** Change of Heart **, chapter 2: the Turning.

by Lilian

lilian413@yahoo.com

AN: Okay, first of all, thank you so much to all the wonderful people who have reviewed this story. And specially Ashley... it was your comments the ones that got me writing chapter 2, and right onto chapter 3!!.

Nothing much happens in here, I know, but I needed to write this. I promise chapter 3 will have more action and story development.



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Cole was desperate. He had gone beyond worried, concerned and angry a couple of hours ago, and jumped straight into desperation.

Phoebe was missing.

She had called Piper of her cell phone, by seven o'clock. It was already eleven, and there was still no trace of her. She said she had spoken to Emma, and that it had proven fruitless, and then her tracks disappeared. And he knew witches didn't just vanish from the face of Earth. Especially not Phoebe. And the possible explanations scared the hell out of him.

He had never known such fear. Never. Not even when he was a small half-demon, training in grounds made for creatures far stronger than he was at the time. Not even when he had faced the Source for the first time, a cowering youth, biting the inside if his chin to keep himself from bolting. Not even when Phoebe lay bleeding in the ground, her perfect features marred with pain, when the time loop had grabbed hold of her psyche.

He paced back and forth, fighting the urge to blast something. The demon in him, who had strangely grown attracted to Phoebe as well, demanded he destroy something. To let the anger go, to release the tension--- one good energy ball, and this house would burn to the ground.

He was glad he had remained human for so long. It was only because Belthazor was weakened and tired that had hadn't snapped already.

Piper and Paige were just as lost as he was. They had tried scrying for her several times, to no avail. Phoebe had dropped off the face of Earth. Leo's radar had proven useless too. All he had been able to tell them, was that she was alive.

Barely.

But what scared him the most, was that his connection to her was fading too.

Ever since they had met, they had shared this strange pull between each other. When one called, the other answered. It was probably due to the fact Phoebe was a Seer, and could connect to other minds. She never knew she had the Power, and Cole just hadn't had the time to teach her how to use it. And all demons were a little psychic, just making the connection easier.

But now--- as minutes went by, the pull slowly lessened. It began fading, like snow melts under the first rays of sun. And he was quite sure it wasn't because Phoebe was turning it off... it felt like something was blocking him. As the moon covers the sun during an eclipse, a dark shadow was slowly encircling Phoebe's call, and hiding it from him.

He had tried explaining it to the sisters and Leo, but *he* didn't quite understand it in the first place.

He knew something was wrong.

He knew Phoebe was in deep trouble. And he would go crazy without being able to help her. Emma and her revenge crusade were the least of his problems now.

"Leo, what are we going to do?".

Strange, how the otherwise secure and confident Piper dissolved into a scared young woman whenever her family was threatened.

"I don't know. The Elders don't know what happened to her either".

"Some Watchers they are. They never know anything!".

Paige's rant went unnoticed.

"I'll go and look for her".

Cole's voice was strained and low, but they heard him anyway. And Piper was the first one to try and stop him. The eldest sister had grown onto liking the tormented demon, her caring, embracing nature accepting him before her own heart did.

"You can't!. Maybe this is all a setup, a trap from the Source. He's trying to lure you out!".

"If he has Phoebe, I don't care what happens to me".

And before anyone else could try and convince him otherwise, he shimmered out, and began his own search for the woman he loved...


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The Source was a very patient demon. He had lived for thousands of years, and planned to live on for many more. And now he had a chance to fulfill that desire.

He had captured one of the Charmed Ones. At first, he had been thrilled at the idea of torturing her, and making that blasted Belthazor watch... but then, he had thought it better.

He had been killing witches for years to no end, and they just kept coming.

They were like roaches. Kill one, lift your feet, and two more run about.

He had had it.

If killing them mercilessly didn't work, he would try a different approach.

He had seen into this witch's heart, and knew of the doubts in there. Of the darkness she feared would one day consume her. Of the pain for the loss of her sister. Of the emptiness inside of her that Cole had filled.

He also knew of Belthazor's proposal... the stupid hybrid!. He had lost *years* training the damned freak!.

But the marriage proposal had its quirks. When he had proposed to her, he had opened a connection. He had bared his soul to her, asking a question demons were never meant to utter. And the Source had slipped right through, and gained an entrance into the witch's mind. He had more control over Belthazor than the red skinned crossbreed ever knew.

Good.

He knew her secrets, her desires, her needs and her doubts. That's why he had morphed into Belthazor's human form. He knew it was the best way to undermine her confidence. If he really wanted her to work for him, he would have to be cautious and sly, working his way from the inside out, destroying her defenses, one by one.

The power of premonitions she possessed also helped him. Unlike telekinesis or temporal stasis, premonitions were never meant for humans. It was a dangerous power, tiring and weakening, draining the energy of whoever bore it.

