Hey you guys, thanks for the reviews! It really lifted my spirits for this story. I am so sorry it took so long to update. I was all inspired, so I even wrote out part of the chapter on vacation, and was almost done typing it too, when my computer's hard drive crashed, so I lost all of my work and couldn't get online for a while. So I apologize for the extremely long wait. Hopefully this extra long (and hopefully good) chapter will make up for it.
Sorry, there isn't so much of Bianca in this chapter, except at the end, and will focus more on the relationship of the family. But the rest of the five chapters of this story will have the progression in the Chris/Bianca relationship. Enjoy, and please review! (I swear I'll update sooner . . . as long as my computer doesn't crash again.)
Chris didn't dare breathe. He could see his own fear stricken eyes reflected in his brother's. He couldn't believe –refused to believe that it would end so soon, like this. Wyatt would have another sin staining his heart, on his beloved sword, and Chris would never get the chance to save his brother from himself.
The tip of Excalibur was just a centimeter away from Chris's throat. He could feel the sword's cold, metallic point, poised and ready to sever his head from the rest of his body.
Staring up at his brother's eyes, once so blue and pure, Chris could see how far gone Wyatt was. His eyes sparkled manically, and he knew that Wyatt was high off of Chris's fear. Even in this moment, even as his own impending doom was staring him straight in the eye, Chris could only think of one thing:
I will save you, big brother.
Closing his eyes for a moment, away from Wyatt's wall of ice, Chris wondered how the hell the day ended up like this.
"Bullshit. That's complete bullshit."
Chris sighed as he glanced at his cousin, her arms crossed in a defensive stance, her voice and expression cold and stubborn.
"C'mon, Pen. Maybe there's still hope –he may want to fix things."
Penelope Halliwell stared back at her cousin in disbelief. "You, of all people, Chris, should know your brother better than that. Actually, I'm insulted that he thinks we're stupid enough to fall for this."
Chris shrugged, his tone flat and bitter. "You can't blame me for hoping."
His cousin's expression softened. "We'll get him back, Chris, I promise."
"Eventually," he agreed grimly.
He checked his old sports watch for a second, then got up towards the door.
"Where are you going?" Penelope asked, "Please don't tell me it's to negotiate with Wyatt."
Chris shook his mop of brown hair. "I'm going to talk with one of my demonic contacts –see if this rumor is for real."
Pen opened her mouth to protest, but against her better judgment she closed it. "Do you want me to come with you?"
"No, we don't want to expose two part whitelighters."
But Penelope refused to let it go, her argumentive side taking over. "At least ask Brian or someone to go with you."
Chris sighed inwardly. "I'm meeting with Zankou. You know he's big in the Underworld movement against Wyatt. He trusts me as much as I trust him so I have to go alone. I'll be okay; we're meeting in neutral territory."
Penelope didn't look convinced. She never liked Chris's dealings with demons, especially Zankou, who was so powerful and threatening that the last Source had locked him away. Renegade demons opposing Wyatt's rule released him, hoping that Zankou would save them from Wyatt. Pen didn't like him, but like it or not they share a common enemy, and Zankou's been able to help them stock up on magical supplies.
"Why don't you just contact Bianca?" Pen asked. She liked Bianca way better than any of Chris's demonic contacts –at least she was a witch. An assassin witch, but a witch.
Chris closed his eyes, a sign that he was trying not to be annoyed by Penelope's nagging. She recognized this look dating back to when she was a little kid, begging Chris to let her have one more of his mom's delicious cookies.
"I can't rely on Bianca for everything. It'll blow her cover."
Chris's words about their collaboration with Bianca early in the beginning came back to Pen.
"Isn't she just a means to an end?" she asked, her voice accusing.
Chris was silent. He looked as if Pen had slapped him, his posture rigid and his mouth hard. Then, his expression neutralized and his expression became blank again. Chris shrugged and said, "She hates Wyatt just as much as we do; we have to take care of our contacts so we'll still have some later on. Otherwise, we're operating blind."
Chris smiled as he saw a reluctant acceptance in Penelope's eyes.
"Fine," she said stiffly, "Don't get killed."
"That's the idea," Chris replied good naturally. This was their little routine. Despite the great risk that death is a huge possibility, they both knew that they would have gone insane if every single moment of thought was devoted to how close they were to being caught. A small dose of paranoia and neuroticism was needed to ensure that there are no back doors into the base, in order to keep them and all of the witches and magical creatures in their care safe.
In fact, Chris recalled an argument he had with Finnegan, a concerned leprechaun.
