Title: Shadows at Noon
Disclaimer: I don't own anything
Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Fall From Grace
"How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the
morning! How art thou cut down to the ground, which didst
weaken the nations!"
Isaiah 14:12
I knew something was wrong. It was my fault, in a way. I knew something was wrong, and I worried about it, but I did nothing. And yet, I was so wrapped up in my own fury and grief that I could not see the truth before my eyes. I did not see that this was my fault, not until a while later, not until it was too late to take back what had happened and start again.
When Wyatt went down the wrong path, I helplessly watched him fall.
And now Prue was falling from grace as well, and although this time I could have saved her... this time we were all too preoccupied to pull her back from the ledge.
But let me start at the beginning.
Prue ducked as the fireball flew past her head. She couldn't help but let out a sharp breath of frustration at the movement and replied with her own burst of fire swirling from her palm. Chris, who was fighting another demon nearer to the end of the alley, rocked backwards on his heels as he barely managed to avoid an athame that was thrown directly at his heart. The three witches they had been trying to save, the only known survivors of a powerful coven that had been brutally annihilated by renegade demons the week before, were standing together in a clump, valiantly holding their own as they fought against two other demons.
Prue flung out her hand and the ground began to shake in response to her powers. She had not meant to call upon that particular elemental gift, but the mini-earthquake did startle the demons long enough for Chris to vanquish his opponent and one of the demons attacking the three witches. Prue followed suit by vanquishing hers, but the last demon, the largest of the bunch, easily dodged her attack and struck one of the witches to the ground. Chris countered by telekinetically shoving the demon backwards, but the creature was still able to retain a grip on its athame, and it lunged forward and plunged the sharp metal blade into the witch's throat.
She gave a gurgle, blood pooling at her lips, and died.
"No!" Prue cried, fury temporarily blinding her to anything else as she sent a stream of barely controlled fire directly at the remaining demon. He jumped out of the way and the fire harmlessly scorched the wall of the building behind him.
One of the two witches left standing flicked her own wrist at the demon, and he was suddenly engulfed it what looked like dark red goo. It covered his face, blinding him,and slid down his shoulders onto his arms, trapping them at his side. He struggled against the strange goo, but to no avail.
Chris telekinetically sent the demon's own athame directly into the demon's back, and he howled, making nothing more than a choked sound against the red goo, before erupting into flames and disappearing.
"What was that?" Chris asked, turning to the witch who had conjured the goo.
The witch shrugged hesitantly. "I don't know. It's just something I can conjure. It traps demons... suffocates them, also." She gave an awkward smile that turned into a tearful grimace as she looked down at her fallen comrade.
"We should go," Prue said quickly, sharply. "Chris, can you take the body also? For a funeral?"
Chris nodded, and the group linked hands. Prue placed her hand on Chris' shoulder and Chris reached out gingerly to touch the dead witch, and they all disappeared in a swirl of blue and white lights.
She wasn't the first witch we had lost, and she wouldn't be the last. Her death wasn't even that brutal compared to some of the things we had seen. But somehow it set Prue off, and the anger that had simmered beneath the surface ever since her father's death broke loose, filling the air around her and crackling with an electricity that somehow, inexplicably, unforgivably, went completely unnoticed by the rest of us.
Adam shifted through the pile of papers that threatened to slide off the table and onto the floor, searching for the spell he had written earlier that day. Ria, standing at his side, protested his movements with all the passion she could muster.
"You can't just use a spell that you haven't thought through properly. Adam, do you have any idea what you're doing?"
"I did plan this out properly," Adam answered evenly as he finally located the spell and lifted it into his hand. "And I know exactly what I am doing."
"It is way too dangerous," Ria countered. "Casting a spell to elaborate on your own dreams... You do realize that you could get lost in a dream, don't you? You could get stuck inside your own head. Like being in a magical coma."
"Or, I could find the solution to this horrible future," Adam retorted.
