Binding Ties

A/N: Back with Prue/Cole. Quotes in this chapter come from episodes 1x03, “Thank You for Not Morphing”, 1x16, “Which Prue is It, Anyway?”, and 2x09, “Ms. Hellfire”. Most of this chapter is italicized: first dreams, then a flashback.

Prue couldn’t have stopped the dreams if she’d wanted to. Memories, images, words all jumbled together. She wasn’t sure where one dream ended and the next began as she tossed and turned.

Glaring at her father when she’d seen him for the first time since she was a little girl. “I’m nothing like you. I would never abandon my responsibilities to my family.”

Phoebe, stone faced in betrayal. “You hypocrite.”

Piper staring in disbelief at her clone in the kitchen at Quake. “What has gotten into you? Who has gotten into you? Because you’re nothing like the real Prue.”

“Actually, I’m exactly like the real Prue. Just a side that doesn’t get to come out and play enough.”

Phoebe again, with angry tears in her eyes. “I looked up to you. How could you do this to me?”

Piper trying to talk her out of impersonating Ms. Hellfire. “Is it just me, or are you a little too eager to play this role?”

And Phoebe. “I taught you how to French kiss.” Her eyes are desperate, like they were on the rooftop that night. How close had she been to killing them?

That thought jolted her awake, and the first thing she felt were Cole’s arms around her. She remembered the previous night, and the wave of coolness washed over her. Prue laid her head down again. Cole, behind her, stirred awake. “Prue?”

“It’s nothing,” she muttered, twisting a little in his arms.

“You’ve been squirming around like an eel,” he replied. “That doesn’t sound like ‘nothing.’ And trust me, it doesn’t feel like nothing, either.” He tried to keep a straight face when he said that, but Prue narrowed her eyes anyway. After those dreams, she didn’t want to be reminded of the effect she might have on him. “All I meant,” he added, loosening his hold around her a little, “is that if you want to talk about it, I am here.”

“You? You want to listen to me talk about my dreams.” She didn’t actually laugh, but the slight derisive shake of her head was clear enough.

“If it will help you, and therefore me, sleep in peace, then yes, I do.”

Prue sighed. She was silent for a few moments, trying to decide where to begin. “I hear them,” she finally said. “Piper and Phoebe, calling out to me. Like they’re standing in judgment.” Prue blinked, and closed her mouth, surprised that she had revealed that much.

Cole nodded, unsurprised. “It’s normal for mortals or witches who’ve turned to focus on what they imagine the reactions of those closest to them would be. But in your case,” he brought a hand up and cupped her cheek, “in our case, they’ve already reacted. They mourned us, they buried you, and now they’re moving on.”

Prue closed her eyes for a moment. When she looked at him again, Cole could see the edge of fear in them. “It still doesn’t make up for it. What they would say if they knew what was happening to me?”

“A better question, I think, is why their opinions should matter to you so much,” he responded silkily. “You are dead to them, Prue. Just like I am. And did their opinions even matter to you this much before?

The knee-jerk loyal retort turned sour in her mouth. The feeling of coolness came over her again, and after a moment she shook her head at him. “No, they didn’t.”

“So,” he continued, letting his thumb caress her face, “try not to think about what you gave up. Because you already did give it up. Think about what you’re gaining.” Cole placed his other hand on her abdomen. Prue raised her eyebrows at him, and he bit back a secret smile when he saw her bravado returning. She looked at him steadily for a few moments before she spoke.

“Kind of sure of yourself, don’t you think? I mean, I knew demons were arrogant, but really, Cole. I don’t think even you are that powerful.”

“Well,” he said, dropping his hands from her body and glancing over her shoulder at a point on the bedroom’s far wall, “Much as I’d like to keep you here and prove you wrong, it’s later than either of us thought. And we have a very important meeting to attend.”

Prue’s eyes narrowed again. “What meeting?”

Cole was already half way off the bed before he answered. “Our audience with the Source.”

She could have sworn she caught a glimpse of his hands shaking as they dressed and headed out into the passageway.

When they were ushered into the large chamber that Cole had whispered to her was the Source’s inner sanctum, Prue didn’t see the hooded figure she’d seen before she lost consciousness. Instead she saw a bald, skull-white demon, with markings on the one fully formed side of its face. He stood on a raised dais on the far side of the chamber. Seconds after they entered, he turned his black marble eyes on them in a swish of thick robes.

Prue involuntarily took a step backward. The Source laughed. “So you do recognize me in my true form, witch. With the correct response, as well. Very good. Belthazor may finally be living up to his once impressive reputation.” Cole coughed slightly. The Source turned his eyes toward him. “I assume, Belthazor, that you have bedded the witch?”

Prue almost stepped forward again, but Cole reached out and grabbed her arm. In an even voice he answered, “Yes, my lord.”

The Source eyed Prue with renewed interest. His glaze settled for a moment on her abdomen, before it rose to her chest and finally to her face, where it became a sneer. She willed herself to meet his appraisal unflinchingly. But she had to bite her lip hard in order to keep still when he continued, “Well, it seems your loins have found their true mark and actually proved useful in the process, wouldn’t you say, Belthazor?”

Cole’s response was automatic and humble. “Yes, my lord.” Prue prepared to be disgusted at both of them all over again, until she felt Cole squeeze lightly on her arm.

