Chapter VIII - Blood Ties

"Don't give in. Phoebe, don't let it take you!"

She could hear the strong, calm words in her mind soothing her fierce insanity. For a moment, the darkness quelled, and she could see again. There, in front of her, was Cole, right where he should be. He was her knight, her hero. He would save her.

"Help me," she pleaded desperately to him.

She heard the quiet words leave her strangled lips. But then the darkness consumed her heart, and her screams of terror were lost in an abyss of black sea.


Phoebe's consciousness returned. She turned her head drearily, and opened her eyes. A deep, auburn light stung at her vision, and she squinted beyond herself. She could make out the dark shapes of jagged walls and could hear the crackle of a fire not far off. Had she had another dream?

"Ah, and Beauty awakes."

Apparently not.

Phoebe's vision cleared slightly and she shook herself awake. There was a pounding ache just above her right eye, and she could feel a trickle of fresh blood oozing down her temple. She tried to move, but everything beyond her head was seemingly paralysed. A dark figure, clad in black shirt and trousers with a long, leather coat, stood not far off. His face was thin and sneering, and was master to a long nose and greedy smile. He was pacing the dank, underground cavern slowly.

"So… which one are you?" he asked icily. His voice was thin, yet sly. Just hearing it made Phoebe feel slightly nauseous: though, it also may have had something to do with the wringing headache in her temples. Her mind was too groggy for speech, so she choked pathetically. She could feel something sinister inside her, licking at her heart like flames in a fire. But she was still herself – for now.

"I asked you a question," the sly demon said, his voice becoming smooth like silk. Phoebe, her mind working but her mouth still not, remained silent.

The demon stepped forwards casually, letting the rims of his black leather shoes kick up dust from the cavern floor. He stopped just a few inches short of her face, letting his eyes glide from the gash on her forehead, over her grim face and down her thin, slender body. Phoebe shuddered inwardly. She hated demons.

The demon glanced up sharply at her reaction. He let a wry smile tickle the edges of his mouth, enjoying her anguish.

"You must be Phoebe," he said, not taking his eyes off her. "I can see what that demon Belthazor saw in you. Feisty little witch. Pity about the sickening urge to do Good, though. But – we can soon change that."

He raised his eyebrows.

Phoebe lolled her head briefly, before finding the strength within herself to speak. The mention of Cole had given her a grasp on reality, if only slight.

"My sisters…" she spluttered, but did not have the strength to continue.

"…Are already too late," the demon finished for her, a malevolent glint gleaming in his eye.

Phoebe shook her head slowly.

"No…"

But she was too weak to fight anymore. The burning intensity in her heart increased, and something began to change inside her. She felt new strength rise up from within her, but with it, a terrifying power to kill.

"That's it," the demon replied coaxingly, though he backed away slightly. "You can't fight for much longer. There's too much to die for."

Phoebe's head snapped up suddenly. Her eyes blazed a dazzling bright blue, and when she spoke, her voice was etched with the shrill prick of iniquity.

"Tell me who you are."

"All in good time – "

"No, now!" she shrieked. The demon watched with glee as her left hand twitched. This was it. The witch was losing. He bowed his head in reply, like a servant to his master.

"Very well," he answered silkily, "I will tell you what you wish to know."

Phoebe considered him for a moment, a suspicious glint appearing in her eyes.

"You are a demon," she stated. It was more an observation than a question. The demon bowed, signifying her accuracy. "What will you do with me?"

"Do?" he scoffed, and then remembered to whom he was talking. "My lady, I am Mackenzie – Mack to most. Demon of the Underworld, though most around here would not like to admit to it. It has taken me great time and patience to get you here as you are now. But I look forward to hearing what you have to do."

"This body is weak," Phoebe growled, her voice no longer her own. "You think I cannot endure a stronger one."

"It – ah – displeases you?" Mack asked, faltering. The last thing he needed was a pissed off warlock on his hands. Phoebe looked at him momentarily.

"No."

Mackenzie sighed briefly. It was a risky business, attempting to turn one of the Charmed Ones. Who knew what it could amount to?