"The leader of the Resistance mustn't go off on his own and deal with demons by himself! How will you lead if you're dead or captured?"
"I'm a hands on kind of guy,' he replied.
Finnegan glared at him sternly, examining him. Finally he sighed, and his gaze softened. "You are capable, I suppose. Just be careful." He suddenly smiled a wide grin, his eyes clouded in reminiscence, "You're just like your mother. Look just like her too. Your mother and aunts were great witches, great people. They'd be proud."
Chris was touched by this. But it also opened up unhealed wounds; he never really got over their deaths.
"Thanks Finnegan," he managed to stutter out before excusing himself to meet with his contact.
"Poor boy, seeing so much suffering . . ." Chris heard Finnegan mutter to himself as his vision blurred and he was taken up in the warmth of orbing.
"I've got to go –can't be late." Chris said, his voice echoing on "late" as he disappeared into the familiar sensation of blue orbs.
He reformed in the Underworld, the only "public" place where Wyatt can't sense them. This place was also protected with wiccan, whitelighter, and demonic magic so that only those who knew where it was could find it.
"Hello Christopher!"
Chris resisted from rolling his eyes. He had no idea where Zankou got his cheerfulness from. No demon should ever be that cheerful. Zankou was a sly one though; he changed his mask of expression as quickly as it takes to conjure a fireball.
Now his broad, welcoming smile neutralized, making him strictly business now.
"I assume you want to know about Wyatt's supposed negotiations?" Zankou asked.
"That'd be nice," Chris agreed.
Zankou reached a hand out. "You have my dragon's egg?"
Chris nodded and reached into the tattered school bag on his shoulder, taking out the large dragon egg he'd spent days crouched in a slimy swamp to get.
After being handed the egg Zankou inspected it with an appreciative smile.
"Thank you. This will help me a great deal. Was it messy to get?"
Chris recalled the squishy, disgusting mud, the various magical non magical creatures he had to avoid, and feeling of hot air from the dragon's breath. He still had some singed hairs.
"Yeah. It was." he answered dryly.
Zankou smiled. "Well, I thank you. Anyway, about your brother, it's a sham. It's just some half hearted jab at you or perhaps something else. But, from what I've heard, a real threat is coming. This was meant to get your guard down, make you think that he's underestimating you. My source says that Wyatt has sweatshops that are run by witches."
Chris nodded. The Resistance has known about these sweatshops for some time. They had a few members who were escapees of one. Unfortunately, they are too well guarded and they haven't been able to successfully take it down.
"Wyatt's going to start burning witches."
Chris did a double take. Did he hear Zankou right? "Excuse me?"
"Witch burnings, you know, like the Salem Witch Trials? Well, this time, there's no trial, there's no judge except one of their own. Just burning. He's blackmailing you, Christopher; he wants you to come to him, in exchange for the lives of the workers."
"Doesn't he need them?" Chris was surprised at how even his voice was; his heart was beating a heck of a lot faster than it should.
Zankou shook his head. "He can always get more, or get demons or magical creatures to replace them."
Chris closed his eyes for a moment to collect himself. What was this coming to? Wyatt was going to be the executioner of his own kind.
"Looks like I have no choice, then," Chris muttered to himself. There was no way he'd let all those innocents die. Better now while they're still strong anyway. Nobody wanted to say it, but the Resistance was getting desperate. Wyatt's forces were taking over everywhere, and even though he and Bianca had taken down the probe factory, there were still plenty around. Something had to be done soon, or all will be lost.
Zankou looked at him almost pityingly. "Yes, it is, isn't it? Good luck." With that, the demon shimmered out. Chris wasn't surprised that Zankou hadn't offered to help. They were allies, but strained ones at that. Besides, Zankou had no desire to die, and he needed whatever followers he had. Even with a tyrant ruling the city, Zankou, like a typical demon, had only one thing in mind: ruling the Underworld and, if he got ambitious, the world.
Chris snorted. Like that would happen anytime soon. He already had a vanquishing potion for Zankou that he had gotten off his blood a while ago. The potion, with a pretty darn powerful spell, should finish the demon off, if not weaken him considerably to be killed with more brutal devices, like an athame.
Knowing now what radical actions Wyatt was willing to take now to bring the resistance down, Chris knew that the climax of the struggle would soon come. And when that time came, he'd be ready. In fact, he'd initiate it.
That's it. Chris's mind was made up. Instead of hiding and waiting for Wyatt to bring the fight to them, he'd bring the fight to Wyatt.
With that thought in mind, he orbed out.
"ARE YOU CRAZY!"
