A/N: Apologising in advance for my French. I don't really speak the language, I'm just interested.

Paris, 1616.

The moon was high that night, full and bright and shimmering silver. Ava had been staring at it through the window, mesmerised. She pressed her little hand to the window pane and pretended she could reach it. A dog could be heard barking somewhere in the streets below. She blew out a breath onto the cold glass and traced the shape of the moon with her finger, a few dots surrounding it for stars.

"Come away from the window." Her mother called from behind her, "Come, come." She beckoned, hastily grabbing a number of garments before throwing them inside a worn canvas bag. There was a look in her eyes a lot like fear. Even at ten years old, Ava knew what that look meant.

They were leaving.

Again.

She couldn't help but feel disappointed. This house, small as it was among the townhouses of rural Paris, was home to her for the past five years. She didn't want to leave it. A hooded cloak lay spread out on the bed, child-sized and made of thick red material designed to keep her warm against strong winds, waiting to be worn. Her mother was already wearing hers.

She folded her arms across her chest as tight as she could, furrowing her brow into a stubborn frown as a sign of protest. If her mother wanted to leave then she could do so without her.

"Je ne quitterai pas." She was sure she sounded like a spoiled brat. Good, she thought. She hoped her mother knew how angry she was with her in this moment.

She stared at the little girl for half a heartbeat with her clear cobalt eyes before quickly kneeling down to her level. Ava flinched, expecting her to be angry. But she wasn't, and it had nothing to do with her protest.

"English! Please, Ava." Her tone pleading. Her parents had both encouraged her to speak particular sentences in English for weeks, realising now that the reason was because they were planning on uprooting her to a strange new life in England. They had told her all about how exciting England would be and how beneficial it would be to their family. But how could they expect her to leave France? Though she hadn't been born here, it felt like home.

"Why?" Ava complained.

Her mother sighed in response, running her fingers along her porcelain cheek. "Sweet girl," She began, "You may not like it very much now but someday you will understand that it is for the best, so that you may lead a happy life. I pray that you will know a freedom that I never had." It certainly didn't feel like it was for the best. She was about to strike up an opposing argument when the door swung open.

A fair haired man stood in the doorway, smiling when he saw them. "Papa!" Ava shouted, running into his arms. He picked her up with ease, nestling his face into her neck as she wrapped her little arms around his neck.

"I have something for you, little one." Even he was speaking English. She wanted to frown at him but the excitement was bubbling up inside her. He set her down on the ground before peeling the leather strap from around his neck, holding out a copper, leather bag to her. "Now you have someplace safe to keep your belongings." He told her as she examined it with childlike wonderment. It was simple with a single button fastened to the flap, big enough to carry everything she needed. Something created just for her and her alone.

Her father wrapped an arm around his wife's shoulders, whispering to her, "Don't look so startled, Ingrid." His lips brushed against her cheek as her mouth curled into a faint smile. They watched as their daughter filled her new bag with smaller items of clothing and a tin box that contained a collection of crystals, candles and other minor tokens of witchcraft that her mother had promised to teach her how to use soon.

It was a cherished last moment of the life they had built for themselves. They had so much hope for their future, hoping that they were doing the right thing and that their secrets would remain uncovered.

"Gentille petite fille," –'Sweet girl.' Her mother, Ingrid, wrapped the smaller cloak around her, "It is time for us to leave." There was something golden and gleaming in her hand, "Put this on, you'll need it." Gently, she placed a thin chain around her neck, a pocket watch pendant attached to it. It felt heavy on her small body. Back then she hadn't known exactly what the importance of the jewellery was but knew better than to question it.

They left that night, together. It was one of the last times that all three of them were together.

It became apparent to Ava that she was dreaming because she was not a little girl anymore and she certainly didn't have a family anymore. They were all dead.

It came to her in a flickering afterthought that she considered the possibility that this was a kind of afterlife, that maybe this was what death felt like. And she was at peace with the idea. She felt relieved, happy almost. Until she realised that this life would never be so kind as to simply let her die.

