Change of Heart
Chapter 7: Birth.
by Lilian
lilian413 at yahoo dot com
Author's Note: So, I guess all of you know what's happening in this chapter, right? Guess again, dear readers. Mine is an evil mind. :p
This is the chapter that suffered the most changes—you'll realize a lot of things have changed, and yet others have remained almost exactly the same. I'm particularly proud of how these next scenes turned out. Let's see if you share the same opinion!
Again, your reviews make me feel so good… they're like hot chocolate in a frosty winter night (if I liked chocolate, that is. Hmm, that doesn't work. Coffee, then. Hot coffee on a frosty winter night), making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. –hugs you all-
ETA: fanfiction-net is the spawn of hell. I've been trying to upload this thing all morning. -kicks it-
.
11:17 pm
Paige was restless. She had gone to bed about an hour ago, she noted with a rueful look at her bedside clock, but she had been unable to fall asleep. An hour spent tossing and turning in her bed should've tired her, she thought, but apparently her body was having none of it.
She had an early day tomorrow, so why was her traitorous brain keeping her awake? It would not do to show up at work with bags under her eyes and a yawn at the tip of her lips, but what more could she do? If memory served right, she had already counted all the sheep in the world. Twice. An old relaxation trick she had learned from a college roommate wasn't working and if she didn't go to sleep in the next fifteen minutes, she was going to seriously consider going to the Book of Shadows and looking some anti-insomnia spell up.
The thought of her heritage resting up in the attic seemed to send her anxiety levels into overdrive. She had the sudden urge to go up to the third floor, despite the late hour and the cold floors she knew awaited her. She stubbornly closed her eyes and turned on her side, willing her mind to shut the hell up and let her sleep already.
It didn't work.
She opened her eyes and the clock winked merrily at her. 11:21.
Wonderful, just wonderful, she thought, pushing the covers back and finding her slippers in the dark. Somehow, it felt fitting to do it in the darkness of the night—shaking her head, she opened the door and moved towards the stairs, wondering if her hectic life was finally catching up with her. It wouldn't surprise her to find out that vanquishing demons and saving the world from impending Apocalypse every other week came with a price: sleep-deprivation seemed the least of her problems at this point.
She had set one foot on the very first step of the attic-stairs when she caught the faint murmur of voices. They were coming from upstairs, she noted, wondering if she should wake Piper or Cole before checking it out. But then Cole's baritone voice reached her ears and a faint smile curled her lips—so she wasn't the only one suffering from insomnia in the house, hmm?
The thought of spending a quite night talking with the half-demon was very appealing, and Paige found herself in the attic before she could even remember how she got there. But inside, she found more than she had expected: Piper was also there, standing by the Book, and so was Leo, caught in a heated argument with Cole.
Her sister was the only one who saw her enter and sent a nod her way. Paige said nothing and instead raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow, silently asking what was going on. Approaching her, Piper whispered an explanation: "Cole woke us about half an hour ago, saying he had felt something was about to go down in the Underworld."
Leo chose that moment to huff in indignation at something Cole said, and Paige couldn't help but smile. He looked so cute when he was frustrated…
"But why are they arguing?"
"He wants to go down there. Says that with such a magical commotion, they won't spot him."
Paige didn't need to know anything else. It was clear that the whitelighter – and both witches, had the man bothered to ask – was against the idea. It was obvious this was a trap, a trick to lure Cole out and away from the protection of the Charmed Ones. That he would be so adamant to return to the Underworld was strange, Paige mused, watching the tension flow across Cole's back like a living thing, ripples of vexation at Leo's apparent stubbornness.
"And you?" Piper asked, brushing some of Paige's hair back. Self-conscious, Paige suddenly wished she had taken the time to run a brush through the rebellious locks: just how did Piper manage to look so fresh and perfect after being rudely awakened in the middle of the night?
Blinking rapidly to vanish the last traces of sleep, Paige shrugged: "Dunno. Couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd go get a glass of milk or something."
Cole's voice rose and fell; Paige could tell he was angry. He made no move to strike Leo, though, and she chided herself for even thinking that. "Heard voices, came to check it out", she finished, brushing her hands across her naked arms. It was a chilly night and she was wearing little to protect herself from the weather. As a matter of fact, she was wearing very little period, she realized with a start, and just as she considered the thought of running back down to grab a robe, Cole turned and saw her.
A blush blossomed across her cheeks, painting them a lovely shade of pink and Paige could just die. And why was she so embarrassed? It was just Cole…
Seemingly uninterested in her night attire, Cole eyes skipped her as if she wasn't even there and turned to Piper: "Tell him to lift the binding."
Cole's voice came petulant and almost—childish, Paige thought, her pride injured at his apparent lack of reaction to her choice of jammies. But she hadn't expected to find herself in the middle of a family brawl, so her flimsy top and low riding string pants were the only things covering her from the cold night air.
By her side, Piper was shaking her head. "Not until you promise you won't go."
