Change of Heart

Interlude I

by Lilian

lilian413 at yahoo dot com

Author's Notes: As I write CoH, there are several scenes that sometimes don't make the cut. Scenes I write, scenes I love, but they just don't fit the mood/feel of the chapter I'm writing. So they end up being cut off, relegated to the backburner of files I call 'CoH snippets'. But then, I realized I liked them too much to let them be buried like that, but what was I to do? I couldn't stick them in any chapter – considering they had been removed in the first place – so I considered posting them as individual things… I wasn't sure if I was going to post these interludes at all, but then Maricole wrote a review asking for double updates, and I said 'what the hell'. So here it is. The first of the CoH interludes. Dunno how many there will be, or when will they show up: but they exist, so some updates from now own might be doubles!


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"Leo, now!"

He didn't waste time. His hands shot out, grabbing Prue from Paige's hold and he orbed away.

As his very essence dissolved and turned into sparkling light, he wondered if his family was going to be all right. And just as his eyes faded away into nothingness, he caught sight of Piper blowing away demon number three and a small smile curled his lips.

Oh yeah, his family was going to be just fine.

Prue gurgled against his chest, trying to grab the blue glitters dancing around them. She seemed completely at ease, a far cry from just a few minutes ago when a demonic henchman had held her and Leo had thought that was it. They had lost her, lost her to the Source—but before the demon in question could shimmer away, Prue herself had beaten him to the punch and shimmered towards Cole welcoming arms.

As they coalesced back into human shape, the cold air of the mausoleum stale and quiet around them, Leo couldn't help but brush a knuckle against Prue's cheek. The baby leaned into his touch, and smiled at him.

"You did good, kiddo."

Wishing he had the time to orb a blanket for Prue, Leo took off his over-shirt and wrapped the baby with it, although it was not as chilly as one would have believed. After all, it was a mausoleum, wasn't it? Cement and marble all around them, not the best for a comfy, warm housing… but then again, whoever had built this back at the turn of the century probably hadn't paused to consider two magical fugitives would one day use it as shelter.

Shaking his head, he began pacing around the room. This was the third attempt at kidnapping Prue. Those living in the Halliwell manor were quick to learn that the Source wanted this baby, and wanted her badly. She had been with them less than two hours when the first demons had come for her: since them, their lives had turned into a whirlwind of attacks, one coming on the heels of the other. Luckily, with both Piper and Cole at their best, most of them never got within a feet of Prue—but there were only so many demons Piper could blow up before they became one too many.

That's why they had come up with this game plan: Leo – both because he had little firepower to speak of, and because his orbs were still faster than Paige's – was the designated teleporter, the one to orb Prue away from danger as soon as the rest of them were able to draw the enemy fire away from him. The mausoleum had been an easy choice: any demon who had once known it was Belthazor's hiding place was either dead or missing, and so far, none of the would-be kidnappers had thought to follow.

Which was good, because despite Leo's courage and certainty that no matter what, he would not let them get Prue, there was also the sad reality that there really wasn't much he could do if push came to shove.

Cursing under his breath his lack of active powers, Leo readjusted Prue in his arms. Perhaps next time he would bring something to entertain her with—or at least something to sit on. Pacing around got old rather quickly, and truth to be told, his arms were getting kind of tired of holding Prue up for so long.

As if sensing his thoughts, Prue stirred in his hold, shifting about so as to get a better look at the chamber around them. Or so Leo thought: it was always hard to tell why Prue did most of the things she did. Despite her young age – and she could not be a day older than three weeks – she seemed impossibly grown up for her age. She moved like a child much older, said the doctor in him, and the way she seemed to grasp most of what was going on defied even his own understanding.

Cole had told him most demonic babies were like that. Which had posed the most obvious question, Leo thought, leaning against the crypt standing right in the middle of the mausoleum chamber. If Prue's parentage had been demonic, why had the baby fled from the Underworld? Why had she sought protection with the Charmed Ones? And why hadn't her true parents come to take her back?

