Change of Heart
Chapter 5: Acceptance
by Lilian.
lilian413 at yahoo dot com
Author's Notes: I'm placing 'Black as Cole' about a month after 'Enter the Demon'. That would make Phoebe about a month into her pregnancy when this story started. So she'd be nearing three months in this chapter. Keep that in mind, okay?
To my wonderful readers: your beautiful reviews bring me immense joy every time I read them. If it hadn't been for your undying support, this story would have never seen the light of day again. So, to you, my friends. Because this is really your story as much as it is mine.
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It had been two months already. Two months Paige would give anything to forget. Two months of questions, interrogations and intrusions—some friends of Phoebe's, seeing as she had missed some appointment or other, had called the police.
And the police had broken into a silent, recently re-built house.
A house where one of the occupants had been missing for a month and no missing person had been reported. Several walls had been remade, one of the members refused to give his name and papers and the neighbors kept telling strange stories about the house. Not four months ago, a young woman had died right there along with a prominent San Francisco doctor. And now, a member of the same family went missing?
All of this aroused suspicions. And how could they not? 1329 Prescott house had always been strange. There were police reports trailing back as much as twenty years, late night screaming, sudden power outages and blinking lights when there was nobody around... the manor had become a Halloween story for children.
'Eat your dinner, or the witches across the street might come and get you.'
How right they were. And at the same time, so wrong.
Piper and Cole were in no condition to answer the police's questions. That, of course, rendered them as suspects. Paige had to use most of her looks and pub-tricks to get officer Noisy's attention away from the fuming eldest sister. Piper had been this close to blowing him up. Leo had to physically restrain Cole to keep him from hurting a police officer.
Attracting attention to themselves was the last thing they needed right now.
Things were quieter these days, the initial shock already gone, leaving behind only suspicion and disbelief. The police had filed a report and Phoebe's name had been added to the thousands of others that remained as 'Unsolved Cases'.
Because, as far as the police knew, the girl was still alive.
They couldn't tell them they knew she was dead. That the Powers That Be had confirmed her gone and that Cole's blood shot eyes were not because of drugs, but because he cried himself to sleep every night, now could they?
You see, officer, dead angels up in heaven confirmed our sister is dead. A high level demon killed her. You need more proof? Here, see these strange figures in this creepy-looking book? It means the Power of Three is gone so we are no longer powerful witches. More sugar in your tea?
Phoebe's past helped settle the dust. She had a history. She had a record. Child delinquent, juvenile delinquent, and they traced her steps all the way back to New York, a city where they found several pending arrest orders with her name on them.
And they decided the girl had a million reasons to want to disappear.
Fools. They had no idea.
There had been no more calls for a week now. No more 'Ms. Halliwell has been seen' somewhere in the US. No more interviews about whether they believed their family to be cursed or not. No more reporters trying to get an exclusive with the family with the worst luck in all San Francisco.
And Paige was thankful.
Besides, there were other matters that demanded their undivided attention.
Like Leo's whacked out plan, for example. When he first brought up the idea, Paige had almost slapped him. How dare he say those things, when Phoebe's body was still cooling down somewhere?
But Leo had insisted. And after the first half an hour of discussion, the idea didn't seem so bad.
Paige had grown to like Phoebe. Her older sister had received her with open arms and a smile on her face. And they had gone through a lot together... they had switched bodies, for crying out loud! If that didn't bring two people together, Paige could think of nothing that would.
Phoebe was the older sister Paige had always wanted to have. Outgoing, carefree, ready to jump at anything that came their way—Paige really looked up to her. Sure, Piper was the oldest one and hence, the most serious... but Paige was still young, and she needed a friend more than a mentor.
So, when Leo had brought back the news of her demise, it was like she had lost a part of herself. Because with Prue—well, she had never really met her, she had just felt the loss through their blood. But Phoebe, Phoebe she had known and she had cared for, and she had loved...
And it hurt. It hurt more than she remembered.
That's why she had finally agreed with Leo's plan. To avenge her. To make whatever demon killed her, suffer.
Leo wanted to keep on fighting.
A few weeks after— after it had happened, Leo had called them all into the living room and made a proposition so bizarre it had blown them all away. Paige had just assumed that with Phoebe gone, their Charmed duty had gone out the window. The Elders had told them as much, deeming them as unimportant now that the Power of Three was no longer active. But Leo had suggested they go on, fighting in Phoebe's memory.
"Are you out of your fucking mind?"
Cole's voice still retained some of its old quality, despite the low tones anger was forcing him to use. The richness that had made Paige's knees wobble when she first met him. She was certain she had never heard him curse before, but watching him pace back and forth across the living room, she could understand the need to.
