Disclaimer: I hear it's being axed, and a very nifty spoiler has caught my attention.

The last chapter was too short for my liking, so this one's a hell of a lot longer. As always, thank you to everyone who reviewed and please do so again!

Chapter 8

He picked himself up off of the ground. So far he had been relatively lucky, if such a thing could be called lucky. Torture, capture, certainly wasn't lucky...

But still having a pulse, a beating heart, and a conscious mind, was.

He had been lucky as a child. He had a family, friends, he'd felt love, and he'd loved in return. And even when the streets crumbled and the world fell, still in the rubble, he found love again, in the most unlikely place, no doubt, but love all the same. He had grown up, and his powers grew with him, every few days using it to his advantage, but still weary of his family's lectures on personal gain, that Wyatt always ignored despite his kid brother's whiny protests. "I'll tell mom and dad."

"Go ahead."

And that had made sure he did nothing of the sort. The fact that his brother didn't care made Chris wonder if it was even worth telling. A part of him, the self-deprecating part that resembled the confidence of a forgotten toy, a broken doll, always wondered if he had said something, if he had done something earlier on, maybe the world wouldn't be so bad.

It was the part of him that doubted everything, and found it so hard to trust others.

It was the part that reminded him of all he had lost.

It was the part of him that made sure enemies stayed clear of the innocent, and it was the part that knew he had to do something. It was the part that ever thought going to the past stood a chance, even if that part of him did question every move he made while there.

It was the part of him, the little boy, that screamed for attention from his parents. Screamed for the pride that shone in their eyes only when regarding the golden child, Wyatt. The pride he longed to witness, and strived to deserve. His body ached furiously, but he was used to pain, this was not his first capture, and it angered him to realize this. How many times would Wyatt drag his ass back here and try to lecture the great things joining him would get? How many times would he let himself be dragged back?

He growled at himself, looking around. He had woken up here, in this cell. And he recalled vaguely being dragged there, but being as he was, he had feigned sleep, or rather, unconsciousness, to get a better bearing of where he was. Instead it merely made for a trickle of intense fear at hearing his brother's voice, underestimating him.

"Are we still on track for the attacks?"

Still up to your old tricks, I see, Chris thought grimly as he kept his breathing shallow.

"Yes sir," An unfamiliar voice broke in, and Chris heard feet shuffling, his brother's boots turning on another.

"Aruth, you have seen him, how is he?"

They were talking about Chris, but the wounded captive knew better than to let himself be fooled. Wyatt was not concerned for his welfare, far from it, oh no, he wanted to know how his powers were working, how his training fared, had he let his guard down at all. How easy would he be to break. And Aruth replied vaguely; "Not good. He is wounded, and I seriously doubt he is much of a threat. The attack is futile, we cannot post-pone."

And Wyatt knew that much, while Chris cringed, unsure of what indeed the attack was, though it had become a habit. Chris had seen first hand that when at least five people in one area where known for having thoughts so un-regal toward the Lord of the Underworld, the entire place was attacked. First in the night, as warnings, but Chris supposed that much had already happened, then the main attack would include a visit from Wyatt himself. Intimidation tactic that worked like a charm. Shuffling filled his ears once more as he was left.

Since then he had managed to work out some, all be it little, information. The number of guards there were dwindling and he knew for a fact the one outside the door at this very moment was a young man, a Witch, and he had been guarding without stop for rest, or food, for almost a day since he had truly woken up. And Chris knew that meant his powers would be sluggish, a perfect chance for escape. He took a deep breath, aware that the Witch could most likely sense if he was lying and decided to use an old trick of his, glad that his legs were no longer bound, though something told him, it was not Wyatt who had allowed such a thing.

If they could sense pain, then he would have to make it believable, and he knew Wyatt didn't want him dead before he had the chance to play. He maneuvered his bound wrists at first. He had been working on them for some time, using small cracks of rock in the walls to help saw through the rope, and it was fraying quite well. As soon as he felt them come close, he flung his arms toward his back, bracing himself, and steeling himself not to stop the cry of pain. It had to be real, it had to hurt.

