** Change of Heart **, chapter 5: Acceptance
by Lilian.
lilian413@yahoo.com
AN: I'm placing 'Black as Cole' about a month after 'Enter the Demon'. That would make Phoebe about a month into her pregnancy when this story started. Keep that in mind, okay?.
Please review!
**********************************
It had been two months already. Two months Paige would give anything to forget. Two months of questions, interrogations and intrusions--- some friends of Phoebe's, seeing as she had missed some long-term appointment, had called the police.
And the police had broken into a silent house.
A house where one of the occupants had been missing for a month, and no 'missing person' had being reported. And this aroused suspicions. Because the 1329 Prescott house had always been strange. Neighbors reported late night screaming, and sudden power outrages, and blinking lights when there was nobody around... the manor had become a late night story for children.
'Eat your dinner, or the witches across the street might come and get you'.
How right they were.
And at the same time, so wrong.
Piper and Cole were in no condition to be answering the officer's questions. And that rendered them as suspects. Paige had to use most of her looks and pub-tricks to get officer Noisy's attention away from the fuming eldest sister.
Piper had been *this* close to blowing him up.
Leo had to physically restrain Cole, to keep him from hurting a police officer.
Attracting attention to themselves was the least they needed right now.
Things were quieter these days, the initial shock already gone, leaving behind only pain and acceptance. The police had filed a report, and Phoebe's name had been added to the thousands of others that remained as 'Unsolved Cases'.
Because, as far as the police knew, the girl was still alive.
They couldn't tell them they knew she was dead. That the Powers That Be had confirmed her gone, and that Cole's blood shot eyes were not because of drugs, but because he cried himself to sleep every night, now could they?.
Phoebe's past helped to settle them down too.
She had a history. She had a record. Child delinquent, juvenile delinquent, and they traced her steps all the way back to New York, in which they found several pending arrest orders with her name on them.
And they decided the girl had a million reasons to want to dissappear.
Fools.
They had no idea.
There had been no more calls for a week now. No more 'Ms. Halliwell has been seen' somewhere in the US. No more interviews about whether they believed their family to be cursed or not. No more reporters trying to get an exclusive with the family with the worst luck in all San Francisco.
And Paige was thankful.
Besides, there were other matters that demanded their undivided attention.
Like Leo's whackout plan, for example.
When he first brought up the idea, Paige had almost slapped him. How dare he say those things, when Phoebe's body was still cooling down somewhere?.
But the soft-spoken whitelighter had insisted.
And after the first half an hour of discussion, the idea didn't seem so bad.
Because Paige had grown to like Phoebe. Her older sister, (she had sisters!), had received her with her arms open, and a smile on her face. And they had gone through a lot together... they had switched bodies, for crying out loud!.
And Phoebe hadn't seemed *that* angry... not Piper-angry, anyway.
Phoebe was the older sister Paige had always wanted to have. Outgoing, carefree, ready to jump at anything that came their way--- Paige really looked up to her. Sure, Piper was the oldest one, and hence, the most serious... but Paige was still young, and she needed a friend more than a mentor.
So, when Leo had brought back the news of her demise, it was like she had lost a part of herself. Because with Prue--- well, she never had really *met* her, she had just felt the loss through their blood. But Phoebe, Phoebe she had known, and she had cared for, and she had loved...
And it hurt.
It hurt more than she remembered.
That's why she had finally agreed with Leo's plan.
To avenge her. To make whatever demon who killed her, suffer.
Because Leo wanted to keep on fighting.
A few days after--- it had happened, he had called them all into the living room, and made a proposition so bizarre, it had blown them all away.
Paige had just assumed that with Phoebe gone, their Charmed duty had gone out the window. But Leo had suggested they go on, fighting in Phoebe's memory.
"Are you out of your freaking mind?".
Cole's voice still retained some of it's old quality. The richness that had made Paige's knees wobble when she first met him.
"Cole, just listen to him".
