Change of Heart
Chapter 10: Realizations
by Lilian
lilian413 at yahoo dot com
Author's Notes: This is my favorite chapter so far, if I may say such things. I was never really happy with the way the truth came out in the first version of this story, so when it was time to re-write it, this was the result and I was a very, very happy girl. But fear not, readers, because the earlier version of things will somehow work its way in.
On sadder news, I think I'll be forced to install an every-other week update instead of the every-week schedule we've been keeping so far. This mainly because Chicago has eaten my brain and despite of the many, many ideas buzzing around in my head, I just can't seem to find the time to sit down and actually write them. Fear not, this in no way means I'll stop writing CoH (again, ahem), but only that updates will be fewer from now on. Once things settle back down, we can resume the normally advertised schedule of things. :-)
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"Honey, I don't think this is such a great idea."
Piper did not grace her husband with a look, and as she rocked little Prue up and down, she just muttered her answer into Prue's head as she bent down to pick up her discarded toy.
"You've been saying that for the past forty-five minutes. I'm not listening any more."
Leo sighed, rubbing his temples, feeling the headache coming. What was it about babies that drove women insane? He had seen it happen time and time again—even the most sensible of women, the most stoic and pragmatic of all, every single one of them were reduced to mushy, irrational fools! This time, it was Piper's turn: what on Earth had possessed her to take little Prue to the doctor, Leo would never know. The baby was perfectly fine, and if she wasn't, well, what was he there for?
He tried telling Piper this, had even managed to get in a word or two before Piper shot him a glare, effectively silencing him. Prue was going to see a doctor, and that was the end of it. Every baby has to have a pediatrician, Piper had said, and beside her, Paige nodded accordingly. Leo had tried to find some support in Cole – surely of everyone in the house, he would be the one to understand that taking a demonic baby to a human doctor was not a good idea – but Cole had simply shrugged his shoulders and conceded defeat.
And he calls me whipped, Leo grumbled under his breath, sitting next to his wife in the waiting area of Dr. Barbara Anderson's office. He winced as the toddler to his left decided his mother had spent enough time reading the magazine and broke into tears, loudly announcing to the world that he was a very spoiled child.
The doctor's office was packed. It seemed that every squirming, bellowing baby in San Francisco had set up an appointment for today. And since he and Piper were one of the happy couples, he was stuck listening to five different babies testing out their lungs.
A concerned mother – or nanny, it was really hard to tell these days – was bouncing her baby up and down hard enough to make the tiny hat upon the baby's head bob hypnotically, and Leo tried to ignore the organized chaos happening around him. Closing his eyes for just a moment, he tried some old relaxation techniques he knew, and found out it was really hard to find your center when the sound of a small mechanical merry-go-round was ringing right in your ear. But in the end, his determination won over the ruckus, and he found himself blocking out the outside noise and reaching for that calm, empty space inside.
It had been a little over a month since Prue had come into their lives. And now that they had the diaper changing, bottle-feeding and demon killing down to a science, they were beginning to set up the first blueprints of a plan to get Phoebe out of the Underworld. With their soul protecting spell still going strong – they recast it every few weeks, just to make sure the Source was not working his way around it – they were certain Phoebe's soul was in no danger as of yet. Still, they could not bear the thought of her remaining as the Source's prisoner for longer than she had to, so as soon as things had (somewhat) settled down, they began brainstorming for a plan.
They had not gotten very far: the problem of what to do with Prue while they went into the Underworld to fetch Phoebe's soul had not been resolved. There were options they had dallied with: protection spells, cloaking spells… you name it, they had thought about it, but the real problem remained. There was no one strong enough to defend Prue against the oncoming demon kidnappers but themselves. And since they could not spare anyone for their trip into the Underworld, well, that limited their choices a bit.
Thinking about Prue made him open his eyes and stare at the baby in Piper's lap. Her striking blue eyes were wide and curious as they surveyed the room, and it struck Leo as a really grown-up thing to do. She seemed to be assessing potential threats or even making sure she knew all the exits… it couldn't be, could it? Just to make sure, Leo dropped his shields and scanned the waiting room. No, there were no imminent dangers lurking about. Everyone in the doctor's office was human… seemingly reaching the same conclusion; Prue blinked and seemed to come back into herself. Her hands clapped once, twice, three times, and she bobbed up and down on Piper's legs until the lady sitting across from them broke into a smile.
"She's quite energetic, isn't she?"
Piper nodded, that proud grin she reserved for Prue-related matters sneaking onto her face. "Yeah, she is. It took us forever to get her dressed this morning!" She didn't mention that most of the 'forever' had been occupied chasing the baby around the house as she shimmered from room to room. But the woman needed no further explanation, it seemed, because she nodded in response: "I know what you mean. My little Damon can be quite a handful as well." Both women launched into a conversation involving diapers and excess sugar and baby food, and Leo tuned them out. Prue was trying to climb off of Piper's lap, and scooping the baby up, he walked up to the window.
