Disclaimer: see Chapter 1. Songs used are Evanescence- Haunted, The Only One.

Shades Of Gray

Chapter 2: Passion's Killing Floor

Long lost words whisper slowly to me
Still can't find what keeps me here

Careful to lie him down on his front, I set Cole down on the living room couch. Brittney ran off for the first aid kit, Amy was setting up the protection wards, all while Vera was watching our house guest with unnerving intensity.

Me? I was screaming.

"Zane! Get your ass down here and tell me what the fuck is going on! ZANE!"

As Amy came in with Jeff, sans crystals, said helpful pain in the ass shimmered in. His eyes were their usual luminescent shade of stormy grey, no white what so ever. Coffee black hair flowed down his back, even farther then mine, clad in his usual charcoal robes and sigil of the gateway medallion.

"You rang?" he replied, casual as if he'd stopped by for a cup of tea and biscuits.

"Person, demon, guy—heal! And then you have a fuck load of explaining to do. Both of you," I added, glaring the last at Cole, who merely did something resembling a shrug.

If one could shrug using one shoulder while lying on his stomach, then that's what the mystery man on my couch did. Apparently he actually thought I deserved a decent explanation from him. That was a shocker, honestly, it was.

"Alright, but perhaps we should take care of our other half demon first."

I looked to the left of Zane to see Vera, head cocked to one side as she watched the blood flow, licking her lips in hunger.

"Vera…" I asked cautiously.

She snapped back, so quick it looked painful. Her Nordic ice orbs were now a deep garnet, iris and such showing in variant shades of vermilion. I did not have time to deal with this. So, I called on the one person who never disappeared at the most inconvenient times.

"Jeff!"

He burst forward and grabbed an arm, his half-demon girlfriend seizing the other. She remained unaffected, but Amy wasn't a blood demon either. Together, they hauled her off to the basement and out of sight.

As Zane took a second glance at our houseguest, that head angled to one side in thought as he set about patching him up.

"Correct me if I'm wrong Turner, but aren't you supposed to be dead?"

"I was. Fate changed, among things."

"Did the evil part change or should I just kill you? Actually no, stain the sofa. Throw you outside, then kill you. Yeah, that's not a bad plan."

"Hey, slow down. I'm not evil anymore. Why else would I have taken an athame for you?" he asked, looking up at me in what was without a doubt an attempt at innocence. Though it was just that, an attempt. He was far from innocent, a fact that made my heart pound in a staccato rhythm that had nothing to do with fear.

In fact I could think of a lot of answers to his rhetorical question, and none of them he would like. Instead of responding, I turned to Zane, who nodded in confirmation.

"Thanks for that. Now what the fucking hell is an Akashan?"

Never understood this life.
And you're right, I don't deserve

The sorcerer and I exchanged a look. The 'should I tell or should you?' look. I knew it well.

"Every 50 years," Zane began, "a human is selected to be a new elemental. Normally its one of the usual four; earth, fire, water, or air. However, once ever 5,000 years an elemental is chosen of the fifth, Spirit; an Akashan. Chosen to wield the forces of the universe itself."

Breaking the rule just this once, I delved into her mind. Thoughts laid out before me, I heard them loud and clear:

'I can't believe it.. Seriously, one of you has to be mistaken. Myself and two badass Wiccans barely survived an encounter with two measly suits, and that was with the aid of another halfling! There is no way on Goddess' green earth I am powerful enough to be this omnipotent witch.'

"You've got it all wrong. I'm just a lousy necromancer!"

"Don't you ever wonder where your power comes from?" I asked, sitting up so the ancient alchemist could wrap my wound while the potion took effect.

I left her next thoughts to her own mind. The power was another gift by the Shades. When she trusted me enough, it would disappear. By her current status, I calculated that wouldn't occur anytime soon.

"Mef this. I'm going to pass out in Vera's room. Cole, you can take mine. And don't even try arguing with me your wounded no if ands or buts will get you out of it even if yours is exceptionally hot and holy Hecate I'm shutting up now GOOD NIGHT!"

I won't let you pull me down

With that said I bolted up the stairs, almost falling only twice, and made it to the bedroom without landing flat on my face. Yay me!

Stripping off my leather pants and radioactive green halter, my clubbing clothes were abandoned for much softer pastures in the form of a soft grey yoga pants set with matching tank top. My body curled up in a tiny ball under the soft down comforter of my bed. Thoughts dissipated as dreams took its place and sleep succumbed me.

Watching me, wanting me
I can feel you pull me down

I was drowning in sounds, overwhelmed completely by shouting, banging, yelling, screaming. Pounding on my walls, determined to breach the boundaries. All demanding one thing.

Me.

"No, you don't want me. I'm not an Akashan. I'm just not!"

And from the dim static of speech one voice came through loud and clear.

"You are"

I shot awake, caked in sweat despite the chill of the autumn night. Sleep wasn't going to come back easily. This I knew to be true. Hence, I resigned to make my way downstairs to the kitchen. There was one thing I could always count on to calm me down. Its in the fridge and its not milk.

