Chris woke up to darkness.

The floor was cold, and his limbs were on fire, but he couldn't see any injuries through his blurry vision.

Confusion floated around in his head, mixing with a migraine.

"That was actually faster than I expected." a voice greeted too loudly, making him flinch.

Chris raised his head. The moment his eyes landed on Lucifer, ice flooded his veins, sobering him up.

Memories crashed into his head. Horrifying nightmares – demons and fire and blood and pain.

A deal.

Lucifer –

Hellhound.

Chris jumped to his feet looking around frantically.

Not again.

Not again.

Not again.

He managed to stumble exactly one step backwards before the black chains he hadn't noticed dug painfully into his wrists.

Lucifer smiled behind his glass.

Chris took a deep breath.

"What is this?"

"A proposal."

Chris blinked once. Twice.

"What?"

"Here's the thing –" Lucifer started. "When a human soul goes to hell, the first thing they do is go up on the rack – as you well know."

Chris flinched. Lucifer ignored it.

"After that, one of two things happen. Either the soul snaps and loses all coherent thinking, rationality, humanity etc. and they waste away, useless – or they harden. They exchange their humanity for anger and kindness for madness and turn into the perfect candidate for becoming a brand-new demon." The King of Hell explained, directing a hungry grin towards the green looking witch-lighter. "Now, in your case, I got you down a bit earlier."

He gestured towards Chris, like he disapproved of his clothes.

"You're obviously still sane – or close enough anyway – and you almost got the anger down." He continued, gaze calculating. "But you haven't lost your humanity. You rooted into it. Into your brother."

Chris' head snapped up at the world brother and froze while Lucifer stopped to take another sip of his wine.

"Hence – the proposal! I get you off the rack and you give me your loyalty."

Chris blinked; his brain still felt scrambled.

"M – My loyalty?"

"Yep." Lucifer smirked. "I could just wait until you turn into a demon. It would take longer, you'd have to spend, I don't know, about three – four – six hundred more years on the rack – "

Chris' legs almost gave out under him.

"But one day, you'll get offered the whip and you'll take it. You'll take it and bring it down on the next damned soul that reached hell, because everybody breaks at one point. And you'll laugh about it," the Devil promised. "Because your eyes will be black, and your heart would have burned out so long ago, you'd have forgotten what that dear brother of yours looked like! You'd forget what his name was. You'd forget what your name was. And you wouldn't care because that is what Hell does! And no Halliwell can change that." Lucifer finished with a grin.

Chris shook his head, his breaths coming out short and elevated.

He'll hold on.

He had to hold on.

Until when? a voice in his head snapped back.

The only other option is getting destroyed. Which feels a lot different when you know there's no Haven waiting on the other side.

And for what? another voice added. Wyatt is saved. The world doesn't need you anymore. It doesn't need a General. It's got enough witches. It's got enough Halliwells.

"But that –" Lucifer continued, ignoring the storm of emotion that was swirling inside the young witch-lighter. "Would be such a waste."

Chris stared.

"Clever is annoyingly rare these days. Especially in Hell. And as I pointed out, demons are just embodiments of rage. They're the remains of a human soul that had been broken and twisted into the darkest version of itself. They're malevolent beings. All over the place. Useful enough, but just so boring. For some missions I need smart. I need clever." Lucifer stated. "Which is where you come in."

"...Me?"

Lucifer rolled his eyes.

"Maybe not that clever. Yes, you!" he growled leaning closer, making Chris itch backwards as much as the chains allowed him. "You work for me. You do exactly as I say, and I'll keep you off the rack! How does that sound?"

"I won't kill anybody for you." Chris stated making Lucifer groan, exasperated.

"I have more than a thousand demons, trained and experienced, begging to kill in my name. Why in the world would I need you to do it?"

Hellfire flared up in his eyes.

The chains around Chris' wrists turned hotter.

"You see these?" he asked pointing at them. He snapped his fingers, and the chains broke, making Chris stumble. His wrists were bleeding. "These are just some fancy accessories. So, you'll do good to remember that tinsy winsy but ever so crucial tinny tiny detail called: I OWN YOU!" Lucifer thundered and Chris yelped as the whole throne room shook. Ancient magic flared behind the Devil as the shadows danced. "I have your soul, kid. I own you! And I could just compel you to do anything I want!" he admitted and proved it by making Chris spin around. He held up a hand, and the witch-lighter stopped and slammed against the wall. "But that pretty much means I'd be doing the jobs myself which is not the point. You're not my only employee. You're not the only one that could take the jobs I give you. Never doubt that if I give you a job and you refuse to do it, I can find someone else that would beg me to give it to them. And I hope you're not going to waste my time asking what will happen to you if you refuse."

He waved another hand and the force keeping Chris pinned against the wall disappeared, making him fall to his knees in front of the King of Hell.

He took a deep breath.

In every lifetime Christopher Halliwell had been cursed to be a survivor.

He couldn't go back on the rack. He wouldn't.

"...What kind of jobs?"

Lucifer shrugged.

"Whatever I might feel like laughing at. Talk someone into doing something. Take care of some demons that are becoming annoying. Steal something from Magic School. Take care of some other deals-"

"You want me to make deals?!"