"Cole, please, just listen to him."
They were two against two. Piper and Cole refused to even consider the idea. Paige and Leo had discussed it earlier and were trying to convince them now.
"I don't have to listen to anything. I will not fight. Period."
Piper didn't say anything, but her body language was screaming 'no'. Paige understood her reticence, her need to push that life away. It had already taken so much out of their family, and now she and Leo were asking them to waltz right back in.
"Think about all the innocents that still need protection", Paige tried again, knowing they were running out of arguments, and the opposing couple seemed no more convinced than when they had started.
"I'm a demon, Leo. Demons kill people. They don't save them."
Cole leaned against the fireplace, arms crossed against his chest, the very image of stubbornness. As he spoke, his voice laden with sarcasm, his eyes remained half-closed and narrowed, almost as if he was daring them to correct him. Why did he always have this need to remind them he was a demon? If anything, Paige would've thought he would want them to forget it. Strangely, it seemed Cole wanted them to remember…
Not for the first time, Paige wondered why he had stayed. Cole's interest in the Halliwell family was reduced to his affair with Phoebe… as far as she was concerned, Paige had never thought Cole was going to be a permanent addition to their family. Not because she doubted his love for Phoebe, but simple because she knew in her heart that their opposing natures would one day drive them apart. But after Phoebe's death, days had turned into weeks and Cole remained. Every morning he was there, drinking coffee as if he had always done it, and it was a puzzle that sometimes kept Paige awake at night.
What was keeping Cole with them? Some promise to a dead woman? Or did he really care about them? If only she could know for sure…
Her fears against his demonic side had subsided, chased away as Phoebe's sudden death demanded her immediate attention. By the time things had settled down and she was able to look back at the distrust she had felt against Cole, she realized it was no longer there. She had seen Cole shimmer towards her as the earthquake hit, trying to keep her and Piper out of harm's way. Demonic or not, he had saved her life and that meant she owed it to him to at least get to know him better before pushing him away.
Pulling one of her last tricks out of her sleeve, Paige said what they were all thinking: "Phoebe didn't believe that." She said the words and she meant them. And realized, with a start, that she was beginning to believe it as well.
Cole's reaction to Phoebe's name was pained to say the least. His whole body stiffened, his eyes shut close and his whole body seemed to fold in on itself. Her name had become both a prayer and a curse for him. Paige knew it. And she knew the best way to convince him was to make him realize this is what Phoebe would've wanted.
"Phoebe's dead, Paige. That was her reward for saving innocents. Death!"
Leo's hand on Paige's shoulder prevented her from shaking some sense into Cole. The whitelighter shook his head and she had to refrain herself, knowing by now that Leo understood and knew more things that he let anyone into.
"I think that what Paige's trying to say is that this is what Phoebe would've liked us to do."
Leo had seen where Paige was going. He also understood Cole's seemingly mean disposition towards her. Paige reminded him of Phoebe. More so than Piper ever would. The two youngest sisters were very much alike, as the two oldest once were.
That statement, with all the truth it carried, cut through Cole's misery and actually made sense. But the half-demon remained quiet, struggling with his pain. He wasn't sure if he was ready to alleviate others' as well.
"You really want to do this?"
It was the first time Piper had spoken, ever since they had gathered together. Leo noticed with a stab of jealousy that she seemed to hover near Cole, always within touching distance as if he was feeding her energy to stay upright. Or maybe he was feeding off of her, he corrected, watching as Cole leaned towards her as well. It was an unconscious gesture, but it was there. He pushed the jealous thoughts down and replied: "Yes."
Piper rubbed a hand across her forehead, her long hair falling down her back like a chocolate silk curtain. "Paige, you don't know what this means."
Leo could have resented that she addressed Paige instead of him, but he also understood why.
"I do. I really do. Now more than ever, actually."
Leo looked at Paige, really looked at her, and marveled at how very much she reminded him of Penny. She had that same fire, that same spark that pushed her to do more, to be better… and just like Penny had done in her time, she was trying to pick up the pieces left by a death in the family and restart their lives.
"Phoebe died fighting. Shouldn't we honor that sacrifice and continue fighting as well?"
Piper sighed deeply. There was a world of unsaid things in there, but with that out of the way, Piper seemed to be convinced.
"I'm in."
Paige's raised left eyebrow was prominent in the room. Probably a trait she inherited from Sam, since none of the Halliwells could do it. "You are?" Truth to be told, she had expected more of a fight. But she had underestimated Piper's sense of duty: she had carried the mantle for years; it was fairly simple to put it back on.
