Sitting in the chair he used to occupy when he still considered himself a good father to his girls, Victor Bennett stared vacantly at the living room floor, where they once unwrapped Christmas gifts together as a family. Finally on good terms with his daughters, and back in the house they had shared so long ago, he somehow felt further from them than ever.
His girls had "a destiny to fulfill", that's what their grandmother had always maintained, something that he couldn’t change, no matter how much he wanted to. That was why he had allowed her to cut him out of their lives. His girls were special. He had always known that, but it wasn’t because they could do magic.
Despite all the loss they had experienced, they were loving, caring, smart, beautiful young women. But now one of them was gone, his youngest daughter, Phoebe, the one who had fought to bring him back into their lives, and he wondered whether this loss might be too much for her sisters to bear.
Far too soon, Phoebe had been taken by evil, just like her mother before her, his wife, Patty. And once again, he had been powerless to stop it. All he could really do for Prue and Piper was to be strong for them today, be there for them when they needed him...if they needed him. Was it too late to act like a father now? Without Phoebe, would they let him?
Victor shook his grey head, absent-mindedly brushing a piece of lint from his new pants. He had prayed the day would never come when he would have to buy a black suit to wear at the funeral of one of his girls. Now, here he was, waiting to leave for the cemetery. Waiting alone, he noted.
Piper was still upstairs, getting ready, or so Leo said. As for Prue? Well, she was God knows where, doing God knows wha—“Argh!” Victor cried.
“Victor?” called Leo, entering the room at a jog.
As if responding to the man’s thought, a leather clad Prue had appeared before her father, rippling out of thin air, holding Cole’s hand, which she immediately yanked from his grip. “I still think we could have taken them!” she yelled.
“There were too many,” Cole argued, his tone ringing with impatience.
“Maybe for the mighty Belthazor, but I can handle myself, thank you very much. I’m not giving up. The plan worked once. It can work again.”
“Look who's back,” sighed Leo. “We were afraid you weren't going to make it in time.”
“Dad, hi,” said Prue in a considerably softer tone, finally acknowledging that there were other people present, and leaning down to hug her father.
“Is everything okay?” Victor asked, getting to his feet, looking confused and a little shaken. “You about gave me a heart attack. And what are you wearing?”
"Everything's fine, Dad. Don't worry, I’m going to change, and of course we made it, Leo.”
“Well, I can't make it,” said Cole. “Or shouldn't. The Source has marked me as a traitor. He’s got every demonic bounty hunter out there looking for me, and I don't want them finding me at Phoebe's funeral.”
“God, you’re so dramatic,” Prue jabbed, rolling her eyes. “If anything, Zotars will be avoiding you now that they know why we’ve been hunting them, and isn’t it supposed to be harder to track a demon in a cemetery? Besides, we can protect you if it comes to that.”
“You can't protect me,” Cole said with a noiseless chuckle.
“Excuse me? We're still witches, Cole.”
“Yeah, but you're not the Charmed Ones anymore.”
“Did you not see what I did to the last guy who said that to me?”
“He's right, Prue,” Leo interjected as the doorbell sounded, calling a halt to their metaphorical boxing match. “Without the Power of Three…”
Prue folded her arms defensively and bit her lip while breathing in deeply. "Phoebe would want you there, Cole,” she said with some reluctance. “Freeing you was one of her last acts.”
Cole looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded in silent agreement, his bottom lip quivering before he turned away.
The sisters’ friend, Inspector Darryl Morris, was led into the house by Victor. “Hey, how are you holdin' up? And what are you wearing?” he asked.
“Fine,” said Prue, unknowingly callous. “But as you’ve pointed out, I need to change, so what’s up?”
“Thanks for coming by, Darryl,” said Leo sincerely.
Darryl gave a sympathetic nod, and explained, “Had to. Besides, I thought you should know, they're assigning Phoebe's case to another inspector.”
“What case?” Leo asked.
“Yeah,” Prue concurred.
“What case? Are you kidding?” Darryl exclaimed. “Phoebe and a prominent doctor were killed here, Leo. Made a lot of press. People want answers. Important people.”
“So, what's this guy gonna find? That it was a demonic hitman? Gimme a break,” said Cole derisively.
“He might,” said Darryl. “Look, you don't know him like I do. He'll keep looking until he finds something, believe me.”
“I'm not worried,” Cole jested.
“Well, I am,” said Leo. “We still don’t fully understand what happened when the girls were exposed as witches, but it put all three of them at risk. Time may have been reversed, but what happened that day still cost Phoebe her life.”
“Would you people mind?” Victor roared, startling everyone. “For God's sake, we're burying my daughter today. Can't this wait?”