They were two against two. Piper and Cole refused to even consider the idea. Paige and Leo had discussed it earlier, and were trying to convince them now.
"I don't have to listen to anything. I will not fight. Period".
Piper didn't say anything, but her body language was screaming 'no'.
"Think about all the innocents that still need protection".
They were running out of arguments, and the opposing couple seemed no more convinced than when they had started.
"I'm a *demon*, Leo. Demons kill. Demons do not save people".
His body was slouched against the fireplace, his back towards them. His fists against the wall, his head hiding between his arms. It had been a slow path to recovery... a path he still sometimes strayed off, and delayed his recuperation.
"Phoebe didn't believe that".
Cole's reaction to her name was pained, to say the least. His whole body stiffened, his eyes shut close, and his teeth bit his bottom lip to avoid screaming.
Her name had become both a prayer and a curse for him.
And Paige knew it. And she knew the best way to convince him, was to make him realize this is what Phoebe would've wanted.
"Phoebe's *dead*, Paige. That was her reward for saving innocents. Death!".
Leo's hand on Paige's shoulder prevented her from shaking some sense into Cole. He shook his head, and she had to refrain herself, knowing by now that Leo understood and knew more things that he let anyone into.
"I think that what Paige's trying to say, is that this is what Phoebe would've liked us to do".
Leo had seen where Paige was going. And he also understood Cole's seemingly mean disposition towards her. Paige reminded him of Phoebe. More so than Piper ever would.
The two youngest were very much alike.
As the two oldest once were.
That statement, with all the truth it carried, cut through Cole's misery, and actually made sense. But he remained quiet, struggling with his own pain. He wasn't sure if he was ready to alleviate other's as well.
"What do the Elders say?".
It was the first time Piper had spoken, ever since they had gathered together. And her voice was strained, and devoid of any emotion. Because it hurt too much to feel.
"They don't approve. They say your destiny was thwarted, and that you are no longer in need of a whitelighter, or their assistance for that matter".
Magical words.
Because, just like a child who finds a thrill in doing what's forbidden, so did Piper. Especially with those that had royally screwed up her life.
She had held a grudge against them for a long time. Ever since Leo had died in her arms, albeit the power switch she had done. They were the cause for much pain, and little gain. They demanded a lot, and gave so little... she had only kept up with them because it was the only way they knew.
But frankly, she had *had* it.
Maybe it was time they took control of their own lives--- it took two deaths for her to realize that the Charmed Ones were above councils and elders. They had survived for three years, alive and unharmed.
And when they tried to tighten the reins, things had gone downhill.
Natalie's face still haunted her dreams sometimes.
Along with Prue's and Phoebe's these days. Because, just what was different about her that kept her alive?. What was so special about good old Piper, that had made her survive what her sisters could not?.
As far as she was concerned, a whole lot of coincidences.
And if now, she could make Phoebe's death a little less painful, by punishing those who had killed her, and at the same time defy the orders of those who loved to play with their lives, then so be it.
"I'm in".
Paige's raised eyebrows were prominent in the room. Probably a trait she inherited from Sam, since none of the Halliwells could do it.
"You are?".
Leo's smile said thank you in more ways than one. And Piper realized she had, once again, pushed him away. She really had to stop doing that... Leo was only the messenger. And she had developed a habit out of killing him.
She smiled back at him, hesitantly, unsure whether she was ready to be smiling again. Unsure about she was worthy to be smiling again. As she slowly nodded, she vowed to herself that she would protect them with her life.
Protect all the family she had left.
"Fine, then. I'm in too".
There was only one reason why Cole accepted. Only one reason why he had gone against every single cell in his being, which screamed at him to walk away. And again, it had a name.
Phoebe.
He had promised her he would watch over her sisters. Over her family.
On one of the rare occasions in which her worries seemed to get the best out of her, Phoebe had made him promise he would take care of them. Because she understood Cole was immortal, and she was not.
