A/N: So here's the new chapter, earlier than planned because you're all mad, people, and I love you for it! Your reviews are not only enormously supportive, they're also thoughtful, and clever, and give me a new perspective on what I'm doing. You're all part of the writing process, guys!

Here follows a short excursion about poetry:

This is an answer to jenny: Don't ever be afraid to ask! The title of the story is a line from T.S. Eliot's poem "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock". There are many interpretations about what it means, because no one knows for sure (Eliot is a brilliant poet, which makes him complicated). But the poem as a whole is about choices in life and someone who isn't sure of his own identity, someone who considers himself boring, unimportant and knows about it, but perhaps always wanted to be more (if you want to read more of the poem, just google it or go to my profile, there's another excerpt of it there).

I chose this particular line for two reasons: First because I think that Chris in the series and the Chris in my story is never happy with who he is and what he did and, basically, just wanted to lead a normal life but couldn't. The other reason lies in the 'pair' of ragged claws. The idea that led to this story was this: What would happen if Chris wasn't alone in the past, but had someone by his side who came from a similar background and understood what he was doing, someone who would support him against the sisters and allow him to be who he really is around them. In working together, Chris and Sarah can be a pair of claws, and that makes them stronger and less lonely.

So there – a long answer, but I hope it's of interest to you. I too often wonder these sort of things about stories, and since I've studied English literature myself, I've spent hours analyzing them…

… Poetry rant now official over! On to the story! It's my longest chapter yet…

Family

"But he isn't a danger to you!" Hand protested for what seemed like the hundredth time. "If only you'd listen to his reasons…"

Piper, arms folded across her chest, just regarded the girl with the same determination she had shown during this whole, hellishly long day.

"I know you believe that, Hand," she said calmly. "And I would certainly talk to you about how you feel about all this, but we've wasted far too much time puzzling over Chris' reasons and motives. I for one just want to stop Gideon and get back to my normal life, and I'd really like you to respect that."

As she had ever since Chris had orbed out thirty minutes ago, Hand refused to meet Piper's eyes directly. When he had left, cold and under perfect control, she hadn't shared the Charmed One's relief, not one bit. Instead, she had stared at the spot where he'd stood with a forlorn expression, then levelled them all with an accusing stare and started arguing.

It had gone downhill from there.

Hand had been adamant that Chris' actions could be justified and that they were making a terrible mistake, and she'd shrugged each and every attempt of the sisters to talk about her feelings away as if she didn't matter at all.

She'd also kept a safe distance from them all, especially Leo, and had avoided any physical contact, as if she couldn't be trusted not to harm them if they came too close.

That above all things told Phoebe how furious the girl really was, and that in turn made the uneasy feeling in Phoebe's belly unfold and grow. Sure, there was such a thing as Stockholm syndrome, but if Hand had shown anything over the past day, it was that she could – and would – protect herself. There had to be a reason why she fought for Chris so strongly and consistently, right?

Whether Hand had detected the ring of frustration in Piper's voice or was simply ready to give up on her own, she finally seemed willing to back off.

"May I offer advice, then?" She asked after a moment of strained silence. "I've been in conflict with Elders before…"

"Why, anyway?" Leo threw in, who'd been watching the girl this past hour with quiet interest. He hadn't seen her fight, hadn't seen much of her except the surprising fealty oath earlier the day (God, had that really been today? It felt like ages ago!), and the way she had argued in favour of Chris, calm and decisive, had obviously surprised him. "What fights did you have with Elders?"

Hand just sent him a glare. She had taken a real dislike to him, it seemed, and her comments about 'hypocritical Elders' had nearly caused another confrontation not ten minutes ago. So it didn't surprise Phoebe when she drew herself up a bit and answered, with a surprising amount of arrogance and obvious enjoyment: "Future consequences, Leo."

"What advice?" Paige asked, sounding tired and unwilling to endure yet another quarrel. She had been another recipient of accusing stares, since Hand had obviously expected her to support Chris and couldn't understand where Paige was coming from.

