The Snow Gardens

by That Girl Six

Three weeks after Chris's death, the family is in pieces trying to find their way back to one another in all the wrong ways. As each deal with their grief, the future, past, and present all come into question while they try to save their broken family.

10. Who Brought the Knife to the Gunfight?

Chapter Ten
Who Brought the Knife to the Gunfight?

I.

While the family splintered off into groups to try to sort out their situation, Freya stepped away. She stood on the edge of the cliff and closed her eyes, letting a familiar feeling fall over her. She felt the essence of Chris wash over her, as if he'd never left. She let her memory focus on him and the memory of him until she had the connection she was looking for. Silently, she called out to him, summoning him to return to her.

Within seconds, a wisp of air circled around her to land at her side. After a crooked smile of greeting at the goddess he firmly counted among his friends (something she would no doubt find amusing if she had a human sense of humor), Chris looked around, seeing his family clustered not too far away from him. Quickly putting the pieces together, he quietly asked for confirmation. "They know?"

Freya only nodded.

"All of it? About Wyatt and the Elders and what happened to him?"

Again the goddess nodded, but this time she added, "As much as you allowed me to tell them, that is. After watching their reactions, I would agree: some things are better left unsaid when it comes to what came to pass between yourself, your brother, and the Elders. That is for you and you alone. Some of this, however, is not."

Chris nodded over his shoulder at his carbon copy and his brother. "How did they take it?"

"Better than your father," she said quickly. "Which is why I summoned you. You're going to be needed Up There. Your father has gone to confront the other Elders — "

"Oh, no," he groaned. Okay, seriously. How much more could this mess fall into the abyss of all messes? When were they going to figure out that they were only making things worse? Damn it! "No! He can't!"

"Chris, I can only tell your parents so much. There are some things that only you can tell, even with my knowledge of events. You have to tell Leo the rest, before it's too late." A little more pointedly, she said, "You have a few things you should tell them as well."

The young former Whitelighter shuddered and shook his head. Quietly he pleaded with her and any other gods that may be listening, "Maybe I don't have to."

"It was the right thing to say. If you think like a witch, like the warrior you are, you know I'm right. If you let the concerns of family and emotions cloud your judgement, you know I'm right when I say they'll only end up with you, waiting it out until another pair of them makes it back here the way the three of you have."

There was a guilt behind Chris's eyes as he said, "There are so many things that I did when I was alive that I am not in any way proud of. I did things that I still don't know how I did them. There are days when I wish I could take back so much of it. But what you're saying, it's a line that even I cannot cross. I can't."

"You still need to tell them," said Freya gently. She saw that look in his eyes, the one that had told her two years ago that he was going to have a hard time ahead. She knew now that he was not like her other warriors. He was going to carry his battle on until it was over for good. It would be with him, no matter what, even through and after death. With a coaxing hand, she turned him by the shoulder and said, "You don't have long before I should to send you to your father. Go do what you can."

His sarcastic smirk came back to his face instantly. He knew she secretly liked being teased by him and would gladly oblige her if it would ease both her tensions and his. With an appreciative glance up and down her perfectly toned body, he said, "You're a pushy little broad, aren't you?"

The goddess gave her warrior a shove in the right direction. "You like it when I push."

"No comment," said Chris brightly. Before he could change his mind, he jogged over to where his mother and her sisters were playing with the children, all looking more than a little worried. Their future counterparts were standing over them, watching the goings on and talking quietly between themselves, occasionally pointing at one of the adults as if trying to decide what their purpose or mission could be. Chris knew that expression on his own face so well; Christopher was getting close to something he didn't want to be close to. Well, if nothing else, Freya's summons had good timing.

At his side, Freya greeted them all, "I have some help for you."

"Hey."

The sisters all stood up immediately, mouths gaping like fish out of water in their surprise. Phoebe and Paige quickly recovered and smothered their nephew in hugs. Christopher and Wyatt both waved shyly at him, the awkwardness of the situation not lost on any of the once and future trio. Little Wyatt wrapped his arms around his mother's leg, unable to let go. Only Piper was left in shock, not knowing what to say to Freya or her guest. Piper's eyes darted between the two until she settled on the boy in the grey and yellow sweatshirt she remembered all too well and had envisioned stained with his life's blood. Of all the things she wanted to say, none of them were coming to her at the moment. Instead, all she could was, "How?"

"Regardless of where they decide to go, I always have the souls of warriors at my call," said Freya. "He is always mine to summon. Chris is needed; I called."

Chris smiled at his mother, walked up to her, and gently pressed a kiss into her forehead. When he pulled back away from her, he smiled and said, "It's going to be okay, Mom."

Before anyone could say anything else, Chris backed away, pulling his other self by the elbow away from the rest of them. As the others marveled at how strange it was to see the two of them talking to one another, having nearly synchronized facial expressions and mirrored stances, the two Chrises buried themselves in an all too brief conversation in hushed tones to keep the others out.

"You want the good news or the bad news first," asked Chris when they were out of earshot.

Christopher pulled whiskey face at his identical counterpart and asked, "Does it matter?"

"Probably not," said Chris. "Number one: when we're done here, tell your brother to relax. Gideon isn't here. I know he thinks he can hear him, but he isn't here. Even Gideon can't get through the walls into Valhalla."

"You were listening?"

"I was watching Little Wyatt this morning and overheard the two of you when I saw him drag you away to the front steps. I didn't mean to, but I . . ." said Chris all too quickly, looking down at his toes as if he were embarrassed. "My brother had that same look, like he always thought someone was listening. I kind of figured he was going to tell you something like that. I didn't mean to intrude. I know he's your brother, not mine, but he's still kind of mine, too. Keeping an eye on him is kind of all I have right now, at least until we know you guys are all safe. But you know what that's like, I guess." Slight confidence crisis averted, Chris perked back up and took charge again, saying, "Just tell him he's okay. As soon as he told you, I had a friend do some checking for me. Gideon is in the Underworld right now, biding his time until you all get back. You're safe for now. Which brings us to number two: He's in the Underworld."

"Meaning?"

"I don't know yet, but whatever it is, it can't be good. My source couldn't tell me any more than that. That, or he wouldn't. I'm kind of in trouble Up There right now, so he's probably trying to keep me from getting into any more. I don't know why. He knows I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, but he seems to . . ." Chris rolled his eyes at the gesture, even if he didn't agree with it. "Off track. Anyway, I don't know much more than that at this point. I would try to find out more, but it looks like you and I need to divide and conquer, so to speak. You're on your own to save Wyatt, I get to save Dad."