Sure, he had planned to remain as the old, creepy uncle who sometimes came to visit. An ageless companion, watching over a family that would whisper his name in hushed tones, and call him their guardian angel.
Demons were not without a sense of irony.
He had expected to return every seven years, to see how they were doing. It was strange, how he, with his almost eternal life span, thought more about the future that Phoebe ever did. But he had expected that task to be delayed several decades, if he had anything to do with it.
He hadn't.
Phoebe had been taken away from him, whisked out of his grasp, and killed.
Killed.
He understood death. He had killed many, back in the old days. Tortured several hundreds, and enjoyed every single one of them. But he had never experienced this.
The consuming, bottomless pit of pain.
He didn't understand why it hurt so much. Was it worth loving her, knowing she would die long before he would?. And not old, and happy in her own bed, as he had wished... but tortured, and suffering, in God knows where?.
Yes, it was.
It was definitely worthy.
'it's better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all'
Yeah, right. But nowhere in that saying did it explain how to deal with the consequences. How to pick up the pieces, and move on.
Maybe this way his way out.
Maybe this was how he could finally find redemption, and meet her on the other side.
That's why he had accepted.
Because maybe, just maybe, this would earn him an eternity with her.
*************************
She had lost track of time a long time ago. Her watch had stopped running the second she had been shimmered down here, human batteries not made to handle the heavy amounts of energy running loose through the place.
But she was betting it had been like seven weeks. Give or take.
Seven weeks, in which she had been learning.
Practicing.
And right now, they were back on the training field.
She was much stronger now. Ever since she had bonded with the Source, the nausea had disappeared, and the continuous feeling of weariness had vanished. She was back to her old self. Almost.
Her belly was beginning to swell. And even if she sworn to herself, as she had watched so many expecting mothers doing back when she was on the Surface, that she would never caress her belly in that circular, slow motion, she found herself doing it quite often.
It was relaxing.
Prue's little body was growing inside of her, safe and sound with the Source's energy running through her. And she thanked the Gods above for the wonders of placenta. Because it was *her* placenta, designed and crafted with her DNA, that protected her baby from harm.
The Source could not taint her daughter until she was born.
And she was thankful for that. She would worry about the premonition she had when the time came.
"Focus, Phax".
She had chosen that name. She had denied her own name, since the day she had given in. Phoebe Halliwell was dead. It was time for Phax to come forward. She needed a name short enough to be remembered easily, and powerful enough to be remembered by everyone who dared speak it that it heralded death. So, she mixed her own name, with the one of the demon she hated the most.
Shax.
Shax had taken from her something she held very dear. And ingrained himself in her mind in the process.
And so Phax had been born. Out of the ashes of a demon and a Witch. Neither and none.
She wasn't a witch turned into a demon. She wasn't a demon turned from a Witch. She was different. She was a lost soul, seeking vengeance for what wrongs had been made upon her. Which, by the way, were too many to count.
A black fireball hit her square in the legs, throwing her off balance, and onto the ground. It would hurt for the next days... until her healing abilities kicked in and took care of it.
"I said, *focus*".
She rolled once she hit the ground, and sprang back up on her feet. Which was getting harder as days went by, as her gravity center shifted from her belly button and down to her hips and upper legs.
"All right, all right. I hear you".
It was just her luck, working against her again. Not only was she being trained by the Source himself, but she had to be *pregnant* during the whole thing!.
"Do not be distracted. They will kill you if you hesitate".
She looked at him, knowing that he spoke the truth. How had he survived for so long, if not without extreme caution and care?.
"Now, try again".
She breathed deeply, as she tried to get her energy to gather.
Since the baby within her was still growing, it would be dangerous for her to try teleportation magic. Broken molecules, and all. So, the Source had decided to teach her fireballs, instead.
Not that he had much luck at it, but still.
She closed her eyes, and stretched out her hand.
