2026 cont.

"Bianca!" Chris shouted.

She wasn't in the bedroom nor the bathroom. Racing up the hallway, he switched direction as he faintly heard her voice.

"I'm here," she said.

Staring down at the picture in her hands, she smiled. It was hard to imagine Wyatt and Chris ever having been kids, but here she had photographic proof. Chris stopped behind her, watching, seeing she was perfectly calm and in no immediate danger despite being somewhere else than where he expected her to be.

"You're up?" he queried.

"Yes, I wasn't paralysed," she said playfully. She glanced back at the photo. "You two were cute."

"That was a long time ago," Chris said, taking the frame from her hands and putting it back in its place. She looked at him quizzically. "How much do you know, Bianca? How much has he told you about what he's up to?"

"Who? What?"

"Wyatt."

"Only as much as he knows," she said, shrugging. "Why?"

"Did you know he was making a trade? I caught him talking to some guy about… getting assassins or something. He was going to trade you."

Bianca looked at him with even more confusion. "Me? What? What exactly did he say, Chris?"

"I don't know, something about you being some dirty secret and him giving you back to them."

Her eyes widened. "Back? Chris, who was he talking to? Who was he talking to, Chris?"

"A tall guy, dark hair," Chris said, straining to provide an accurate description. He caught her left hand and spied the birthmark on her wrist. It was the same as what he'd originally thought was a tattoo on the man he'd seen. "He had a mark exactly the same as that." Pulling forward her right arm, he pointed to her upper forearm where he'd seen it. "There."

Bianca ripped her hands away from him, taking a step back. She knew exactly who it was. Every Phoenix bore the birthmark, although in different locations. Bianca's was on the inside of her left wrist. Her mother's was at the nape of her neck, proudly displayed between the shoulder blades. But it was Michael's who lay on the upper inside of his forearm. Her fingers had brushed across it many a time. It made her sick to remember. She was not as concerned with Wyatt's betrayal as she was scared out of her mind at the prospect of having to face her ex-lover again.

"He's going to kill me, Chris," she said, panicked.

"He's not," Chris said, grabbing hold of her. "I won't let him anywhere near you. But you've got to get away, okay? Go grab your things and we'll go to that place I found in the Underworld. He's not going to find you there."

She went to say something but stopped herself, meekly nodding. She may have told him about the Phoenix, but he knew nothing about Michael. That was buried deep inside her. The only person who had ever unearthed it was Wyatt, and now he was using it against her.

Shimmering out of Chris' grasp, she reappeared in the bedroom of her apartment. Everything felt foreign as she looked around quickly, realising most of the things that caught her sight had been given to her by Wyatt. It was all bribery, one endless lie to keep her caged until the opportune moment when he could use her for his own devices. She swallowed hard as her mind told her that's all anyone ever wanted from her – to be used and discarded at their will.

Pressing a hand to her forehead, she looked towards the closet and drawers. Throwing open the sliding door she was able to find the small backpack she had acquired years ago buried up the back. It was enough to carry the little she had back then, before she knew Wyatt, but now there was so much more she knew it would be a struggle to fit everything in. She decided upon taking only that which she needed and loved best. She began haphazardly throwing in clothes – pyjamas, tops, skirts, pants, underwear – not caring for the fabric or whether they were wrinkled. She frowned as she looked at the pile of shoes stacked in a small mound in the closest corner of the wardrobe's interior. She couldn't take them all – she wouldn't be able to fit them in the bag. She had to settle for one pair. Sneakers would have been logical, but she didn't want to give up her boots. Sloppily tying the laces together, she slung them across the bag strap and hauled it onto her back. Just a few more things and she would be done. Traipsing down the hallway, she rounded the corner into the living room.

"Hello, Bianca."

The voice startled her, making her jump guiltily as the bag fell from her shoulder onto the chair. She felt like she'd just been caught sneaking out. She turned to look at him, stopping and wondering why she was acting so inhibited in her own home. She lived there, not him. He had no right to preside over her or this place in such an authoritative manner.

"I've been waiting for you," he continued. With a passing look of judgement, she silently turned back to her bag, busying herself with clips and zippers as she continued to pack her belongings. "You're not going to speak to me now?"

Pausing in her activities, she let the words sink in, asking herself the same question. The thought occurred to her that he hadn't listened to her last time she spoke to him. Fury sparked as she remembered what she had done in retaliation – she almost died because of him. At the same time as she was angry with him, she also feared him. If he held so much sway and power over her then she could be in a much worse situation in a matter of seconds. As much as she didn't want to get him mad, she didn't want to distract herself from her objective by poisoning the current moment with a few callous words. It would be better if she just pretended he wasn't there. And so she ignored him, resuming what she was doing.

