Note #1: I'm glad to see that most of you seem to be as interested on Cole's family issues as I am.
Note #2: "Roll the Dice, Run for Your Life" readers, don't worry: I haven't dropped that story. I'll be updating later tonight.
Note #3: Yes, Chloe, most of the stories on my website were written by me.
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"Well, it's about time you showed up! I've been waiting here for..." -- Julie's voice trailed off when she realized that the newcomer wasn't who she had expected.
"I don't know who you are," she said coldly, frowning at Erzsebet, "but you're clearly at the wrong cave; this is a private party."
"If you don't know who I am," Erzsebet said, "you obviously haven't done your homework properly."
Without further warning, she fired an energy ball at Julie, making sure it wasn't strong enough to kill her. Then she carelessly walked past the knocked out demoness, heading towards the table on which Ben had already rolled onto his stomach, and was now crawling his way towards the edge.
"Leaving a one-year-old all by himself and expecting him to be still for more than five seconds," she sneered, stopping the child just as he leaned his head over the edge of the table, "Newbies..."
Ben raised his head towards the lady who held him still and smiled brightly at her.
"Hi," he said.
"Hi," Erzsebet said, after a brief hesitation. She took Ben in her arms and gave him a somewhat amused look. Bowing her head, she could smell the soft fragrance of lavender in his hair, and the boy snuggled contently in her arms, glad to see that the "hi" trick hadn't lost its charms, after all: it had gotten him rid off that cold stone table, hadn't it? Then Erzsebet shuddered, snapping away from the long lost memories that the warmth of the little body nestled in her arms threatened to bring back, and circled the table, putting it between them and Julie's inert body, while saying:
"Now, what should I do with you?"
She kneeled down and sat Ben on the ground, with his back leaning against one of the table's thick legs.
"Now," she said, "you wait here while I have a little chit chat with your friend over there."
"No!" Ben protested, indignantly, trying to free himself as she tied her shawl around him and the table leg, thus making sure he'd have his back turned to Julie.
"Yes," Erzsebet said sternly. "I have some pretty messy business to take care of, and you're not supposed to see this kind of stuff. At least, not until you're older." she finished, making sure it wasn't too tight, but tight enough to prevent him from turning around.
Ben pouted, clearly unsatisfied with this arrangement, and she said, while already standing up:
"Don't even bother giving me that face. It didn't work for your father when he was your age, and it won't work for you, either."
She left the boy struggling vainly with the ties that imprisoned him, and walked quickly towards Julie. Grabbing her by her hair, she turned the other demoness' face towards hers, and Julie moaned and struggled against her grip.
"Ready to talk?" Erzsebet asked.
Julie considered the idea of shimmering out, but dismissed it almost immediately. The bitch holding her hair wouldn't be looking so confident if she wasn't able to follow her to wherever she went. She held her composure the best she could considering her whole body still felt numb from the energy ball and she was lying on the floor, with her head held back by one hell of a strong hand.
"You got the wrong demon," she grunted. "I don't know you."
"No, you don't," said Erzsebet, with a sneer. "We obviously walk in different circles. If you knew me, you'd know better than messing with my offspring."
Julie looked at her, bewildered. She opened her mouth to tell Erzsebet that it was a mistake, when it suddenly sank in who the demoness staring angrily at her was, and her eyes opened as wide as possible. She had heard about this demoness before; but then again, who hadn't?
"D-do you want the kid?" she asked, stunned. "Why? He's just plain human!"
"That's for me to know," Erzsebet said, curtly.
Without waiting for an answer, she snapped Julie's neck with one fluid movement. Then she took the dead body in her arms and shoved it in a dent of the wall, making sure it wouldn't be immediately noticed by someone entering the room. Finally, she moved back to Ben, who was starting to get irritated, whining and tugging at the shawl.
"There, there," Erzsebet said, while she untied the shawl. "It wasn't all that bad, and we both know that."
She took the boy in her arms and stood up again, looking for a place to sit.
"You're just cranky because you're probably hungry by now," she said, spotting a chair whose back leaned against the wall. She walked towards it and sat there with Ben in her arms, verifying that she could see the entire room from there while someone coming from the only door wouldn't immediately notice her.
"That should do it," she said to Ben, while making a quick yet carefull examination of his stomach and chest, looking for any scratches or bruises. "Anyway, this shouldn't take long. You see, she was expecting company -- apparently someone who should already be here by now. If I took you home now and came back here later, I could miss them, and I'm sure they'd be pretty disappointed if they didn't find anyone here. Now, we wouldn't want that to happen, would we?"
Feeling warm and comfortable, Ben had already calmed down by then, and babbled happily in response.