Chris flinched slightly at Penelope's shrilly tone. She sounded so much like his Aunt Paige. That was exactly how she had yelled at Chris when he'd tried an experiment involving the toaster, a blanket, a pair of scissors, and a match. Needless to say, Chris had gotten what he wanted: to see how big of an explosion it would cause.
It was big.
"CHRIS! DO YOU WANT TO DIE? DO YOU HAVE A DEATH WISH? ARE YOU SUICIDAL? 'CAUSE IF YOU ARE, I AM GOING TO PUT YOU IN A STRAIGHTJACKET UNTIL –"
"Do you mind lowering your voice?" Chris yelled back at her, although his yell compared to her yell was a whisper.
"MIND? DO I MIND?"
"Yes," Chris answered patiently. When she was little, Penelope had been quite the tantrum thrower. He'd learned to tune her out and let her blow off her steam. It'd end eventually; it always does.
"Hey," a voice came from behind Chris.
"Hi," he greeted, grateful to her another voice other than his cousin's.
"What's she yelling about?" Brian asked, cocking his head at the shrieking Halliwell, who was now seething about how Chris wasn't listening to her.
Chris hesitated, unsure of how many people should know about his plan. Of course, probably half of the population already knows, thanks to Penelope.
"I'm planning on raiding the Manor." He decided to say. Straightforwardness always worked.
Brian's eyebrows furrowed, but other than that, he didn't show any emotion. "You think that's a good idea? I mean, what do you expect to come out of it?"
Chris's eyes were serious. "Listen, my source tells me that Wyatt is planning on witch burnings. And we're all getting tired and running out of resources. I think this is it. We have to hit them strong before they hit us weak."
"Well, if you're really going to go on this suicide mission, then I'll go with you,"
Both Chris and Brian turned around, surprised. Penelope had stopped yelling long ago, and now she was looking at the both of them with an insane fire in her eyes, her mouth tight in determination.
Chris remembered seeing that look on Aunt Paige every time they were about to tackle a big demon.
He saw that look on her face before facing the demon that would kill her.
Instantly worried now, Chris shook his head, "No, Pen, you're not going."
"Why not?" Penelope snarled, "I'm just as good a fighter as you. Plus," she walked closer to the two of them, "it's my home too. I should be there when we take it back."
"You have a lot of confidence in this 'suicide mission'." Brian muttered, weighing the risk and the reward for this type of mission. If both of the last fighting Halliwells went and . . . died, the Resistance would surely crumble. But, if both their powers combined were able to defeat Wyatt, or at least weaken him greatly, it would give them the opening that they need to finally take control away from the dictatorship.
Chris was also conflicted. He couldn't bear to see another one of his family members die. On the other hand, he could use Pen's help, and she was right. It was her home just as much as his, and they would conquer it back as true Halliwells, not as intruders.
"Fine," he consented grudgingly, "You're coming."
But Brian protested, "Wait! What if you fail? Aren't you going to tell the rest of the Resistance? If you go, everything is riding on this."
Chris nodded grimly. "I know. But I just . . . have this feeling that I need to do this now. Can you tell them? I know a lot of them wouldn't approve."
Brian frowned. "Don't you want me to come with you, though?"
"No," Chris shook his head, "This is going to be a Halliwell thing."
"What, so you're adapting Wyatt's ideas now, that whole I'm A Halliwell So I'm The Greatest?" Brian demanded, his eyes flashing.
Penelope stepped in, anger and indignation blazing in her eyes and voice, "What the hell is your problem, Brian? We're trying to win this war. Do you want witches to be burned at the stake?"
Brian's eyes narrowed. "Of course not. I'm just saying –"
But Penelope interrupted him, snapping back, "Well don't say it! Did you forget that we helped organize this damn Resistance? You guys were scattered until we came!"
"Doesn't look like we're doing any better now," Brian shot back. "We had success for a while, but everybody knows we're running out of resources and time . . ."
Chris was watching this exchange bitterly. Did they all think the way Brian did? And Brian was probably one of the members more closer to the cousins, so this worried Chris. He knew they were nearing the end of their endurance, but the fact that people were already beginning to lose hope . . . that really worried him.
Brian was right; everything really did ride on this mission.
"Stop it."
Both of them stopped arguing and turned towards Chris out of respect. He eyed both of them seriously. Addressing Brian first, he said, "Look. We're not like my brother. We want him to stop him just as much as the rest of you do, if not more because of personal reasons. Pen didn't mean that none of you did your part; you all did and started the Resistance long before anyone in our family even realized how far gone Wyatt was. We were blind to something you already knew. But we need to do this. I really do think that only a Halliwell can stop another one. We know Wyatt, and are better equipped to fight him. So please, don't tell the Resistance about it if . . . until we come back."