Thinking back to the drunken hazy memory of the conversation he had with his brother that early, early morning, Christopher wondered again, How much worse could it get? A lot worse. "How much trouble do you think he's in Up There? Have we messed things up too much in the timeline?"

Gravely, Chris answered, "I don't know. It depends on who I can get to listen to me, I guess. But I'll do everything I can to get him back home to you. I think you know a little girl who would like to come into existence at some point. Dad kind of needs to be around for that."

Christopher's face immediately perked up, catching on. "Is she okay?"

"She loved the toast," smirked Chris. "Yeah. She's okay. You know I can't tell you any more than that, though, right?"

"Go save Dad," said Christopher by way of answer, knowing that if he didn't send Chris on his way, he wouldn't be able to keep any promises not to ask all kinds of questions, both about Lucy and about all of the mess the entire family was in. Before he could send his twin on his way, though, he couldn't let the guy leave without at least some sort of Thank You and warning. Chris had done so much of the work before he had even come into existence. He knew that. So with nothing but earnestness, he said, "Chris? Be careful, okay? Wyatt will never forgive himself if anything happens to you Up There. He's having a hard enough time with the massive guilt trip he had yesterday. In a lot of ways, we both are."

"Yeah, I know. I heard . . . parts . . . "

From the congregation waiting for them, Freya's airy voice called out, "Chris!"

Without waiting to see what she had to say, Chris called back, "Yep!" His attention back on his other self, he said carefully, measuring his words, "Number three — and this is the biggie here — he's going to try to talk you out of this. You can't let him. This is going to take both of you."

"What are you talking about? How would you know? Considering that I'm the most recent timeline and I haven't been through this, shouldn't this pretty much fall into the 'Uncharted Territory' realm here?"

"Yes, and no. You and I may not be the same, and our Wyatts may not be exactly the same, but we are. I still am the only person who knows him as well as you do, and my Wyatt made it a lot further down the path to Evil than yours did. I know you can't see exactly what happened to me and my brother, but Freya has and can tell you. If you think about it, you'll know that that's how you knew you could save him, the same way I did. He's been in there the entire time trying like hell to keep you alive. This doesn't change that. He's going to try to talk you out of it. Trust me."

Reluctantly, Christopher agreed. "Okay. So, what does that mean?"

Chris shifted his weight, uncomfortable. He had known, particularly since his death, that he might have to pass this bit of knowledge on to someone in the family. He just never thought it would be to himself. He closed his eyes, trying to warm the block of ice in his gut that wanted to keep him from saying another word. He blew out one really hard breath, opened his eyes, and stared at this older but somewhat less experienced version of himself. "Before I came to the past, my brother did the same. He begged me to find a hole somewhere to hide in until he could fix things, even though we both knew he couldn't. When it was over, he made me promise something to him. I know that if he knew you were about to walk into this situation, he would give you the same advice. So here goes . . ."

While the two older Chrises talked, the youngest of the three started to quietly squirm, looking for some attention but not too much. His big brother seemed to catch on and wasn't nearly as patient or quiet about it. Grateful for the out the opportunity presented, Paige and Phoebe took the boys off to a hut Freya directed them to with plenty of food and naps to come.

Piper watched as the two versions of her son from the future talked animatedly with one another, both of them obviously not liking what the other had to say. A few times, Wyatt even made to start over toward them, but she held a hand on his arm to keep him where he belonged. "If they needed you for this, they would have called you."

Wyatt flinched, both at her touch and at her words. Thankfully for him, the two Chrises returned to the group, neither looking all that happy about their conversation. Wyatt asked the one he had always known as his brother, "What was that all about?"

"You really don't want to know," replied a grumpy Christopher. He tried to give his big brother a somewhat reassuring smile, though, as he said, "C'mon. We need to save your scrawny ass so that the rest of the family can get back to their normal lives." He pushed Wyatt ahead of himself and directed them over to where he and Chris had just come from. As he walked away, he turned around and walked backwards, looking at Chris. "For what it's worth, thanks."

Chris's nod was sharp as he said, "Get it done, for all of us."

"No pressure or anything, right," Christopher half gulped, half smirked.

"None whatsoever," Chris lied through his teeth, eyebrows raised and lips curled in gallows amusement. A strange look came over his face as he called out, "Hey, Wyatt?" When the elder man turned around, looking first at his live then dead brother, Chris said softly, "Take care of him. He's the only brother you're ever going to have, you know."

Wyatt gave Chris a somber nod, unable to say anything else to that. So many things were going to have to go unsaid about that one. He offered Chris a half smile then jogged off to where Christopher was heading back toward the edge of the cliff. To their backs, Chris whispered after them both, "Blessed be."

To get her other warrior back on track, Freya swept in next to Chris and Piper, smiling gracefully at them both. She put a hand on Chris's shoulder, strong and kind at the same time. She didn't know exactly what was going on in his soul at the moment, but she could see a distress in Chris's being that the others could not. She knew that look in his eyes. He didn't want to let go, not yet. She actually wished she could at least have understood his feelings, although she knew she should be glad that she couldn't. She was in control for a reason. His hesitation was costing him time that she knew he didn't have.

Quietly, Freya said, "Chris, you need to go. He needs you."

Upset that she had yet to have any time with her son and incredulous that anyone's needs would come before hers when it came to her son, Piper burst, "Who needs him?"

Chris gave his mother a sad smile to let her know he understood what she meant, even if Freya was a bit surprised at the question. He nodded at the goddess, saying, "On my way." To his mother, he said, "I'll get Dad back for you. Be ready for him. Once he's back, you have a lot of work to do."

With that, Chris disappeared with a wave of Freya's hand.

Piper said bitterly, "You could have at least let me say 'goodbye'."

"As I understand it," began Freya softly. "Chris has had far too much 'goodbye' in his lifetime. He makes it a point never to say the words. Given the circumstances, perhaps you should as well. Aren't your lives hard enough?"

Frustrated, Piper asked meanly, "Since when are you an expert on my son? You don't even have feelings."

Instead of reacting tot he obviously hurting mother, Freya said gently, "I have my ways. To put it in your words, I am an 'expert' on you as well."

Secretly Piper cringed. She hadn't meant to insult the goddess, especially after all she had and was doing for her family. But at the same time, she couldn't help but dislike that look in the Valkyrie's eye. It wasn't exactly malevolent, but it wasn't necessarily the kindest look either.

