** Change of Heart **, chapter 7: Birth...

by Lilian

lilian413@yahoo.com

AN: So, I guess all of you know what's happening in this chapter, right?. Guess again, dear readers. Mine is an evil mind... :p

To all my wonderful reviewers: I think I'm becoming addicted to your words... I think I'm the happiest fanfic writer in the world, for having you as my amazing readers. And keep reviewing, because I read each and every one of them. Several times.

And then my Muse get all egomaniac, and decides to inspire me some more. :p

AN2: Warning. This chapter made me cry while I wrote it. That was a first. i'll give it an 'R', just to be safe, okay?

AN3: okay, before you go any further. You've heard the news, right?. Julian will be written off 'Charmed', unless we do something about it. So, get your finger clicking, and go to www.thecharmedones.com, and find out what you can do prevent this catastrophe!. Write a letter. Send an email. Sign the petition. Julian MUST stay!.

Go, what are you waiting for?.

Did it?. Cool, now you can read on.



********************************


"Here these words.
Hear my cry, spirit from the other side.
Come to me, I summon thee.
Cross now the Great Divide."

As wind began blowing through the attic, Paige tried again.

"Piper, don't you think we're overreacting a little?".

The Eldest Halliwell kept on tapping her foot on the ground, waiting impatiently for the orbing lights to solidify into one of four familiar frames.

"No, we're not. It was real, Paige, I'm telling you".

Paige sighed loudly, and walked to her, trying to draw her into a comforting hug.

"Honey, it was just a nightmare".

Piper turned to look at her younger sister, and uttered three simple words, that she knew to be true.

"No, it wasn't".

They were all still in their pajamas, well, except for Cole of course, who as far as Paige was concerned, never slept. She swore she had never seen him closing his eyes and just--- relaxing... not for a long time. And besides, appearing in the attic in his PJ's would break the glamour of shimmering in.

Leo had no problem with that, though. His tousled hair, and sleepy eyes talked of sudden awakening, as Piper had bolted up in bed, whispering something about a lost soul and a broken promise, and ran upstairs.

He leaned against a wall, behind Piper, fighting off the last tendrils of sleep, as Penny Halliwell's form appeared in the middle of the candle circle.

"My darlings".

Penelope had always had a deep voice, which brought memories of cooking lessons and bedtime stories for Piper, and a hint of jealousy to Paige, who had never known her grandmother, until she was dead and buried for a couple of years.

"Why didn't you come when I called you before?".

Piper's voice was accusing and demanding an answer. When Phoebe had first disappeared, she had tried to contact someone, anyone from up there-- to no avail. It was as if the connection had been broken, and their call was interrupted before it reached Heaven.

"They wouldn't let me".

Cole rose from his position by the farthest wall, and approached the hovering form of the powerful Witch.

"Why now?".

Penny looked at him, and even as ghost, had to fight the urge to cringe under his unyielding gaze. She had been watching from above, weeping on the inside, because her girls, her beautiful girls, were in pain, and there was nothing she could do to help them.

"Because they screwed up".

It hurt to admit she had let it happen. Not that there was much they could do about it, but she and Patty had been watching, and preparing to welcome Phoebe's soul into the afterlife--- except that she never came.

"Then it's true".

Piper's whisper was quiet, yet it still thundered across the room, disturbing decades of dust settling on old furniture.

"Yes".

She had to close her eyes, as she fought back the bile rising in her throat. Gods, she had been praying it was a nightmare!.

When she had dreamt about Phoebe, about her little baby sister, dead and still suffering in the Underworld, she had woken up sweating, a lump in her throat, and a quiet voice in her head, whispering to her it wasn't a nightmare.

It was the truth.

It had been exactly seven months, two weeks and four days since Phoebe had died. And if she concentrated hard enough, she could remember the number of hours too.

But also, for a long time now, she had not had any more nightmares.

It had seemed things were slowly, *very* slowly, going back to normal. As normal as they could ever get, with two deaths hanging over her head, as the proverbial Damocles sword.

But then, tonight--- she had blamed it on the late night snakcs. Too many tacos and so late--- but it seemed it wasn't just food indigestion.

It was the sisterly bond, still at work, telling her Phoebe was not resting in peace.

A sudden explosion rocked the entire house, and a gush of wind blew right past them. She did not need to open her eyes to realize Cole had just thrown an energy ball at the wall.

She could relate.

Anger was a very hard feeling to deal with--- it consumes you, eating you up from the inside, accumulating, growing... until it just explodes.

The problem was, in her and Cole's case, it exploded literally.

She kept her hands tight against her hips, fighting back the urge to blast something, (anything!).