Brian nodded, all the anger he had before dissipating as everything got back down to business. He really didn't know why he had been so . . . pissed. He trusted Chris and Pen, he really did, but truthfully, he never got over the fact that their family was the one who had ravaged San Francisco, the world, like this. But every time he thought these thoughts he would always remember the Charmed Ones' legacy, and all the good the Halliwells had done in their long history.
It just so happened that this time, with their rations diminishing and everyone stressed out, he lashed out at Penelope. With Chris, he might have frowned at Brian's outbursts, but he'd be patient with him. Unfortunately, Penelope was argumentive by nature and it got a little out of hand.
"Ok," Brian accepted reluctantly, grinding his teeth. He had a bad feeling about this, but he knew nothing he said could stop them. They were both just as stubborn as Wyatt.
Chris offered him a thankful look. "Thanks. See you later, I guess." He then nodded to his cousin, who said goodbye to Brian and followed her cousin to the potions room.
Brian stood there in indecision for a moment, before bursting out, "Wait!"
The Halliwell cousins turned around. "Yeah?"
"Are you sure you don't want any back up?" he asked, genuinely worried and attempting to reconcile for what he had said earlier.
It wasn't Chris who answered him, but Penelope. "No, we'll be fine. Thanks though," she smiled at him. Pen wasn't mad at him anymore. She knew everyone was one edge. Besides, in the world they lived in, they couldn't afford to have petty fights when there are real battles to deal with.
"Good luck,"
The cousins nodded and went to stock up on potions and weapons.
Melinda was thoroughly annoyed. She found that once her cauldron had been broken by someone, her power was gone. Her source of power was the cauldron, and she was nothing now that she was gone.
She screamed out in frustration as she kicked over an unfortunate chair. She was nothing . . . nothing without power. And her damn mother didn't have offensive powers, so she never received any powers of that sort. Her magic relied on that cauldron, since her mother's power of premonition and empathy never developed in her. God, sometimes she hated her mother for the weakling she was. Wyatt had told her once of the story of Cole, her mother's demonic ex-husband, whom she had vanquished twice.
In Melinda's opinion, her mother, Phoebe, should have stayed with Cole. Maybe Melinda would have at least inherited some demonic powers instead of being stuck with nothing.
She knew Wyatt wasn't sure of what to do with her. Usually, when a demon or witch became useless to him, he executed them. But Melinda was of his blood, and he had always had a soft spot for family.
After all, their family was what they were trying to save. Wyatt was blind, though; he didn't have the foresight to see the potential danger Chris and Penelope posed to their mission. And threats had to be eliminated. Melinda was still peeved about how she had failed in killing Chris. She had been so close, so close.
Melinda gripped the chair handle so hard that the wood split in half.
Her source of power may be gone, but she felt that something was going to happen, soon. When that happened, she would be ready.
When that happened, she would be ready to finish what she started.
"Funny, isn't it?" Penelope said softly, looking up at her childhood home.
"What?" Chris asked, although he had a good idea of what she was about to say; he was thinking it too.
Penelope sighed. "Funny how it used to be so familiar and warm, and now it's so . . . so . . ." she paused, struggling to find the right words.
"Cold and strange?" Chris finished for her.
"Yeah. Pretty much. You think he sees us?"
Chris nodded grimly, unconsciously keeping his hand towards his athame. "I'm counting on it."
Chris knew Wyatt, and Wyatt knew Chris. If it were him bringing along the Resistance, his brother would send demons after them. But since it's just them Halliwells, Wyatt will want to take care of it himself.
That's exactly what Chris wanted him to do. Suddenly, both of them experienced the queasy, nagging feeling of being forced to orb.
Before her face completely disintegrated into blue orbs, her distorted voice called, "I love you, Chris. Good luck –"
At first, Chris wondered why she was telling him this now. But as he rematerialized, with no sign of Pen, he realized that her whitelighter senses were more acute than his. She could sense that they were both being orbed to different places.
"Hello, little brother."
Chris narrowed his eyes at the distinct shadow in the corner of the preserved attic. "Hello Wyatt."
"What? You don't consider me your brother anymore?" Wyatt taunted, still cloaked in darkness.
"No."
Wyatt chuckled. "Ouch, I'm hurt, Chris. Mom would be so proud to hear her little boy alienate his family. After all, 'family comes first' remember?"
