“So, how's Aunt Julie? Yeah? Oh. Is her hip any better?” Paige enquired. She would normally have waited for her break to make a personal call at work, especially on a day when she had shown up late and had to change outfits in the bathroom, but recent events had made her dwell on her origins, even more than usual. So, she decided to contact her uncle, hoping he would be able to help tie up a loose end.

“Jake and Carol Grisanti for Mr. Cowan,” Paige couldn’t help hearing nearby. She looked up from her cubicle in the direction of the reception desk. It was them, the child abuser and his enabling wife, here for the placement hearing. Paige shook her head in disgust.

“Okay. I'll let him know you're here,” said the receptionist.

“I'm sorry. Say that again? I got distracted,” Paige told her uncle.

“He'll be with you in a few minutes," the receptionist informed them, and then the husband said something to his wife before heading for the bathroom.

Paige couldn’t believe they were probably taking their son, Aaron, home today, even with all the evidence against them. “Hey, before you go, Uncle Dave, can I ask you a question? Do you guys still go to that church Mom and Dad used to go to? Is there still a nun called Sister Agnes there?” she asked.

“Yeah, right. The one that found me. No, no, I haven't spoken to her before, but something's come up, and I think I should. Uh-huh,” said Paige distractedly, watching the couple heading for the meeting room with her boss. “Uh, Uncle Dave, I gotta go. I'll call you back, okay? Yeah, I love you too.”

“Mr. Cowan,” she started.

“Hey, look Paige. I got this, okay?” her boss responded immediately, well aware of her feelings concerning the case.

“No. You can't let that little boy go home with that jerk,” she hissed.

Mr. Cowan signaled to the Grisanti's that he would be right with them and lowered his voice. "Paige, number one, you don't know for a fact he's abusing the boy. And number two, this is none of your business. You are an assistant, not a social worker,” he reprimanded.

“That's because you're too cheap to make me one,” Paige jabbed, which he ignored as he entered the room and began drawing the blinds. She gave Jake Grisanti a judgmental, knowing look but was shocked to see him give her a smug smile in return. Didn’t child abusers have any shame?

Paige had no way of knowing that while Jake Grisanti was in the bathroom, the Source had leaped from Shane’s body into his, the next step in the demon’s plan to corrupt her.

***

The Yellow Pages in hand, Piper knocked on Prue’s bedroom door and stuck her head in, “Prue, I think I found…" Seeing that she wasn't in there, Piper turned thoughtfully, heading down the hall to Phoebe's room. Prue wasn't in there either. Perhaps it was silly of her to think it a possibility. She took a sorrowful look around the room, lightly touching their sister's things, and pausing at a framed photograph of the three of them. "Oh, Phoebe," she sighed.

Deciding that she wasn’t going to let herself cry right now, Piper went to the window, checking that Prue’s car was in the driveway, which, of course, it was. When was the last time Prue had left the house except by Shimmer, other than the hearse? Then again, the same could be said of her. At least Prue was getting out, even if it was just to hunt demons.

That thought gave Piper an idea. Heading downstairs to the kitchen, she wasn't surprised to find the basement door ajar. Intermittent thuds could be heard coming from below. She placed the Yellow Pages down on the kitchen counter and carefully lowered herself down the wooden basement steps, where she found Prue with her hands wrapped, pummeling Phoebe's punching bag.

“Prue, I think I found the church,” said Piper to no effect. “Prue?”

Prue’s face and body were drenched in sweat, her purple sports bra soaked through. She delivered multiple quick jabs, then pulled her arm back for one last punch, which sent the heavy bag barreling into the basement wall, its ceiling bracket chain snapping clean in two.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“Looks like you’re getting better at combining your Telekinesis with your punches,” Piper remarked.

"I didn't mean to do that," Prue mumbled breathlessly, taking a long sip from her water bottle.

“Oh…” said Piper awkwardly. “Well, I found the church. We should go. Maybe grab a shower first, though?”

“It’s not enough,” she said. “We’re not enough.”