What's going on? Phoebe's thoughts rang out in her head. Where am I? Who is this guy? She tried to voice her objections, but found that her speech was suppressed before it could reach her throat. At the corners of her mind, she could feel something menacing invading her thoughts. It was difficult to fight it off. There was something growing inside of her, some desperate need to be free…

Phoebe tore herself away from the wall in an angry fit. The paralysis spell used to keep her there was now completely useless. She stood for a moment, panting with recovery from the sheer effort it took to break away. The same pinpricking feeling in her mind became stronger, and stronger. She spoke, but it was not Phoebe speaking.

"She is strong," Phoebe's voice said before her. "She fights well."

Delight spread across Mackenzie's face. He had expected a challenge from the witch, not for her to give in so easily. Perhaps this could be easier than he imagined.

"The witch in her is still connected with her sisters," Mack offered dryly. "That is the only thing keeping you and her apart, keeping her free."

"What do you suggest?" the sadistic voice asked. In her mind, Phoebe could feel herself pushing something away; but the more force she used to keep it from her psyche, the harder it seemed to battle against her.

"It's simple," Mack replied, reaching into a deep pocket of his leather coat. His hand retreated and, with it, a gleaming, glistening silver athame. It was tainted with magical symbols, and the power emitted off it in waves. The demon watched the witch in front of him straighten up, and her eyes become shot with a dark, thick black. The corners of a smile lit up in his mouth, and he held the athame out to her, handle first. "You kill them."


Piper stood in the kitchen with her hands on her hips. She was staring defiantly staring at the ceiling, ignoring the reluctance of both Paige and Cole. By this time, they had given up trying to reason with her, and had retreated back into the living room to try and figure out how to heal the book. There was too much for Piper to cope with. She couldn't cope with her sister being evil. She couldn't cope with the return of Cole. She couldn't cope with her husband being ripped away from her, by the very people whose lives they were supposed to be dependant on. So, for the moment, she shouted.

"I don't know what you asses are playing at, but if you hadn't noticed, we're a sister down right now!"

She looked expectantly at the ceiling, and her mouth thinned.

From inside the living room, Cole winced. He couldn't see Piper in the kitchen, but he could definitely hear her shrewd voice through the air.

"Good to see some things never change," he said, peering around the corner. But he couldn't see Piper.

"Yup," Paige agreed, with a heavy sigh. "Just another day in the life of the 'Charmed Ones'."

She had meant it mockingly.

Cole pulled his head up for a moment, a thoughtful frown creasing his forehead.

"Did Piper find anything scrying?" he asked eventually, turning back to Paige. She shook her head.

"Nothing of use," she replied miserably. "Only that, with a heavy enough crystal, cotton thread really doesn't last very long."

Cole frowned harder. There was something nagging at him; something that Piper had said whilst he was in the void.

"Something the matter?" Paige asked brusquely, seeing his expression.

"I don't know..." he replied thoughtfully. Cole ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He felt so helpless, like he was trapped in a child's game of tag. He knew there was a lot more each of them could be doing, especially himself. He so wanted to be able to conjure a fireball, and shimmer to wherever he felt Phoebe near, that it almost tore him in half – more so than when he was a demon. The most part of him didn't miss it. He didn't miss the aggravating, angering war he was always waging on himself. He didn't miss the nagging temptation of always giving in; leaving everything he had ever wanted. He didn't miss the hot-blooded temper that accompanied everything he hated in himself. But he had been with magic for so long, with that power inside of him, that even without them, he wasn't truly sure where the lingering demon effects left off and where his human Cole began. But the one thing he did long for, the thing he missed most from anything else, was his power to protect Phoebe. Without his powers, he was nothing to her. Not that it mattered now.

"Cole?"

Paige had sensed something was wrong, and arose from the couch. He looked up desperately.

"Can you sense her?"

"Phoebe?" Paige asked, confused. Cole nodded. "No... I've never been strong on the sensing, and now she's evil, she probably doesn't want to be found anyway."

"We haven't lost her yet," Cole said determinedly, and started up the attic stairs. The book may be evil, but he was damned if he were just going to let her go like that. He had suddenly had an idea about that nagging little feeling.