To Phoebe's relief, Hand didn't dwell on the point, merely turned towards Phoebe as if she'd been the one who'd asked, and concentrated on her.

"For one, I'd place wards around the house, strong wards, enough to keep all demons and especially Elders out. I don't really know why you didn't do so before, but it would at least make sure that Wyatt can't be kidnapped from here. And then we need a plan how to relocate and confront Gideon, if possible without him knowing about it. That might be difficult…"

She trailed off, already deep in thought, but Phoebe was still working on the first bit of advice.

"Wards?" She asked. "What exactly do you mean? Something like our demon warning system, a kind of burglar alert? But that would just tell us when demons arrive, not keep them out…"

Hand stared at her incredulously.

"Are you telling me that you don't know how to ward against intruders?" She asked. "But didn't…

Phoebe knew how that sentence would end, and something in her chest ached over this new proof of betrayal. But didn't Chris show you how to do that? Yet another thing their Whitelighter had never bothered to tell them. But Hand was too diplomatic to say that.

"I can teach you, or do it myself," she offered instead. "If I start now, it should be done by dawn. I'll need a drop of blood from everyone you want to key into the wards, but apart from that you have everything I need in the house already."

Piper thought it over, sharing a glance with her sisters and Leo.

"Do it," she then said. "You can teach us later, but I want the wards in place as quickly as possible. I probably won't sleep before they're up. It will be good to have the house safe from Gideon. And from Chris."

Hand nodded, but she didn't look happy, and after another moment of hesitation she opened her mouth to speak. Here we go again, Phoebe thought.

"I'm sorry, but I just don't understand you," Hand said.

"You don't have to, Hand," Piper admonished her. "The decision's made. And you don't know us well enough to judge the situation, anyway."

"But from what I know of your history, you've all been evil at one point," Hand just couldn't let it rest. "You've all lost your way. You've done far worse things and forgiven each other, and yet you judge him that easily?"

"That's different," Leo disagreed, and Hand sighed with exasperation.

"How is it different?"

"Because we're family," Piper stated. "And Chris isn't. And that won't change, no matter how long you keep going at us."

Hand lowered her head, both hands clenched to fists.

"I see," she said after a long moment of silence. "If that is how you feel. I only wish…"

But they would never find out what she'd wished for, because she interrupted herself and shook her head in an abortive gesture.

"I should start my preparations," she then said abruptly. "I would like to clean up and rest for a bit before attempting the spell, if you don't mind."

"Sure," Phoebe agreed quickly, happy that there was something she could do. "But you should really move out of the cellar, honey. Take one of the guest rooms, they're much more comfortable."

Hand sent her a long, not very friendly look. Something in her eyes told Phoebe that she was thinking of Chris, out on the streets, alone and without a place to stay at all.

"No, thank you," she said slowly, and very precisely. "The cellar suits me perfectly."

She left the room without looking at Piper once.

Outwardly, Sarah might appear perfectly calm and collected to anybody around her, but her thoughts were a different thing. She had perfected the mask of Hand over the years so that no shock, no pain would tear it down, but in truth the events of the day had left her feeling ragged and raw.

There was just too much to deal with, too many thoughts and observations dancing through her mind, and she couldn't afford the time to work through them right now. Fox depended on her to keep his family safe. Even if they didn't deserve it.

She'd been half decided to follow him, never mind his direct command, but that would have been foolhardy, and she hadn't allowed herself to follow dangerous impulses for years. So it was waiting for her, waiting and protecting those she in truth wanted to smash to pieces for what they had done. But bending her own will had become second nature to her, and perhaps this way there was at least something she could do for him.

She waited until she had closed the cellar door behind her and placed anti-listening wards – small and feeble things in comparison to what she could do with a bit of time, but they would at least alert her if anyone came near.

Then, she sat down on her camp bed and concentrated.

She knew this should be possible – she had been able to do it with Wyatt, after all, and Fox and her former Lord shared that ability as they'd shared so many things. But she had never tried it before with the younger brother, and she just hoped he wouldn't consider her too forward.

