** Change of Heart **, chapter 12: Bickering
by Lilian
lilian413@yahoo.com
AN: I'm back!!. And with the longest chapter so far!. Jeje, I think my vacations might've inspired me--- I'm already halwfway through chapter 13, so maybe it won't be too long bfore I post that one.
Okay, I've got three things to say:
To Barb. Honey, without I've be lost. For real. I just want to thank you for everything you've done, and dedicate this story to you--- without you, this would've never gotten so far, or so good. *big bear hug*
To Linda, for giving me just the right tip when I needed it. She solved a bunch of problems I was having as I was plotting the next chapters, even if she never really knew about it. Thank you so much!!!. oh, and for those still living under a rock, if you haven't read Linda's (Jolynn) 'Shattered Images', what are you waiting for?. Go!. Now!.
And last, but most certainly not least, to Cindy. That was the longest review I've ever received, and you gave me some vital plot ideas I was lacking so far... I hope you'll have some more comments to share with me after you're done reading this!. *giggle*
So, on we go!!.
*****************************
His world had been turned upside down.
Again.
Just when he had finally come to terms with the death of his soul mate, she appeared back in his life, with a sneer on her beautiful lips, and sarcasm to rival with that of Prue's. The sister. Her sister.
It had been strange, feeling like this when she was around. Back when Prue was alive, her probing gaze and untrusting eyes kept him on his toes all day long, but Phoebe's presence always managed to calm him down.
But now--- he really wasn't thinking straight. He never did, when it came to her. Whenever it came to Phoebe, there was only one thought running through his head, urging him on, and driving him further.
Love her.
That's why he had followed her.
He had thrown caution to the wind, crushed every warning Piper had given him, forgotten that he was no longer welcome in the Underworld, and followed her.
Her shimmer had been easy to track. Aside from the residual magic that hung in the air, their link was slowly mending itself, like pieces of an old puzzle that when thrown onto the ground, find the right place among each other.
And the closer he drew to her, the stronger it got.
But it was different.
It was a different connection--- he was no longer welcome. That much was obvious, if her scornful words in the alley hadn't been enough.
But it wasn't enough.
He needed to know.
He needed--- he wasn't sure what it was that he needed. All he could think about, was her living, breathing body near his, so near and yet so far away, the breach between them going beyond physical distance.
His body *knew* her, recognized her... reacted instinctively, seeking her warmth. But hers--- hers seemed held back, controlled, leashed. But still, even changed, twisted and all *wrong*, it was her.
Phoebe.
His Phoebe.
He could feel her confusion, could feel it coming off her in waves. And beneath the confusion, something else. Something he had never associated with Phoebe before-- hate.
All directed... at him?.
He crushed that train of thought, knowing it would only lead to distraction. She was trying to loose him in between realms, and although he could've followed her just by their link, he wanted to keep an eye on her as long as possible.
Now was not the time for contemplation.
That would came later--- after they talked.
Still, he couldn't help consider the fact that Phoebe was shimmering... *shimmering*!.
That was a demonic power. And his knowledge of the Underworld held several possible answers for this, answers he feared, that he dared not contemplate.
The implications were too much to bear.
He wondered if Piper would kill him when he got back--- if he ever got back from this. Because he had felt the pull of the darkness, the foulness of the air the second they had shimmered into the Underworld.
And he knew the Source could feel him too.
But nothing mattered. Nothing mattered, as long as he got the chance to speak with her, to see her one more time...
He felt her stopping, sensed as her form solidified in a chamber, and he stopped too.
When his surroundings stopped blurring around him, he found himself in a dark chamber, with a few candles lighting the place up, and no signs of occupancy whatsoever.
And there she was.
Facing away from him, her back taut, her stance tight, as if ready to bolt any second now.
And he was speechless, completely at a loss of words, when her presence became real, and she was *there*---
His head was spinning, and his breath was coming in short gasps, that reverberated across the empty grotto. If in weariness from the continuous shimmering, or simple amazement at her breathtaking form, he could not say.
Probably a combination of both.
"What do you want?".
Her voice was low and strained, as if she was fighting to keep the tears in check.
He had trouble speaking, his brain disconnected from his mouth. The only thing that came out was a throaty whisper, a word he hadn't said in a long time, and that now came back to him in a rush.
"Phoebe...".
He was surprised to see her stiffening at her name. As if it brought back memories she did not want to remember. As if it brought her pain and recollections that anguished her to no end.
"No".
He took a step forward, trying to reach her, to break through the bubble she had built around herself.
And she turned quickly, her eyes shinning, her teeth bared, and her right hand pointing at his chest. In a quick move, so fast Cole could barely follow it, a fireball appeared in her hand.
"Don't you dare *move*!".
He stopped dead in his tracks, surprised.
"How did you--".
His question was cut short, as she snickered spitefully.
"This?. You want to know how I can summon fireballs?. Or how I can shimmer. Uh?. After a year apart, is that all you can ask?".
He felt every word she spoke like a dagger to his heart. There was powerful hate behind her voice, and it struck him deeply, awakening the ghost of failure he had kept at bay for so long now.
"I don't---".
She waved her hand around, the fireball lighting up her face with the eerie light, and making the shadows dance around her.
"Exactly!. You didn't!. Now tell me why I shouldn't kill you right where you stand".
He took a deep breath, and gathered his thoughts, that were running around his head like loose cattle.
"We should get out of here".
He had to get her out of here--- out of the darkness, away from Evil. She was a figure of Light, had always been. She wasn't supposed to be down here. Then why was it that the darkness seemed to welcome her, like a long lost child, as a mother does with her prodigal daughter?.
Phoebe smiled at him, and it was such a terrifying sight, he took a step back. That wasn't Phoebe's smile... her smile was pure, and bright, and spoke of passion and fire and *life*!. What was this mask, this puppet, that conveyed hatred so deep?.
"We?. There hasn't been a *we* for a very long time, Belthazor".
Cole held his breath, hurt by the nasty tone of her voice, and the special care she took in using his demonic name. Belthazor?. Why was she addressing him by his alter ego?. How he longed to hear his name, his human name, come out of her ruby-red lips, like it had once before, a long time ago...
"Phoebe, I mean it".
He took a step forward, fully intending to gather her in his arms and force her away with him if need be. He never got that far. A flash of light zinged by his side, and a sudden burst of pain blazed in his right arm. The smell of burnt clothing permeated the air, and he bit back the grunt of pain that threatened to leave his lips.
One look down his arm, and his fears came true.
The fireball was no longer dancing atop of Phoebe's fingers, but burning away on the wall behind him, while his coat *and* shirt's sleeves had been reduced to ashes. The fire had barely grazed the skin--- he had felt it caressing the flesh of his upper arm, and the redness was already spreading around it, indicating abused nerve endings.
"I warned you. Leave. I won't miss next time'.
Cole gritted his teeth, fighting for dominance. In here, in the Underworld, Belthazor strove for control and especially now, when his body had been compromised. He refused to change, though. He wasn't sure he would be able to change back if he did. And Phoebe had never been too fond of his demonic self.
"Why?".
This time, her smile was joyful, and her fangs shone in the candlelight. Had they gotten longer since the last time they had seen each other?.
"Because I want to kill you".
He remained silent, shocked beyond belief. She wanted to kill him?. Never, not even when he had strayed off the path of Good, when he had killed Jenna, had she wanted to end his life. What was so different now, that changed her so?.
"I thought you were dead...".
It was barely a whisper, barely a breath, and he hadn't really intended for it to be vocal. It was a lament, meant only for himself.
But it came out, and her eyes hardened at the words.
"How convenient. This happened before or after you screwed her?".
He raised an eyebrow at this. What was she talking about?.
"Forget it, I don't want to know".
As her words settled in, and registered into his tired brain, footsteps echoed in the chamber. And the look in Phoebe's eyes, scared, haunted, *lost* was too much to bear.
"Leave, now!".
There was a plea in her voice, and for a split second, he could actually picture the Phoebe he had known, in this shell that carried her voice and her scent.
"I won't leave you alone in here".
