2027

She heard the sweeping sound of the portal move around them and behind them. Hastily she pulled her hand from Chris'. She wasn't about to prove Wyatt right with his assumption on her feelings for Chris and how they blinded her from doing her job. They emerged from the portal together, Bianca just a step ahead of Chris. They both slowed their pace as they spotted the slew of guards in the darkened attic. While Chris eyed them disapprovingly, Bianca glanced around the room with concern. This wasn't how she'd left things, Wyatt had been here alone. Now he had backup, and she feared even more he had some plan that was going to involve violence. They all walked forward, forming a barrier in front of them, a solid wall of grey suits, folded arms and discerning stares. Her gaze passed over them. She recognised one or two as Phoenix.

"Welcome home, Chris," Wyatt said invitingly.

The guards stepped aside, Chris staring disparagingly ahead at the darkened form that was his older brother standing on the opposite side of the room. Bianca lifted her head defiantly, trying to appear confidant. But finding herself subconsciously half-shielding herself behind Chris' body she knew that was not the case. Wyatt walked forward slowly, stepping into the light, each heavy footfall resounding in the deep silence.

"Hello, Wyatt," Chris returned.

Wyatt narrowed his eyes and lowered his head slightly. Bianca could see a deep hatred radiating through those eyes, a look she did not quite understand. Yes they'd had their misgivings but she thought Wyatt may have given Chris a little leeway as he had her, whilst still being just about it. With a faster pace he approached them, his hands clasped behind his back, the floorboard squeaking under his weight. He stopped before Chris, meeting his eyes with the same grim determination that was reflected back at him. Switching his gaze to Bianca, she tossed her head upwards, a silent understanding passing between them that she had done what was asked.

"They're no threat to me," Wyatt said.

The demons bowed, disappearing in small sections as if the one split second between their absence would be enough time for Chris or Bianca to suddenly attack and become threatening. They were cautious.

"Et tu, Chris?" Wyatt recited with his own personalised spin; making it obvious to his younger brother he did not appreciate his treachery. He turned away from the pair, steadily making his way to the dais, disappointment in his voice. "Of all the people to betray me."

"I didn't go back to betray you, Wyatt. I went back to save you," Chris revealed.

Bianca held her breath as she watched Wyatt, waiting to see if he'd notice the flaws between Chris' story and hers. She had not told him the whole truth. She had tried to cover as best she could. Now Chris was going to tell him exactly what they had been trying to do. Wyatt turned back with surprise at the revelation.

"Save me? Ha," he chuckled. "From what?"

"From whatever evil it was that turned you," Chris said.

Wyatt turned his head away, wetting his lips as he thought about the naivety of his younger brother. He didn't understand. How completely wrong he was. But now Wyatt had the information he needed as to why his brother consistently defied him. He now knew what he was swaying Bianca away with. He looked back to Chris knowing his brother needed to reach the same kind of understanding he did.

"That's always been your problem, Chris. Stuck in the old good-versus-evil morass," he said piteously, placing his hand on the book. Chris rolled his eyes away, shifting his stance. "I'm so past that. It's all about power. It's as simple as that."

"And whoever has the most power wins. Is that it?" Chris queried.

"That's it," Wyatt said flatly. Chris scoffed at the answer, shaking his head. "That's why I keep this museum intact. To remind everyone the power from which I was born and that which I possess."

Chris looked around at the attic for the first time, as if seeing the room with fresh eyes, witnessing everything that Wyatt had done to it. He stepped forward vengefully. Bianca looked at him anxiously, folding her arms as tried to psych herself into backing him up. Wyatt was not someone you should oppose.

"Too bad the rest of the city isn't faring as well as your little shrine here," Chris said.

Drawing his hands behind his back, Wyatt stepped away from the dais curiously, studying his brother's recalcitrance.

"You know, if anyone else tried what you tried, I'd kill them on the spot. But you…" Wyatt drifted off. He saw Chris swallow and the slightest bit of fear flicker into his eyes. His gaze shifted over to the side, to Bianca. Chris followed his line of sight, looking back to her. She didn't move. She almost feared if she did they would both turn on her like reticent prey ready for the taking. If she didn't move, didn't speak, then maybe they'd sort this out between themselves. "I've forgiven Bianca. I can forgive you, too, if you promise never to cross me again."

"I think you know me better than that," Chris said shrewdly.

"I thought you said you could talk some sense into him," Wyatt snapped.