"Surely you haven't lost your tongue since I saw you last."

"No, but I almost lost my life!" she snapped at him. Cursing inwardly at her outburst, she avoidably looked back to her bag, pushing down the contents to make room for one more thing.

"I heard about that," he said softly.

"Just shows how little you care," she mumbled. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she looked up at him. "So how long did you wait? Minutes? Seconds?"

"Hours, days," Wyatt waved his hand dramatically in the air. "What does it matter?" He pushed himself up out of the large padded white armchair. "It's all relative."

"Maybe in your tiny little world. No-one put you in charge, Wyatt."

"I didn't claim I was." He looked at her curiously, trying to determine what she was thinking. "You weren't intending on disrupting any more of my demons?"

Bianca shoved the last thing into the bag, closing it up. "I had no intention of doing anything except leaving."

"To where?"

"None of your business."

"I think it is," he said crossly. She didn't need to say anything – her eyes telling the whole story of anger, pain, hatred, frustration and betrayal as she glared at him. "Why?"

"I'm not going to play your pawn piece anymore," she said, setting her jaw. "I'm quitting. I don't want anything to do with this any more, or you."

"So my brother finally got to you," Wyatt observed. "What did he say to you, Bianca? What were those magic words he used to convince you to turn away?"

"He didn't say anything," Bianca mumbled, wrapping her hand around the straps of the bag.

"He must have said something to make you so eager to go," Wyatt insisted.

She turned and glared at him, watching as he came closer until he was only a step or two away from her. Slower and louder she repeated herself, emphasising every single word.

"He didn't say anything."

His head twitched slightly as he studied her, cautious as to just how far he could push her, but his desperation to know urged him on.

"You're lying," he stated.

"No," Bianca retorted. Hearing a noise behind her, she looked around and saw a shining blue bubbled barrier had surrounded both of them. He'd put up his shield, caging them both in, and only he had the power to bring it down. "What are you doing? Let me out!"

"No!" Wyatt shouted. "Tell me! Tell me what he said!"

"Nothing!" she screamed back at him. "He didn't say anything! It was all you! The only one to blame is yourself!"

Lifting his hand forcefully, he backhanded her across the face, his shield lowering as he sent her flying across the room and sprawling on the floor. Tears springing to her eyes, she lifted herself from the floor, pressing a hand to her cheek as she looked over to him. His whole body had become stiff, his expression rigid and determined fuelled by anger and jealousy she did not understand.

"What are you going to do, Wyatt?" she asked angrily, sniffling as she tried to keep from crying in front of him. She couldn't let that kind of weakness take her over. "Beat me until I stay? Or just kill me like everyone else you can't handle?"

"Don't make me hurt you," he seethed through gritted teeth.

"Open your eyes, Wyatt. You already have."

He didn't answer, simply staring at her as if trying to process what he'd done. He looked lost – not knowing what to do or say, not comprehending what had happened. There was no way she could save him now, everything was sliding downhill too fast with no way of recovery. Sniffling, she made one last effort to point him in the right direction, an apology of sorts as she came to terms with what she was about to do.

"I tried so hard to make it work for you, so hard to be what you needed me to be, but you've gone too far now. I can't try any harder to help you."

He watched her stand, cautiously moving towards her bag. He tried to tell himself he didn't care, that he didn't need her, tried to convince himself with every fibre of his being that he hated her and would be better off without her, but his heart kept yearning for her to stay. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see what was before him, too proud to tell her not to go. The words hung on his lips like air, the hatred of himself beginning to burn inside him at his incapability of doing anything right as he longed to hear her tell him it would all be okay.

Composing herself, Bianca picked up her bag. She couldn't bear to look at him. She had promised herself that she would never abandon him, but what choice did she have? He'd become affluently volatile – rash, impulsive, violent, demanding, irrational, power hungry – much more badly than he'd ever been. If she stayed she'd be risking her life… again; and not just that this time but her own personal security, comfort and happiness. It was better to run – run like she always did when she couldn't handle the situation anymore. Hoisting the strap on her shoulder, she drew in a deep breath, preparing herself for those final words.

"Goodbye, Wyatt," she said, almost breathing the words out. "Don't…"

She lifted her head. No matter what she told him not to do, she knew he wouldn't listen anyway. Without looking at him she shimmered out.

He kicked the corner of the coffee table in frustration, running his hands back through his hair as he turned to survey the chair he'd been sitting in upon her arrival. Everything he had given her, it was all here. Resuming his seated position, he clasped the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, the rest of his fingers sliding up his forehead as he lowered his head into his hand. His head throbbed, his heart ached and he didn't know what to do. He felt as if he'd just wasted the past four years of his life – clinging to a dream that he'd be able to make the perfect world, to find happiness through love and the redemption he sought. Instead it felt like he had ruined it all, pursuing an ideal that was never going to cross into reality. He needed guidance – someone that could point him in the right direction. But he had no-one left to turn to now. All he had was an empty apartment and a thin semblance of importance, with a vague idea of what he could do to get what he really wanted.

