By unspoken consent, Leo and the Halliwell sisters each gave the other a wide berth for the rest of the afternoon. Leo spent his time single-mindedly concerning himself with household repairs, and nothing else. Lunch was an awkwardly muted affair, with discussion limited to small talk that couldn't possibly raise any more issues - despite the fact that everyone wanted to talk about anything other than what they actually talked about. But no one wanted to experience more of a backlash from the truth spell than they already had.

Fortunately, the faulty wiring legitimately required Leo's full attention, and it was late in the afternoon before the job was done. Leo departed with the promise to return again in two days time - and to spend the whole of his next visit answering any questions the sisters might want to ask, about magic or demons or anything else. But as Leo left the manor, he sighed with undisguised relief. He had revealed far more of himself this day than he'd ever intended - and was grateful that the damage wasn't much worse.

After putting his tools away in the truck, he drove up the street half a block, and as before, parked across from the nondescript sedan where Inspector Darryl Morris was keeping a watchful eye on the street. The detective waved at Leo to join him in the car. Leo entered on the passenger side and gave his friend a rueful smile as he settled into the seat.

"It went that well today, did it?" Darryl asked.

"You really don't want to know," Leo assured him. "Did you find out anything about Paige's father?"

"Maybe. Nothing conclusive, but we now have a person of interest, at least."

Darryl reached behind his seat, and pulled a small file from an accordion folder. He shook out a photograph and handed it to Leo. It was a picture of a man with a weatherbeaten face, an unkempt beard, with deep darkened circles under the eyes. The man's hair and beard were liberally whitened, and he was wearing a tattered flannel work shirt, jeans and boots. The picture was not a portrait - it was taken from a distance, and slightly out of focus; apparently it had been taken from a security camera.

"Recognize him?" Darryl asked hopefully.

Leo shook his head. "Never seen him before."

"His name is Sam Wilder. Does that ring any bells?"

Leo shook his head again. "What's his connection to Paige?"

"I paid a visit to the church where the Matthews girl was given up for adoption. I showed this picture to the nuns, and they positively identified him as the man who brought in the baby twenty four years ago."

"So this man is Paige's father."

"Maybe. Twenty four years is a long time to go for an eyewitness identification," Darryl cautioned. "But there's more. A woman was with Wilder in the church that night. Just on the off chance, I took a drivers' license photo of Patricia Halliwell with me. The nuns gave positive ID on her, too."

Leo sat back in the car seat, stunned.

"The nuns said that the couple came in that night, very distraught, begging them to take the child for her own safety," Darryl continued. "From the description, they sounded very much like a heartbroken mother and father giving up their child. They wouldn't say why they thought the child was in danger, and they left without warning, forcing the nuns to keep her, at least until social services could be contacted for adoption placement," Darryl continued. "The couple also refused to identify themselves, other than to admit they were the parents."

"So, Sam Wilder and Patricia Halliwell are Paige's mother and father."

"It's possible, but we still have to prove it somehow."

"Any information on Wilder?"

"Nothing recent. Wilder has no record with the city or county - no drivers' license, no tax returns, no rental agreements, no home or business ownership records - but I found a birth certificate." He let that statement hang in the air.

"And?" Leo prompted.

"And it was issued one hundred and twenty-five years ago."

"What?!" Leo stared at the detective incredulously.

"Hey, you were the one suggesting that Paige Matthews had a White Lighter for a father," Darryl pointed out. "If this turns out to be right, then I'd say that's pretty solid evidence."

"Damn," Leo swore softly.

"That's not all. Guess where this photo was taken." Darryl stabbed a finger at Wilder's blurred face. There was almost nothing in the background in focus that Leo could make out. He shrugged helplessly. "Surprise me."

"This photo," Darryl said impressively, "Was taken up at the lake. Near the docks where several of the drownings took place. Including Patricia and Prudence Halliwell."

The two men's eyes met.

"So, he's not only Paige's father, he has something to do with the demon," Leo said grimly.

"Leo, please, leave the detective stuff to me. You keep leaping to the island of conclusions without any evidence."

"You're right, you're right," Leo admitted with a heavy sigh.

"Doesn't matter what we think. Only what we can prove. However," he conceded, "I am taking this as a - working hypothesis," he said carefully. "We have circumstantial evidence this man is Paige Matthews' birth father. And if he's still spending any time up at the lake, we'll have an officer posted, to bring him in for questioning."

"Nice work," Leo smiled. "Thanks, Darryl."

"The only problem is, if Wilder really is a White Lighter, I don't know how we can keep from doing that flashing light thing, if he doesn't want to answer any questions."

"Orbing, Darryl. I keep telling you, the term is 'orbing'."

"Whatever. Our patrol officers aren't going to be able to chase after a guy who can disappear into a cloud of little white lights. Anyway, you should at least be able to go to your bosses with this, and see if Wilder really is one of yours."