Sure, Phoebe Halliwell had been preparing for generations to receive it. Her soul had been crafted, cared for and sandpapered--- *prepared*. But it was never meant for her to control it. Unlike her sisters, who could call them forth at will, premonitions would come to Phoebe only when the Elders saw fit.

And they knew more than one premonition a day would kill her.

But they obviously had never *met* Phoebe Halliwell. What Phoebe Halliwell wanted, Phoebe Halliwell got. And she had gotten the handle on her powers some time last year. Not a very firm hold, I'll give you that, but still, she could sometimes call forth a premonition the Elders did not want to disclose.

And her body was taking the toll much harder than they had expected.

And the little human did not realize it.

She blamed it on too much demon vanquishing, and too much late night exercises. On bad eating habits, and too much studying--- never on the tiring effect premonitions had on her mind.

Skimming through her memories, he absently watched as the deceased sister vocalized the dangers of premonitions:

'Do I have to?. The last time I got all woozy...'

'Okay, you know, you guys take for granted that I'm your innocent yellow pages. This takes work'.

'Do your ears ring when you do that?'

Fools. Of course her ears would be ringing: a Seer lost control of her body as long as the premonition lasted!. Their main arteries contracted, their blood pressure jumped, oxygen stopped reaching the brain... they needed the synapsis to stop, and for brain cells to halt in order to slip the premonition into the mind.

The human body wasn't ready to take that kind of abuse. It's like flicking a switch on and off several times in a row--- the light bulb is bound to get burnt.

Just like Phoebe's brain would some day. Soon.

He had seriously considered brain-washing her, stripping her of her memories, and loosing precious knowledge in the process---

But then, he had felt it.

The small, tiny bundle of energy inside her. The microscopical cluster of meiotic cells, dividing inside her even as he watched. And the power. The power they had, the strength it carried within its chromosomes.

And the idea of a new type of hybrid just made his victory all the sweeter.

The witch was pregnant. With Belthazor's brat.

He had never heard of a witch getting knocked up by a demon before. Their genetic codes didn't match, and a hybrid could never be created. They had tried, oh, had they tried. Kidnapping witches hadn't been easy. That, and the fact they had only come up with things too horrible to release into the mortals' world, had discouraged them from trying. Non-humanoid demons were of little use in this realm... they could not wander around and work properly. It just wasn't worth the effort.

Yet somehow, this witch and Belthazor had accomplished it. Strange. Probably had to do with Beltazhor's human half; his genetic code ought to have so many alterations he was a miracle by himself. Or a mistake, depending how you looked at it. And the Charmed Ones, specially this one... they were something on their own.

He had never encountered such powerful witches before. There were prophecies foretelling their arrival, but nothing had prepared him for what was coming. Nothing *could* have prepared him for what was coming.

But all was better now.

What more could he ask?. Not only did he have the witch at his disposal, but also a new form of demon would fall right into his hands if he waited nine more months... oh, things were looking good. They were looking good indeed.

He hadn't expected the energy drain to be so severe though. When he had come up with the idea of turning the middle sister into one of his assassins, he had prepared a fitting welcome. He had conjured up spells and wards and guards, knowing the witch would be a hissing hurricane once he shimmered them under.

Strangely, she had acted slow and numb.

The brat was probably sucking up all of her energy. And she didn't even know about it!!. Wonderful. Just another thing to use once their little 'sessions' started.

He had tried convincing her with simple words, and twists of the truth.

He had expected her to resist. To fight it. It would make the breaking of her spirit all the better.

Now that he thought of it, maybe he wouldn't *have* to turn her. If he used the brat's existence as leverage, he could control her like a puppet.

He smiled, and glanced back, to the unconscious body of the middle Halliwell sister.

Yes, she was feisty indeed. She would be a nice addition to his Elite guard. A nice addition indeed.

Oh, to see the face of Belthazor when he sent her to fight him...

Priceless. Just priceless.


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Phoebe awoke slowly, the pain in her skull aching silently. Her hand came up, and covered her eyes, trying to erase the last shreds of sleep from them.

Gosh, where was she?. The last thing she remembered was talking to Ema... and then going back to the house and---

{Oh. My. God}.

The memories came rushing back like a tidal wave, invading her mind and loading her with the guilt and fear and anger, all over again.

But most of all, she remembered the Source's words.

'your daughter'

{My daughter. I don't believe it. I'm pregnant?}.

Pregnant?. She couldn't be pregnant!. She was on the pill for God's sake!. And Cole had sworn demons were unable to have children. She remembered *that* particular conversation quite well, considering they hadn't spoken to each other for days after it!.

Something she had read in a magazine somewhere jumped forward in her mind:

'The only safe sex, is no sex'.

