Special note: I'm having problems with the formatting. This is the third time I'm reposting and hopefully FF will post it correctly. If not, I apologize to those who still get the icky version (looks regretfully at Sparkling Cherries...)

A/N: Thanks to everyone for reviewing and leaving such encouraging feedback. Not only am I over the moon to hit the 100 mark (does a little happy dance) but I also wanted to reassure you that I analyze each and every person's feedback – and more often than not, it results in a change in the direction of the story.

Fanastygirl721: Hope you're feeling better!

Girl-with-the-green-eyes: It's been a struggle of mine to maintain a proper balance between the main and secondary characters and making sure I don't let the supporting cast cloud the main plot thread – so thanks for noticing!

Charmed Ravenclaw: Glad you liked it. Thanks for all the supportive comments through this creative process.

Jen: A new reader! Welcome to my universe – glad you're hooked…thanks for the warm words and encouragement.

Andrea4: Addicted in a good way, I hope. Thanks for the kind words – much happiness is mine.

Asha Dreamweaver: Thanks!

Ilovedrew88: Thanks for sticking with me from the beginning…it is incredibly humbling.

Charmedtomeetyou: I, too, hope this trip isn't for nothing…thanks for the review.

Sparking Cherries: Don't apologize. It was actually my bad. You did indeed leave one for the last chapter – I'm just technologically inept (in case you haven't noticed). Thank you for making time to leave feedback for each and every chapter – it is noticed and appreciated.

Zeria: I'll let you in on a little secret – there will indeed be another such scene. Shhhh! – don't tell the others, okay? Thanks for the feedback.

IcantthinkofaFnick: Glad you liked! And in case I haven't mentioned it before, seeing your reviews always bring a smile to my face.


Providence

Chapter 12

The weather is damp and miserable. I sit huddled in my tent, the smell of the dead all around me. I do not want to return to the front, and am ashamed of my cowardice. I continue only because I know I must. Because if I don't, then the demons will surely win and we will all be lost. But I want to go home. I want to go home and be with you, my dear, sweet wife.
excerpt from a recovered letter written by an unknown Resistance fighter


"Have you really thought this through?" Darryl asked, watching Leslie gather supplies. "Maybe…maybe stopping Chris isn't such a good idea…"

Les stared at Darryl in amazement, sputtering, "Are you kidding me?"

The command centre was eerily calm – all non-essential personnel had been banned from the room and Council meetings had been temporarily suspended. Chairs had been cleared, making room for several heavy, large tables covered with maps, scouting reports and other important documents. The atmosphere in the room had an undertone of humming, conveying…almost…a sense of anticipation…activity was brisk and efficient…it was evident to everyone that they were on the cusp of something monumental.

Holding up his hand to forestall further protests, Darryl continued, "Hear me out. If Chris succeeds…if he's able to…eliminate Wyatt – it could mean the end of the war. Would that be so bad?"

"And have you thought about Chris? Do you have any idea how this could impact him emotionally? We're talking about assassinating his brother, here," Les argued.

"Of course I have," Darryl replied, impatiently. "Chris is like another son to me. His well being is important to me…but…"

"But?" Les raised his eyebrow sceptically.

"But maybe one person's…well being…doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things," Darryl sighed, rubbing his forehead as if in pain. "Not when it comes to tens of thousands of people."

"Darryl, I'm not going to argue the merits of one life over millions of others," Les replied, his tone cold. "Bottom line – if Bianca's telling the truth, we're going to need Chris to figure out a way around that cloaking spell. This is a tactical decision. Full stop."

Darryl shrugged. "Ben's doing the best he can. At least he can tell there's a huge amount of magical energy in that area – confirming our suspicions that something's there, anyways."

"A lot of somethings, given the amount of magical energy they're detecting," Les replied grimly. "You and I both know Ben isn't getting anywhere. We need Chris."

"I know."

"So we're agreed?" Les stuck his right hand out.

Without hesitation, Darryl grasped his friend's hand, giving it a strong squeeze. "To the end."

"Ever the optimist." The wisecrack sounded forced.

"So how long do you think you'll be?" Darryl asked Les quietly, unable to do more than crack a small smile at Les' jest.