The comment pushed her to action. She unfolded her arms and stormed forward, irate that he would assume she had done nothing, that she had not risked her life and everything else by bringing him back. Just because only a little time had passed here did not mean that she had not put every effort into acquiring Chris from the past in the condition he had wanted him. She had not had an opportunity to 'talk' to Chris, and if she tried she knew he would very well have taken off as he had done to her in the park. With or without his powers, Chris was crafty enough to be evasive in signs of trouble. Before she had a chance to speak and explain anything to Wyatt, Chris jumped to her defence. She stopped by his side.

"Leave her out of this," Chris asserted.

Wyatt lifted his hand, curling his fingers. It took Bianca a moment to realise what was happening. Chris started gurgling as his throat began to close up internally. He lifted his hands to his neck, trying to stop the invisible stranglehold, his knees growing weaker as he struggled for breath. Bianca gasped, looking to Wyatt with surprise. It was when she saw the resolve in his eyes, the stone cold expression, that she knew he had intended to do it. Her eyes darkened as Chris collapsed to his knees beside her, lowering slowly as Wyatt lowered his clenched hand, his hands firmly clasping his neck as Wyatt telekinetically choked him. She shifted, knowing she had to do something but not knowing what. She had to stop him from hurting Chris.

"Pardon me?" Wyatt asked, as if Chris had offended him.

Bianca's anger grew as Chris struggled to breathe next to her. She always thought that she'd had a special part to play in Wyatt's plans, but now he was acting as if he was in control of her – that she was nothing but one of his lackeys to do his bidding. He had always been considerate when it came to her. Now there seemed no defying him, he believed he was in control of everyone. Just to prove it was physically possible, Wyatt opened his hand and swept it to the side, slicing through the air. Chris went sprawling across the ground behind her, smashing headfirst into a cabinet. She looked back quickly as she heard glass shatter, wood and paper cascading down onto her fiancé… if she could still call him that.

"Chris!" she cried.

She saw Chris pushing himself back up from the ground, flicking his hand towards a piece of broken wood. It was a programmed response. It didn't move. She saw the sudden realisation dawn on his face as it did on hers that she had left him defenceless. Wyatt swept his body in the other direction, toying with him. She looked back to Wyatt, glaring at him.

"Stop it!" she demanded.

"Why?" he questioned.

"You're not being fair. He doesn't have an equal advantage, I took his powers."

"Then you've done your job."

Wyatt turned to face Chris. He was starting to get to his feet again. Wyatt lifted his hand, casting his fingers forward in the air like he was throwing a ball. Chris followed suit, telekinetically lifted off the ground and thrown against the table by the window. It snapped in half as his weight fell on top of it, the contents on the surface disintegrating and rebounding onto the floor. Chris rolled onto his side as the table completely splintered underneath him, crying out in pain. Bianca circled around to Wyatt's side. He couldn't keep this up.

"You promised you wouldn't hurt him!" she reminded him.

"And you promised you'd turn him. Just like I turned you, or at least I thought I had," he returned coldly.

Angrily she rushed over to Chris, crouching down to help him sit up. He was clutching his side, looking somewhat hazy as he lifted his torso from the ground, vocalising his pain. She was so angry now she was becoming upset; saddened to see it brought to this Neanderthal brawl, knowing that it was her fault this was happening and that he was unable to defend himself. He must have thought they had planned this for him all along.

"Chris… please," she begged. A sole tear escaped her eye. She had to convince him this wasn't her intention. His gaze shifted momentarily from Wyatt to her. "I didn't bring you here to die."

"Don't worry. I know what I'm doing," he assured her. He looked up to Wyatt, saw him waiting with inquisitiveness. His eyes drifted down to his brother's foot, gently rocking on the loose floorboard. "I think."

Sitting back on her heels, her hands slipped from his shoulders as he rose and charged at Wyatt with a holler. Wyatt easily grabbed him and pushed him aside, deflecting his attack. He flipped into an end table, the boxes stacked behind it collapsing under his feet.

"Have you lost your mind?" Wyatt queried.

Chris glanced up from the smatter of books and papers underneath him. His body ached all over. Wyatt lifted his right hand, curling his fingers again. Chris' body was elevated off the ground, suspended high in the air as he again began to choke.

"I don't need you," Wyatt seethed, stating every word slowly.

Raising his left hand he conjured an energy ball, Chris' body slamming into the roof of the attic as he clutched at his neck for breath, flailing at the lack of contact with anything as he swung his arm back trying to grab the rafter. Unable to stand the torture any longer, her eyes filled with tears, Bianca pushed herself to her feet, racing towards Wyatt and thrusting her hand into his back before he had a chance to throw the energy ball. The light in his hand disintegrated in a puff of smoke, Wyatt roaring at the intrusion to his system. He felt it deep inside him, his head snapping back at the impact. His attention diverted from Chris, the shaggy-haired brunette fell to the floor. Bianca shifted her stance, trying to cement her feet to the floor. She knew how powerful Wyatt was. She could feel it. Mere seconds after entering his body she struggled to maintain her grasp, her hand shaking with the amount of energy racing up her arm.