It was a nice day outside in San Francisco, the sun shinning bright across a cloudless sky, and Prue seemed to like it. Her chubby hands stretched out towards the glass, as if trying to grasp the endless blue that lay beyond it. When her hands met the cold window, she seemed a bit disappointed, but the next shiny thing that crossed her field of sight soon diverted her attention.
It had been the obvious thing to do, Leo knew, to take Prue to a pediatrician. Yes, she was half-demonic, but half of her was human, and as such, susceptible to human diseases. As much as Cole had tried to tell Piper that he had been a perfectly healthy child, there had been no reasoning with her. And, truth to be told, Leo didn't want to test Cole's theory: the half-demon had reacted badly to Leo healing him… what would Leo's magic do if directed to Prue? Better safe than sorry went the saying, right?
So here they were, Piper and him, posing as the proud parents of a healthy baby girl. Looking back at Piper, still engrossed in deep conversation with Damon's mother, Leo felt a pang of angst go off in his chest. How much he wanted to give Piper that gift, a child of their own… but how could they even ponder the thought, with the lives they led? How could they even try, when the knowledge that the Source would use their child as bait always lurked in the horizon?
No, there would be no pitter-patter of tiny feet in the Halliwell manor for a long, long time.
Prue cooed in his ear, motioning for a plastic baby pacifier on the table to his left. Bending down to pick it up, he gave it to her and realized he was wrong: there would be tiny feet running around the manor, just not the ones he would've liked. Prue would grow up, as all babies did, and she would start walking, talking and calling them by their names. The thought of hearing her voice say his name – any of their names – was incredibly sweet, and a silly smile curled his lips. As if to prove his point, Prue let out one of her 'dada's', and Leo brushed a finger across her knuckles.
"Leo", he whispered, his voice only an octave above the bustle and hustle of the waiting room, "Can you say that, Prue? Leo."
The girl turned to look at him, always alert when her name was spoken. She looked at him for a while, standing perfectly still on her perch against his chest, and Leo suddenly felt a burst of embarrassment for asking her to say his name. Of course such a young child couldn't say words—she wasn't even two months old!
"Isn't she a little young for that?"
The voice startled him, and he turned to find Damon's mom standing right beside him. Looking for Piper, he found her talking to the secretary, and shrugging his shoulders, explained: "I know. I just wanted to try and see if it worked."
He felt rather silly telling a complete stranger such things, but Damon's mom – what was her name, anyway? – seemed to understand. "I do the same. Roger keeps telling me it's too soon, but I just can't help myself!"
Leo smiled at that. He could relate… and well, he couldn't really explain to this woman that Prue wasn't like other children. Cole had told them demonic babies were early bloomers – which explained Prue's strange behavior and advanced motor skills – so it was often that Leo found himself thinking about Prue as she was months, or even years older than she really was.
"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name earlier", Leo continued, not letting the conversation fall into a lull. The woman seemed flustered, and she hesitated just the tiniest bit before answering: "Amanda. Amanda Dyes. You are Leo, right? Piper couldn't stop talking about you…"
He flushed, but Amanda was already moving on: "She's such a lovely little girl!" she was saying, tickling at Prue's chin, "you and Piper are very lucky to have her." A shadow of something passed through her eyes, fast enough that Leo wondered if he hadn't imagined it in the first place. But then a nurse was calling their name, and Piper was motioning for him to move, so he didn't have time to give it much thought. Apologizing for having to leave, he approached Piper and the waiting nurse, and noticed that Amanda followed their progress all the way from across the room.
A shiver of something run up and down his spine, but by then an elderly woman with a white coat was hugging the life out of Piper and the feeling disappeared.
He shouldn't have dismissed his hunches so easily.
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She stumbled into her quarters with a pained moan. Summoning a privacy shield – if she was going to break down, she'd be damned if she was letting the rest of the Underworld know about it – she blocked herself in. Letting herself fall unceremoniously onto the bed, Phax burrowed her face into the silken sheets, fighting for breath.
The left side of her shirt was burned out, and the skin was still a little tender—Jhiera had made sure her electric bolt hit her where it hurt the most: that place where lung muscle and arm met, so it would hurt just so every time she even moved. Cursing under her breath, she rolled upon the bed, wincing when her body protested. Despite her great healing abilities (courtesy of the Source's magic), it still hurt when she was wounded… and she had taken quite a beating today, hadn't she?
Yes, she was getting better. How could she not? She was a quick learner – one had to be in the Underworld or you were dead rather quickly – but Jhiera was always a step ahead. Whenever Phax thought she had mastered a new technique, perfected a new move, Jhiera would come up with a new variation that would end with Phax plastered to one of the walls, preferably coughing up blood.
Anger rose within her like a living beast, snarling and biting. "Damn it", she said, her voice sounding incredibly loud in the empty room. The silence that followed was overwhelming—so much so that she even considered the thought of leaving her quarters just to get away from it. Funny how one could get used to the pained screams of the tortured souls… they were welcomed noise, after a while. But her privacy shield was good, and it kept all outside noise, well, out. So she was left alone with her own ragged breathing as sole companion, and closed her eyes to try and get some rest.