"Eight hours," Les returned, looking down the barrel of a crossbow. Turning it over, he checked the hair trigger release – jiggling with it to try to make it less sensitive. "Twelve on the outside. Can you hold it together that long?"

"Sun sets in less than ten hours. Bianca said Wyatt was planning to attack as soon as night falls. That gives you an extra two hours for you to find Chris – if we're lucky," Darryl hunched over the map of the terrain surrounding the train station. "I figure we've been damned unlucky so far…we're about due for a break."

Darryl raised his eyes to meet Les' gravely, "Les – we need Chris. His knowledge of the Charmed Ones and their spells…if Ben can't solve this, and you don't make it back before nightfall…we can't fight shadows…"

Slinging the crossbow across his shoulders, Les began to carefully inspect each arrow. Satisfied, Les shoved the last arrow into its holder. Picking it up, he met Darryl's eyes, his own filled with determination, "We'll make it back. I swear."

Darryl nodded, preferring not to voice the alternative. "Good luck."

"Thanks. I think I'm going to need all the luck I can get."


Damn this mud,
Chris thought dispiritedly as he cautiously trekked across the swamp-like clearing, it sticks to everything. He looked down at his shoes. He sighed; equal parts irritated and discouraged. Near the southern most part of their borders, Chris had emerged from the array of tunnels and sewers that ran beneath the city a scant fifteen minutes ago. He still had another couple of miles to go before he would pass through the dead zone and could use his orbing ability as the spell extended just past the reach of the network of tunnels.

Wyatt's magic had wreaked havoc on the weather, causing endless torrents of rain and storms to rage over the city. It was another reason why Chris had chosen the tunnels and sewers of the city as his base of operations. Protection from the elements was key, and above ground, Chris was experiencing first hand the results of wrong magic that he sometimes forgot.

At least it's not still raining, he thought, trying to cheer himself up. However, from the puddles on the ground and the abundance of mud, it seemed that the rain had only recently let up.

The hair on his arms stood up, reinforcing the feeling that something was watching him. Not for the first time, he wondered at the lack of demons in the area. More often than not, Wyatt turned his minions loose to scour the areas near their borders, searching for Resistance fighters trying to make their way back to base.

Maybe I'm just lucky, he thought to himself. Maybe it's their day off.

He snorted softly to himself.

As he continued to pick his way across, his mind flew over the events of the past few days. The crisis with the water supply, Sheila's death, Bianca's betrayal…I sure know how to pick 'em, Chris thought sourly to himself. Saying I was having a crappy week must be the understatement of the year!

How had things come to such a head? It wasn't like he could claim that he hadn't been aware of the water crisis. Hell, they'd known over a month ago things were heating up. But Sheila's death had thrown him – as naïve as that sounded. There is no such thing as war without loss, Chris thought grimly. Did I really think everyone I cared about would come through unscathed? I was a fool – first mom, then the rest of the family. Why did I think things would ever change?

And Bianca. Her betrayal had stung. It had hurt more than he cared to admit. He'd thought there had been a connection between them…a mutual attraction. Maybe a potential for…something more.

Obviously it had been one-sided. His.

Or maybe she's like those black widow spiders, Chris thought humourlessly, who kill their mates. Or is that a praying mantis? Or both? Either way, his track record in the dating department was beginning to resemble his aunt Phoebe's. Great, he thought sarcastically, I couldn't inherit premonitions from my gene pool. I had to inherit the 'dating' gene. He smiled grimly at his black humour.

Whatever. Christ, Chris – concentrate! He laughed to himself hollowly, Now I'm talking to myself in third person…they say the first sign of insanity…

Finally, Chris felt his stomach drop, a tell tale sign that he'd clear the dead zone. Glancing over his shoulder one last time and spotting no one, he took a deep breath and orbed out.

As his blue orbs disappeared, a group of demons shimmered into sight. One of them asked, out loud, "This the place?"

Another shook his head, pointing with his finger, "Almost there. Zankou wants us stationed on that hill over there."

"Then let's get moving, maggots," snarled the leader. "And get ready to rumble."


They weaved through the tunnels at a brisk pace; Bianca setting a relentless pace. Les didn't complain – he was just as anxious to clear the dead zone so Bianca could shimmer them to Wyatt's stronghold. He looked down at his watch again, the backlight illuminating the face of the clock.

