Special note (please read): This is not a nice chapter. I remind you once again about the story rating.

A/N: Wow – I can't believe I surpassed my word count of 'No Fate'! Thanks to everyone for letting me know my little attempt to inject some comedy garnered a few chuckles. I will confess though that the 'tasting' thing was my homage to a certain TV show from once upon a time.

Charmed Ravenclaw: Regarding Redundant, I will be revisiting it after this one is done…more info on it will be posted with the final chapter of Providence. Thanks for the review and the encouragement.

Zeria: Heh. Interesting theory…but I shall let you read on to find out if you're right. Glad you liked the chapter – thanks for the compliment!

Queen Isa: Not at all. I'm dragging this out to torture everyone. Just kidding. I agree that humour is a difficult emotion to write in fics – hey, it took me 12 chapters before I could get a laugh!

DrewFullerFan: I, too, confess that I think this one's better. Good to know my writing is finally improving rather than deteriorating further.

ShadowDarkNight: Good to hear that you thought the suspense was building well – I was afraid I was making it a bit tedious, so I appreciate the feedback.

Ilovedrew88: Hope this chapter will live up to your expectations. Thanks for the review!

Girl-with-the-green-eyes: Thanks for the feedback – I was wondering if the flip between the two emotions was working so it's great to know it did. Bon voyage!

Icantthinkofafnick: A life of a slug, eh? Hmmm…I think you give me too much credit. Glad you're liking the chapters. Thanks for always taking the time to leave me such extensive feedback.

Sparkling Cherries: I noticed you posted your review before the 'clean' version went up…I hope the horrid formatting didn't throw you too much. Thanks for the review!


Providence

Chapter 13

Wyatt warily watched his brother's slow approach through half lidded eyes. He cursed himself silently, knowing he was in a weakened state. Still exhausted from his recent magic use, Wyatt's breathing was laboured.

"You're not looking so well, brother," Chris drawled as he circled Wyatt from behind, positioning himself directly in front of his brother's gaze.

Wyatt shrugged nonchalantly, "You don't look so well either. A little thinner, perhaps? You should really change that diet of shrubs and berries."

"Why don't you let me worry about my diet?" Chris replied, rather coolly. "You're looking a little peaked there, Wy. You don't have the same excuse. What's the matter? Been using a bit too much magic lately?"

"Nothing I can't handle," Wyatt replied, evenly. He returned Chris' searching look with an arrogant stare, knowing full well he was bluffing.

"Really?" Chris asked sardonically. "Could've fooled me."

Wyatt returned his gaze to the window, his tone dripping with deliberate boredom, "I take it this wasn't a social call?"

"Can't a brother pay a visit to his only family without all the suspicion?" Chris responded, his eyes never leaving Wyatt's face. "We seem to hardly ever see each other any more, do we?"

Wyatt shrugged. "And whose fault is that?"

"Well," Chris drew out the word before releasing his breath. "I'd like to firmly lay that sin at your door. After all, I could hardly invite you over for tea and crumpets after you had our family killed."

"Are you still stuck on that?" Wyatt scoffed disbelievingly. "They were weak. Only the strong survive, Chris. You know that."

"Strong?" Chris snorted. "Don't you mean powerful?"

"Semantics," Wyatt answered, his tone casual. "You say po-tae-toe, I say po-tah-to."

"Do you even hear yourself?" Chris' voice cracked, as his cool façade began to slip. "You're talking about our family. Our family."

"I really don't have time for this," Wyatt shrugged, pretending to study his fingernails. "I have countries to conquer, people to rule, etcetera, etcetera."

"People to kill…" Chris finished, practically spitting each word out.

"If necessary."

"You…" Chris stared at his brother in disbelief. "Do you have any idea what you've done? Who you've hurt? Our family is gone. Aunt Sheila's dead – your demons killed her! You're responsible!"

Wyatt's eyes flickered. "A regrettable, but necessary casualty."

"How…why are you so damned cavalier about it?" Chris sputtered, anger pulsing through his veins, his voice ringing with indignation. "Don't you even care? Didn't they mean anything to you?"

"They shouldn't have gotten in the way," Wyatt eyed his brother. He chided, "Just like I've warned you and Darryl and everyone else to stay out of my way. As your brother, I gave you more than fair warning, Chris."