It was a circular argument, Paige knew, but it was the truth. If Leo lifted the binding spell that kept Cole grounded to the Manor – aaah, so that was the faint buzz in the back of her head, then – the half-demon would not lose time to shimmer into the Underworld and right into the Source's trap. Now, if they could just make him see that…
Cole huffed, throwing his hands in the air. "You are impossible!"
Why was he so strung out? What was it that made it so imperative for him to shimmer into the Underworld? Leo chose that moment to renew his side of the conversation and soon after, the two men were again arguing, ignoring the two women standing before them.
Paige shook her head. "Good to know I'm not the only one who gets the wibbies in the middle of the night."
Piper turned to look at her, something akin to surprise in her eyes. "Come again?"
Paige brushed her fingers through her long hair, wondering if it was time to cut it yet and then deciding against it. She liked the way it felt, long and draped across her back. Perhaps dyeing it… copper was the new black this year, wasn't it?
"Paige", Piper tried again, snapping her fingers in front of her face, "you there?"
The younger woman smiled, shaking her head again. Boy, she was a total space-case these days, wasn't she? "I mean I haven't been able to sleep at all tonight. Felt like I needed to be awake, you know?"
The words fell through her lips before she had the time to consider them, and by then she realized she truly meant them. She needed to be awake, indeed—but for what?
Her spider sense began to tingle, that tickle to the back of her head that came with the Halliwell name. Something was going on, she decided, watching the little crease between Piper's eyebrows deepen. "Funny you would say that", began Piper, letting her arms cross across her chest, "I said the same thing to Leo when we went to bed."
Something clicked in Paige's head. "But—you said you couldn't sleep. You went to bed anyway?"
This time, the blush was in Piper's cheeks and the realization made it jump to Paige's face as well. "Oh", she began, trying to recover her slip-up, "Sorry. Didn't mean to pry."
Piper waved a hand about, the blush making her look younger and more innocent. It was a good look on her; Paige mused, and wondered if that was what had drawn Leo to her. And then it didn't seem to matter, because the certainty that something important was going on hit her out of the blue.
They looked at each other and as one, turned to the Book. Opening it and leafing through the pages seemed to make enough of a fuss to draw Cole and Leo out of their argument, and both men turned to look at them with strange eyes.
"Cole's right, Leo", said Piper, and Paige saw the way triumph twinkled in Cole's pupils, "There is something going on tonight."
As Paige explained it to them, the words seemed sillier and sillier: they were basing their decision on the fact that neither sister had been able to sleep tonight? Ooooh, the Halliwells have insomnia: stop the presses, mocked a voice inside her head, sounding suspiciously like her own. But then something changed in Leo's eyes, something hardened and shifted, and she knew they were on to something.
Leo seemed to read her mind, and he came to stand beside her: "Don't dismiss these feelings, Paige. Your dreams – or the lack of them – usually warn you when a great magical event is about to take place."
Paige nodded, confidence returning as Leo's older, more experienced ways supported her hunch. Leo moved close to Piper now, and Paige looked up to find Cole standing much closer than he had been just moments before. She yelped low in her throat, and a somewhat predatory smile curled his lips. He looked at her for a while, saying nothing, just letting those big, blue eyes rake all over her goose bump-ed skin. It wasn't sexual, she noted – and was surprised to feel a small sting of disappointment ran through her – but mostly, well, fatherly.
"Here", he ended up saying as he shimmied out of his jacket and placed it over her slender shoulders. It was still warm as it landed upon her exposed skin, and she fought the urge to burrow deep into it—was she forgiving his earlier dismissal so easily? Apparently she was, because she found herself smiling at him openly, closing the jacket across her chest and marveling at how much bigger he was.
It seemed Piper and Leo had been talking, because when she and Cole turned to look at them, there was a look of fierce determination in their eyes.
"We are going down there", was all they said, and Paige just nodded. Who was she to argue? It felt right, and Leo had told her to trust her instincts. And right now, her instincts were telling her they were needed in the Underworld—something was going to happen tonight and they'd better be prepared.
She was about to ask if they could change their clothes first – can't go around saving the world in your pajamas, right? – when the twinkle of bells in the air alerted them to someone orbing in. As one, they turned to the center of the attic where the sparkling lights were coalescing into a human form, and when they parted, Penny Halliwell was left behind.
"No, you are not", she said, and they all knew what she meant.
Cole beat them and spoke up first, his demon reflexes used to being given a new spin on any situation: "And how are you going to stop us?"
He was strangely confrontational, Paige observed, and even his stance seemed defiant, almost as if daring the newcomer to face him. She reached out to him and he took a long time to turn his eyes to her, and when he did, Paige saw things in there she didn't like.
There was anger in those iridescent depths; anger that swam and oozed like a living thing and Paige took a small step back, frightened at the strength of Cole's emotions. He closed his eyes and shook his head, and when he opened them again, they were as she remembered them: calm and cool, and the bluest she had ever seen on a human face.
