** Chapter 14: The Calm before the Storm **,

by Lilian

lilian413@yahoo.com

AN: Finally!! I think it might be raining cows (or men... that would be lovely, wouldn't it? :0), because I am actually updating!

This chapter is dedicated to both Maria R and Gemini UK... you both helped me realize there's no gain without risk, and just get it the hell over with and post this damn thing. Thank you so much!

To all my wonderful readers, who held in there and waited patiently for me to update. I am sorry to have kept you waiting for so long, and I promise it won't happen again. I do hope you enjoy this chapter, andthe many that are on the works.

A word of advice (and self-promotion): I recommend you go back and read the story-- or at least the last few chapters to understand some of the things going on here.


Read on, and review please!


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


The Source smiled as he watched Phax kill her latest victim.

Had one been looking hard enough, there was pride in that smile--- similar to a father looking at his only daughter twirl in her prom dress. He watched with glee as Phax struck down over and over again, clearly at ease with her task.

The whimpering human girl never stood a chance.

She was a Witch in training, belonging to what would one day become one of the most powerful covens in the city humans called San Francisco. Well, thanks to his untimely intervention, not anymore.

Dana Cranston would've grown into her role as the leader of a powerful new generation of witches--- had she lived long enough to actually realize her dreams were prophetic and not the result of too much late night studying.

The Source laughed, and the sound was like nails being drawn over a board--- scratching, unnerving and downright terrifying. It was enough for Phax to halt in her attack, hand raised and ready to strike down one more time. She looked up at her master, eyebrow questioning...

"Finish her, Phax".

The cattish grin that curled Phax's lips was inhuman in its evil, and the Source felt another surge of accomplishment as he watched the product of many hours of work get back to business.

Was this the same whimpering witch that had once been his worst headache? Was this deadly woman the same Charmed One who had turned one of his most powerful assassins into her lap dog and been this close to actually finishing *him* off?

A ghost of a memory (more like a what-could've-been) made the Source shiver under the darkness of his hood, as his pre-sentient abilities allowed him a glimpse of another timeline. This witch and his own fate seemed to be linked...

Whatever the case, the witch was his now. His to control, his to command... and the thought brought him much more pleasure than he ever thought he could feel. To see the once paragon of good twisted and reshaped into the dark, wicked demon that was now wiping the blade of her athame against her pants, trying to get witch blood out of it was just too ironic.

Who would've thought that Good's avatars would make such excellent demons? So much precious talent gone to waste... he remembered the oldest one, Prue. That woman had had the potential he sometimes longed to see in his lines of demons. But Prudence had been unturnable, and he knew it.

Phoebe, on the other hand, was different. She had always been different. Her mother had felt it, and so had the old hag--- right from the moment she came crying and wailing out her mother's womb, and even before. Patricia Halliwell had experimented visions while carrying the baby, and that was something he had never heard before.

Born inside the manor, Phax was the result of the mixture of ley lines and magic so ancient the Halliwells had barely began to grasp it. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, and Phax had teetered on the edge for quite some time before he set his eyes on her.

Piper Halliwell and Paige Matthews were of another crop--- both with their morals clear, their minds clean. Pure witch blood, untainted with shadows...

"Master?".

Phax's voice awoke him from his reverie, and he noticed the young woman was standing in front of him, athame strapped to her hip. The smell of burnt human flesh permeated the room, and the telltale ashes were evident on the otherwise black floor. So, she had burnt the corpse away... he had been in her mind when she had killed her first innocent. He had been there when she was been consumed by doubts and hesitation, still debating with herself whether it was the right move to make.

Truth to be told, he had been surprised to realize she was doing it. All in all, he had never expected her to be so completely under his control. He had prepared everything for the refusal to kill he had *known* would come when she would be face to face with her first human victim.

The refusal had been there, as had been the horror of watching the body burn away. But she had done it anyway... the power of hatred run deep in the witch's veins, much more than he could've ever anticipated.