Her daydreams disintegrated. The haze lifted and its place was a reality she didn't recognise. Glass light fixtures along the ceiling. Wooden archways. A blur of sunlight flowing overhead.

Where was this place?

The last thing Ava could remember was bright lights, like starlight twinkling in the hours of day. She had closed her eyes and let herself be taken by the enemy, giving up. She knew that she hadn't fought as hard as she could have, but was tired and weak and filled with a desperate wish for it all to end, and so surrendered to whatever wretched fate awaited her.

She relived that moment over and over again in an attempt to put the pieces together. What had happened after she was taken? Why couldn't she remember?

She hadn't realised she wasn't alone until soft breathing could be heard next to her. Turning her head to the side in a slow manner as not to alert them to her sudden consciousness, she found there was a dark haired stranger crouched next to her. His head hung low, his hand on top of hers.

There was something so familiar about him but she couldn't figure out what. She couldn't remember how she had gotten here. Had he somehow rescued her from her attacker? He was touching her. Nobody touched her. Then why was she so reluctant to drag herself away? Her brain felt murky and was slow to make the connection. But when it did, it hit her hard and fast. She recognised him.

Though he had done nothing to provoke or endanger her, she was sure he soon would. They always did. A harsh, cold feeling flooded through her, unable to distinguish whether it was fear or anger overpowering her and telling her to get out, run away, run anywhere. She moved slowly, cautious, gently pulling her hand away from his. His head tilted up, stunned.

Those eyes, the colour of pale jade stone. She had to remind herself that evil came in many forms. Her senses came flooding back to her, heightened and working in overdrive.

A sudden rush of adrenaline came flooding into her veins and instinct took over for a second. It happened so fast she hadn't had time to think about what she was doing. With precision and accuracy, she jabbed two fingers into the nape of his neck. Only hard enough to injure him but it was reassuring to know that she had taken him by surprise. He spluttered, grabbing his neck, struggling to catch his breath. He coughed a few times before realising she wasn't on the sofa anymore.

"Qu'avez-vous fait? Qu'avez-vous fait?" She couldn't stop screaming, "Rester loin de moi! Je vais vous tuer!"

She was standing with her back pressed against the wall, watching him grasping at his neck in a state of shock, and hoping he couldn't see her trembling. Her heart sank when she realised that what she had just said. French words had slipped past her lips for the first time in years like an impulse, as if she believed she was still living in the world she had dreamt of.

Her adrenalin rush was wearing off. Alarm bells were ringing inside her head. Her instincts were searching for an escape. But it soon dawned on her that her bag wasn't around her neck where it usually was and there was no feasible way she was prepared to leave it behind.

She hoped he wouldn't come any closer. Why wasn't he attacking? Was this some kind of plan? Was he waiting for others, or trying to lure her into the lull of false security and strike when he thought she wouldn't expect it. Well she would be prepared. What was he waiting for?

That was when she saw her, the brunette woman with the kind eyes she had met in her search for Prue. It was oddly comforting to see a familiar face.

"Whoa, it's okay." She said with her hands raised. What was her name? She was sure it began with a P. "My name is Piper, you're safe here. Nobody's going to hurt you." Piper, that was it.

Green Eyes was watching her with some surprise as Piper came to stand by his side. This couldn't be right. How could someone like him be here with a mortal? Her body stayed by the wall, keeping her distance, but she listened attentively. "Oh him!" She gestured to Chris, who was still clutching his throat, "No, no. He's one of us."

"Where am I?" Her throat felt like sandpaper.

"Somewhere safe." Piper said.

Ava glanced around, absorbing her surroundings, searching for an escape. "How..."

"I brought you here." Green Eyes answered, rubbing his throat. Maybe she had hit him with a little more force than intended. "You were sick, really sick, and there were people here who could help." Nobody could help her, she thought. By all reasonable logic she should be dead right now, yet here she stood, healed and alive at his request. The henchmen chasing her were trained to kill, not injure, or so she had thought. He couldn't be one of them. She remembered now; the way he appeared as if from nowhere, their confrontation and the blinding white lights that had consumed them. The memory was hazy but it was there nonetheless.