Piper spoke then, and whatever Cole had been about to say was lost. Paige knew what he had wanted to tell her, though: could see it written all across his face. I'm sorry if I scared you.
"Grams? What are you doing there?"
As Piper addressed their grandmother, Paige moved back towards Cole, not quite touching him. He made no move to touch her either, but somehow, standing that close together, they both knew it was all right.
"I came here to warn you, my darlings. You cannot go into the Underworld."
"We know it's a trap, Penny", Leo answered, but the older Halliwell shook her head.
"As a matter of fact, my dear boy, it is not a trap."
Silence befell the room, that kind of silence that has a thousand meanings and none at all. Penny continued, and they could all see how great an effort it took for her to speak: "The Source is not responsible for what is about to happen. He could not stop it even if he wanted to."
Her ageless, blue-lit face contorted in pain and Paige suddenly wished Penny was corporeal just so she could hug her, chase that look away from her grandmother's eyes. But Paige couldn't, and Penny wasn't, so instead, she asked: "What will happen?"
Penelope Halliwell turned old, sad eyes towards her younger granddaughter and clasped her hands in front of her. It was almost as if she was restraining herself from reaching out to them, and that was the first sign Paige saw that something was about to go terribly, horribly wrong. "A great power will come into this world… it is the reason you were unable to fall asleep tonight. That magic calls to yours and it will keep you awake until it comes to pass."
Piper spoke up, pretty face confused: "But all the more reason to go! We have to keep the Source from getting it!"
Grams shook her head slowly. "There are more pressing matters for you to worry about, Piper-dear."
Paige could tell Piper was completely lost, and so was she. As a matter of fact, all of them were, judging by the baffled looks in all their eyes. Wasn't that what they did? Prevent the Source from acquiring too much power; fight the good fight and all that? Why wasn't Penny letting them through, then? And what in the world could be more important than them stopping the Source from getting his hands on such an immense fountain of power?
Practically repeating her thoughts words for word, Piper asked: "What is more important than stopping the Source?" There was old anger in her words, a ghost of bitterness that had taken months to dispel and just a few seconds to return. The Source had destroyed their family, killing two of their sisters: it was surprisingly easy to hate him.
It was a long time before Penny answered. And when she did, her very voice sounded exhausted, as if she had been struggling with the truth for a long, long time.
"Phoebe."
All eyes snapped to attention, boring holes into Penny's ghostly form. The woman did not look back and instead turned around, surveying the contents of the attic she had once called her own. Before any of them could say anything, she carried on, every word tinged with sadness: "More exactly, Phoebe's soul."
Paige felt rather than saw Cole tense. All of sudden, his entire body turned taut and stiff, hands fisted and trembling with barely contained emotion. Something like that was happening to her heart, she noted dispassionately, feeling it harden and freeze in her chest. Because it couldn't be. It couldn't be.
As if uncaring of the effect her revelations were having on them, Grams continued, her eyes trying to find theirs: "When the Source took her, all those months ago, the Elders prepared to receive her soul. Upon death, all souls are released into the ether and carried to their final destinations: I don't think I need to tell you what Phoebe's was."
For a moment there, the world swayed around Paige, as if her eyes lost their focus and she feared her knees would give out from under her. The moment passed but the unrelenting nausea remained, escalating as Grams kept on talking: "But there was a problem. Phoebe's soul was never released."
They had all known it was coming. Deep in their hearts, they had already known the truth—that did not prepare them to receive confirmation of the news, however, and they all felt the blow fall. A soft, pained gasp echoed in the room, and it took a while for Paige to realize it had been her own. She felt strangely disconnected, as if she wasn't really standing there…
"It is not the first time the Source keeps his victims' souls", Penny continued, unaware of the effect her words were having on Cole. Did she even know the truth behind the events that led to the Day that Never Was? Did she know that it was the promise of Cole's father's soul that had driven him to insanity? Phoebe had told Paige everything, trusting her to deal with the news as best she could. Now, the realization that her sister was going through that very same thing was enough to chase away the pain and replace it with anger.
"The Elders were more concerned with her powers being safe from evil than Phoebe's fate. When time went by and her powers remained dormant, they decided it would be best if you did not know."
Anger was good—it filled that empty void inside her chest, gave her something to hold on to lest she float away. A few steps to her right, Piper stood, and there was such horror dancing in her eyes that it was like the proverbial straw on the camel's back: something inside Paige snapped, something that was still innocent and pure and trusting. Whatever it was, it shattered into a million tiny pieces and this time, she stumbled forward and only Cole's instinctive response to catch her prevented her from collapsing to the floor.
As his arms encircled her, Paige felt a fine tremor running up and down his body—the question came riding the cacophony of thoughts inside her head, glowing brightly in the darkness that was her mind.
How was Cole dealing with all this? How was he coping with this horrible, horrible truth?
She tried to look at him but his face was turned away from her, almost as if he was afraid she would gaze into those eyes and flinch again.