"Damn him!. It was him, wasn't it?".

Penny just nodded slowly, wishing she had corporeal substance so she could cry along with her children.

"They said her soul got trapped in the Underworld. That there's no way to bring her back, except killing the Source".

Cole's form began shimmering, as he prepared himself for one last trip below, to kill the Source of all his pain. It would be the last thing he would ever do, because he *knew* the Source would be expecting him.

Paige's hand on his arm, and Penny's cry of 'wait!' kept him from fully teleporting.

"What?".

"You can't go".

His eyes flared up in anger, and there was bitterness in his voice as he spoke.

"Watch me".

Before he could shimmer away though, Paige tugged on his arm hard, and forced him to stay put. He only stopped because he knew that if he carried it through, he would take Paige with him, and he could not risk loosing another one of them.

"Cole, there is something you don't know yet".

"What is it?".

He was like a springboard--- taut, and just waiting for the weight that would break the balance, and send him into an adrenaline-induced frenzy.

His Phoebe, his beloved, was still in the hands of the Demon. Was still suffering, still in pain--- he wasn't sure what hurt the most. The idea than even in death she could not find the peace she so longed for, or the fact that he had been oblivious to all of this.

The fact that he had tried to carry on with his life, without making sure she was well. Without making sure she was in Heaven, getting the rest she so deserved.

{Phoebe...}

So stupid. How could he have been so stupid!. He should've known He wouldn't let her go that easily. Should've known the Source would get his revenge in spades. Should've anticipated this--- God, if he had been smart enough, she would have never died in the first place!.

He bit back the urge to slam his head against the wall. Maiming would be of no good now... he needed to come up with a plan to save her. Then, he could go on and kill himself.

*After* she was all right.

"There's a great disturbance coming. A commotion of magical forces, that have been gathering for some months now. It's going to go off at midnight--- and if it does while you're still down there, you will trapped, with no way out".

He gritted his teeth, fighting the feelings running rampant through his body. On one side, was the uncontrollable urge to just get it over with, shimmer down there, slit that bastard's throat and free his lover's soul. But then, who would protect her sisters?. Who would protect the family he had come to call his own in the past months?.

He would break his promise--- again.

"Fine. The second it blows away, I'm off".

Penny Halliwell only nodded, her heart telling her that Cole would have his mind on other things after midnight came.

It was a drag, knowing all of this, and not being able to tell them anything. Knowing how much they still had to suffer, how much they still had to endure--- and to keep it all to herself.

But she knew better than to speak up.

She understood why it had to happen. Realized that this was the only way their destinies could be fulfilled--- but it was such a great price to pay.

A price she wasn't sure her children were *ready* to pay.



*******************************************



She hadn't expected it to happen so soon.

She was only eight and a half months along. There were still two more weeks to go, according to her calculations. Fourteen days, time that she desperately needed, desperately wanted--- still so many things she needed to sort out--- but Prue was coming.

And Phoebe felt it with every fiber of her being.

Even after the Source had bound her premonitions, locking them up inside of her, telling her they were draining her dry, and would eventually kill her, she still retained some control over them.

She didn't get flashes anymore, but she could still feel when certain things were going to happen.

Not that she needed to be a Seer to realize what was going on right now, but still.

She was going into labor.

And she still had no clue, as to how to protect her little baby.

She gasped loudly, and clung onto the wall, trying to support herself up.

Gods, it hurt!.

Sweat ran down her forehead, as contractions rippled through her body, and immersed her in a world of pain.

{Not now, not yet...}

But, unyielding, little Prue kept pushing, impatient, restless--- she was coming out, whether her mother was ready or not.

She thanked whatever deity was watching down on her, that she had remained in her quarters today.
Usually, demons hung out up on the Surface, disguised under mortal masks and mortal money. But she knew the Source did not trust her enough to let her roam free on the world of the living.

Not yet, anyway.

So, she had stay down under, living in the shadows, missing the caress of the sun, and the soft spring breezes... it was probably summer in San Francisco, though.

She ground her teeth together, keeping the scream inside her throat.

She needed to be quiet, needed to be silent--- one cry out of her lips, and the Source would be onto her, and then all hope would be lost.

{Prue, please!}

The baby inside of her ignored her pleas, having made up her mind about coming out.

A particularly painful contraction hit her, and she slumped forward, doubling over, incapable of holding herself up.

God, the baby inside of her was a quarter demon, and she was showing it to the world!.

Stumbling, she made her way to the bed, and lay down on it, breathing heavily.

Her eyes glazed and lost, fixed on the ceiling above her, suddenly realizing maybe this would be too much for her.