"Open your eyes. What is the use of firing energy balls if you can not see your enemy?".
She snorted at the irony of it all. Here she was, being trained by the most powerful enemy she had ever had to face, and even *he* could find blips in her technique.
"Cut me some slack, would you?. I'm new at this!".
The Source shimmered, and reappeared within inches of her, towering over her like a dark shadow of doom. Which he actually *was*, but that's beside the point.
"I will not have you slipping. My personal assassin must be deadly and accurate. At this point, you're neither".
Phoebe's lips tightened into one thin, taut line, and her eyes flared up... as the Source's power flowed through her, it also gave her some of his short temper.
"We began practicing today!. I've just had a few hours to try and master a technique that takes others years to learn!. How in the name of God do you expect me to summon a stupid fireball just like THAT!".
Her last word was accentuated with a loud crash on the other side of the room, as a fireball exploded against the furthest wall. Phoebe shrieked at the sound of it, surprised.
Only then did she realize the Source hadn't moved. And that the same hand she had stretched out earlier, was now pointing to the very same wall that had being hit.
Amazed, she brought her hand back, and examined her fingers.
Not a burn, not a scratch.
"I sense great power in you, Phax. Do not waste it in lame excuses like that".
Lame?. Lame??. She had just fired a fireball, for Christ's sake!. She, who had never had an active power before, had thrown a fireball!. With actual fire!.
Ecstatic, her eyes glowed in the dark, her long fingernails gleaming with candlelight.
"Again".
She only nodded this time, not daring to cross him again.
She focused, and stretched her fingers, creating a vortex in between her fingers. Like he had taught her, she slowly let it gather, letting it flow through her, summoning the energy that lay dormant around her...
There was a little spark that went off right above her palm.
And a cattish grin danced through her lips, as it grew, and gained strength and power.
"Another one".
Slowly, never once looking away from her right hand, she raised her left one. And repeated the process. It was slower this time, both from the concentration the first one demanded, and the fact that she was right handed, and her left side had always been sloppier.
But in the end, she did it anyway.
And the satisfaction was enormous, as she slowly handled them, still afraid of getting burnt. Fire was not to be meddled with lightly. She had learnt that much the first few hundred times. Her combusted hair was all the proof she needed.
She had wanted to cut it, anyway.
"Mix them".
She had almost forgotten he was around... she had grown used to his presence. It was like clothing: in the morning, when you first put them on, they itch all over. Once your body gets used to it, you don't feel it any longer.
Her eyes shinning with the flames in her hands, she brought them together.
They sizzled as they made contact, and seemed resistant.
She pushed on, forcing them to mix.
The blast hit her right on the chest.
When the two fireballs came in contact, they exploded in a bright flash of light. The smell of burnt skin reached her nostrils, and it was only when she looked down that she realized it was her own. Luckily, since she had burnt her clothing a long time ago, she had been brought some demonic uniform.
And it was flame resistant.
Her fingers ached and stung--- the palms and fingertips burnt. It wasn't fatal, but it would hurt like hell for days. No healing factor could cure this fast enough.
"Never mix right and left. Throw one, and then the other. Or this will happen".
She looked up to the Source, who lounged in the far side of the room, standing. Now that she thought of it, she had never seen him sitting, or leaning on anything--- didn't he get backaches?.
"Couldn't have told me sooner?".
He smirked, and even from across the room, she heard his chuckle.
"What would be the fun, then?".
She made a face at him, and stood up. Strangely, none of her injuries were located around her midsection. She blamed it on him. Probably put a protection spell or something, around her belly. Good.
Little Prue was safe. Safe from her mistakes.
"Ready for more?".
She knew better than to ask for a time out. Cole hadn't given her one. Neither would the Source. Or any other enemy she would ever face, for that matter. Demons took training as seriously as they did real fighting--- probably why they lived so long.
She took a deep breath, and nodded.
And she went on practicing.
Learning.
Improving.
She would need it for when the time came.