Penelope made a move to step off the magical candle circle, but something must've shown in their faces because she stopped just short of the edge. Before any of them could speak, though, Paige felt the tremor of Cole's body turn into a full shiver and suddenly the small hairs on her arms were standing on end and something tickled at her senses. Power, was all she had time to think, before the wall in front of them exploded in blue fire as Cole's electric bolt slammed into it head on. She shrieked and covered her face as splinters and debris flew about, but otherwise made no move to protect herself.
As the dust cleared and the crisp, clear San Francisco air gushed past them, Paige's eyes were drawn to Cole's right hand, where another bolt was beginning to grow. The eerie blue light painted dancing shadows across his face, and for a moment there, Paige thought she saw a tear. It was gone in a heartbeat, and she wondered if she hadn't imagined it all, but then the electric bolt got too close to her skin and she was forced back.
The loss of contact with his body seemed to steady her, as if he had somehow been leeching her energy off of her. In contrast, it seemed to weaken him, and the bolt in his hand didn't glow as bright. But it still grew, already the size of a basketball and getting bigger as the moments went by.
Paige wanted to say something, but what could she say that Cole wasn't already thinking? What words could she possible utter that would make sense to him right now?
Penny opened her mouth to say something, but Paige silenced her with a wave of her hand. The three women watched Cole's back, watched tension roll off of him in waves as his hostility mounted, crested and washed down again, and all along the firebolt grew bigger, brighter, until the entire attic was alight with its preternatural glow.
A faint scent of musk tugged at Paige's senses and she clutched Cole's jacket tighter to her body. And then the memory hit her, of a day long ago when Phoebe had worn this same jacket after a particularly nasty battle with a slime demon—Cole had slid it over her shoulders with practiced ease, and the way she had looked up to him had been the very definition of love.
And now she, Paige, was wearing it… wasn't it a desecration of Phoebe's memory? Wasn't it like betraying her, especially after having learned such abominable news? A shudder ran up and down her lithe body and she shed the jacket as if it burned her. It fell to the floor with a low 'thump', but it was enough to draw Cole's attention to her.
His wild, desperate eyes locked with hers and this time, her tears fell. She cried for both of them, for Phoebe, for everything they had tried to put back together to have it all destroyed again.
It felt strange that there was no earthquake this time; Paige thought absently, the tears streaming down her cheeks. She was cold, the chill of the night wind biting at her skin, but she knew it was not because she had taken Cole's jacket off. It was a cold that came from within her, from dark and silent places deep within her own soul.
Cole looked at her for a long time, and the silence in the attic was heavy with angst. His', hers, Piper's, Leo's… they fed off each other like hungry things, and it mounted until Paige thought she might drown from it.
He closed his eyes and the bolt glittered like a burning fire at the tip of his fingers, and Paige held her breath. In the end, Cole fired into the night sky with a roar of rage, falling to his knees as it flew into the air, a ball of light amidst the darkness, and exploded above the bay, casting fireworks into the sea.
Paige didn't know what it was that set the alarms off in her head. Maybe it was the way Cole turned to look at them, eyes sad and devoid of any warmth whatsoever. Maybe it was how the air around him weaved about like a desert mirage, the first signals that he was about to teleport away. Whatever the case, she knew what he was about to do and also knew she was not going to be able to stop him in time.
She didn't need to.
Faster than Paige could see, Piper had crossed the distance between her and Cole and was holding on to him, stopping him in mid-shimmer. Cole tried to pry her off his arm but she held on fast, face hidden against his shoulder, successfully preventing him from going anywhere.
"Piper", he began, and if Paige's heart hadn't already broken, it would have upon hearing his voice crack with that single word, "Release me."
Piper didn't let go. On the contrary, she seemed to burrow deeper against him, almost as if trying to come out the other side. Paige cast a weary glance to Leo, expecting to see jealousy once again riding his face, but instead she found tears in his eyes. They looked at each other, only half-listening to the hurried whispers between Cole and Piper as the half-demon tried to convince her to allow him passage, and as one the two whitelighters turned to look at the couple. They seemed to be waiting for something, Paige thought, but for the life of her she could not say what.
Piper's hair seemed to blend with Cole's dark clothes, and the turtleneck he wore made him look almost—gaunt. The events of the past few minutes seemed to have sucked the life out of him, and Paige couldn't help but wonder just what the rest of them looked like.
Cole said something then, so low that she only caught a few words of it, but it seemed to finally draw Piper out of her stupor. She rose from Cole's side, eyes wide and shinning, and there were tear trails on her cheeks as she yelled: "You think I don't know that?"
Her fingers were digging into his arms, Paige noticed, and it must have hurt. But there was nothing on Cole's face to show any pain—as a matter of fact, there was nothing there at all. Just emptiness, a sudden lack of emotion that scared her even more than his anger had. Because if there was nothing left for him to feel, then how could they recover from this?