When Freya saw Piper step back a bit, she took it as a sign to go on. Her expression softened almost immediately as she began, "What I think about you and your family has no real bearing on what is to come in the next few hours and days. Beings with a great deal more powers than I are working both with and against you. I am already doing my part. I cannot interfere more than that. The rest is up to your boys now."

"Two brothers, two swords, is that it," asked Piper tiredly.

"Everyone has had a part to play, but yes. It is their future, after all."

"And I'm supposed to just sit here and wait?"

A secret smile played on Freya's lips. Chris had told her she would have to give the mother this advice. She just hoped it was good advice and that Piper would follow it. "You have to let them grow up some time."

II.

With all three Wyatt, Chris, and Paige asleep, Phoebe set out in search of her adult nephews. An idea had been niggling the back of her mind since Wyatt's panic attack the day before and she wanted to act on it before she lost the nerve. She found Christopher and Wyatt sitting under a tree, drawing plans in the dirt like little kids planning an assault on a sand castle. She almost didn't want to break them up, but she knew she had something to say that couldn't wait much longer. The closer she got to them, they quickly quieted what they were doing and waited, looking up at her expectantly.

"How's it coming," she asked.

"Eh," grunted Christopher, obviously not happy with the direction so far. "A clue, a clue, my big brother's kingdom for a clue."

"Right. Good luck with that," Phoebe drawled out long and slow. She pursed her lips at the eerie reference and changed gears, kicking her foot gently at Wyatt. "I need to borrow you for a minute. I'll bring you right back, I swear."

The brothers shrugged confusedly at one another, but Wyatt obediently hauled himself to his feet. As his aunt led him away toward the further edges of the jungle path Freya had guided them on, Wyatt gave one more glance over his shoulder at his brother, who he could feel was watching him very carefully. He raised his eyebrows at Christopher, who could only shrug back. This was a new one on them both.

When she thought they were far enough away from everyone, Phoebe turned and leaned her back against a tree. She was still pretty worn out of from her little excursion into Chris's mind and needed to take things as easy as possible. She had a feeling she would be feeling this way for a while. But this was too important, and if it worked, it would be more than worth it.

Seeing his aunt close her eyes in tiredness, Wyatt asked in concern, "You okay?"

"I am, sweetie," she said gratefully, even as she sunk down to the ground. "We just need to sit." Once comfortable, she gestured for her nephew to follow suit. As soon as he was equally settled, she commandingly reached over and took both his hands in hers to keep him from shying away from her touch. Both Chris and Christopher always pulled themselves away whenever someone tried to get too close to them. She had to assume Wyatt would be the same way. She wasn't going to leave it up to chance. She hoped he would understand the comfort she had in her hands as she took his. She was trying to do the right thing here.

Whether it was because he was tentative to say anything or because he was being polite enough to let her speak first since she'd called this meeting, Wyatt sat quietly, intently staring at his aunt. The stare was both interesting and frightening. So many things gone wrong, or just one . . . Until just yesterday this boy had been terrifyingly evil. Phoebe would know. She'd seen it. But then, she'd seen a lot of things.

Carefully, she asked, "So how are you doing?"

"Overwhelmed," the man said without hesitation. "Lost. I don't know. So much is missing, I don't know how to help the way I'm supposed to when I can't remember half of what led up to all of this in the first place. 'like I'm trying to fight the bad guys with one hand tied behind my back."

Sadly, Phoebe smiled at him. "What if I can help you with that?"

"You can give me my memories back? Since when?"

"Oh, no, I can't do that. And, truth be told, I don't think you want them back anyway."

"Christopher said the same thing," Wyatt puffed in irritation. "Why is everyone so afraid of me knowing what happened? Don't I deserve to know what this guy did with my body? Seven years is an awfully long time for him to do the kind of damage he did. He used me to torture and terrorize people for seven years, Phoebe. Why shouldn't I know what was done for me?"

Soothingly, Phoebe reached a hand over to cup her nephew's cheek. She ran her thumb over his cheekbone, trying to calm him the best she could. "Because some things in this world are better left unsaid, honey. You have seen through and suffered enough of it, I think."

"So keeping me all cloistered and protected like I'm as helpless as that baby over there is going to help me how?"

"I have an idea," she said slowly. She let her hand fall back into his and squeezed encouragingly. "I have no idea if this is going to work, but I have to at least try. You still have your Whitelighter abilities, correct?"

"Yeah. Those aren't affected by time travel."

"And if I've been paying enough attention over the years to your father, one of your abilities is to sense what your charges are thinking, right?"

"It isn't mind reading or anything, but it's sort of empathic, yeah," the man agreed. "I can only hear words when they're said out loud, but I can usually get a beat on what they're feeling if I concentrate right. Christopher was always better at that than me. He was the one who was more in tune with that half of the gene pool."

Phoebe smiled. "I don't think that's going to matter, not for this. I assume everything about what happened with me yesterday has been explained to you?"

"That you had Chris's memories and feelings and everything," he said, explaining as much as he knew.

"I did," she said. Then slowly, she said, "And I still do."

Worried, Wyatt immediately admonished her, "Phoebe!"

"No, no, it's okay," she quieted him quickly. "It can't hurt me anymore. It's just still there. Nothing new is going to happen. I just remember and can feel it if I think about it." Seeing her nephew relax but still regard her suspiciously, Phoebe smiled again. "It really is okay. I think it's how I can help you."

"How?"

"I want you to use your Whitelighter half to sense for Chris."

"I can't sense the dead."

"Not Up There," she said, shaking her head. She pointed at her own heart and said, "Here. I think that if I can concentrate hard enough on him and feel what he was feeling, you might be able to see something that I would really like you to be able to see. I think that the only way you're going to get through this long enough to help Christopher get us all out of this is for you to know what Chris knew. I think you need this. It won't answer all of your questions, and it won't fill the gaps in your memory, but it will give you something that the rest of us, including Christopher, can't." She saw her nephew open his mouth either to ask a million questions or to protest the entire thing, but she shooshed him with a sharp nod of her head. "I want you to do this, Wyatt. For Chris. He'll know you did this. Trust me; he'll know. I think it would make him happy. Please?"