Chris shook his head at Wyatt's words, uncomprehending. He whispered, almost desperately, "What happened to you?"

"I grew up, Chris," Wyatt retorted. "There's more to life than what our family taught us. There's a whole world out there, ripe for the picking. And it owes us. And I'm going to take what's mine."

"I can't let you do this, Wy," Chris' voice was low. "I thought…we've gone too far now. I can't let you hurt any more people. I can't. This has to stop. This has to stop now."

"You always had to be the good one," Wyatt rolled his eyes, his tone laced with exasperation. "And just how do you propose to stop me? By appealing to my conscience? By begging me to cease? It didn't work for our family, what makes you think it will work for you?"

Letting out a shuddering breath, Chris shook his head, his forelock temporarily covering his eyes. Reaching into his back pocket, his fingers wrapped tightly around the handle, swiftly bringing the athame into sight.

"Because I intend to kill you."


"The sun is setting."

That grim observation came from Darryl's right, as Duncan continued to peer through the binoculars trained on the opposite side of the ravine. Silently acknowledging Duncan's comment with a swift nod, Darryl looked down at his watch again.

Less than one hour to go…Les, where are you?

A voice broke through the silence.

"I demand to speak with him! Darryl! Darryl!"

Swiftly turning in the direction of the newcomer, Darryl waved off his team, "Let him pass," Darryl nodded at the Elder. "What can I do for you, Odin?"

Jerking his robes straight, the indignant Elder replied huffily, "This isn't right. You can't just make decisions without consulting the Council."

Darryl turned his back on the Elder, hunkering back down into his position, "I don't have time for this bureaucratic nonsense."

"If you want our help, you'll make time. Why the hell did you even bother setting up a Council if you're not even going to bother to inform us of what's happening?"

Fed up with the whining and complaining, Darryl rounded on Odin, his tone deadly, "You think I need your permission to run ops? This is a military operation. I don't need your permission or anyone else's to save lives. Now why don't you crawl back into whatever hole you came from and let me do my job."

"Military operation or not, you have a duty to inform the Council of your plans. This isn't a one man show, Darryl," Odin lectured, earning him annoyed stares from the Resistance fighters within earshot.

"Go to hell. I told Chris that his idea was a stupid waste of time," Darryl muttered in an aggravated tone.

"If it's a waste of time, it's because you didn't even give his idea a chance," Odin shot back.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You think I didn't notice how you resented establishing the Council? How you didn't take any of us seriously and were completely dismissive of any ideas that were contrary to your own? It's no wonder we've been ineffective – you don't even respect our ideas!" Odin sputtered, waving his arms around to emphasize his point.

Annoyed, Darryl decided to give the Elder a piece of his mind. "And maybe if you pulled your head out of your ass every once and a while, I'd be more inclined to listen! People are dying out here, Odin! And all you, the Elders and your little clan of whitelighters do is sit on your hands and just watch it happen everyday. You take shelter behind your pathetic pacifist beliefs and leave the dirty work to the rest of us! Well, maybe Chris can look the other way, but if you want some respect, in my book you have to earn it. And until then, you're just another bureaucrat who's getting in my way."

"Chris would at least listen to us," Odin hissed.

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, Chris isn't here. And when Chris isn't here, I'm in charge. So you can either step up to the plate or you can get the hell out of my way. Your choice." Darryl stared at the Elder, his gaze determined and steady.

Odin tried to maintain Darryl's stare, but eventually let his eyes slide away, "Chris will hear about this when he gets back."

"I'm sure he will," Darryl replied, before continuing dismissively, "Are we finished here? Because in case you haven't noticed, I'm kind of busy right now trying to save your ass."

Knowing he wasn't going to be able to pursue his position any further, Odin gave Darryl a curt nod before turning on his heel and striding away without another word.

"Man, that guy is a piece of work," Duncan shook his head.

Watching Odin's back disappear around the corner, Darryl turned back to focus his attention on the matter at hand. "Never mind him. We've got bigger fish to fry."


Wyatt's eyes widened, "You can't kill me. You can't."

Chris took a menacing step forward, "I can do whatever I have to."

Gripping the arms of his chair, Wyatt hoisted himself out of his seat with considerable effort. Still too god damned weak. "Chris – think about what you're about to do. Can you really harm your own flesh and blood?"

