Change of Heart

Chapter 1: The Taking

by Lilian.

lilian413 at yahoo dot com

Author's Note: okay. I got very pissed off when I watched 'Black as Cole'. I set out to correct what I (still) think was a big mistake, and decided to branch off a moment I thought could be exploited much further. Read and find out what I'm talking about.

Dedicated to Barb: she shares my love for the characters and believed when my faith wavered. Without you, this would have never been possible.


.

I never wanted this. I never have and, until I draw my last breath, I never will. Sometimes I think this is just some sort of freaky dream--- one from which it has taken me two long years to wake up. Two years of my life, lost.

Gone.

And I have changed. In more ways than one. I think I'm just a shadow of the woman I was back then. Almost three years spent in hell will do that to you.

Hell. Literally.

Prue is sleeping beside me now. I named her after the aunt she never met. Maybe some day she will, when she's old enough. But not now. Not when the pain is still too fresh and the wounds are still bleeding... I thank the Goddess that she was unharmed during the battle.

My small Prudence--- so young, she was so young! Barely a few hours old, I don't know how she managed to escape, but I'm just thankful that she was protected, even if I missed the first two years of her life. Somehow, she learnt how to shimmer even before she could talk.

She's got her father's intelligence. Which is good, because if she was even half the twit I turned out to be, she wouldn't have made it out of there. And my beautiful baby would have been twisted into a monster, and evil would have taken hold of her, and I would have never forgiven myself. I wonder if it would have made a difference if the others had known I was pregnant at the time. Would they have made more of an effort to come after me? After the baby? Would they have tried to save her?

I think it was her demonic side that sensed danger. Demons usually have the strongest of survival instincts… don't ask me why. Even in my current state, I could not tell you.

During those first months, I never knew where little Prue went when she shimmered away. I only learned the truth that awful day at the Manor, when I almost killed them all. When I let him almost kill them all. Prue went to her father. How she knew, I will never understand. But he told me how one day, this baby popped out of nowhere, and how, at first, he didn't know why she calmed down only when he held her.

Cole.

Memories of him have been flooding my mind for the past few days now. Of us. Of who I was. Once upon a time, one of the Charmed Ones. That is not who I am now. I don't know who I am anymore… I am not Phoebe Halliwell, and I am no longer that demonic assassin, Phax. That's who he wanted me to be. Loyal servant to the Source, once a Charmed One and now a murderer. I have been his for the past two years, and will continue to be till the day I die. A vow such as the one I took is never to be broken.

We are blood linked. His blood is mine and my blood is his, and as such he can never die if I do not die as well.

The Source was never a demon to be underestimated. I know that now. He threatened to kill my baby if I ever attempted to escape, and that proved enough chain to keep me by his side. He knows I would not try to run, because he held the key to my baby's life. And he also knew that it was only a matter of time before he could use my powers for his own good.

He knew he could turn me.

I had taken away one of his most powerful servants, Belthazor. And he was going to make me pay for it. Big time.

By turning me into his newest assassin.

He engraved his mark upon my flesh. I still cringe when the memory floats back to me, still fresh, still new, even after all these years. I allowed him to mark me. I gave him permission to scar my skin, to mark me as his own... all out of spite.

Out of hate.

I blamed him for a long time for that: I never knew I could feel such pure, undiluted hate. I know better now. He did not push hatred into me. He merely enhanced that which was already there and erased all traces of humanity left in me, just to make sure I wouldn't turn against him like Belthazor had. If there's one thing the Source is, it is smart.

I trace the inverted triangle on my forearm, scratching it absently as if somehow that simple gesture will erase it. But it's imbedded too deep. And it would do me no good. It's only the physical manifestation that the Source owns me. Like one owns a toy.

And it all started over two years ago. On that day.


.

The day Cole proposed to me.

I had driven back to the manor with my futile efforts of convincing Emma of Cole's good intentions still fresh in my mind. I never noticed the strange aura that clung around the house. I swear, to be located on overlapping magical circles it sure couldn't protect itself. After all, demons came and went, around and through the manor as if they owned the place.

I opened the front door and as I stepped inside, I immediately called out Cole's name. I was worried he would do something stupid, because that is the way he did things: he tried to be noble without worrying about the consequences, and I feared he would go into the Underworld to try and solve things himself.

No one answered.

An air current brushed against my cheek and for a split second, I thought it was Cole, shimmering in behind me, responding to my call. How could I have forgotten what my sisters told me about assuming things? The strong body that pressed against me was most certainly not Cole.

When the cold blade of the athame caressed my neck, I froze, and held my breath in surprise.

Sykes.

I should have known it. Should have reacted sooner.

