each other."

"Phoebe's always gone off, searching for her heart's desire," Prue pointed out. "This time isn't any different, Piper."

"Sure it is. She's in another goddamn universe, Prue."

"That doesn't mean we won't ever see her again."

"I just keep thinking, how could she pick somebody else over us? Were we so terrible as sisters, that she couldn't wait to get away from us?"

Prue sighed sadly. "We haven't always been there for each other," she admitted. "But that's something we can change."

"How can you be okay with this, Prue? How?" Piper demanded, with sudden anger. "How can we be a family, if there's only two of us?"

"It's not just the two of us," Prue said quietly. "Soon, we'll find a way to cross the barrier, and we can be part of Phoebe's life again - "

"Yeah, but she's never going to be part of ours," Piper said bitterly. "She's replaced us."

Prue sighed heavily. "Piper -" she hesitated for a moment. "For the record, I'm not 'okay' with it, either," she admitted. "And yeah, I thought we were going to be a family again too. We were wrong. Phoebe made her choice, and now we have to make ours. We can either sit around and feel sorry for ourselves, or we can get on with our lives."

Fat tears welled in Piper's eyes. "Doesn't it bother you that we're never going to see Phoebe again?"

Prue bit her lip, and was a long time in answering. "If I really thought that was going to be true, then ..."

She couldn't even finish. The bitter truth was, if Phoebe had turned her back on her sisters, Prue would never trust anyone enough again to let them into her heart. Ever. The betrayal just hurt too much.

"We are going to find a way to see Phoebe again," Prue said firmly, trying to convince herself as much as Piper. "And what I hope is, we don't just get our sister back - maybe we get some new sisters, too. I think I could be okay with everything, if we could make that happen."

"That other Prue - she kept looking at me like I was some sort of ghost." Piper discreetly wiped a tear away. "Didn't she seem just totally weird to you?"

"It was weird, seeing myself being six years older, with a kid," Prue admitted. "And seeing another Phoebe - a demonized Phoebe." She shuddered involuntarily.

"I just - I don't even want to deal with it," Piper admitted. "Any of it. I just want things to go back to the way they were."

"I know, Piper, I know."

"I hate her."

"You don't hate her," Prue remonstrated gently. "You're just very angry with her."

"Aren't you?"

"I know Phoebe can be oblivious to our feelings sometimes -" Prue began, and then broke off. "Yeah," she admitted. "I'm angry with her too." She took in a deep breath. "But - I hope, when our prodigal sister returns, we'll forget about being angry and just be happy she's with us."

"I don't think I can forget being this angry," Piper said quietly.

"All the more reason you should come to church," Prue suggested. "Pray for temperance."

Piper snorted mirthlessly. "This is a switch," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"Usually, I'm the one defending Phoebe's behavior to YOU."

"I'm not defending her."

"Sure you are."

The doorbell rang.

"That'll be Andy," Prue sighed. She took her sister's hand in hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Come with us," she pleaded softly.

Piper shook her head. "I'm gonna pass."

"Okay, you don't have to come to church, but you have to come to lunch."

Piper sat as she was, resolutely discontent.

"You have to eat some time, Piper. So have lunch with your big sister today. Trust me. It will make her happy."

Prue got up to go, but as she did so, she leaned over and planted a tender kiss on her sister's cheek.

"I love you," she whispered, and then left the room.

Piper waited until she heard the front door downstairs close, and the sound of Andy's car driving away - then she crumpled into a ball of misery, weeping bitter tears.

Prue stared out the car window, much like her sister had done earlier, seeing nothing. Andy Trudeau noted Prue's pensive behavior, and mulled over the possibility of drawing her out in conversation.

"So, Phoebe's left town again?" he offered, as casually as he could.

Prue kept her gaze out the window. "Yes, she has."

"I thought she was back for good this time."

"So did I."

Andy pursed his lips, trying not to force the conversation. Prue was wont to withdraw into herself rather than talk issues out even at the best of times, but it was obvious she was under considerable stress.

"Prue, you know, if you ever need someone to talk to - "

"I know," Prue cut him off, and then, realizing that she was being brusque, she forced herself to look at him and smile. "I appreciate it, Andy. Thank you."