Why would he take it upon himself to save her life? She was a stranger appearing from nothing and nowhere, and yet he had found her. It didn't seem right. He was no mortal, she was sure of that, but was plagued with the idea that pethaps Piper wasn't exactly who she thought either.

Green Eyes sighed and ran a hand through his hair, looking down at the ground as if he'd find the right words there. Piper beat him to it. "I know this must seem frightening to you but whoever –whatever— attacked you can't hurt you anymore. My sisters and I will take care of it. The more you can tell us about what happened, the better."

They were both watching her in anticipation of her reaction. But they weren't going to get one. Her face remained unconcerned, refusing to let the horror take a hold of her. 'My sisters and I will take care of it...' How could they ever contemplate the thought of putting themselves in that kind of danger? They didn't stand a chance. It was becoming apparent to Ava that the Halliwell's were anything but ordinary mortals, and it stung like she had just been struck across the face to realise that her friend, Prue, had not been either. But why go seeking out the very thing she had tried so hard to avoid? Didn't they know what they were up against?

Green Eyes leaned across to Piper in order to whisper something that Ava couldn't hear. "Did you find anything in the book?" He knew she wouldn't pry into the girl's attack if she had any other source of information.

"No, nothing." Piper replied in a hushed tone. "I didn't have a lot to go on. Maybe she heard a name or something."

Ava spotted her bag close to where she had been lying. It carried the few items that were precious to her and it was lying on the floor next to Green Eyes' feet. There was no way she could reach it without being caught herself.

"Wait, there was nothing? Are you sure? Maybe you should check again." He whispered, stepping back to discuss the topic further.

"I checked the entire book twice and the closest I found was demons that release deadly toxins with a bite and darklighters that poison using arrows, but since she had no bite marks or arrows sticking out if her I'd say it was neither."

Ava observed their momentary distraction. Her bag was mere inches from her reach; she could grab it and be out of their lives in a heartbeat. She bided her time, carefully calculating the scenario. Green Eyes folded his arms tightly across his chest while the Halliwell sister used hand gestures as she spoke. Her window of opportunity was closing, fast. Keeping a close eye on the two, she grabbed the leather strap and escaped through the arch unnoticed. Just like that. The only tell tale sign that she was gone was the click of the front door behind her.

"Oh crap." Piper exclaimed, staring at the empty space. "Well, don't just stand there, go after her!" She patted his back in encouragement, half pushing him out the door already. He suppressed the natural urge to orb as neighbours could easily be watching, and instead ran swiftly to the sidewalk, where he saw that she hadn't gotten very far nor was she running anymore. He caught up with her.

"Where are you going?" She made no indication that she heard him but Chris swore her pace had quickened. "You know, this would be a lot easier if you would just talk to me." He called after her. He rushed up ahead of her, putting a hand out in front of her, blocking her path. "Look, kid, I can't just let you go."

"Kid?" She repeated incredulously.

"Not until I can figure out how to stop whatever attacked you."

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

Chris sighed in frustration. He had a lot resting on this girl and failing was not an option. She was beginning to walk away again when he took her elbow in his grip, gently as he recalled her rather impressive defensive skills. He spun her around until he was staring down on steel grey eyes. "It's not safe out here and honestly, you're not well."

"I feel fine." She tugged her arm away. She was looking at him as if she still regarded him as a threat.

"Easy, Cujo, I'm just trying to help."

She stared at him blankly, a little taken aback. "My name is not Cujo." He pinched the bridge of his nose, holding back a chuckle. A glimmer of gold hanging around her neck caught his eye.

"What is that? A necklace?" He said as he reached for the exposed pendant. His fingers barely skimmed the metal when she grabbed it from him and held it in a tight fist before he could get a good look at it. He tried again, his tone collected and controlled. "All I'm trying to say is that I know about this kind of stuff. I can help."

"No. You can't."

"What?" He asked, bewildered.

"You can't stop him."