Prue moved over to hug her father, who seemed like he was barely holding it together. "I'm sorry, Dad. You're right," she said, then put her fingers to her throat. "Could you run me a glass of water while I change? I guess I shouldn't be surprised, but the Underworld is kind of dry, you know."
***
Up in her bedroom, away from whatever drama was unfolding below, Piper was sat in front of her vanity mirror, absentmindedly brushing her hair while lost in thought. She vaguely wondered what Phoebe was up to right now. Was she floating around on a cloud somewhere? Hanging out with Mom and Grams, perhaps? Was she happy now, free of the burden of their crazy lives? What was it even like there?
Piper didn’t know, of course, because besides refusing to come back to life, no matter what magic they tried, Phoebe hadn’t answered any of their attempts to summon her spirit. It was maddening, and now they were supposed to say goodbye without knowing for sure whether they could have done more to help her.
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“Piper?” Prue called, easing open the bedroom door. Piper didn't react. She just continued with her brushing, so Prue entered. “Sweetie?”
"Oh, Prue. Nice of you to show," said Piper passive-aggressively, eyeing Prue's leather ensemble in the mirror. "I see you've dressed up for the occasion.”
“Yeah, well, it’s black," Prue replied with a sheepish grin, garnering no reaction from her sister. "Come on, Piper, I'm kidding. I’m about to change. I just wanted to see if you were almost ready to go.”
Technically, she was finished getting ready; her hair was done, she was dressed in a nice but simple black shift that she would wear her suit jacket over, but that didn’t mean Piper was actually ready to leave. “I don't want to go,” she said.
“What? Why?” Prue asked distractedly as she unfolded a map of San Francisco on Piper’s duvet. She then dangled a crystal on a silver chain over it and began Scrying for Shax’s location yet again.
Piper shook her head in disbelief as she watched, what might have been a tender moment ruined. “Your mission didn’t go well, then?”
“It did…until Cole chickened out on me,” Prue started, then remembered herself, turning her head to Piper as she Scryed. “But I don’t want to talk about that. Tell me why you don’t want to go.”
Piper didn’t answer. She just resumed brushing her hair, more aggressively than before.
Prue seemed to get the message. She dropped her Scrying crystal and knelt beside her sister, “I’m listening, Piper. Tell me.”
“Because…” Piper replied weakly, pausing for breath. “If I go, that'll mean that Phoebe's really not coming back, and I don't think I can handle that.”
“We can handle it, Piper. The way we always do. Together,” said Prue, affectionately squeezing her sister’s knee and shoulder, “Then, together, we’ll make the Source pay for what he did.”
“Oh, God,” Piper groaned, loudly slamming her hairbrush down on the vanity table, and getting to her feet while shaking her head. “You’re obsessed!”
“Obsessed?” Prue blanched. “Obsessed with what, avenging our sister? Making sure we’re safe?”
“The Source doesn’t care about us!” Piper guffawed. “He got what he wanted, he got rid of the Power of Three. We’re no threat to him anymore, and I couldn’t care less. I don’t want to make him pay, I don’t want to join your little crusade, I don’t want to fight anymore! I just want Phoebe back!”
At these last words, Piper buried her face in her hands and broke into tears. Seeing her break down, Prue said nothing in response. She simply held her sister.
***
The Source of All Evil stepped out of flame and into one of the many private chambers he inhabited as ruler of the Underworld. Here, he often consulted with one of his more valuable assets, a somewhat gifted oracle, whose information had proven useful on occasion, even if she lacked the proper respect.
“May I be seen?” asked a sultry female voice, emanating from the direction of an eerily lit white marble table. Above it, a distortion in the air was visible to the naked eye.
His body swathed in heavy black robes, his face hidden beneath a low-hanging hood, the Source asked impatiently, “Have you found Belthazor?”
“No, something else,” the voice replied.
The Source considered this for a moment, then with a rasping breath and a point of a clawed hand toward the distortion, lifted the veil concealing his follower.
A scantily clad brunette materialized, lying languidly across the table. “Something more important, perhaps,” she responded, stroking a crystal ball.
“An example must be made of that traitor, and soon. Nothing is more important,” snapped the Source.
“Not even the Charmed Ones?” The Oracle drawled.
“The Charmed Ones are dead.”
“Not all of them.”
“One gone ends the threat of the Power of Three,” the Source insisted. “Of course, if you had foreseen the witch’s vision or Belthazor’s escape, they’d all be gone. Be grateful I don't turn you into a snake.”
“Yes, but the future is never certain when more than one seer is involved, and how would you hope to navigate it without me?” the Oracle taunted.