Where was all the doubt and hesitation now? He smiled as he watched the torches reflected in her black eyes... now this, this was the ultimate weapon. Once a witch now a demon--- with enough knowledge fromboth sides to belong to none, and yet still, with her loyalties firmly in place. He had made sure of that.

"You are dismissed, Phax".

The demoness bowed respectfully, and shimmered away. The Source was left alone in the throne room, the thirteen candles flickering away around him.

Things were good.

He had the witch totally under his control.

He waved his hand about, and a glowing sphere of light appeared from thin air, hovering slightly above his stretched hand. Light green in color, it was of a brilliance seldom outmatched, and the perfect spherical shape held one of his most precious possessions as of yet: the witch's soul.

He looked deep into it, and felt amused at the way it seemed to shy away from his stare. Without a conscience to speak of, Phax's soul could still feel the iniquity of his presence, and the inherent good within it rebelled against its constraints. But there was little it could do to escape... with no power whatsoever, it was just a pawn in his game, and would continue to be so until he saw fit.

The potion the witch had drunk all those weeks ago had proven successful in removing the soul out of her. More so, it had eradicated the last strands of good from her being, rendering her a husk inhabited by hatred, anger and anything else he decided.

She still retained all of her memories, but he could toy with them as he pleased. Through their Blood Link he could mold her recollections into whatever he wanted, pushing some of them back and presenting her with the scariest and worse moments of her life.

It was an easy job, considering all the work he had done prior to the removal of her soul. He had paved the way for an easy takeover, and he was much pleased with the results.

The glowing globe changed colors to a light yellow, as if in response to his thoughts.

{Yes. Be afraid, little witch. Be very afraid}.

What he held in his hand was as much Phax as the demon that had just left his presence. In a way, he held a part of her, a side that he had chosen to remove from her as one does with a tumor. So, it was still connected to him, albeit the link was much dimmer.

His mark on the witch was deep, and it would forever keep them connected.

Curling his long, red fingers around the sphere, he squeezed... a distant scream of pain echoed around him, and the way the soul pulsed and burned under his hold was addictive. So much torture, so very little time...

Releasing his grab on the small orb, knowing his own strength sometimes got carried away, he tucked it back within his robes.

The witch was his. And the time for revenge was looming closer.


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



Jhiera was getting drunk. She could feel it in the way the room swayed around her in rhythm with the music blaring through the loud speakers, and she fought back the urge to blast this damn club and its ridiculous customers all to hell.

The booze was good, and besides, the owner was a demon himself, and would not take lightly to the fact she had decided to put him out of business. Instead, she simply sat there, clutching a glass of (what the hell was she drinking, anyway?) in her right hand, while her left fingers tapped on the bar table.

"Lonely?".

An impossibly cheery face sat next to her, and her answer was lost amidst the techno music and dizzying strobe lights. She did not have the time nor the energy to put up with pathetic, horny males with too much time on their hands, who thought she was an easy lay.

She chose to ignore the newcomer, and focused her attention on the dark liquid swirling in her goblet.

Damn Phax. Damn Phax and the Source's infatuation with her. Damn them all to hell.

She had been escalating in the Underworld ladder, making her way into a male-dominated world, winning a reputation of her own. Through lies, deceit, treachery and back-stabbing (what's a little treason among friends, right?), she had reached a point few other female demons had ever been--- just a few steps back from being invited to join the Brotherhood of the Thorn itself, she was a breath away from gaining the spotlight she deserved.

And then in came the renegade witch, and wham!, her best-laid plans all sent to hell, because the Source thought she made a fancy new toy. And to make her humiliation worse, he had anointed *her* as the witch's mentor, forcing her to swallow her hate and train the pitiful human.

And the damn woman was good at it! She thought she could've handled it if Phax actually failed at anything she did--- but the woman was blessed! Everything she set her mind to, she accomplished. And even if her original task (killing the Charmed Ones) was still undone, Jhiera knew it was because the Source had kept her from doing it, rather than because the newborn she-demon was unable to do it.

So, here she was, sitting in a human club on a Thursday night, trying to forget.

"Hadn't seen that look on your face in quite a while, Jhiera".