**************************
Tbc....
by Lilian.
lilian413@yahoo.com
AN: I'm placing 'Black as Cole' about a month after 'Enter the Demon'. That would make Phoebe about a month into her pregnancy when this story started. Keep that in mind, okay?.
Please review!
**********************************
It had been two months already. Two months Paige would give anything to forget. Two months of questions, interrogations and intrusions--- some friends of Phoebe's, seeing as she had missed some long-term appointment, had called the police.
And the police had broken into a silent house.
A house where one of the occupants had been missing for a month, and no 'missing person' had being reported. And this aroused suspicions. Because the 1329 Prescott house had always been strange. Neighbors reported late night screaming, and sudden power outrages, and blinking lights when there was nobody around... the manor had become a late night story for children.
'Eat your dinner, or the witches across the street might come and get you'.
How right they were.
And at the same time, so wrong.
Piper and Cole were in no condition to be answering the officer's questions. And that rendered them as suspects. Paige had to use most of her looks and pub-tricks to get officer Noisy's attention away from the fuming eldest sister.
Piper had been *this* close to blowing him up.
Leo had to physically restrain Cole, to keep him from hurting a police officer.
Attracting attention to themselves was the least they needed right now.
Things were quieter these days, the initial shock already gone, leaving behind only pain and acceptance. The police had filed a report, and Phoebe's name had been added to the thousands of others that remained as 'Unsolved Cases'.
Because, as far as the police knew, the girl was still alive.
They couldn't tell them they knew she was dead. That the Powers That Be had confirmed her gone, and that Cole's blood shot eyes were not because of drugs, but because he cried himself to sleep every night, now could they?.
Phoebe's past helped to settle them down too.
She had a history. She had a record. Child delinquent, juvenile delinquent, and they traced her steps all the way back to New York, in which they found several pending arrest orders with her name on them.
And they decided the girl had a million reasons to want to dissappear.
Fools.
They had no idea.
There had been no more calls for a week now. No more 'Ms. Halliwell has been seen' somewhere in the US. No more interviews about whether they believed their family to be cursed or not. No more reporters trying to get an exclusive with the family with the worst luck in all San Francisco.
And Paige was thankful.
Besides, there were other matters that demanded their undivided attention.
Like Leo's whackout plan, for example.
When he first brought up the idea, Paige had almost slapped him. How dare he say those things, when Phoebe's body was still cooling down somewhere?.
But the soft-spoken whitelighter had insisted.
And after the first half an hour of discussion, the idea didn't seem so bad.
Because Paige had grown to like Phoebe. Her older sister, (she had sisters!), had received her with her arms open, and a smile on her face. And they had gone through a lot together... they had switched bodies, for crying out loud!.
And Phoebe hadn't seemed *that* angry... not Piper-angry, anyway.
Phoebe was the older sister Paige had always wanted to have. Outgoing, carefree, ready to jump at anything that came their way--- Paige really looked up to her. Sure, Piper was the oldest one, and hence, the most serious... but Paige was still young, and she needed a friend more than a mentor.
So, when Leo had brought back the news of her demise, it was like she had lost a part of herself. Because with Prue--- well, she never had really *met* her, she had just felt the loss through their blood. But Phoebe, Phoebe she had known, and she had cared for, and she had loved...
And it hurt.
It hurt more than she remembered.
That's why she had finally agreed with Leo's plan.
To avenge her. To make whatever demon who killed her, suffer.
Because Leo wanted to keep on fighting.
A few days after--- it had happened, he had called them all into the living room, and made a proposition so bizarre, it had blown them all away.
Paige had just assumed that with Phoebe gone, their Charmed duty had gone out the window. But Leo had suggested they go on, fighting in Phoebe's memory.
"Are you out of your freaking mind?".
Cole's voice still retained some of it's old quality. The richness that had made Paige's knees wobble when she first met him.
"Cole, just listen to him".