“Sure…but like Leo said, maybe with Paige—”

"Oh, be realistic, Piper," Prue dismissed. "How is Paige going to make a difference? You and I have the active powers. Phoebe trained constantly to make up for that, and then she developed Levitation, which augmented her martial arts. Paige will have the power of Premonition. It's handy but against the Source...?"

Piper looked down. “She’s half-Whitelighter, though. That could make a difference.”

“I saw her Orb, Piper. She barely avoided Shax’s attack and didn’t even move from the spot. She didn’t even know what happened.”

“Okay, but with time, she can learn to control her powers, like we did.”

“That’s my point! We don’t have time. It’s taken us three years to get to where we are, but the Source is here now! She’s not ready. She’s not ready for what’s coming, Piper, and we don’t have time to train her.”

“I… What are you saying, Prue?”

“I’m saying, we need to be focusing on ourselves. I’m going to work on my kickboxing, improve my TK combat, and try to develop my Astral Projection. What about you?”

“What about me?” Piper asked, irked by the question.

“Well, you’ve got this kick-ass new power, but we’ve barely tested it. I mean, it’s great that you’re not blowing up kitchen appliances anymore, but I think there’s room for improvement. You should at least learn to discern between it and your freezing power.”

Piper raised her eyebrows, pursing her lips to bite back a vicious retort. “Okaaay,” she said, nodding her head considerately, “I guess I could do that.”

“And I think you should start kickboxing classes, too. Or maybe something else to mix it up, add some variety to our repertoire. Aikido, maybe?”

“Aikido?” Piper repeated, her voice high with faux interest.

“Yeah, I mean, after Shax…”

“What about Shax?” Piper asked with a chuckle. “We kicked his ass!”

“Not before he kicked ours, multiple times if we include…” Prue trailed off. “I mean, God, Piper… What happened that day?”

“You’re asking me? Even Cole doesn’t know the full story.”

“I mean…after Leo revived me, I just couldn’t believe you were lying there next to me. How did we both end up going through that wall? I got blasted pushing Doctor Griffiths out of the way. How did you end up—”

“Prue…” Piper warned dangerously, “Don’t.”

"Come on, Piper. Did you even try to blow him up, to freeze his air blasts?" Prue challenged. "Maybe if you had, Phoebe wouldn't have felt the need to send Leo bac—"

Never in her life had Piper slapped her big sister, not properly, but that's what she did at that moment, and she didn't regret it one bit. Her face flushed with fury, she told Prue clearly, "Shower, get dressed, and be ready to leave within the hour," then marched up the basement steps without another word.

Prue held her hand to her cheek, her head still turned from the force of the slap. She closed her eyes tightly as a pang of shame surged through her. Her sister had struck her, and she had deserved it.

***

Paige paced back and forth outside the meeting room until her boss emerged. “What's happened?” she asked.

“Nothing's been decided,” said Mr. Cowan. “We're gonna meet again tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? You can't let him go home with that kid!”

“I can, and I am. Look, Paige, you weren't in there. He was very persuasive.”

“Persuasive? What about the police report? What about the counselor's recommendations?”

“Look, Paige, I know how you feel about these cases, but we can't make a decision based on what you think. We have to base it on facts, and right now, we don't have enough. I'm sorry.”

As Mr. Cowan walked off toward his office, Jake Grisanti stepped out of the meeting room and confronted Paige. “You got a problem, lady?" he sneered.

“Yeah, I do,” Paige answered plainly, not intimidated in the least by the miserable excuse for a man. “I got a problem with people who hit their kids.”

“Come on, Jake. Let's just go,” urged Carol Grisanti.

“Wait,” he told his wife, then turned on Paige, lowering his voice. “Listen, I can do whatever the hell I want to… And there's nothing you can do to stop me!”

From within Jake Grisanti’s body, the Source was pleased to see Paige, incensed, walk away, grab her purse, and storm off toward the exit.

Noticing her departing, Mr. Cowan called after her, “Where do you think you're going?”

She gave him a single word in reply before reaching the door, “Church!”