THE MISTAKE
"Now, can we do something?" Cole cocked his head and whispered the question in Prue's ear.
"Oh yeah!" Without delay Prue put her words into action and marched off to get her horse. A heartbeat later she was galloping through the main street, hot on the trail of Sutter.
Cole didn't follow them. Sutter was defeated, and knew it. Besides, Prue was quite capable of looking after herself. She probably didn't want his help anyway.
He looked around and watched the barman cut the ropes on Bo's wrists. A happy Isabel rushed to put her arms around her brother; everyone's eyes were on the siblings. Except for one of Sutter's minions. The guy in the striped poncho used the distraction to sneak away without being noticed. Cole watched him go and smirked. He had a score to settle with this guy and the thug would provide what he craved: a way to let off steam, an outlet for all the pent-up emotions. Cole resented that he had been forced to sit still, unable to take any action. Do nothing, while Phoebe's life had been on the line! Yet he had known better than to go against Prue's wishes. If he ever hoped to gain her trust... She wasn't around, however; she was still occupied with Sutter.
The underling disappeared into the saloon. The place would be deserted; the townsfolk all milled about on the street. Cole left their excited voices behind as he tagged after the ponchoed fellow. He chuckled: this was going to be fun. The man had dared challenge him and Cole had never been one to back down from a fight. Moreover, this was one of the bastards who nearly cost him Phoebe. Yes, he would make him pay dearly for his mistake.
Just because he could, Cole fired off the ancient gun. The bullet's whistle was loud in the silent bar and the crook spun on his heels. Cole ducked behind an overturned table. He pulled the trigger once more and let the hammer tink against an empty chamber.
His opponent's beady eyes began to glimmer. "Looks like ya outta bullets," he smirked.
Cole struggled to keep a straight face while he climbed back to his feet. He hadn't had this much fun in a long time. He prepared an energy bolt and let it hover beyond sight. Not yet. To all outward appearances, he looked resigned. In reality he was as taut as a strung bow.
The act, however, fooled the hoodlum and he thought Cole an easy target. "I'm gonna enjoy this. See you in Hell."
"Been there. Done that," Cole muttered and waited.
His patience was rewarded when at last the thug moved and drew his gun. He was quick on the draw, but not quick enough. Before the gun was halfway up, Cole snatched the power bolt and flung it at the crook. It hit him dead on. The man burst into flames; his poncho burned bright orange. Cole's mouth twisted as his victim's death scream rose and the fire roared. He shook with laughter. He'd teach 'm to mess with him! Or with Phoebe.
Still laughing, he turned to leave and find Prue so they could shimmer home. He didn't have to look far. She was standing in the doorway to the saloon and observed the scene in silence. Her face didn't betray her thoughts. However, the cold look in her dark eyes did. The laughter died on Cole's lips.
"Like I said: once a demon, always a demon." Prue gave him a last, fixed stare before she turned and walked out of the saloon.
Cole slapped his hat against his thigh in frustration. Any exhilaration he had felt over obliterating the hoodlum was gone. Damn. The instant he saw Prue, Cole knew he had committed an error. A grave mistake. He had lost any goodwill that his help today might have gained him, when he gave in to the dark tendencies that still lurked inside. He had promised not to use his demonic powers again. And he had broken that promise.
He pushed back the double doors and strode out. Prue was marching down the street, heading for the shed where they had hidden their clothing. "Prue!" Cole called. She didn't pay him any mind. Instead, she continued walking. He trotted to catch up with her.
"Prue, please, let me explain," he said.
She stopped and looked up to meet his gaze. The cold look was still in her eyes and she raised one eyebrow. "What's to explain? What I saw, was pretty obvious."
"I'm sorry. It was a mistake."
"Tell that to the man you just burned to a crisp." Her tone was as cold as her stare.
"I didn't think," Cole continued. A note of desperation crept into his voice. "Prue, it wasn't easy for me to sit still. All my life the only person I could count on was me. You wanted me change that, to put my trust in your judgement, in Bo's premonition. I did what you asked me. If you had been wrong, if nobody had stepped up to stop this Sutter, Phoebe would have died."
Prue's gaze softened a bit and her stance became less tense. Cole realized that it had been difficult to stand by for her also. It had been her sister's life at stake, after all. Encouraged, he continued.
"That joker," Cole gave a careless wave in the direction of the saloon where a thin whiff of smoke drifted from the doorway, "was part of it. Besides, he was about to kill me. He wouldn't have given it a second thought."
"That's why *they* are the bad guys," Prue said. "Cole, we're not here to exact revenge. You better remember that if you want to be good. And you didn't need to kill him: you could have shimmered."
Cole's eyes went round and his jaw dropped. "That... never occurred to me."
It was true. Not once had he considered using his power to shimmer as a defense. Worse, he had toyed with the thug, waited with gleeful anticipation for him to make a move. Prue had a point: he would have to learn to think different if he wanted to have a chance. "It won't happen again," he promised.
"Hmm," Prue muttered. She studied him through her lashes. "You bet it won't. I'll be watching you." With that, she started walking toward the shed again.
Cole stared at her back. Did that mean she was not going to vanquish him on sight the next time he visited the manor?
"Prue?" Cole called and she looked over her shoulder. "Please don't say anything to Phoebe."
"I won't," she said. "But I suggest you do."
Tell Phoebe? Cole swallowed. He knew Prue was right: no more secrets.
He sighed and followed her to the shed.