"You think I don't want to go too? She's my sister, Cole, my family," Piper was saying, her voice rising and quivering as more tears came forth, "But I am not letting you commit suicide over this!"
Her words struck Paige, and that's when she realized why Cole's empty face had scared her so: he was going to let the Source kill him, was going to bargain with him to release Phoebe's soul. Because that's what all of this was about, right? His betrayal to the demon overlord, his treason to the Brotherhood of the Thorn. Paige had been there when the tattoo had burned out, she had looked after him as the fever struck and left him helpless and lost in its wake.
He was going to trade himself for Phoebe, she realized, and attempt to give them their life back.
Penelope spoke then and Paige jumped in surprise. She had forgotten her grandmother was there…
"You cannot go, Cole." The older Halliwell looked tired, spent—did ghosts suffer from fatigue? Such a vacuous question to ask, but it was all Paige could think about as she looked at her grandmother.
Cole turned wild eyes towards Penny, and even Piper trembled under the power behind that gaze. For a moment there, his features seemed to blur with that of Belthazor, his skin glowing red before he was able to control the change and stop the demon from coming forth.
"Watch me", was all he ended up saying, but there was a clear threat in those simple two words. There was a promise of worlds of pain behind them, because somehow, Penelope was also responsible for all of this. Piper tugged at his arm hard, forcing him to break eye contact with her grandmother and instead direct those burning pools of anger towards her. Paige thought her older sister would falter under the glower, but she didn't. Instead, she met his angry stare head on.
So many things seemed to go through between the two it was impossible to keep track. And although not a single word was spoken, Paige could almost follow the conversation behind the silence: listen to her, please, Piper was saying, brushing Cole's arm with her hand in a gesture meant to soothe wild beasts.
Amazingly, Cole seemed to calm down. His rage lessened somewhat, and he took several gulps of air before he was able to face Penelope again. That seemed to prompt her to continue, and she spoke in low tones, almost as if afraid any loud noise would send him spiraling back into madness.
"You can't go there. Not now, at least."
Paige and Leo walked towards Piper and Cole, drawing strength from their numbers.
"There's a great disturbance coming. A commotion of magical forces has been gathering for some months now. It's going to go off at midnight, tonight—and if it does while you're still down there you will trapped with no way out."
The four of them looked at her for the space of a few heartbeats, for those moments not seeing the danger she had spoken of. And then, one by one, the realization of what it truly meant to be trapped in the Underworld, held in the bowels of the Earth without a way out, sunk in and made ice-cold fear crawl along their spines.
Paige spoke because no one else was saying anything and the silence was becoming unbearable. She spoke because she needed to, lest she let that bitter lump lodged on the back of her throat choke her. "Fine. The moment it blows off, we're going down there."
Penny just nodded. Keeping Leo's arms around her, Piper picked up where Paige had left off: "And you are going to answer some questions in the meantime, Grams."
.
11:08 pm
She hadn't expected it to happen so soon.
She was only eight and a half months along. There were still two more weeks to go according to her calculations. Fourteen days, time that she desperately needed, desperately wanted—still so many things she needed to sort out—but Prue was coming.
And Phoebe felt it with every fiber of her being.
Even after the Source had bound her premonitions, she still retained some control over them. She didn't get flashes anymore, but she could still feel when certain things were going to happen. Not that she needed to be a Seer to realize what was going on right now, but still. She was going into labor. And she still had no clue, as to how to protect her little baby once she was out into the world.
She gasped loudly and clung onto the wall, trying to support herself up.
Goddess, it hurt!
Sweat ran down her forehead as contractions rippled through her body and immersed her in a world of pain.
Not now, not yet...
But, unyielding, little Prue kept pushing, impatient, restless—she was coming out, whether her mother was ready or not.
Phoebe thanked whatever deity was watching down on her, that she had remained in her quarters today. Usually, demons hung out up on the Surface, disguised under mortal masks and mortal money. But she knew the Source did not trust her enough to let her roam free in the world of the living. Not yet, anyway.
So she had stay down under, living in the shadows, missing the caress of the sun and the soft spring breezes... it was probably summer in San Francisco, though.
She ground her teeth together, keeping the scream inside her throat. She needed to be quiet—one cry out of her lips and the Source would be onto her and then all hope would be lost.
Prue, please!
The baby inside of her ignored her pleas, having made up her mind about coming out. A particularly painful contraction hit her and she slumped forward, doubling over, incapable of holding herself up. Goddess, the baby inside of her was a quarter demon, and she was showing it to the world!
Stumbling, she made her way to the bed and lay down on it, breathing heavily. Her eyes glazed over and lost, fixed on the ceiling above her, she never saw the sparkles of magic that sealed the room from outside intruders, effectively locking her into a protective safe cocoon.
Phoebe knew she could call someone—anyone, and they would come. There were healers in the Underworld, experts and midwives that could help her deliver Prue into the world. But how could she call for anyone when they would take her baby from her the moment she was born? How could she call for help when they would kill the last shred of hope in her heart?
