Disclaimer: Nope nada, zip, zilch, happy? Now go

I know, I know, I know, I know, please don't scream at me, I'm ill as it is.

The next one won't be as short, or take as long, I just want to get the whole mass-reunion right.

Chapter 7

The attic, for all its fineries, was surprisingly bland. More so, Phoebe thought, as she waited for her sister to finish. They were running out of ideas, with no idea how to get to the future without the Elders help, and seeing as it was them that sent their nephew back to a war-zone where he was wanted by a tyrant...

Both sisters tried very hard not to think of the cruel man as being one of the same that now sat in a baby chair, happily being fed by his mother as he wiggled his legs beneath the small pull away table. Banging his fists against the white surface to show his affection for the baby mush the rest of the Halliwell's cringed at. Phoebe looked back over at her younger sister Paige, as she bent over and scribbled notes onto various pieces of paper, and Phoebe absently flicked through the Book of Shadows, though they had long read through any page that could be of help. Before realizing they weren't any.

"Aha!" Paige cried, muffled by the pen top still in her mouth, which she quickly removed, embarrassed and showed her sister the spell. Phoebe looked down at the scrawled words on the scrap piece of paper with some trepidation, and eyed her sister curiously, wondering why it had taken her so long to come up with this. To add emphasis to her lack of impressed emotions, she read them out aloud, hoping it would be enough for Paige to notice her forte was not in spell writing. Not stopping when Paige herself joined in.

"Chris is lost
Through time and space
Help us find him
Then return us all back to this day and place."

Phoebe stared at her with a quirked eyebrow, "That has gotta be the worst spell I have ever-." A blue light in the shape of a triquetra illuminated the wall and Phoebe stopped. "No way." She muttered under her breath while Paige beamed.

"You were saying?" She said, before stepping through. For a moment, Phoebe looked back towards the attic door, wondering if she should at least leave a note, but then she recalled the fights, the betrayal, and merely pulled the jacket closer around her and stepped through.

To her shock, amazement, and sheer relief, her worst fear that the jacket would somehow get lost in the whirlwind of time was found to have no basis as she still clutched is just as tightly as she had in the past.

But, she noted, with even more happiness and relief, she had no need for it. Her hair was brown, and short, while she still wore her scarf from that morning and pink top and trousers.

"Oh sweet mother of God, I'm me!"

"Yeah, that's great, Pheebs." Paige muttered, having noticed her sister's appearance and pushing it to the back of her mind as she looked around her. "Notice anything?"

"Like what?"

"Uh, like it was barely mid-day when we left, and now it's pitch black night?"

"So much for your great spell," She ignored the glare. "How many hours do you think we were off?"

"Hours, well I'd say its more like a few days! Not to mention the whole twenty years."

"Yes okay, I get it, no need to take that tone..." And then she took a moment to look around her. To take in the attic and it's strangely clinical look. Clean but cold, set out, every item posed carefully. They barely had a chance to gape before a demon shimmered in, human in appearance, but clearly possessing a brute strength neither which had.

Phoebe let out a cry as she ducked from an energy ball and her sister quickly called it toward her and shot it back at the demon in question. He saw the orbs engulf his weapon and regarded it with a confused gaze. They had destroyed all of the Whitelighters, hadn't they? But his query was short lived as the energy ball did its work and he burst into flames, crumbling into dust.

"I think we should leave." Paige said, holding out a hand for her older sister to take, about to orb away when Phoebe stopped her with her eyes. "What is it?" Paige asked quickly and Phoebe pursed her lips, looking around her. "That demon knew we were here, he knew."

"Maybe he got lucky?"

"Oh please, Paige, there must be some kind of magical alarm. We can't risk orbing."

"So what do you suggest?"

"Front door?"

He woke up with a groan, as he tried to lift his heavy head off of the hard surface. To say he was groggy was an understatement as memories of capture rushed back to him, that was then followed by the distinct tilting of his vision as he dared crack open an eyelid and survey the situation he was now knee-deep in.

The situation that made him cringe, and swear beneath his breath all at once. The kind that made fear clutch at his heart as he looked ahead of him at the wall. He looked behind him, at the wall, and to the sides, more walls. He was boxed in like an animal. With barely enough room to move his legs. He was curled into a ball, lying on his side, no doubt thanks to Aruth as he jammed the unconscious body into the stow-away area.

The fire-ball thrown at him had knocked him out after the first few spasms of agony, and he had no idea where he was.