Wyatt gave his aunt a skeptical crook of his eyebrow, but he did in fact close his eyes to do as she asked. He opened them again quickly to see what she was doing, but her eyes were closed in concentration. Her breathing slowed as she searched for whatever it was that she was looking for until she was in an almost trance-like calm that he could see. Knowing there was no turning back for her, he closed his eyes again and tried to concentrate on finding Chris in her. He thought of the guy who had spent so much time playing with them when they were kids hiding out in the snow gardens. He thought of the guy he had witnessed and since remembered the day before, the guy who had risked everything to help him. He thought of the look on his brother's face as he'd been taken away from him, trying to find that guy who was trying so hard to save him.

Before he knew what was going on, Wyatt could feel something that he didn't expect. He saw in his mind what he imagined came before the scene they'd all witnessed during Phoebe and Chris's life-flashing-before-his-eyes incident the day before. He felt Chris walking through the portal into the future, seeing his evil brother walking out in front of him. He felt Chris's fear, but he mostly felt Chris's conflict. He could feel that, even seeing the evil before him, he still loved the man in front of him too much to do anything but listen. But as soon as he grasped that feeling, he felt his brother's heart sinking in fear and turmoil. He was sitting in a room in the magic school, left alone with the toddler version of himself. No one else was around, but Chris was holding him so tightly that the little one might have suffocated if Chris had gripped him even tighter.

"I'm running out of time, Wyatt," he could hear Chris tell his little self. "I'm so scared. I am running out of time here and I don't know what to do. I know what you told me to do, but I can't. You looked so hopeless that night. I know you meant what you said, but I can't. You can't have been right. I won't let you be right."

Wyatt felt such terror in his brother's heart. He could tell. Chris was talking without thinking about what he was saying, too afraid to really know what was coming out of his mouth. He was sitting there, rocking the toddler to sleep, rubbing circles on his stomach to soothe them both. He could feel that it wasn't working. Before he knew what was happening, he could feel his brother crying and squeezing the baby even tighter.

"There isn't enough time. I don't know how to stop this, I can't . . . and there just isn't enough time! What are we going to do?"

The feeling Wyatt was getting quickly switched, as it did when Phoebe had Chris's memories. He had to follow the feeling to get to what she was seeing, but he eventually found them the way he had before. Sensing distress from Chris, he gripped onto it as tightly as he could until he could form a clear vision of what was going on. In Phoebe's head or Chris's or whoever's, Wyatt found himself in a blackness that sickeningly reminded him of the flashing coldness of his own memories. He tried to keep focus though as he felt that he wasn't alone this time.

It took him a moment, but he realized that the feeling he was getting from Chris was horribly familiar. Chris was fading, quickly, the poison of a Darklighter arrow creeping its way through his veins to his heart. There wasn't much time left at all. In the darkness of what seemed to be a blackened room, Wyatt could feel Chris wanting his brother. He saw a much younger version of himself, maybe sixteen, throw a symphony of orbs into the darkness as he dropped to his knees in front of Chris. The sheer joy Chris felt at that moment was overwhelming to Wyatt. He had no idea what was going on, but he knew it was important to them both somehow. Wyatt felt the warmth spread through Chris as his other self's hands did their magical healy thing, fighting to bring a weak, terrified Chris back from the brink of the unspeakable. When he was done, Chris clung to him, small and afraid.

"I didn't think you'd get here," Chris told his brother, shivering in his brother's arms. "I felt Mom and then I couldn't feel you or her or anyone."

"No matter what happens in this world or any other, Chris, I'll always come for you. Okay? It's just you and me. We're all we've got. Nothing can change that. Hell or high water, little brother. "

Wyatt knew there was more to the memory, things he probably didn't want to know, but he didn't have the time to concentrate enough to find out what it was. Instead, he held tight onto Chris's essence and let it lead him to where it wanted to go. He could feel that same warmth, only sadder this time, as he heard himself say that same thing to his brother again.

"You said that to me before," said Chris, sounding near tears. "You remember?"

Wyatt saw his other self nod solemnly, tears in his own eyes. "I meant it then and I mean it now. When you're there, I want you to remember that. I can't help you there, but I want you to remember this night. That's how I'll come for you. You have to do this for the both of us, but I will never be far, not if you hold on to this."

"You were always my big brother, you know. I never thought otherwise."

Wyatt could feel his brother fighting within himself again. Chris wanted so much for them to be able to sit there and stay that way forever. He wanted them to be able to forgive and forget and let it all be okay. But then Chris's gaze lingered too long on the shocked white hair and scars on his brother's face and knew that there was no way that they could ever let that just be. Without caring what would happen to him if he did it, Chris reached forward and pulled his brother to him in what must have been the first hug they had shared in years. Chris felt like he would explode, there was so much energy going through him, good and bad. Over the years, Chris had wanted to kill him and save him, sometimes both in the same breath. But this was it. This was the moment. Everything came together in that one moment for Chris. Months later, seeing his brother in the attic with Bianca had only been a reminder of what he would one day lose if he hadn't been successful. Everything became about this one moment.

"I love you, little brother," the tortured, destroyed Wyatt whispered huskily.

Wyatt felt Chris's heart swell at hearing the words. He'd waited so long to hear those words. Gruffly, Chris had said, "I love you, too."

They sat there, Wyatt feeling the joy coming from his brother's memory as he hugged so tightly to his brother. He also felt the sadness and fear take him over once more as his brother said sadly, "I have to go."

Chris sniffed and pulled away with foreboding, even if the smart ass in him needed to try to salvage the last few seconds he was to have with his brother. As straight as he could say it, he said, "I have to save the world."

The laugh that Wyatt wanted to stifle came out anyway, pulling him away from Chris's mnemonic essence. When he heard Phoebe laugh as well, it severed the connection for good, tumbling them both back out of the netherworld of memory and back into the paradise that was Valhalla. Wyatt fell back a little, overwhelmed. He didn't know what to say, not in the least.

Phoebe collected herself and watched her nephew, trying to gauge what Wyatt was thinking. If the spell had been all about Personal Gain for her, it still had come with something she could use. It wasn't what she'd expected to get out of it, but if it could help Wyatt then it was worth it. Softly, she asked, "Well?"

"I don't know what to say."

"What did you feel?"

"He was scared. He was so scared. I put that there. I made him afraid."

Gently, Phoebe tried to steer her nephew in the right direction. "No, honey, that's not what I was going for there. What else did you feel?"

"When did this become a test? I don't get the right answer and suddenly I — "

"Okay, sorry. I didn't mean it like that. Listen, while all of this has been happening the last few weeks, I've tried to ask Chris a question. I wanted to ask him why he did it. I know all the stuff about wanting to have his family and to have them all be safe, but why? I wanted to know what had been so great a motivation for him that he would kill and lie and risk his own existence. I didn't expect to get an answer, but every time I wondered that, that series of memories came back to me, just as I made it do for you. It's usually a quick flash, and I tried to slow it down for you, but it's all there. Everything I needed to know is right there."