Leo's smile said 'thank you' in more ways than one. And it was then that Piper realized she had, once again, pushed him away. She really had to stop doing that... Leo was only the messenger. She had developed a nasty habit out of shooting him. She smiled back at him, hesitantly, unsure whether she was ready to be smiling again. Unsure whether she was supposed to be smiling again. As she slowly nodded, she vowed to herself that she would protect them with her life.
Protect all the family she had left.
"Fine, then. I'm in too."
Cole surprised Paige with that. They had given him the perfect way out: all he had to do was say no and they would let him leave, certain he would not return to his old ways. They would not hold a grudge either—what they were asking him to do was fight a war he had no part in.
But he didn't. He ignored the easy escape and instead plunged right back into the fray… Paige looked at him with curious eyes. What was it that kept him going? And why did he accept only when Piper had?
Paige need not ask herself that question. There was only one reason why Cole accepted.
Phoebe.
He had promised her he would watch over her sisters. Over her family. On one of the rare occasions in which her worries seemed to get the best out of her, Phoebe had made him promise he would take care of them. Because she understood Cole was immortal while she was not.
Sure, he had planned to remain as the strange, creepy uncle who sometimes came to visit. An ageless companion, watching over a family that would whisper his name in hushed tones and call him their guardian angel.
Demons were not without a sense of irony.
He had expected to return every year or so, to see how they were doing. It was strange how he, with his almost eternal life span, thought less about the future that Phoebe ever did. But he had expected that task to be delayed several decades, if he had anything to do with it.
He hadn't. Phoebe had been taken away from him, whisked out of his grasp in the dead of the night and killed. Killed. He understood death. He had killed many, back in the old days. Tortured several hundreds and enjoyed it. But he had never experienced this, this consuming, bottomless pit of pain. He didn't understand why it hurt so much. Was it worth loving her, knowing she would die long before he would? And not old and happy in her own bed as he had wished... but tortured and suffering God knows where?
Yes, it was. It was definitely worth it.
It's better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.
Yeah, right. But nowhere in that saying did it explain how to deal with the consequences. How to pick up the pieces and move on.
Maybe this was his way out. Maybe this was how he could finally find redemption and meet her on the other side.
That's why he had accepted.
Because maybe, just maybe, this would earn him an eternity with her.
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She had lost track of time a long time ago. Her watch had stopped running the second she had been shimmered down here, human batteries were not made to handle the heavy amounts of energy running loose through the place.
But she was betting it had been like seven weeks. Give or take. Seven weeks, in which she had been learning, practicing, developing her newly acquired active powers.
Right now, they were back on the training field. Some absent part of her thought that it was probably an honor to have the Source himself training her. She had never pictured the hooded demon to be much of a mentor, but apparently, he was.
Phoebe was much stronger now. Ever since she bonded with the Source, the nausea had disappeared and the continuous feeling of weariness had vanished. She was back to her old self. Almost.
Her belly was beginning to swell. When she found herself alone – which was not very often – she would sit on the bed, in the room she had been given, and rub across her ever-expanding belly. The circular motions soothed her, as if by rubbing at her skin she could shed the tension away.
Prue's little body was growing inside of her, safe and sound with the Source's energy running through her. He had explained to her the side effects of their link, and the realization that if she had denied his request her daughter would have died had chilled Phoebe to the bone.
There was also a particularly interesting side effect as well: the Source could not touch her daughter until she was born. The very blood-link that kept them joined prevented the Source from reaching Prue inside Phoebe's womb. She was thankful for that. She would worry about the premonition she had when the time came.
"Focus, Phax."
She had chosen that name. Upon receiving the Source's blood she had denied her own name, for Phoebe Halliwell was dead. It was time for Phax to come forward. Phax… it was not hard to figure out where the name had come from. She borrowed the title of the demon she hated the most – beside the Source himself, of course – and mixed it with her own. That was how Phax had come to be born. Out of the ashes of a demon and a witch. Neither and none. She wasn't a witch turned into a demon. She wasn't a demon turned from a witch. She was different. She was a lost soul, seeking vengeance for what wrongs had been made upon her. Which, by the way, were too many to count.
A black fireball hit her square in the legs, throwing her off balance and onto the ground. It would hurt for the next few days... until her healing abilities kicked in and took care of it, that is.
"I said, focus."
She rolled once she hit the ground and sprang back up on her feet. Which was getting harder as days went by and her gravity center shifted from her belly button down to her hips and upper legs.
"All right, all right. I hear you."
It was just her luck, working against her again. Not only was she being trained by the Source himself, but also she had to be pregnant during the whole thing!