--END--
"Now, can we do something?" Cole cocked his head and whispered the question in Prue's ear.
"Oh yeah!" Without delay Prue put her words into action and marched off to get her horse. A heartbeat later she was galloping through the main street, hot on the trail of Sutter.
Cole didn't follow them. Sutter was defeated, and knew it. Besides, Prue was quite capable of looking after herself. She probably didn't want his help anyway.
He looked around and watched the barman cut the ropes on Bo's wrists. A happy Isabel rushed to put her arms around her brother; everyone's eyes were on the siblings. Except for one of Sutter's minions. The guy in the striped poncho used the distraction to sneak away without being noticed. Cole watched him go and smirked. He had a score to settle with this guy and the thug would provide what he craved: a way to let off steam, an outlet for all the pent-up emotions. Cole resented that he had been forced to sit still, unable to take any action. Do nothing, while Phoebe's life had been on the line! Yet he had known better than to go against Prue's wishes. If he ever hoped to gain her trust... She wasn't around, however; she was still occupied with Sutter.
The underling disappeared into the saloon. The place would be deserted; the townsfolk all milled about on the street. Cole left their excited voices behind as he tagged after the ponchoed fellow. He chuckled: this was going to be fun. The man had dared challenge him and Cole had never been one to back down from a fight. Moreover, this was one of the bastards who nearly cost him Phoebe. Yes, he would make him pay dearly for his mistake.
Just because he could, Cole fired off the ancient gun. The bullet's whistle was loud in the silent bar and the crook spun on his heels. Cole ducked behind an overturned table. He pulled the trigger once more and let the hammer tink against an empty chamber.
His opponent's beady eyes began to glimmer. "Looks like ya outta bullets," he smirked.
Cole struggled to keep a straight face while he climbed back to his feet. He hadn't had this much fun in a long time. He prepared an energy bolt and let it hover beyond sight. Not yet. To all outward appearances, he looked resigned. In reality he was as taut as a strung bow.
The act, however, fooled the hoodlum and he thought Cole an easy target. "I'm gonna enjoy this. See you in Hell."
"Been there. Done that," Cole muttered and waited.
His patience was rewarded when at last the thug moved and drew his gun. He was quick on the draw, but not quick enough. Before the gun was halfway up, Cole snatched the power bolt and flung it at the crook. It hit him dead on. The man burst into flames; his poncho burned bright orange. Cole's mouth twisted as his victim's death scream rose and the fire roared. He shook with laughter. He'd teach 'm to mess with him! Or with Phoebe.
Still laughing, he turned to leave and find Prue so they could shimmer home. He didn't have to look far. She was standing in the doorway to the saloon and observed the scene in silence. Her face didn't betray her thoughts. However, the cold look in her dark eyes did. The laughter died on Cole's lips.
"Like I said: once a demon, always a demon." Prue gave him a last, fixed stare before she turned and walked out of the saloon.
Cole slapped his hat against his thigh in frustration. Any exhilaration he had felt over obliterating the hoodlum was gone. Damn. The instant he saw Prue, Cole knew he had committed an error. A grave mistake. He had lost any goodwill that his help today might have gained him, when he gave in to the dark tendencies that still lurked inside. He had promised not to use his demonic powers again. And he had broken that promise.
He pushed back the double doors and strode out. Prue was marching down the street, heading for the shed where they had hidden their clothing. "Prue!" Cole called. She didn't pay him any mind. Instead, she continued walking. He trotted to catch up with her.
"Prue, please, let me explain," he said.
She stopped and looked up to meet his gaze. The cold look was still in her eyes and she raised one eyebrow. "What's to explain? What I saw, was pretty obvious."
"I'm sorry. It was a mistake."
"Tell that to the man you just burned to a crisp." Her tone was as cold as her stare.
"I didn't think," Cole continued. A note of desperation crept into his voice. "Prue, it wasn't easy for me to sit still. All my life the only person I could count on was me. You wanted me change that, to put my trust in your judgement, in Bo's premonition. I did what you asked me. If you had been wrong, if nobody had stepped up to stop this Sutter, Phoebe would have died."
Prue's gaze softened a bit and her stance became less tense. Cole realized that it had been difficult to stand by for her also. It had been her sister's life at stake, after all. Encouraged, he continued.
"That joker," Cole gave a careless wave in the direction of the saloon where a thin whiff of smoke drifted from the doorway, "was part of it. Besides, he was about to kill me. He wouldn't have given it a second thought."
"That's why *they* are the bad guys," Prue said. "Cole, we're not here to exact revenge. You better remember that if you want to be good. And you didn't need to kill him: you could have shimmered."
Cole's eyes went round and his jaw dropped. "That... never occurred to me."
It was true. Not once had he considered using his power to shimmer as a defense. Worse, he had toyed with the thug, waited with gleeful anticipation for him to make a move. Prue had a point: he would have to learn to think different if he wanted to have a chance. "It won't happen again," he promised.
"Hmm," Prue muttered. She studied him through her lashes. "You bet it won't. I'll be watching you." With that, she started walking toward the shed again.
Cole stared at her back. Did that mean she was not going to vanquish him on sight the next time he visited the manor?
"Prue?" Cole called and she looked over her shoulder. "Please don't say anything to Phoebe."
"I won't," she said. "But I suggest you do."
Tell Phoebe? Cole swallowed. He knew Prue was right: no more secrets.
He sighed and followed her to the shed.
--END--