"If you want to keep whatever's going on private, that's fine. I just want you to know, if you need anything at all, you can ask me."

Prue's smile softened and became genuine. "You're a good man, Andy Trudeau."

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

"You're doing it now," Prue assured him. "You're taking me to church and giving me a strong arm to lean on. And I really do appreciate it, Andy."

Andy smiled back. This was as much as he was likely to get from her on the topic of Phoebe's departure - at least, for now. He decided to change subjects.

"So, who is it we're meeting for lunch today?"

"Her name is Paige Matthews. She's a social worker."

Andy frowned in concern. "She's not - "

"I'm not seeing her for professional reasons," Prue elaborated somewhat. "She's -" Prue hesitated for a moment. "There's a chance - she might be a relative of the Halliwell family."

"What, like, a lost cousin?"

"Something like that," Prue nodded.

"Really," Andy mulled that over, genuinely intrigued. "How'd you meet her?"

"Piper and I had lunch with her last week, and as we were talking, we realized we had too much in common to be just coincidence."

"Like what?"

Andy immediately regretted asking the question; Prue was shutting down again. He didn't need to be an inspector to know she wasn't being entirely candid.

Prue bit her lip, only too aware that Andy had seen holes in her story already - and she'd barely said anything. She sighed heavily.

"Andy, I'm sorry," she said contritely. "I really would like to be able to tell you everything. I just can't. Not right now."

Andy didn't reply, and Prue reached over, resting her hand on his knee.

"Prue, whatever it is you're scared of, you know you can talk to me, right?"

"I know, Andy. And, yes. I am scared. No," she corrected herself. "More than scared. I'm terrified."

Andy frowned again. "Are you in any kind of trouble?" he asked with concern.

"No," Prue assured him emphatically and honestly. "Everything's fine."

"Is it?" Andy asked pointedly.

"Everything's fine," Prue repeated evenly, but then her expression turned distinctly sorrowful. "It's just - right now, I really, really miss my baby sister."

After she had cried herself out, Piper finally unfurled herself from the bed, shrugged herself out of the dress she had decided she wasn't going to wear anyway, and quickly slipped into a oversize sweatshirt, jeans and sneakers.

She hadn't made any conscious decision about what she was doing; all she knew was, she couldn't stay in the house a minute longer. Not with that horribly empty bedroom across the hall, reminding her she no longer had a sister. Leaving behind even her purse, she grabbed only her house key and all but fled from the manor, walking briskly up the sidewalk in the bitingly cold March morning air, paying no attention whatever to where she was going.

"Hey, Piper!" A male voice called out. "Wait up!"

The voice didn't really register at first, and Piper kept walking mechanically, until she realized that the voice was one she recognized. Bewildered, she stopped and looked around her, but had almost decided she had been daydreaming, when she turned and abruptly ran into Leo Wyatt.

"L-Leo," Piper looked at him, dumbfounded. "What are you doing here?"

Leo smiled warmly at Piper. "Well, ahh . . . actually, I'm here to see you."

Piper was still too disoriented to be pleased. "Does that mean you're back?" she asked cautiously.

"If you want me to be. Yes."

Something like a moue of pain crossed Piper's face; she grimaced involuntarily. "I'm sorry, Leo. I'm just - I've had enough of people coming and going right now."

Leo didn't seem confused or put off by Piper's cryptic remark. "Where are you headed?" he asked.

"Don't know, don't care," Piper declared. "As long as I'm walking." And with that, she set off again.

Leo nodded soberly, and fell into step beside her.

"Leo, please, I really would rather be alone right now," Piper protested.

"I think it might be better if you were with someone," Leo said quietly. He paused. "I heard about Phoebe."

"You did?" Piper was genuinely surprised. "How?"

It was Leo's turn to grimace with irritation. "Man," he sighed, "This is gonna be awkward. Piper - I know about you - and your sisters. That you're witches. Charmed Ones."

Piper came to a sudden halt, and stared at Leo apprehensively.

"How did you know that?" she hissed, and then suddenly regarded him warily, wondering if she should be afraid of him.

Leo seemed to know what she was thinking. "No," he said firmly, "I'm not a demon."