She took a deep breath.

"Fox," she then said quietly. Touching a whitelighter's mind didn't depend on the volume of ones voice, just on the intent.

"I…"

She broke off, unsure how to proceed. This form of contact was rather intimate, something Lord Wyatt had enjoyed, but she didn't know about Fox. So she opted for the formal.

"I hope you are well. I have followed your commands and will begin warding the house. The process should be complete around dawn, and the sisters will probably go to sleep once the house is safe. If you wish to meet with me, I will wait for you outside the kitchen door at six o'clock. I will have provisions and equipment ready for you."

She hesitated.

"I am sorry," she then whispered into the air, her heart too full to suppress every emotion. "This isn't your fault, please believe me. I wish there was more I could do."

She sat silently for a moment, listening to the echo of her lonely voice. Whitelighters could hear their charges and those connected to them from all over the world – another reason she had pledged to Fox this morning -, but they had no way of answering. Whatever Fox was doing, he was on his own for now.

He wouldn't break under this, she knew him well enough to be sure of that. He wouldn't wallow in his feelings or nurse his pain. Instead, he would shove it all away and concentrate on the task he still had to do, in total disregard of his own needs.

He was probably in the underworld already, chasing after Gideon. He was probably trying his best to forget the events of the day, because that was the only way he could function after what had happened, after what they did to him.

Tonight, Sarah was profoundly happy that she'd never had a family, not if this was what they did to you. But then she remembered her best friend, a phoenix with a bright future ahead of her, Wyatt's favourite weapon before Hand came along. Bianca had given it all up for Fox, choosing to make him her family despite all the dangers that brought with it, and she'd died for him willingly, preferring that pain to the loneliness without him.

"I'm sorry, Bianca," she whispered. "I tried to keep him safe for you. But it's a good deal harder than you ever let on."

Another echo in an empty room. But this message would never receive an answer, and when she remembered her best friend, Bianca's worry over the man she had loved and her determination to help him, grief filled her heart, heavy and numbing.

Then she closed her eyes and concentrated on the task at hand. Sentimentality wouldn't help, here. There was still an Elder out there, waiting for a chance to sneak into the house and ruin the thing Fox and fought for, Bianca had died for. It was up to her to stop him.

Recalling what she knew about warding was an easy task. Her old master had trained her well, if harshly, and the memory techniques she had learned in early childhood ensured that no lesson would ever be forgotten.

She needed a simple type of warding, something that could be erected without too much effort and without being visible to the non-magic neighbours, something that wouldn't put the mansion on the magical radar even more than it already was. But the wards also needed to be strong enough to repel the strongest of opponents and they needed to be flexible enough to be keyed to a number of different people, not all of the same blood.

Her mind flitted through lessons she'd taken and books she'd read, through memories of wards she had encountered or been told about, discarding some and categorizing others for possible use.

Then, she turned towards her knowledge about the Elders and came upon a memory of Lord Wyatt from the days before his attack on their stronghold.

She was walking besides him through the halls of his palace, arms folded in the small of her back, head tilted towards him just the way he liked. He was talking to her, quietly, earnestly, the way he only did when he was truly interested. Sometimes, when they were alone and he thought himself safe, all that cockiness and arrogance fell away from him, making place for his genuine interest in magical theory. He hadn't much book learning, this ruler of the magical world, but he had an intuitive understanding of magic that rivalled even the oldest and wisest of his counsellors.

"Elders," he said, his dark, rich voice resonating with disgust. "Their greatest weakness is their flashiness, and you can always get them at their ego. They will throw their most powerful weapons at you, their strongest allies. They will electrocute you, or unleash the Gods on you, but they would never instruct a mortal to simply shoot you down. They are powerful, and they want the rest of the world to know it."

He must have read something in the line of her body, in her perfectly calm face, for he stopped and turned towards her fully.