She was going to have to handle this alone.
The room tilted and red spots danced in her vision as a sizzling pain ran from her belly and into her limbs. Prue was coming so fast!
She sat on the bed, trying to keep her upper chest up—what was she supposed to do? She wasn't ready for this! There were supposed to be doctors and nurses, and her mother, telling her what to do. Telling her to breathe deeply and evenly, to do what she had practiced in whatshisname's class—
Damn it!
Her hands tightened into fists, grabbing handfuls of sheets into them. Luckily, she had just changed into her nightgown and her legs fell open on their own accord. Maybe her mind wasn't ready for this, but females had been giving birth for thousands of years, before medicine and painkillers came along. Phoebe's soul was old and had done this a million times before. Now, it was getting ready to do it one more time.
She closed her eyes, trying to block everything out, to stop the tears from coming and clouding her vision even more. It was useless. The tears came and she cried. She cried for her baby daughter, who would come to the world in Hell and would surely be corrupted the second she opened her eyes. She cried for herself, because what was supposed to be the happiest day of her life was turning out to be a disaster.
Mommy…
She cried for her mother, who would never see her granddaughter. She cried because she needed her and she wasn't there. She cried because she needed support and there was no one around to give it to her. Her sobs echoed around the chamber, resounding on the walls and coming back at her, mocking her, laughing at her—
'You were always such a screw-up, Phoebe'
Damn it! Where were they when she needed them? Where were they now, when she was going to bleed to death on her own bed and her daughter would be taken and turned by Evil? Probably smooching some more, making out in her old bedroom, violating the sanctity of what she had always called hers'. Goddess, how she hated them! Hated them with a passion so big and a fire so high it threatened to consume her, burn from the inside out.
She bit her lip to avoid screaming. The contractions were coming closer now... and she knew that meant the time was coming.
"I hate you!"
Her voice shook with agony and as she tasted her own blood, rich and sweet and polluted, she felt more tears run down her cheeks. She refused to say his name. To say it would mean she acknowledged his existence, that she accepted the fact he had gotten her pregnant and then fucked her older sister. To say it would bring back memories she would rather forget, because they represented everything she hated, everything she despised, and loads and loads of pain that just waited to pounce on her.
A lie. It had all been a lie.
She cried softly, the sound keen and sharp, as she felt wetness seeping between her legs. Her water must have broken. She dared not look down. She did not want to see the blood pouring off her thighs and staining the black sheets with its red tint.
Gods, she needed to push! Wanted it all to be over—and at the same time, needed it to stretch on forever. Because if Prue was born, then it was all over. And her soul be damned, she was not letting her daughter fall into the Source's hands, even if it killed her.
She was breathing rapidly, her breath coming in heavy pants and her whole body was taut and vibrating, preparing for the moment of birth. She didn't know what to do and cried once again, because maybe she wasn't going to make it. If she died now, so would her little baby. Her little baby, who was now ripping her insides out, trying to come into a world that awaited her impatiently.
Now.
She never knew if the voice in her head was real. Never knew who had spoken so softly in the back of her mind she had almost missed it. And she never asked really, because she also knew it was time.
Taking a deep breath, she gathered her energy and pushed. Things seemed to slow down and everything turned fuzzy, and she felt detached and incorporeal, and just—not there. It seemed it was someone else who was giving birth. Strength that was not her own empowered her, spreading all over her tired body and giving it the last ounce of energy it needed.
There was no more pain, and everything was just so slow… seconds seemed to roll by, lazy and indolent, passing her by almost as an afterthought.
It suddenly all came back in a rush, as if making up for the lost time. And she cried out, screaming, as Prudence Halliwell-Turner came into the world.
.
12:00 am
"Did you feel that?"
Still up in the attic, just by the strike of midnight, Cole's head snapped up as a distant cry pierced his ears.
"What?" He wasn't sure who spoke—their voices seemed distant and far away, all his senses zeroing in towards the sound he had heard. As the old pendulum clock downstairs began its slow count up to the twelve hour, Cole heard it again.
"That."
Paige squinted her eyes and she tried to listen. Cole's demonic hearing was far more developed than theirs was, but she tried her best to make out what had caused him to stop and cock his head to the side. "I don't hear anything."
Leo and Piper nodded slowly, neither of them hearing anything either.
"It was like—a baby crying."
Cole walked a few steps, but the sound was coming from nowhere in particular—except from within his own mind.
"You sure?"
And as quickly as it had come, it stopped. Silence befell the attic and Cole was left wondering if he had really heard anything at all. "Not really." He tried to concentrate, expanding his senses, trying to find the source of the wailing he had heard... but it was as if it had never been there in the first place. There were no traces of magic in the air, except for the sisters' aura that seemed to ooze around the manor twenty-four/seven.