But most important of all: what was it about her that made the Source want her so bad?

He at least had the answer to that last question.

Power.

Little Prue had power. So much so that Leo had yet to see someone who could rival her in it. He could still remember the prickling of her magic that night in the attic, and he knew the Underworld had felt it too. And now they were after her, like bloodhounds after their prey, unstoppable until they were either dead or had achieved their goal.

Prue cooed against his ear, that sound that most babies make when they are seeing something they like, and he turned to find a headstone not five feet from where he stood.

"What is it, honey? What did you see?"

He didn't know how, but he half expected Prue to answer him. Instead, she just looked at him and smiled her big, toothless grin, almost as if daring him to find out on his own. Smiling back at her, he approached the wall. It was old, older than he had first assumed. Taking a look around, he noticed most of the engravings were of the mid 19th century, tracing back generations of people.

With a start, Leo realized he did not know whose family this mausoleum belonged to. Cole had just brought him here once; telling him it was a safe haven for anyone who needed protection against demons and the like. It had been a natural choice once the attacks on Prue began, and it had worked wonderfully so far.

Something akin to shame crept up his spine. He had been spending a lot of time here, hiding from the mercenaries sent to kidnap Prue, and not once had he taken the time and effort to find out whose last resting place they were desecrating. He sent a silent apology – because you never knew who might be listening – and brushed a hand across the dust-covered marble in front of him. Time and grime had washed the letters away, but he still read the last words: "beloved mother of five."

"I hope your family was a happy one, ma'am. Whoever it was you might have been."

His voice was incredibly loud against the unnatural silence of the mausoleum, but his heart felt a little better afterwards. Prue gurgled again, and he realized he had read the wrong crypt. It was actually the one to his left that had first attracted the baby's attention, and as he moved closer to look at it, he realized the layer of dust was much thinner over this one. So much so, he didn't even need to wipe it off to read the inscription:

Benjamin Coleridge Turner

1859-1888

He paused, read again, and blinked. It couldn't be. It was impossible. Cole had told them he had been but a child when his mother had taken him into the Underworld, and the man inside this coffin had been almost thirty years old when he died!

Prue cooed. Leo looked down at her, wrapped up in his shirt, her wide, blue eyes twinkling with mischief. Or that's how he read it, anyway: he wasn't sure babies were supposed to be mischievous at all. And that's when it made sense. This wasn't Cole's grave: it was his father's.

Reaching out, he placed a hand against the gravestone, his fingers a striking comparison against the faded gray of the wall. Did Cole know? Of course he did. How couldn't he? This had been his hideaway for a long time: Leo could tell from the way he talked about the mausoleum, almost as if it was an old friend he sometimes visited. Was this the reason he had chosen this particular place? Because his father's bones were watching over him?

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of such ominous thoughts. But he had been around for far too long to dismiss the possibility: he knew family was one of the strongest protections against magic, and if Cole's haven just happened to hold his family's remains well, then maybe it wasn't a coincidence at all.

He caught something off his peripheral vision then, a burnt stain on the cement floor. Approaching it with slow, careful steps, he knelt beside it, noticing the charred concrete. It looked as if something had been burned there—but the amount of heat generated was far too great for it to be a simple fire. Something had exploded in here, something magical no doubt. But what? And why had he only noticed it now? As if called forth by his questioning, Phoebe's voice floated by him, causing a sharp, sudden pain to blossom in his chest.

I couldn't kill him, Leo. I had every intention of doing it, but when I got there and I was face to face with him, I just, I couldn't kill him, and I knew that my sisters were going to.

Why was he remembering such things? Specially now, while standing in a deserted mausoleum—he knew Phoebe had spent a great deal of time here, mostly looking for Cole, or fighting with Cole or mourning for him after he first 'died'. Was that what that burnt mark was? His fingers traced the ragged patterns, and for a moment there, he could almost feel the faint traces of heat still lingering about.

"I still have the scars, you know."