So close, she had been so close this time! The Source had promised her she'd be allowed topside only after she had been able to defeat Jhiera in combat. And tonight she had been so damned close—poised and ready to fire, standing over a kneeling Jhiera, fireball burning in her hand. And then…
And then she had hesitated.
A split second of doubt, less than a heartbeat when her mind rebelled against the thought, and that was it. Next thing she knew she was flying across the training chamber and Jhiera's laughter echoed around her, mocking and baiting.
"Having a conscience is a liability here, Phax", the black-haired demoness told her, a satisfied smirk upon her lips, just the tip of her fangs peeking through, "And until you understand that, you will never win."
The bitch had kneeled next to her then, watching with curiosity as Phax's broken ribs mended and the torn skin re-knit itself: "Despite those pretty eyes of yours, you still can't beat me, can you?"
Phax pushed the heels of her hands against her closed eyelids. Yes, pretty eyes indeed. The brown pupils were long gone, erased from her features just as her daughter had been from her life. Her eyes were black now, that midnight black that was the stuff of nightmares. She liked them, liked how they made her look: menacing and imposing, just as the Source's assassin should. And yet there was a tiny part of her that mourned the loss of her true eyes—some distant, mostly ignored part of her that preferred to look into the mirror and not find shadows looking back.
As changes went, it was a pretty good one: demons didn't mess as much with her now. Somehow, the acquisition of demon eyes had given her the status she had coveted for so long—in some ways, the Underworld was a lot like high school, wasn't it? A sick, feeble chuckle bubbled forth from her throat: what would the Source think if he knew she was comparing his reign of terror to a mortal institution?
Probably kill me. Or laugh his ass off, depending on his mood.
The image was suddenly too much to bear, and laughter came our sharp and hard. Her body rocked back and forth as the giggles grabbed hold of her, and she didn't even mind the aching of her chest as her ribs objected to the effort.
As her laughter died down, the silence became oppressive once more. It weighed down on her like a living thing, breathing and expanding with every move she made. And then, a faint sound, nothing more than a whisper…
A baby crying.
She bolted upright in bed, heart hammering inside her chest. She wasn't even aware of the twin fireballs dancing atop her hands, and as her eyes scanned the room looking for something that wasn't - couldn't – be there, it was as if the very world was holding its breath, waiting for her to decide what to do next. Of course, there was nothing there. Phax knew what it was; knew exactly where it came from. It was her conscience, the same one that had kept her from killing Jhiera that now brought up phantom sounds of her dead daughter to torment her.
What an irony it was, that the very thing that kept her from achieving her goal was also the one fueling her further on.
She had erased the burnt mark on the floor a long time ago. She couldn't bear to look at it, the visual proof of the terrible thing she had been forced to do, so she had cast simple magic upon it. It was long gone, not even a speck of charred rock remaining behind—and still she could see it anyway, burnt into her brain with fire. She found herself unconsciously avoiding that part of the room, circling around it like a scared child. Fitting, wasn't it, that it was also a burn like the one that marked her as the Source's.
Phax ran her fingers across the rune carved into her upper arm. It didn't hurt – her healing abilities made sure of that – but sometimes, when the Source was around it… well, it throbbed. As if recognizing its master, the blood in her veins sang in response to his presence, and it irked the hell out of her. Because it meant there was something in her that didn't belong there, something that wasn't supposed to be in her and yet there it was, inside of her, creeping and crawling and just—wrong.
But it is his blood that grants you power, isn't it?
Her fingers froze above her skin, poised and ready to attack, when she realized that voice was no other than her own. Strange, but the longer she remained in the Underworld, the more it seemed that some part of her was becoming—different. Separated. Alive. Perhaps being a servant to a psychopathic, evil overlord was beginning to rub off on her. Whatever the case, it was spooky to be hearing her voice inside her own head, saying things she wasn't thinking…
Aren't you? The voice came and went like waves upon the shore, fleeing before she could grasp them properly. Shaking her head, she rose from the bed. She really needed to get out of here if she was beginning to hear voices… perhaps if she went out for a walk, some demon stupid enough to cross her path would prove enough entertainment to silence her own mind.
As Phax left the room, she failed to notice a shadowy figure reflected on her mirror. It smiled, fangs flashing in the darkness, and then dissolved as if it had never existed at all.
.
Piper was impressed. She remembered Dr. Anderson as an energetic, vivacious woman, who looked a lot like her mother in that way that all adults do when you're a child. Now, almost thirty years later, she was still an energetic, vivacious woman—except she now had gray hair and glasses, and her right hand shook just the tiniest bit when she had it in the air for long.
"Oh my God, Piper, I still can't believe it's you. You are such a lovely young woman!"
She blushed, never really one to take compliments well. This was a woman who had seen her out of her mother's womb—she was an OB/GYN as well a pediatrician, not an uncommon mixture for the doctors of the old school. It was nice to hear her say such things, but also the tiniest bit embarrassing.
"I swear, you look just like your mother", Dr. Anderson was saying now, and this time, the praise made Piper smile. The good doctor was not the first one to notice the family resemblance, but still, the knowledge that sometimes people looked at her and saw her mother reflected in her features; well, it made Piper's heart swell with pride.
"And who is this little angel?"