Piper was in no mood for mere assurances. "Prove it," she snapped.

Leo sighed disconsolately, feeling the enormity of the task ahead of him. "There's a lot of things I need to tell you," he said finally. "And I'm really sorry. I should have told you before."

"Talk fast, Leo."

"Piper - everything you know about me so far is all true. You know I care about you. And I never would have left, if I didn't have to. But - I could never tell you why before." He looked at her pleadingly. "I need to tell you now."

"You have a wife in another state?" Piper guessed.

"Ahh - no."

"You're a warlock?"

"No."

"A wizard, then."

"No. Look - why don't we grab a cup of coffee, or something?" Leo suggested. "This might take a while."

They continued their walk up the street, and a few minutes later, they had settled themselves into a booth at a corner donut shop. Leo handed Piper a cup of coffee. She took it gratefully.

"Thanks."

She sipped at the bitter liquid slowly, savoring it, savoring the normalcy of the simple act of just drinking coffee. Leo took a swig from his own cup and then set it down.

"I really don't know where to start," he confessed. "So I guess I'm gonna just dive right in. Piper - have you ever heard of . . . White Lighters?"

Piper frowned. The term seemed familiar somehow, but she couldn't place it. Finally she shook her head.

"All good witches have guardians of some sort," Leo began his explanation. "Most have familiars. But truly powerful witches have - well, someone assigned to watch over them. To protect them."

"Wait a minute," Piper exclaimed, setting her own cup down, as a forgotten memory tugged at her mind. "You mean - that stupid story that Phoebe told me - that was TRUE?"

Leo frowned. "I'm not sure what you mean, what did she tell you?"

"Well, I don't know, Leo, I wasn't paying attention to her the first time." She put her head in her hands. "I can't believe I'm hearing this," she groaned. Finally she looked up. "So, what, you're an angel?"

"Uhh . . . not exactly."

"What exactly are you, then?"

"Angels have assigned me to watch over you and your sisters. To be your guardian."

"Angels. Real angels."

"Yup."

"Angels are real."

Leo gave her a wide grin. "Yes. They are."

"And I had to miss going to church today," Piper muttered to herself.

"I'm not a being of magic," Leo continued. "But - the angels have granted to me certain limited magical abilities, so that I can protect you and your sisters."

Piper glanced around her apprehensively, but no one in the busy coffee shop was paying the slightest attention to their ridiculous conversation.

"So, you can practice magic?"

"Not - really," Leo answered awkwardly. "It's kind of hard to explain."

"Try harder," Piper suggested brusquely.

"Do you remember when Rex Buckland stole your powers?"

"Yeah, I'm trying to forget about that, actually."

"I was the one who got your powers back."

"YOU did that?" Piper was genuinely surprised. "How? Wait. You know what? Never mind. So, if you're supposed to be our guardian angel, why did you leave us?"

Leo sighed heavily. He gave Piper such a longing look she began to feel almost uncomfortable.

"I didn't leave because I wanted to," he said finally. "White Lighters aren't supposed to fall in love with the witches they protect."

Piper pondered the implications of Leo's words. "You mean - that - uhh -"

"I love you, Piper. I'm in love with you."

Piper felt as if the bottom of the world was falling out from underneath her - but in the best way possible. She reached out for Leo's hand. He took her smaller hand in hers and clasped it.

"Please tell me you're staying," Piper said finally.

Leo's broad smile was warmer than the sunlight. "I'm staying."

Piper closed her eyes for a moment, realizing with utter certainty, that at least one of her prayers had been answered.

"You okay?" Leo asked, when Piper opened her eyes again.

Piper slowly shook her head. "I'm really feeling - overwhelmed," she answered.

"I know what you mean," Leo nodded sympathetically. "Anyway, after that whole business with Buckland happened, the elders wanted to reassign me to someone else, because they knew that you and I were starting to have . . . feelings for each other. But then, Phoebe disappeared."

Piper frowned. "Wait, these - these elders - they knew about that?"

"They know Phoebe's gone. They just don't know where."

"She's in an alternate universe," Piper declared, happy at last to be able to throw confusing information at someone else, instead of always being the recipient of it.

"She's what?"