Chris stared at her for a moment, wondering if he had heard her correctly. "Him? You know who did this?"

"Not exactly, no. It's complicated."

"Then explain it to me."

Her eyes were looking away, almost as if she were talking to herself. "He's been following me for centuries."

He chuckled under his breath. "I'm sure it feels like a long time, kid, but try to be more specific."

"You don't understand. He's been following me for centuries." Well, that didn't sound reassuring.

"What did you say your name was?"

"You never asked for my name."

"Well I'm asking now."

"Ava." She replied reluctantly. Obviously she wasn't interested in trading life stories but at least he had her name. That was progress.

He nodded. "Good. We should go inside and I'll explain everything."

"Explain what exactly?"

"I would've preferred to have this conversation inside." He glanced over his shoulder while he spoke, as if somebody might be listening. "The thing is...I'm your whitelighter." He announced somewhat triumphantly. Chris noticed the hardened look on her face, a hostile expression still regarding him with suspicion.

"Is this some kind of moronic practical joke?"

"You don't know what a whitelighter is? How can a witch not know what a whitelighter is? Didn't your parents teach you anything?" Her eyes turned cold. A silence hung in the air. It seemed to be a favoured response with this girl, as if she were being interrogated and refused to cooperate out of honour. Or stubbornness. Chris hadn't decided yet. He sighed. "You're my responsibility now. I'm here to protect you."

She frowned. "I don't require protecting."

He mumbled, "Yeah, I noticed." feeling his throat twinge. As if he had reminded her of something, Ava patted the side of her pocket in search of something that was no longer there. It dawned on Chris what she was looking for. "If you're looking for your knife, you dropped it before I brought you here." He thought of the tiny pocket knife she had pulled out when he first met her. It probably wouldn't have done much damage but she sure had tried.

Her expression looked eerily controlled. "I thought you were somebody else." She said frankly.

"Yeah, well, you can't just go around attacking strangers for looking at you sideways." Chris could see that this was not going well. He had to get her back to the house, convince her to trust him, and to do that he was going to have to step up his game. "So what are you going to do? Go looking for this thing and get yourself killed in the process? Am I the only one who sees a problem with that plan?" He kept his expression steady, waiting patiently to see if she was buying it.

"I never said I wanted to go looking for him, only that you shouldn't."

Chris had always had a talent for...influencing others. He liked to think of it as a way he had of persuading others, a kind of charm, and if there was one thing he knew how to do it was bring people around to his way of thinking. After all, he had convinced a handful of Valkyries to trap Leo upon his command. When the time came that he needed something from someone he usually found a way to appeal to people. Of course, more often than not, he had better luck appealing to women. And it was becoming apparent that he was going to have to use a lot of it to convince this girl to trust him.

"Come on, you don't really want to go roaming the streets like that do you?" He asked.

"Like what?"

"With blood all over your clothes. I mean, I know there a lot of strangely dressed people in San Francisco but I don't think that'll go down so well." She was observing her torn clothing and the dirt caked underneath her fingernails when she tilted her head in consideration. "Why don't you come back to the manor, we'll find you some clean clothes, ask you a few questions, and if you still don't want my help then you can be on your way."

Her eyes darted up at him in a way that reminded Chris of birds of prey. Her gaze was focussed, almost stern, but considerably softened in comparison to their encounter back at the manor. It registered to Chris that that look was one of consideration as she was almost on the verge of trusting him, and that was at least progress. He was choosing to take it as a positive sign.

She inhaled deeply, looking up at him and his pleading eyes. She nodded and Chris tried to stop himself from grinning like an idiot. He stood watching her for half a heartbeat, feeling grateful for whatever changed her mind. He guided her back inside.

~.~.~

Stepping inside with a fresh pair of eyes induced a rush of memories to flood back to Ava. When she had befriended Prue she had been invited into her world, invited into her home, briefly encountering her family. She had caught a glimmer of the real world and it enchanted her.