Prue gurgled upon her lap, and Piper shook herself off her reverie. "This is Prue, doctor. Our Prue." It was a two-edged sword, that sentence… on one side, it gave her warm and fuzzy feelings in her stomach to present Prue as her daughter, but on the other hand, it also made the lack of true children of her own a lot more painful. But Dr. Anderson was already talking, and Piper chased the gloomy thoughts away: "Is she indeed? Let's have a look at her, then."
It struck Piper as a little odd that Dr. Anderson had not asked about Prue's origins—she had a nice cover story that comprised home birth and natural remedies – but then again, the good doctor had never asked much questions where the Halliwells were concerned. As they moved to the examination table, where Piper set Prue down, she wondered just how much Dr. Anderson really knew… hadn't she, after all, seen their blood work more than once? She had to know something!
As Dr. Anderson took Prue's temperature, measured her heartbeat and did the doctor thing, Piper caught something moving on the edge of her vision. Through the corner of his eyes, she saw one of the baby cubes beginning to float. Nothing too fancy, just a few inches above the floor, but it was enough to catch her attention, and unless she did something quick, soon Dr. Anderson would take notice.
Making sure she was out of the doctor's sight, she mouthed silent words to Prue: "Honey, not now. We're in public."
Prue cooed, looking up to her with impossibly big blue eyes. Piper shook her head to emphasize her point, and repeated, still quietly: "Please, Prue. Put it down." For a moment it seemed Prue was not going to agree. But then her features scrunched up as she smiled, and the cube floated back down harmlessly. Just then, Dr. Anderson extracted the stethoscope from her ears and announced: "Well, she is a perfectly healthy young baby girl."
As if in cue with her words, the door opened and a young nurse came in. She handed Dr. Anderson some charts and then exited with a small smile directed at Prue. The doctor opened the first file, and grinned, turning back to look at them: "I took the liberty of calling for your old charts… keeping things in the family, you know?"
The doctor motioned for them to sit down while she moved back to the desk. Piper set Prue back on her lap, wishing they had brought up her stroller from the car. Alas, they hadn't, so she was stuck with having to hold on to a very impatient, squirming Prue while waiting for Dr. Anderson to finish going through Prue's blood work. This was the point of no return: this was when they were going to know if Dr. Anderson really knew something… Piper searched the old woman's face, trying to catch a glimpse of surprise, a hint of 'hmm, this is not supposed to be here', and for a split second, she feared the worst. But then Dr. Anderson looked up, closed the charts, and smiled: "Everything's just fine."
The breath both Piper and Leo had been holding came out rather loudly, and again, Dr. Anderson proved her impartiality by saying nothing. She just shook her head and flicked Prue's nose from across the desk. Prue answered with a giggle and swatted at the doctor's hand.
Something inside of Piper released, something tight and twisted that had been living inside her chest. Some concern for Prue's well being, perhaps, or simply the fear of bringing a half-demon baby to a human pediatrician. Whatever the case, hearing the doctor say that there was nothing wrong with her was incredibly liberating… but it also brought up a lot of questions. If Dr. Anderson knew – and Piper was pretty certain she did – about the blood abnormalities and the strange results that came with the Halliwell last name, did that mean Prue had the same inconsistencies? But shouldn't she be different, as different from the Halliwells as they were from other mortals, because of her demonic make-up? Why hadn't Dr. Anderson said anything?
Leo was asking something, but Piper was too lost in her own thoughts to hear him. There was a feeling in the back of her head, a buzzing of sorts that demanded her attention. She had just stumbled into something back there, something very, very important… what was it, dear Goddess, what was it?
"No, not at all", Dr. Anderson was saying, shaking her head and making her glasses bob upon her nose, "She is perfectly healthy. She is just a little small for her age, but most children don't finish their development until their first year. She still has a lot to grow, don't you precious?"
Prue gurgled, assenting. Dr. Anderson's smile turned wider, and Piper responded unconsciously by readjusting Prue on her lap. "She reminds me so much of Phoebe, though—the resemblance runs strong in your family!" continued the doctor, shaking her head in disbelief.
Piper opened her mouth to correct her, but the words died upon her lips. Leo stepped in then, but this time, not even the echo of his voice could reach Piper. Because, as her fingers tightened upon Prue's waist and the girl jumped up and down in glee, something clicked into place in Piper's head.
She reminds me so much of Phoebe. Dr. Anderson's words reverberated in Piper's mind, awakening a certainty that she hadn't even known existed.
She reminds me of Prue, Cole had said, back when Prue had first come into their lives.
And hadn't she herself been thinking, not long ago, that there was an incredible similarity between Prue's and Cole's eyes?
Mind reeling from the revelation, Piper gently held Prue and turned her around, blue eye meeting brown. The small girl flashed her a toothless grin, the kind that melted people's hearts, but all Piper could ask herself was why hadn't she seen it before. It was there, it was right there! It was there in the shape of her eyes, all Prue's, her sister's, almond-like and elegantly curved up. It was there in the slope of her nose, all Cole's—and there, right there, it was Phoebe's smile!