Great. Fun-fucking-tastic. When she got back, she would castrate the horny little demon, she swore to herself.

Not that the idea of a child wasn't enjoyable. Surprising, yes. Unexpected, most certainly. Phoebe had never even considered the *idea* of marriage, and here she was, getting pregnant by her demonic boyfriend!.

She sighed, and pressed her left hand against her belly, softly making small circles around it.

"Are you really in there, little one?".

"Oh yes she is".

Her eyes snapped up, and widened at the sight of the Source standing a few feet away.

Gosh, she was getting careless. Of course she was still in the Underworld!. How could she have forgotten?. The surprise of the news must've hit her harder than she thought.

One quick look around, and only more stone walls greeted her eyes. Every room was the same down here, every wall identical to the last.

"Leave us alone".

Us?. She was talking in plural?. Weren't women supposed to *know* when they were pregnant?. Didn't they have like a sixth sense for these things?. She had needed a Superior Demon to realize the weariness she had been feeling for the past few days wasn't due to exhaustion!.

She remembered now, that she had skipped her last period.

Her busy schedule had gotten in the way, but now she could remember quite clearly: France. It must've been France. It had to have happened there.

France. With Cole. With a very passionate, apologizing Cole.

The Source began replying to her demand, but the premonition struck her with such strength, her head tilted backwards, and her eyes rolled on the back of her head.

{{A small bundle was being carried away from her, and she knew, she *knew* it was her daughter, the one growing inside of her right now, and she cried out for her, 'give her back!' but she couldn't speak, and the Source was towering above her, rubbing his hands together in barely contained anticipation, and she lay there, unmoving, crying, weeping...}}

Her loud gasp echoed around the empty room, and the Source knew her powers were coming back. Good. He needed her at her best for what was to come.

He let her recover her breath a bit, just enough for her to listen to him above her labored breathing.

"I won't hurt her. Not if you agree to serve me".

Phoebe gasped and heaved, the air sucked out of her lungs at the power of the premonition. It was real, and it was going to happen, unless she did something!.

{Cole, help me!}.

"The traitor cannot hear you. There is no connection between the Underworld and the Surface".

She moaned, as she realized he could *indeed* hear her thoughts. She needed to save her daughter... she knew it was a daughter, could feel it in the soft glow that emanated from her belly. She was still too small to understand, too little to realize the danger they were in---

No, no... but she could see no other way out. It was this, or the death of her daughter.

"How can I trust you?".

"You can not. But it is the only chance I am offering you. Take it, or leave it".

Had things been different, Phoebe wouldn't have hesitated. Had it been only her, she would've chosen to die. She knew her powers weren't meant for evil. And she wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing her beg for her life.

But it wasn't just her anymore. Things would never be the same, not with the child growing in her womb...

Her daughter. Her daughter, *and* Cole's.

{Oh, Cole. If only you were here}.

If only he knew... if only he knew she was pregnant... any other time and place, it would've been wonderful news. Now, she felt as a heavy load settled upon her small shoulders, and she wept.

Wept, because she knew what her choice would be.

Wept for what she would become.

Because her daughter would not die. Not now, not ever. Not when she had the chance to keep her alive. She was her innocent now, and she clung to the mission set upon her from the day she was born.

Protect the innocent was her destiny. Protect the innocent she would.

Even if it meant loosing a Witch, and rejecting her Call.

{Goodbye, Piper. Goodbye, Paige. Goodbye, Cole, my love}.

She looked up to the dark ceiling, and missed the caress of the sun--- and gave in.

"Okay".

One word. One word is all the Source needed. If the witch gave in voluntarily, there was nothing the Powers that Be could ever do to take her back. Phoebe Halliwell was his, from this moment on.

The irony of it all... he had forgotten how sentimental humans could be. How feelings controlled their actions. Had he remembered it sooner, he may have been able to create a whole army of turned witches!.

"Good. I will mark you now, so that you never forget who your master is".

And before she could react, before she could stop him, before she could even blink, he was upon her, and his shadow embraced her, and Phoebe screamed in pain.

Because whatever fell under the Source's shadow, became his forever.

She cried in silence, as an inverted triangle appeared with a flash of fire in her right forearm, the smell of scorched flesh reaching her nostrils. Her own flesh. Burnt. Marked. Scarred.

{But you're safe, my baby. At least you're safe, my Prue}.

And the name felt right, and for a second, she thought she saw Prue smiling down on her, and stretching out her arms at her, welcoming her in---

Phoebe quailed. She wasn't worthy anymore.

She had struck a deal with the Devil, and bore his mark as proof.

She wasn't worthy of her sisters anymore.

She wasn't worthy of Cole's love.

She was a cast away.

She was dead.


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TBc...