His wrists slammed into the festering wound on his back, his knuckles drove into his skin, and were coated with the slowing liquid still leaving him. He gritted his teeth at first before remembering to let out a low cry that steadily got louder. He clutched his eyes closed, and for a fleeting moment he feared it had all been in vain, when the door creaked open and in rushed the Witch. He was young, and when Chris opened his eyes, keeping them as glazed as he could, he almost felt bad. There was a small tug, and the rope snapped, the sound, confusing the Witch long enough the Chris to find his throat and push down hard, knocking him out as the breath left the man.

Chris' head fell back against the wall as he panted for a moment before twisting his body so that he was kneeling and taking deep breaths. He stumbled to his feet, his knees clicking awkwardly and his back aching still as he stumbled out of the cell.

It was deserted and it annoyed Chris to think his brother had gone to all of this trouble, and now it was so easy to escape. Maybe it was to prove a point? That Wyatt really didn't care about him anymore, but that made no sense, why get him in the first place? Unless he simply wanted an excuse to give a final order without resurfacing guilt. If Chris was running, after being warned of trying to escape, then execution, and murder were inevitable. It worried Chris that his assessment of the situation could well be confused for anticipation of his own death. And that couldn't be good.

The blood had slowed to a mere trickle as he walked, stumbled, and only once fell through the barren hallways. It was silent save for his shuffling. He took a moment to close his eyes and sense for the enemy and just as he'd suspected, Wyatt wasn't even close. The attack was under way, and there was barely anyone left. Hell, they had left a young naïve Witch in charge of a highly dangerous captive.

Though Wyatt obviously doesn't think so.

Damn him. He always found a way to make Chris feel inferior even when he wasn't in the bloody room, which fueled Chris' attempts to try and leave. Wyatt didn't know that one of his demon buddies, now deceased, had revealed the inside of his domain, nor did he know of the blueprints the resistance feared to have in their possession. He was as naïve as the next guy, which amused Chris. He was walking through a known territory, and he could find his way out, easily. And he did. The doors were just where they were supposed to be, locked of course, barricaded no doubt, but he didn't care if he got caught. He would run for all he cared, and if Wyatt sensed it then Wyatt sensed it, he just needed solace. Hell, he knew the spell, could remember it well enough, he just needed to get to the attic and everything would be fine.

Aruth had told them he was weak, and Wyatt had taken that stupidly, decided not to take up his own power in ensuring no orbing would take place, not to mention it could backfire should Wyatt need to sable in the light arts himself. Chris orbed to the last place he had truly been able to feel happiness in this evil future, and fell back onto the white stone bench in the crumbling gardens as he arrived at his destination. Unaware that he was far from alone.


"Can you sense anything?" Phoebe asked her sister, and Paige gave her a pointed look, "Can you?"

"Okay, okay, good point."

And silence was back as both concentrated.

"Maybe," Paige began, "Maybe it isn't enough, maybe we need to combine our powers."

"We've already tried that and we couldn't sense Chris."

"No, maybe not to sense him, I mean," She gulped, "If Wyatt has him, then he's bound to try and hide him." The words were spoken softly, telling of their fears. Phoebe waited and Paige complied and continued. "So, you can sense feelings, even lingering ones?" Phoebe nodded, "And Chris, he loved Bianca, right?"

"You have got to make your points faster, Paige."

"They were here, in this future, they loved in this future, and if it was that strong, your bound to feel something, right?"

"Ah, well, um."

"We have to try."

Together they sifted through it all, the pain that would have over come her had Paige not been holding her arm, helping her, guiding her as all good Whitelighters do, even those half-Witches, and, aherm, those in need of serious attitude adjustments. Mainly Leo and his Elder buddies.

"Concentrate." Paige muttered, hearing the bitter thoughts of a worried Aunt as clear as day as they held their minds together in a fragile bond. They continued to search, through despair and focusing on any kind of love they had felt, searching for the signature of happiness that was easier to find in a world of hurting. Like a beacon, they felt it, the sadness that it was now lost, and the soft imprints it had left. Phoebe squeezed Paige's arm, and she orbed them there instantly before the feelings were lost.

"Chris?" Incredulous, staring at the desolate man hunched over on the bench.

"Chris!"

"Over here!" They couldn't believe it, finally they had found him, and now only a short distance stood between them. Chris span around, his face incredulous beneath the faint bruising not yet covering his cheeks as it soon would. Leaving his ghostly complexion free for his Aunts to worry over.

"What are you doing here?" He cried, though finding it hard to keep the relief out his voice, beginning to edge toward them, sadly enough throwing caution to the wind.