A gasp fell from her lips and Prue clapped, almost as if congratulating Piper on discovering her secret. Piper's hands felt clammy and shaky when she set Prue down again, not quite trusting her own strength at this point.
Prue was Phoebe and Cole's daughter… Prue was Phoebe's daughter. She was an aunt!
A hand settled upon her shoulder and she jumped in surprise, eyes flashing and meeting Leo's worried glance. "Honey? Is that okay with you?"
She blinked a few times. "Uh?" was all she managed to articulate. It seemed she was seeing everything from behind this magnifying glass, making everything stand out with eerie contrast. She could almost count the specks of gold inside Leo's blue eyes…
"Bringing Prue back for another check-up in about a month", Leo told her, frowning at her apparent lack of interest in Prue's well fare. But no, that wasn't it! She wanted to tell him, she needed to tell him, but Dr. Anderson was there—should she freeze her? Should she stop time and share this incredible secret with Leo?
The decision was taken from her as she found herself nodding. No, not yet. She needed proof, needed to make sure… she wouldn't bring her family's hopes up for nothing. She needed to get back to the house, to the Book—there had to be some spell for this. That had survived the fire, of course… but it didn't matter! None of it did. Because Prue… Prue was family! Real, honest to Goddess, family. She was Phoebe's daughter, Cole's daughter—oh my Goddess, what did this mean about Phoebe's soul?
She had been pregnant! Nausea made her vision swim. Phoebe had been pregnant when she had been taken into the Underworld! She watched Leo shake hands with Dr. Anderson, saw herself do the same. But she heard nothing, felt nothing but the weight of Prue in her arms. The sudden urge to protect her was now overwhelming—if before it had consumed her, now it literally inflamed her.
Dear Goddess, they had been protecting her from the Source for all the wrong reasons! And the Elders, they hadn't said anything! They didn't know? How could they not know? How could they not tell them?
She and Leo walked down the corridor; Leo's voice a comforting noise in the back of her mind. So many things she needed to do, so many things she needed to say! She handed Prue to Leo as they arrived at the secretary's desk, reaching for her purse to pay for the consult. Why was she taking so long? Why wasn't she rushing home, demanding Leo orb the three of them back to the manor instead of staying here, doing things that seemed so trivial and ordinary in light of the recent events?
The small part of her brain that was still the rational, logical businesswoman answered: Because you are going to take this slow. And you're going to do it right.
She felt a presence to her left, and turned to find Amanda – Damon's mom, and where the hell was Damon anyway? She hadn't seen him in all the time they had been waiting, and dear Goddess, did it really matter? – standing a few inches behind her.
"How did it go?"
Amanda's voice was loud and shrilly, but Piper didn't really register it. She just shrugged, her hands trying to open a pen to write the check and mumbled her answer: "Fine, I guess. Just—just fine."
Piper looked down to her shaking, suddenly very small hands. To her right, she heard Prue coo and she smiled. Her niece, her beautiful baby niece…
"I'm really sorry, Piper."
The young witch looked up. She wasn't sure she had heard right: a baby had begun crying its eyes off in the back of the room, and the loudspeakers were beginning to blare right in her ears and her head was spinning, and she only managed to ask 'For what?' before her knees collapsed from under her and she went down.
The last thing she saw was Amanda's hand glittering with green dust, the same kind that was now going up her nose.
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Roaring in anger, the Source vanquished the dark priestess kneeling before him. The woman went up in a ball of fire, lighting up the far corners of the room, but the Source didn't even spare her a glance.
What had gone wrong? His plan was perfect! The Halliwells were unaware of their sister's fate—they believed her to be well and truly dead. How had they managed to learn of his plans?
Anger rolled off of him in waves, making the edges of his black robe billow about. Hints of red and white skin peeked through, but no one was stupid enough to be in his presence, not without being requested first. So there was no one to see it, and that was exactly the way the Source wanted it to be. There were many reasons why he wore the heavy cloak wherever he went, the least of which was the protection spell he had cast upon it hundreds of years ago.
Oh yes, his cloak was there to conceal other things, unspeakable things, things the Underworld would kill to learn. But he had taken good care of that, hadn't he? Making sure everyone who knew his secret was dead and buried, vanquished by his own hand when he was but a youngling. Yes, there was no one who knew his secret now, and the Source liked it that way.
His mother had been the first one to realize her half-breed son was not completely demonic. And she had taken great pleasure in trying to burn the human out of him… much like the Source himself had done hundreds of years later with Belthazor. But in neither case had the purging worked, the human side of them too ingrained to be removed without killing them completely. He bore the scars of that ceremony underneath his cloak, rivulets of badly healed skin snaking all across his midsection. Belthazor had been much luckier: be it fate or chance, the half-breed's healing abilities had erased most of the scars away, while he, leader of the Underworld had been left a torn, disfigured puppet… a wicked smile curled the Source's lips. He had made his mother pay for that, he remembered, oh yes he had. In fact, it gave a whole new meaning to that mortal saying, about having your mother's eyes…
At least his pathetic human father had not given him the worst of curses: a soul. That was the only thing the Source was grateful for, if there was room for such a feeling in his blackened heart. As it was, he didn't really care if he had a soul or not: had he been damned with one, he would have had it removed eons ago.