Chris gritted his teeth and his fists clenched tightly. "You're not family," he answered coolly, pushing his emotions beneath him. If he could still feel . . . love, pain . . . then he wouldn't be able to do what he had to do.
He had to live the lie that Bianca's mother had told her, the fact that he wouldn't feel anything when he killed his brother.
Chris had everything under control, until he saw a distinct flinch coming from Wyatt, one he could see clearly even in the darkness. He realized that his remark had hurt his brother, that Wyatt could still feel.
The witch-whitelighter gulped, groaning inwardly as the emotions threatened to burst, a heavy lump in his throat playing tug of war. Damn. This just made it all the harder to do what had to be done.
"Well, I guess we've both come a long way from the ways Mom taught us, huh, Chris?" Wyatt's attempt at a calm voice failed. Chris, having learned from experience, learned not to speak when you're wounded by something; no matter how hard you tried to control it, your voice will always give you away.
Oh, god. He couldn't do it. He knew right then and there that he couldn't kill Wyatt. Maybe, he could destroy the dictator, the monster, but he couldn't murder his brother. By killing his brother, it would make him no better than the monster himself, that Chris would become the monster.
"No." he whispered quietly, to himself.
In that moment, Chris really regretted coming back home. But he knew that his Mom would be disappointed and royally pissed if he backed out now. "Finish what you started, Chris," she'd say.
Chris had his mind made up. He would bring Wyatt to the surface, defeat the monster, and bring his big brother back to them . . . even if it killed him.
Penelope already knew where she was going before she even fully materialized, and what would meet her, so she was ready with sword in hand. Chris preferred the traditional athame, but Penelope liked the follow through of a sword. There was only so much you could do with a short bladed athame.
Sure enough, someone attacked her from behind. She gracefully maneuvered her sword backwards so that it pierced roughly the chest area of her attacker. A satisfying scream met her ears and Pen felt something hot behind her. As she turned around, she realized in confusion that her attacker was a demon, judging by the ashes it left behind.
Penelope had been expecting Round Two with Melinda, only to find a low level demon as her assailant. But her whitelighter senses were tingling all over, and she realized that the demon was only a distraction from the real danger.
Shit! She cursed, pivoting around to meet Melinda's crazed eyes. Her cousin seemed slightly surprised to see Penelope's quick reaction to her presence.
"Happy to see me again, cousin?" Melinda sneered.
Pen scowled. "After what you pulled with Chris? No."
"Can you feel the love tonight? 'Cause I sure can't." Melinda smirked, quoting a song from their favorite DVD as kids, Lion King.
"And whose fault is that?" Penelope asked bitterly, swinging her sword around threateningly a couple of times.
Melinda's expression twisted. "Yours."
"No, Melinda," Pen said softly, recalling the memories Chris had experienced, recalling the pain and fear they contained. "Wyatt."
"Wyatt took care of me. Wyatt was the only relative that cared."
Pen was desperate to get her cousin to see sense. "We tried, Mel; we looked for you everywhere. We didn't realize until it was too late that he had you."
"Don't lie to me. Spare me the nice talk. I cut off your damn finger, how can you still stand there self righteously and try to get me to betray my cousin?"
Penelope was astounded at the illogicality of what Melinda had just said. Melinda should be amazed that Penelope wasn't out to kill her for the torture she had endured because of her. Melinda should know that it was because Pen loved her that she could forgive.
But either she couldn't remember what it felt like to be loved unconditionally, without fear, or was too stubborn to trust again.
Suddenly, without warning, Melinda lashed out. Penelope recoiled and attempted to regain her footing, ignoring the burning gash on her cheek. She stepped lightly on her feet, and got a good look at Melinda's weapon.
It was a whip, and judging from the burning sensation in her cheek, it was of the same breed as the knife she had attacked Pen with before. With a swift crack Melinda lashed out again, with Penelope barely dodging out of the way.
Pen was surprised; Melinda was pretty good with the whip. She must have watched Indiana Jones a lot. Penelope sighed. She couldn't believe that she could actually be amused at a time like this.
She knew she couldn't orb, and not for the first time Pen wished that she could shimmer. It'd be much more efficient and wouldn't be so damn slow. If she orbed, she would be exposed and vulnerable for a few seconds, enough time for Melinda to strike her down.
So, she would go on the offensive. The whip wouldn't be of much use in close range. Pen quickly grabbed a small dagger in between her fingertips and flung it at Melinda with dangerous accuracy.
Adrenaline reaching its peak, Melinda was able to crack her whip and knock the flying dagger away. While Melinda was distracted for a few moments, Pen ran towards her, sword in an offensive position.