"Yeah, and that won't be much good when you're in your magical vegetative state and can't communicate with any of us."
Whatever Adam's response to that was going to be was lost as Chris orbed in, bringing Daryl and a very confused looking young woman with him. There was complete silence for a moment, then Adam and Ria both cried in unison, "Daryl!" and launched themselves at the older man.
"Huh," Daryl said with a grin as he returned their hugs, "didn't realize I was so well loved."
"Daryl!" Ria protested with a laugh. "Are you going to stay?" she asked eagerly.
Daryl sighed. It was no secret that his refusal to join the Resistance had been particularly hard on the younger Halliwells, especially since Leo's death. They had begged him, time and again, to seek safety with them. But he had always refused, insisting that he had to live his own life in his own world. It was something he knew they wouldn't never truly understand, and so he was never surprised when they looked at him with a sense of betrayal in those brown eyes.
But it didn't make it any easier to turn and walk away.
"No," he replied softly, "I'm just bringing someone here. This is Monica," he gestured to the woman behind him. "Monica Parker. She's a witch. She just had an altercation with Wyatt. And..." he glanced back at her questioningly, "Bartus?"
"Barbus," she corrected in a timid voice. "He's the..."
"Demon of Fear," Adam supplied. "Yeah, we know." He looked at her for a moment, then turned to Chris, holding out the paper on which he had written his spell. "Can you look over this and let me know if the spell seems okay?"
"It isn't okay, Adam," Ria interjected as Chris took the worn paper from his cousin's fingers. He gave Ria a mildly surprised look, and then glanced down at the spell.
"What are you trying to do?" Daryl asked interestedly, glancing over Chris' shoulder at the words on the paper.
"Look into his own dreams," Ria answered before Adam had the chance to respond. "In case they turn out to be prophetic." She gave a little impatient huff and added, "Of course, it is a suicide mission, but it isn't like he cares about that..."
"I care," Adam argued. "But it might not be as dangerous as you think."
"Delving into any mind is dangerous, Adam," Chris said with some concern, "even if it is your own."
"See?" Ria cried in triumph, pointing at Chris. "Chris thinks it is a bad idea, too."
"Well," Adam said with a smirk curling the corners of his lips, "I suppose I should be grateful, then, that I don't actually need your permission to do this."
The silence that met those words was broken by the sound of footsteps on the floor and Prue stepped into the room. She looked surly and sullen, but her expression brightened at the sight of Daryl. "Hi!" she said enthusiastically, hurrying to give their family friend a hug. "What are you doing here?" She alone had given up asking him to stay, she seemed somehow to understand that he couldn't be here.
Daryl waved a hand towards Monica. "Helping someone."
"Oh." Prue cast a curious glance at Monica, then turned to her cousins. "Why are they all glaring at each other?"
"Adam wants to cast a spell to see his dreams," Daryl explained, "and Ria thinks it is too dangerous."
Prue turned and interested gaze to her youngest cousin. "Do you think you could find something in those dreams?" she questioned thoughtfully. "Something useful, that is."
"Maybe," Adam answered. "Anyway, it is worth a shot, isn't it? I mean, I know how dangerous it is, but still..." He gave Prue and imploring look, and she began to nod slowly in agreement.
That brought Ria back into the conversation with a furious, "No! You can't just make a decision to risk your life like that."
"We risk our lives every time we leave here to help other witches," Prue replied pointedly, taking up the argument and giving Adam a brief respite. "If Adam can help, how is that any different?"
"It is different because we don't know if he can help," Ria replied through clenched teeth, angry that her older cousin had chosen to side with Adam. "For all we know, he's rushing into death for no good reason."
"He thinks he can help," Prue countered.
"That's not the same thing," Chris said, coming to Ria's aid. "Prue, you know we never go out on rescue missions unless we are all agreed on it. We don't risk our lives unless their is a good reason. Adam wants to do this in spite of our opinions. That's the problem. We shouldn't make decision by ourselves."