"Whatever you're gonna do, do it fast," Bianca said. Chris looked up from the floor, his arm throbbing. The light was almost blinding as it widened across Wyatt's back. "I can't hold him for long."

Chris wasted no time pushing himself to his feet, scampering across the floor to the loose floorboard and throwing back the rug. He pried open the boards and pulled out the dusty piece of paper, fumbling to open it. Bianca was wheezing now, it was too much for her. There was too much power in Wyatt for her small body to contain. She bit her lip, trying to hold on, trying to ignore the strain this was putting on her system. She had to give Chris a few extra minutes.

"Power of witches rise, come to me from across the skies. Return my magic, give me back all that was taken from the attack!" he read aloud.

There was no doubt Chris was an excellent spell caster. He barely even finished the spell before his body glowed a translucent blue, the white overlay racing up and down his form as his powers were reinstated. He sighed, almost collapsing onto the ground with the effort of it all.

Bianca could hear Wyatt growling, hear his cries of pain as he tried to fight her, tried to fight the invasion. With an almighty bellow he pulled himself forward, kicking his leg out behind him to push her away. The mid-section of his black shoe made impact just under her chin, sending her into the air flying backwards with the force.

She felt herself gliding, the pain in her chin suddenly seizing her whole body as she landed; her head snapped back against the wood and the wind rushed out of her as she cried out at the feeling of something else penetrating her body.

"No!" Chris shouted, rising and sweeping his hand at Wyatt.

Wyatt flew back into the air, smashing against the light that hung by the attic wall. His feet made contact with the wall as the sparks of electricity shot from the wires before he crashed to the ground amidst the broken wood and shattered glass.

Lifting her head and lowering her eyes to see what the damage was to her body, Bianca became more anxious at the sight of the broken table leg jutting out from the midsection of her body. It was covered in blood – her blood. She could feel the warm, wet liquid drifting down the inside of her suit, could feel the stickiness pooling at her back. There was so much blood. She wasn't going to survive this.

"Bianca!" Chris exclaimed.

Terrified, she reached for him as he dropped by her side, one hand on her waist as the other reached for her face, but it was her hair he came to rest on in a comforting gesture. She locked onto his eyes in desperation, looking for the hope he had once given her, praying he had an answer for this like he had an answer for everything else. She kept telling herself not to cry – he would fix this. Chris could make things better like he always did. He'd found a way last time, hadn't he?

"No, no," he murmured.

"Haven't we been here before?" she reminded him, struggling to compose herself, to catch her breath.

"Maybe we will be again," he returned.

There was the hope she was looking for. She gave a weak smile, attempting to nod, but it wouldn't hold. She couldn't pretend that this was going to go away. She sniffled, closing her eyes against the tears.

"Maybe," she whispered.

Chris lowered his head to her chest, whimpering helplessly. She didn't want him to cry, it was going to make her cry. Just the very thought of him seeing her like this, of the fact they were about to permanently lose each other, made the tears flow from her eyes. But she knew they still had to do something to stop this; to stop him. In her heart she knew that if he changed things then this may not happen. She may be in a worse situation, but she was willing to risk that for their happiness. She fumbled for Chris' hand, prying the fingers from her body and pushing the ring into his hand. He lifted his head, looking at the object in his open palm.

"You can finish what we started," she sobbed, her breath shuddering as she calmed herself.

Chris swallowed, staring at the ring, knowing exactly what she meant. He closed his eyes, grim determination on his face, and nodded his head. It was that small movement that told her he understood what she wanted him to do, that if she was to die then this would be the last thing he could give her – a dying wish granted. Wyatt began to stir on the floor and Bianca quickly shifted her gaze towards him.

"Hurry," she urged. Chris glanced back to see his brother moving. "Take the spell so he can't send anyone else. Go!"

Chris pushed away from her, leaving her like a broken rag doll as he raced for the dais. Wyatt lifted himself to his knees, for the first time laying his eyes on Bianca after he'd kicked her. Seeing her impaled by the very table Chris had shattered, his anger towards his brother grew and with keen eyes he watched his younger brother run towards the book. Hurriedly Chris flipped through the Book of Shadows trying to find the spell he had used to go back the first time. Wyatt transferred his weight onto one arm, generating an energy ball in the other, blaming Chris entirely for what had happened to Bianca. If he hadn't been so defiant, if he hadn't made her care about him so much, if he had not gone completely insane and made him throw him across the room, if he hadn't broken the table – she would not be in the fragile state she was now.