"And that is?"

"He didn't do this because he loved you, Wyatt. He did it because you loved him." Phoebe pointed over to where Christopher was sitting with Freya, deep in conversation. "So did Christopher. You didn't hear him yesterday morning. I did. I know he thinks I didn't, but I did. The thing that keeps him going is knowing that, somewhere in all of the confusion and terror and everything that's happened to the two of you, you still love him. You want to know why he's so determined? You want to know why he doesn't want you to know about what happened while you were gone? That's why. Because he knows you love him. And he knows that if you knew the truth, it would destroy you. He would rather hold on to the memory that you loved him and that he has a chance to save you than to have to give you what he would rather be able to take away."

"What is it with this family and martyrdom? Seriously. We need to work on that in this next generation because I know you guys are already doomed." Wyatt looked down at his hands, oddly in the same manner Christopher had a habit of doing. He couldn't help but feel a little guilty at the pleasure he was getting knowing that his brother had put so much importance in even the hope that they were still brothers. "Okay, so he had a feeling. But how does that help us now?"

"I want you to remember how Chris felt seeing his brother in the attic. I didn't know what it meant at the time. It wasn't until Freya said something about it that I even focused on how changed Wyatt was to him. The two of them agreed that the only way to save themselves was for them to go their separate ways so that, one day, you wouldn't have to. I'm hoping that this is that day. Do this together, knowing that you have a bond that no one, not even the most powerful Elder, can break. That bond between you survived death, it survived torture and unspeakable evils, and it survived to come to you, even if it's only a sensed memory. That's something that even someone like Gideon can't take away. You have to forgive yourself and let that bond do what it was meant to do for you."

Wyatt let the advice sink in slowly, looking for what she wanted him most to see. After a beat, he knew what he wanted to see. Unsure of his footing with his aunt, he asked cautiously, "This isn't a test?"

"No."

"So then there is no wrong answer if I ask you something?"

"What are you thinking?"

Wyatt glanced over in the direction of the brother he had known his entire life and tried to focus on him for a moment. He thought of everything that Chris had gone through for him, of everything that they both had lost. It still seemed so unreal to him in what remained of the haze on his mind, and yet, it seemed so natural. It seemed almost destined that they should be here at the moment, just as Chris and his brother had been that night that they had said 'Goodbye' to one another forever. He saw his brother gesturing animatedly at the Valkyrie goddess in front of him and got a chill. He didn't know what it was, but something told him that Destiny wasn't just playing with him at the moment. Destiny was trying to hit him over the head with an industrial sized mallet.

Only looking for a little more direction now, Wyatt asked, "Can you do that for me again? I think there's one other thing that you can help me with if you let me see Chris again."

Skeptic but definitely interested, she asked, "Like what?"

"When Chris was rocking me to sleep that day, he said something about his future brother telling him what to do but that he couldn't do it. If I knew what that thing was, maybe it would be what we need to finish this."

"I don't know," said Phoebe, shaking her head.

"Can we try? Please? You've done it once already. It wouldn't be any more of an invasion that it already was." When his aunt still looked at him like she was leery of the idea, Wyatt said, "If you don't, I'll just ask Freya."

"I didn't say I won't do it, Wyatt," Phoebe argued with him like he was still a child pouting over a rained out trip to the zoo. "You have to understand, this isn't exactly an easy thing for any of us. We're all doing our best, but having you sit here and say 'please' is a little much sometimes. I don't know about the others, but I myself am having trouble keeping from flashing back to all of the things we heard about you not forty-eight hours ago. I want to believe that you are asking this for Christopher's good and for your own, but it takes some getting used to. You know what? I'm sorry. Let's start that over again, okay?"

Surprised by her answer, Wyatt's eyes dropped to the grass in front of him. It was really fascinating grass. Softly, he mumbled, "I understand."

"No, honey, you don't, but that's what we're doing here. We're going to fix this so that you never have to understand it." A small grunted laugh escaped her throat. Her nephew looked at her, confused, until she chuckled at him again. "If ever there was a time that I needed to have my powers . . . "

"You're telling me," the man grumped, prompting them both to crack up laughing. The desperation of their situation was suddenly funny beyond all belief, though neither of them really knew why.

When their laughter died down, so did Phoebe's anxiety. Ready to give saving her nephews yet another shot, she said, very gung-ho, "All right, Mister. Go for it. We've got a future to save."

III.

Leo had never told anyone about it, but in the moments before he died, he had wished for this. He'd been working on saving the life of one of his soldiers, a guy whose name he didn't even know. He knew that he'd thrown his body over the kid's, who couldn't have been more than nineteen, as another shell hit not too far from where they were. When he'd pulled back up to get back to work, there had been a smile on the boy's face. He'd looked even younger in that moment, but his eyes had looked so old. To keep the boy talking, Leo had asked him, "What are you thinking about?"

"A world without this," the kid had said. "I know we'll never see a good world, but do you think there are good people where I'm headed?"

The question had so surprised Leo, but it had brought a smile to his face, even in the midst of the screams of the battlefield, both human and mechanical. Not twenty feet away, a boy of Leo's own age lay crying, telling the chaplain how much he missed his mother and brother. A flash of thought came to Leo, and he smiled down at the boy he was trying to save. "You know, I think there are." He thought of his father and all the good he'd done, of his mother and how kind she had been even on her worst day, and of the people who had come in and out of their house in the parade of travelers during the Depression years. He thought of the kindness of the tall, moustached man who had returned his baseball to him when he'd thought it lost. They would all be going someplace nice with good people when it was their turn. They had to; they were too good not to. Gently, Leo had told the kid, "I know there are."

As Leo orbed away from his family in Valhalla to the heavens of Up There, he thought of that kid. He'd had freckles and a scar beneath his lip. He'd been trying so hard to be brave, to not cry for his mother, even though they were so far from home and he'd felt so afraid. But somehow, their conversation had made them both feel better about their world. There were good people out there somewhere, people who had the luxury to never have to think about what was happening to them. It was hard to distinguish good from bad on the battlefield. They knew what they were supposed to think, but how could they know for sure?