"Well, maybe you two should actually try listening to Adam," Prue snapped in reply, eyes narrowed. "He says he thinks it will help. Just trust him."
"We do trust him," Ria retorted, flushed at the implication. "Of course we do."
"Then act like it," Prue hissed. "He wants to do something. Something that might actually be useful. And you two can't be bothered to listen to him long enough to see that, in the long run, this might be our best bet."
"I am not going to sacrifice my younger brother to save the world," Ria snapped.
"You don't know he's going to die," came Prue's reply.
"You don't know he isn't."
It was Monica's words, still quiet and diffident, that brought a halt to the argument. She turned to Daryl, eyes wide, and asked, "Maybe we should come back later?"
"No," Chris said. "I'm sorry, this wasn't the way we wanted to greet you." He shot an annoyed look at the other three, then said, "Come on, I can show you around. It's not much, but you'll be safe here."
"Thanks," she murmured, and followed Chris from the room.
Prue stalked away as well, leaving Adam, Ria, and Daryl standing alone in the room. There was a long silence, tense and fraught with unspoken frustrations, and then Daryl said, "You're siblings. You are both trying to do what you think is right. Stop acting like the other person is the enemy here. Because you guys have a real enemy, and he's difficult enough to stop without you fighting each other also."
Ria opened her mouth to retort, but the look in Daryl's eyes forced her to stop and to listen, really listen, to what he was saying. She slowly inhaled, nodding. "You're right. I just..." She looked over at Adam, wishing she could get him to understand how terrifying it was to hear him talk about this dangerous spell as though it would be the easiest thing in the world. She needed him to survive this war, and if anything went wrong...
"I know," Adam said. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gotten angry at you. I just... I really think I can do this."
Ria swallowed back the lump in her throat. "And I really can't lose you."
They were siblings, and they could work it out. One way or another, they always managed to get past the arguments and the fights and focus on the good things in the world.
So they did.
And they were happy, for a time, because they had managed to repair and almost broken bond, and come to an agreement about the spell. They were happy because they thought it was all over.
But they didn't think about Prue.
They were siblings. They could work it out. But Prue... she couldn't work it out. Because she was still angry, all the time, and we were still too involved in our own personal problems to notice.
"Damn it!" Chris breathed as the fireball passed close enough to him to singe the material of his shirt. He felt the heat, and blinked away a daze of pain, before turning to the offending demon with a cold stare. Flinging out one hand, he sent the demon flying through the air.
They were in a parking lot outside a small grocery store. Prue and Myst were both engaged with a group of demons, and Chris was struggling to make his way through another knot of enemies to reach the five children huddled by the entrance to the store. It was another rescue mission that had dissolved into a desperate fight for survival, and they were losing.
The children were screaming, sobbing, begging for mercy, as though the demons actually had mercy to give.
Chris doubted any of them were magical. Usually, in a situation like this with emotions running so rampantly out of control, magic would explode from even the youngest of untrained witches, a protection of sorts. Since nothing like that had happened, he could only assume that they were mortal, and therefore felt the horror of this even more. The parents of each child had been killed, not because they were powerful threats to the demons, but because the demons had thought it was fun. Sport.
He felt sick.
The sound of Myst's voice forming into a sharp, short cry of pain caused him to spin around with fear in his eyes. He saw the blonde warrior stumble and fall under the vicious onslaught of three demons. His own enemies and the five children he needed to save were suddenly forgotten, and all he could think of was the terror and pain that would accompany Myst's death. He couldn't let that happen, couldn't lose her to the same fate that had taken everyone else he cared about.
Without the slightest hesitation, he rushed to her side, shoving two of the demons aside and yanking her back to her feet. She was bleeding from a long cut down her side, but it was shallow enough to not be life-threatening at the moment. She raised her own sword as the demons came back, and was able to fight off yet another attack.