"Can you?" Chris shot back, taking another step forward. His green eyes flashed angrily, "Do you think I wanted it to come to this? Why the hell did you think it took me so long to come looking for you? How long did you think that I was just going to look the other way?"

Stumbling, Wyatt reached out behind himself blindly, his hands finding the smooth wood of the oak table beneath. Supporting himself against the heavy furniture, he continued to back away slowly, his steps laboured, his breathing heavy. "You don't want to do this, Chris."

"No, no I don't," Chris took another step. "I hate that it's come to this. I thought…I thought maybe it was all a mistake. That everything you were doing…I told myself it was all just a big misunderstanding…"

"But it is, Chris," Wyatt puffed, perspiration beading on his forehead as he continued to force his weary body backwards. "It is a misunderstanding. Don't you see? Don't you get it? Everything they told us was a lie. It's not our destiny to help those who can't even help themselves. We have the power – why the hell should we be their lackeys?"

Chris shook his head, "Maybe it's not our destiny. And maybe we have the power. But we have responsibilities. We have a duty. To our families. To our friends."

"Oh, please," Wyatt snorted in disgust. "The only responsibility we have is to ourselves, little brother. That was always your problem – putting others before yourself, just like the rest of our family. And for what? Did the Elders ever appreciate it? Did they ever thank us?"

"It's not about being appreciated, Wy," Chris said sadly. "Can't you see that?"

"All I see is I'm tired of running around at their beck and call. It's time to look out for number one. Me. And the Elders and everyone else can go to hell for all I care," Wyatt shouted back between deep breaths.

Chris advanced another step, "And me? I can go to hell as well?"

"It doesn't have to be this way, Chris. You could join me. Be my right hand man," Wyatt coaxed. "We're brothers. We always have been. We always will be. You and me. We're family. Nothing changes that."

Chris laughed hollowly, almost bordering on hysteria, "Is that what you said to our family before you had them killed?"

"Chris," Wyatt replied, warningly. "Don't do something you're going to regret."

Chris shook his head again. "I thought I could save you. I thought…I thought if I waited long enough, you'd come to your senses. But more and more people keep dying. There's no reasoning with you, is there?"

"My senses?" Wyatt choked, disbelieving. "I'm the one that makes sense here, Chris. I'm the one that finally put a stop to our family's tradition of being slaves to the Elders. I'm the one who's going to make sure the Halliwell name goes down in history!"

"For what? As a murderer and a killer of innocents? There's a family history to be proud of," Chris retorted, sarcastically. "I didn't want it to come to this, but you leave me no choice. I have to stop you. This can't go on any longer."

"And what would mom think about what you're about to do?" Wyatt countered. "What would mom say?"

Something seemed to strike a nerve in Chris, and he launched himself forward, colliding with his brother, bringing them both tumbling down to the floor. "You don't get to say her name. You don't get to say her name!"

Struggling, Wyatt feebly tried to push his brother off him, but to no avail. Looking up into his younger brother's berserk eyes, he felt for the first time in a very long time a hint of fear. Would Chris really kill me? The knife glinted in his peripheral vision, and he closed his eyes, gritting his teeth in anticipation as the steel blade came down hard.

Thunk!

He opened one eye. Turning his head slightly, Wyatt could see that the athame was buried about five inches deep in the floor next to his head. Slowly, he swiveled his head to meet his brother's gaze. Chris' tortured eyes stared down into his brother's, and for a moment, neither moved.

"You can't kill me…" Wyatt's voice was filled with wonder. "After all that holier than thou preaching, all that do-gooder shit…you can't kill me," Wyatt began to laugh condescendingly. "You pathetic, son of a bitch…"

Anger flashed through Chris' eyes, and his right hand clenched in a fist, ready to drive it into his brother's face, "Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

Gathering the last of his waning magical strength, Wyatt focused and using his powers, he threw Chris off, sending him flying across the room. Chris hit the opposite wall, a sharp crack sounding as the back of his head made hard contact with the wall before his body slid down in a crumpled heap onto the floor.

Still breathing heavily and feeling dizzy, Wyatt forced himself into an upright sitting position, eyeing his brother's inert body warily. Slowly, he began to crawl, pulling himself along the floor towards the door. He was still too weak…he needed a couple of hours to fully recover and he wasn't sure how long Chris would remain unconscious.