She started at the mention of her demon name. Looking at the man sitting next to her, her purple eyes widened as she took in his appearance:

"Shier!".

The handsome demon nodded slowly, winking at her. "Long time no see". Jhiera took a sip from her drink before answering. "I thought you were settled in Europe by now, Shier. Rumor had it you were retiring".

The cocky smile on Shier's lips was inviting, and the sparkle in his eyes told Jhiera he was looking forward to the remainder of the evening. Well, he had another thing coming! She wasn't the young, foolish demoness she had been back in the 20's, when they had first crossed paths.

The bitter taste of her drink running down her throat was very much like the acrid memory of her failure: she had been young and eager--- he had coerced her into telling him everything he wanted to know, and taken what could've been her greatest accomplishment away from her.

"Sadly for you, the thought never crossed my mind".

As Shier sat up straight on the bar stool next to her and ordered another round of drinks for both of them, Jhiera couldn't help but notice the way his muscles rippled under the silk shirt, the way his impossible green eyes shone from under his ebony bangs...

Damn it! She slammed her drink down, uncaring of the way the strong liquid splashed out of the glass and into her hand. She wasn't a fledgling anymore! What the hell was wrong with her? Why couldn't she control herself whenever he was around?

He had been the main reason she had left the Old World and had moved down here to the States, to get away from his piercing stare and knee-melting caresses... under his shadow she would've withered and died like a flower without sun, and she knew it. Why in the hell wasn't she walking away, then?

What was keeping her rooted to her spot, mesmerized by the way his collar was unbuttoned just right and seemed to flash her a healthy amount of skin every now and then?

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from bolting when he turned to look at her. She was powerful, more powerful than she had ever dreamed she could be. And she was a damn good demon--- she was standing her ground against him, even if it killed her.

"For old times", he said, softly pushing another drink in her direction. As he raised his own glass and waited for her to do the same, Jhiera locked stares with him, and refused to look away. Her hand found the cold glass and she held onto it for dear life.

What was he doing here? And why in the Source's name had she forgotten the unearthly viridian of his pupils? She lost herself in them, and barely noticed the ethilic haze pouring down her throat.

Bastard.

He was doing it again... and he knew it. Jhiera could see the smirk of triumph behind those seemingly innocuous eyes, could see the way he was giving himself the hands up while he appeared nonchalant about the whole thing.

"Asshole".

Her hiss left her lips quickly, and the way his grin fell felt like a victory to her. She shook his spell off of her, and set her drink down. Throwing a couple of bills on the table, she stood up and walked away from him, the satisfying feeling of release spreading through her being.

She had done it!

She felt the disturbance in the air before she saw him shimmer in front of her. "You know better than to do that in here, Shier. Rules forbid it".

When she looked into his eyes, she felt a sharp, sudden pang of fear creeping up her spine. Shier was an upper level demon, and a powerful one at that---- as soon as it had come, the storm of anger faded away from his pupils, and the assertive grin was back in place.

"Kindran will forgive me. You, on the other hand...". Forced together by the movement of the faceless crowd around them, Jhiera felt his hand encircling her waist and pulling her towards him. Her initial resistance soon fled her mind when he leaned in and whispered in her ear: "I dream about you, Jhiera... did you know I was devastated when you left Paris?".

She fought the fog of sexuality that he seemed to exude from his every pore, and prayed he could not hear the frantic beating of her heart. "Funny way you had of showing it", she spat back at him, alluding to his reputation as a womanizer and freeloader.

He laughed against the soft skin of her neck, and it wasn't long before she realized they were in the middle of the dancing floor, weaving through the human herd like a hot knife through butter. He was sweet-talking her away from the door, and she knew it... but she felt too drugged to really do anything about it.

"Those exquisite eyes of yours haunt me, lover... remember our times together?". He suggestively pressed himself against her, and Jhiera shivered unwillingly, the memory of their time stalking the dark, enchanting nights of Paris together jumping forth with a vengeance.

How could she forget? How could she forget the thrill of the hunt as they chased the vampires back into the sewers? And the mind-blowing sex marathons...