“Without the Charmed Ones to worry about anymore, I may not need to.”
“Mmm. Well, in that case, you'd better keep me around a little while longer.”
The Source turned back to the Oracle, intrigued by her cryptic words. “What do you see?”
The woman waved her hands over her crystal ball, which proceeded to cloud over as she stared into it. Her voice became more serious as she relayed her findings, “I see…a witch's call on the spirit winds. I see...another.”
***
As beautiful as the funeral ceremony being performed by the white-garbed Wiccan priestess was, Piper had a hard time focusing on it, knowing that her sister’s body was just a few feet away, lying inside the ivory-colored coffin that sat on the raised pedestal.
She was pleased that all the planning she had done—with no help from Prue—had come to fruition. She thought Phoebe would have liked it. The venue was packed with mourners, the flowers were tasteful, and the funeral program bore the symbol of the triquetra, their symbol, and read:
PHOEBE HALLIWELL, 1975-2001
Forever in our Hearts.
Leo gave Piper’s hand a gentle squeeze, apparently alerting her to the priestess, who seemed to be wrapping things up. This was it. They were about to say goodbye.
“That which belongs to fellowship and love, that which belongs to the circle, remains with us. The wheel turns. As life is a day, so our sister has passed into night. Nothing is final, and we who remain behind know that one day, we will once again share the bread and wine with our sister. O' blessed spirit, we bid you farewell, for you await a new destiny.”
With that, the priestess untied a silver cord and gently laid it into a chalice. She then blew out three white candles one by one. At this, Piper cried into Leo’s shoulder.
Prue, who wore a black Armani dress of hers that somehow always managed to find its way into Phoebe’s closet, hadn’t cried yet. She hadn’t let herself, barring a few errant tears, which she quickly wiped away. Holding them back now was especially taxing, the effort clear on her face, and on her father's.
“I’m going to miss having full use of that hand,” Victor told her with a small smile.
Prue immediately relinquished her grip, murmured a quick word of apology, and took a deep, steadying breath before standing. She began hugging each of the family, then Darryl, and even spared a pat on the back for Cole, whose face was blank and ghostly pale.
People began lining up to pay their respects, but Piper didn’t seem too able, so Prue took the lead, thanking each of the mourners in turn, shaking their hands and exchanging kind words. One of the final mourners was a young woman, who had been looking over her shoulder toward the door. She wasn’t really dressed for a funeral, a cream jacket over a denim skirt. There was something familiar about her, but Prue couldn’t place her.
“I'm so sorry for your loss,” said Paige Matthews, sincerity in her dark eyes.
“Thank you,” Prue replied, shaking hands, and holding on a little longer than necessary as she scrutinized the girl’s face. “Have we met before?”
“No, I don't... I don't think so.”
“How did you know Phoebe?”
“Oh, just... Just from around, you know,” Paige answered, feeling foolish.
“You were friends?” Prue probed.
“More acquaintances, I guess. I just felt…like I should be here. Anyway, my condolences.”
“Thanks,” said Prue, her eyes following Paige as she left the chapel, the doors closing behind her. “Piper, do we know that girl?”
“What girl?” Piper said, blowing her nose into a tissue.
Prue huffed, “The one I was just spea—DEMONS!”
Two bounty hunters had suddenly materialized with a glimmering sheen on either side of Cole and immediately fired Lightning Bolts at him. He reacted in time to dive, just barely avoiding the bolts, which blew up the Wiccan altar.
Piper looked appalled as Leo pulled her and a shocked-looking Victor behind a pillar for safety.
As Prue sent one of them flying with a swing of her arm, scattering rows of wooden folding chairs in the process, Cole rolled and came up firing one of his pulsating blue Energy Balls, vanquishing the second in a burst of flame and sparks. However, a third appeared in its place. Before it could shoot Cole, however, Prue, who had hidden herself behind a pillar, Astral Projected behind it, and smacked it in the back of the head with a chair. “I want one alive!” she ordered.
“Are you nuts? Now is not the time, Prue,” Cole snarled, shooting the fallen bounty hunter.
“I said no!”
“Stop it,” pleaded Piper to no avail.
The final bounty hunter spotted Prue’s physical body, which was defenseless while she remained in astral mode, arguing with Cole. Thankfully, Cole spotted this and released a third and final Energy Ball, which incinerated its target just as they were taking aim.
“Stop it! Stop it! Stop it, damn it!” Piper unleashed. “This is Phoebe's funeral, for God's sake! Can't we at least bury her in peace?! Is that too much to ask?!”
The others watched in stunned silence as she stormed out of the chapel in tears, knocking over a vase of flowers on her way.