The grandfather clock still stood tall and regal against the far back wall, the aged photographs remained in their untouched positions on the wall. Some of the ornaments had changed however. A tiny brass elephant sculpture caught her eye among plant pots. Everything inside the house felt like it had been crafted a hundred years ago, mesmerising in a rich and timeless way.

Piper was standing in the living room with her arms crossed. She must have been waiting for them to return. She smiled at Ava, a warm smile that held no trace of underlying cynicism. "I hoped you would come back." She said.

The moment she said it Ava felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. The regret was overbearing. She shouldn't have come back here. Hadn't she learned from her past yet? She was a danger to everyone that she came into contact with. How many more people had to die before she learned her lesson?

"You'll soon wish that I hadn't." Ava responded in a hushed tone. Piper's brow creased, tilting her head slightly.

Chris spoke up, "Yeah, she's a real optimist. Likes to talk in riddles."

"Chris..." Piper criticised him. She turned back to the young girl, "I hope you'll forgive me for my mistake earlier."

"What do you mean?" Ava asked, frowning slightly.

"I should have known that you needed help. I've been doing this for a long time, I should have realised." It was clear that Piper was beating herself up over something that was never really her fault to begin with. Ava wanted to say something comforting, anything that would make her feel better, but she realised she didn't know how.

"You were not at fault. I hadn't intended to drag others into my problems."

Chris caught the obvious insinuation of her sentence. She wasn't happy to be back here. Tough. He had a job to do. "Well, it doesn't matter whether you did or didn't. You're here now and that makes this our problem." He wanted to get this over with the sooner the better.

"He's right. We need to find this thing before it hurts somebody else." Piper agreed, much to Chris's surprise.

Ava looked perplexed. "I don't understand. Why is that your concern?"

Piper's expression changed. "You came here looking for the Charmed Ones, didn't you?" She looked like she was just becoming aware of something, the recognition was written all over her face. She was watching Ava with careful eyes.

Chris didn't seem to be paying much attention. "Let's just get this over with, alright. I have things to do. I'll get the book and see if she recognises anything."

"Wait." Piper began, "We should probably fix you up first." She placed a kind hand against Ava's arm, "You'll need something to wear. I'll show you to the bathroom if you want to take a shower."

Ava felt somewhat surprised. She had taken care of herself for so long she had almost forgotten what it felt like to get such a kind offer. Her hair was sticking to the back of her neck and her feet ached from running. A long, hot soak sounded wonderful. She nodded, "Thank you."

Piper smiled softly in response before showed her upstairs. They passed the aged photographs hanging proudly from the wall, displaying decade's worth of memories. A pang of something a lot like jealousy drummed through her heart. Ava could remember what it felt like to have a family. She remembered hope and joy. That feeling of unity and belonging and unconditional love was something that could never be replaced.

Piper left her side as they reached the bathroom door. It was a spacious room decorated in white tiles. She was just about to peel off her dirt laden shirt when she caught sight of her reflection.

Her dainty face looked out of place stained with dirt and sweat, resembling the likes of vain wealthy girls who thought themselves too proud to explore nature and climb trees, letting their beauty define them and their social class exclude them. She had been this skinny little girl without a care, who climbed trees and chased butterflies in the hopes of catching one with her bare hands. Her mother had laughed when she came home covered in grass stains with leaves in her hair, and still she had looked so very delicate. Staring into her almost foreign reflection, she caught a flicker of that young girl again.

More memories rose to the surface. She remembered how the other girls had whispered whenever she walked past, on rare occasions she would catch only words from their conversations: Unusual. Abnormal. Strange. Wicked. To them she was the strange girl who spent more time with her nose in a book than socializing with other girls her age. Then again, that was the seventeenth century. They feared everything.

A knock on the door brought her back to the real world. She was reluctant to open the door but upon opening it saw only Piper holding neatly folded yellow fabric in her hands.

"I thought you might need something to change into." She held out the fabric for her to take, which Ava now realised was a sundress, and smiled. "It's one of my sister's, so it should fit."

"Thank you." Ava said in a meek voice, part of her suspicious of why she was being so nice to her, a stranger. Piper nodded in response, closing the door once again.