Fear reflected in Melinda's widened eyes for a fraction of a second, but she was fast in defending herself, and assuming that Pen was aiming for the kill zone, she cracked her whip near her chest to intercept the blow.
But Melinda guessed wrong. Penelope aimed high and hit Melinda's head hard with the flat of her blade, knocking her out cold.
Panting from the effort, Penelope grabbed onto her injured right arm, where Melinda's whip had fractured in the last second before the blow to her head. Wincing, Pen put her sword back into its sheath and grabbed some rope that was lying around. Gritting her teeth and ignoring the pain in her arm, she tied Melinda up and gagged her. Finally, completely exhausted, Pen slumped against the wall.
One down, one more to go, she thought. Once she sensed Chris, her expression morphed from exhaustion to worry. Chris would have his work cut out for him, and Pen was in no condition to help.
"So we going to have one of those climatic showdowns or what?" Wyatt asked, mocking Chris's silence and stepping out of the shadows.
Chris looked up and met Wyatt's eyes. Wyatt recoiled from the fire and intensity of those green eyes. He didn't want to admit it, but his stomach felt knotted, guilty. Chris was looking at him as if Wyatt had disappointed him, as if he had done something horrible, and that hurt him deep down.
"I will save you, Wyatt, even if I have to die to do it." Chris swore seriously, his hand hovering over his athame.
Wyatt nodded sadly. "And I will save you from your flawed ideals; although I will not die for it."
Chris stared at his brother incredulously. Did Wyatt seriously think that Chris needed saving?
Without warning, Wyatt created an energy ball and launched it at Chris, whose quick reflexes raised his athame into the air to block the energy ball. Once the energy ball hit the athame, it disappeared. Chris laughed at Wyatt's confusion.
"Like it, Wyatt? I developed it just for you. It negates your powers."
Wyatt cursed silently. But he was the Twice Blessed One; he didn't need any damn energy balls to defeat his brother. He gestured with his hand and Chris began choking. Unfortunately for Wyatt, Chris had kept a tight hold on his athame and resisted clutching his throat. Instead, with great strain and effort, Chris reached into his mother's potion bag and threw a serious of their strongest demon vanquishing potions at his brother. At first, it didn't do any good, but Chris got lucky and found the potion he was looking for.
That potion sent Wyatt into spasms, thus losing his concentration and releasing Chris. He gasped and coughed as sharp air was breathed into his lungs. That potion contained the blood of a half whitelighter, half witch, just like Wyatt. Chris's blood.
Quickly, Chris sat on top of his brother, making sure he was pinned down. The athame was at Wyatt's throat. He suddenly had a vague déjà vu about the situation, remembering when he and Wyatt wrestled when they were little, how Chris would sit on top of him and declare victory. It wasn't until later that Chris realized that Wyatt usually let him win.
He wasn't going to make that mistake again, thus the athame.
Wyatt smiled sadly. "So you're going to kill me, huh, Chris? Slice my throat open and watch the blood flow, like you did with Mom?"
Chris flinched and pressed the athame against Wyatt's skin so that if he made any sudden movement he'd be cut. "I tried to save her, and you know it." He hissed, blinking away the tears as he thought of how helpless he felt as he watched his mother bleed to death. "You didn't come until it was too late, and I can't heal, you know that. Dad never bothered to teach me."
But Wyatt had achieved what he wanted. Chris was distracted and not quite on edge. With a sudden burst of power, Chris was flown off of him and into the wall. With the quickness of a cat, Wyatt was on him immediately, using his telekinesis to hold Chris against the wall and using his other hand to position his sword close to his brother's face.
Victory at last. "I always was the better fighter, Chris."
Chris felt every second ticking off of his life. So this is how it ends.
Bianca shimmered into Headquarters with satisfaction. Her target was safe. If anyone had told her that she would be saving her targets instead of assassinating them and taking the bounty, she would have laughed. But now, it was a part of the bargain with Chris. All of her targets would be sent to the Resistance to care for.
She frowned as she saw the Phoenixes and demons looking restless. She managed to weave her way through the crowd and towards her cousin Claire.
"What's going on?" she asked coolly.
Claire looked up. "Oh, you know the two renegade Halliwells, Christopher and Penelope?"
Bianca nodded, her training being the only thing keeping her face from betraying her. She determinately kept her expression neutral. "Yeah? What about them?"
"I guess they went to the Manor to end things, I guess. A demon's been saying that all the Halliwells are fighting each other."
"WHAT?" Bianca roared, losing her shred of self restraint. Claire raised an eyebrow, looking at her inquisitively.