"Yeah," Leo admitted reluctantly. "I have to be careful, though. I don't want to disclose why I'm asking."

"Why is this a problem?" Darryl asked. "It's not like you're the White Lighter who was shacking up with the witch." His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

Leo shifted his weight uncomfortably in the car seat. "The sisters know about me," he confessed finally. "Not just about my being a White Lighter. They know about my previous life."

"What?" Darryl grimaced. "Wyatt, have you lost your mind?"

"They cast a spell of truth on me," Leo protested. "It's not like I had any choice."

"Man, what is wrong with you? Are you trying to get us both fired?" Darryl was still piqued. "You've had your head up your backside ever since you met the Halliwell sisters. You've been dealing with witches longer than I've been alive! How can you mess up like that? Getting caught by a truth spell isn't even a rookie mistake! Seriously, man, what makes these witches so different from any of the others you've guarded?"

"I'm sure I don't know," Leo sighed heavily, grateful that away from the manor, he could freely tell a lie.

"Well, I'll tell you what, partner," Darryl grumbled angrily. "You need to get your head in the game. And you need to do it fast. The last thing I need is any trouble from your bosses. I have enough trouble with mine."

"Understood," Leo answered meekly, shrinking back into his seat.

It was nearly two in the morning, and Piper had been tossing restlessly all night. Finally, conceding that sleep wasn't coming any time soon, she sat up in bed with a resigned sigh, and put on the light. The lamp on her nightstand cast a soft glow all around the room.

Over the last few days, Piper had started to put more and more of her own belongings into her grandmother's bedroom, and the space was starting to reflect Piper's own personality and taste. But most of the furniture in the room still belonged to her grandmother, and Piper still had a sense of the old woman's presence everywhere she looked. It was not a haunting sensation. It was almost comforting. But Piper knew she would feel most comfortable when she finally considered the room her very own.

"You own the damn house now," she reminded herself in a low voice. "So stop pretending it belongs to somebody else."

In truth, Piper's restlessness had little to do with her grandmother, and it was almost a relief to find herself distracted from her grief by some other concern. She was thinking of Leo. She knew so little about him, and wanted to know more. But each new thing she learned about the young man - who apparently wasn't so young after all - left Piper feeling more puzzled, more confused.

She liked him. She wanted to trust him, and had more or less decided to make that leap of faith. And he apparently liked her too. No, it was more than that. There was a genuine spark of desire between them. Which puzzled Piper all the more. Leo was eighty years old, and a widower. But he had the appearance of a much younger man, someone barely into his twenties. Which was the real Leo? Was it somehow possible that both were the real man? Was he someone who had lived an entire lifetime contentedly with another woman - and yet could still be a younger man expressing interest in her? The more Piper thought about it, the more confused she got - and realized she was giving herself a headache.

Leo's interest in her was sincere. Of that, Piper was sure. And Paige had assured her that Leo intended no harm to Piper or her sisters. And this whole business about Leo being a White Lighter - she barely understood what that meant, what his guardianship entailed, or what that foreshadowed for any personal relationship they might embark upon. Leo had been free and generous in providing answers to any of Piper's questions - even without the constraint of the truth spell - and none of those answers made the picture any clearer.

Sighing again, Piper fluffed her pillows, pushed them up against the headboard, and leaned back against them. She liked Leo. A lot. He had a shy, awkward smile that somehow made her heart melt. And she sensed a quiet strength in him, a protective quality that went beyond his 'job' of protecting a coven of witches. He was a gentle man, and yes, he was beautiful; Piper bit her lower lip in idle lust, admitting to herself she found him attractive. But what tugged at her suspicions was the awareness that she had very little idea of who the real Leo was. And she suspected there was far more to him, something even beyond a lifetime of experience of which she had no inkling. Who was Leo Wyatt?

Piper grinned ruefully to herself. The truth spell had backfired spectacularly. She had spent the entire day getting nothing but honest answers - and was no more enlightened with that knowledge than she'd been in her ignorance. She'd gotten everything she thought she wanted - only to find it wasn't what she needed at all. The wisdom she sought, the understanding, was still just tantalizingly out of reach.

Piper tried to distract herself by recalling what Leo had told her about the demon in the lake, but she had neither the heart or the mindfulness to tackle that subject now. Demons were real. Leo had warned her, quite strongly, not to meet her first demon too soon. With a slight shiver, Piper realized she agreed wholeheartedly with that advice. Yes, she wanted to avenge her mother and her sister. But everything in this world of magic was so new and so strange to her - she had no idea what was good or what was evil - she was having a hard enough time deciding what was even real. What, then, could she rely upon?