It was such a sudden change--- she was cold one second, pleading the next. What was going on?. Why did he feel as if the truth had just brushed past him, and he had completely missed it?. But still, his words did not change her answer.
"Fine. What do I care...".
He walked up to her again, and stretched out his hand, willing himself to restrain her, and shimmer her back to the Surface, away from this stench, were maybe he could talk some sense into her--- he was pulled back, as a physical force held him where he stood.
He grunted, as he felt the pull of the Charmed One's calling him. Soon, a white curtain separated him from Phoebe, keeping them away, keeping them apart. He fought it, fought it with every ounce of strength he had left in his tired body.
"Piper, no!".
He watched, helpless, as Phoebe's form blurred away, and the Underworld changed, shifted, taking him away from her.
"Phoebe!".
He stretched out his hand at her, hoping she would take it, and they would both be teleported away, to safety, to the Surface--- she made no move to approach him.
And that hurt Cole more than her words and her fireball.
Because it meant Phoebe was gone, really gone.
She didn't trust him anymore.
********************************
Phax was being torn apart by two sides of her heart. One clamored in happiness, as the Witches' call took him away from her, saving him from whoever was approaching. The other, was screaming in anger, and demanding an answer on why hadn't she killed him.
Why hadn't she, really?.
He was there, vulnerable, unbelieving... she would never get another chance like this one. And still, she hadn't moved. She had stood there, admiring his chiseled features, drinking in his appearance, something she hadn't done in quite a while.
The anger was still there, the hate still bubbled inside of her--- but it seemed the embers of their love still burned inside of her. It seemed the fire was still blazing, still burning, threatening to escape.
When she had first seen him, standing, a few feet away from her, proud and powerful, reeking of confidence, she had cursed the Gods above for her luck. She knew she wasn't ready--- both physically *and* mentally.
She was by no means a worthy opponent on the battlefield--- much less on the emotional one. His presence had brought such a mighty blow to her psyche that she had had to consciously tell herself not to pant, in a futile attempt to bring oxygen to her lungs.
She had gone up, to the Surface, with one simple mission in mind: kill an innocent. And then, everything had gone to hell, and they were there, and she didn't know what to do, and she had simply lashed out at them, like a caged animal.
And the look in his eyes, desperate, unbelieving--- she had hid her troubled mind behind mocking words and sarcasm, hoping, *needing* for him to go away. But he had remained where he was, looking at her as if she was this--- this circus freak, and she was getting nervous.
And then, the youngest Witch (she refused to pronounce their names--- it would mean acknowledging a past she was still fighting to bury) had spoken. And her words had carried a veiled threat in them, and the understanding of Phax's new condition.
The Witch had felt the changes in her, much sooner and quicker than Belthazor or the Older Witch. She still didn't know what would've happened if the Source hadn't called her when he did. She had welcomed the call, knowing a way out when it presented itself to her.
And she had shimmered away, pleased, even joyful, that she would not have to deal with them anymore--- stupid, so stupid!.
Of course he would follow her. To mock her, to laugh at her, to make fun of everything she had worked so hard to accomplish!.
She had wanted to kill him, she really had. The logical side of her knew that if she didn't kill him, the Source would kill her. But she hadn't been able to. She had tried, the fireball in her hand---
But still, once human, always human. Or at least, human qualities remained. And something inside of her lurched, when she realized he had come after her, had endangered his own life to follow her.
Her hands became fists, tight against her thighs.
She had been trained to be impossibly accurate. She never missed, period. She could hit a fly at a hundred feet... she had done it before. But she had missed with him.
God, why was it so damned hard?.
She had been tempted to accept his offer, to go with him, to escape--- his voice clouded her thinking, his body was too close, too near, and she had really considered stretching out her hand, touching his, just to feel his skin under her fingers one more time...
{Cole}
There it was again. Her heart was dead, she was evil, and still, his name felt good. She cursed under her breath, trying to ignore the song inside of her that had been going on ever since she had seen him again.
Had she really been willing to go with him?.
The answer struck her hard, and created a crack in the armor she had built around herself.
Yes.
Yes, she had been this close to taking his hand, and leaving this place--- the Source and his power over her be damned. But the image of the Oldest Witch wrapped around Belthazor, kissing, in such an intimate contact that it could not be mistaken for simple friendship came back to haunt her, and her resolve strengthened.
This was the bastard that had forced her to kill her daughter.
{my Prue}
And he had to pay for that.
Why did it bother her so?. Wasn't she over him?. Wasn't she ready to kill him, ready to punish him for what he had done to her, and her daughter?.
{you forget she was his daughter too...}
The derisive voice in the back of her head came back with a vengeance, preying on her weaknesses, and exposing them to her, without masks or disguises. It had been her endless companion, never sleeping, never stopping, never ending. It was always there, in the back of her head.
"Shut up!".
The voice died, leaving her alone.
Funny. She was supposed to be a demon now. Demons lacked a consciousness. Why did hers pester her, then?.
She had very little time to think about all of this, before Jhiera strode into the chamber, her eyes flashing with barely contained anger, and even a tinge of fear.
"You!. What the hell did you think you were doing?".
Phax scooped up the last of her pride, forced it up together, battered and bruised as it was, and spat an answer back at Jhiera.
"Nothing that should matter to you".
Jhiera's wrath was not an easy storm to face. Phax had learned that the hard way. But she was too riled up to keep her temper in check. Besides, she could tell she wasn't just angry, she was terribly afraid. That meant someone else knew about all of this---
"It matters all right!. This is *my* neck on the line, girlfriend!".
Oh, so that's what this stunt was all about. Jhiera was worried the Source would kill her if he ever found out she had shimmered away, leaving his most precious assassin-to-be alone up on the Surface...
"Why did you wait?. You know witches can scry for us!".
Phax turned her back on the older demon, and made a move to shimmer away to her quarters. She really, really needed some time alone now.
"Can it, all right?. I'm not in the mood for your hissy fits".
But before she could teleport away (her shimmering kept getting interrupted these days, it seemed), another form shimmered into the chamber. And Jhiera quieted immediately, and bowed respectfully, as the Source himself appeared between her and her rogue trainee.
"My Lord".
Her tone carried such an amount of fear that the Source could not help but be pleased. Besides, she was still useful--- good upper level demons were scarce these days, and Jhiera was one of his finest assets. That's why he wasn't going to kill her--- yet.
"Leave us".
Jhiera glared daggers at Phax, and a look that promised death if she spilled, and teleported away.
She needn't have worried. Phax was many things, and would be many more, but a traitor she was not. She knew she was the only one to blame for this, and would take the full brunt of the punishment by herself.
When the last traces of the she-demon disappeared into the stagnant air of the Underworld, silence settled on the chamber, as Phax felt the Source's piercing eyes fixed on her. But she remained silent, knowing that there were no words appropriate enough to excuse her for what she had done.
And then the pain came.
The energy ball struck her square in the chest, and sent her flying against the farthest wall. She grunted in pain, and bit her lip, tasting her own blood. But she did not scream. She would not scream.
"I do not let betrayal go unpunished, Witch".
She kept her eyes down, knowing that if she dared to look up, it would only anger him further. The best way to escape alive from the Source's anger, was to remain quiet, and to be as meek as possible.
"You compromised everything".
Another energy ball hit her, slamming her hard against the rocks holding her up. Her skull crashed against the stone, and she felt one of her ribs crack under the pressure of the magic.
"You let them see you".
His mind tendrils scooped her up, and dragged her towards him. Something hot, wet and sticky was running down her neck--- she was betting it was blood. And still, she remained silent.
"You let him follow you down here".
A black fingernail slowly caressed the mark on her forearm, and pain erupted within her, and this time, she did scream.
It was what the Source wanted. He relished in pain, and this woman's cries of anguish were especially sweet to him.
"You let him escape unscathed".
She slumped down, as the Source's telekinesis dropped her. Her mouth tasted dirt, and with the blood, it made a particularly nasty mix.
"Tell me one reason, one good reason, as to why I should not kill you".