So afraid to open your eyes, hypnotized.
You know you're not the only one

I could hear her through the wall, talking in her sleep. She could deny it all she wanted, but try as she may there was no escaping her destiny.

Fearing you, loving you
I won't let you pull me down

The crystals outside were in a constant radiance, white light clearly visible from the window I stood by, sipping down my Hawaiian Tropic wine cooler by B&G. Those quartz points only glowed when something was trying to break it down.

Dreams are never just fiction for me. Being chased by plastic flamingos and escaping via 67 Impala driven by the Winchesters, that's merely an overactive imagination. Being attacked by servants of the Source who want to join them or die, that's a jumbled form of reality.

Speaking of, that voice at the end was nagging at me. My first instinct was Zane, but he wouldn't have been so discreet. He would have just appeared and fucking told me. So that left only one suspect…

Don't look down,
Don't look into the eyes of the world beneath you

She looked ethereal standing by the window, framed by the moonlight. Its glow gave her a heavenly appearance, but she was definitely no angel. A fallen one perhaps. Must have been why demons constantly barraged her life, always underestimating her.

Unnoticed, I watched as she brought a single red rose back from it withered state inside a sparkling crystal vase, a black light immersing the flower as she did so.

"A little late night magic?"

"Hardly. I'm just exercising my powers. It's either this or an army of road kill. This smells prettier," she stated, her voice calm and even as if she were discussing the daily forecast rather then the reanimation of dead matter.

"Yet you think your not powerful enough to be an Akashan," I added, making it sound like the question it was as I laid a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. How was I to do that, I didn't have the slightest idea. But the Shades seemed to think otherwise, so here I was, aiding the next Akashan on her path to greatness. Hey, it beats hell. A lot.

When all this time I've been so hollow inside
I know you're still there

I didn't notice him before; it bothered me. Embracing my power, I could sense anything magickal, and anyone. Somehow I was so distracted a resurrected half-demon ex-Source eluded my senses. What was I coming to?

"Any necromancer can do what I do. It's nothing special, honest," I stated, doing my best to ignore the tingling sensation of electricity of my skin where his fingers lay.

"There's no need to be humble, though it is an attractive quality."

Setting down the now empty bottle, I turned to face him. Coffee orbs shot with gold met his own twin emeralds as I backed away from his touch.

I tried not to notice his state of appearance, which of course only made things worse. Walking around without a shirt of any kind should be a crime for this man.

"Don't. There is nothing attractive about me. No comments about me will save you because my looks do nothing for me. I am disgusting, a being of death who brings only food for the raven's wherever she goes. So don't you dare call me attractive when all I attract is evil and chaos."

"That's not entirely true. I'm not evil or chaotic, and you've attracted me."

"Well—that's because…your…just..being an ass-kiss so I'll protect you from the Source. Ha!"

"For the last time, I'm not evil anymore! I don't work for the Source now, or anyone demonic for the matter. Is it really that hard for you to believe that people find you attractive?"

Hmm…let me think about that.

"Yes!"

"How could that possibly be?" he began, cutting me off before I could get out a syllable with "and your necromancy does not count."

Damn him back to where ever the fuck he came from. I did not want to have a 'lets share our pain' talk at 2 in the morning with a possibly evil yet extremely attractive half-demon, especially one discussing my previous boyfriend.

"I had a bad experience."

Not my best, but running on 2 and a half hours of sleep, I think I deserve a little leniency.

"Define 'bad experience'."

Oh you little—

"An experience of….badness!" I stated blandly, trying not to sound too desperate as I moved around him towards the staircase; to my escape. His hand wrapped vice-tight around my wrist, impeding my movement.

"Let me go," my voice cold and bitter as I spoke the demand.

"That was a lousy definition."

"What do you want?"

"A name."

"King Richard the III, now will you let me go?" My smart-assery earned a grin. Cute. No not cute; sappy. Mmhm, very sappy. Yeah, that's it.

"No, the name of the man who did this to you."

My first instinct was to start ticking off the various names of the image of the Powers That Be, starting with Kristo. Then my mind suddenly formed an actual plan, revolving around telling the truth. That was a first.

"Phillip Halliwell."

I think he would have been less shocked if I said Pope Benedict the Third. Luckily, my stratagem worked. His hand fell away as the weight of this fact him hit like silver to shifters. Before he could even begin to say "relatives of the Charmed Ones" I was up the stairs and far beyond his reach. Doing everything but run, I bolted into bed; silently as not to wake Vera, and drifted back to sleep.

There I dreamt of pains past, death, and a certain seductive almost human.

A/N my deepest apolagies for the late updates. Stuck in Utah for the past week with no internet. Said time there spawned a new fanfic as well, though I have no idea where its going. I have much more of this written, just not typed. I will try to post it in my usual deadline. Now please, go leave me reviews of love!!! Many many thanks to everyone who's reading this!!!!