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Prue discarded Cole onto the couch with very little care, rolling her shoulder the moment she was free from the burden of his weight. He grunted as he collapsed onto the arm of it, his legs resting off the side with his feet on the carpet.
It was such a pathetic sight.
"You’re getting blood on the couch," she said.
"You remember you put me here, right?"
She rolled her eyes. Looming over him, she crossed her arms against her chest as she watched him roll onto his back and do nothing about his legs. A kinder person would gently take his ankles and lift them so his feet were resting on the opposite arm, but Prue wasn’t known for her kindness. His shirt was bloodied and he was holding his bicep with red seeping through his fingers. Wasn’t there a time when this couch saw better days?
It was strange to think Cole—Belthazor—bled red. It was even stranger to think they had that in common.
"What are you staring at?"
"For you to heal."
"That’s nice, you willing me to get better. Never knew you had it in you, Prue."
She rolled her eyes and shifted on her feet, but didn’t step away from him. The Manor was quiet; it creaked like it knew someone unwelcome was inside of its belly, but Prue didn’t sweep him out through the front door like she often wanted to.
That seemed cruel.
And Prue, despite her cruelty, wasn’t that kind of person.
He winced when he sighed, gripping his arm tightly. That prompted blood to drool over his knuckles. Still red. "You know it doesn’t work that way."
She sighed. "Why? You’re a demon."
"Half."
Like that mattered.
Cole swallowed thickly as his eyes fluttered closed for a moment. Her heart hammered, but she didn’t think much of it. Him closing his eyes hopefully meant he’d pass out. Wasn’t it near impossible to kill Cole? He was slimy. He was manipulative. He was one of the greatest demons to ever live—yet, only a few Halliwells ever had the pleasure of battling him.
To lose such a demon… To lose such part of their magical history…
When he opened them again, he peered up at her with the same exasperation she’d come to expect. "I’m half-demon. An important distinction."
"Still a demon to me."
"Do you want to have this argument now? Again?" He sighed and shifted against the couch. Cole drew his brows together before parting his lips and gasping softly. He held himself in a way that drew him away from resting against the back of the couch. A demon with manners. There’d still be droplets of blood staining the cushions despite his attempt at valiance. "Thought you’d get a bit bored with this song and dance."
She was.
No matter how many times they had this argument, neither of them ever truly won. He was a demon with a soul who’d somehow managed to bury his guilt for centuries. He often claimed he’d finally found it when she slammed him into the grandfather clock for the nth time and earned him another seven years of bad luck.
Which one of them truly had the bad luck?
He was a cockroach she couldn’t kill. She was a mouse he could never catch.
Prue abruptly lowered to her knees beside him and shuffled close enough to the couch to bump her thighs.
Cole frowned at her. "What are you doing?"
"Helping you," she said without looking at him. From the corner of her eye, she could see him eye her suspiciously. Good. She liked it best when she took him by surprise.
He didn’t roll his arm away from her like he had that first time. He didn’t act like some wounded puppy, uncertain if he could trust her not to hurt him further. Remaining as he was on the couch, he turned toward her as subtly as he could.
She could see everything. Prue always did.
When he was on his good side, she poked his hand to prompt him to release the hold on his bicep. He did so reluctantly, curling his bloodied hand to his red sweater. Quite the colour choice. The red made his blue eyes brighter than they had any right to be.
It was easy tearing the threads of the torn sleeve apart with the mere tracing of her fingertip. When she swept her thumb over the open wound, he winced.
"You could pretend like you’re not enjoying this," he said.
Prue smiled. "You asked me to be myself around you. I’m being myself."
He exhaled roughly through his nose. "A mistake I wish I could take back."
She hummed.
Tilting her head to the side, Prue ignored the strands of hair sweeping into her face as she studied his wound. It wasn’t so deep she’d need Leo, but there was something inside that kept him from healing. She supposed he could heal. The Book of Shadows’ description of Belthazor hadn’t been updated since they learned who he truly was. There was still so much that remained unknown. There was still so much she could study and learn for the very first time without an ancestor having gotten there first.
He was like a painting that looked deceptively simple upon first glance, but the closer she pressed her nose, the more details she spied within the brush work and colour choices. It wasn’t lost on her that the sweeping swirls of Cole weren’t made of pure and thick and unmoving black anymore.
"What would happen if you turned into him?" she asked.
"Same thing that happened last time," he said. He was watching her. "Belthazor isn’t affected by my human half."
She lifted her brows. "We both know that’s a lie."
Cole flushed. She smiled before looking down at his wound and pressing her lips into a firm line.
"I can get it out," she said, "assuming it’s something I can get out."
"Spiky demons are lower tier, but they always leave a mess," he said. When Prue cocked her brow, he sighed. "They’re known to be poisonous. No one respects them because they take the easy way out."
"Right."
"There’s more respect for demons that… you know…"
"Kill witches?"
He shrugged and winced.
"You deserved that."
Cole sucked on his teeth and shifted against the couch again. His gaze drifted to her hand where her thumb was sweeping over the sore skin near his wound. Prue didn’t tear her hand away from his bicep once she realised what she was doing, but she did intentionally stop the movement of her thumb.
"Do you want me to get it out?"
"Of course," he said, frowning. "Just…" He cleared his throat. "Not at the expense of yourself."
She smiled. "I can stop a spike from touching my skin."
It was his turn to cock his brow. "How do you know that the spike isn’t attracted to magic?"
She narrowed her eyes. "Is it?"
Cole shrugged. "Lower level demons aren’t exactly the most studied because, you know… they’re kind of boring."
"Has anyone ever told you you’re sometimes very useless?"
He smiled. "Frequently and passionately."
Prue rolled her eyes and peered down at his wound again, although it was hard to study the straight, clean line when he was staring at her. His lips were parted, and his blue eyes were so bright. Before she could snap at him, his bloodied fingers brushed her hair away from her face, his fingertips lighting sweeping over the shell of her ear.
She stared at him as his hand lingered.
Prue cleared her throat, forcing herself to inhale deeply before she shuffled on her knees, effectively pulling away from his warm touch. Were all upper level demons so warm?
"Focus," she snapped.
The corner of his lips curved upward. "Focused."
"On my count," she said.
Cole nodded, tensing his jaw as soon as Prue hovered her hand over his bicep. She fanned her fingers and kept her hand close to his ruined sleeve. She wiggled her fingers, although she wished it wasn’t to prolong the inevitable.
"One—"
She pulled the metallic spike from his wound as he hissed.
"Ow!" He frowned, clasping his bloodied hand over his bicep. "You were meant to go on three!"
Prue smiled widely. "I never said that," she said as she sat back on her heels. With her hand held palm up, she wiggled her fingers as she let the small metallic piece hover above her hand.
"A new trick," he said, voice tense, as he sat up against the couch’s arm. "Maybe you could go join the circus."
She didn’t let her smile falter. Prue examined the metal spike in her hand, ignoring him as she began to mentally flick through the pages of the Book she’d studied over the last few weeks. A few demons popped into her head.
Prue pushed her knees into the floor as she stood, resting her hand briefly on his side as she righted herself. Standing over him, she tilted her head as she examined the spike hovering in her hand.
"Get up," she said without looking at him as she turned. "We don’t have much time."
Cole groaned as he shifted audibly against the couch. "Has anyone ever told you your bedside manner could use a lot of work?"
"Many," she said as she charged up the stairs. Prue glanced back toward the living room and smiled as Cole walked through the arch at a slow yet steady pace, a small smile on his lips. His eyes were bright. "Still doesn’t change the fact we have a demon to catch!"