They were two against two. Piper and Cole refused to even consider the idea. Paige and Leo had discussed it earlier, and were trying to convince them now.
"I don't have to listen to anything. I will not fight. Period".
Piper didn't say anything, but her body language was screaming 'no'.
"Think about all the innocents that still need protection".
They were running out of arguments, and the opposing couple seemed no more convinced than when they had started.
"I'm a *demon*, Leo. Demons kill. Demons do not save people".
His body was slouched against the fireplace, his back towards them. His fists against the wall, his head hiding between his arms. It had been a slow path to recovery... a path he still sometimes strayed off, and delayed his recuperation.
"Phoebe didn't believe that".
Cole's reaction to her name was pained, to say the least. His whole body stiffened, his eyes shut close, and his teeth bit his bottom lip to avoid screaming.
Her name had become both a prayer and a curse for him.
And Paige knew it. And she knew the best way to convince him, was to make him realize this is what Phoebe would've wanted.
"Phoebe's *dead*, Paige. That was her reward for saving innocents. Death!".
Leo's hand on Paige's shoulder prevented her from shaking some sense into Cole. He shook his head, and she had to refrain herself, knowing by now that Leo understood and knew more things that he let anyone into.
"I think that what Paige's trying to say, is that this is what Phoebe would've liked us to do".
Leo had seen where Paige was going. And he also understood Cole's seemingly mean disposition towards her. Paige reminded him of Phoebe. More so than Piper ever would.
The two youngest were very much alike.
As the two oldest once were.
That statement, with all the truth it carried, cut through Cole's misery, and actually made sense. But he remained quiet, struggling with his own pain. He wasn't sure if he was ready to alleviate other's as well.
"What do the Elders say?".
It was the first time Piper had spoken, ever since they had gathered together. And her voice was strained, and devoid of any emotion. Because it hurt too much to feel.
"They don't approve. They say your destiny was thwarted, and that you are no longer in need of a whitelighter, or their assistance for that matter".
Magical words.
Because, just like a child who finds a thrill in doing what's forbidden, so did Piper. Especially with those that had royally screwed up her life.
She had held a grudge against them for a long time. Ever since Leo had died in her arms, albeit the power switch she had done. They were the cause for much pain, and little gain. They demanded a lot, and gave so little... she had only kept up with them because it was the only way they knew.
But frankly, she had *had* it.
Maybe it was time they took control of their own lives--- it took two deaths for her to realize that the Charmed Ones were above councils and elders. They had survived for three years, alive and unharmed.
And when they tried to tighten the reins, things had gone downhill.
Natalie's face still haunted her dreams sometimes.
Along with Prue's and Phoebe's these days. Because, just what was different about her that kept her alive?. What was so special about good old Piper, that had made her survive what her sisters could not?.
As far as she was concerned, a whole lot of coincidences.
And if now, she could make Phoebe's death a little less painful, by punishing those who had killed her, and at the same time defy the orders of those who loved to play with their lives, then so be it.
"I'm in".
Paige's raised eyebrows were prominent in the room. Probably a trait she inherited from Sam, since none of the Halliwells could do it.
"You are?".
Leo's smile said thank you in more ways than one. And Piper realized she had, once again, pushed him away. She really had to stop doing that... Leo was only the messenger. And she had developed a habit out of killing him.
She smiled back at him, hesitantly, unsure whether she was ready to be smiling again. Unsure about she was worthy to be smiling again. As she slowly nodded, she vowed to herself that she would protect them with her life.
Protect all the family she had left.
"Fine, then. I'm in too".
There was only one reason why Cole accepted. Only one reason why he had gone against every single cell in his being, which screamed at him to walk away. And again, it had a name.
Phoebe.
He had promised her he would watch over her sisters. Over her family.
On one of the rare occasions in which her worries seemed to get the best out of her, Phoebe had made him promise he would take care of them. Because she understood Cole was immortal, and she was not.
