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Author comments:
                        I extrapolated on a scene in The good, the bad and the
                        cursed. I felt there was more to it than we got to see.
                       
                       
                         "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--
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