She had never had a baby before, for crying out loud, and here she was, trapped in Hell, without any medical assistance whatsoever, and having one!.

She knew she could call someone--- anyone, and they would come. And they would help her--- but she couldn't do that. She would not let them take Prue. And for that, she would have to handle this alone.

The room tilted, and red spots danced in her vision, as a sizzling pain ran from her belly and into her limbs.

Gods, she was coming fast!.

She lay down on her back, trying to keep her upper chest raised--- what was she supposed to do?. She wasn't ready for this!. There were supposed to be doctors and nurses, and her mother, telling her what to do. Telling her to breathe deeply and evenly, to do what she had practiced in whatshisname's class---

Damn it!.

Her hands tightened into fists, grabbing handfuls of sheets into them. Luckily, she had just changed into her nightgowns, and her legs opened up on their own accord. Maybe her mind wasn't ready for this--- but females had been giving birth for thousands of years, before medicine and painkillers came along.

And Phoebe's soul was old, and had done this a million times before.

And it was getting ready to do it one more time.

She closed her eyes, trying to block everything out, to stop the tears from coming, and clouding her vision even more.

But it was useless.

The tears came, and she cried. She cried for her baby daughter, who would come to the world in Hell, and would surely be corrupted the second she opened her eyes. She cried for herself, because what was supposed to be the happiest day of her life, was turning out to be a disaster.

{Mommy}

She cried for her mother, who would never see her granddaughter. She cried because she needed her, and she wasn't there. She cried because she needed support, and there was no one around to give it to her.

Her sobs echoed around the chamber, resounding on the walls, and coming back at her, mocking her, laughing at her---

'You were always such a screw-up, Phoebe'

Damn it!. Where were they when she needed them?. Where were they now, when she was going to bleed to death, limp in a bed, and her daughter would be taken, and turned by Evil?.

Probably smooching some more, making out in her old bedroom, violating the sanctity of what she had always called hers'. Gods, how she hated them!.

Hated them with a passion so big, and a fire so high, it threatened to consume her, from the inside out.

{I gave you everything--- and you broke my heart with a smile in your face}.

She bit her lip to avoid screaming. The contractions were coming closer now... and from movies and magazines, she knew that meant the time was coming.

"I hate you!".

Her voice shook with agony, and as she tasted her own blood, rich and sweet and polluted, she felt more tears run down her cheeks.

She refused to say his name. To say it, would mean she acknowledged his existence, that she accepted the fact he had gotten her pregnant, and then screwed her older sister. To say it would bring back memories she would rather forget, because they represented everything she hated, everything she despised, and loads and loads of pain that just waited to pounce on her.

A lie.

It had all been a lie.

She cried softly, the sound keen and sharp, as she felt wetness seeping between her legs.

Her water must've broke.

She dared not look down. She did not want to see the blood pouring off her thighs, and staining the black sheets with its red tint.

Gods, she needed to push!. Wanted it all to be over--- and at the same time, needed it to stretch
on forever. Because if Prue was born, then all of her hopes would be over.

She was breathing rapidly, her breath coming in heavy pants, and her whole body was taut and vibrating, preparing, adjusting for the moment of birth.

And she didn't know what to do, and cried once again, because maybe she wasn't going to make it. And if she died now, so would her little baby. Her little baby, who was now ripping her insides out, trying to come into a world that awaited her impatiently.

{now}

She never knew if the voice in her head was real. Never knew who had spoken so softly in the back of her mind, she had almost missed it.

And she never asked really, because she also knew it was time.

Taking a deep breath, she gathered her energy, and pushed.

And things seemed to slow down, and everything turned fuzzy, and she felt detached, and incorporeal, and just--- not there.

It seemed it was someone else who was giving birth. Strength that was not her own empowered her, spreading all over her tired body, and giving it the last ounce of energy it needed.

There was no more pain, and everything was just so *slow*, and seconds seemed to roll by, lazy, and indolent, passing her by almost as an afterthought...

And it suddenly all came back in a rush, as if making up for the lost time.

And she cried out, screaming, as Prudence Halliwell came into the world.



***********************************



"Did you feel that?".

Still up in the attic, just by the strike of midnight, Cole's head snapped up, as a distant cry pierced his ears.

"What?".

As the old pendulum clock downstairs began it's slow count up to the twelve hour, Cole heard it again.

"That".

Paige squinted her eyes, and she tried to listen. Cole's demonic hearing was far more developed than theirs was, but she tried her best to make out what had caused him to snap out of his self-induced trance.

"I don't hear anything".

Leo and Piper nodded slowly, neither of them hearing anything either.