It would have been great to have an active power back then. Premonitions and levitation did me no good. And I couldn't even throw him over my shoulder... his body was conveniently positioned to resist any of my attempts at kickboxing.

"What do you want?" I demanded, and my voice trembled slightly. I knew my bravado had not fooled him.

"The same thing you do. Except I call him Belthazor", he gloated, that stench that signals 'demon' permeating the air around us. He wanted Cole.

All thoughts about my own safety flew from my head at that point and all I could think about was a way to keep Cole safe. He deserved a chance at happiness and I would be damned if I was going to let this pathetic excuse for a demon take it away.

I tried to reach for the potion inside my bag, the power-stripping potion I fixed for Cole way back when... when Prue was still alive, and things were well, and I hadn't been proposed to by the man I love, and I hadn't seen the look of despair in his eyes when I said no—I realized the bag had fallen from my trembling fingers and laid between my feet, the potion in open view. It mocked me, with the red liquid inside the bottle swirling around like diluted blood.

"And I don't need a potion to vanquish him", Sykes continued. His breath was hot and heavy against my ear. I shivered in disgust, everything that was human in me rebelling against his proximity. "I just need you", he finished, and before I could call out for help, he had shimmered us out of the manor.

And out of my life.


We reappeared in the Underworld. I had been here before and I knew the stench, the dark and the cold... but it was still a shock to my system.

I dropped down to the floor, limp and sapped of any strength. I was slightly surprised by the energy drain, because it hadn't happened the last time I had been here. But then, I had also being running high on adrenaline--- with Sykes, it was different.

It probably had a lot to do with the fact the Source himself was standing before me.

I had only seen him once before, through the enchanted lenses. Even then he had scared the bejeezus out of me. And to see him in full physical form, less than a few feet away, was enough to draw all the air out of my lungs.

"A Charmed one. Interesting", he commented in a deep voice that reverberated across the stonewalled chamber.

The soft candles lying about were not enough to penetrate the darkness of his robes. Nothing ever is, because he is the deepest, darkest of shadows ever to disgrace this world.

Sykes towered over me, the athame still in his hand. He seemed as surprised as I was to be standing in front of the Source.

"What are you doing?" Sykes demanded, "I need to go back and kill him!" It was probably the adrenaline, or whatever substitute demons possess that made him speak up like that. Even I knew when to stay quiet.

"You dare question my actions, Sykes?" the Source asked in a slow, menacing tone that sent shivers down my spine.

Rage flared through his eyes and Sykes took a step forward as he ranted, "Like hell, I do! You had no right to shimmer us here! I was doing just fine!" Even after all these years, I still don't know how I could tell the Source smiled at Syke's insolence. But I knew. And I knew what was about to happen.

"Then your services will no longer be needed", the higher demon stated simply. He waved his hand about, red skin reflecting the candlelight, and surprisingly enough, I felt the air around me drop ten degrees or so. And then Sykes exploded.

I covered my face with my arm, tried to shield it from the blazing heat that erupted from the demonic torch in front of me—a few embers landed on the back of my hand and I remember shrieking in pain.

And then we were alone, the Source and I. That's when I realized maybe Sykes hadn't been such bad company after all.

"Rise, witch", he addressed me with that smug tone I have since then come to despise. He knew I couldn't fight him. Not alone. And certainly not when my powers were at their lowest. And he knew I knew, which just bugged the hell out of me.

I struggled to stand tall but the shock of the sudden shimmer was still running through my system and I only managed to hunch over slightly. Only Cole has ever managed to make shimmering a pleasant experience—Cole! The unconscious thought of him suddenly reminded me he was still in danger. Cole, and Piper and Paige and Leo.

Of course, the Source picked up on my emotions. In almost a gleeful tone, he spoke. "Ahh, yes. You are afraid, are you not?"

My eyes snapped up, and I tried to glare at him. It didn't work. I remained silent, struggling with the weight of evil pressing down on me.

"Good". How could it be that he said so many things with that one word?

I stood there, wishing for a miracle to happen—a miracle I was convinced would never happen. Other than my beautiful Prue, I don't think I believe in miracles anymore. The Source approached me and I fought back the urge to cringe in fear. It's his aura—it reeks of power and evil and just—it devours you.

"You are strong, witch. Stronger than I thought. I see why Belthazor took a liking to you", he commented, with what I thought sounded like slight surprise. Anger bubbled up inside of me as I realized I was standing in front of the being that created Belthazor, the ruthless demonic mercenary.

"Don't you dare say his name", I hissed at him through clenched teeth.

I could tell he smiled at my audacity (or stupidity, if you think about it), and a red skinned hand reached out to me through the long sleeves of the robe. He grabbed my chin firmly and forced me to look deep inside the darkness of his hood.