"Hear these words, hear the rhyme. Heed the hope within my mind," Chris began to recite.

Now fully on his feet, Wyatt drew his arm back and thrust forward with as much force as he could generate, casting the ball towards Chris. Chris ducked to the side, the ball smashing into the back window of the attic, shattering against the glass in an array of white sparks. Recovering, Chris turned back to the book. Wyatt stared in surprise, unable to believe his brother had predicted and evaded the attack so easily. He couldn't believe he had missed.

"Send me back to where I'll find what I wish in place and time," Chris finished.

The triquetra flashed and rippled as the portal reopened. Wyatt glanced quickly towards the wall and moved to action as Chris looked and checked that the spell had worked. Chris grabbed the page into his hand, tearing the spell from the book. Wyatt realised his younger brother was about to get away again, he was going to abandon them all. Chris ran headfirst for the vortex, Wyatt quickly generating another energy ball and throwing it in his wake.

"No!" Wyatt shouted in frustration.

The portal closed as Chris dived through it, the energy ball sparking like clear fireworks against the chalk drawing, leaving a large circle burnt into the wooden wall. Huffing, Wyatt looked back to the book, remembering Chris had vandalised it slightly by taking the spell. He lowered his eyes. His dim-witted brother didn't seem to realise that the spell he had used to go back to the past was not the same spell he had sent Bianca back with. Thinking of the Phoenix, his gaze drifted over to her body.

Trying to focus on helping herself and ignoring the action around her, Bianca closed her eyes and remembered her father; how brave he had been before he died. She tried to summon that bravery in herself, finding irony in the fact that she was to die at the hands of her employer as he had for the very same reasons. The memory of her father reminded her of the fairytale he often read to her. She took comfort in knowing she was just like that princess – she'd merely pierced herself on something and now she would fall asleep. There was nothing to be afraid of. She wouldn't have to worry anymore. Chris would fight and overcome all those obstacles, and then he would come and wake her with a single kiss. From that moment on their world would be right.

She struggled to draw in another breath, opening her eyes as she heard footsteps approaching her. She saw Wyatt's tall frame come into view, surveying her vulnerable body. Her eyes misted over with tears, knowing she was completely at his mercy.

"Wyatt, no," she pleaded. "Please. Wyatt, don't."

He lifted his hands. She screamed as the wooden stake ripped back through her body, feeling the blood gush from the wound at her back like a broken dam. Tears spilled from her eyes as she hovered over the fractured table leg. She expected him to drop her again, to continue the torture. Instead he curled his hands towards himself, gliding her towards him. Letting out a mangled cry of strain at the action he dropped to his knees. She fell onto his lap. Her body shuddered as he adjusted his position to support her injured form.

"Why, Bianca?" he asked angrily. "Why make me hurt you? Do you think I enjoy it?"

She stared up at him, unable to answer, her entire energy infused in trying to breathe and to stay conscious. She could feel her blood pooling in her system, as the magic had inside Chris, swamping her air passages and coursing out through the wound. She coughed involuntarily, blood leaving the corner of her mouth and sliding down her cheek. He pulled her back towards him, cradling her in his arms and wiping at the residue.

"Bianca," he started.

Her eyes fluttered closed. She forced them to open again but the world looked dim and blurry. She couldn't fight anymore. It was easier to let go. Again her lids closed over those doe brown eyes, her whole body relaxing in his hold, her head falling back.

"Bianca. Bianca!" he called, shaking her body. She didn't respond. Her body remained limp in his arms. "No. No, I didn't kill you. No!"

Panicked, he fumbled to check each of her pulse points – turning her pale face towards him as he touched her neck, grabbing for her arm and finding no beat in the wrist either. He placed his hand to her chest. It was still. No beat, no breath. Tears stung his eyes as he ran through every option that coursed through his mind. He didn't want to lose her. That very thought stirred the feeling that he couldn't be without her. Sniffling and shifting her body, he moved his hands to cover the entry and exit of the wound. His hands beginning to glow a warm yellow, he bellowed at the pain it cause him to heal her, biting down as he tried to ignore the feeling of his back being ripped open more than it already was. It seemed like hours passed in those few quiet minutes. The healing went slower as the more he repaired her the more he infected himself. Suddenly her chest moved under his hand as she inhaled deeply, her eyes opening instantly as her body rose to the touch, gasping for air. She shook in his arms as she settled, staring at him fearfully. Pressing her hand against his body she pushed herself away. His hands fell uselessly to his sides as he bowed his head and tried to combat the pain he was in. Gritting his teeth together he lifted his gaze to look at her.