She struggled up, and spit out the foul mixture invading her mouth. She cleaned her lips with the back of her sleeve, and looked up at the Source, through ruffled hair and sweat.
"I--- I can still kill them".
The harsh laughter that erupted from the darkness of the Source's hood was deafening to her ears, but she was too tired to cover them.
"Not good enough".
Next thing she knew, she was flying across the air, her body completely out of her control, and she had barely a second to brace herself for the impact. When it came, it was hard, harder than she had expected--- the Source was keeping her pushed against the rock, forcing her soft skin against the abrasive surface.
It wasn't long before the Source released her, and she fell down, but to her it seemed like ages. Coughing, fighting back the tears of agony, she tried again.
"I won't fail again. I will train harder".
As she tried to rise from the ungraceful heap she had become on the floor, the Source floated up to where she was, and looked down at her, as one looks at a cowering mouse in the kitchen corner.
"Yes you will. I will not be so forgiving next time".
He shimmered away, leaving her there, bleeding, crying, suffering--- it would be a long time before she would be able to fight again. Or even walk properly. She tried to move, tried to stand up, but it was useless.
She wasn't even strong enough to shimmer herself into her quarters.
Somehow, the pain of the shame hurt more than any wound the Source had inflicted upon her. The fact that she had failed, that she had been unable to control her feelings, and had hesitated like a teenager on her first date... she was a demon, damn it!.
She cried silently, refusing to let other demons notice her broken body lying in the corner.
Next time, next time she would be prepared. She would push away all the remnants of humanity that still clung to her to like a disease, forcing her to feel things she did not want to, experiencing rushes she did not need, and making her weak.
She vowed, that next time, *they* would be the ones bleeding.
Not her.
Never her.
***********************************
".... bring us the demon Belthazor here!".
Piper had had the presence of mind to drive back to the Manor before calling the missing demon. But that was all she was able to do, as her mind was a turmoil of things, of thoughts and memories and images and flashes, all coming together and splitting apart, making it hard to think.
Phoebe was alive.
Cole had gone after her.
She had frozen Phoebe.
Paige felt Phoebe was evil.
She took a deep breath, and tried to calm her thoughts. It didn't work.
As her words died down, she waited for the small white tornado to appear. For a few seconds, nothing happened, and an icy hand squeezed her heart. Was he dead?. Had they been too late?. She knew she wouldn't be able to handle another death in the family, another loss... not now, not when everything was upside down, and she was on the edge of insanity.
{Phoebe...}
Wind began picking up, and she leaned back into Leo's arms, relieved. He was alive.
Because the spell wouldn't be bringing them a dead body, right?.
Right?.
The magic was unstable, though. Cole was resisting it--- the windstorm trashed back and forth, and threatened the integrity of the living room's furniture.
When he did settle down, and the wind stopped blowing, there was a bewildered look in his eyes, as if he did not believe what he had just seen. He sighed loudly, but before he could shimmer away again, Paige spoke, knowing they only had a second before he disappeared.
"Cole, wait".
The half demon stopped, but remained taut and ready to finish the shimmer the second Paige stopped speaking. In fact, the only reason he had stopped in the first place was because Paige's tone carried a warning in it. And, out of respect for the friendship they had developed in the past year.
But mostly, because he realized they could call him back whenever they wanted to--- he probably wouldn't make it halfway down there, before the white magic forced him back, and brought him back to the manor.
"What?. She's down there, Paige. She's *alive*".
His voice, full of a hope they had not heard in a long time, struck a deep chord in all of them.
Paige gritted her teeth, and gathered her wits. Her heart reached out to him, but she knew he needed to hear this, needed to face it. He was in clear denial.
Back in the alley, when Phoebe had first unfrozen herself, the whitelighter inside of Paige had warned her. Her senses had flared up, roaring in her ears, deafening her. And she had fought against it, trying to make that half of her realize that the woman that was standing in front of them was her sister, not the demon of the day.
But then Phoebe had shimmered, and her doubts were erased.
And she had tried to warn them, tried to make them walk away--- and then things had done to hell. Phoebe had shimmered away, and Cole had followed her. She had considered orbing to the Underworld herself, and dragging him back to the Surface... but as impulsive as she was in her youth, there was also an amount of hard logic that keep her rooted on the spot.
She had dragged Piper with her, back to the car, back to the Manor, were she had broken the news to an awed Leo, as Piper recited the spell to bring Cole back.
And now it was her job to keep him here, to stop him from going after the only woman he had ever loved.
She cursed under her breath. Of all the things to do this week...
"She's not herself, Cole".
That was the understatement of the century. But still, when she vocalized it, it made it all the more palpable, all the more *real*, and for a split second, she wished she had remained silent.
But then her temper kicked in, and she decided this was not a time for the 'what if's... Cole needed to hear the truth, needed for it to slap him in the face, and wake him up from the Phoebe-trance he had dived into.
Cole looked away from her, anywhere but at her, at them, at the people he had grown to call a family--- ashamed to look into their eyes, afraid of what he might find in them.
Pity.
"I know that".
He did indeed know that. His stinging arm was enough proof. He had been within inches of her, just a few feet away, so close, so damn close---
His voice trembled right at the end of the sentence, as if his tight control over his feelings faltered for a split second.
"You don't understand, Cole. She's *evil*---".
"Paige, stop".
Piper's low whisper was enough to placate the youngest Witch, as she was this close to starting a diatribe that would've most certainly thrown Cole over the edge he careened towards ever since this morning.
"You followed her, didn't you?".
Somehow, Piper's calm question hurt Cole much more than Paige's tantrum-to-be. Because in the hushed voice she spoken in, he could read the pain, and the anger, and the sadness--- because they mirrored his own.
"Yeah".
The soft-spoken eldest sister sighed loudly, and sought support in Leo's body behind hers. She felt a small warm body nestling against her shoulder, and smiled sadly when Prue giggled in her ear.
"To where?".
Everyone knew the answer to that. It was as obvious as saying that the snow is white, and that the sky is blue. But they needed to hear it, needed to listen to the words reverberating in the old house, confirming the truth.
"Hell".
Piper closed her eyes, and fought back the tears. Paige just looked away, her brows furrowed in discomfort. She had mixed feelings about this--- she hated it that Piper hushed her, hated it that she hadn't trusted her enough to deal with Cole. But at the same time, she understood, she knew what all of this was about. She knew that Piper and Cole were closer than she was with the half-demon, and that Piper would have a better chance at breaking through to him than she had.
Leo held her wife close, and drank in her scent, as Cole's hands became fists, and he tried to keep the demon in him in check. It was hard... with emotions running so high, and sadness soaking the room, Belthazor threatened to spurt forward, to do what he did not dare.
Vent.
There was only one thing keeping him human... Phoebe's spiteful words. The demon name he had come to accept (or so he thought), up until Phoebe had awakened a different kind of hate in him.
He really had thought he had conquered the demon. He really did. Because never, in all the long year they had spent apart, had Belthazor fought so hard, and almost won. It seemed the very woman he had tried to renounce his demonic-half for, was the one that awoke the demon in him in the first place.
He sunk into the nearby couch, and hid his face in his hands. Gods, it was so hard!. The tempest inside of him was running strong, and now, all of this, and the silence, and the quiet, and the commiseration in their eyes---
"We might have a chance".
Paige's voice came out of nowhere, as she turned back to face them, and the spark of an idea danced across her eyes.
"What do you mean?".
Piper never moved from within Leo's arms, but her question hung in the air, waiting for an answer that Paige fought to make vocal.
"Phoebe is alive, right?. That means there's still hope!. Maybe-- maybe we could create a spell to call her here, and maybe, I don't know, tie her down, and reason with her, change her back!".
Paige was young, and had been at this Charmed duty for far less time than Piper or Leo. That's why she still kept hope, and refused to accept that Phoebe was just lost to them. And it was that faith that saved them all.
Leo craned his head to look down at his wife, remembering a conversation very similar to this one that they had some time ago. And in her eyes he saw a flicker of hope, and the realization that as long as Phoebe was alive, then they could still do something!.