It was that question that plagued his mind as he felt his body coming back together out of the shroud of orbs. Do you think there are good people? He used to believe that he'd given the kid a good answer. Now he wasn't so sure. He wasn't sure of much of anything anymore. He was, however, quite sure that he wasn't amongst the good people now. Going into this battlefield, he didn't think there were any good people Up Here at all, not after everything he'd seen. And if this was where the good people were supposed to go — what happened to them?

The normal drop that Leo felt when he orbed Up There sunk so much deeper than it ever had before. He oddly wondered if he should look down and pick his heart up off the floor because it felt like it had fallen right out of his shoes. For sixty years, this place had been a part of his home. Somehow, he knew that when he left here today, he wouldn't be coming back. Ever.

And somehow, he couldn't be asked to care.

In a safe place behind one of the nondescript white pillars of the Elder haven, Leo still heard the shouts of his family on the island sanctuary below. A few choice words from Piper told him that he wasn't going to fare much better down there unless he came back to them with good news. He quickly realized that this was hardly the time to be worrying about that yet, and tried to block out their demands and questions from his head. His head needed to be Here. This was going to be the deal of his life. He couldn't afford any distractions whatsoever.

The angel stepped out from behind the pillar and glanced around at the others mingling in the gathering hall. No one seemed to notice his arrival. If They had, They were doing Their very best to ignore him. He sensed randomly throughout the group until he found the fellow Elder he was looking for. With one steeling breath, he stormed across the hall and unceremoniously snatched Octavius from the shelter of the group.

"You and I need to talk," Leo fumed as They made Their way toward a private chamber twenty feet away.

For his part, the Elder and ranking member of the Council of Founders let himself be dragged away. In his years, far too many for him to remember exactly how long he had been here at all, none of his charges had ever dared challenge him. To be manhandled by such a small being as this foundling Elder was almost amusing. He had cheered Leo Wyatt on in most of his endeavors over the last sixty years. To have the angel swarming around him like a little summer gnat couldn't hurt. If it ended all of the nonsense from the Charmed Ones, so be it. He'd about had it with that entire family, Charmed or otherwise.

When they were alone, Octavius raised his hands and held them out to his sides in a peaceable greeting that looked much more like a benediction. "Leo? Is there something wrong?"

"I know what You've done."

"I don't — "

"I know everything, You sonofabitch!"

Leo's tight-teethed seethe wasn't quite quiet enough. Several robed heads turned in the direction of the foundling Elder and the Councilman. Leo could practically feel Their eyes upon them. In the heat of the moment, he quickly changed courses with his plan an addressed Them all, no longer caring which of Them was directly to blame. In his eyes, They all were to blame. Angry tears egged him on, staining his face with reminders of what his life had become in the last few weeks. His and his loved ones' pain needed to be seen, not hidden from the removed Elders like the pain of the rest of the world. Maybe if They could see what They do, maybe They would finally understand that They cannot mess with people's lives like They did, like the world was a playground or lab experiment. Either way, he was sick of Their bullying.

"Do any of You understand that they were children? They are children!"

Immediately, Leo knew he'd walked right into a trap as the words that had been thrown at him that day fell from the Elder Marv's lips as they had so easily before. "They are all your children, Leo. We cannot distinguish between them. The good — "

"DON'T TELL ME — " Leo started, but collected himself. He would have to at least try to be civil if he was going to get any kind of agreement out of Them. Coolly, he started again, "Do not tell me that any of this was for anyone's good. It wasn't for a greater good. It was a misguided attempt at self-preservation, nothing more, and You know it!"

One of the few friends Leo had ever felt he'd had Up There spoke up, coming out from behind the circle that was gathering around the grieving father. His eyes were kind and as close to understanding as an Elder's could be as he said, "They don't all know, Leo."

"Zola?"

"It was the Council, Leo. When Chris began his journey to save his brother, he did not know which of Us were responsible. Only the Council was aware of the attempts to understand Wyatt's place in the world."

Accusingly, Leo asked, "How would you know?"

In a stage voice, Zola announced, "This is between Leo and the Council of Founders. The rest of you, you have charges to look after. Your business here is over." Without argument, the rest of the Elders and even a few Whitelighters scattered around the hall to whatever duties They had been in the middle of performing when They had been interrupted. As holes appeared in the circle, twelve bodies remained surrounding Leo. Zola smiled again at the boy he had watched grow up, a hint of sadness there in his eyes. If only things had worked out as intended. Leo had always been meant to be his charge, not Gideon's. Perhaps all of this could have been avoided. And yet, there was nothing to be done now but try to fix things as he'd been trying now for much longer than any of the others knew.

Carefully, Zola guided Leo into the anteroom away from the prying ears of the others, just in case. The other members of the Council followed behind, faces hidden under hoods. When They had all entered and the door was shut behind Them, Zola began, "Leo — "

"You killed my son. You looked into the future and saw — I don't know — something, and you tried to kill Wyatt before he was even born!"

"He is evil, Leo," started the small, wrinkled old man Leo only knew by name, Al.

"NO, HE ISN'T!"

"We saw it," said Al again in that same eerily calm voice the other Elders all had as well. It was spooky the way They all seemed to be in a trance when They talked, which only served to anger Leo even more. For the first time in his very long life, the serenity seemed so phony he wanted to wretch right over all of Their holier-than-thou Birkenstocked feet.

The words came out as Leo was thinking them, putting together the pieces that he guessed he would have heard from Freya had he stayed around to ask the right questions. He didn't know how he knew he was right, but he did. Seeing his brethren for the first time as They truly were, Leo accused Them all: "You saw the future that You created! You saw what would happen if you tried to kill Wyatt. I still don't know how he found out, but that's what Chris discovered. He knew You were responsible for what happened to all of us, to Paige, to the world. You released the Titans. You are responsible for that world. Chris never would have tried to confront You if You hadn't created all of the mess that his world had been in. Wyatt certainly wouldn't have tried to save him from dying at Your hand. Wyatt was never responsible for that world that Chris came from; he never had a choice in becoming what he became, not when You had Gideon dogging him and losing his brother being his only other option. There was never a choice for either of them, all because of You!"

From the doorway, a small but confident voice said, "You forgot the part where, had my brother not come back from the future to warn me, he would have killed me, after pretty much giving up his own soul to save mine. And you forgot the part where They erased my memories of all of it. But otherwise, you're doing a pretty good job catching us all up."

Leo blinked a couple of times in the direction of his son, who had slipped into the doorway at some point that no one noticed. He looked into the boy's eyes, saw immediately what he was looking for, and breathed, "Chris?"