"I dare, witch."

And for a split second, I saw what was behind the cloak and I screamed.

Because it was Cole's handsome face that greeted my wide eyes.


It took me a minute or two to stop screaming and a couple more to stop the twitching of my body. And all along, the deep, vicious laugh of the Source rang in my ears.

"Amusing. This", he said, waving his hand in my direction, "is one of the mighty Charmed Ones? How truly pathetic."

I fought back the bile that rose in my throat when I realized he was just playing games with me. God knows how many years he's been toying with me. With us. And I played right into his trap.

When I finally found the courage to look back at him, he'd completely morphed into Cole. Cole... with his blue eyes and strong chin and handsome body... The Source had gotten it right down to the last detail, that little scar on the side of Cole's cheekbone.

"No", I managed to whisper as I closed my eyes shut. My head was thumping and I was so dizzy—what was wrong with me? Still, the Source heard me. For all I knew he was listening to my thoughts. I'm still not sure whether he's capable of that or if he's just that good at reading body language.

"Oh yes. Isn't this what you wanted to see, Phoebe? Didn't you want to see me?" I heard Cole ask. Cole's voice, his lovely voice that would purr my name like a caress... he would whisper sweet nothings to me when we lay awake in bed after making love…

"You're not him", I tried to say, but my words were muffled and incoherent. God, what was happening to me? I couldn't think straight and the world was beginning to spin.

"Oh, but I am, darling. I am", Cole's voice reassured me, and it was so easy to believe him. I looked to the ground, to the soil... Goddess, and I begged for strength. But even the earth is polluted there. Foul and stagnant, the blood of millions seeping into the ground and I just couldn't take it anymore.

"Phoebe."

He whispered my name and he did it just right. He breathed it out, letting it roll on his tongue and soothed me with it. Cole. How could I not let myself be carried away into the fantasy?

"Cole", I found myself murmuring, my hand reaching out into empty air, fingers clutching at nothing. "Please!" My scream cut through the fog of uncertainty and I knew that if I only could have him hold me, everything would be all right. He reached down to me and cradled me in his arms. And I sank into them, weak, drained and lost. In his arms I found peace—his lips sought mine and I let him find me. I kissed him, I kissed him with everything I had, because maybe, just maybe, it was the real Cole and I was not in Hell, and everything was fine—

The foul taste of dank putridness invaded my mouth, making me gag, spit, and recoil from those arms that had momentarily been my haven. The Source unceremoniously dropped me onto the floor, his laughter like long fingernails raking against my skin. At least he changed back: without Cole's face, I could at least get a hold of myself.

"As I said. Truly pathetic", the Source commented with a smirk. His face was laden with scars, his eyes obsidian black. His skin was the color of white marble and I wondered if that was the face of nightmares.

I kept the tears welling in my eyes inside and forced myself to stand up. I did not survive hell during my three years as a witch to die like a worm, squashed under the Source's shoe. At least, if I was going down, I would go down fighting. His impersonation of Cole had given me some of my strength back—the sight of his beloved face reminded me I had a reason to fight, and damn it I was going to!

However, there was nothing that could be done to dispel the strange dizziness that had grabbed hold of my body. I felt as if I was moving in slow motion, a sea of cotton wrapped around my limbs. My vision was still blurry and my body ached so badly I thought I might pass out from the pain.

"Let me go", I managed to demand, trying to focus on the Source's face but it was back under the shadows. Or maybe my eyes were going blind; it was really hard to tell.

His laughter rang through the room again and it brought shivers to my spine. I collapsed against the wall, dirt streaking my arms and getting into my eyes. "Why should I?" he asked me, truly curious about my answer. I tried to find one, but I couldn't. My brain wasn't working, the lack of air making it impossible to think.

Cold sweat ran down my spine as I realized I probably wouldn't make it out this time. My sisters had no idea where I was and with the Source himself as my captor, I feared the outcome of that fight. I would not endanger them so.

"I would rather keep you down here. You are, I suppose, a lovely creature to look at. Maybe I will let my minions have their fun with you."

The promise of potential rape nauseated me but it was the finality in his tone that brought me to my knees. He knew I was not going anywhere. "However, I have a proposition for you", he continued. Something in the way he said it made me look up, made me try and make out his features inside the darkness of his hood.

"You are a powerful witch", he began, "and your powers are strong. If I kill you, another witch will receive them and I will only be left with another nuisance to deal with. On the other hand, if you chose to join me voluntarily—"

My dry, harsh cackle actually surprised him. He stopped and cocked his head to the right, in a gesture so reminiscent of birds of prey that I actually giggled. Was I going crazy? I couldn't really say.