Cole remained sitting, silently clutching his injured arm to his side, and biting his bottom lip. Everything was happening so fast, one thing after the other, and he hadn't had the time to really think about anything.
He needed to go down there, needed to find Phoebe!.
She was alive!.
{But she's also evil...}
The thought presented itself to him with such sudden clarity, that in an automatic response, his fingers clutched his wounded arm tighter, and he grunted in pain.
Yeah, she was evil.
The demon in him had recognized kin. The darkness in him had welcomed her own, even after bathing in Good for over a year now.
And she was also a demon. She could shimmer, and throw fireballs, as his stinging arm was proof of.
There was a part of him (that he fought every day since he had turned to the good side, ever since he had fallen in love with Phoebe), that rejoiced in the idea of her being evil.
He squashed it quickly, his own words coming back to haunt him.
'we can't both be evil...'
Destiny, it seems, is not without a sense of irony. He had tried so hard, so damned hard to be good, for her, all because of *her*, to be with her...
And just when he was accomplishing it, just when things were going down the right path, she was taken away from him, and turned...
The tables themselves were turned now. He was good (as good as he could ever hope to be), and Phoebe was evil.
Evil.
Strange, the word had a foul taste in his mouth, as he spoke it along with Phoebe's name.
What was the use then?. What was the use of all of this?. Of all the pain, and the suffering, and the sheer *agony*, if things did not look up?. He closed his eyes, trying to gather his thoughts, trying to keep them focused.
A soft coo interrupted him, and he looked up, and watched with the ghost of a smile as Prue stretched out her arms to him, and seemingly tried to speak.
"Dada".
His heart reached out to her, and he realized that this little girl, this little baby girl, made everything worth it. Everything.
Every single thing.
Because she was the result of his and Phoebe's love, in a time where things were better, and they still thought the future held happiness for them.
Leo tenderly disentangled himself from Piper's embrace, and moved in to put Prue in Cole's lap. The baby seemed happy about it, and clapped her hands in merriment.
But then, her blue eyes landed on Cole's burnt upper arm, and a frown clouded her pretty face.
"Bubu".
It was a low whisper, and if Cole didn't know Prue was still too little to really understand what was going on around her, he could've sworn the baby knew every single thing that had transpired between him and Phoebe.
"Yeah, honey. Daddy has a little bubu. It'll be gone in no time".
He nuzzled his nose against hers, but still, the frown in Prue's petite features did not fade. It was as if she was trying really hard to say something, and she just couldn't find the words...
"Mama".
Cole froze in his spot, his own eyes locked against Prue's. And for a split second, in those eyes raged a storm like no other he had seen before, and he could feel the knowledge pouring out of them, and he got a blurred glimpse of what she would one day become---
He pulled away, gasping. When he recovered his breath, he looked back at Prue's still form. The eyes of a four month old, clear, innocent, naive, greeted his questioning stare. It was as if it had all been his imagination, a trick of his tired mind...
"Did you see that?".
Leo turned to look at him, from the spot behind him where he was comforting a still shaken Piper. And in his eyes there was wonder, as to why the older man seem so agitated all of a sudden.
"See what?".
It was clear they had heard and seen nothing. And Cole didn't feel like explaining it, not just yet. He shook his head, dismissing the questions that were coming his way.
"Nothing".
As he turned back, his eyes caught Paige's. And in then, he saw the same awe that danced across his own.
**********************************
Paige had gotten a glimpse of what Cole had seen. It had been a coincidence--- she had just looked down at Cole, to tell him something, when she looked into Prue's eyes, and was scared of what she saw.
Prue's eyes were locked in an unresposive stare, reflecting a storm raging inside those blue orbs.
She had seen Phoebe when she got a premonition. And Prue's expression mirrored her mother's--- Prue had other powers besides shimmering!.
Cole raised a questioning eyebrow, and Paige slowly nodded, unsure if her eyes were playing tricks on her. She sat beside him, and Prue gurgled at her. She then attempted to crawl off Cole's lap and onto hers. Paige let her, and softly spoke to the shaken man next to her.
"She has premonitions".
It seemed the young girl did not suffer from the pain that accompanied Phoebe's visions. Or the body displacement that Phoebe experienced every time a vision slipped into her brain. It was probably due to her demonic heritage--- she was stronger than the average human.
Cole looked at his daughter, watched as she tried to make her way down Paige's lap and into the floor. Seemingly, Prue understood that Paige was smaller than he was, and that it would be easier to crawl off her, that it would be to do so off him.
He smiled, as her pretty scrunched face, tight with concentration wrong for a baby as small as she was, reminded him of Phoebe. The same cheeks, the same mouth--- and his eyes.
"Makes you wonder what she sees".
Cole scooped Prue up, and held her close. The baby protested a little, upset that she was being interrupted. But, she settled down in Cole's arms, and cooed happily, recognizing her father.
"She saw Phoebe".
It was strange, talking about her so detachedly. But he had no choice.
"We'll call her. She has to come. We might be able to talk some sense into her then".
A hesitant hand rested atop Cole's shoulder, and Paige's blood-red fingernails immediately lured Prue away from Cole's face.
"I know. It's just--- I never expected this".
Leo and Piper sat across them, having seemingly followed the entire exchange between them, and a worried look in their eyes.
"None of us did".
Silence settled on the room, blanketing the air with its unseeing weight, broken only by Prue's occasional gurgle and soft-spoken attempts at speaking.
They had many things to do--- they had to call Phoebe. They would have to summon her... and time was running out. But they needed to sit down, needed to collect their thoughts.
If the confrontation that loomed in the air was as cataclysmic as they felt it would be, then they would need this time of quiet. They wouldn't be having any for a long, long time.
*****************************
Phax had been lying on the floor for some time now. She couldn't really say how long, but it felt like a century. The Source had told her once, that time pasted differently in the Underworld. That time moved slower in Hell.
One day spent in the Underworld, could be at least a week on the Surface.
When she had been pregnant, time had changed for her--- she suspected the work of Tempus. And all because of her... a sad smile curled her lips, and she grunted as it stung. She had a split lip.
The baby needed a normal gestation period, and her human body couldn't adjust to the changes while she was pregnant. But after Prue had been born (she ignored the flash of pain that erupted in her heart), time had resumed it's normal flow.
She still had trouble coming to terms with it... especially now, when her whole body was hurting.
The Source's healing powers were taking their time, probably because the damage was so extensive, so big, it would still take days for her to heal.
Some time ago (hours?. Days?. Months?), she had shimmered to her room, avoiding confrontation with all the demons that roamed through the halls, waiting to pounce on her.
And there she had remained, alone, forgotten, trying her best to remain still.
She had been fighting consciousness, lapsing into restless sleep several times, where nightmares plagued her thoughts, and made her wake up screaming and crying. Ghosts of her past and present loomed in the air around her, and she could almost feel them laughing at her, mocking her...
The Source's sneer.
The kiss.
The murder of her daughter.
The betrayal of her family.
It all danced across her eyes, mixing, fusing, and becoming twisted versions of the truth, fueled by the magic running through her.
That was why she could only moan when she felt another magic settling upon her.
White magic.
The Witches' magic.
She tried to call the Source, to let him know what was happening. But she thought better, and remained silent. She had failed once.
She wouldn't do it again.
She would prove it to him that she wasn't a waste of time.
She closed her eyes, and willed the room to stop spinning. The magic was ripping her apart--- it battled with the darkness flowing through her, with the mark upon her forearm.
She was afraid.
Afraid that she would freeze up again. As much as she vowed to herself she wouldn't, she knew better. She knew that it would be hard--- harder than most things she had done so far.
But it was for the better.
If she screwed this up, the Source would kill her--- or worse. She had heard tales, rumors about what tortures the Source inflicted upon those who failed him. And death seemed appealing, compared to those poor jerks' destinies.
She cried out, as the white magic overpowered the dark for a split second, and her body dissolved in a flurry of white, as wind blew the sheets away from her bed, and danced across the now empty room.
Phax was on her way to the Surface.