Casually, the man crossed the distance between himself and his father. When he reached Leo, he clapped the angel's shoulder in a reassuring sign then said, "I've got this, Dad."

"Chris?"

The newly-dead boy glanced around the room at the hooded figures until he found the one he was looking for. With a lower, almost growled tone to his voice, he said, "We've been doing this now for a few weeks, haven't we, Octavius?"

"To which We have all told you, young man, this discussion is not at all warranted. We do not answer to lower beings such as yourself."

Chris narrowed his eyes on the Elder he now knew to be the Chairman of the Council of Founders. Slowly, carefully, he said, "Maybe not, but you do have to answer to the other Elders and the Whitelighters. And I'm thinking it's about time that They got to hear about what's been done in Their name lately." With a wave of his hand, the twelve foot high double doors that closed them off from the rest of the heavens opened. A few heads turned in their direction as Chris called to them, "You guys might want to hear this!"

As one of the few on the Halliwells' side, Zola tried to hide a smile at the same time as he chastised Chris, "This is between you and the Council, Chris. The balance is going to be hard enough to restore after the breech in trust of a very select few. Please, let's not make this any harder than it should be."

Incredulous, Leo said, "Balance? Is that all is this is to you? Gideon was one of You. This 'very select few of You' murdered my son! You kidnapped the other. But all You can talk about is balance? Do You have any idea what You — "

Putting a staying hand on his father's forearm, Chris stepped forward in an attempt to at least partially shield his father from view of the others. He was more dead than his father. Leo needed to be a lot more careful than he did, especially if he wanted to be only dead enough to still see his kids grow up. When his father did in fact stop, Chris told Zola with wry, measured words, "It's kind of interesting having my memories back now that I'm dead. It seems to me that you told me the same thing when I confronted you before. How many more times are we supposed to replay all of this before you straighten up this mess you created?"

There was a certain amusement that Leo got from hearing his son address the Elders in such a way. He didn't hear the automatic capital letters in Chris's speech that seemed to edge his own pronouncement of their names after sixty-plus years of service. To Chris, his superiors weren't 'the Elders' or 'You' or 'They' to him; they were just 'you'.

Al piped up at the child who dared to question Their authority, "There would be no replays, as you have called it, of any of this had you let us do what was necessary in the first place."

Still attempting to keep his cool (although Leo could see his boy was getting very, very close to losing it), Chris asked, "Who gave you the authority to do anything? Until he accepted his duties as Whitelighter, my brother was of no concern to you. Beyond his responsibilities to the magical world — which he was in no way prepared to fulfill before he was even born, thank you very much — he was none of your business."

The old, old man's eyes nearly fell out of his head at the audacity of the child's remarks. He stammered, "You . . . You dare to q-question the authority of this council?"

"The way I understand it, Wyatt was a gift to my parents from the angels of Destiny for, among other things, everything that they had suffered under your thumb. I realize that that sounds ridiculous and over-sentimental because every parent thinks their kid is a gift, but in Wyatt's case, it was literally true. Forget the prophecies for a moment, because, quite frankly, I don't think they're worth the paper they're supposedly written on. Destiny brought Wyatt into this world, not the high and mighty elders. You had no right to interfere."

Leo didn't exactly realize the effect that his son's words were having on him until it was too late. He felt such an anger building in him, something he knew he had only felt in one moment during his entire eighty-seven years. Without thinking about it at all, his fingers started twitching. Lightning started crackling in between his knuckles, snapping in the air.

Chris felt the energy building in his father, but wasn't immediately sure what it was. Just like he was with his brother, he was connected to his father through their altered Elder genetics. As he could sense when one of his charges was in trouble, he could feel it now in his father. At first he thought it was only anger, justifiable and relatively harmless. Then he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, not from chills but from the electric current that was balling his father's hands into fists. He felt himself trail off, his father's pain too much of a distraction for him to continue his rant against the Founders' Council. After a quick glance at his grieving father, Chris stopped altogether and planted himself at his Leo's side.

"Dad," started Chris softly, almost in a whisper that might as well have been a shout in the stunned silence of the anteroom. It seemed that the other Elders in the room were paying at least a little attention to the Wyatt men, even if it was only because it was Their lives under threat.

Leo started to charge forward, unable to hold in his rage any longer. Words weren't working. Maybe a little good old fashioned wall to wall counseling would. His fists finally lit up, ready to take out anyone who got in his way.

Before he could get too far, Chris grabbed his arm. "Dad, no."

Leo whipped his arm from his son's grip, turning on him with wild eyes.

"Dad!" Chris pulled roughly on his father's arm, half dragging him away and behind a pillar. He knew the others weren't going anywhere; they could finish this when Leo was calmed down again. It wasn't like he didn't have an entire afterlife to get something accomplished. Once his back was shoved up against the pillar, Leo struggled against his son's grip, forcing Chris to grab the man's chin to get his attention. He held his father's face so tightly in his hand that he startled himself. He had never manhandled his father in his life, except for that time in the spider demon's cave. But just as he had done with Phoebe, he had this one last chance to take charge and he wasn't going to waste it.

"Dad, you need to hear me. I don't know if you were right about it then, but you're right about it now: my coming here wasn't only to save Wyatt; it was to save us, too. I can't do that if you're dead. There is no future for Wyatt and Christopher if you die up here today. You need to calm down, and you need to get back down there. They don't have much time. Gideon is on to them. You have to go, now, before you do something you can't take back."

Frustrated beyond all belief, Leo snapped, "And then what?"

"What?"

"And then what, Chris? What do I do then? I'm done exchanging one set of lives for another. This has to end."

In one of the few times that Chris knew he could allow himself to really need his father in this time, he completely let himself go. The vulnerability in his voice hurt his own ears, so he could only imagine what it was doing to his father as he said, "Please? I have never asked you for anything, but I'm asking now. I don't know what's supposed to happen to Christopher, Wyatt, Lucy, and me with all of our timelines so screwed up, but I know that we all want the same thing; we all want our big brother to be safe. We want our parents to be there for us not just when we're growing up. I never got to know you, not really. I know that now. I never knew the guy that you are now. I never got the chance. I was too busy getting shuffled from one safe house to another, being kept away from you for so many reasons that . . . That part doesn't matter anymore. What matters is that you have this last chance to fix it all. Please, let me fix things up here so that we can all go home. You aren't needed up here. You're needed down there."

Leo's voice was downright furious as he asked his child, "And do what? Abandon you again?"