Bianca thought fast, attempting to cover up for her outburst. "I mean, why isn't anybody mobilizing a rebellion? Wyatt's distracted; it'd be the perfect time to strike."
Claire shrugged and looked at Bianca as if she were a madwoman. "Are you kidding? Nobody wants to end up a pile of ash! It'd be suicide, even if Wyatt was distracted."
Nodding, Bianca pretended that she understood. What she was really thinking was "Coward". What happened? Their coven used to have pride, they used to be fighters. Nobody owned them. Looks like things have changed. Shaking her head in disgust once Claire turned her attention away from her, Bianca felt . . . horrible. There was a terrible knot in her stomach, and she knew something was wrong.
Chris.
Immediately, Bianca shimmered out. When she arrived into the attic, she absorbed the scene before her in horror. Chris's eyes widened in warning when he saw her, silently telling her to go away. But Bianca refused to let her only way out of this cowardly life die. She shimmered away to a safe area and cast a glamour spell on herself, altering her appearance into a nonexistent demon.
It was funny; ever since she had joined forces with the Resistance, with Chris, she had suddenly embraced her witch side. She had never before performed spells, and now found herself relying on one for disguise.
Bianca shimmered back in, behind Wyatt, who was completely focused on his brother. Silently creeping behind him, Bianca plunged her hand into Wyatt's back, holding him off. She was nowhere near powerful enough to suck out his powers, but she could hold him in place.
She tingled all over in pleasure as Wyatt's powers and strength slowly pulsed through her veins.
Chris, using his advantage to orb away from Wyatt, rematerialized inside the attic, but behind Wyatt this time.
His brother screamed in anger and threw Bianca off of him with a burst of power. She flew . . . and fell onto the stake of a broken table leg.
She was numb at first, but then the pain really hit her. She could see the stake in front of her, stained with her blood. It took all of her willpower to struggle and keep the glamour up.
"B –!" Chris began to shout, but stopped himself. He ran over to her, keeping a close eye on Wyatt, who was recovering.
Bianca smiled weakly. "Go. F –finish it."
Chris's eyes reflected back at her, turmoil in the stormy green pearls. "I can't leave you here to die. Not after . . ."
But Bianca snapped at him, "Damn it, Chris! Finish him and this damn war is over!"
Even though this logic made perfect sense in Chris's mind, he knew that even if he tried, he couldn't do it. He just couldn't kill his brother.
But he could weaken him.
Chris telekinetically raised Excalibur and plunged it into Wyatt's shoulder and threw him into a pile of boxes. He frantically reached into his potions sack and emptied the contents onto his brother, a series of power stripping potions and various vanquishing potions.
After a while, Wyatt rose, and Chris could see the potions taking effect on him. He looked ragged, tired, weakened.
"Time to go," he whispered to Bianca, and orbed them both out.
Wyatt watched his brother go, scowling and pained from the hole in his shoulder. He sensed for Melinda and felt her . . . unconscious. She had failed him, again.
Even when she had secretly tried to kill Chris, and failed, resulting in the loss of the cauldron, Wyatt forgave her. But now, she was of no use to him, and was starting to become a liability.
He regretted it, but he knew Melinda had to be disposed of.
Wyatt orbed in to see Melinda tied up and gagged. He assumed Pen had left already; even if she hadn't, he couldn't summon the energy to find her. Wyatt shook Melinda hard, resulting in her waking up.
"Wyatt? Did you get him?" Melinda asked.
The pissed off scowl Wyatt gave her answered her question clearly.
"You allowed her to get away?" Wyatt growled, his voice cold and merciless.
But before Melinda could answer her, she found Excalibur in her stomach. She stared up wordlessly at Wyatt as he watched her, and pulled the sword out of her, causing Melinda to cry out in agony.
"You made me do this, you know," Wyatt justified, "You betrayed me when you attempted to assassinate Chris, instead giving him more information and insight, and failed to at least capture Penelope. You disappoint me."
With that, Wyatt orbed out, leaving Melinda bleeding to death. Her breaths were ragged, and she couldn't stop shaking. Wyatt . . . Wyatt had left her!
From out of nowhere, Penelope came crawling out from her hiding space, having sensed Wyatt's coming before he materialized into the room. Tears spilled from her eyes as she frantically placed her hands over Melinda's wound, willing the golden healing glow to emit from her hands.
A pitiful, faint glow appeared for a second, but it was gone soon.
"No . . . no, damn it!" Penelope sobbed.
Melinda met her eyes in confusion. "What are you doing?"
"What does it look like? Trying to save you, idiot!" Penelope bit her lip in frustration.