The voice startled him. Prue cried out as his sudden motion jiggled her, and Leo stood to find Cole leaning against the entryway. There was blood running down the side of his face and a nasty wound on his temple, but otherwise, he seemed to have survived the attack on the manor just fine. Leo would have offered to heal him, but they both knew that in Cole's case, the remedy was worse than the injury itself.

But if Cole was here, it meant the demons were gone: it was time to go home.

Neither of them moved, however… they stood right where they were, watching each other across the burnt concrete, and Leo could read the uncertainty in Cole's eyes. What had happened here? What did the burn mark mean?

"Scars?" he found himself asking, softly probing him to continue. Something told him he would want to know what Cole had to say…

The half-demon said nothing for a long while. Dressed all in black, he looked sullen and hurt, as if whatever had happened right there in the mausoleum had been of vital importance to him and it pained him to remember it even now. Strangely, Prue remained silent as well. Not a peep came out of the small girl, but Leo could see she was watching Cole with as much intensity as he was—they were both waiting for him to calm down enough to share his burden with them.

"Yeah", Cole whispered finally, and the echo made his words louder despite his attempts to keep them down, "scars. Both of them, actually."

Riding right behind his words, a memory assaulted Leo: he had healed Cole; back when he hadn't known he was a demon yet. He had healed him at Phoebe's request, despite his mistrust, despite his suspicions… he had healed a lethal wound on his waist, where Piper had taken a chunk of his flesh. It had never really healed, Cole's body rejecting Leo's white magic until the two battled as ferociously as their owners once had. But that only accounted for one scar—what other old wound was Cole referring to?

As if reading his thoughts, a sad smile curled Cole's lips. "Did Phoebe ever tell you what happened that night?"

Mentioning her name brought more memories, more regrets into the fold. Prue cooed softly, almost as if she was remembering them herself. But she couldn't be, could she? She hadn't even been alive when all of this had happened; they were talking about something that had happened almost two years ago. The night Cole had been revealed as the demonic assassin sent against the Halliwells.

"Not really, no. She only told me she let you go."

His voice sounded strangely hollow against the silence of the mausoleum. Leo shook his head, gripped Prue tighter against his chest and continued: "I don't think she ever really told anyone. Not even her sisters."

Cole nodded, as if Leo had confirmed something he had suspected all along. What had transpired here in the mausoleum, between the two of them, had been a source of discussion in the Halliwell manor for months. Phoebe never offered to explain, and had politely declined any invitations to do so. Leo understood her reticence: she had come close to killing the love of her life that night, and to share it with her closest family would only open old wounds further. But now, it seemed he was going to get the unique chance to find out from the only other participant in the events: Cole himself.

"She was so angry with me", Cole began, his voice turning softer with every word he spoke, "and I was so desperate to make her understand."

The half-demon moved off the doorway, taking several steps into the floor. He approached the burnt mark, his eyes glued to the spot. Leo wished there was more light in the room so he could read Cole's face, but the older man was an expert at hiding himself when he wanted to. Everywhere he turned, the shadows seemed to move with him.

"I asked her to vanquish me", Cole continued, his entire face remaining within the shadows, only his lower body visible in the flickering light of the single torch behind Leo. His hands were fisted, Leo noted, and there was a faint tremor running up and down Cole's entire frame, as if what he was trying to say had been trying to get out for a long, long time.

It actually came as a surprise to Leo to hear Cole say that. How much trust must he have had in Phoebe to offer his life to her? How very much in love they had been, that they both defied their entire worlds for just a few months together… Leo's heart constricted in his chest at the thought. It seemed defying universal, ancient rules ran in the Halliwell family: wasn't his and Piper's relationship forbidden as well?

Star-crossed lovers didn't even begin to describe it, did it?

"She wouldn't. I kept asking her to, and she wouldn't. And then Krell", the name was whispered such anger that it made the hairs on Leo's arms stand on end, "came."