Sure, he had planned to remain as the old, creepy uncle who sometimes came to visit. An ageless companion, watching over a family that would whisper his name in hushed tones, and call him their guardian angel.
Demons were not without a sense of irony.
He had expected to return every seven years, to see how they were doing. It was strange, how he, with his almost eternal life span, thought more about the future that Phoebe ever did. But he had expected that task to be delayed several decades, if he had anything to do with it.
He hadn't.
Phoebe had been taken away from him, whisked out of his grasp, and killed.
Killed.
He understood death. He had killed many, back in the old days. Tortured several hundreds, and enjoyed every single one of them. But he had never experienced this.
The consuming, bottomless pit of pain.
He didn't understand why it hurt so much. Was it worth loving her, knowing she would die long before he would?. And not old, and happy in her own bed, as he had wished... but tortured, and suffering, in God knows where?.
Yes, it was.
It was definitely worthy.
'it's better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all'
Yeah, right. But nowhere in that saying did it explain how to deal with the consequences. How to pick up the pieces, and move on.
Maybe this way his way out.
Maybe this was how he could finally find redemption, and meet her on the other side.
That's why he had accepted.
Because maybe, just maybe, this would earn him an eternity with her.
*************************
She had lost track of time a long time ago. Her watch had stopped running the second she had been shimmered down here, human batteries not made to handle the heavy amounts of energy running loose through the place.
But she was betting it had been like seven weeks. Give or take.
Seven weeks, in which she had been learning.
Practicing.
And right now, they were back on the training field.
She was much stronger now. Ever since she had bonded with the Source, the nausea had disappeared, and the continuous feeling of weariness had vanished. She was back to her old self. Almost.
Her belly was beginning to swell. And even if she sworn to herself, as she had watched so many expecting mothers doing back when she was on the Surface, that she would never caress her belly in that circular, slow motion, she found herself doing it quite often.
It was relaxing.
Prue's little body was growing inside of her, safe and sound with the Source's energy running through her. And she thanked the Gods above for the wonders of placenta. Because it was *her* placenta, designed and crafted with her DNA, that protected her baby from harm.
The Source could not taint her daughter until she was born.
And she was thankful for that. She would worry about the premonition she had when the time came.
"Focus, Phax".
She had chosen that name. She had denied her own name, since the day she had given in. Phoebe Halliwell was dead. It was time for Phax to come forward. She needed a name short enough to be remembered easily, and powerful enough to be remembered by everyone who dared speak it that it heralded death. So, she mixed her own name, with the one of the demon she hated the most.
Shax.
Shax had taken from her something she held very dear. And ingrained himself in her mind in the process.
And so Phax had been born. Out of the ashes of a demon and a Witch. Neither and none.
She wasn't a witch turned into a demon. She wasn't a demon turned from a Witch. She was different. She was a lost soul, seeking vengeance for what wrongs had been made upon her. Which, by the way, were too many to count.
A black fireball hit her square in the legs, throwing her off balance, and onto the ground. It would hurt for the next days... until her healing abilities kicked in and took care of it.
"I said, *focus*".
She rolled once she hit the ground, and sprang back up on her feet. Which was getting harder as days went by, as her gravity center shifted from her belly button and down to her hips and upper legs.
"All right, all right. I hear you".
It was just her luck, working against her again. Not only was she being trained by the Source himself, but she had to be *pregnant* during the whole thing!.
"Do not be distracted. They will kill you if you hesitate".
She looked at him, knowing that he spoke the truth. How had he survived for so long, if not without extreme caution and care?.
"Now, try again".
She breathed deeply, as she tried to get her energy to gather.
Since the baby within her was still growing, it would be dangerous for her to try teleportation magic. Broken molecules, and all. So, the Source had decided to teach her fireballs, instead.
Not that he had much luck at it, but still.
She closed her eyes, and stretched out her hand.
"Open your eyes. What is the use of firing energy balls if you can not see your enemy?".