~.~.~

Piper stood by the dresser in her bedroom. A small glass jewellery box with its lid hung open revealing its glistening contents of silver and gold. Between her fingers, Piper held a gold necklace carved with italic letters spelling: Prue. She and Phoebe had kept a few of their big sister's possessions, not bearing to part with them, and Piper had kept this particular item close to her, tucked away within her own jewellery. She would hold it now and then remembering when her sister had worn it and warm memories would flood back to her, feeling somehow closer to her spirit. She sighed heavy heartily and placed it back safely inside the box.

"Everything okay?" Leo was leaning against the doorframe. She assumed he had come to see Wyatt, who was sleeping peacefully in his crib.

"Yeah," she pressed her lips together in a forceful smile. "It's just that girl..."

"You think there's something that she's not telling us?"

"I don't know, maybe. It's just something she said when she first came here, about Prue." Piper sat on the end of her bed as Leo came to sit next to her. "I just assumed she was looking for magical help, but what if she wasn't? There's something about her. I want to find out how she knew Prue, how she was able to find our house."

"Well, the other Elders don't seem to know much about her either. They just knew that a young girl had appeared on their radar, out of nowhere."

"And she's a witch?"

"They seem to think so, yes. Or at least part-witch."

"I want to help her Leo. I know that she's Chris's responsibility now, but I can't just let this go."

Leo nodded, understanding all too well the goodness in her heart pushing her to help people would outweigh his vendetta against Chris. It was, after all, why he fell in love with her. "You wouldn't be the Piper I know if you didn't try." Was all he said before orbing away, leaving Piper with a strange knot in her stomach.

~.~.~

Streams of hot water at the push of a button felt too good to be real. The development of showers was a luxury that made Ava immensely grateful for modern technology. Soap on her skin, water running through her hair, soon all evidence of the past day was washed down the drain.

When she finally stepped out into the foggy room, dauntingly, the dress was waiting for her on the counter top by the sink. She wasn't exactly the type of girl who wore dresses. Then again she wasn't exactly sure what type of girl she was, so she apprehensively slipped it on. She rubbed the steam from the mirror to reveal a reflection she almost didn't recognise. The hideous bruises along her arms and scrapes scattered along her face had disappeared completely, showing no trace of ever being in battle.

She saw herself the way a stranger would, in some strange way, different. She had her father's strong jaw and her mother's big eyes and small mouth, looking every bit the sweet, delicate young girl. It seemed she couldn't shake that look of being so delicate and fragile, like she would shatter if anybody touched her. Nobody ever expected her to be capable of defending herself or causing mischief. It was irritating to be so continuously underestimated. Although there were times when she was grateful for having this harmless appeal to her because being underestimated was at times quite useful.

People used to tell her that she resembled her father. Personally, she didn't particularly see it but her mother would often remark that she had his pale grey eyes, his dirty blonde hair and, apparently, his laugh.

She hadn't thought about her parents in a long time. She hadn't allowed herself to dwell on such memories. It hurt too much and reminded her of the last time she had seen her mother.

She really had tried to forget. She tried to make the screaming stop and leave the horror behind. That night, the screams. The desperate, helpless sound of their agonizing screams. No. No, she would not think about it. There was a pain that followed that memory, like shards of glass ripping her chest to pieces. She locked it away, pushed it down, buried the memory so deep she hoped to never feel it again.

She turned to kneel down to where her clothes were folded on the floor. On top of them lay the pocket watch that she had been clinging on to. She strung it back around her neck where it belonged, letting it fall to just past her chest. She traced the swirls and strokes on its closed case with her fingertips. Her mother had worn an identical one, handcrafted from shimmering gold, decorated with grace and beauty.

Green Eyes –Chris— had been eyeing it earlier. If she was lucky, maybe he would just pass it off as a regular piece of jewellery. Maybe he wouldn't think to ask about it.