Paige was after him in a flash, darting up the stairs. She called out for Piper, but her eldest sister was still too busy in her own problems of trying to get their whitelighter back. Paige shrugged, and followed Cole. She found him in the attic rummaging through a storage cupboard.

"Hey!" she protested, marching over to him. He retracted from the drawer, and his hand was a sharp, polished knife. Paige's eyes widened as she saw her reflection look back at her from the smooth blade. "What do you think you're doing?"

Cole shook his head, and walked over to the map with the scrying crystal.

"We share a bond, Phoebe and I – even between you and Piper," he said, his concentrated eyes not looking up from the blade. Paige rolled her eyes. Not this again.

"Cole, how many times – "

"Paige," he said sharply, interrupting. "I know you don't like it. But it's true. It's not the bond I thought we had: Phoebe and I are not destined to be together. Believe or not, I've learned that now. But we do share a bond, a connection, and nothing you can say is going to change that. Now will you hear me out?"

Paige considered the ex-demon for a moment. Seeing him standing rigidly over the small desk, knife in hand, crystal in the other, was somehow touching. She hated to admit it, but there was something different about him. So she nodded for him to continue.

"The bond we have transcends everything. Life, death, magic, mortality – even destiny. We're connected, and if we are, that means I'll always be able to find her. There will always be something for each of us to hold on to, which is keeping either of us from truly moving on. That's why I was stuck in the void, attached to her. And it's why she hasn't had a successful relationship since."

Paige would have objected, but it was true. Every man Phoebe had loved since couldn't give her what she needed.

"So, with that in mind, maybe I can find her," Cole finished. "I may not be magical, but the love we once shared doesn't just die. It remains in everything we do. So I can find her."

"It still seems like a long shot to me," Paige said aloud. There wasn't anything more she wanted than to see Phoebe back, happy and healthy. But she hadn't really seen her sister that way since Drake. And she missed it.

Cole looked up from the map he had been studying.

"It's the only shot we've got," he said matter-of-factly. And he was right. Paige met his eye contact, and held a firm gaze.

"Anything you want me to do?" she asked eventually, and Cole smiled to have her support.

"Yeah," he replied, rolling up the sleeve of his arm. "Take this."

He sliced the knife across his skin, letting a thin sliver of skin slide over it. Crimson liquid began to ooze from the cut and trickle down his forearm. Cole shivered in pain. He had never before realised just how different the threshold of pain for a human was. Paige flinched horribly, and looked away. Cole, his other hand now over the cut to stop excessive blood loss, grinned a little.

"So demons and warlocks you can handle, but you cringe at a little human blood?"

Paige opened an eye and looked at the knife, now letting blood dribble over the map.

"Let's just say I wasn't cut out to be a nurse," she replied, edging towards it. She picked the knife up, which still had Cole's flesh on it. "What do you want me to do with this?" she asked, disgusted.

"Take it down to Piper," Cole replied, trying not to pass out with the immense pain in his arm. "Tell her it's to find Phoebe. I'll be down to help with the potion you're going to need."

"Potion?" Paige queried, a puzzled look spreading over her face.

"Go," Cole insisted. He looked up to Paige's twinkling eyes. "Trust me."

When Paige was out of the attic, Cole let out a small, muffled cry. He took his hand away from the cut in his arm, and was horrified to see his hand stained crimson. He flexed his arm gently, but recoiled with the ache it sent through his cut.

"Memo to self," he said, as he carefully rolled down his sleeve again. "Knives hurt."

And with that, he turned and left the attic.


A/N: I know that this story has been slow starting, but more will be happening in the next few. I just wanted to build up a feeling os suspense: though, granted, I may have gone a little far with it. I'm not really feeling that inspired of late, and work has been getting on top of me, so I may be a short while in my updates. Even so, dropping a review in would really perk things up a bit. This is my frist fanfic, and knowing the good parts and the bad parts will help me in the future. Besides, everyone likes reviews. Oh, and yes Ele, there will be more Phoebe/Cole cuddling. You don't really think I'd bring him back for nothing, do you? ;-)