"I'm glad we agree on that," said Erzsebet, as she leaned back on the chair and prepared to wait for Julie's partner.
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In the manor, Piper, Leo, Phoebe, Cole and Paige finished their quick meal in silence. While they were eating, a couple of plans had come up, only to be quickly discarded because of their obvious flaws. Also, Phoebe had coaxed Cole into telling them more about his mother, not only because he seemed to need to talk, but also because somehow she felt that the key to their present dilemma laid deep in his past.
It wasn't hard for her to understand why Cole's mother inspired such conflicted feelings in him. Phoebe knew how difficult it was for her husband to put his life in the hands of others: that was one of the reasons why the loss of his powers had shaken him so badly. He felt helpless, having to rely on other people's magic to protect himself and the ones he loved. Trust definitely wasn't one of his strong points, and how could she blame him? Evil was anything but trusting: in the Underworld alliances were broken every day, schemes were plotted behind people's backs, long term allies became enemies in the blink of an eye. That was the world he lived in for almost his entire life, the only reality he had known for more than a century. He learned to rely only on his powers to keep himself alive, never trusting anyone completely.
She could only imagine how disconcerting it must be for him to know that all his might was useless against his mother, that he could never make himself use it against her. It was clear that even now Cole was having trouble decoding the feelings he had for his mother, but Phoebe could see that he knew -- as he had always known -- that he would never raise his hand against her. As for the feelings that the demoness harboured for the half human child she had given birth to -- that, considering the creature they had just seen had feelings at all -- Phoebe had no idea what their nature was, and she doubted Cole himself was very sure about them. After all, it couldn't be love: evil couldn't love. Could it? It was unheard of; but then again, so was a demoness getting pregnant with a half human baby. One way or the other, whatever her feelings were, Cole's mother had never expressed them in words: so, while Cole knew for sure that he'd never hurt her, he could only trust that she -- contrary to her nature -- would never threaten his life as well.
Phoebe watched as Cole put the empty glass on the tray that rested on the coffee table. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and stared dejectedly at it. The sight of him chewing his lower lip the same way Ben did when he was upset made Phoebe's heart wrench: they looked so much alike! Ben had been gone for almost two hours, and they still had no clue of where he was or how to bring him back. She leaned forward, too, and passed her arm through Cole's, cuddling with him as tight as she could and pressing her face against his shoulder. She was almost as surprised as the others when she heard her own voice saying:
"She'll help."
"What?" said Cole, giving her a puzzled look. "Why do you say that, baby?"
When Phoebe answered, looking him in the eyes, it was like the pieces of a puzzle coming together: it had been there all the time, it's just that until then she had been too hurt and scared to see it.
"Because you take after her," she said, gently. "You couldn't turn your back on Sarsour when he came asking for your help. You didn't turn your back on me when Prue was kidnapped by that warlock, even though I said I didn't want to see you ever again. It's just not like you."
As Cole stared at her, uncertain, she proceeded, softly:
"You don't see it, do you? How much the two of you are alike?"
"I'm not..."
"Baby," she said, fondling his face, "I have been trained by you. I know I wasn't there when your mother trained you but, from what you've told us, it seems to me that you have trained me the same way she trained you: pushing me almost to the edge, never giving me a break, making me repeat the same move over and over again until it was perfect."
Phoebe smiled sadly as she added:
"And you may not make Ben fight like your mother did to you, but sometimes you talk to your one-year-old son as if he was a grown up: you tell him the differences between the factions, and why a Seer is not the same thing as an Oracle, and how to tell a Darklighter from a Whitelighter, while he gives you that look that says 'Daddy, I have no idea what you're talking about, but you're a great guy, so I'll just sit here and nod every now and then'."
"That's because I worry about the two of you, Phoebe!" Cole said. "I couldn't stand it if anything happened to..." -- he stopped short, frowning slightly.
Cole leaned back on the couch, dumbfounded, putting his arm around Phoebe's shoulders. Parenthood had been a mystery and a challenge for him from day one, and the last thing he would've expected was that his experiences with his mother would have influenced his own behavior as a father.
"I never intended to be like her," he muttered.
"I know. And I'm sure you're not," said Phoebe, gently. "Still, you seem to have learned something from her. Like taking responsibility for your family, and keeping your allies."
Cole nodded, almost absently, while his mind flew back in time once again.
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He was fifteen, and he and his mother had shimmered to a remote realm to practice arm to arm combat, but he was distracted and clearly only doing it half heartedly. It didn't take long for his mother to notice it, but instead of saying something, she just increased the intensity of her assault; the more aggressive she was, though, the more grudging he became.