As soon as she asked herself the question, Piper knew the answer. Her touchstones were her sisters, Phoebe and Paige. They were real enough, and they needed her. And Piper had to admit to herself, even without the truth spell: she needed them, too. Everything else would have to follow from family. Leo had promised to light her way - and Piper was only beginning to realize how badly she needed a lantern.

Piper wasn't the only Halliwell sister who was sleeping fitfully that night. Phoebe had tossed and turned for several hours, haunted by demons of her own; they finally chased her from her bed, and she padded downstairs in a mixture of irritation and unease, settling finally in the atrium. A framed photo of Penny Halliwell sat on the low table, and Phoebe picked it up, staring hard at face in the picture. Huge, heavy tears began to well in her eyes. She was startled as she heard a soft noise behind her, and turned to see her baby sister Paige coming into the room, adjusting the wrap on her terrycloth bathrobe, her eyes still nearly swollen shut with sleep.

"Honey, it's two in the morning," Paige protested, her breathy voice lowered by almost an octave by disturbed slumber.

"Was I making a lot of noise?" Phoebe asked anxiously.

"No," Paige said, yawning expansively. "But you have an empath for a sister, remember? I could feel you were in pain."

"Paige, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay." She settled onto the couch next to her sister. "What's bothering you?"

Phoebe stared again at the picture of her grandmother, and fresh tears began to flow.

"I should have come home sooner," she said brokenly. "I should have seen Grams while she was still alive - I should have…"

"Hush," Paige murmured, kissing Phoebe's cheek. "You're home now. You're here with us. That's all that matters."

Phoebe turned her head slightly to look at her sister. "Paige... I've done some terrible things," she moaned in dismay.

Paige nodded solemnly. "I know."

"You do?" Phoebe seemed close to panic.

"I don't know what you've done," Paige disclaimed quickly. "I just know you're bothered by it. But you're not alone any more, Phoebe. We'll figure something out. We'll find some way to fix it."

Phoebe began to cry softly, and Paige held her tightly, allowing Phoebe's unendurable grief to pass between them. Phoebe's entire body shuddered as one choked sob after another forced its way to the surface. Several minutes passed as Phoebe's anguish slowly expelled itself. Paige said nothing, letting her embrace comfort where words could not. Finally, Phoebe's sobs quieted, and Paige kissed her sister again, hugging her even more tightly. A light went on in the kitchen.

"What's…" Phoebe started to say, but Paige shushed her.

"It's okay," she murmured softly. "Piper's up. She's going to make us some cocoa."

"I woke everyone," Phoebe sighed in dismay.

"She was already awake. She's been thinking about Leo."

They sat together, listening to the intermittent noise coming from the kitchen: the clink of a saucepan on the stove burner, the measured, rhythmic scraping of a stirring whisk, the soft bubbling of boiling milk. The aroma of melting chocolate and burning cinnamon began to waft into the room.

A few minutes later, Piper came into the kitchen, carrying a tray with three mugs. Like Paige, her hair was tousled and her eyes barely open; she had a well worn bathrobe and slippers over her nightgown. She set the tray down on the low table in front of them, and gently pushed her way onto the other end of the couch, next to Phoebe. Paige released her sister so that Phoebe could now be embraced by Piper.

Piper regarded Phoebe with a twinge of sympathetic pain. Here was her younger sister, tears streaming down her cheeks, feeling as lost and alone as she'd ever felt. As Piper herself had felt for months, staring at her own careworn reflection in her bedroom mirror, in the long, empty days after her grandmother died. Now was not a time for recriminations or bitterness. All that was needed was forgiveness. And as Piper pulled her sister close to her, she felt her heart flooded with it.

"Piper - I…"

"Ssh." Piper put a finger to her sister's lips. No explanations or apologies were necessary. Not this night. As Paige had done, Piper left a maternal kiss on her sister's cheek.

"I'm so glad you're home," she said simply, holding her tight. Paige settled herself against Phoebe on the other side, sandwiching their sister between them. A few stray tears spilled down Phoebe's cheeks, but they were no longer tears of guilt or sorrow; now they were in gratitude for the miracle of forgiveness shown by her sisters, leaving her with a heartbreaking joy. There was someplace where she was not only wanted, she was needed. She had come home at last.

"I love you guys. You know that, right?"

"We love you too, Pheebs," Piper murmured.

"Now shut up and drink your cocoa," Paige added with a grin.

By unspoken consent, they all sat up, took their mugs of cocoa and sipped from them contentedly. The hot, sweet liquid warmed their bellies and soothed their agitated emotions. Phoebe sighed heavily, expelling the last of her anguish.

They finished their mugs, and settled back in on the couch again. Without realizing it, all three fell asleep as they cuddled together, and when the morning sun peeked in through the atrium windows several hours later, the Halliwell sisters were still there, entwined in each other's arms.

The Charmed Ones will return in 'Dark Water'.