"We're here to save you, duh, now come on!" Paige answered, before she was suddenly cut off by a harsh grip around her throat.

Two demons now held the two Witches, and try as she might, Paige couldn't orb. Both struggled, and only continued to do so with more fury as they saw even more demon's advancing upon them

"No!" Chris cried, seeing the enemy's advance on his Aunts. Feeling his heart in his throat, and his stomach drop as he saw the danger now so clear. The three demons's not holding captives span around at the call, staring at Chris.

"I'm the one you want, Aruth, leave them." He said bravely, hiding the fear from his shaken voice as he called out to one of his brother's best commanders. The best, and his concern amplified at knowing he was holding his Aunt's lives in his hands. He had brought them to the future and he had orbed, and now they were in danger, and he couldn't let anything happen to them, not even to save his life, unaware that it was his Aunt's combined orbing that pin pointed his location, rather than just his own.

The two demons flanking their Master seemed skeptical and eyed up the two females once more, while the burliest one, Aruth, edged closer to Chris, looking him up and down. "You really should stop this, it's getting tiresome." The demon said in a bored tone as he grabbed Chris by the arm, making a cry emit from the boy as his dislocated shoulder was pulled ruthlessly. The demons only sneered, and Aruth, his face passive still, said, turning to his followers. "Leave them; we have what we came for."

And the two Halliwell sisters could only watch as the three demons shimmered away with their wounded nephew.


Time came to a standstill as they processed what they had seen. Chris was wounded, barely standing, and once again he had put himself in the line of fire to save their lives, and now they were left roaming the future racking their brains for a way to have him returned to them. They had left the gardens, the demonic glares forcing them to, and now they were avoiding anyone and everyone. They needed help, from others, but who could they trust in this god forsaken world?

"Okay, so we know Chris came here, and he's against Wyatt, and it makes sense that other people would be against him too, right?" Phoebe voiced, surprised at how calm she managed to sound.

"Like some kind of revolt?" Paige queried, earning a nod from her sister.

"Yeah, a resistance."

"But we don't know where it would be, we don't know where to start looking."

"No, but come on, Paige, we're Charmed Ones, when has that ever stopped us?" Phoebe asked, smiling somewhat, in a hushed tone. Paige agreed, urging for her sister to continue.

"If I try and sense for Chris, or where Chris has been, and you focus on arriving at a resistance, then maybe we can find it together?"

Paige frowned, but otherwise seemed all for the idea as she held out her hand, and both of them focused on arriving at their destination.

"Who the hell are you?" The surprised resistant members asked as Paige orbed herself as close as they could get. Unable to arrive inside of the resistance and anti-anything spell preventing them from doing so.

It was no secret that the Elders had effectively abandoned their children, and any Whitelighters alive were in hiding, shunning their powers in hopes of keeping alive. Though they were already dead...

So to say two women orbing in, seemingly familiar to most of the magical community was a shock, was a pretty big understatement.


He could hear the fighting outside, and he already knew the Witch who had failed to keep in his cell was dead for his lack of abilities when it came to keeping one man inside the 4x4 room. One more death to add to the list, he supposed, one more guilty-burden to add to his burning back, aching shoulders, and breaking spirit. He groaned, his forearms were bound tightly behind him, unable to break free, and as soon as he heard the door creak open and shuffling feet, he wasn't surprised when something sat on him, hard. His brother, ever the bastard when it came to giving in, commanding him to call out, "Uncle," as he wheezed was sitting on him.

"How fucking juvenile." His brother's response to the jibe, something he actually missed enough to allow no gag to be replaced, was to let his knees dig into Chris' kidneys as he pushed his brother's face hard into the stone concrete floor. His chest was crushed, and he could only wheeze as he tried to breathe. His vision darkened with black spots for a moment, and delirium was indeed winning.

"It isn't too late, Chris-."

He snorted.

"Join me, and all of the pain will go away."

He snorted once more, biting back a groanat the pain.

"You're on the losing team, Chris, just say you'll be on my side. We can work together to make this world better."

He laughed, snorted, and laughed a little more.

"You think this is funny!"

Maybe he shouldn't have laughed when Wyatt asked once again if he would join him. Maybe he shouldn't have roared with laughter...or mocked the regime.