Six hours till sunset…

"You know," Bianca said, conversationally, interrupting Les' thoughts, "you don't need to follow behind me so closely."

She must have eyes in the back of her head, Les glared at her back, a little surprised at her observation – she hadn't even turned around to deliver it. How had she known I was watching her so closely? To cover his surprise, Les replied rather gruffly, "Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"

"Whatever."

Silence fell between them again. After a couple of minutes, Les couldn't take it anymore. Giving in to his curiosity, he asked, "Why did you come back?"

"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you."

"Why don't you try me?" Les countered.

Bianca sighed. "I came back because…once I knew what Wyatt was planning…what he was going to do…it would be a massacre. And I…and I couldn't let that happen. Not if it was in my power to stop it."

"Do you honestly expect me to believe that?" Les scoffed. "You're an assassin. You massacre people all the time!"

She stopped so abruptly that Les found himself bumping into her. Whipping her head around, she gave him a narrow eyed look, "I may be an assassin, but I've never participated in a massacre. Not only is it gluttonous, it's inefficient and it's overkill."

"Great," Les snorted, "so if it ever becomes efficient, you'll have a whole new line of work."

"Look, I never pretended that I had a complete change of heart suddenly overnight," Bianca snapped. "My reasons are my own. As long as the intel is good, why should you care?"

"I care because I won't have you yanking my friend's chain," Les replied, his tone deadly.

Bianca's eyebrow lifted, "He's an adult. He can judge for himself."

Les shook his head, "Not when it comes to trusting people. Bottom line – Chris is one of those rare individuals who refuses to see what's looking them in the eye. He'll believe the best of everyone until you unequivocally prove him wrong. And by then, sometimes it's too late."

"You're talking about Wyatt," Bianca guessed, her voice soft.

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am," Les nodded to himself. "For the longest time, Chris didn't believe Darryl that Wyatt was evil. He couldn't. It took…a lot for him to accept it. It…he was devastated."

"I can see how that could be," Bianca mused.

"I still don't think he fully accepts it in his heart of hearts," Les shrugged. "You think something like that – when your brother is evil personified, would change Chris' outlook. But he's struggled to hold onto that..." Les broke off, searching for the word to describe.

"Faith," Bianca agreed quietly. "It's one of the first things I noticed about him."

Les shook his head slightly, "He's lost that, now, I think. It's why he's finally brought himself to go after Wyatt."

"Par for the course when your brother is the ruler of all evil, I'd imagine," Bianca replied, dryly. "But it's why we need to stop him. That faith…it's what makes him strong. Makes Chris…Chris."

"You care about him," Les said abruptly, his tone almost accusatory. "It comes through your thoughts. Even though I'm not reading your mind…I can feel the emotions behind your words when you say his name. I can only do that when the emotions are strong."

Taken aback at the swift change in topic, Bianca blinked before replying honestly, "Yes."

"I don't think you're good for him," Les stated, his tone clipped.

"Probably not," Bianca agreed, her tone defensive.

"But you still want to help him."

"It's not like I have much choice in the matter," Bianca snapped. "Something in me…I have to help him."

"He doesn't feel the same way about you. How could he? You're a cold blooded killer," Les replied, rather cruelly. "You should know…he never will."

Bianca flinched as his barb found its target. She was glad that her back was to Les; she refused to let him see how much he had hurt her. "It doesn't matter."

"Just so we're clear."

"Oh," Bianca replied, grimly. "we're clear. Believe me. We're crystal clear."


He reformed less than a mile away from Wyatt's stronghold. Ducking quickly behind the remains of a stone building, he cautiously peered over the top. Still nothing. Where the hell are all the demons?

The lack of demon activity was beginning to freak him out. Obviously, there was something going on, but what? A trap? It's too late now, anyways, Chris thought. I've come all this way…I'm not turning back now just because I've got a 'feeling'.

His eyes scanned the deserted road leading into the area he wanted to go. Thunderclouds overhead seemed to concentrate on one building in particular. The only building still left standing.

Wyatt's stronghold.

A chill crept down his spine. The concentration of the dark clouds was unnatural to say the least. Then again, he could have said that of most things lately.