Chris dipped the cloth into the pool of water in the Underworld cavern he had found. He noted the water wasn't very cool; the few ice cubes that he had been able to muster up were already melting inside. He brought the cloth back to Bianca, handing it over as she smiled appreciatively from the bed. Raising it to her face, she flinched at the sudden coldness before pressing it more firmly to the spot where Wyatt had hit her.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Chris questioned with concern. "I'm so going to kill him next time I see him."

"No," Bianca protested quickly. "Don't do that. It won't solve anything. Someone will be right there to take his place."

"What am I meant to do? He hit you!"

"He hit you as well, or did you forget that?" she asked, eyes blazing.

"Hey, that's cause he was playing 'I'm the Golden Child and you don't matter'. He had no reason to hit you!"

"He did," she said adversely. Sighing, quickly trying to change the story from her to him to avoid any further questions, she looked at him disquietly and with care. "Look… I just don't want to see you get hurt, okay? He has a multitude of powers at his disposal, plus hundreds of demons. He could use anything against you and easily win."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"I mean it, Chris. He's dangerous. And if he really has got the Phoenix on his side…"

"They're not working for him. They haven't got you."

She stared into his eyes, knowing he was right. The flecks of green showed nothing but reassurance. Turning her attention away, she looked around the room – her humble abode for… however long. Did she really expect to stay hidden away here forever? Was that any kind of life to lead whilst Wyatt destroyed the rest of the city?

"Chris, this is a bad plan," she said, voicing her thoughts.

"Bianca, listen," he said softly, shifting towards her and brushing his hand over her knee. "You're perfectly safe here. They aren't going to come after you."

"What about when we leave?" she questioned, lowering the wet cloth. "You can't expect me to be caged here forever and be happy. I know what it's like to be restricted, I've been there before. I can't do it again."

"Are you saying this is my fault now?"

Bianca shook her head. "We haven't thought it through."

"I did, okay? He's up there, we're down here. That's all that matters. I can find my way around here for supplies. I found ice, didn't I?"

Looking down at the cloth in her hand, she smiled. "You did, although I don't know how or where."

"Our little neighbour pointed me in the right direction. He's been very helpful for a bad guy."

"You have demon buddies now do you?" she asked humorously, smiling as she looked back to him.

"Yes," he answered. She raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "It's convenient. I mean Gith is, well… a demon of desire. You want something bad enough, he makes it easier to find."

"That's how you found Gazu so quick, isn't it?" Bianca cocked her head thoughtfully. Chris nodded timidly. "Then I should be grateful to him for helping me too."

"Well I don't know if he's the kinda guy you should show gratitude for, but at least he's honest."

"Maybe it's time we start being truthful as well," she said, placing the cloth aside. "We can't keep lying to ourselves and thinking hiding down here will keep us safe, let alone the rest of the world. We need to find a way to stop Wyatt."

"We did already ripple the water. He doesn't have you to help him anymore. I don't think he was ever expecting that."

"He was going to throw me away, Chris. Of course he did."

"Well I can't just come up with a plan from the top of my head! I've been trying for years! Why don't you think of something?"

Folding her arms crossly, Bianca leant back. He was being ridiculously demanding – but she knew he always had, it was just her stubbornness that egged him on. She tried to weigh out all the possibilities of what they could do, but their short term solution wasn't any help.

"What if I go back?" she asked.

"Bianca, no. I can't let you. You said it yourself – he'll kill you."

"No," she said, trying to give him a reassuring smile as she lifted herself back up. "He doesn't want me. He wants power and prestige so he's going to trade me off to the Phoenix to try and get that."

"And what? You'll just walk away?" he inquired mistrustfully. Her smile faded as her gaze drifted down and she remained silent. "Bianca, see what I'm talking about? It's too dangerous."

"Then if I can't do anything, it has to be you," she said, lifting her eyes to his. "What are you able to do?"

Chris shrugged. "I've tried everything."

"Baby," she started, wetting her lips as she inched towards him, wrapping her hands around his. "You haven't. There's one thing you can do that he can't. He told me so. What advantage do you have over him?"

He searched her eyes with his own as if he could find the answer in them. It was difficult for him to believe he had any power stronger than Wyatt's after feeling inferior for so long – but it was that feeling that had driven him to gain the knowledge.

"Spell casting," he finally answered.

"That's why you wanted the book," Bianca realised.

"That's why he keeps it away from me," Chris responded.