"It was like--- a baby crying".

He walked a few steps, but the sound was coming from nowhere in particular--- except from his own mind.

"You sure?".

And as quickly as it had come, it stopped. And Cole questioned his sanity, because he realized the noise had indeed come from inside his head. It explained why none of the others seemed to hear it.

"Not really".

He tried to concentrate, expanding his senses, trying to find the source of the wailing... but it was as if it had never been there in the first place. There were no traces of magic in the air, except for the sisters' aura that seemed to ooze around the manor twenty-four/seven.

As they carried on the conversation, about how to vanquish the Source once and for all, in order to save Phoebe's soul, Cole kept thinking about it.

Something was telling him this would not be the last time he heard it.


**************************


Phoebe hadn't realized her eyes were closed until she had to force herself to open them.

Slowly, hesitantly, she let her eyelids rise, afraid of what she may see.

The pain was lessening, changing into a dull ache of over-stressed muscles. She felt as if she had just run the San Francisco Spring Marathon--- exhausted.

Only one look between her legs, and her fatigue disappeared as if by magic.

{prue}

She was small, she was so small...

Her trembling hands picked her up, and tenderly held her close.

Strangely, the baby was quiet.

But her eyes were open, and stared at her questioningly, curious and sleepy at the same time.

She knew this was not normal behavior for a newborn--- but she couldn't care less.

Her little baby was here. Prue was here.

She cooed at her, softly rubbing their noses together.

Prue answered with a giggle, so pure, so innocent, it brought tears to Phoebe's eyes.

Her finger gently traced the curve of her perfect cheeks, and Prue seemed to lean into her touch. She was so beautiful--- she was the most beautiful thing Phoebe had ever seen.

She was perfect.

Her tiny hands, curled into even tinier fists, seemed to lurch around, in sudden moves that spoke of undeveloped motor skills. But her eyes--- her eyes were the purest of blues Phoebe had ever seen.

Cobalt blue, came to her mind, when she tried to find a proper word to describe them.

There was a soft mop of newborn hair on her tiny head. It was brown, dark brown... but she had read somewhere all babies were born with dark hair.

"Hi there, little one".

Prue gurgled at her words, and giggled again. And Phoebe felt her heart melting, and happiness like she had never known before fill her heart.

"Prue. That's your name, precious. Prue".

The baby blinked at her, her pupils never once looking away. It was as if she was memorizing her features...

Feeling as her tissue reconstituted itself, the healing abilities kicking in, she moved around in the bed, feeling the sticky sheets clinging to her skin. Sticky sheets, stained with her blood. With her life.

Never once putting Prue down, she slowly stood up, her legs aching and wobbling under her. But she needed to move.

She needed to clean her up.

Little Prue looked around the room, her inquiring gaze taking everything in... As if she could actually understand what she was seeing.

Phoebe held her close, feeling her warmth, which suddenly reminded her of *him*.

They had the same kind of warmth--- welcoming, enveloping, rich--- she shook her head, fighting the memories, keeping them at bay.

She needed to move fast.

Picking up one of the pillows, she took off the pillowcase, and carried it with her.

Still wobbly, she approached a small fountain that ran on the corner of the chamber. She had drunk from it before--- it was clean, and the only means she had to clean her little daughter with.

Slowly, with as much care as if she was cleaning the most precious thing in the world, she cleaned her. And the waters ran red, as Prue's skin arose from the blood and placenta that still covered her.

All along, the baby gurgled, her first contact with water pleasant and welcome.

And all along, Phoebe cried.

When the pillowcase was lost beyond recognition, and Prue was clean and done, she sank back against the wall, taking her baby with her.

And she rocked her back and forth, singing an old lullaby, she remembered back when she was little, and Grams used to tuck her in. Before her life took a downturn and everything turned into a mess.

Gods, she was so tired... so, so tired. Her eyes closed and opened, over and over again, as she fought sleep away. She could not sleep. She could not rest.

Not until she was sure Prue was safe.

But how?. How could she protect her little daughter, in a place so evil, so dark, even to breathe was difficult?.

She held her against her heart, and by instinct born of a thousand lives, little Prue latched onto her breast, and greedily began feeding. And seeing her there, cradled against her breast, drinking from her own milk, as if she was not in Hell, but in her own home, broke Phoebe's heart.

Because the only thing this baby would ever know, would be darkness. And betrayal. And pain. And torture.

And she was *her's*, as no other thing could ever be.

Because it was her own blood running through Prue's veins, giving her strength...

"mommy".

It was a silent whisper, a word she hadn't uttered in a long time.

Because she knew what she had to do.