A slight groan from the other side of the room made Wyatt glance back over his shoulder at Chris as he continued to drag himself along the ground.

The door burst open.

Shit!


"Are you certain you know where you're going?"

Bianca stifled the urge to strangle her companion, whispering fiercely, "Keep your voice down!" Cautiously poking her head out around the corner, she quickly pulled back before she was spotted. "We've got two demons guarding the main corridor that leads to Wyatt's private quarters."

Les frowned, "Are you absolutely certain that's where Wyatt would be?"

Bianca shrugged, "It's my best guess. For Wyatt to cast that cloaking spell, he'd want the security and privacy of his own rooms while he recovers his strength. I'd said odds are pretty good that that's where he is. And wherever Wyatt is, that's where we'll find Chris."

"Two guards, you say?" Les waited for Bianca to nod in confirmation. "Here's the thing, though," Les continued, "If Wyatt is in his quarters, and Chris is with Wyatt, and those two demons are guarding the only way in, how'd Chris get past them?"

Leaning forward again slightly to venture another look, Bianca studied the scene for a minute before flattening herself against the wall again. "I'm guessing he slipped by. It looks like their patrolling the entire corridor. There's a slight bend in the hallway. When they reach the other end of the hall, the curve should be just enough to prevent them from keeping a full view of the corridor. If we stick to the right side of the hall, we should be able to make a dash for it at the right moment and avoid detection."

Taking his own glance around the corner, Les hissed, "That's quite a lot of ifs, you know."

"You got a better idea?" Bianca glared, "I thought not. All right. On the count of three, you follow me, comprehendez?" At Les' nod, she peeked out again, keeping a close eye on the demons, "One…two…three!"

Darting out, Bianca quickly rounded the corner, with Les on her heels. The two dashed across the few metres, rounding a second corner to disappear into the wing that held Wyatt's quarters with the demons none the wiser. Thanking whatever luck was on their side, she silently gestured to Les to continue to follow her, leading him down the darkened hallway. Taking another fork to the right, she stayed pressed against the side of the wall. Stopping at the first door, she pressed her ear to it, listening. Hearing nothing, she continued moving down the hall to the next one. Waving her hand at Les, she indicated for him to do the same.

She was about to try her fourth door, when she noticed Les had stopped a ways back. Glancing over her shoulder back at him, she nodded in response to his wild gestures. Edging her way back, she cupped her hand around her ear and pressed it against the door. Exchanging an alarmed look with him, the two were startled out of their stillness. Before Les could say another word, Bianca grabbed at the door knob and shoved the door open with her shoulder, stumbling into the room.

"Chris!"


Out of time and out of luck, Darryl though grimly.

Bolts of energy cris-crossed overhead, as the two sides traded magical artillery back and forth. Explosions erupted around him, adding to the fiery orange of the sky at dusk. The first wave of attacks had started.

And they were fighting shadows.

Blasts of heat and fire could be felt from his position in the trenches. Their defences were futilely trying to return fire. Futilely because they couldn't see what they were aiming at...adding to the confusion, attacks had been piecemeal, savage but seemingly unconnected. At least if the attacks were focused from one area, we'd know where to concentrate our fire, Darryl thought. But it's too piecemeal. I have no fucking idea where to concentrate our defences!

The high pitched whine of an incoming fireball was the only warning they got. Hurled into the trench, the explosion smashed into the section just to the left of Darryl, sending up a geyser of dirt and burning embers. Screams and shouts arose from the fighters, as one side of trench began to collapse, the earth rapidly flooding into the ditch and burying several men alive.

"Get them out of there!" Darryl shouted, waving his hand at one of the team leaders closet to the collapsed section. "Dig them out!"

A group of Resistance fighters frantically began searching through the dirt, digging with their hands and whatever tools were available, as they desperately sought their buried comrades. Darryl turned his face away from the grisly scene, and cursed as ground shook violently beneath his feet. Darryl yelled, signalling Duncan, "Hit the deck!"