She grunted when he pushed her against a wall, away from prying stares and curious perverts. She let him work his hands under her skirt, and she clung to him for dear life when his fingers found her skin.

This... this was...

The idea hit her out of the blue, and the devilish smile that curled her ruby red lips was lost as she entwined her hands in his hair.

She realized her power over him, power she had never realized she had--- as a woman, she had the ability to control men at her will. Demons hid it well, but *he* had sought *her* out, and was now trying to have his way with her. She let her fingers stroke his neck, her leg sliding up his own like a snake in its fluidity.

"I have a proposition for you".

Her voice came out panting and throaty--- she didn't really care, because she knew he was far too gone to deny her anything. She cursed herself for not realizing this earlier, but maybe it was for the best--- if she played her cards right, she just might have the ally she needed to get Phax out of the way.

"Do you, lover?", the way he purred against her breasts was fierce, and through the corner of her eye, she saw a blushing human couple skittering away. Her hand found its way into his shirt, and when her nimble fingers caressed the skin underneath, she felt him stiffening under her, and she smiled.

"Later", she promised, as she lost herself in the world of uncanny pleasure he offered her.

Later indeed, she vowed. Later, she and Shier would conjure up the plan needed to get Phax out of the picture, and earning her the recognition she deserved.

The witch was going down.



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


Piper was having one hell of a day. First, the three orders of beverages she had placed for the P3's supplies never arrived, due to some mistake in the delivery track. Then, two of her waitresses had resigned: Pauline lived with her parents and they had threatened to disown her if she continued working in that Den of Iniquity. Lydia had decided to continue her studies full time, and working night shifts wasn't doing it for her anymore.

And now, to top it all, she had no band to perform tonight.

She sighed, and rubbed her temples, trying to chase the migraine away.

"Need some help, sis?".

Paige's overly chirpy voice made Piper entertain the idea of strangling her younger sister... the idea quickly fled, when a comforting hand was placed on her shoulder, and a pack of ice was softly pressed against her forehead.

She opened her eyes, and thanked the Gods she had a sister who could read people as well as Paige could.

"If you can magically produce a band for tomorrow night, I'd owe you forever".

At Paige's raised eyebrow, Piper backtracked. "On second thought, forget I ever said that".

Paige shook her head slightly, the smile in her face never once leaving her lips. "I won't tell if you won't".

Piper mock slapped her sister's shoulder, and bent down to retrieve some bills she had been trying to order.

"So, any plans for tonight?".

As she spoke, her fingers began doing the calculations needed to adequately use P3's budget, in a habit born out of endless nights doing the same thing. Confident in her own abilities, Piper let her fingers do the work, and focused on the slight blush that was covering Paige's cheeks.

"Oh, I see".

Paige did not waste any time trying to fool her older sister. Piper had that annoying power that only mothers possess to just *know* whenever people are hiding something--- and besides, she had nothing to hide.

Yet.

"Glenn?".

Nodding once, Paige continued to play with the stray straws in front of her, until she finally settled for just one that was bent out of its original shape rather quickly.

"I don't see what the problem is, then".

Piper put the ice pack down, and thanked whoever was listening for the coolness that calmed the impending migraine. As she carefully put the ice pack on a plate to avoid the staining of her bar, she looked at Paige, all downcast looks and wriggling feet, and couldn't help the smile that came to her lips.

"Paige? I can't read minds. Not yet, anyway".

In response, the black haired young woman raised her eyes, and Piper quickly shut up when she noticed the flicker of uncertainty dancing in those green-blue eyes. Putting both calculator and club-manager mode aside, she made her way across the bar, and sat on the stool next to Paige. Placing a comforting hand on her sister's shoulder, she asked again.

"What is it, honey?".

Silence settled on the otherwise empty club, but Piper had two other sisters whom she had drilled troubles out of-- she knew the Halliwells could easily clam up and remain stubbornly quiet when the heart was concerned.

Especially when the heart was concerned.