At last spying what he was looking for, Chris scrambled from around his hiding place, staying low to the ground. Kicking the manhole cover aside, he beamed his flashlight into the darkness. He nodded in grim satisfaction, dropping his heavy duffel bag first into the sewer and then quickly following it down, clambering down the ladder and replacing the cover overhead.

Dropping lightly to his feet the last couple of metres, he landed in a puddle, the water splashing onto the cuffs of his jeans. Ignoring the dampness, he scooped up his duffel bag, slinging it across his shoulder and took off at a dead run.

With only his flashlight and relying on his memory of the underground sewers, Chris weaved his way through the intricate layout of tunnels. Above ground, it would have been a straight mile. Under ground, well, sometimes you had to head north to eventually wind up west.

Every couple of turns or so, he would stop and dig out a piece of chalk from his pockets, marking the tunnels. While he was pretty sure he knew were he was going, the chalk would make sure he didn't double back, or worse, run around in circles.

He slowed his pace as he began to approach the tunnel that would lead him to the maintenance entrance to Wyatt's stronghold. Switching his flashlight off, he waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Flickering lights from the neon gas lamps provided a somewhat dim view of the tunnel ahead. Dropping to his knees, he dug his hand blindly into his duffel bag, his hand closing around a couple of glass vials. Pulling the vanquishing potions from the depths of the bag, he tucked them into his pockets before resuming forward.

In the distance he head some disgruntled grunting. Flattening himself against the edge of the tunnel, he inched himself closer to the sound. The tunnel curved slightly, preventing Chris, and Wyatt's guard, from seeing each other. Pausing, Chris held his breath as the grumbling increased in its intensity. Chris watched the opposite wall, as the shadow of the guard came into view. It then retreated, and the grunting noises also decreased in volume. The guard was obviously pacing back and forth.

At least there's only one guard, Chris hoped as he continued to strain his eyes and ears for any sign of another one. Readying the potions in his right hand, he thought, Only one shot at this…

As the shadow of the demon loomed huge once again, Chris leapt out from his hiding place, throwing the vials containing the vanquishing potions at the startled demon. Before the demon could open its mouth to sound the alarm, it burst into flames, leaving behind a scorched mark on the floor.

Chris waited.

When no one attacked him, he breathed a sigh of relief. There had been only one guard and he'd vanquished it before the demon had a chance to alert his buddies. Must be my lucky day, Chris thought, a little ironically.

Grabbing his duffel bag once again, he stood in front of the latticed entrance that the demon had been so poorly guarding. Wrapping his fingers through the holes in the mesh wire, he carefully lifted the metal gate just enough to allow him to slip through. Stuffing his bag through the opening he quickly followed it, sliding through sideways into the maintenance tunnel.

Slightly hunched over, he picked up his bag in one hand and began to quickly move towards the centre of the building. He didn't know if the demon had a check in time, but he was sure as hell hoping he'd be gone before anyone noticed that demon was no longer manning his post.

All right, Wyatt. Chris thought grimly. I think it's about high time for a family reunion.


"We can't fight what we can't see," Duncan said, quietly.

Locked in the small meeting room, the two men bleakly studied the map of the area. Little blue counters were placed in clumps on the map. Darryl scowled, though not at Duncan, but rather at the doomed situation, "We don't have a choice. If we don't win this one – Wyatt will have a stranglehold on us. It'll only be a matter of time before we run out of water completely."

Duncan shook his head slowly, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "So what do we do? We don't even know where Wyatt will place his demons. How can we even possibly come up with a counter attack?"

Damn it, Sheila. I wish you were here. Darryl studied the map, his eyes slowly roving over the small notations, taking notice of the terrain. An idea began to form as he continued to stare at the crinkled paper, "We hold our side of the ravine only. We don't even attempt to take the train station, not without Chris. It's too risky. We'll reinforce our defences here, here and here."

Duncan nodded, watching as Darryl stabbed his fingers at several places on the map, "I get it. Even though Wyatt's got his forces cloaked, strategically, there are only three areas where it makes sense for him to try and break through our lines."

"Correct," Darryl answered. "If we could see where the demons were concentrated, we could focus our defences there. But since we can't, we'll be spread a bit thin since the points are so far apart."