Melinda frowned and closed her eyes. "If you're . . . trying to get me back on your side, forget it." Penelope began to panic. Melinda's breathing seemed to take more effort; Pen was running out of time.
"No, Mel, I'm saving you because you're my cousin, because I love you. I can't . . . nobody else can die!"
"Love . . . me?" Melinda wondered out loud. Something inside her snapped, and she had a reminiscent of her childhood memories coming back to her. She remembered the good times, remembered the feeling of being safe. "I . . . I'm sorry."
Penelope's heart skipped a beat. "Wh . . . What?"
"I'm sorry, for everything."
This only brought more tears to Penelope's eyes, the familiar feeling of helplessness and despair washing over her. She felt there was really only one thing she could say to her dying cousin,
"I forgive you, for everything."
And she meant it. No matter what Melinda has done, they were still family, they were still cousins. And Melinda's attempt at reconciliation, even in the end, was proof that that bond still existed, just as it still existed with Wyatt and Chris.
Penelope jumped as a strong, shinning golden glow appeared from under her fingertips. She stared at it in wonder before coming to her senses and guiding her hand over Melinda's wounds. Soon, Melinda was completely healed.
"How?" Melinda wondered, gazing at her cousin with bright eyes, a far cry from the dead, cloudy eyes that occupied her for so many years. The monster was gone. Melinda was back.
Penelope was staring at her hands, equally awed. But she knew now; she knew the trigger for her power.
Forgiveness.
At that moment, Chris orbed in. "Pen!"
Penelope looked up at Chris, and he was surprised to see a change in her.
"How's Bianca?" she asked. Chris raised an eyebrow. How'd she know that Bianca was with him?
"With the whitelighters." His attention turned to Melinda, unbound and unscathed. "Her?"
"She's good again." Pen beamed. "I can heal!"
Chris nodded, happy for her, but he knew they had to get out of there as soon as possible. "C'mon, we'll celebrate later, we've got to go."
But a lone, soft, voice argued, "No."
Melinda looked at her cousins with serious eyes. "I need to do something, to make up for all I've done."
Chris nodded in understanding. He had a feeling that this would be the last time he'd see his cousin, but he had no power over her. He couldn't stop her.
The Halliwells exchanged hugs and said their goodbyes. Penelope whispereda few soft words into Melinda's ear, causing the younger Halliwell to smile her first true smile in years.
"Keep on fighting," Melinda told the both of them before they orbed out. Then, she squared her shoulders, gathered her courage, and went to face Wyatt.
"How are you still alive?" Wyatt asked once she entered the room.
Melinda strolled over to him casually, standing close in front of him. "My cousin healed me."
Wyatt nodded. "I should have known Pen was still there. There's no way she'd leave you."
"That's not what you told me," Melinda said softly, pointing an accusing finger at him.
He grabbed her finger and lowered it. "It was for your own good."
Melinda was about to retort when she gasped and felt her head rushing with images. What she saw were the things she was protected against by hiding out in the Manor. She saw pain, death, sadness, ruin, and betrayal. She saw mothers crying for the loss of their children, saw Chris debating with himself on whether or not to kill his brother, saw Penelope in her room after quickly fleeing her mother's funeral, crying her heart out in the privacy and familiarity of her room, and saw her own mother's death, from her own eyes.
She had just had her first premonition.
"You're a monster, Wyatt." Melinda told him. She saw him flinch involuntarily at the truthfulness in her tone. "But you weren't always that way. Chris remembers you as his big brother."
Wyatt's voice was bitter when he answered, "And I think of him as my little brother. But he's interfering with my rule."
Melinda shook her head. "No. He's trying to save you from yourself. But before he can do that, you have to fight it, I know you can."
Her eldest cousin's fists trembled. Finally, unable to stand the guilt, the pain anymore, Wyatt plunged Excalibur into his cousin for the second time that day. Melinda stared up at him with strange calm.
"He loves you. I love you. We love you. Don't forget that." She whispered. Wyatt heard, and turned away, dropping her body onto the floor.
Chris and Penelope suddenly both doubled over in pain at the Resistance Headquarters.
"What's wrong?" Brian asked worriedly. They had just been explaining to him what happened when they suddenly had a spasm of pain.
The Halliwells looked at each other sadly. "Melinda's dead."
Far away from the ruined city of San Francisco, Prudence Halliwell fell from the air, the pain she felt deep in her heart and soul causing her to lose concentration of her levitating power.
She stared sadly outside her apartment. Her big sister was dead.
Prudence knew that it was almost time to return home.