"Do not be distracted. They will kill you if you hesitate."
She looked at him, knowing that he spoke the truth. How had he survived for so long, if not without extreme caution and care?
"Now, try again."
She breathed deeply as she tried to get her energy to coalesce in her hand.
Since the baby within her was still growing, it would be dangerous for her to try teleportation magic. Broken molecules and all. So, the Source had decided to teach her fireballs, instead.
Not that he had much luck at it, but still.
She closed her eyes and stretched out her hand.
"Open your eyes. What is the use of firing energy balls if you can not see your enemy?"
Anger blossomed within her. She seemed to be particularly short of temper, these past few days… was it her pregnancy or the blood sharing with the Source? Who knew, and truth to be told, who cared. Anger was an easy way to connect with her new powers: it could quickly be turned into something else.
"Cut me some slack, would you? I'm new at this!"
The Source shimmered, reappearing within inches of her, towering over her like a dark shadow of doom. Which he actually was, but that is beside the point.
"I will not have you slipping. My personal assassin must be deadly and accurate. At this point, you are neither."
Phoebe's lips tightened into one thin, taut line, and her eyes flared up... yes, she was supposed to be filling in the shoes of Shax himself. The ruler of the Underworld needed a personal assassin, and since Phoebe had disposed of Shax, who better to replace him?
"We began practicing this today! I've just had a few hours to try and master a technique that takes others years to learn! How in the name of God do you expect me to summon a stupid fireball just like THAT?"
Her last word was accentuated with a loud crash on the other side of the room as a fireball exploded against the furthest wall. Phoebe shrieked at the sound of it, surprised. Only then did she realize the Source hadn't moved. And that the same hand she had stretched out earlier was now pointing at the very same wall that had been hit.
Amazed, she brought her hand back and examined her fingers. Not a burn, not a scratch.
"I sense great power in you, Phax. Do not waste it in lame excuses like that."
Lame? Lame? She had just fired a fireball, for Goddess sake! She, who had never had an active power before, had thrown a fireball! With actual fire!
Ecstatic, her eyes glowing in the dark like embers in a dying fire, she smiled.
"Again."
Phoebe only nodded this time, not daring to cross him again. She focused and stretched her fingers, creating a vortex in between her fingers. Like he had taught her, she slowly let it gather, letting it flow through her, summoning the energy that lay dormant around her...
There was a little spark that went off right above her palm. A cattish grin danced through her lips, as it grew and gained strength.
"Another one."
Slowly, never once looking away from her right hand, she raised her left one. And repeated the process. It was slower this time, both from the concentration the first one demanded and the fact that she was right handed. Her left side had always been sloppier.
But in the end, she did it anyway. The satisfaction was enormous as she slowly handled them, still afraid of getting burnt. Fire was not to be meddled with lightly. She had learnt that much the first few hundred times. Her combusted hair was all the proof she needed.
She had wanted to cut it, anyway.
"Mix them."
She had almost forgotten he was around... it was fairly easy to get lost within the flames. Creating fire out of nothing was an incredible feeling: she could drown in the blaze she had created with her hands.
Eyes shinning with the fireballs in her hands, she brought them together. They sizzled as they made contact, and seemed resistant. As polar opposites of a magnet, refusing to merge. She pushed on, forcing them to mix.
The blast hit her right on the chest.
When the two fireballs came in contact they exploded in a bright flash of light. The smell of burnt skin reached her nostrils and it was only when she looked down that she realized it was her own. Luckily, since she had burnt her clothing a long time ago she had been given some demonic uniform. It was flame resistant.
Her fingers ached and stung—the palms and fingertips burnt. It wasn't fatal, but it would hurt like hell for days. No healing factor could cure this fast enough.
"Never mix right and left. Throw one and then the other. Or this will happen."
She looked up to the Source, who stood on the far side of the room. Now that she thought of it, she had never seen him sitting, or leaning on anything-- didn't he get backaches?
"Couldn't have told me sooner?"
Even from across the room, she heard his chuckle. "What would be the fun, then?"
She made a face at him and stood up. Strangely, none of her injuries were located around her midsection. She blamed it on him. Probably put a protection spell or something around her belly. Good.
Little Prue was safe. Safe from her mistakes.
"Ready for more?"
She knew better than to ask for a time out. Cole hadn't given her one. Neither would the Source. Or any other enemy she would ever face, for that matter. Demons took training as seriously as they did real fighting—probably why they lived so long.
She took a deep breath, and nodded.
And she went on practicing. Learning.
Improving.
She would need it for when the time came.
Tbc...