The Source smiled his Cheshire smile, and turned once more to Prue. “Well, witch. You should be honored, and grateful. I gave you not only your life, but the opportunity of several lifetimes. The opportunity to bear the most powerful being magic will ever know. You are grateful, are you not?” The glint of challenge shown in those black marble eyes.

Only the pressure of Cole’s hand on her arm kept her from leaping at the Source and spitting in his face. She set her jaw as Cole whispered against her ear, “He wants you to bow.” She started to retort sotto voce when she felt the coolness seep into her veins. Slowly, never taking her eyes off the Source, Prue pulled away from Cole’s grasp and bent at the waist toward the dais.

“Thank you, my lord,” she murmured, rising again. The Source’s smile deepened. He turned and beckoned towards the entrance to his chamber. “Seer!” he called. A stately looking demon entered. She was dressed in red robes, and her ornate gold earrings dangled against her rich brown skin. She looked Prue over with curiosity and much the same appraisal the Source had before turning to her master.

“Seer,” the Source addressed the demon, “Here is a Charmed One, just as you foresaw. One filled with demonic seed,” his eyes darted briefly to Cole, who coughed again, “just as you foresaw. Now, Seer, I command that you take this witch into your lair and determine for me whether the prophecy has already come to pass.”

The Seer bowed to the Source. “Of course, my lord.” She stepped toward Prue and took her hand. “Come with me.” Cole watched the Seer lead her out of the chamber.

The Source’s sneering voice drew his attention back to the situation at hand. “Not growing weak again are you? Remember what I know, Belthazor.”

Cole closed his eyes, barely whispering another “Yes, my lord.” He remembered that the Source knew about his relationship with Phoebe, all right. The thought haunted his dreams, and so did the memory of the Source’s threat.

He had been with members of the Brotherhood in one of their chambers, completing yet another ritual to banish Phoebe from his heart. The circle of chanting demons fell silent when Raynor entered and spoke to him. “The Source wants to see you, Belthazor.”

He stood tall in the Source’s presence, until the ruler of the Underworld said, “I know about you and the witch.”

Cole had hurried to explain, pointing out what Raynor had done, and what Phoebe thought of him now. The Source became deadly quiet, and then said, “Well, Belthazor, in that case you should have no objection,” he drew out the word mockingly, “to the assignment I wish to give you now.”

Nodding almost too eagerly, he replied, “Anything, my lord. Simply name the target.”

The Source’s sneer grew feral as he answered, “Prudence Halliwell.”

Cole struggled to hear the details of Phoebe’s trip to the Underworld, how Prue had come after her before going to the Source, and the rest over the pounding rush of blood in his ears. Only after he heard the name of his direct superior and mentor mentioned did he manage to truly listen to the Source’s words.

“When I wondered how our side could exploit magic’s exposure and the dire position of the Charmed Ones, Raynor reminded me of you. This appears to be the perfect opportunity to co-opt the prophecy of the twice-blessed child. Your humanity makes you the ideal demon to father the child, the Seer tells me. And I have just been handed the Charmed One on a silver platter.”

Cole tried to keep his voice nonchalant when he asked, “And what of her sisters, my lord?”

The Source pressed his lips together. “All back on the surface, and once I order Tempus reset time, none the wiser. The Power of Three may yet re-form, for my oracle tells me of another Halliwell sister. I plan to allow them this, Belthazor, once you agree to your assignment. If you do not, I may have to lure your witch back to the Underworld and put her in her sister’s place.”

“No,” Cole said. “That-that won’t be necessary. I accept, my lord. Please tell me of the prophecy, and this mysterious sister.”

Which the Source promptly did, never losing his feral smile. Hearing his boss describe the particulars, and how the mother-to-be would have to bear the weight of the child’s powers, Cole tried to believe he’d made the right choice.

Alone in his master’s presence again, Cole attempted to rediscover that logical certainty. It was harder now. The Source’s stare bored into him. He kept his own eyes fixed on the ground.

Moments later, the Seer returned with Prue. “My lord,” she said to the Source, “I fear your hopes are for now in vain. The prophecy has yet to come to pass.”

The Source rounded on Cole. “You and your witch are dismissed, Belthazor.”

Prue tugged at his arm this time. She shot an annoyed look at the Seer as she and Cole exited the chamber. Cole was still focused on the Source’s words and his own memories, but he couldn’t completely fail to notice how agitated she was. He waited until they had return to their suite and sat down on their sofas before raising the issue.

“What was going on there between you and the Seer?”

Prue rolled her eyes. “I’m still trying to figure out what’s going on with her, but clearly she doesn’t like me. Or witches in general, obviously.”

Cole made a neutral noise. She went on, “But all she did was get a vision off of my scar. And I know she did, because she reacted to it just like Phoebe does. She muttered something about ‘the child of the winter fire.’ Then she looked right at me and said, ‘He is come.’”

He blinked. “You’re saying that-”

She gave a nervous laugh before shaking her head in wonder. “I’m saying that first of all, the Seer lied to the Source’s….face. If you can call it a face. Why would she do that? What game is she trying to play?”

“Prue.” Cole was now impatient for her to just say it.

She sighed slightly and looked at him. “I’m also telling you that I’m pregnant.”