"That's an understatement and you know it. We're outnumbered as it is. Even if we only concentrate our focus on those three points, wherever Wyatt eventually launches the attack, it'll be suicide for whoever's holding that point. By the time the other two teams realize where Wyatt's attacking, it'll be too late…" Duncan retorted.

Either we go in, impossible odds and all, or we lose the war…Darryl closed his eyes for a moment, "But it will buy us enough time to get the other two teams to get there to hold them off. We lose the team on the point, but we win the stalemate." War is a waste. It's my job to keep it to a minimum.

Duncan swallowed, staring at Darryl, saying hoarsely, "We'll lose half of our people."

If we're lucky, we might be able to get out with only a thirty percent loss – except that these aren't just numbers we're talking about, or the counters we use to plan. Those numbers represent people. Our people. Darryl opened his eyes, meeting Duncan's anguished gaze, "It's necessary."

Seeing the cold logic and pain in Darryl's eyes, Duncan nodded painfully before turning to take his leave. "I'll gather the troops. Tell them the plan. And the odds."

The door shut behind him, leaving Darryl alone in the room.

Come on, Les. Find Chris. We're all counting on you…
"How much further?" Les wanted to know.

After clearing the dead zone, Bianca had shimmered them as close as she dared to Wyatt's stronghold. Sticking to the underground, they had hoped to catch sight of Chris, to no avail. The corridor that would eventually connect to the building's maintenance tunnel was dark and damp, the lighting barely serviced by the flickering gas lights running along the crease in the ceiling.

"How old are you, ten?" Knowing he couldn't see her expression from behind, Bianca rolled her eyes heavenward. Please give me patience…

"I'm just trying to figure out how far behind we are from Chris," Les pointed out.

"He's got more than four hours on us," Bianca snapped. "How far behind do you think we are?"

"Any sign of him?" Les asked, looking over his shoulder cautiously.

Touching her hand to the wall, she pulled it back, studying her fingers. "Maybe."

"What is it?"

Rubbing her fingers together, she felt the gritty texture of the white substance. "I think it's chalk."

"Chalk? Why would chalk be on the walls?" Les watched as Bianca sniffed her fingers. As she opened her mouth and dabbed her finger lightly against her tongue, Les cringed, disgusted. "That's disgusting! I can't believe you just did that!"

"Definitely chalk," she confirmed as she wiped her fingers on the back of her jeans. "He must be marking his way."

"At least we know we're heading in the right direction. So we must be right on his tail, right?"

Cutting to the right at the next fork, she held up her hand suddenly, whispering, "Shhhh! There should be a guard just up ahead."

Cautiously, Bianca began to creep forward, her eyes and ears peeled for any sign of the demon sentry. As she rounded the corner, she stopped abruptly, surprised. Not expecting Bianca to stop so suddenly, Les ran right into her. "Ouch!"

"Sorry," Les said, a little sheepishly as Bianca gave him an evil glare. "What? Why'd you stop?"

"There should be a demon posted here, guarding this entrance," Bianca waved at the gated corridor leading into the maintenance tunnel. "This is the weak point."

Shrugging, Les looked around before saying, "Maybe he's on break."

Ignoring her companion's inane chatter, Bianca narrowed her eyes, slowly running her gaze over every inch of the area, looking for clues. Her eyes alighted on a scorch mark on the floor, and dropping down, she cautiously reached out to touch the darkened mark on the ground.

Crouching down next to her, Les eyed the spot dubiously, "Is that a scorch mark? Or a gas leak?"

"Only one way to find out," Bianca lifted her shoulder negligently, bringing her hand back to her mouth and touching her index finger to her tongue. She spat. "Yep, definitely a scorch mark."

"What? Do you just go around randomly tasting things?" Les exclaimed, staring at the assassin in horror. He sputtered, "Not only was that totally unhygienic, but…that was disgusting!"

Rolling her eyes, Bianca stood up, brushing her hands on her pants, "At least now we know it's a scorch mark, idiot. And we know that Chris must have passed through here."

Still shuddering with disgust, Les straightened as well. "It's still disgusting."

Turning away from him, Bianca moved towards the gated entrance. Cautiously testing the mesh wire for booby traps, she reassured herself it was 'safe.' She laced her fingers through the holes and moved the lattice gently to one side, peering into the darkness, trying to get a better read. "Don't be such a baby. Come on. Let's go."