"Then I have to go back. If I can't get the book, I can at least try for the Grimoire. If he's going to send me back to the Phoenix, that's where it is. My mother has it. I don't really want to see her again, but it's not like I have a choice. We need something to use against him."

"You'll never get it back to me," Chris disagreed. "Besides, isn't that book full of dark magic? It'll backfire. Halliwell spells are the strongest ones."

"Well then I'll cast it. God, Chris—"

"Hey," he said quickly, fastening hold of her. "I don't want you risking your life for something that's not going to work. We'll get the book. I'll get the book."

She swallowed hard, looking at him with dead seriousness. "You don't even know what's in it."

"I'll find something."

He loosened his hold on her, his hands sliding around her back as he pulled her in and kissed her temple. Leaning to the side, he pulled her down onto the bed with him, resting his head on the pillow as she rested hers on his chest. Lightly he brushed her arm as he stared up at the bare ceiling, his mind running over the same thought but not knowing how to go from where he was to achieving what he needed to.

"When did this all start, Chris? When did it all go so bad?" Bianca asked quietly.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "I can't even remember half of it. It feels like one never-ending day no matter how much time passes."

"He can't always have been like this."

"He was."

Bianca shifted her head to look up at him. "So he was hell bent on destroying the world when he was five?"

She felt his chest move as he laughed. "No, more hell bent on destroying my Tonka toys."

She smiled. "You see what I'm getting at, don't you? There had to be a time or place that triggered this, that made him want to be so violent against everyone."

"Human nature?"

"No. Chris, c'mon, you're from the same family. You're not doing it. What made him so different?"

"You really like to make me think, don't you?"

Sliding up his body, she lowered her lips to his, kissing him gently. "You know I'll make it worth it."

"And you really know how to pressure a guy," he teased. She smiled back at him, looking at him inquiringly. "Don't hover there, you're distracting."

"Sorry," she said, pushing herself away. He caught hold of her before she could move back too far.

"He did say something… about what happened before I was born. It was in-between all the bravado and I-hate-my-brother speech that he gave earlier this year."

"You remember?"

"Yeah, well, when someone's beating the living shit out of you you kind of don't forget what they said," Chris joked. She gave him a sympathetic smile. "But he said something about there being no-one to protect him, that they were all too vulnerable. Of course he tried to blame me – anyone but himself. I wouldn't doubt that he found it convenient because of the timing but… the thing is, he mentioned something bad happened, Bianca. He said that everybody was after him. Do you think it's possible someone did something to him?"

"It's plausible," she said, thinking that her own experience of being forced into something had led her to be who she was today.

Chris rolled his eyes, sighing as he let go of her and sank back into the bed. "So I'm fighting something twenty-three years old. Great."

"Don't sound so dismal. You were able to change me."

Lifting his hand, he gently brushed at the strands of long hair that fell about her face and down towards him. "It's not like I can go back and change it."

"You can," Bianca said suddenly, her eyes moving away from his face as she remembered a book she had seen long ago – the history of the Halliwells. It had changed before her eyes and she would have been able to read more of it if Michael hadn't demanded her immediate attention. She looked back to Chris. "It's been done before. I saw the writing change. The Phoenix has a library filled with history books on just about every coven in town. I read about your family. I studied your family. Chris, you can change this if you go back. You can be that protection your family needed."

"I don't know," he said, looking at her uncertainly.

She took his hands into hers; excited to have found a solution and the thought that if they pulled this off then they would have a perfect world. She could be happy. They could be happy.

"Can you imagine it, Chris? If you save your family, if you save Wyatt, there won't be any problems. The world wouldn't be falling apart. We could actually behave like normal people. We wouldn't have to hide. We could walk about freely without feeling threatened. You and me, we could just… be."

"And maybe get married," Chris suggested.

Bianca froze, looking at him with confusion. She wasn't sure if she'd misheard. Chris, himself, had not intended upon it being a proposal, it was just the first thing that came to mind when he tried to imagine what a perfect world would be like – the idea coming up a little more like one of those old shows set in the 1950s where the wife would be home cleaning and cooking while the husband went out to work, two adorable children running around the household, white picket fences and a dog that didn't disobey.

"What?" she asked.

"Um…" Chris stalled, not knowing what to say.

"You want to get married? To me?"

"Well, yeah. Someday," Chris said, nervously running his hand back through his hair. "But if you don't want to, I mean… that's okay."

"No, I just…" Bianca sat back on her heels, looking away as she thought about it. As her gaze drifted back to him she saw he was beginning to worry. Quickly she took his hands again and smiled reassuringly. "I want to… but can we wait til this is over? Will you ask me then?"

"If you help me choose a ring," he said. She nodded quickly, leaning down to kiss him as if sealing the promise.