His neck was cracking each time he moved, the awkward angle making his bones ache. His hands were bound so tightly that he could no longer feel them, only the chafing, the burning of the thick rope biting into his wrists. His feet were tied in the same fashion and he noted with a grunt of annoyance, that his mouth was gagged by a stinking rag, tied tightly and pinching against his cheeks. He tried to pull at his bonds, but only served to make his muscles cramp awkwardly. He pulled at his wrists and as his shoulders heaved forward, he inhaled the stench of the gag and fought the urge to puke.

It would do him no good to choke on his own sick and he battled the nausea, focusing instead on pulling his hands free first. He jerked forward too quickly and his forearms hit back and he screamed through the gag, ignoring any nausea as stray pieces of dirty material fell onto his tongue. His back was burning, literally, and he could feel the dampness of his shirt, no doubt bright red.

This was not good, not good at all.

He thought to himself, still pulling at his ever resistant bonds when suddenly the top of his box, crate, opened and light shone in, assaulting his eyes, making him squint, and try to refocus, as strong burly arms grabbed him, yanking him harshly, and throwing him onto the ground. For a second Chris breathed in cleaner air, no longer filtered through wood, but then his breathing became more ragged as his slow body let the pain catch up with him.

The demon, not Aruth himself but one of his followers, with red skin and tattoos burnt into his skin, had pulled hard enough on Chris' arm to loosen it from its socket, and as he was thrown harshly to the floor, it had completely dislocated. The sound was horrifying, but it scared Chris more when the agony washed over him, and once again the filthy gag muffled the cry he could not stop. He was pulled onto his feet suddenly, but in his weakened state was unable to keep upright and quickly began to fall. Rather than rescue Chris, the demon waited for him to hit the ground for the second time, effectively jarring his shoulder and silencing him into unconsciousness as he was dragged away.

"He's still out?" Aruth asked curiously, as the demon dropped the arm he had used to rake Chris along. The same arm, coincidentally, that to Aruth's trained eyes, was injured. He raised his eyebrow, and stepped forward, hissing, "You weren't supposed to hurt him." But the demon only shrugged in response. "It was an accident."

Aruth scoffed, aware that seldom were the acts of demon's under Wyatt's power accident's. They couldn't afford them, they feared the consequences accidents would bring.

"Is Lord Wyatt on the way, sir?"

For a moment Aruth remembered the little manners demons of the past held, and granted any demon's who didn't show the polite use of 'sir's' were promptly taught a lesson never to be forgotten, it still made him wary, as though a great foreboding was hanging over his head.

"Yes," A voice from the doorway. Aruth span around, while his demonic helper, a lesser demon of course, flew to the floor, bowing at the Master of the Underworld, and over, as he stood so near.

"Lord Wyatt, what an honour-."

His mumblings were cut off as the great muscular form stepped closer to the crouching figure, as Aruth watched from a distance. Still standing. Having earned enough unwanted respect to not need to show it in groveling.

The blonde tyrant, once thought to be the world's saviour, stood, letting intimidation win as his boots were all that could be seen. His black thick boots. All the better to kick you with. He looked back at Chris for a moment, nothing more than a crumpled heap on the ground, his legs curled beneath him, one arm doing the same while the other jutted out at an angle, and his face was contorted with pain.

"Did you hurt him?" The cold unfeeling man asked, his voice echoing slightly with his stature and need to bellow all he spoke. Aruth rolled his eyes behind Wyatt, well aware that his "Master" had heard his own question moments before. The demon began spluttering excuses, but Wyatt simply muttered under his breath words of demon predictability and unreliability, waved his hand dramatically, too much so, and the demon was no more than a pile of ash on the ground.

The fact that her older, seemingly more perceptive sister had suggested the obvious made Paige cringe as she followed the careful footsteps of the empath in front of her. They made their way through the house carefully, quietly, and above all, quickly, taking it upon themselves to run like hell after picking the door open—no longer possessing a key that would work.

"Ok so you're home, your brother is out to get you and you have no idea how much you've changed. Where do you go?" Phoebe said aloud to her sister, as they walked the dilapidated streets of San Fransisco, keeping alert as they strayed in the dark.

"Somewhere safe, somewhere familiar." Paige said absent mindedly, still following her sister.

"Ah, but you don't know familiar, and judging by the looks of things, you don't know safe, either." Phoebe said, knocking down Paige's input.

"Ok then, I'd go to someone I trust."

"And they exist?"

"Sure they do. I mean I came-Chris came to the past, he must have had help." Paige said, changing her tense as it became more confusing.

"But she died, remember?" Phoebe said quietly, referring to the Phoenix.

"You mean Bianca?"

Phoebe nodded and Paige swallowed. They had no idea where Chris might be. This was going to be difficult. Very difficult.

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