Smoke rose all around, the steady impact of the explosions lifting a cloud of dirt, temporarily veiling Darryl's sight of the battlefield. Covering his nose with his sleeve, he could feel his eyes water as the dust and smoke irritated his eyes. The thundering of the explosions grew in intensity and frequency…indicating to Darryl that the demons had stepped up the assault.

"What do we do, Darryl?" Duncan yelled to be heard over the firefight. "What do we do?"

Knowing Duncan was bordering on panic, Darryl gave the only answer he knew, "Tell everyone to hold their position!"


"Chris!"

Chris looked up from his prone position on the floor, his head pounding. Gently touching the back of his head, he winced as his fingers found a tender spot, "What?"

Bianca rushed over, wrapping her arms around Chris' torso to help him into a sitting position with Les' crossbow still trained on her. "Would you aim that thing someplace else, already?"

"And where exactly do you think I should aim it?" Les asked, sardonically. He paled as he followed the direction of Bianca's nod, finally noticing Wyatt on the opposite side of the room. "Holy shit!"

Struggling to his feet with the support of Bianca, Chris jerked himself away from the assassin as soon as he found his bearings. He ignored the hurt look in her expression, his heart hardening, "What the fuck are you two doing here?"

"We came to get you," Bianca said, softly. "The Resistance needs you. Now."

His eyes zeroed in on Wyatt's, who stared back defiantly. "I'll be right out. My brother and I have a bit of business to settle."

Wyatt sneered, "You can't kill me, Chris. You never could."

"Shut the fuck up," Les ordered, looking through his sights at the fallen man. "He may not be able to, but I sure as hell can."

Wyatt glared at Les, "You would dare?"

"Les!" Chris warned, before Les could retort. "Wait outside. This is between Wyatt and me."

Snapping his mouth shut, Les turned to look at Chris, "Chris. Wyatt's cast some sort of spell. The demons are cloaked. We can't see them. They're trying to take the train station. We need to get out of here and back to the train station. Now."

Chris shook his head, "I need to finish this."

Bianca placed a hand on Chris' shoulder, "Les is right. We need to get out of here. Now. Your friends can't fight what they can't see. They need you to break the spell."

"I said, I need to finish this," Chris jerked his shoulder away from her touch.

"You don't want to do this, Chris," Bianca tried to reason with him. "You know you don't."

"He's right, Chris. You don't want to do this. I know you. You won't be able to live with yourself if you do this. No matter what else, he's still your brother," Les reasoned.

Chris looked at Les incredulously, "You want us to just leave?"

Les shook his head, "I want you to leave. Leave Wyatt to me. Go. Get out of here – go break the spell. Our friends need you."

Bianca watched silently at the tug of war between the two friends over Wyatt's fate, "We don't have time for this. His demons could find us any minute!"

Chris shook his head. "He won't call for them. Not when he's still weak, will you Wyatt?"

Getting to his feet slowly, perspiration dripping down his face and pooled on the floor. "I don't need my demons to protect me, if that's what you're asking," Wyatt said in a deadly tone, the implied threat of which was lost due to the enormous effort it obviously took him to stand up. "I can take care of all of you by myself."

Waving his hand, Chris used his telekinesis to smack his brother against the wall. He watched coldly as Wyatt crumpled to the floor in an exhausted heap. "Why don't you have a seat? This could take a while."

"Chris, the spell," Les urged, alarmed at the coldness in Chris' eyes. "We gotta go."

"Wait outside," Chris ordered, his eyes never leaving his brother's body. "This is my responsibility."

"Chris –," Les tried again.

"I said, wait outside."

Whatever Les saw in Chris' face, convinced him that there was no reasoning with him. "Fine. I'll stand guard outside. But just remember – we need to get out of here, now. We don't have time for petty sibling rivalry." His voice short, Les left, shutting the door behind him softly.

Striding forward with long, confident strides, Chris wrapped his fist around Wyatt's collar, pulling him into a sitting position. Positioning the knife against his brother's throat, he said impassively, "Break the spell. Now."

Wyatt spat in Chris' face. "Go to hell."

Smashing his fist into Wyatt's face, Chris replied, "You first." Pressing the athame deeper against Wyatt's skin, a small bead of blood began to form on Wyatt's neck. "Break the spell. Or I'll cut your throat."

"You can't kill me," Wyatt laughed in disbelief. "You promised mom. Do you remember? Do you?"