Knew that she would die first, that to let her Prue be corrupted by Evil. She knew her baby daughter would not suffer under the hand of the Source, or any other demon that craved her power.

She wouldn't.

Not if she had anything to do with it.

And the weight of responsibility settled on her weak shoulders, as she realized there was only one way out. There was only one thing she could do to keep Prue safe. To keep her pure.

To keep her innocent.

Kill her.

A desperate sob went past the lump in her throat, as she cried again, depleted of any energy whatsoever.

Oblivious to her mother's troubled thoughts, little Prue kept on suckling, hungry.

"No...".

She caressed her cheek, taking in the feel of her soft, baby skin, and her wide, open blue eyes, and her perfect little nose--- life. Life she had created, life that she had brought into the world.

Live she would now have to terminate.

How could she?. How could she even fathom the idea of killing her?. Prue was her daughter, for God's sake!!. Her *daughter*.

But she knew there was no other way. If he found her, he would take her, take Prue away from her... corrupt her for his own devious purposes, killing her too. He would consume little Prue's soul, like water consumes fire, and kill her.

Maybe she could spare her the suffering.

Maybe she just wasn't meant to be born yet.

She closed her eyes, and harshly brought her head back against the wall, biting her lip as the pain irradiated from her skull and downwards.

{Good, concentrate on the pain}.

How she wished to follow her, to follow her into the afterlife--- but she knew better than to try. Knew better than to try and take her life. Because her life was no longer her own. She belonged to him, mind, body and soul.

And as long as he lived, she would.

And the Source was immortal--- and now, so was she.

And to face immortality with these kind of memories, was torture. And she knew it.

But she also knew that if she allowed him to take Prue, she could not live with herself anyway.

So it was the lesser of two evils--- in her mind.

But her heart cried out in protest, and she swallowed loudly, trying to push the lump down. It was getting harder to breathe.

"Prue...".

The little baby, unaware of the tears in her mother's eyes, and the breaking of her heart, looked up at her, and smiled widely.

And Phoebe realized she couldn't--- she just couldn't do it.

{You will let him take her, then?}

Distress made her reach up inside her soul, looking for an answer that would never come. Because there was no right or wrong in a situation like this... she could only do what she needed to.

And as she turned back inside, and cried out for help, the Source's hold onto her premonitions faltered, and she was allowed one last image.



{... tall, dark and beautiful, a deadly princess of Death caused mayhem in the mortal's world, becoming the most powerful assassin demons and humans had ever known. And her name was Prue, and she had Cole's eyes, and Phoebe's face, and she laughed and laughed, as she killed an innocent, twisting his neck in an odd angle...}

.....
.....
....
..
.

She came back to her own body gasping for breath, craving for air, desperate for help.

Help that would never come, because this was her own decision to make.

With the tears coming so fast and so hard, they clouded her vision and made it hard to *breathe*, she rose.

{You will not get her}

She had made herself that promise. She had vowed her daughter would not become evil. She had sworn on everything she held dear, that her daughter would never experience the hell she was in. And she had no other way to go.

There *was* no other way to go.

She softly put Prue down, nuzzling her nose one last time.

She memorized her features, knowing, needing to know what her face looked like. What the face that would haunt her to her last breath looked like.

And little Prue raised her small hand, and mimicked her moves, tracing Phoebe's own cheek with her small, delicate fingers.

Phoebe kissed her forehead, and whispered one last word.

"goodbye".

She rose, and turned away.

Prue remained silent, waiting on the ground in the puddle of sheets. Phoebe just wished she would cry, at least one time, to hear her voice, to remind her she was alive--- to stop her!.

But she did not utter a sound.

It was most obvious this baby was not human. And neither was her mother.

Closing her eyes, she stretched out her right hand, and summoned a fireball.

It was hard, to fight her own consciousness, which rebelled against what she was about to do. But she had a will of steel, and a heart so broken, no TLC in the world could ever mend it back together.

As the chamber lit up with the small fireball that sizzled in her hand, she opened her eyes, and looked at Prue.

And something in her chest broke, as she saw her daughter smiling back at her, in that intense and pristine way that only babies can.

"I'm sorry".

Her words echoed in the stone walls, repeating themselves so many times, they lost their meaning, and became almost like a mantra to her.

And she knew she would never find forgiveness, because she would kill her first innocent today. Her own daughter would christen her as Phax.

There would be no need for a sacrifice. Because what she was about to do now, qualified as the greatest sacrifice of all.

She held her breath, and bit her lip, tasting her blood...

And she fired the fireball.


*********************************



TBC...

I'm evil, aren't I?.