Which brought him to his present predicament… he had been following Phax's progress closely. After teaching her the basics, after making sure his blood in her veins was not driving her insane – not an uncommon effect when the Blood Link was established – he had transferred the teaching duties to Jhiera. It was quite entertaining to watch the two of them fight: Jhiera was quite a skillful warrior, wise in the ways of martial arts and magic, and he could think of no better teacher for his newly christened assassin. He also knew Jhiera absolutely hated Phax. And he wanted it that way… he knew from firsthand experience what a powerful force hatred was, and it would drive Jhiera to the edge of her skills, thus making Phax the best warrior she could be.
There had been something he hadn't seen coming, though. A tiny glitch in his otherwise perfect plan… that, no matter how much of himself was inside Phax, no matter how many scars he branded her with, she was always, first and foremost, human. And humans, by definition, had souls.
Fury escalated within him rapidly, and he wished he could bring back to life the priestess he had just killed: the foolish woman had been unable to eradicate Phax's soul as he had ordered, thus uncovering the Halliwells latest ploy.
Those children, those ridiculous, disgusting children had come up with a way to keep him from reaching Phax's soul! It was his, by right, for the taking—and they were keeping him from it! How, he still did not know… upon Phax's arrival into the Underworld, the first thing the Source had done was cast a cloaking spell upon her. That way, no summoning spell would be able to call her away from him. It was standard procedure for prisoners; after all, when your enemies could call them back at will, it was pretty much a given!
But now, somehow, the Halliwells had empowered that spell, wrapped tighter bindings around it until not even he could reach it. And how could he destroy it, if he couldn't touch it in the first place?
Rays of electricity erupted from his fingertips, burning the rock walls around him. Damn them, damn them all to hell! How was he supposed to get rid of Phax's last remaining link to the mortal world? How would she become his perfect assassin, if she couldn't even get past that pesky soul of hers? He had been watching her when she had hesitated, in the fight today with Jhiera. She had been standing above her, ready to deliver the last blow—and she had stopped. It was that soul at work, that last speck of good in her, preventing her from fully embracing evil.
He would have to keep looking, find a way to get around the witches' spell. Just as they had found a way around his, he would study this new turn of events and figure a way out.
He had been waiting for this for generations. He would spare a few more weeks.
.
"Mr. Wyatt!"
Leo heard his name, and before he even began to turn to look behind him, he knew something was terribly, horribly wrong. Someone rushed right past him, almost knocking him down in the process, and as he held on to the wall for support, he saw it. Saw her.
"Piper!"
Her name came out dripping in fear. His beautiful, beautiful wife was on the floor, her face slack and her eyes closed and she wasn't moving. A nurse was taking her pulse and making sure she was still breathing, and for all the years of doctor training and warfare Leo had endured, as he watched Piper be moved about, he had absolutely no idea what to do.
In his arms, Prue began bawling, adding her voice to the ruckus of the waiting room. People were screaming, babies were crying, and the loudspeakers – that usually allowed soft, serene music to waft down to the patients – were blaring music so loud and hard it made his ears hurt. He just stood there for what seemed like an eternity, watching the nurse prop Piper's head up on a pillow, and then, as his wife's hand fell to her side, limp and unresponsive, something in him snapped.
He moved to her like lightning, and he barely registered the gentle, compassionate hands offering to take Prue from him as he knelt down besides Piper's still form. He had just handed the baby over and fell by Piper's side. His fingers flew to her chest, trying to find her heart – if he could only find her heart, feel it beating, then it would be all right .The nurse tried to push his hands away, claiming he should let her breathe, come back to it on her own, but Leo didn't even grace her with a look.
Her heart, he needed to find her heart… his fingers scratched at the purple shirt she was wearing, pushing the soft fabric aside and then—there it was! Steady and strong, nothing major then, and all sound came rushing back. He heard the nurse say something about vapors and malnourishment, and heat waves and fainting spells, and a distant, ironic part of him wondered if the nurse knew how ridiculous that last statement sounded when Piper was concerned. Because she was his witch, his strong, beautiful witch and fainting spells were not part of her repertoire, were they?
Why was he thinking such things? Letting a little bit of his magic flow through his hand, letting it sink into Piper's chest, he willed her to wake up. Nobody noticed the faint glowing outline of his hand amidst the chaos the waiting room had turned into. And even though Leo could feel – and see – that most of the mothers and nurses and secretaries had gathered around him like gawking spectators of some sick, twisted accident, he realized he didn't even care if anyone had.
Piper woke with a start, the burst of healing magic forcing her consciousness to return with sudden force. The nurse – C. Evans, Leo noted, reading her nametag – pushed Piper back down, whispering soothing, calming words to her. Piper was having none of it. Her arms flailed about and she tried to rise time and time again, until her strength seemed to leave her and she remained down, her eyes wide and unblinking as they turned this way and that, desperately seeking something. They found it as they met Leo's worried pupils. Before he could even speak, tell her everything was all right, Piper's right hand found his arm and latched on hard. He winced as her fingernails dug into his skin even through the flannel of his shirt, but as he tried to slowly extricate himself from her hold, he came to realize her grip on him was too strong.