"Yes," he smiled, a chuckle hidden in his voice. Those who met him for the first time always remarked in surprise how easygoing he was, how warm. They would consider him 'not so bad' right until he burned them to death where they stood. And, mostly, they would be right about it. "I know what you're not saying. That sounds just like a description of me."

She judged his mood, found him playful and risked a small smile, knowing that he would appreciate a gesture of independence under these circumstances. She'd been serving him for two years now and found it increasingly easy to judge his expectations.

"But you're not flashy," she chanced to comment and was rewarded with an even broader smile.

"And I'm not as sanctimonious," he added. "They're all hypocritical, those 'supreme beings of good'. They are blind for their true nature, and that makes them vulnerable. That's the weakness I'll exploit, and I'll crush them in my fist."

He looked her up and down, noticing that she wore the new battle robes he had commissioned for her.

"You will kill them for me, my servant, my Hand," he whispered. "I will enjoy watching it."

Sarah worked steadily through the night, mixing the ingredients for the ward line, then chanting the requisite spells and embedding the raw power into them. They took a lot of power – it was a good thing that she hadn't had much use for her magic over the past weeks. She had built up a huge reserve that even the battle against Gideon's demons hadn't depleted, and so she had enough strength left to perform the warding itself.

If not added to, the protective spells would stay active for at least three months. She sincerely hoped that the danger would be over by then, or that Fox would somehow be reunited with his family so that he could help her with stabilizing them. He was an expert at warding from what she had seen of abandoned and captured Resistance buildings, and his help would have really made this easier. Not that there was any use telling that to the Charmed Ones, she thought bitterly.

Before the first rays of dawn touched the bay, her preparations were finished. She gathered her supplies and left the basement, only to find said Charmed Ones and their pet Elder sitting in the kitchen, bleary eyed and on the point of collapse.

She forbade herself any thought about their softness – it wouldn't do to antagonise them further, and she wanted nothing more than to send them off to bed as soon as possible so that she could meet with Fox. Instead, she concentrated on appearing calm and in control, hoping that they wouldn't ask too many questions about the process. Fox probably had a good reason for not teaching them this, and she didn't want to compromise his plans.

"I need your blood," she said shortly. "It will key you into the wards and strengthen them at the same time."

The sisters stretched out their hands without hesitation, but Leo shifted uneasily on his chair, probably knowing better than they how much mischief someone like Hand could do with the blood of an Elder or a powerful good witch.

"I'll do it," he then offered, and only years of self-control prevented her from rolling her eyes. Really. She could strip them of their power and kill them all in a heartbeat, and he worried that she would misuse their blood?

"Mix it carefully with the base," she instructed instead of informing him in every detail of her thought. "Then circle the house and garden once and make sure the line isn't broken anywhere. I want the dome to go up before it's light outside, so no one will notice what's going on."

Leo was still eyeing her sceptically as if watching out for dark magic, but he nodded quietly and followed her instructions.

"What now?" He asked when he returned to the kitchen, and this time she did roll her eyes. She even earned a smile from Paige for that gesture; obviously childishness was encouraged by the sisters. It made her appear harmless, and harmless was what she wanted to be to Fox's family. Right until it didn't serve her interests anymore.

"Now I do this," she answered and concentrated on the magic line that now surrounded the mansion. Finding it unbroken and powerful, she nodded with satisfaction, reached deep into her core of power and threw her magic out over the house like a bell jar, covering every inch above the earth. She reached deeper and added another bell jar, this time under the house, so that no one could shimmer or burrow in from under them. She'd once killed a nest of demons that way, and it hadn't been pretty for them.

Then, she clapped her hands, the sound resonating with her magic, making it pulse and grow. Once, she clapped. Twice. Thrice.

And like a glowing ball of glass, like Lord Wyatt's magical shield, a dome sprang up around the house, shimmering light blue for a moment, then yellow, then silver, before vanishing into thin air. Only her carefully honed senses told her that it was still there and holding strong.

When she returned her attention to the kitchen, she saw that the sisters were looking at her with something like awe.