It had taken many (obvious) pushes to get Prue to actually consider the idea of dating Andy, and Phoebe--- well, Phoebe was a story in herself. She stomped on the twinge of sadness that erupted in her heart at the thought of her younger sister. She had another sister to take care of first.

"I'm afraid".

Paige's whisper barely registered with Piper, and when it did, a whole lot of things made sense. Every Halliwell had gone through this very same problem---

Worrying about what to tell and what to hide from a loved one.

Sure, in the end, neither she nor Phoebe had had to worry about that, seeing as Leo had proven to be their very own Guardian Angel, and Cole was a half-demon sent to kill them... but Andy had been none of those.

And he had gotten caught in the crossfire.

Now that she thought of it, Piper doubted Paige knew much about Prue... or Andy for that matter. They had never really sat and talked about her, though not for lack of trying.

At first, Piper had been afraid to let Paige in, afraid that somehow she would replace Prue. When she had gotten over that, it had been Paige who was the one afraid that she wasn't living up to the memory of the sister she never met. And then--- well, after that, things had gone to hell, and they rarely had the time to even sit down and talk about the weather, least of all about Prue.

If Piper's memory served her right, Glenn had returned sometime last year. As a matter of fact, just a few days after--- after Phoebe had disappeared. Paige had been in no condition to be concerned about him, but Piper did remember him being around the house sometimes, just keeping her youngest sister company.

Not that she had ever thanked him for that, but still. She made a mental note to call the young man...

It seemed that after making sure Paige was not falling apart, he had left again. Where he went, Piper had no idea, but it must've been imperative for him to leave when his not-so-girlfriend was suffering.

Coming back to it, Piper realized she hadn't answered yet, and Paige was looking at her all wide eyes and questioning look, wanting, needing an answer. An answer only Piper could provide, and sadly, an answer there was no real answer for.

Piper stopped at that, wondering if Paige's way of speaking wasn't rubbing off on her.

"You're wondering if it will be worth it?".

They had agreed, some time ago, to not let anyone in on their secret. Now that they had a powerful enemy out for their Wiccan blood, they could not dare endanger innocents simply by telling them that they were witches...

Paige had accepted never to tell anyone, and that wasn't what was worrying her---

"I'm supposed to meet him tonight. Pre-Valentine's celebration, and I don't know what to do!".

Piper sighed to herself, and brushed a nonexistent speck of dust off of her pants. "You think they'll go after him?".

There was no need to ask who 'they' were. Paige nodded slowly, pushing the remaining strands of the straw away, and picking up another one. "I mean, how do I know I'm not signing his death sentence by going out with him? How do I know they're not keeping tabs on us, just waiting to attack?".

Piper wanted to tell Paige to forget it, to cancel on Glenn, to remain safe, hidden... but she knew better. She had Leo to turn to, she had a husband to lean on. Cole had baby Prue, a reason to live for... and Paige had no one.

A loving family, yes. Trusted friends, yes. But no one to love. And Piper knew how devastating that kind of loneliness could get. So, swallowing back down the bitter taste of responsibility, she gave Paige's back a good rub, encouraging her further.

"Paige, you can't do this to yourself. You should go tonight".

The emerald depths that locked stares with her were surprised. Honestly, Piper was surprised too. But then it all made sense... they were just helping the demons by remaining lonely and isolated. Humans are social beings by nature, and sooner or later, they were going to need outer company. Paige was the youngest, and that was probably why she was snapping the first.

"We have lived far too long in the shadows. Go, have fun for a while. You can always call us if something goes wrong, or orb away if the situation calls for it. We'll spray some memory dust on him if we have to".

Piper brushed a lock of hair behind Paige's face, and firmly repeated.

"Go. You deserve it".

As a small child just told that whatever she did wasn't wrong, Paige was hesitant, and did not bolt from the stool just yet. Although she really wanted to... Piper saw the doubt still lingering in her eyes, and pushed her softly on her way to the door.

"Go".

The smile that flashed across Paige's lips was something Piper hadn't seen in a long time, and it made all the soft chiding worth it. The younger woman turned on her heels, and started up the stairs, before coming to a stop, tapping her fingers against the railing of the stairs.