Without waiting for him to respond, she quickly entered the darkened corridor, disappearing into the darkness. Cursing, Les fumbled for his flashlight, training it on the back of the assassin, watching as she quickly receded into the tunnel. Muttering a prayer under his breath, Les heaved a sigh, and leapt in after her.

I just hope we're not too late…
He was tired.

The spell had taken more out of him that he had thought. But it was done. A success! Satisfaction flowed through his veins. There was nothing he couldn't do.

Breathing heavily, he slowly moved towards a nearby chair. Exhausted but exhilarated, he sank into the deep cushions, his eyes closing as he sought to regain his strength.

With a flick of his wrist, he dimmed the lights, letting the room fall into grey darkness, the only light source coming from the nearby window. The sunlight filtered through the clouds and streamed into the room weakly, barely showcasing the furniture.

He knew he should be among the demons, giving orders and commanding his troops, but he needed to recover first. Use of magic, especially the excessive amount he had just used to complete the cloaking spell, drained the user of energy. And although he was the twice blessed and had the ability to heal himself, even he was bound by the physics of magic.

Wyatt was also well aware that if he appeared in front of his underlings now in his weakened state, it was more than likely they would attempt to overthrow him. If there was one thing he had learned as ruler of all evil, it was always to present himself as a position of power.

He slumped further down in his chair, staring outside the nearby window but not seeing anything. Bored and frustrated, he brooded. The spell had been harder than anything he had ever tried before. His joints ached, his eyelids were heavy and his strength waned.

His breathing slowed. He stretched slightly, relaxing.

Almost nonchalantly, he remarked out loud, "I was wondering when you would finally show up."

Chris stepped out from his hiding place in the shadows behind his brother.

"Hello, Wyatt."


"If I didn't know they were there, I'd swear there was nothing there," Duncan murmured, peering through a pair of binoculars.

Though Wyatt's spell had cloaked the movement of the demons from their sight, their witches were able to sense the concentration of magic. If they were right, the demons would run into something nasty that wasn't suppose to be there pretty soon. He'd had Quentin out there with his team, diverting water from a stream into the meadows, turning it into a marshy swamp. An illusion of a green meadow overlaid on top of the waist deep pit of muck, Darryl could only hope that they could lure the demons into a charge right into the middle of it. It would take the luck of a leprechaun for the demons to charge just so, Darryl thought humourlessly. Maybe I should get Riley to rub his clover or something.

It was a little eerie, looking out at an empty landscape, being well aware that it was anything but empty.

"Are Michael and DJ ready?" Darryl asked, for the umpteenth time.

"As ready as they'll ever be," Duncan replied, his eyes trained on the plains in front of them.

"What about Slick and Zach? Are they in position?"

Duncan nodded. "Slick's got the right flank, and Zach's positioned with the left."

"And Ben?"

"Everything's in place, Darryl. Either it works or it doesn't. There's nothing more we can do but wait," Duncan said wearily. "We've planned for every possibility. We're prepared for every possibility. Now we wait."

"I was never the sort that was good at waiting," Darryl responded, grimly. He glanced down at this watch.

"He'll be here, Darryl," Duncan said softly, without looking over.

"Huh?"

"That's the fifth time you've looked at your watch in the last hour," Duncan explained, patiently. "We've still got time. Les said they'd be here in time. They'll be here."

Darryl heard the false bravado in Duncan's voice, knowing that he needed to believe every word that he'd just spoken. Staring at the position of the sun in the sky, Darryl could feel the fear creep into his heart. Forcing it back through sheer will, Darryl swallowed hard, feeling the sweat beading on his forehead. Duncan was right. Either it works or it doesn't. Either Les reaches Chris in time or he doesn't. It's out of my hands. Rather than continuing to voice his doubts, Darryl provided Duncan with the words he needed to hear, "I know."

Duncan glanced at Darryl sharply, whose eyes were determinedly focused on the scenery in front of him. Duncan opened his mouth to say something, and then abruptly changed his mind. Instead, he said, merely, "Okay, then."

"If you know any prayers, now might be the time to say them."


To be continued…

Chris does the unexpected, Duncan and Darryl try to hold off Wyatt's demons, and Les and Bianca try to reach Chris to bring him back in time to save their friends…