"Yup. She's on another damn planet, with another Prue, and another Halliwell sister."

"You're sure about that?"

"I've been there, Leo. I'm sure."

As Leo tried desperately to wrap his head around that news, Piper sighed disconsolately. The young man frowned with concern.

"Piper, I'm so sorry. I had no idea."

"It's not your fault." She managed a weak smile. "But as long as you're staying - then I think I might forgive you."

"I'm staying."

Piper leaned back in her seat, and sighed. "So. There are real angels, and real witches."

"Yes. There are."

"We're not the only ones?"

Leo grinned. "No. You're not."

"Are there lots of witches?" Piper asked, curious.

"You mean, witches like you, and your sisters?" Leo sought to clarify.

"Yeah."

"At a rough guess - I'd say about a couple hundred living in America, and probably a couple thousand more scattered around the rest of the world. But none as powerful as you."

"And these ... elders? Who - or what - are they?"

"Honestly, I don't know a whole lot about them," Leo admitted. "I'm not - well, ascended high enough, I guess. All I can tell you for certain is that they're a group of lower ranked angels tasked with protecting good witches everywhere. "

"Uh-huh." Piper decided she couldn't care less about the elders. Save for one concern. "They're - not going to ask you to leave again, are they?"

Leo smiled. "No."

Coming to a decision, Piper got up out of her side of the booth, and gave Leo a none too gentle nudge. "Move over."

She slid onto the seat next to him.

"Hold me," she pleaded.

Leo was only too happy to oblige, encircling Piper protectively in his muscular arms. She lay her head against his shoulder. A single, traitorous tear spilled down one cheek.

"She left us, Leo," Piper said brokenly. "She left me."

Leo gave Piper a paternal kiss on the forehead and held her tightly. And for a time, they were aware of no one but each other.

Prue Halliwell would be the first to say she didn't have what was considered a clingy personality, but all throughout the church service, and on the way back to the car, she found herself hanging onto Andy Trudeau as if for dear life. When Andy put his arm around her, she snuggled against him, so much so they had to walk slowly.

By this time, Andy knew better than to try to interrogate Prue directly; whatever secrets she was hiding, she would decide when she was ready to share them. But her suffering was so acute, and so obvious, he wished desperately she could just simply tell him what the hell was going on.

Even after they got back in the car, as they settled themselves into their seats, Prue reached over and grabbed Andy's hand, almost like a child. Instead of starting the car, Andy sat patiently while Prue struggled with the feelings she was clearly trying to suppress.

"How can I help you?" Andy asked finally.

"Andy..." Prue managed a wan smile. "Do you think - after we meet Paige for lunch, can we - go back to your place?"

Andy didn't want to read anything into the request. He simply nodded. "Sure, Prue."

Prue bit her lip. "I - I want to spend the night," she confessed haltingly. "With you."

Andy's answering smile had far more tenderness than lust in it. "I would like that."

"It's just - I'm feeling really . . . fragile . . . right now," she admitted. "I could really use some comforting."

"Whatever you need."

"And some animal warmth." Prue's shy smile turned lustful. Andy felt his heart skip a beat. He squeezed her hand gently.

Hesitantly, Prue leaned over, and they shared a tender kiss. Andy couldn't help smiling.

"I've really missed this," he said softly.

"Yeah. Me too." Prue kissed him again, a quick, gentle brush of the lips. "I'm so sorry, Andy."

"What for?"

"I've been holding you at arm's length for a long time now," Prue admitted, her voice shaking slightly. "And I never meant to do that."

"I hope you know, you can tell me anything."

"If you keep on being so perfect - I just might." Prue smiled at him, tears welling in her eyes. "Thank you."

As Andy gave her a quizzical glance, Prue added, "For being strong. For being kind. For giving me all the time and space I've needed to work things out."

"I love you, Prue," Andy said impulsively.

They kissed again, a long, slow, lingering kiss, tinged with sorrow as well as passion.

"I love you, Andy Trudeau," Prue confessed at last. "With all my heart."

Her defenses for the moment rebuilt, she gave him her most radiant smile.

"I love that smile," Andy declared. "It's the most beautiful thing in the world."

Prue drooped her head shyly, still smiling, clasping his hand.