She snorted at the irony of it all. Here she was, being trained by the most powerful enemy she had ever had to face, and even *he* could find blips in her technique.
"Cut me some slack, would you?. I'm new at this!".
The Source shimmered, and reappeared within inches of her, towering over her like a dark shadow of doom. Which he actually *was*, but that's beside the point.
"I will not have you slipping. My personal assassin must be deadly and accurate. At this point, you're neither".
Phoebe's lips tightened into one thin, taut line, and her eyes flared up... as the Source's power flowed through her, it also gave her some of his short temper.
"We began practicing today!. I've just had a few hours to try and master a technique that takes others years to learn!. How in the name of God do you expect me to summon a stupid fireball just like THAT!".
Her last word was accentuated with a loud crash on the other side of the room, as a fireball exploded against the furthest wall. Phoebe shrieked at the sound of it, surprised.
Only then did she realize the Source hadn't moved. And that the same hand she had stretched out earlier, was now pointing to the very same wall that had being hit.
Amazed, she brought her hand back, and examined her fingers.
Not a burn, not a scratch.
"I sense great power in you, Phax. Do not waste it in lame excuses like that".
Lame?. Lame??. She had just fired a fireball, for Christ's sake!. She, who had never had an active power before, had thrown a fireball!. With actual fire!.
Ecstatic, her eyes glowed in the dark, her long fingernails gleaming with candlelight.
"Again".
She only nodded this time, not daring to cross him again.
She focused, and stretched her fingers, creating a vortex in between her fingers. Like he had taught her, she slowly let it gather, letting it flow through her, summoning the energy that lay dormant around her...
There was a little spark that went off right above her palm.
And a cattish grin danced through her lips, as it grew, and gained strength and power.
"Another one".
Slowly, never once looking away from her right hand, she raised her left one. And repeated the process. It was slower this time, both from the concentration the first one demanded, and the fact that she was right handed, and her left side had always been sloppier.
But in the end, she did it anyway.
And the satisfaction was enormous, as she slowly handled them, still afraid of getting burnt. Fire was not to be meddled with lightly. She had learnt that much the first few hundred times. Her combusted hair was all the proof she needed.
She had wanted to cut it, anyway.
"Mix them".
She had almost forgotten he was around... she had grown used to his presence. It was like clothing: in the morning, when you first put them on, they itch all over. Once your body gets used to it, you don't feel it any longer.
Her eyes shinning with the flames in her hands, she brought them together.
They sizzled as they made contact, and seemed resistant.
She pushed on, forcing them to mix.
The blast hit her right on the chest.
When the two fireballs came in contact, they exploded in a bright flash of light. The smell of burnt skin reached her nostrils, and it was only when she looked down that she realized it was her own. Luckily, since she had burnt her clothing a long time ago, she had been brought some demonic uniform.
And it was flame resistant.
Her fingers ached and stung--- the palms and fingertips burnt. It wasn't fatal, but it would hurt like hell for days. No healing factor could cure this fast enough.
"Never mix right and left. Throw one, and then the other. Or this will happen".
She looked up to the Source, who lounged in the far side of the room, standing. Now that she thought of it, she had never seen him sitting, or leaning on anything--- didn't he get backaches?.
"Couldn't have told me sooner?".
He smirked, and even from across the room, she heard his chuckle.
"What would be the fun, then?".
She made a face at him, and stood up. Strangely, none of her injuries were located around her midsection. She blamed it on him. Probably put a protection spell or something, around her belly. Good.
Little Prue was safe. Safe from her mistakes.
"Ready for more?".
She knew better than to ask for a time out. Cole hadn't given her one. Neither would the Source. Or any other enemy she would ever face, for that matter. Demons took training as seriously as they did real fighting--- probably why they lived so long.
She took a deep breath, and nodded.
And she went on practicing.
Learning.
Improving.
She would need it for when the time came.
**************************
Tbc....