Wyatt grabbed his arms, throwing his brother over onto his back, the weight of the younger man's body slamming into his arms, earning a cry of alarm and pain. "Well do you!" He said, grabbing the dark locks and shoving the head into the ground. "Damn you, Christopher, damn you." Wyatt muttered as he got up, "I didn't want to do this, but you leave me no choice, can't you see that?" He almost sounded regretful as he left Chris alone in the dungeon once again, pondering those last words, and a hint of warning. Talk about foreboding, he thought to himself, as he waited for the inevitable.


Questions were shot from every direction, and as soon as it was discerned they had no weapons save for Paige's powers, and weren't exactly covered in the shadow of darkness brought on by evil intentions, they were let in to the stronghold Chris had helped keep safe. And Phoebe, never one for tact in the best of situations, had had enough of the staring. "Okay, has a guy been here? Tall, dark hair, goes by the name of Chris?"

Paige would have hit her had she not seen the sudden tension rising in the room, mainly from those who recognized two out of the three great Charmed Ones. No one spoke, no one dared, but one girl, short, with brown hair tied back in a bun, stepped forward, allegiance to old friends giving her enough courage. "He was here," She said quietly.

"What do you mean?" Phoebe asked her tone dangerously low, she got the distinct impression of how bad things must be, for the silence to remain stoic. The girl stepped backwards, intimidated by the Charmed One.

"Was Chris here?" Paige asked and the girl directed her attention to the younger Witch.

"Yes, he was here, but-."

"But what! You just turned him away!" Phoebe cried out, finally able to let go of her own fear to allow other emotions in, them being the telltale ones of all those around her. Empathic ability one, resistance nil.

"Yes!" A sudden voice growled from the doorway. The two Witches of 2004 span around at the newcomer.

"He's been gone for months, and nothing! What's to say he ever went to the past, how do we know Wyatt didn't get to him first!" The burly man asked, his muscles showing clearly from the green vest top he wore, and Phoebe knew not to like him, or trust him, because he was trying far too hard to hide something, an event, something he had done to their nephew that she couldn't quite see, or feel rather.

"What the hell are you talking about? Of course he came to the past, we're here aren't we?" Paige cried, indicating her and her sister.

"And as far as I can tell, we don't exactly exist in this future." Phoebe quipped, annoyed.

"How do we know you're not another one of Wyatt's tricks?" He asked angrily, loud enough to mask the small sound of orbing in the corridor.

"You don't, but cross us and you might find out how much power two Charmed Ones pack!" Paige's outburst earned her a respected look from Phoebe and startled ones from those around her.

"They're real, step back Darren." Another male voice spoke up from doorway, filled with melancholy. He stepped into the light, earning gasps from Paige and Phoebe, glad to see a familiar face, though still angry at his fault in the situation they were now in.

"Leo," Paige breathed, stepping forward, feeling slightly safer in the presence of the Elder. Though his robe was singed and muddy, and his face was set in a sad frown, it was still their ex brother in law.


The punch had come without warning, save for him provoking a very stressed out Source. He had greeted him as perky as he could muster, almost mimicking the caretaker of the museum he had encountered a few times in the past, and Wyatt had seen it rightly as an insult, and right now, he had a reputation to uphold and would not be taking that from his baby brother. Not now, not ever.

Chris watched the black robes flowing down to the gravelled surface of the ground, as someone else stepped in behind Wyatt, he saw the white hair shining, and the glint in his eye as they caught the nearby firelight on the cavern walls, dancing as the flames made shadows appear. The grin was unmistakable, he knew of this demon. One his family had vanquished many a-time. He had even seen him thanks to Wyatt and his museum projections.

He knew the face from the Book of Shadows, even if he hadn't seen its pages since-since Bianca had given him the courage to do so, and he hadn't flicked through them for so long before then.

Chris laughed, once again earning a glare from his older brother, as he spat the blood from his split lip into the ground as he did so. "You resurrected a demon?" He asked, surprised at his brother's own stupidity, after all, this demon had a track record of besting their family. Even if they too had a reputation for besting him right back.

"So you're Christopher?" The voice, so smooth and silky; was making his skin crawl, ignoring the younger Halliwell's words as he stooped down low. Chris gritted his teeth as a hand took hold of his chin, and he spat the words venomously as he said the hated demon's name.

"Barbas."

What do you mean, evil? I'm just having a little fun!