Before Piper had even asked what was wrong, Paige turned back, and hugged her sister tightly. Surprised, it took Piper a few seconds to react, but soon, both young women were hugging tight, just comforting each other.

"Thank you, Piper", Paige's soft voice whispered against Piper's ear, and she tenderly caressed the back of Paige's back. "You're welcome, honey. You're most welcome".

They remained like that for a few more moments, until Piper softly disentangled herself from the embrace, and again pushed Paige to the door.

"Now go, you have a date to get ready for".

As Paige practically flew up the flight of stairs, she never noticed how Piper brushed her eyes to push a few tears away.


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


Phax was tired.

As she sat by the vanity, her nimble fingers picked up the hairbrush and slowly began grooming her hair. It was getting longer... after she had zinged it away during her first training sessions, she had let it grow. It was back to her old length, and even longer... it cascaded down her back, the blonde dye gone.

The Source didn't like it.

Neither did she, for that matter. It reminded her of days long past, of a past she'd rather forget. She had gone blonde in hopes of making a change in her life. Now that she had succeeded at that, what was the need of coloring her hair anymore?

Besides, black looked better on her. It went with her eyes...

The torches hanging from the walls illuminated the room quietly, the occasional creak and snap of the magical fuel being consumed breaking the silence every now and then. Thanks to the mirror in front of her, she could see the way her shadow cast a slim darkness on the grainy soil. It flickered and waved around her with a mind of its own, perhaps in reminiscence of the demon her former lover had once controlled, or perhaps simply because it wanted to.

This was one of the things that unsettled her whenever she went to the Surface. In the Underworld, there was no Sun. Light escaped from the darkened corridors, as if fearing the things it could unveil should it ever permeate the halls. That was why the Demon World relied on torches and fires to see--- not that demons needed light to see per se, but it was an evocative gesture of instinct, back in the old days when demons and humans alike dwelt in the world above.

As she stood up straight and watched with a grim smile as her reflection did the same, she wondered what other things did fate have in store for her. She had once been a powerful Witch (a past she know remembered with disgust and pity), protecting the so called innocent humans from the forces of Evil.

She was a powerful Demon now, created to kill and destroy, to bring mayhem and chaos wherever she was sent to---

Had it been only a few weeks ago when she had been ravaged by doubt, torn apart by feelings? She scoffed at the memory of her own weakness. Whenever she remembered the days prior to that night, it was all blurry and distorted. It was like remembering a dream--- she only got flashes and glimpses, and all along, the distinct feeling that there had been something wrong with her until she had met the Source.

What she had drank that fateful night, she still did not know. And she probably never would, but it didn't matter now.

She was whole, for the first time ever.

She had come full circle, finally shedding the last remnants of miserable humanity--- she thought of them as nothing but enemies now. The Halliwells were her enemies and so was Belthazor... the traitor who had dared beguile her into believing in love and broken her heart in the process.

The strange thing was, she felt no different. She could still remember the death of her own daughter, could still feel remorse in the back of her mind whenever she remembered her birth--- but there were no tears and no pain, just--- sadness.

Regret that her daughter had not lived, regret that the Demon World had lost such a powerful warrior. She could see her mistake now--- she had killed her own daughter in hopes of saving her from what she had then thought was Hell.

How stupid she had been.

Hell was the Surface, where low, vermin-like creatures crawled and slithered, engrossed in staying alive for another day, in seeing the sun rise another morning--- she had shed the veil covering her eyes and she could see the truth now.

She had been destined to become Phax. From the moment she had been born, everything she had ever done, everything she had ever thought had been another step towards the goal of her lifetime--- breaking the human carcass, and becoming a demon.

Prue had been her chance of giving back her master everything he had ever done for her. Lost in between the limbo of demonhood and humanity, she had failed to see it. She knew better now.

She slowly placed the hairbrush down, and brushed a few rebellious strands of hair away from her face.

The day was tomorrow.

Tomorrow, her revenge on her family started.


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


Tbc...