Under normal circumstances, the perception of her growing anger would've snapped him out of his lethargy, but on that day he just didn't care. The day before he had beaten another demon in one of the frequent quarrels teenage demons often engaged in. Those confrontations were very common in the Underworld, so common that the grown ups barely took notice of them: it was part of the natural selection that would identify the tougher demons. That time, though, as the defeated demon was walking away, Cole had heard him mutter something about half breeds tied to mommy's apron strings. He had almost followed the other kid and questioned him angrily about his words, but they had actually touched a nerve: it was true that other demons of his age -- even some that were younger -- had already left their mothers' quarters. The only time he had raised the subject, though, his mother cut him short with a look that ended the discussion right there and then. Until then, he had considered that as just another case of his mother wanting things to be done her way, but the demon's words had shed a new light on it.
Finally his mother caught him off guard, slamming him hard in the chin and making him stumble back until he fell heavily on the ground. He landed on a pointy rock that tore his shirt open and scraped his side deep enough to draw blood. The pain coming from both his offended chin and the wound on his side dizzied him briefly, and before he could stand up his mother had towered over him, glaring down at him.
"Are you trying to infuriate me?" she hissed. "Cause, if you are, you're doing a damn good job."
As he didn't answer right away, she pursued, all the more enraged:
"What's wrong with you? You've made mistakes today that you stopped making months ago!"
"This is useless," he muttered.
"What?!?"
The cold anger in her voice made him flinch, but he still said:
"This is useless. You're wasting both your time and mine here: I just don't have what it takes."
Even though he stubbornly avoided eye contact with her, he could hear her draw a sharp intake of breath.
"What the hell are you talking about?" she asked coldly.
He finally raised his eyes to her, and said rancorously:
"I'm only half a demon: you can't expect me to perform like a real demon... it's just unrealistic. You know that. That's why you won't let me move out: because I'm no match for the real world."
"Where did all this crap come from?" she asked sharply.
"What difference does it make? It's true, isn't it?"
"What have I told you about answering a question with another question?" she snapped between clenched teeth.
The omminous edge to her voice didn't go unnoticed by him, and he finally started to worry that he might have gone too far.
"People say that," he muttered, without much conviction.
His mother narrowed her eyes, which was usually a sign that her patience was dangerously close to the limit, and he added, shrugging:
"Vincent said that."
She stared at him in silence for a while, then suddenly said:
"All right, let's go back home."
As he looked at her in surprise, she added, coldly:
"There's no pointing in proceeding: clearly your mind isn't on this. As you said, it'd be a waste of time. Can you shimmer?"
He just nodded, baffled, and she shimmered out without another word. He did the same, feeling oddly disappointed that she hadn't insisted, hadn't even tried to convince him that he was wrong. It only reinforced his conviction that she, too, considered him inadequate, and it hurt him much more than he had thought it would: despite his bitter words, deep down he hoped his mother would say that there was nothing wrong with him. As he shimmered into their quarters, he was biting his lower lip, furious with himself for being such a wimp; then again, it was exactly the kind of thing one should expect from his weak human half.
When he didn't find his mother there, he looked around, confused. Then she shimmered in next to him and he understood what had delayed her: she was carrying a bowl full of snow in her hands. While pouring the snow into a bag she said curtly, without looking at him:
"Take off this shirt and sit on your bed."
He obliged in silence, and watched as she picked up some bandages and a flask containing a dark liquid that he knew from experience would make his wound sting like hell but would also close it almost immediately. She sat by his side on the bed and handed him the snow bag without a word, and he pressed it against his sore chin. Then she started to clean the wound, while he bit his lips and did his best not to wince.
"Where has Duayne been?" she asked after a few minutes.
"Uh?" he said, confused.
"Duayne," she repeated, still applying that damn potion to his wound. "I haven't seem him lately."
"Oh, he was killed in a confrontation with the vampires."
"And Karl? I haven't seen him, either."
"Vanquished."
"I see. What about what's-her-name, with red hair, green eyes, and a really bad attitude?"
"Gail," he said. "The Furies caught her last week."
He was relieved to see her finally put the flask aside and pick up some bandages.
While she bandaged his wound, she asked, matter-of-factly:
"Have you noticed that many of the kids that have grown up with you are gone? Don't you ever wonder why?"
"Uh, no," he said, confused.
"That's the problem with teenagers," she snorted. "Never think. Never learn from others' experiences."
He glanced at her, unsure, and she explained:
"Those kids are dead because they were stupid. They were teenagers, and that's just how teenagers are. About half the teenage demons never make it to be adults."
Cole glanced up at her, intrigued, and she proceeded, keeping her eyes on the bandage she was wrapping:
"It's a fact. Their powers are fully developed, but they can't control them properly yet. And as soon as they find themselves on their own, they start taking unnecessary risks, making all the wrong decisions."
