Disclaimer: Don't own nothin'.
Chapter Eleven
Pete looked beyond anger. His eyes flashed maniacally, and in his hand was an athame.
"Pete, don't," Chris tried to reason calmly. Despite his newfound fear of the man, he looked him square in the face and said, "You don't have to do this."
"I do have to do this!" Pete roared. "It's been too long, Chris," he hissed, taking an exaggerated step closer to the two boys. He looked wild and out of control. "Too long. I've been a part of this for so many years now—I'm NOT going to let a silly little boy ruin it for us!"
"What you're doing isn't right!" Chris yelled back.
"What would you know about right?" Pete demanded. "What in the bloody hell would a kid struck with amnesia EVER know about right and wrong?"
Chris hardened. "Oh. So just because I can't remember everything in my first four years means that I'm stupid and illogical?"
"You needed guidance, and we offered it to you. And now look what you've done with it—thrown it all away!"
"I have done no such thing," Chris laughed. "I'll admit to what you've done for me, Pete. You know what you did? You sent me on a grand, possibly suicidal mission, and it lead me straight to my family."
"Your—what the hell?"
"My family, Pete. The Halliwells are my family! You were the bonehead in all of this. I remember it now—most of it, that is. I remember being a little kid in the massacre, I remember my mom and dad…" He winced at the thought of Piper. "And that's all because of you."
"You're lying," Pete said shakily. The knife was still firm in his hands and he took another step closer, but not nearly as bold as the first one. "There's no way you could be a Halliwell. They're powerful—you're worthless."
"That may very well be," Chris admitted, "but they're my family, nonetheless. And if you do anything—" Chris indicated the knife. "—anything to hurt me, you'll have hell to pay from them."
Pete laughed. "You're great at bluffing, aren't you, Chris? I never thought you, of all people, would be capable of that."
"Chris isn't worthless." Owen stood from the bedside in rage. "You're worthless, but Chris isn't. And neither am I. We're old enough to make our own choices; we're not going to be one of your demonic slaves!"
Chris grinned at Owen. "Thanks."
"Don't thank me. I should've said that a while ago." He turned to Pete again. "And obviously Chris isn't bluffing; he just orbed in here, you buffoon. He orbed into your freaking office. Got an explanation for that?"
Pete let out an enraged animal-like cry, lunging forward. The knife went straight into Chris' stomach. Owen screamed, stepping back. Pete stared at Chris one last time, a hint of remorse in his eyes, before turning his back and fleeing the room.
"Bastard," Chris spat out, clutching his abdomen.
"Chris—we have to do something—"
"No, don't worry. Paige and Wyatt should be coming soon. They said they would if I was here more than five…" He shut his eyes closed tight from the overwhelming pain. "I mean, ten…minutes." He gasped for air, starting to sweat. "I'll be fine, Owen…just…get yourself out of here."
"I'm not leaving without you. I'll be right back—I'm going to look for help."
Chris didn't have the energy to stop him. Owen came running back in a few moments, reporting worriedly, "There's no one here. Everyone's gone."
"Aw, damn…" Chris cursed. "The Halliwells." And watching the blood form into a pool on the ground beneath him, he had a sinking feeling that he wasn't going to see tomorrow.
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Back at the Manor
The chaos was catastrophic.
Just a moment ago, everything had been peaceful. Well, actually, what with Piper infuriated and Chris in danger getting Owen, it was far from peaceful—but plenty peaceful compared to right now.
Wyatt, thankfully, had a shield; he and Paige were underneath that. Paige was orbing other weapons from demons and telekinetically stabbing them while Wyatt sent out energy balls through their barrier. Piper was several yards away, blowing demons up right and left.
Phoebe and Cole, having heard the noise, came running down themselves.
"Where are Mel and Annie?" Paige screamed over the deafening noise.
"Magic School," Cole yelled back, already starting to fight demons with his levitating wife. "We opened the portal."
The Charmed Ones clearly had the upper hand; though the demons were popping up just as fast as they were being vanquished, at least they were all pretty pathetic. The occasional threat came up, but in the end either Piper and Wyatt teamed together to blow it up or Cole sent two fireballs at it simultaneously.
Minutes were ticking by, though they seemed like hours. Something nagged at Wyatt's mind.
"Aunt Paige?" he shouted. "Where's Chris?"
She stopped in the middle of an orb and let the demon's attacks bounce off the shield. "Oh my god, how long has it been?"
"Longer than ten minutes," Wyatt gulped, turning pale. "What happened to him?"
Paige began fighting the demons relentlessly, fueled by a new mission: stop the demons, then get to Chris. Cole and Phoebe and Wyatt seemed to do the same, but Paige couldn't see Piper from behind her so she didn't know if she was even aware of the conflict they faced.
Wyatt's panic began to surface. He'd finally found his brother after ten miserable years of thinking he was dead—what would happen if he died again? Could they even handle it?
No, they wouldn't be able to—not a second time around.
Finally, the last demon showed up. He looked oddly human, and he held a bloodstained knife in his hands. Everyone ceased attacks in horror, looking around the room at each other, but they couldn't figure out who'd been stabbed. They let out a sigh of relief.
"You can kill me," the man said crazily, "but it will do you no good." He began laughing maniacally, throwing back his head. "You can kill me, yes, but the damage is already done. There are more of us…there always will be." His laughter stopped abruptly. "Besides, you're too late. He's probably dead by now."
He held up the knife and smirked.
"NO!" Wyatt screamed, sending a massive energy ball at him.
The man was dead before he hit the ground.
"Chris!" Wyatt cried. "Paige, we have to…"
Paige grabbed his hand, way ahead of him, and orbed down to where she sensed Chris.
In their wake, Piper's eyes filled with tears. "What did that bastard do to him?" she asked softly, shaking.
Phoebe walked over to her and put a comforting hand on her sister's shoulder. "He'll be alright, Piper, I'm sure."
"But what if he isn't?" Piper sobbed. "What if I don't get to say I'm sorry?"
"Then he'll forgive you anyways," Cole said, "because that's just the kind of kid Chris is."
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Chris realized his vision was slipping. He felt like someone was sucking the oxygen out of the room and trying to suffocate him—somewhere, it seemed like miles away, Owen was shaking him, trying desperately to keep him conscious.
But all Chris wanted to do was fall into the blissful darkness, a place where he could feel no pain. Why was Owen denying him the peace he longed for?
"Chris, c'mon…stay with me here. I'm sure someone will be here any minute."
"Bet me?" Chris asked weakly. It hurt tremendously to speak. His whole world seemed to revolve around the ceaseless pain from the stab wound.
"Yeah, I'll bet you…a million dollars, I'll bet you."
Chris nodded. "I'm gonna die."
"No—no you're not!" Owen yelled, shaking him again. "Chris, please—don't die. We need you. I need you, the Halliwells need you…you can't die…"
"I'm sorry," Chris whispered, a tear falling down his cheek.
"No…"
"Tell them…that I said good-bye." The words pierced Chris with pain unimaginable, but he knew it was his last chance. "And that…I love them. And…and thank you for everything, Owen."
"Chris, don't talk like that," Owen begged.
But Owen was powerless to do anything as he watched his best and only friend close his eyes, take in a last shuddering breath, and cease to exist.
A woman and a boy about his age orbed in a second later.
"You're too late…"
TBC...Ooooh, how I DO relish these moments...I'm thinking maybe two more chappies, possibly three, and then it'll be finished.