They had jumped to conclusions when they assumed that Ava was a witch, but the truth was that they weren't exactly wrong. Her people had access to power. An old, forgotten magic from their witch heritage, but the true root of their power lied in their ability to time jump. It was because of this power that Ava assumed that she and people like her were hunted, and why they chose to stay hidden, usually among mortals.

Her reflection looked back at her wide eyed as she took in the sight of herself in the sundress, little blue daisies sprinkled along the lemon yellow pattern. It hung just a little too loose on her willowy frame. Ava wondered if perhaps she could wear her old clothes. But they were in tatters and stained with blood and dirt. She gently tugged on the hem, as if hoping it would somehow grow to cover more of her.

Ava stared at the girl in the glass as if she had all the answers, as if she could tell why she was still alive but her parents –her mother with greater knowledge and greater power—was not. It wasn't fair. She didn't know half of the things her mother had known about the craft. Crystal tricks could only go so far and the old magic rattling around in her head wasn't enough to keep her safe for much longer. She needed to learn more. Maybe having somebody to help wouldn't be such a bad thing. Chris had certainly seemed eager to help her, a little too eager. She could sense that he had hidden agendas and that made her wary of him. Trust was not something she gave out lightly, it had to be earned. But Piper appeared to trust him and that was enough, for now.

Pressing her palms against the edge of the counter top, she inhaled a slow, deep breath, preparing herself to face the others downstairs.

She was half way down the stairs when she heard voices. Intruders? No, she reminded herself. This was what a home was supposed to sound seemed to come naturally to her now to assume the worst. She recognised Piper's voice but not the other, a woman speaking in an irritated tone. "—what do we even know about her?" The voice grew closer.

"She's an innocent, Paige. If we don't help her, who will?"

"Isn't she Chris's responsibility now and..." The voice trailed off as a woman with strawberry blonde hair emerged from another room. Her dark eyes locked on Ava who was cautiously stepping off the final step. "And she's wearing my dress."

Ava glanced down at the sundress that was barely covering her, insecurity surging through her as she tugged on the hem again. "I'm sorry, I was told—"

"No, it's fine." The woman shook her head, "It looks better on you anyway." She smiled politely. Some small part of Ava wanted to curtsey or offer her hand, some eighteenth century etiquette still rattling around inside her head. But she suffocated that urge. Instead, she forced herself to smile.

"I'm Paige, by the way."

"A sister of mine." Piper clarified from her sister's side. Another sister, another name beginning with P. "And you are?" Paige asked curiously.

"Ava. My name is Ava."

"It's nice to meet you, Ava."

A figure came into view from behind the sisters. Leaning against the doorframe stood Chris, staying firmly out of the conversation. She could feel his eyes burning her exposed skin. Ava looked away quickly, tugging on the hem of the dress again.

"So what do you know about this demon that attacked you? How exactly does a demon poison somebody?" Paige asked in a ramble. Piper nudged her with her elbow and shot her a look. "What? I'm interested."

"There'll be plenty of time for questions later, but right now could you guys give us some time alone?" Piper asked.

Paige stared at her blankly for a moment. "Oh, you meant us!" She said, gesturing to Chris and herself, realisation washing over her face. "Sorry. Force of habit." Paige lowered her voice, her smile almost a smirk, "Are you sure? I heard she pulled a real number on Chris."

Chris looked disapproving but nobody seemed to notice. "We'll be just fine." Piper replied. Reluctantly, they left. Paige had smiled as she walked away and Chris had looked to the ground with his hands shoved in his pockets. It was just Piper and Ava now, and Piper had a sparkle in her eyes like she had something important on her mind.

"Are you hungry?" Truthfully, Ava couldn't recall the last time she had eaten. There wasn't exactly time to stop to eat when running for your life. Piper assumed by the look on her face that her answer would have been yes.

Piper placed a hand on her back and guided her inside the living room. Ava knew that questions would soon be coming her way and knew that she really shouldn't answer them. If she wanted to keep them out of harm's way then there was only one sensible answer.

She had to lie to her.

A/N: Is this story making sense? I feel like it's rushed but I'm trying to explain everything for future chapters. Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review, favourite and follow this story. I love hearing from you.