She paused, giving the bandage a critical look and reached out for the scissors resting on the nightstand.
"All of them," she said while trimming the edge of the bandage. "Half breeds, thoroughbreds... Never changes."
As Cole finally started to understand where that was going, he gave his mother a hesitant look while she finished bandaging his wound, and asked sheepishly:
"Why do they leave their mothers' quarters, then?"
"I guess," she sighed, checking the bandage one last time, "that by the time they reach this age, both the young demons and their mothers are so sick of each other that they're willing to take the risk."
Cole lowered his eyes to the ruined shirt resting on his knees, and toyed with the fabric in silence, feeling slightly embarrassed, because that was exactly what he had in mind when he wanted to move out. He felt his mother's hands leaving his body, experiencing a feeling of longing as she broke the physical contact. In spite of his bravado, his childhood was still close enough for him to yearn for the reassurance that his mother's touch brought to him.
"Lie down on your stomach," she said then, cutting off his musings.
As he obligled, Cole was pleasantly surprised to feel her hands start massaging the sore muscles of his shoulders and back with tea tree oil.
"You need to learn how to fall," she said. "Otherwise, the fall can hurt you more than the blow that sent you to the ground."
"Uh-hu," he muttered, but he was still thinking about her previous words. "So," he said tentatively, "I will move out, too... eventually?"
"Sure," she said. "When you learn not to listen to what jackasses like Vincent say."
Cole rested his head on his crossed arms and allowed himself to enjoy the feeling of her hands nimbly dissolving some tension knots while she soothed the bruises caused by his fall.
"How is your chin?" she asked after some time.
"Better," he said. "But I think it'll be blue tomorrow. You have one hell of a punch." He hesitated, then asked sheepishly: "Mother, do you think someday I'll fight as well as you do?"
"Sure," she said, while her fingers grazed his hair ever so slightly. It lasted only a moment, and then her hand retracted quickly and continued the massage. "You're pretty good already; you just have to concentrate more."
They remained in silence for a while, until she withdrew her hands and declared herself done. Throwing a blanket on his back, she said:
"You lie there and get some rest; the oil may have taken away the pain, but your body still needs some time to heal." Standing up, she added: "I'll be with Rowena, in case you need me. She promised me a potion for today and, since your training ended early, I might as well go see if it's ready."
While she was leaving, he called to her again:
"Mother?"
"Yes?" she said, stopping at the doorway and turning around to face him.
"Why did you prevent me from moving out? Why didn't you just let me be on my own, like other mothers?"
His mother bit her lower lip briefly, then said, shrugging:
"I have already invested a lot of time and effort in your training: I'd hate to see you get yourself killed before I see the results of my work."
With that, she left, leaving him to muse about his mixed feelings. Later that day, Sarsour came looking for him, and he was perfectly happy to just sit there and talk.
When Cole told him what had happened, his friend just shrugged and said:
"Do you know what your problem is, Belthazor? You think too much. Why can't you just accept the fact that, unlike other demons, you have someone who actually cares whether you live or die? Gee, I moved out three years ago and I doubt my father has even noticed it."
"I'm sure he noticed how silent the place suddenly became without your snoring," Cole said with a smile.
"I do not snore!" protested Sarsour, but he was smiling, too. He had slept over several times, specially when they were younger, when his father was out and he was scared to spend the night alone in their quarters, and the snoring thing had been the subject of many heated arguments between him and Cole.
"You so do snore!"
"Do not!"
"Do to!"
They played this game a little more before moving to other subjects. By the time Cole's mother returned, they were playing blackjack, all thoughts of the previous incidents completely forgotten. She watched as Cole accused Sarsour of cheating -- which he was, of course: he always did, but with such skill that Cole never got to catch him in the act -- she then walked around the divider that separated her bed from his and went to get some rest before she left on her next assignment.
Cole didn't move out of his mother's quarters until he was nineteen. By then, not half of the demons that had grown up with him, but rather 70% of them, were already dead.
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When Cole felt Phoebe tense up in his arms, he promptly straightened up, watching the spot where the air was flickering lightly as his mother shimmered in.
For a terrible moment, he was sure that she had failed; he could almost hear her saying that it had been too late. Then, as the air settled, he watched in awe as she stood there with Ben in her arms. The boy looked unharmed and not scared at all; quite on the contrary, he smiled at them and said cheerfully:
"Hi!"
Before anyone could stop her, Phoebe jumped to her feet and, throwing caution out the window, dashed towards her baby. She stopped short right in front of Erzsebet, and the two mothers stared at each other for a moment, the demoness measuring the witch with her eyes, while this one sustained her look without even flinching.