It was then that they heard it, the sob that ended suddenly, the four resulting screams, the thud of a bodying falling. Chris, Myst, and Prue all whipped around to see one of the demon stabbing his athame into the chest of one of the young children, a redhead with brown eyes and a pale face. She opened her mouth in one last cry of pain before her eyes glazed over and she fell, face-forward, to the ground.
"No!" Prue cried as the demon turned to another child, this time a boy. A burst of wind left her hand, and a mini-tornado swept across the parking lot, picking up dust and pebbles and broken glass. It collided into the demon, somehow magically bypassing all the children. The demon screamed out in rage, but it was too late to do anything, and several shards of glas embedded themselves in his chest until he went up in a rush of flames.
Their were four demons remaining, but they all gave Prue apprehensive looks and shimmered or blinked away.
The young elemental witch, breathing heavily, rushed to the children and bent at the side of the young girl. She was dead, far beyond saving, and Prue carefully brushed the dirt off her young face and closed her eyelids.
She couldn't have been more than five.
"Oh, God," Chris whispered, his entire body shaking.
The sound of his voice caught Prue's attention, bringing her crashing back into the present with a sudden fury. Spinning to face Chris, she demanded with an accusing tone, "Where were you?"
"What?" Chris stuttered.
"It was your job to get to the children, Chris," Prue continued, her voice trembling with emotion. "At the beginning of the fight, you told us to hold off the demons and you would get the five of them out of here. Safely. You had plenty of time to get there. Why didn't you?"
"I..." He looked over at Myst, unprepared for and immeasurably hurt by his cousin's outburst.
"Oh, right," Prue said, rolling her eyes in disgust, "you were too busy playing kissy-face with Myst!"
"She'd gotten hurt. I was trying to help her," Chris protested.
Prue rose to her feet and gave Chris a disparaging look. "She's one of the Valkeries, Chris. She's a trained warrior. She can fight on her own. You just saw some blood and panicked, and look what happened!" She glanced down at the dead girl again, and added, "Why didn't you use your telekinesis to get the demons away from the children? Even if you were over with Myst, you should have been able to do that."
"I didn't... it happened so fast..."
"Well, the demon clearly had plenty of time," Prue sneered.
Chris paled and Myst looked ready to start a fight, to jump to the defense of her friend, but Prue had already turned away and was talking to the four remaining children, offering reassurances and comfort in a gentle tone so unlike her previous anger. Chris placed his hand on Myst's arm and shook his head, signaling for her to let go of her rage, and the two of them joined Prue, quieting the crying children and transporting them to safety.
Maybe Prue was right. Maybe I shouldn't have gone to save Myst. She was probably more than able to protect herself, and I was reacting with my heart and not my head. But I didn't think about Prue's point-of-view at the time. I only saw the dead child, hair splayed out on the ground, blood pooling on her chest, and heard Prue's harsh words.
And felt anger.
So I avoided Prue as much as possible. And I don't know how I possibly missed what happened next, how everything could have changed, could have gotten so drastically worse, without me noticing.
But it did.
And that is something I will regret until my dying day.
Prue glanced around the empty alley and then looked up at the full moon. The people she had been helping in this mission, a nymph and two leprachauns, had succesfully escaped the warlocks that were now nothing more than piles of ash on the dirt-covered alley ground. She breathed a sigh of relief at that. She'd been out-numbered, and she knew it had been foolish to fight on her own, but she had been the only one at the safe-house when the distress call had come, and she'd been forced to go alone or risk being too late to save the innocents.
The sound of a whirling buzz caused her to spin around, and she found herself facing a giant probe that instantly scanned her face and transmitted before she could destroy it.
It happened in the blink of an eye, so fast she realized that he had always been waiting for something like this, had always been prepared to drop everything and orb as soon as his probes picked up one of them.
And before she knew it, black and blue orbs filled the air in front of her, and she found herself staring into Wyatt's icy blue eyes.