**************************************
Tbc...
by Lilian
lilian413@yahoo.com
AN: I'm back!!. And with the longest chapter so far!. Jeje, I think my vacations might've inspired me--- I'm already halwfway through chapter 13, so maybe it won't be too long bfore I post that one.
Okay, I've got three things to say:
To Barb. Honey, without I've be lost. For real. I just want to thank you for everything you've done, and dedicate this story to you--- without you, this would've never gotten so far, or so good. *big bear hug*
To Linda, for giving me just the right tip when I needed it. She solved a bunch of problems I was having as I was plotting the next chapters, even if she never really knew about it. Thank you so much!!!. oh, and for those still living under a rock, if you haven't read Linda's (Jolynn) 'Shattered Images', what are you waiting for?. Go!. Now!.
And last, but most certainly not least, to Cindy. That was the longest review I've ever received, and you gave me some vital plot ideas I was lacking so far... I hope you'll have some more comments to share with me after you're done reading this!. *giggle*
So, on we go!!.
*****************************
His world had been turned upside down.
Again.
Just when he had finally come to terms with the death of his soul mate, she appeared back in his life, with a sneer on her beautiful lips, and sarcasm to rival with that of Prue's. The sister. Her sister.
It had been strange, feeling like this when she was around. Back when Prue was alive, her probing gaze and untrusting eyes kept him on his toes all day long, but Phoebe's presence always managed to calm him down.
But now--- he really wasn't thinking straight. He never did, when it came to her. Whenever it came to Phoebe, there was only one thought running through his head, urging him on, and driving him further.
Love her.
That's why he had followed her.
He had thrown caution to the wind, crushed every warning Piper had given him, forgotten that he was no longer welcome in the Underworld, and followed her.
Her shimmer had been easy to track. Aside from the residual magic that hung in the air, their link was slowly mending itself, like pieces of an old puzzle that when thrown onto the ground, find the right place among each other.
And the closer he drew to her, the stronger it got.
But it was different.
It was a different connection--- he was no longer welcome. That much was obvious, if her scornful words in the alley hadn't been enough.
But it wasn't enough.
He needed to know.
He needed--- he wasn't sure what it was that he needed. All he could think about, was her living, breathing body near his, so near and yet so far away, the breach between them going beyond physical distance.
His body *knew* her, recognized her... reacted instinctively, seeking her warmth. But hers--- hers seemed held back, controlled, leashed. But still, even changed, twisted and all *wrong*, it was her.
Phoebe.
His Phoebe.
He could feel her confusion, could feel it coming off her in waves. And beneath the confusion, something else. Something he had never associated with Phoebe before-- hate.
All directed... at him?.
He crushed that train of thought, knowing it would only lead to distraction. She was trying to loose him in between realms, and although he could've followed her just by their link, he wanted to keep an eye on her as long as possible.
Now was not the time for contemplation.
That would came later--- after they talked.
Still, he couldn't help consider the fact that Phoebe was shimmering... *shimmering*!.
That was a demonic power. And his knowledge of the Underworld held several possible answers for this, answers he feared, that he dared not contemplate.
The implications were too much to bear.
He wondered if Piper would kill him when he got back--- if he ever got back from this. Because he had felt the pull of the darkness, the foulness of the air the second they had shimmered into the Underworld.
And he knew the Source could feel him too.
But nothing mattered. Nothing mattered, as long as he got the chance to speak with her, to see her one more time...
He felt her stopping, sensed as her form solidified in a chamber, and he stopped too.
When his surroundings stopped blurring around him, he found himself in a dark chamber, with a few candles lighting the place up, and no signs of occupancy whatsoever.
And there she was.
Facing away from him, her back taut, her stance tight, as if ready to bolt any second now.
And he was speechless, completely at a loss of words, when her presence became real, and she was *there*---
His head was spinning, and his breath was coming in short gasps, that reverberated across the empty grotto. If in weariness from the continuous shimmering, or simple amazement at her breathtaking form, he could not say.
Probably a combination of both.
"What do you want?".
Her voice was low and strained, as if she was fighting to keep the tears in check.
He had trouble speaking, his brain disconnected from his mouth. The only thing that came out was a throaty whisper, a word he hadn't said in a long time, and that now came back to him in a rush.
"Phoebe...".
He was surprised to see her stiffening at her name. As if it brought back memories she did not want to remember. As if it brought her pain and recollections that anguished her to no end.
"No".
He took a step forward, trying to reach her, to break through the bubble she had built around herself.
And she turned quickly, her eyes shinning, her teeth bared, and her right hand pointing at his chest. In a quick move, so fast Cole could barely follow it, a fireball appeared in her hand.
"Don't you dare *move*!".
He stopped dead in his tracks, surprised.
"How did you--".
His question was cut short, as she snickered spitefully.
"This?. You want to know how I can summon fireballs?. Or how I can shimmer. Uh?. After a year apart, is that all you can ask?".
He felt every word she spoke like a dagger to his heart. There was powerful hate behind her voice, and it struck him deeply, awakening the ghost of failure he had kept at bay for so long now.
"I don't---".
She waved her hand around, the fireball lighting up her face with the eerie light, and making the shadows dance around her.
"Exactly!. You didn't!. Now tell me why I shouldn't kill you right where you stand".
He took a deep breath, and gathered his thoughts, that were running around his head like loose cattle.
"We should get out of here".
He had to get her out of here--- out of the darkness, away from Evil. She was a figure of Light, had always been. She wasn't supposed to be down here. Then why was it that the darkness seemed to welcome her, like a long lost child, as a mother does with her prodigal daughter?.
Phoebe smiled at him, and it was such a terrifying sight, he took a step back. That wasn't Phoebe's smile... her smile was pure, and bright, and spoke of passion and fire and *life*!. What was this mask, this puppet, that conveyed hatred so deep?.
"We?. There hasn't been a *we* for a very long time, Belthazor".
Cole held his breath, hurt by the nasty tone of her voice, and the special care she took in using his demonic name. Belthazor?. Why was she addressing him by his alter ego?. How he longed to hear his name, his human name, come out of her ruby-red lips, like it had once before, a long time ago...
"Phoebe, I mean it".
He took a step forward, fully intending to gather her in his arms and force her away with him if need be. He never got that far. A flash of light zinged by his side, and a sudden burst of pain blazed in his right arm. The smell of burnt clothing permeated the air, and he bit back the grunt of pain that threatened to leave his lips.
One look down his arm, and his fears came true.
The fireball was no longer dancing atop of Phoebe's fingers, but burning away on the wall behind him, while his coat *and* shirt's sleeves had been reduced to ashes. The fire had barely grazed the skin--- he had felt it caressing the flesh of his upper arm, and the redness was already spreading around it, indicating abused nerve endings.
"I warned you. Leave. I won't miss next time'.
Cole gritted his teeth, fighting for dominance. In here, in the Underworld, Belthazor strove for control and especially now, when his body had been compromised. He refused to change, though. He wasn't sure he would be able to change back if he did. And Phoebe had never been too fond of his demonic self.
"Why?".
This time, her smile was joyful, and her fangs shone in the candlelight. Had they gotten longer since the last time they had seen each other?.
"Because I want to kill you".
He remained silent, shocked beyond belief. She wanted to kill him?. Never, not even when he had strayed off the path of Good, when he had killed Jenna, had she wanted to end his life. What was so different now, that changed her so?.
"I thought you were dead...".
It was barely a whisper, barely a breath, and he hadn't really intended for it to be vocal. It was a lament, meant only for himself.
But it came out, and her eyes hardened at the words.
"How convenient. This happened before or after you screwed her?".
He raised an eyebrow at this. What was she talking about?.
"Forget it, I don't want to know".
As her words settled in, and registered into his tired brain, footsteps echoed in the chamber. And the look in Phoebe's eyes, scared, haunted, *lost* was too much to bear.
"Leave, now!".
There was a plea in her voice, and for a split second, he could actually picture the Phoebe he had known, in this shell that carried her voice and her scent.
"I won't leave you alone in here".