Cole fell silent after that. His breathing was slow, almost nonexistent, and for a moment there, Leo thought that was all he was going to say. So he spoke up, changing Prue from one arm to the other: "Phoebe mentioned that. She told us you had killed Krell right before she—" He couldn't finish. It had been a lie, yes, a pretty lie meant to soothe the avenging hearts of her sisters. But still, it had been one of the rashest, most passionate decisions Phoebe had ever made, and that resonated against Cole himself: it was a statement of her love for him, of how far she was willing to go for him, and to remind him of that was like driving a dagger right through his chest.

A dry chuckle answered him and Cole stepped into the light. His eyes were haunted, stormy—they looked black in the candlelight, and Leo was forced to remember that underneath that human appearance laid a demon heart.

"Yeah, I did. The bastard tried to kill her and I couldn't—I just couldn't stand there and watch."

Leo knew how hard it was for Cole to tell him these things. That decision, that single decision to kill one of his brethren to save Phoebe had been the last step into the abyss, the last stone over his grave. He had chosen Phoebe above himself, thus forever condemning himself in the demon world. To a man as proud as Cole, it was hard to admit such weakness: but somehow, he was doing it now, laying it out for the only other man who could understand and not judge.

"She—she asked me for my shirt", he said, raising his right hand palm-side up, gazing into his skin as if it held all the secrets of the world. "She used my own athame – the one I was supposed to kill her with – to cut me." He presented his right palm to Leo, held it towards him across the burnt mark, and Leo saw the horizontal scar that ran right across. How he had missed it before, he couldn't really say, but Leo knew that Cole was an expert at hiding certain aspects of him when he wanted to… keeping something as trivial as a scar away from prying eyes must have been rather easy for him.

When Cole was certain Leo had seen in, he took his hand back, slowly, letting it draw across the empty space between them. It lingered above the center of the burn mark, and he seemed to be mimicking his exact motions from two years ago as he continued: "My blood dripped unto the shirt", he said, and squeezed his hand shut so hard his knuckles turned white, "and she used the vanquishing potion on it."

It was almost anticlimactic that there was no explosion to follow his words. Such was the power of his tale that Leo felt as if he had been standing right there, watching the events take place. But he hadn't been, and this had all happened years ago and the fire had died long before Leo had ever set foot in the mausoleum.

A lot of things made sense now. Piper had told him about the explosion, the scorched remains of what they had believed to be Belthazor still burning as they had entered the mausoleum, to find a distraught Phoebe standing alone and alive. It had been quite the clever plan, Leo mused, admiring Phoebe's quick mind. To come up with such a complicated – and at the same time ever so simple – plot in the space of a few heartbeats spoke volumes of Phoebe's abilities. Not only had she succeeded in placating Prue's and Piper's thirst for revenge, but she also made the Underworld believe Belthazor was dead, thus leaving Cole at peace to do as he wished.

And he came back, he thought, watching Cole turn away from him as the first tears glittered in his eyes, even after the chance of freedom she offered him.

"She was a great woman", Leo said in the end, silently thanking Cole for offering him this. For giving him a glimpse of what it had been like between him and Phoebe; for revealing a side of him he seldom let out, "and she loved you very much."

It seemed like a silly thing to say, considering the circumstances. But it came from his heart and it felt right, so when Cole shook himself and turned back at him, Leo did not regret saying it.

"Yes, she was."

They stared at each other and Prue gurgled, breaking the silence. A small smile curled both their lips and Leo shrugged: "We should be heading back. The girls are going to be worried about us."

Cole nodded. He offered to take Prue from him, and the baby happily stretched out her arms at him as if awaiting his offer all along. As the baby settled more comfortably against Cole's chest, both demon and whitelighter teleported away towards the manor.

At the mausoleum, the burnt mark shivered once, twice, and fire burned at its edges.

True love always leaves something behind.


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TBC…

Yes, I chose to end both 'chapters' in the same fashion. Why? Well, perhaps because I want you to remember this last event as something that will come back later… or maybe I'm just playing with you :-)