"Yeah, I like yours too." Her voice had trailed off into a carnal whisper.

After a long moment, she sighed and sat up straight.

"Ready for lunch?" Andy asked.

"Let me try calling Piper first," Prue said, digging her phone out of her purse. She dialed the manor and put the phone to her ear. As the answering machine picked up, Prue brushed away a stray lock of ebony hair from her face.

"Hey, Piper, it's me. If you're home, pick up," she said. After waiting several seconds, she added, "Andy and I are on our way over to Quake. If you get this message and need a ride, just call me back, okay? I love you."

After waiting a moment more, she hung up. "I guess she went out."

"Do you still want to go to the restaurant?"

"Yeah. Paige will be waiting for us - and we're late already. So let's go."

Paige Matthews fidgeted nervously at the restaurant. She had arranged to meet Prue and Piper Halliwell for lunch, and she was obviously the first to arrive; but after waiting almost twenty minutes, she was beginning to wonder if she hadn't made a mistake. Finally, Prue and Andy walked up to the table.

"Paige. Hi," Prue greeted her breathlessly. "I'm so sorry we're late."

"That's all right," Paige smiled in relief. She stood up to greet the new arrivals. Tall and slender, she wore a modest black dress that could work equally well in either formal or informal settings. Her shoulder length, fire-red hair cascaded gently around her moon-shaped face and soulful eyes. She smiled politely and extended her hand in greeting.

"This is my boyfriend, Andy Trudeau," Prue made introductions. "Andy, this is Paige Matthews."

"Pleasure to meet you," Andy smiled, taking Paige's hand and clasping it.

"Likewise." She turned to Prue. "I thought you were bringing your sister."

"She - wasn't feeling too well this morning," Prue allowed.

"Sorry to hear that."

"Anyways, thanks for meeting us."

They all sat down together.

"So, Prue tells me you guys might be related?" Andy decided to try a softball question.

"That's what she says," Paige smiled with bemusement. "I honestly don't know anything about my birth family," she admitted cautiously.

Paige seemed reluctant to elaborate, so Andy changed the topic. "So, what do you do for a living?"

"I work for Bay Area Social Services. I'm basically a paid intern at the moment. But my goal is to become a qualified social worker."

"Wow, that's great," Andy said with genuine admiration. "There's always a need for good people in that field."

"Thanks. How about you?"

"I'm a homicide detective."

"Really." Paige seemed impressed. "Wow."

"Inspector, Andy," Prue corrected him with a grin. "You're an inspector."

"Sounds better than gumshoe," he grinned back in agreement.

Paige looked to one, then the other. "How did you guys meet?" she asked, genuinely curious. "I mean, art curator and homicide detective? Doesn't sound like you'd have a whole lot in common, you know?"

Andy and Prue both laughed.

"We're childhood sweethearts," Prue explained. "We had our first fling in high school. And just recently, we ran into each other again after not seeing each other for a few years, and -" she smiled shyly. "We decided maybe it was time to try romance again, as adults."

"Wow. That's pretty cool," Paige smiled in return.

"How about you, Paige? Anybody special in your life?"

Paige shook her head. "Nope, no significant others, no friends with benefits," she declared. "No attachments of any kind." She bobbed her head solemnly. "Kind of married to the job right now."

"We know how that goes," Prue agreed sympathetically.

There was a pause in the conversation as one of the wait staff brought over a tray of water glasses and menus.

"So, what's good here?" Paige asked. "I think you guys told me, your sister works here, right?"

"She's day shift manager during the week," Prue nodded.

"So, you should have the inside scoop, then."

Prue laughed. "There's nothing bad here." She glanced at the cocktail menu. "Would you like to order a drink first?"

Paige shifted in her chair slightly. "Ahh, no, thanks," she demurred. "I, ahh, got into a little trouble with alcohol when I was younger. Trying to stay away."

"Say no more," Prue gave her a reassuring smile, tucking the menu behind the condiment tray. "We'll stick with iced teas and waters."

"Thanks." Paige gave Prue a grateful smile.

After they had placed their orders, Paige decided she had worked up the courage to approach the main topic of discussion.

"So, I'm curious," she began shyly, "How you decided we might be related?"