"Prue", Piper whispered hoarsely, and then dissolved into a coughing fit that seemed to exhaust her even further. Nurse Evans was screaming for someone to get a gurney, but all Leo could see were Piper's dilated pupils and feel her fingers squeezing the life out of him.
"She's just fine, honey. Don't you worry", he began, brushing a hand across her forehead, "just stay still, ok?"
Piper shook her head vehemently, so much so that something fell from her long hair and towards the floor. Nobody else seemed to notice it – with everyone voicing their opinions on what could've caused a perfectly healthy young woman to collapse like that – but Leo did, and it sent off the first warning signals in his head.
"Prue", Piper repeated, this time in a steadier voice. Leo reached across her and scooped up the glittering particles that had fallen from her long tresses, noticing there were several still attached to her face and hair. It looked like glitter—his fingers stung as they came into contact with it, and he knew what they were. And paled at the thought.
Piper was looking at him with pleading, desperate eyes, and Leo suddenly understood why she couldn't really move. She was paralyzed, most of her upper motor functions shot to hell by this green powder that someone had thrown on her.
"Prue", Piper said for the third time, and someone was pushing Leo back as they brought a gurney in and began pulling Piper up on it. "Amanda!" Piper's last shout was loud enough to reach Leo from across the group of people, and he understood.
Where was Amanda? He remembered handing Prue to her, right after seeing Piper on the floor… where was she?
A quick scan of the room revealed neither the baby nor the woman were in sight. Fear crept up Leo's spine. How could he have been so stupid? He had played right into the woman's plans! She had done all of this, blowing the dust on Piper, being right beside him as he went down to tend to his wife, politely offering to take Prue from him—goddamnit, he was such a fool!
Heart racing, he hesitated for a split second, watching the nurses and paramedics begin to roll Piper out the door… but then the knowledge that Piper was going to be fine – albeit a little groggy for the next few days – made up his mind. Amanda had been human, that much he knew. He would've felt her if she had been something else, and so would have Prue… that meant she would have to rely on human locomotion to escape. And he knew just how to find her…
Concentrating on Prue's signature had always been easy: somehow, she resonated in his witch radar a lot like the sisters did. And now, it took him less than a heartbeat to focus inward and to sense her. There, she was moving down to the parking lot!
Without another thought, he made his way to the hallway, and after making sure no one was looking, orbed down to the underground parking lots. He reappeared right into Amanda's path, and the woman cried out in surprised as he materialized out of thin air.
"Give her back", he said, and was surprised to hear himself. Was that his voice?
Amanda said nothing, and simply clutched Prue harder to her breast. The baby was strangely silent, her wide, blue eyes focusing on Leo and pleading quietly for him to rescue her. Whatever device or spell Amanda was using to block Prue's shimmer, it was working, and that worried Leo to no end.
"You don't understand, I have to—"
His hand rose, silencing her. He didn't need her explanations. He knew what was going on… the Source had realized demonic kidnappers weren't really working out, so he had retorted to human ones. After all, how many babies disappeared in San Francisco any given day? What would an extra missing child do?
Anger burned within his chest, that this woman, this mother – was Damon real? Or had he just been a ploy, used to lure them in, let them relax around her so she could steal Prue? – would go to such extremes. Poison his wife, kidnap an innocent little girl… it was disgusting!
"Just give her back", he repeated, expanding his senses to detect any threats nearby. Surprisingly, there were none. No demonic trail marks, no evil magic in the air… was this an isolated event? Was this some surprising, terrible coincidence? No, it couldn't be. Amanda had Palsy Powder on her, which meant someone with magical connections had given it to her. And adding Prue to the equation, well, it wasn't really hard to say who was responsible, right?
That the Source would stoop as low as this should not have surprised him as much. But it did.
"Please, Leo, please. I have to, or they'll hurt Damon!"
Amanda's eyes were impossibly wide, brimming with such fear that they reminded him of Piper's. He knew that if he listened just hard enough, he would be able to hear Amanda's rapidly beating heart—looking at her now, Leo could see things he should've noticed the first time he talked to her. The shaking of her limbs, the thin sheen of sweat upon her upper lip, the heavy breathing and considerable tremors… either this woman was suffering from withdrawal symptoms, or was on the verge of a mental – and physical – breakdown. Seeing as there were no needle marks on her arms, or any other indication of drug abuse, Leo was betting that Amanda was under some serious pressure. Which, for some reason, appealed to his sense of compassion and prompted him to change his tone of voice. It became lower, calmer; steadier… it was the whitelighter that was speaking now.
"Amanda, listen to me. You don't have to do this. We can help you. Just, just give me Prue back."
The woman shook her head, taking a hesitant step back. Around them, the atmosphere of the parking lot was loaded with tension. The smells of gasoline and stagnant air were heady, making Leo's vision swim, but he pushed on forward, knowing that there was no way he was leaving this place with getting Prue back.
"Please, Amanda. You have to understand: whoever gave you that powder is not good. They want Prue and I can't let them have her."