"I said 'take care', only crossroad demons get to make deals. And me, of course." Lucifer waved a hand impatiently. "Alright, you've wasted enough of my time. You've heard everything you needed. One time offer – choose wisely." He advised, but the grin on his face couldn't get more self-assured.

Just like twenty years ago, the Devil held out his hand, hellfire dancing in his palm.

"So? What would it be Halliwell?" Lucifer grinned at him. "Will you work for the Devil?"

And just like twenty years ago, Christopher Halliwell felt numb as he grasped it. This time not for his brother, but for himself.

And that sent chills down his spine, like nothing else ever did.

~ Charmed ~

The nightmares were even worse now.

Wyatt hadn't been able to sleep since his brother died, but now that he spoke to Grams, it was even worse.

Before, he could tell himself it was all in his mind. That it was his guilt and grief creating horrors as a punishment of sorts. For failing Chris so bad.

But now...

Something took Chris.

Killed him and took his soul.

And Wyatt hadn't been there. Wyatt hadn't protected him.

His jaw clenched, fingers gripping Excalibur even tighter as he attacked his training dummy.

The nightmares changed after he found out. They weren't memories or fears, not exactly.

Was he connecting to Chris in some way?

Last night he'd seen Chris running down stone walls, looking for an exit. Wyatt had tried to call out for him, but his brother hadn't heard him.

Then the girl came, silver dagger in hand, eyes cold and unfeeling, and then Chris was bleeding.

Dying.

All over again.

Wyatt woke up screaming.

A night before he's seen Chris surrounded by demons. They overwhelmed him. Blood splattered on the wall.

Wyatt went demon hunting when he woke up. It was better than looking for leads that don't exist with the rest of his family.

In his worst nightmares, Chris was calling out to him. Calling out to his big brother to come and save him like he was supposed to.

A few nights before he'd dreamed of Chris freezing to death.

And before that he was burning.

And before that he was drowning.

And before that he was falling.

And every time Wyatt couldn't catch him.

~ Charmed ~

For the life of him, Chris couldn't figure out what game Lucifer was playing. Not that he'd had the time to actually stop and think.

First, he woke up inside a building that was on fire. Before he could even begin to consider escaping or helping, Lucifer's voice was whispering in his ear.

'Let yourself be saved. Maybe dramatize a bit.'

It would be hours until he figures out the man that saved him had sold his soul so he could be a hero on TV.

The he woke up in a Ninja Warrior Show with orders to win.

He could have won with his hands tied behind his back, which was great because he was extremely distracted by trying to figure out what the hell was all of this for.

He got his answer when he was on stage being presented the gold medal.

The man that got second place was shaking Lucifer's hand, looking determined.

A few hours later Chris woke up in Antarctica of all places.

No Lucifer this time. No whispers in his ears. He was still in his T-shirt.

And he couldn't orb.

Hours? Days? It was too cold to think. Chris thought it was kind of like Hell; very hard to keep track of time. He finally collapsed from exhaustion – or maybe it was hypothermia, and his last thought was 'Please, God, don't let me wake up on the rack.'

He woke up to rock walls and fire.

Hell. His mind supplied on autopilot, heart dropping.

Then his eyes readjusted, and he realized he's been here before, but with Wyatt.

The Underworld.

Not Hell. But close enough.

He had a long dagger in each hand, and he'd landed right in the middle of a demon nest startling a lot more demons than he managed to count.

Lucifer's voice was back.

'Take care of them.'

They almost got him a few times.

He had a bit of a whiplash from the sudden change in scenery, he didn't have any vanquishing potions on him, and he certainly didn't have time to figure out a rhyme for a spell.

But he got away with using a bit of telekinesis and had mostly gotten lucky. If he hadn't had years of memories of fighting for survival in an apocalypse world, he certainly wouldn't have made it out in one piece.

The second the fight was over the floor gave up under him and he landed in a giant maze. There was no light except for the occasional torch here and there, and the silence was unnerving him to no end, but it was a lot better than the rack or any other place.

Then the worst part came.

A girl, maybe late twenties, was standing in front of him. Another employee he guessed. Each of them had a dagger in hand.

A pit formed in his stomach.

What happened to her, to make a deal with the Devil?

What cursed life had she had? She'd have been a teen when she'd made the deal.

'Kill the other.' Lucifer ordered.

Both Chris and the girl froze.

'The one who wins gets a week off. The one who loses gets a year on the rack.'

That moment will haunt Chris for the rest of his life. He has never hesitated to protect someone before. He would have asked the girl to snap his neck before.

But now...

Now all he felt was determination.

He was not going back on the rack.

Not again. Not for her.

He rushed forward the same second the girl did and fought like he never fought before. He fought dirty. He fought to kill.

The girl must have been Lucifer's employee for longer than him. She managed to gut him eventually, all without flinching.

Maybe it was because she had experience killing. Maybe it was because Chris didn't have his powers. Or because he was simply not made for killing. But he'll never scrub off the darkness that clings to him now.

He might not have succeeded in killing her, but he had wanted to.

If she'd been less skilled, he would have killed her.

What did that say about him?

~ Charmed ~

Next:

'You sure there's nothing I can tempt you with, Twice-blessed? What about that little brother of yours – Chris, wasn't it?'