"Well, that's based on information I got from my youngest sister, Phoebe."

"She's the one who's traveling right now?"

"That's her. There's three of us - me, Piper and Phoebe. I'm the oldest. I'm going to be twenty-nine this year," she made a face. "Piper's not quite two years younger. Phoebe's the baby of the family. We don't see her much," Prue added sadly. "She gets wanderlust. She came back from New York City just a couple of months ago, and now she's off God knows where."

"You miss her," Paige observed quietly.

"I miss her a lot," Prue admitted somberly. She forced herself to smile, to cover her pathos. "Anyway - if what she tells us is true, there's a possibility you might be our half-sister - on our mother's side."

"I have to admit, I was kinda curious," Paige allowed. "I was adopted as a baby. But if you think it's true, couldn't you just ask your mom?"

"She's - my mom's dead," Prue answered, unable to think of any way to soften the awkwardness.

"God. Prue, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, Paige. Really. There's no way you could have known."

"What about your dad?"

"My dad's still alive." Prue sighed heavily. "The most diplomatic thing I can say about him is, I'm lucky he's not around."

Paige grimaced. "Yikes. Okay, so, you're not close then."

"No. But for whatever it's worth, I don't think we have the same father."

Paige decided to let that remark pass without comment. "I don't know anything about my birth family," she confided. "My foster parents died in a car crash when I was fifteen."

"Oh, Paige. I guess now it's my turn to be sorry," Prue said somberly.

"It's okay. Like you said, you couldn't have known. Anyway, I had gone through church adoption services as an infant, so I checked with their registry. I was a literal foundling. A man and a woman came into the church one night, handed me to one of the nuns, and just - took off." Paige pursed her lips, realizing how pitiful such an explanation might sound.

"And the nuns had no description of your parents?"

"Nothing that would be of any use in identifying them," Paige sighed. "Assuming it was my mom and dad. I don't even really know that for sure. The only thing they could tell me was, the couple insisted they were leaving me with the church in order to keep me safe. The nun who spoke with them said they seemed heartbroken."

Pure mulled over that information for a long moment. "If you don't mind my asking, how old are you?"

"Twenty-three."

"And when were you born?"

"August 2nd. 1977. I mean, that was the best guess the nuns could make. Nobody really knows for sure."

Prue frowned, concentrating hard. "Mom was still alive then," she murmured aloud, thinking to herself. "There's one way we can be sure if there really is anything to this," she decided aloud. "Would you be willing to have a DNA test? See if we can get a match?"

"What, you mean, between the two of us?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, okay." Paige gave Prue a shy smile.

Prue sensed some hesitation. "You're sure? I don't want to push you into anything."

"No, no, it's fine, really," Paige assured her. "It's just - I don't want to get my hopes up too much, you know?"

"I understand," Prue said sympathetically.

Piper and Leo were slowly walking back in the direction of the manor, hand-in-hand, unhurried, relaxed; in complete contrast to Piper's panicked and hasty flight a short time earlier.

"I'm glad you came back," Piper admitted quietly. "I was really starting to feel - abandoned," she almost spat out the word.

"Well, from what you've told me, it sure sounds like Phoebe was placed in an impossible situation."

"It's not impossible," Piper objected, but she didn't raise her voice. The fit of grief and rage had passed over, and for the moment, she was feeling quite calm, and slightly empty. "We're her family. She should have stayed with us."

"I'm not trying to defend her actions, Piper."

"I know. And I can't even say I would've have acted any differently, if I were in her place. I guess I'm just glad I haven't been in a situation where I had to find out."

She gave him a rueful grin. "And I really can't believe I'm even talking about all this with you."

"It does seem a little surreal, doesn't it?" Leo agreed with some sympathy.

"Oh . . . damn!" Piper swore softly.

"What is it?"

Piper made a moue of irritation. "It's nothing. I was supposed to meet Prue for lunch, and I didn't bring my phone. She's gonna think I stood her up."

"Well . . . I'm pretty sure you guys can schedule a make-up date."