Chris' hand shook. "I remember."

"Go ahead then. Kill me," Wyatt taunted, his eyes mocking. "You can't, can you?"

Chris looked down into his brother's triumphant eyes, seeing his mother's reflected back at him. I promised. I promised Mom that family always comes first. Always. So where does that leave me?

Wyatt laughed so hard, he almost choked, "You're pathetic."

Chris sat back on his heels. "You're right. I can't kill you. But I can make you break that spell. And I will."

And for the first time, Wyatt looked at Chris in real fear.


"Hold your position!" Quentin yelled, as he tried to make himself heard over the commotion.

The firefight was brutal; the ground shook and trembled, swords flashed, arrows flew and men died. Cut off from the other teams, Quentin couldn't make sense of the chaotic scene playing out in front of him. As the thundering of the explosions inched closed, he knew that the demons were pushing forward.

Leaping up from his crouching position, he let out a yell and charged forward, knowing his team would follow him. Pushing the rising fear in his throat back down, he swung his sword blindly, hoping that it would connect with something…anything.

It did.

Acting instinctively, he guessed the demon's approximate position. His eyes focused on the dirt beneath, seeing the dust kicked up by the demon's movements. He watched the footwork carefully, blocking blindly, knowing that at any moment, the demon could make a move he couldn't guess….

His sword rang with a metal clang! as it connected with the enemy's. Swinging wildly, he fought with a fury that he'd never felt before. He jumped back and thrust his sword threatening in front of him.

Luck was with him.

His sword connected with something soft, and gritting his teeth, Quentin pushed his sword through, hearing the death knell of the demon's scream as he yanked his weapon free.

Gasping heavily, he looked around him. As most battles did, the formations had dissolved into smaller, ugly skirmishes around the field. It seemed like his team would valiantly surge forward and then fall back before pushing forward again. All he knew was that they had to hold their position.

Raising his arm to rally his team, Quentin opened his mouth to give the command.

Pain!

Quentin fell to the ground.

Transfixed by arrows, he resembled a human pincushion. His clothes absorbed the blood from his wounds, forming rapidly growing circles whose circumferences increased at a frightening rate. White, hot pain seared through his veins. He lay unmoving on the ground, helpless as he watched his friends continue to be cut down where they stood, falling all around him. Racked with agony, he was unable to move or even cry for help. All he could do was lie there, each shuddering breath sending tremendous pain shooting along his nerve endings.

He knew he was dying. Sweating, he closed his ears against the pitiful cries that filled the air from his fallen comrades. He was going to die alone, in this god-forsaken place…and he sought comfort in the only way he knew. He closed his eyes…

Our father, who art in heaven…
Bianca watched all of this unfold in front of her. One look at Chris' face and she knew…she knew

"Chris – let me do this," Bianca coaxed. "You shouldn't have to."

"I can do anything I set my mind to," Chris bit out, angrily.

Bianca didn't back down, "We're talking about torture. Something you've never done before."

"I'm a real fast learner," Chris replied, derisively.

"This isn't something you want to learn," Bianca placed her hand over Chris'. "This isn't something to be taken lightly."

He looked at Bianca defiantly, "I said I'll do it."

"Chris –," Bianca tried one last time.

"If you want me to trust you, you'll do as I say," Chris dismissed, coldly. "Your choice."

Searching his eyes for some sign of wavering, and finding none, Bianca nodded slowly. Her eyes slid over to Wyatt, where outrage warred with anger on his face. She knew the strong emotions he projected were a mask to hide his fear.

She could see it in his eyes.

Oh Chris, she thought sadly, don't you see? There's no going back now. Knowing now why Chris hadn't asked her to leave as he had Les, she took a deep breath. She gazed down into Wyatt's eyes, before driving her fist deep into his chest. "Hold still," she commanded, as she began to drain his powers and effectively holding him in place.

Wyatt gritted his teeth, biting out, "You forget. I know you, Chris. You don't have it in you, little brother."

"Trust me, you're not in any position to know anything," Chris replied. Taking the athame, he stabbed Wyatt in the leg, his face impassive as his brother howled in pain. Bianca flinched as she watched Chris drive the knife deeper, twisting the blade so that it tore his brother's flesh. Blood oozed from the wound, running onto the floor leaving a small pool growing beneath Wyatt's right leg. Chris' voice was harsh, "Break the spell. Now."