"Fix this," he ordered. He noticed her hesitation and knew she was afraid of what he'd do to her. "I healed you. You owe me. Fix it, Bianca."

She glanced towards the attic wall, to the chalk outline of the triquetra. She knew Chris must have successfully gone through. Looking back to Wyatt she saw he was wrestling with the pain, like a maimed animal seeking help from a sympathetic citizen. He dissolved into a collection of orbs as he tried to move himself elsewhere, but the stream did little more than float up and back down as his body reformed on the floor, devoid of the energy required to use that power. He collapsed facedown onto the floorboards. Bianca studied him, considering what she would do. She couldn't leave him to die. Not only would it make everything they were trying to do pointless, but if she did let him die and the others found out… Wyatt had always been lenient towards her. Without him around and harnessing the knowledge that she had killed both Michael and Wyatt, the Phoenix would turn on her with brutality. They did not take punishment lightly. Wyatt had endangered his own life to save hers. She couldn't make that benevolence unworthy.

Hurriedly she made her way back to him, placing her hand on his back and pushing into the wound. She tried to block out the sounds he made as she took the remainder of his powers. She didn't want to acknowledge that she was returning kindness with pain, but she knew that he would feel better once this was over.

"Breathe," she instructed, drawing her hand back. The light closed behind her. "Breathe slowly. Don't move too quickly."

Pushing himself up from the ground, he twisted his body to look at her. She looked at him solemnly, averting her gaze as she stood and walked away from him. She stopped mid-stride, clutching a hand to her chest and drawing in a deep breath. She was having a harder time containing Wyatt's powers than she had previously.

"Thank you," she heard Wyatt say from the floor. The expression of gratitude sounded odd to her ears, she was not used to being appreciated. She wondered if she really was dead. "What are you going to do with my powers? You can't keep them. I can see they're hurting you."

She glanced back at him, watching him climb to his feet, reflecting on how he'd always been able to read her. The only exception were the few times she had lied to him when he had expected her to be honest, because that's how she should have been if she valued their friendship. Guilt overtook her thoughts and she looked away again.

"Why don't you just give them back to me?" he prompted.

She turned to face him, shaking her head resolutely. She couldn't hand his powers back to him. She'd kept him alive. That was all she needed to do. If she gave him back his powers she would be giving him permission to go on behaving as he had been.

"Bianca," he said stepping towards her. She took a step back. "I'm not going to hurt you. If you're so threatened by me without my powers, what's the harm in giving them back to me? What do you have to be afraid of?"

"You killed me," she said.

"I saved you," he corrected.

"I can't give them back to you. You're only going to hurt more people."

"If you don't give them back, I can't protect anyone either. That includes you."

Wetting her lips she looked away, considering. Tentatively she moved towards him. Slowly she lifted her hands, looking up into his eyes.

"I'm only going to do this on one condition. Promise me you won't go after Chris. Promise me you'll leave him alone and don't go back on it. Let him help you."

Wyatt shook his head. "You're the only one who can help me now."

Her hands shaking, she cupped them and pressed the palms together. Light sparked between them and she pushed it towards him. Her head swam instantly and she struggled to maintain concentration.

All that was gathered
Absorbed in whole
Leave my possession
Into this soul

The energy leaving her was twice as draining as when she had taken it. She wondered why she hadn't been this weak last time she gave him back his powers. The thought that she had died, only just been healed, and was putting far too much strain on her system with the interchange of powers did not occur to her.

She stumbled forward a step. Wyatt looked down at her with concern. The painful feeling of her capacity being overfilled began to fall away leaving her feeling hollow and empty. Her head spun again and she lost consciousness. Wyatt grabbed her as she fell, shifting her body in one arm until she was close to his chest. Bending his knees he swept the other arm under her legs, lifting her lithe figure and carrying her over to the settee that sat against the wall. Gently he lowered her onto the purple padding. He moved his hand to her neck, assuring himself she was okay as he checked and felt the throbbing of her pulse under her soft skin. His gaze drifting down to her midsection he saw that the blood was still there – visual evidence of how he had hurt her. He wiped it with his hand, finding it easily removed from the vinyl fabric. Worried he had not been able to heal her properly he pressed his thumb between the buckles on the front of her suit, brushing against her skin. He couldn't feel the wound. She seemed to be fine, just worn out. Relieved, he collapsed onto the sofa bed next to her, resting his head against the cushions. He was tired himself.