Piper and Paige fell back into a tense conversation, coming up with ideas to take down the Source. There was a plan forming, a plan designed to release Phoebe's soul from the Source. Penny's revelation had hit them all hard, but the certainty that they needed to vanquish the demon leader as soon as possible was unequivocal. Trying to concentrate on what they were saying was surprisingly hard—his mind kept running away from him, re-playing the baby's cries he had heard.
Something told him it would be soon before he heard them again.
.
12:07 am
Phoebe hadn't realized her eyes were closed until she had to force herself to open them. Slowly, hesitantly, she let her eyelids rise, afraid of what she may see.
The pain was lessening, changing from sizzling agony into a dull ache of over stressed muscles. She felt positively exhausted.
Only one look between her legs, and her fatigue disappeared as if by magic.
Prue.
She was small, she was so small... cutting the umbilical chord, her trembling hands picked her up and tenderly held the baby close. Strangely, the baby was quiet. No sound came from her, but her eyes were open and stared up her mother's face questioningly, curious and sleepy at the same time.
She knew this was not normal behavior for a newborn, but she couldn't care less.
Her little baby was here. Prue was here. She cooed at her, softly rubbing their noses together. Prue answered with a giggle, so pure, so innocent it brought tears to Phoebe's eyes. Her finger gently traced the curve of her perfect cheeks and the baby seemed to lean into her touch. She was so beautiful—she was the most beautiful thing Phoebe had ever seen.
She was perfect.
Her tiny hands, curled into even tinier fists, seemed to lurch around, in sudden moves that spoke of undeveloped motor skills. But her eyes—her eyes were the purest of blues Phoebe had ever seen. Cobalt blue came to mind when she tried to find a proper word to describe them. There was a soft mop of newborn hair on her tiny head. It was brown, dark brown... but she had read somewhere all babies were born with dark hair.
"Hi there, little one."
Prue gurgled at her words and giggled again. Phoebe felt her heart melting and happiness like she had never known before fill her heart. "Prue. That's your name, precious. Prue." The baby blinked at her, her pupils never once looking away. It was as if she was memorizing Phoebe's features...
Feeling as her tissue reconstituted itself, the healing abilities kicking in, Phoebe moved around in the bed, wincing as the sticky sheets clung to her skin. Sticky sheets, stained with her blood. With her life.
Never once putting Prue down, she slowly stood up, her legs aching and wobbling under her. But she needed to move. She needed to clean Prue up.
Little Prue looked around the room, her inquiring gaze taking everything in. It was almost as if she could actually understand what she was seeing.
Phoebe held her close, feeling her warmth, which suddenly reminded her of him. But whereas Cole's memory brought pain to her heart, Prue's presence did nothing but calm her frayed mind. Strange, how two people so alike could have such opposite effects on her psyche.
She forced herself to move faster. They were coming, she knew it. If during her pregnancy, Prue's power came off of Phoebe's body like an expensive perfume, now it had spiked like a wave crashing upon shore. Picking up one of the pillows, she took off the pillowcase and carried it with her. Still wobbly, she approached a small fountain that ran on the corner of the chamber. She had drunk from it before—it was clean and just what she needed to clean her daughter with.
Slowly, with as much care as if she was cleaning the most precious thing in the world, she cleaned her. The waters ran red as Prue's skin arose from the blood and placenta that still covered her. All along, the baby gurgled, her first contact with water pleasant and welcome.
All along, Phoebe cried.
When the pillowcase was stained beyond recognition with a sickly pink hue, and Prue was clean and done, Phoebe sank back against the wall, taking her baby with her. She rocked Prue back and forth, singing an old lullaby she remembered from when she was little, and Grams used to tuck her in. Before her life took a downturn and everything turned into a mess.
Goddess, she was so tired... so, so tired. Her eyes opened and closed, over and over again as she fought sleep away. She could not sleep. She could not rest. Not until she was sure Prue was safe. But how? How could she protect her little daughter, in a place so evil, so dark, even breathing was difficult?
She held her against her heart and by instinct born of a thousand lives prior, little Prue latched onto her breast and began feeding greedily. Seeing her there, cradled against her breast, drinking from her own milk, as if she was not in Hell but in her own home, broke Phoebe's heart. Because the only thing this baby would ever know, would be darkness. Betrayal and pain and torture, all designed to shape her into the perfect assassin the Source wanted her to be.
Somehow, Prue's breastfeeding seemed to calm Phoebe down, almost as if little Prue drank not only her milk but also her fear. So when the word slipped through Phoebe's chapped lips, she wasn't even surprised: "Mommy."
It was a silent whisper, a name she hadn't called in a long time. And as if with that word she had summoned inspiration, the certainty of what had to be done settled upon her with the weight of a thousand worlds.
She knew what she had to do. Knew that she would die first than let her Prue be corrupted by Evil. She knew her baby daughter would not suffer under the hand of the Source, or any other demon that craved her power.
She wouldn't. Not if she had anything to do with it.
There was only one thing she could do to keep Prue safe. To keep her pure. To keep her innocent.
Kill her.