It was such a sudden change--- she was cold one second, pleading the next. What was going on?. Why did he feel as if the truth had just brushed past him, and he had completely missed it?. But still, his words did not change her answer.
"Fine. What do I care...".
He walked up to her again, and stretched out his hand, willing himself to restrain her, and shimmer her back to the Surface, away from this stench, were maybe he could talk some sense into her--- he was pulled back, as a physical force held him where he stood.
He grunted, as he felt the pull of the Charmed One's calling him. Soon, a white curtain separated him from Phoebe, keeping them away, keeping them apart. He fought it, fought it with every ounce of strength he had left in his tired body.
"Piper, no!".
He watched, helpless, as Phoebe's form blurred away, and the Underworld changed, shifted, taking him away from her.
"Phoebe!".
He stretched out his hand at her, hoping she would take it, and they would both be teleported away, to safety, to the Surface--- she made no move to approach him.
And that hurt Cole more than her words and her fireball.
Because it meant Phoebe was gone, really gone.
She didn't trust him anymore.
********************************
Phax was being torn apart by two sides of her heart. One clamored in happiness, as the Witches' call took him away from her, saving him from whoever was approaching. The other, was screaming in anger, and demanding an answer on why hadn't she killed him.
Why hadn't she, really?.
He was there, vulnerable, unbelieving... she would never get another chance like this one. And still, she hadn't moved. She had stood there, admiring his chiseled features, drinking in his appearance, something she hadn't done in quite a while.
The anger was still there, the hate still bubbled inside of her--- but it seemed the embers of their love still burned inside of her. It seemed the fire was still blazing, still burning, threatening to escape.
When she had first seen him, standing, a few feet away from her, proud and powerful, reeking of confidence, she had cursed the Gods above for her luck. She knew she wasn't ready--- both physically *and* mentally.
She was by no means a worthy opponent on the battlefield--- much less on the emotional one. His presence had brought such a mighty blow to her psyche that she had had to consciously tell herself not to pant, in a futile attempt to bring oxygen to her lungs.
She had gone up, to the Surface, with one simple mission in mind: kill an innocent. And then, everything had gone to hell, and they were there, and she didn't know what to do, and she had simply lashed out at them, like a caged animal.
And the look in his eyes, desperate, unbelieving--- she had hid her troubled mind behind mocking words and sarcasm, hoping, *needing* for him to go away. But he had remained where he was, looking at her as if she was this--- this circus freak, and she was getting nervous.
And then, the youngest Witch (she refused to pronounce their names--- it would mean acknowledging a past she was still fighting to bury) had spoken. And her words had carried a veiled threat in them, and the understanding of Phax's new condition.
The Witch had felt the changes in her, much sooner and quicker than Belthazor or the Older Witch. She still didn't know what would've happened if the Source hadn't called her when he did. She had welcomed the call, knowing a way out when it presented itself to her.
And she had shimmered away, pleased, even joyful, that she would not have to deal with them anymore--- stupid, so stupid!.
Of course he would follow her. To mock her, to laugh at her, to make fun of everything she had worked so hard to accomplish!.
She had wanted to kill him, she really had. The logical side of her knew that if she didn't kill him, the Source would kill her. But she hadn't been able to. She had tried, the fireball in her hand---
But still, once human, always human. Or at least, human qualities remained. And something inside of her lurched, when she realized he had come after her, had endangered his own life to follow her.
Her hands became fists, tight against her thighs.
She had been trained to be impossibly accurate. She never missed, period. She could hit a fly at a hundred feet... she had done it before. But she had missed with him.
God, why was it so damned hard?.
She had been tempted to accept his offer, to go with him, to escape--- his voice clouded her thinking, his body was too close, too near, and she had really considered stretching out her hand, touching his, just to feel his skin under her fingers one more time...
{Cole}
There it was again. Her heart was dead, she was evil, and still, his name felt good. She cursed under her breath, trying to ignore the song inside of her that had been going on ever since she had seen him again.
Had she really been willing to go with him?.
The answer struck her hard, and created a crack in the armor she had built around herself.
Yes.
Yes, she had been this close to taking his hand, and leaving this place--- the Source and his power over her be damned. But the image of the Oldest Witch wrapped around Belthazor, kissing, in such an intimate contact that it could not be mistaken for simple friendship came back to haunt her, and her resolve strengthened.
This was the bastard that had forced her to kill her daughter.
{my Prue}
And he had to pay for that.
Why did it bother her so?. Wasn't she over him?. Wasn't she ready to kill him, ready to punish him for what he had done to her, and her daughter?.
{you forget she was his daughter too...}
The derisive voice in the back of her head came back with a vengeance, preying on her weaknesses, and exposing them to her, without masks or disguises. It had been her endless companion, never sleeping, never stopping, never ending. It was always there, in the back of her head.
"Shut up!".
The voice died, leaving her alone.
Funny. She was supposed to be a demon now. Demons lacked a consciousness. Why did hers pester her, then?.
She had very little time to think about all of this, before Jhiera strode into the chamber, her eyes flashing with barely contained anger, and even a tinge of fear.
"You!. What the hell did you think you were doing?".
Phax scooped up the last of her pride, forced it up together, battered and bruised as it was, and spat an answer back at Jhiera.
"Nothing that should matter to you".
Jhiera's wrath was not an easy storm to face. Phax had learned that the hard way. But she was too riled up to keep her temper in check. Besides, she could tell she wasn't just angry, she was terribly afraid. That meant someone else knew about all of this---
"It matters all right!. This is *my* neck on the line, girlfriend!".
Oh, so that's what this stunt was all about. Jhiera was worried the Source would kill her if he ever found out she had shimmered away, leaving his most precious assassin-to-be alone up on the Surface...
"Why did you wait?. You know witches can scry for us!".
Phax turned her back on the older demon, and made a move to shimmer away to her quarters. She really, really needed some time alone now.
"Can it, all right?. I'm not in the mood for your hissy fits".
But before she could teleport away (her shimmering kept getting interrupted these days, it seemed), another form shimmered into the chamber. And Jhiera quieted immediately, and bowed respectfully, as the Source himself appeared between her and her rogue trainee.
"My Lord".
Her tone carried such an amount of fear that the Source could not help but be pleased. Besides, she was still useful--- good upper level demons were scarce these days, and Jhiera was one of his finest assets. That's why he wasn't going to kill her--- yet.
"Leave us".
Jhiera glared daggers at Phax, and a look that promised death if she spilled, and teleported away.
She needn't have worried. Phax was many things, and would be many more, but a traitor she was not. She knew she was the only one to blame for this, and would take the full brunt of the punishment by herself.
When the last traces of the she-demon disappeared into the stagnant air of the Underworld, silence settled on the chamber, as Phax felt the Source's piercing eyes fixed on her. But she remained silent, knowing that there were no words appropriate enough to excuse her for what she had done.
And then the pain came.
The energy ball struck her square in the chest, and sent her flying against the farthest wall. She grunted in pain, and bit her lip, tasting her own blood. But she did not scream. She would not scream.
"I do not let betrayal go unpunished, Witch".
She kept her eyes down, knowing that if she dared to look up, it would only anger him further. The best way to escape alive from the Source's anger, was to remain quiet, and to be as meek as possible.
"You compromised everything".
Another energy ball hit her, slamming her hard against the rocks holding her up. Her skull crashed against the stone, and she felt one of her ribs crack under the pressure of the magic.
"You let them see you".
His mind tendrils scooped her up, and dragged her towards him. Something hot, wet and sticky was running down her neck--- she was betting it was blood. And still, she remained silent.
"You let him follow you down here".
A black fingernail slowly caressed the mark on her forearm, and pain erupted within her, and this time, she did scream.
It was what the Source wanted. He relished in pain, and this woman's cries of anguish were especially sweet to him.
"You let him escape unscathed".
She slumped down, as the Source's telekinesis dropped her. Her mouth tasted dirt, and with the blood, it made a particularly nasty mix.
"Tell me one reason, one good reason, as to why I should not kill you".