"That was beautiful," Phoebe said, typically. Paige nodded silently, and even Piper seemed a bit overwhelmed. Not for the first time, Sarah was surprised by how little the sisters seemed used to more complicated uses of magic, as if they had never quite gotten beyond the level of rhyming spells.

"And this will keep Wyatt safe?" Piper asked. "No demon or Elder can enter the house?"

Sarah nodded.

"That should do the trick," she told them. "No one with magical powers can enter except you invite them in – I'll show you how that's done later. Non-magical people can enter, to avoid suspicion, but the wards will warn me when they cross the line. You're safe. You can go to bed now."

She was hiding by the back door when Chris reached the house, and only the fact that she stood up in greeting made him see her in time. He had decided to approach the manor on foot, not sure if Sarah's wards would alert the family to orbs and magic in the area. He swept an assessing gaze over the wards, then waited for her at their edge. They weren't as refined as what he'd have done with a bit of time, but they would do for now.

She walked towards him slowly, a bulging rucksack on her back, a duffel in her hand. That had to be the 'equipment' she'd spoken of, he thought with a vague sense of relief. Supplies would make his life easier over the next week, but he couldn't spare much thought for practicalities right now. Merely functioning demanded all his strength and concentration.

Get it together, Chris, he told himself fiercely. You can fall apart when Gideon is dead, not a moment sooner!

She hesitated when she reached him, and her gaze flickered across the open space behind him, scanning for dangers like he had scanned the house. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again, looking unsure of herself. He had noticed the same insecurity in her – very surprising and slightly unsettling – message, and although he didn't really have the time or the strength for other people's problems right now, he nodded to indicate that she could speak.

"Are you all right?" She asked what had become her trademark-question by now.

He shrugged.

"Still alive," he answered, slightly shocked at how bitter he sounded, how jaded. "That's all that counts, after all."

She nodded, not to agree with him but to indicate that she understood.

"You don't look so good," she commented calmly, and he answered the understatement with a chuckle of dry amusement. He looked like hell, and he knew it. 'Not fit for polite society', his mother would have called it, but he shied away from the memory immediately. He didn't need the face of his mother in his head, today of all days.

"Neither do you," he answered. It was true. From the dark circles under her eyes and the pallor of the skin he judged that she hadn't rested since turning into a firewall, and erecting these wards on such short notice must have been an additional drain. "Didn't they let you sleep at all?"

Now it was her time to shrug.

"I'm not that good a sleeper at the best of times," she said quietly.

He nodded. "I know what you mean."

An awkward silence developed then, filled with the scenes of the last evening and his own confessions. He felt his own tension pulling at his own body, keeping his muscles stiff and his back painfully straight. This was what Bianca had called his 'volcano-stage', not far from erupting, and he needed to do something, to keep moving, or one of Piper's emotion explosions would be nothing against the meltdown.

"Fox," she said after a moment, and without thinking, he interrupted her.

"Chris," he corrected her softly. "Call me Chris, Sarah."

The simple gesture surprised her, and for the first time this morning she met his eyes unguardedly.

"I cannot stand being around them," she confessed heatedly. "What they said to you… how they treated you… I want to shout the truth in their faces and add a fist for good measure!"

Exhaustion weighed heavily on his shoulders.

"You won't change their minds," he said tiredly. "Just make things worse. I… perhaps I deserved it in a way…"

"You did NOT!" She interrupted him fiercely. "They didn't even give you time to explain, just sprang it on you and then…"

He closed his eyes against the memory.

"Let it be, Sarah," he told her quietly. "We have other priorities."

For a moment, she looked as if she wanted to protest, and he felt her searching eyes on his face. He didn't know what she found, but she nodded silently, accepting his request, and he couldn't quite suppress a sigh of relief.

"You're still alive," she whispered. "And one day they'll know what you did for them."