The revelation that came with his words was surprising: the Source didn't want to kill me. He wanted to turn me! Without even hesitating, I spat out, "You think I would ever join you? Where have you been for the past twenty generations? The Halliwell's do not do evil. We fight it. You're evil," I pointed at him, finger trembling. I then pointed at myself, at some abstract spot on my chest, "I'm not. See? Do I need to spell it out for you?"

Voice high and full of panic, the last words of my diatribe were almost a shout. I had completely forgotten Sykes' recent punishment for his insolence, but my mind was whirling, and honestly, I'd rather die in a hell of fire and brimstone that have to face the Source for another moment.

"True. But no Halliwell has ever bedded a demon before, either", he calmly answered.

I froze. His words cut through my walls, through my defenses and like lightning, brought them down with one strike. He continued, beaming with self-satisfaction. "You have evil inside you, witch, whether you wish to accept it or not. Why do you think the Woogie was able to posses you? And why did Dantalian's spell work better on you that it did on your sisters?"

It didn't! I wanted to scream, it didn't! But right at that moment, something Prue had said came back in a breath, like something said in a dream: 'they didn't just plant evil inside of me, or us for that matter. There had to be something there for them to turn to begin with.'

My mind went numb as suddenly everything became crystal clear to me. I had been attracted to Cole because the evil in me found a soul mate in him. I had been attuned to the succubus because I was evil. I had even been evil in my past life. What other sign could I possibly need to realize the truth? I—I was evil. I am evil.

"Now you see the truth, Phoebe? Just give in. Come to me", he requested, and my name on his lips was slithering, like a snake speaking directly to my heart.

No. No. NO! My mind screamed and the voice was strangely hollow.

Cole warned me against the Source's mind games. He explained to me how he slowly ate through his victims' confidences, destroying their egos, their realities; twisting everything they ever knew to be true.

'I am not evil. I'm a good person, a good witch. I protect the innocents. I've saved the world. I am good!' I insisted, trying to fight the overwhelming sense of defeat that was creeping into my head.

Something surged in me right then, the last vestiges of the Charmed One or maybe the last flame of my own free-will: "No. You'll just have to kill me."

The Source was not disturbed. It's as though he had been expecting my refusal.

He simple turned away from me, his cloak billowing around him like a living thing. The torches flickered right then, as if fearing his proximity. A thing of such darkness can perhaps obliterate light. "Good. Resistance. I will enjoy breaking you, Phoebe."

As he moved a few feet away from me I could breathe a little easier. But then he spoke again and this time, his voice was enough to make bile rise in my throat: "Then, if you will not do it for yourself, do it for the one you love the most."

I smiled sadly as I informed him, "My sisters will protect Cole and Cole will protect them." He turned back to me, his hood suddenly becoming the focus of my attention and his words booming from the shadows within: "I am not talking about the traitor half-breed or your sisters."

That stopped me. It wasn't Cole? Or my sisters, either… who was it then, that could mean more to me that my family? Who was it that he believed would be enough to make me turn my back to everything I had ever held dear?

"What the hell are you talking about?" Anger was easy, anger I could understand. This subtle act of his was making my head hurt. He walked past me and I suddenly found myself following. I wasn't thrilled to realize he was using telekinesis on me and that I was moving under his control.

He remained quiet and kept on walking, taking me deeper and deeper into the Underworld. We walked past hundreds of chambers, each containing horrors worst than the last. Hundreds of demons bowed to him, flicking insults and covert threats at me. I didn't care. I couldn't care: my mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, trying to understand the true meaning of his words.

"Who is it?" I demanded, again and again until the words stopped echoing on the walls around us and still he did not answer. The air grew suffocating and the dim torches failed to illuminate the far corners and I knew that even if I managed to break free from his telekinetic hold, there was no way I would be able to find my way back.

We stopped just short of a chamber, his magical tendrils brushing against my body and revolting me to no end. I hated that he could touch me with no hands and that I could not harm him no matter how hard I tried.

"Who IS IT?" I shouted one last time, but my voice was hoarse and the tears were too many, and it drowned against the powerful magic sliding against me. He turned to me, letting the hood fall back from his face and his hand settled against my stomach.

"Your daughter", he said, and fire erupted from his hand and burned my skin. Except it didn't, but I could now feel the little life growing inside of me, that small cell-cluster that was mine and Cole's and nobody else's multiplying in me.

My hand clutched his, trying to keep it away from me – from my baby – but it was of no use. He was stronger than me and the feel of his scaly skin against my belly, even through my shirt, was sickening.

He laughed and his fingernails cut through the thin layer of clothing and brushed against my skin for real and I screamed, but he did not stop.

"And she is mine, witch."

Those words were the last ones I heard for a very, very long time.


.

To be continued.