A desperate sob went past the lump in her throat as she cried again, depleted of any energy whatsoever. Goddess, if only she could still do spells—teleport little Prue out of the Underworld, away from the Source's grasp… alas, the demonic Lord had been quite clever and had removed her ability to cast spells and charms soon into their partnership. That, and the blood-blond they now shared prevented her from accessing her powers, the last safety measure the Source had taken to ensure her utter and complete lack of resistance.
That meant the only thing she could do to protect Prue was to kill her. To spare her a life of agony, she would kill her newborn child. To save Prue's soul, Phoebe would take Prue's life.
Oblivious to her mother's troubled thoughts; little Prue kept on suckling, hungry.
Phoebe caressed her cheek, taking in the feel of her soft, baby skin and her wide, open blue eyes, and her perfect little nose—life. Life she had created, life that she had brought into the world. Life she would now have to terminate.
Prue seemed to stare into her mother's eyes, oblivious of the struggle inside. Complete trust in her, and Phoebe felt sickened—her stomach turned at the thought of what she was about to do. She closed her eyes, breaking the link, and harshly brought her head back against the wall, biting her lip as pain irradiated from her skull and downwards.
Good, concentrate on the pain.
How she wished to follow Prue, to follow her into the afterlife—but she knew better than to try. Knew better than to try and take her life, because her life was no longer her own. She belonged to the Source, mind, body and soul.
And as long as he lived, she would. The Source was immortal—and now, so was she. To face immortality with these kinds of memories was torture. And she knew it. But she also knew that if she allowed him to take Prue, she could not live with herself anyway.
So it was the lesser of two evils: sacrifice her daughter so she would be safe was better than to watch her become corrupted and used by forces so evil, they lurked in the nightmares of humans and demons alike.
"Prue."
The little baby, unaware of the tears in her mother's eyes and the breaking of her heart, looked up at her and smiled widely. And Phoebe realized she couldn't—she just couldn't do it.
You will let him take her, then?
Anguish made her reach up inside her soul, looking for an answer that would never come. Because there was no right or wrong in a situation like this... she could only do what she needed to do. As she turned back inside and cried out for help, the Source's hold onto her premonitions faltered for just a moment and she was allowed one last vision.
... tall, dark and beautiful, a deadly princess of Death caused mayhem in the mortal's world, becoming the most powerful assassin demons and humans had ever known. Her name was Prue, and she had Cole's eyes and Phoebe's face and she laughed and laughed as she killed an innocent, twisting his neck in an odd angle...
She came back to her own body gasping for breath, craving for air, desperate for help. Help that would never come, because this was her own decision to make. The vision had been so vivid Phoebe could still feel the smile that had curled her lips at the sight of Prue killing her first innocent. She had been there as well, mother and daughter at the Source's beck and call. It was that future, the possibility of it ever coming true that froze her heart into solid steel and made her resolve.
It would not happen. It wouldn't, because she was about to commit murder to stop it.
With the tears coming so fast and so hard they clouded her vision and made it hard to breathe, she rose.
You will not get her.
She had made herself that promise. She had vowed her daughter would not become evil. She had sworn on everything she held dear that her daughter would never experience the hell she was in. And she had no other way to go.
There was no other way to go.
She softly put Prue down, nuzzling her nose one last time. She memorized her features, knowing, needing to know what her face looked like. What the face that would haunt her to her last breath looked like. And little Prue raised her small hand, mimicking her moves, tracing Phoebe's own cheek with her small, delicate fingers.
Phoebe kissed her forehead and whispered one last word.
"Goodbye."
She rose and turned away. Prue remained silent, waiting on the ground in the bundle of sheets. Phoebe just wished the baby would cry, at least one time, to hear her voice, to remind her she was alive—to stop her!
But Prue did not utter a sound. It was most obvious this baby was not human. And neither was her mother.
Closing her eyes, Phoebe stretched out her right hand and summoned a fireball.
It was hard to fight her own conscience, which rebelled against what she was about to do. But she pressed on, unwilling to listen to the screams inside her head, to the shattered pieces of her heart.
As the chamber lit up with the small fireball that sizzled in her hand, she opened her eyes, and looked at Prue. The baby just looked back, and almost as if in response to her thoughts, gave her one big, brilliant smile. Phoebe's hand fell a few inches as her resolve faltered, but then her premonition sprung forth and her fingers clutched the fireball tighter. She should feel it burning her skin now, eating away her flesh—there was nothing.
"I'm sorry."
Her words echoed around the stonewalls, repeating themselves so many times they lost their meaning. Prue closed her eyes and Phoebe thanked her for that, because she knew she could never be able to fire with her daughter looking straight at her.
Phoebe knew she would never find forgiveness: she would kill her first innocent today. Her own daughter would christen her as Phax. There would be no need for a blood sacrifice to baptize her, because what she was about to do now qualified as the greatest sacrifice of all.
She held her breath and bit her lip, tasting her blood...
She fired.
TBC...
.
I'm evil, aren't I?