Against his bidding, an image of that day rose in his mind, of his aunts and mother welcoming him home, of his father apologizing and finally recognizing his worth, of his brother, not tainted by the darkness… he'd pictured it often, taking refuge in the daydream whenever things got just a little too hard to bear, but he couldn't afford to live in dreams, especially not now.

"What matters at them moment is only that they survive until I've found Gideon," he said harshly, perhaps too harshly, but one look at her convinced him that she understood.

That was the wonderful thing about having her here, he decided in that moment. Someone who understood, without arguing all the time, without needing explanation after explanation. Someone who'd accept his need to let things rest for the time and who'd have his back when the necessity arose. Someone who'd been there.

"I'm glad I can trust you with that," he confessed.

She blushed. It made her look young and oddly endearing.

"So you trust me, now?"

He wondered how to express what had happened to him back at the manor, when she'd offered him the secret of her real name, before Piper had come down on him with her holy anger.

"I've trusted you ever since I met Sarah," he said, and her blush deepened.

Another silence descended on them as they stood together at the edge of the wards, watching the sun rise, but this one was comforting, filled with all the things they didn't need to tell each other. Then she shrugged the backpack from her shoulder and handed it to him.

"I've brought you vanquishing potions and most of the basic potions supplies," she explained quickly. "There are also a spare pair of crystals, a few athames and semiprecious stones for warding in the duffle. The backpack is full of maps and a few of the books on Elders the sisters have already worked through. They shouldn't miss them."

"Thank you," he said, meaning it. "That will help tremendously. I'll spend much of my time in the underworld these next days, but you can call me anytime there's an emergency. Do not hesitate to do so. I don't care if the sisters don't let me in through the wards or throw me out again afterwards – we must make sure they are safe!"

She nodded, then hesitated again.

"Can I… can I talk to you, now and again, the Whitelighter way?" She asked quietly, saw the refusal rising in his eyes and added hastily: "You need to remember that you're not alone in this, Chris! That's what Bianca always said to me: We need to remember that we aren't alone, or we'll all go crazy and lie down to die, and she was right!"

…you're not alone in this…

To his acute anger and embarrassment, Chris felt the tears rise to his eyes. The voice of his mother was too fresh in his mind, yelling at him that he wasn't one of them, wasn't part of the family, that he wasn't wanted now that his usefulness had ended. He'd told himself the same things over and over again, trying to harden himself against his own fears, but now that they'd become reality, he was as helpless against them as if he'd never seen it coming.

"God," he whispered, half turning away and rubbing at his eyes violently. "I'm not a fucking child anymore! I shouldn't be…"

She stopped his outbreak by stepping closer to him and taking his hand. For a moment he wondered what she was up to, but then he felt a prick of pain and saw his own blood drip from his finger, touching the ground and the ward line.

She whispered a spell, and for one heartbeat the dome was visible around the house again, blue-silver and shining with power.

"What did you do that for?" He asked, surprised.

She met his eyes and her lips curled upwards slowly.

"I've added you to the wards. This is your home, even if its inhabitants are too stupid to see it right now."

He felt his breath catch in his throat. It was a simple gesture and only logical from a strategic point of view, but in this moment of emotional weakness it meant so much more to him.

Piper might have denied his place in the family last night, but this morning, Sarah had given it back to him. Again his eyes were burning, but this time it felt good, cleansing, strengthening.

He even managed a little smile.

"They wouldn't like that," he said quietly.

Sarah just shrugged.

"Who cares? I answer to you, not to them."

Such loyalty. He had shot the whole thing to hell with his stupidity, and still she stood by his side as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Yes," he found himself saying suddenly. "I would like you calling on me. Any time. And I'll try to be here every morning at sunrise."

Her smile was a surprise every single time, turning Hand into Sarah and Sarah into a beauty.

"At sunrise," she agreed. "I'll be waiting for you here."

A/N: I hoped the chapter didn't disappoint? This is the first longer part narrated from Sarah's point of view, and I hope it works out. And another thing: Did you enjoy the flashback? If you like them, I can keep them coming now and again, to tell you more about the unchanged future, so just tell me what you thought about that!