She struggled up, and spit out the foul mixture invading her mouth. She cleaned her lips with the back of her sleeve, and looked up at the Source, through ruffled hair and sweat.
"I--- I can still kill them".
The harsh laughter that erupted from the darkness of the Source's hood was deafening to her ears, but she was too tired to cover them.
"Not good enough".
Next thing she knew, she was flying across the air, her body completely out of her control, and she had barely a second to brace herself for the impact. When it came, it was hard, harder than she had expected--- the Source was keeping her pushed against the rock, forcing her soft skin against the abrasive surface.
It wasn't long before the Source released her, and she fell down, but to her it seemed like ages. Coughing, fighting back the tears of agony, she tried again.
"I won't fail again. I will train harder".
As she tried to rise from the ungraceful heap she had become on the floor, the Source floated up to where she was, and looked down at her, as one looks at a cowering mouse in the kitchen corner.
"Yes you will. I will not be so forgiving next time".
He shimmered away, leaving her there, bleeding, crying, suffering--- it would be a long time before she would be able to fight again. Or even walk properly. She tried to move, tried to stand up, but it was useless.
She wasn't even strong enough to shimmer herself into her quarters.
Somehow, the pain of the shame hurt more than any wound the Source had inflicted upon her. The fact that she had failed, that she had been unable to control her feelings, and had hesitated like a teenager on her first date... she was a demon, damn it!.
She cried silently, refusing to let other demons notice her broken body lying in the corner.
Next time, next time she would be prepared. She would push away all the remnants of humanity that still clung to her to like a disease, forcing her to feel things she did not want to, experiencing rushes she did not need, and making her weak.
She vowed, that next time, *they* would be the ones bleeding.
Not her.
Never her.
***********************************
".... bring us the demon Belthazor here!".
Piper had had the presence of mind to drive back to the Manor before calling the missing demon. But that was all she was able to do, as her mind was a turmoil of things, of thoughts and memories and images and flashes, all coming together and splitting apart, making it hard to think.
Phoebe was alive.
Cole had gone after her.
She had frozen Phoebe.
Paige felt Phoebe was evil.
She took a deep breath, and tried to calm her thoughts. It didn't work.
As her words died down, she waited for the small white tornado to appear. For a few seconds, nothing happened, and an icy hand squeezed her heart. Was he dead?. Had they been too late?. She knew she wouldn't be able to handle another death in the family, another loss... not now, not when everything was upside down, and she was on the edge of insanity.
{Phoebe...}
Wind began picking up, and she leaned back into Leo's arms, relieved. He was alive.
Because the spell wouldn't be bringing them a dead body, right?.
Right?.
The magic was unstable, though. Cole was resisting it--- the windstorm trashed back and forth, and threatened the integrity of the living room's furniture.
When he did settle down, and the wind stopped blowing, there was a bewildered look in his eyes, as if he did not believe what he had just seen. He sighed loudly, but before he could shimmer away again, Paige spoke, knowing they only had a second before he disappeared.
"Cole, wait".
The half demon stopped, but remained taut and ready to finish the shimmer the second Paige stopped speaking. In fact, the only reason he had stopped in the first place was because Paige's tone carried a warning in it. And, out of respect for the friendship they had developed in the past year.
But mostly, because he realized they could call him back whenever they wanted to--- he probably wouldn't make it halfway down there, before the white magic forced him back, and brought him back to the manor.
"What?. She's down there, Paige. She's *alive*".
His voice, full of a hope they had not heard in a long time, struck a deep chord in all of them.
Paige gritted her teeth, and gathered her wits. Her heart reached out to him, but she knew he needed to hear this, needed to face it. He was in clear denial.
Back in the alley, when Phoebe had first unfrozen herself, the whitelighter inside of Paige had warned her. Her senses had flared up, roaring in her ears, deafening her. And she had fought against it, trying to make that half of her realize that the woman that was standing in front of them was her sister, not the demon of the day.
But then Phoebe had shimmered, and her doubts were erased.
And she had tried to warn them, tried to make them walk away--- and then things had done to hell. Phoebe had shimmered away, and Cole had followed her. She had considered orbing to the Underworld herself, and dragging him back to the Surface... but as impulsive as she was in her youth, there was also an amount of hard logic that keep her rooted on the spot.
She had dragged Piper with her, back to the car, back to the Manor, were she had broken the news to an awed Leo, as Piper recited the spell to bring Cole back.
And now it was her job to keep him here, to stop him from going after the only woman he had ever loved.
She cursed under her breath. Of all the things to do this week...
"She's not herself, Cole".
That was the understatement of the century. But still, when she vocalized it, it made it all the more palpable, all the more *real*, and for a split second, she wished she had remained silent.
But then her temper kicked in, and she decided this was not a time for the 'what if's... Cole needed to hear the truth, needed for it to slap him in the face, and wake him up from the Phoebe-trance he had dived into.
Cole looked away from her, anywhere but at her, at them, at the people he had grown to call a family--- ashamed to look into their eyes, afraid of what he might find in them.
Pity.
"I know that".
He did indeed know that. His stinging arm was enough proof. He had been within inches of her, just a few feet away, so close, so damn close---
His voice trembled right at the end of the sentence, as if his tight control over his feelings faltered for a split second.
"You don't understand, Cole. She's *evil*---".
"Paige, stop".
Piper's low whisper was enough to placate the youngest Witch, as she was this close to starting a diatribe that would've most certainly thrown Cole over the edge he careened towards ever since this morning.
"You followed her, didn't you?".
Somehow, Piper's calm question hurt Cole much more than Paige's tantrum-to-be. Because in the hushed voice she spoken in, he could read the pain, and the anger, and the sadness--- because they mirrored his own.
"Yeah".
The soft-spoken eldest sister sighed loudly, and sought support in Leo's body behind hers. She felt a small warm body nestling against her shoulder, and smiled sadly when Prue giggled in her ear.
"To where?".
Everyone knew the answer to that. It was as obvious as saying that the snow is white, and that the sky is blue. But they needed to hear it, needed to listen to the words reverberating in the old house, confirming the truth.
"Hell".
Piper closed her eyes, and fought back the tears. Paige just looked away, her brows furrowed in discomfort. She had mixed feelings about this--- she hated it that Piper hushed her, hated it that she hadn't trusted her enough to deal with Cole. But at the same time, she understood, she knew what all of this was about. She knew that Piper and Cole were closer than she was with the half-demon, and that Piper would have a better chance at breaking through to him than she had.
Leo held her wife close, and drank in her scent, as Cole's hands became fists, and he tried to keep the demon in him in check. It was hard... with emotions running so high, and sadness soaking the room, Belthazor threatened to spurt forward, to do what he did not dare.
Vent.
There was only one thing keeping him human... Phoebe's spiteful words. The demon name he had come to accept (or so he thought), up until Phoebe had awakened a different kind of hate in him.
He really had thought he had conquered the demon. He really did. Because never, in all the long year they had spent apart, had Belthazor fought so hard, and almost won. It seemed the very woman he had tried to renounce his demonic-half for, was the one that awoke the demon in him in the first place.
He sunk into the nearby couch, and hid his face in his hands. Gods, it was so hard!. The tempest inside of him was running strong, and now, all of this, and the silence, and the quiet, and the commiseration in their eyes---
"We might have a chance".
Paige's voice came out of nowhere, as she turned back to face them, and the spark of an idea danced across her eyes.
"What do you mean?".
Piper never moved from within Leo's arms, but her question hung in the air, waiting for an answer that Paige fought to make vocal.
"Phoebe is alive, right?. That means there's still hope!. Maybe-- maybe we could create a spell to call her here, and maybe, I don't know, tie her down, and reason with her, change her back!".
Paige was young, and had been at this Charmed duty for far less time than Piper or Leo. That's why she still kept hope, and refused to accept that Phoebe was just lost to them. And it was that faith that saved them all.
Leo craned his head to look down at his wife, remembering a conversation very similar to this one that they had some time ago. And in her eyes he saw a flicker of hope, and the realization that as long as Phoebe was alive, then they could still do something!.