Something he said struck home. Amanda tilted her head to the side, and her voice came to him in waves, the shadows of the parking lot lengthening as a light to their left gave out. "Is—is Piper going to be all right? They said—they told me it would just make her dizzy, but I think I used too much and she went down and I didn't know what to do, and then everyone was screaming and the music was so loud and I just—I just took her and ran."
Leo nodded. It was always good to agree with the potentially crazy. He moved a little closer to Amanda, stretching out his hand. The woman didn't move away, but she did turn just the tiniest bit, almost as protecting herself from an attack. He paused, made soothing noises like you would to calm a wounded animal, and whispered: "She is going to be fine. It's not lethal, the Palsy Dust." He knew it wasn't: he had seen its effects before. "Amanda, look at her. Look at Prue."
The blonde woman did, looking down at Prue, who despite her silence had tears running down her pudgy cheeks. "She is very scared, Amanda", Leo said, repeating her name constantly, knowing it was a good way to keep her anchored to him, to keep her from bolting the moment he made any sudden moves, "She doesn't understand what is going on. Just give her to me, and we can work this out."
Amanda shook her head again, set on her beliefs. "I can't. Not until—not until Damon is all right."
Horror infused Leo's mind. Those bastards—taking an innocent child to force its mother to kidnap another one… it was almost too convoluted to be the Source's plan. But then again, he was the Lord of the Underworld, wasn't he? And he was desperate to get Prue, one way or another… would something as small as blackmail really even register on the Source's board? Probably not.
"We can help you, help Damon. You don't have to do this."
Confusion flashed across Amanda's face. "Help Damon? You were the ones who took him!"
Leo paused, his hand falling a few inches as he took in Amanda's words. "We? No, Amanda, that's impossible. We're the good guys—it's demons the ones who took Damon from you. And we can help you get him back, if you trust us."
Sharp, loud laughter followed. Leo sought Amanda's eyes, tried to find them in the darkness of the parking lot, but failed to do so. The woman had moved back into the shadows, and Leo knew that every moment that went by with Prue in her grasp, was an open window for the demons to come in and sweep them both away. Come to think, why hadn't they already? It was all there—Amanda would be powerless to stop them, and Prue's shimmer was blocked; what were they waiting for? He knew better than to think his mere presence would scare the bounty hunters away: if anything, it would've been an incentive! He had no active powers to speak of, and it fit the demonic twisted brain to snatch Prue right out from under their noses…
"Help me get him back?" Amanda hissed, her face contorting in wrath. Even in the dim lighting of the parking lot, Leo could see how her fingers tightened upon Prue's clothes, and the baby squirmed uncomfortably but otherwise, made no noise. What had Amanda done to her?
"You took him from his bed, and you expect me to believe you now?"
There was no way Amanda was faking this: her anger was too real, her fear too strong. Demons had taken Damon from her, kidnapped him during the night and forced her to do the same to someone else. He shook his head, trying to correct her: "No, Amanda, we didn't. Demons did. It's what they do. And now they are using you to cause more pain!"
A door opened behind them, and steps began approaching. The noise echoed around them, drawing closer and closer, and Leo pleaded one more time: "Please!" Something in his voice must've reached Amanda, because she seemed to pause in mid-step. The footsteps turned away from them, walking away and making Leo breathe a little easier. How was he going to explain all of this?
"You really love her, don't you?"
As she spoke, Amanda took three cautious steps towards him. Leo could only nod, so many things rushing to the front of his mind that it left him speechless. Yes, he loved Prue—who wouldn't? But it was more than that… it was what could happen if Amanda took Prue back to the demons that wanted her. It was the immense fountain of power she possessed, it was the future of the world! But he said nothing. It would only confuse Amanda even further, and now that she seemed to be slowly beginning to trust him, he did not want to shatter that fragile link.
"You will really help me get Damon back?"
Leo nodded again. At this point, he would've agreed to do anything the woman asked, but as things stood, rescuing her son from evil sounded like a fair trade. Seeing that Amanda needed a little extra reassurance, he continued aloud: "We will. The demons that took him will loathe the day they came to your home."
Again that flash of confusion. But Amanda was approaching him now, and as she tentatively handed Prue over to him, she asked: "Demons? No, you've got it all wrong. It wasn't demons who took my Damon… they were angels."
The young whitelighter smiled. Not an uncommon mistake, that was: mortals were so surprised to see people materializing out of thin air that they usually confused orbing with shimmering—after all, magic is magic, right? And people would rather think angels are visiting them than the darkest forces of Hell. Holding Prue close, checking her for injuries and incredibly relieved to hear her bellow like the world was coming to an end, he said: "I am an angel, Amanda. You saw me come in—all swirling lights and blue sparks?" He borrowed Paige's description of their orbing abilities without shame: it was a pretty accurate description, in the end. "Demons don't do that."
Amanda hugged herself, face still tight with angst. "I know, Leo. That's how I know they were angels: when they took Damon from me, they came in glittering light and blue orbs."
Leo could not even begin to describe the horror that filled him at Amanda's words.
.
Tbc...