"Yeah, but - we were supposed to meet Paige, and - " she broke off. "Oh, wow, you haven't heard this yet, have you? When Phoebe went off to this other planet, wherever the hell it is, she met a girl named Paige Matthews. And apparently, she's a half-sister to that family of Halliwells. When we got home, Prue did a search on the Internet, and found a Paige Matthews living here in San Francisco."

"You think she's related to you?" Leo raised an eyebrow.

"Well, that's just it, Leo. We have no idea." Absent-mindedly, Piper kicked at a small stone on the sidewalk with the tip of her shoe. "We had lunch with her last week."

"What did you tell her?"

"Nothing, yet. Except that we thought she might be related to us somehow."

As Leo gave her a concerned look, Piper gave him a tolerating smile in return. "What? Did you think we were going to tell her that we're witches? And that she might be a witch too?"

"Did you?" Leo shot back.

Piper snorted. "Not likely," she declared. "Just lobbing the whole 'hey-you-might-be-family' wrecking ball was enough for a first meeting."

"So?"

"So, what?"

"Do you think she's related to you?"

"Leo, how the hell should I know? I sure didn't ask her if she keeps a cauldron in her kitchen, or anything like that."

It was Leo's turn for a tolerant smile. "What's your gut reaction?"

"She seems nice enough," Piper replied. "But honestly, Leo, I don't know. For all I know, it's just coincidence, and maybe she has nothing whatever to do with us."

"Well..." Leo mused in a long, drawn-out sigh. "I guess we'll find out soon enough, won't we?"

Paige Matthews returned to her tiny one bedroom apartment, feeling something very much like relief. The day had not been a long one, but she felt exhausted nonetheless. The lunch date with Prue Halliwell and her boyfriend had been pleasant enough. But the implications of their meeting tugged at her heart as well as her mind, and she felt strangely disquieted. Family? Was it possible, after all this time, she might have found her birth family?

She shrugged herself out of her dress and pumps, and hurriedly pulled on a comfortable set of sweats. She poured herself a glass of water, and then flopped herself down into a recliner chair. She picked up the remote and switched on the TV set, leaving the sound off. Mechanically, she began flicking through channels, as her mind wandered elsewhere.

She tried to concentrate on Prue's face. Was there a family resemblance there? She decided she couldn't tell. And what if they were related? Was this someone she wanted to let into her life?

"Not that you have a life," she commented aloud to herself, looking around the tiny room. For nearly her entire adult life, she had been singularly - she searched for the right word - untethered. No close friends, no lovers - at least, not anyone for whom she felt any great emotional attachment. And that had been largely intentional on her own part. Reluctantly, she admitted a dark truth to herself: afraid of being hurt, of being abandoned, as she had been twice as a child - it was too much. And she had quite deliberately never let anyone get close to her after that.

"To lose one set of parents can be counted a misfortune," she modified the old quote for her own amusement. "To lose two, smacks of carelessness."

Normally, she could deflect her darker thoughts with sarcastic humor, but today the exercise seemed hollow. She was alone. And she was tired of being alone. She wanted desperately to belong - to be with someone, anyone. To have friends. A lover. And most of all, a family. And now that a real prospect to end her self-imposed isolation was laid bare before her, she had to admit - it terrified her.

There was a heavy, violent knock at her apartment door, and Paige nearly leaped out of her skin. "AAHHH!"

She got up out of the chair, her heart thundering in her chest. The angry knock repeated, so forcefully that Paige could swear she saw the door shuddering in its hinges. She wondered, briefly, if it might be a better idea to not answer - and then, as she watched incredulously, the door was forcibly kicked in, splintering in its frame.

"Jesus!" Paige exclaimed. "What the - "

Her voice trailed off as she stared at the figure in the doorway. It was a man, or at least, it appeared to be a man - but there was something bestial in his aspect. He stood nearly seven feet tall, his frame impossibly muscular, dressed mostly in rags, and his mouth was open in an ugly snarl. His entire body seemed to glow faintly with some blue light, as if from phosphorescence or putrefaction - but it was his eyes that made Paige's blood ran cold. They seemed to be little more than empty sockets, within them a total absence of light - a darkness so profound that instinctively Paige shuddered with revulsion. She swallowed hard.

"Who - WHAT - are you?" she managed to ask.

"I am Shax," said the demon, almost politely. "And you - are dead."