"Go to hell. Traitor!" Wyatt gasped, as he struggled weakly beneath Bianca's hold. "I'll kill you myself for this!"

"I going to say it again, break the spell," Chris snapped, his voice dripping with ice. Bianca was alarmed to see that Chris' eyes seemed to gleam with zeal. She watched as Chris pulled the blade free from Wyatt's leg, and with a malicious intent Bianca would never have believed if she hadn't witnessed it herself, Chris brought the knife back down into the same wound.

Wyatt screamed, before biting through his lower lip in pain, his legs kicking out weakly beneath Bianca's vice grip. He was panting heavily, "When I get free…"

Chris gave the knife a quick twist, "I don't have all day. Tell me what I want to know."

Averting her eyes, she was nauseatingly aware of red pulp seeping into the ground underneath them. She had killed many times during her stint as an assassin, but she had never, never, tortured anyone. She didn't have the stomach for it. And she wouldn't have thought Chris did, either. She glanced at Chris' expression; distressed to see his green eyes so dark they appeared almost black.

"I won't ask you again," Chris jerked the knife free none too gently. Blood dripped down the blade onto the floor. Getting up, he strode over to the fireplace, warming the knife. Chris turned back to look at his brother as he removed the knife from the fire and regarded the white hot tip thoughtfully. "Break the spell."

As Chris began to slowly approach him, Wyatt's eyes widened in panicked terror. Gasping, "Fine. Fine! I'll break the damn spell! I'll break it!"

Bianca jerked her fist out of Wyatt's chest. "You heard him. Do it. Now."

Wyatt glared at the assassin as he began to mutter under his breath. Finished, he lay unmoving on the floor, panting. "It's done. This doesn't change anything, you know. Happy now, little brother?"

"Ecstatic," Chris replied, before driving the white hot knife into Wyatt's leg wound.

"Chris," Bianca yanked at his arm as Wyatt howled and then sobbed with pain. "What are you doing?"

Chris stared at Bianca like he had never seen her before. He looked at his brother, writhing on the floor in agony, moaning as tears of pain seeping from his eyes. Chris jerked the knife free and stumbled back at the expression of a hatred so pure it distorted Wyatt's face.

"You son of a bitch," Wyatt said, his tone deathly quiet. "In the end – you're just like me, little brother. You think you're so much better than me. But look at you! Look at yourself! You loved that I was helpless, you loved the power you felt over me, didn't you? You feel it, don't you? Coursing through your veins?" Wyatt laughed maniacally. "You're just like me. You're just like me!"

Les suddenly burst into the room, "Chris – I just made contact with Darryl. The spell's been broken. They need us! We've got to go! Now!" His mouth dropped open as he suddenly realized what was going on. "What the – ?"

"Chris! We need to leave. Now," Bianca grabbed Chris' arm in an attempt to shake him to his senses.

Chris whipped his head around to stare into Bianca's face. His expression could have been chiselled from stone, so stoic and completely impassive. Only his eyes seemed to show any signs of life, boring into hers with an unholy light. Worried that her whispered plea would fall on deaf ears, she pleaded hoarsely, "Chris…Chris, please. You heard Les. We have to go. We…we don't have time for this."

Bianca observed as Chris blinked, seemingly absorbing her words. She saw a flash of something in Chris' eyes, shuttering briefly before they turned a brilliant green. She asked, rather hesitantly, "Chris?"

"You're right," Chris stood up abruptly, his gaze on his brother sprawled on the ground. "We don't have time for this." Ignoring his brother's hysterical laughter, Chris turned his back on his brother.

Without glancing at Les, Chris turned to exit the room, "Come on. We've got friends to save."

"Chris?" Les blanched, keeping his eyes averted from Wyatt who continued to hoarsely laugh uncontrollably. "What about him?"

"When he calms down, he'll heal himself," Chris replied, evenly. "He's always had the ability to heal." Without a backwards glance, Chris exited, with Bianca close behind.

Turning to follow Chris out the room, Les looked over his shoulder one last time at the twice blessed, his mind noticing the bloody mess, Wyatt's wound and Chris' bloody knife.

What the hell just happened?


To be continued….