Cole remained sitting, silently clutching his injured arm to his side, and biting his bottom lip. Everything was happening so fast, one thing after the other, and he hadn't had the time to really think about anything.
He needed to go down there, needed to find Phoebe!.
She was alive!.
{But she's also evil...}
The thought presented itself to him with such sudden clarity, that in an automatic response, his fingers clutched his wounded arm tighter, and he grunted in pain.
Yeah, she was evil.
The demon in him had recognized kin. The darkness in him had welcomed her own, even after bathing in Good for over a year now.
And she was also a demon. She could shimmer, and throw fireballs, as his stinging arm was proof of.
There was a part of him (that he fought every day since he had turned to the good side, ever since he had fallen in love with Phoebe), that rejoiced in the idea of her being evil.
He squashed it quickly, his own words coming back to haunt him.
'we can't both be evil...'
Destiny, it seems, is not without a sense of irony. He had tried so hard, so damned hard to be good, for her, all because of *her*, to be with her...
And just when he was accomplishing it, just when things were going down the right path, she was taken away from him, and turned...
The tables themselves were turned now. He was good (as good as he could ever hope to be), and Phoebe was evil.
Evil.
Strange, the word had a foul taste in his mouth, as he spoke it along with Phoebe's name.
What was the use then?. What was the use of all of this?. Of all the pain, and the suffering, and the sheer *agony*, if things did not look up?. He closed his eyes, trying to gather his thoughts, trying to keep them focused.
A soft coo interrupted him, and he looked up, and watched with the ghost of a smile as Prue stretched out her arms to him, and seemingly tried to speak.
"Dada".
His heart reached out to her, and he realized that this little girl, this little baby girl, made everything worth it. Everything.
Every single thing.
Because she was the result of his and Phoebe's love, in a time where things were better, and they still thought the future held happiness for them.
Leo tenderly disentangled himself from Piper's embrace, and moved in to put Prue in Cole's lap. The baby seemed happy about it, and clapped her hands in merriment.
But then, her blue eyes landed on Cole's burnt upper arm, and a frown clouded her pretty face.
"Bubu".
It was a low whisper, and if Cole didn't know Prue was still too little to really understand what was going on around her, he could've sworn the baby knew every single thing that had transpired between him and Phoebe.
"Yeah, honey. Daddy has a little bubu. It'll be gone in no time".
He nuzzled his nose against hers, but still, the frown in Prue's petite features did not fade. It was as if she was trying really hard to say something, and she just couldn't find the words...
"Mama".
Cole froze in his spot, his own eyes locked against Prue's. And for a split second, in those eyes raged a storm like no other he had seen before, and he could feel the knowledge pouring out of them, and he got a blurred glimpse of what she would one day become---
He pulled away, gasping. When he recovered his breath, he looked back at Prue's still form. The eyes of a four month old, clear, innocent, naive, greeted his questioning stare. It was as if it had all been his imagination, a trick of his tired mind...
"Did you see that?".
Leo turned to look at him, from the spot behind him where he was comforting a still shaken Piper. And in his eyes there was wonder, as to why the older man seem so agitated all of a sudden.
"See what?".
It was clear they had heard and seen nothing. And Cole didn't feel like explaining it, not just yet. He shook his head, dismissing the questions that were coming his way.
"Nothing".
As he turned back, his eyes caught Paige's. And in then, he saw the same awe that danced across his own.
**********************************
Paige had gotten a glimpse of what Cole had seen. It had been a coincidence--- she had just looked down at Cole, to tell him something, when she looked into Prue's eyes, and was scared of what she saw.
Prue's eyes were locked in an unresposive stare, reflecting a storm raging inside those blue orbs.
She had seen Phoebe when she got a premonition. And Prue's expression mirrored her mother's--- Prue had other powers besides shimmering!.
Cole raised a questioning eyebrow, and Paige slowly nodded, unsure if her eyes were playing tricks on her. She sat beside him, and Prue gurgled at her. She then attempted to crawl off Cole's lap and onto hers. Paige let her, and softly spoke to the shaken man next to her.
"She has premonitions".
It seemed the young girl did not suffer from the pain that accompanied Phoebe's visions. Or the body displacement that Phoebe experienced every time a vision slipped into her brain. It was probably due to her demonic heritage--- she was stronger than the average human.
Cole looked at his daughter, watched as she tried to make her way down Paige's lap and into the floor. Seemingly, Prue understood that Paige was smaller than he was, and that it would be easier to crawl off her, that it would be to do so off him.
He smiled, as her pretty scrunched face, tight with concentration wrong for a baby as small as she was, reminded him of Phoebe. The same cheeks, the same mouth--- and his eyes.
"Makes you wonder what she sees".
Cole scooped Prue up, and held her close. The baby protested a little, upset that she was being interrupted. But, she settled down in Cole's arms, and cooed happily, recognizing her father.
"She saw Phoebe".
It was strange, talking about her so detachedly. But he had no choice.
"We'll call her. She has to come. We might be able to talk some sense into her then".
A hesitant hand rested atop Cole's shoulder, and Paige's blood-red fingernails immediately lured Prue away from Cole's face.
"I know. It's just--- I never expected this".
Leo and Piper sat across them, having seemingly followed the entire exchange between them, and a worried look in their eyes.
"None of us did".
Silence settled on the room, blanketing the air with its unseeing weight, broken only by Prue's occasional gurgle and soft-spoken attempts at speaking.
They had many things to do--- they had to call Phoebe. They would have to summon her... and time was running out. But they needed to sit down, needed to collect their thoughts.
If the confrontation that loomed in the air was as cataclysmic as they felt it would be, then they would need this time of quiet. They wouldn't be having any for a long, long time.
*****************************
Phax had been lying on the floor for some time now. She couldn't really say how long, but it felt like a century. The Source had told her once, that time pasted differently in the Underworld. That time moved slower in Hell.
One day spent in the Underworld, could be at least a week on the Surface.
When she had been pregnant, time had changed for her--- she suspected the work of Tempus. And all because of her... a sad smile curled her lips, and she grunted as it stung. She had a split lip.
The baby needed a normal gestation period, and her human body couldn't adjust to the changes while she was pregnant. But after Prue had been born (she ignored the flash of pain that erupted in her heart), time had resumed it's normal flow.
She still had trouble coming to terms with it... especially now, when her whole body was hurting.
The Source's healing powers were taking their time, probably because the damage was so extensive, so big, it would still take days for her to heal.
Some time ago (hours?. Days?. Months?), she had shimmered to her room, avoiding confrontation with all the demons that roamed through the halls, waiting to pounce on her.
And there she had remained, alone, forgotten, trying her best to remain still.
She had been fighting consciousness, lapsing into restless sleep several times, where nightmares plagued her thoughts, and made her wake up screaming and crying. Ghosts of her past and present loomed in the air around her, and she could almost feel them laughing at her, mocking her...
The Source's sneer.
The kiss.
The murder of her daughter.
The betrayal of her family.
It all danced across her eyes, mixing, fusing, and becoming twisted versions of the truth, fueled by the magic running through her.
That was why she could only moan when she felt another magic settling upon her.
White magic.
The Witches' magic.
She tried to call the Source, to let him know what was happening. But she thought better, and remained silent. She had failed once.
She wouldn't do it again.
She would prove it to him that she wasn't a waste of time.
She closed her eyes, and willed the room to stop spinning. The magic was ripping her apart--- it battled with the darkness flowing through her, with the mark upon her forearm.
She was afraid.
Afraid that she would freeze up again. As much as she vowed to herself she wouldn't, she knew better. She knew that it would be hard--- harder than most things she had done so far.
But it was for the better.
If she screwed this up, the Source would kill her--- or worse. She had heard tales, rumors about what tortures the Source inflicted upon those who failed him. And death seemed appealing, compared to those poor jerks' destinies.
She cried out, as the white magic overpowered the dark for a split second, and her body dissolved in a flurry of white, as wind blew the sheets away from her bed, and danced across the now empty room.
Phax was on her way to the Surface.
**************************************
Tbc...