Chris blinked at his father, surprised. After a quiet beat, he narrowed his eyes. "You didn't abandon me. I told you to go. Sure, I needed you, but Wyatt needed you more."

"You're a twenty-three year old kid, my twenty-three year old kid. I never should have listened to you."

The logic of it, though secretly heartwarming to Chris, was still crazy monkey logic at best. Bluntly, he asked, "What about Wyatt? Were you supposed to leave my two year old brother to fend for himself? You may want to be Superdad, but even Superdad can't be in two places at once."

"There had to be another way."

A gentleness overcame Chris as he looked at his father, seeing now how badly the angel was beating himself up. He'd known it was bad; he just didn't know how bad. He'd been so busy watching Wyatt over the last three weeks that he had hardly had time to concentrate on what was happening with everyone else. Okay, that was a lie. He could have paid attention but didn't want to. He hadn't wanted to see what his death was going to do to them. It was like what he imagined it was like to watch your own funeral. It was just too creepy and seemed like such an invasion. But now, seeing the angry guilt manifesting in the still crackling blue of lightning between his father's knuckles, Chris wished he would have paid a lot more attention . . . and that there was something he could have done about it. Soothingly, he tried to help his father in the only way he knew how — with brutal honesty. "There was no other way."

"There had to be. There had to be a way that we could have saved you both."

"Even if there was, we didn't find it."

Leo choked, "You're my son, my responsibility."

"So is Wyatt."

"I should have found a way."

Chris's voice was still low and calm as he said, "Dad, I . . . You tried. You did everything you could. You still are. Wyatt survived the day, and right now, I need you to go back and help him to survive the rest of however many days are his to have. Please, do this for me." Trying desperately now to get his father back on track, Chris laid down the guilt trip that he knew would kick his father into gear, the one that he knew he was only ever going to be able to play the once. Even though it bothered him to be so blatantly manipulative of his own father now, he knew he had no other choice. He forced a little extra pathos into his voice as he said, "You have to take care of him down there for me because I can't, not anymore."

The fight now going out of his hands, Leo started sadly, "Chris — "

"I'm a big boy. I can handle myself up here just fine."

Leo looked at the determined set to his child's eyes, the ones so like his mother's and his own, and knew then that he did still have a chance to save both sons. The strength recovered in his voice as he decided for them both, no arguments accepted, "Wyatt is protected in Valhalla, especially with your mother, aunts, brother, and Christopher there. I'm not leaving here until you are safe as well."

"Not necessary."

"I'm your father. Of course it is."

A bashful but grateful smile flooded Chris's features before he could stop it. "Thanks, Dad." With a half a chuckle, he looked down at his father's hands pointedly and said, "Now put those things away before you hurt someone." When he got the laugh that he wanted, the one that broke the tension and relaxed his father, he grinned even more. With a nod around the pillar toward where the council members were still milling around agitatedly, he asked, "Ready for round ten?"

"Ready when you are."

"They won't know what hit them," said Chris with a wink. Without any further motivation, he stepped out from behind the pillar and marched across the room, not a hint of doubt in his movements. Leo followed close behind, ready to help his son but willing to let him be in charge of his own destiny for once. For the first time, it felt good. He didn't know how long that feeling would last, but for now, it was nice.

When he was about to breach the group, Chris called out cheerily, "Okay, boys, let's talk!"

After a quick raised set of eyebrows of obvious enjoyment from Zola, the Elder said, "Chris, I realize that you are in a delicate situation here, but it might be wise to remember to speak with at least a modicum of respect. Whether you agree with their tactics or not, the members of the Founders' Council are still the guiding force in the world of good."

"Watch my language; got it," said Chris sharply. "So here's how it's going to work: This time, no interruptions. I talk, you listen." He paused for a moment, looking for argument. A few mouths opened in protest, but Zola's steadying hand stopped them and told Chris to go on. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, he started, "For the last three weeks, you've blown me off. This time, you're going to listen to me. Considering that, among all of us, I'm the only one here who has actually been to the future, I think I'd know a lot more about it than any of you would. So here's a little glimpse into the future for you: one of the lessons you're all so fond of trying to teach Phoebe is that gazing into the future, with premonitions or otherwise, is guess-work at best. Her visions are one possible future, should she be unable to fix what it is you want her to fix. Did it never occur to you people that the thing you saw in the future was only one possible outcome with me?"

Interrupting despite the request to do otherwise, Zola asked, "With you?"

"Yeah, that tidbit seems to get left out of the history books up here, doesn't it? What Octavius and his Council O'Busybodies here saw that first time they dropped their crystal ball was me storming around up here, killing all of them after finding out that they had set the Titans free in the first place. Only they didn't realize that I wasn't Wyatt. They thought I was him come to destroy them. That's why they took their little 'Kill Him Before He Kills Us' stance. They sent Gideon to the demon who set the Titans free to give them specific order to kill Wyatt. They created that future."

For the first time in the entire two years that he had known his son, Leo heard guilt in the witch's voice. It was something that, if he didn't know Chris at least as well as he did, he never would have heard it, but it was there. Not once in all of this had it ever crossed Leo's mind that his son could feel in any way guilty or responsible about what had happened to his brother. Granted, Chris hadn't had the memories that had been stolen from him upon his arrival, but still. There had always been determination, sadness, and a great deal of over-protectiveness, but never had there been guilt. To hear the slight crack of it in his son's voice now toppled the tower of pain that he had been building over the last three weeks. He knew then; no matter what, there was no getting any of this back. The Elders could welcome him back with open arms, swear to never interfere again, and everyone could make amends, but it would never, ever erase this. There was absolutely no going back.

Not knowing what his father was thinking about, Chris was still going on, all of the pieces together for him now that he had his memories. "Only, I never got around to taking any of you out, did I? I was too young when I found out what was going on. Granted, it would have been warranted, if you ask me. Everything I had in my life was gone but Wyatt, and that was only because the few of you who had lived that long had forced Dad to put us into hiding. You thought we'd keep each other out of trouble long enough for you to figure out what do to about me — or Wyatt, according to whatever crack you were smoking that day you saw me. You never imagined that I would actually find out and tell Wyatt all about what I knew. You never thought I would put that kind of idea into his head, knowing how unstable our lives already were because of everything you had done to us. But then, I never imagined he would try to save me by taking my place, either. You got that part, right? My brother pretty much gave up his soul to save me from you. Not that it was too hard for him to give up, not after what Gideon did to him."

Leo knew that the 'No Interruptions' rule wasn't intended for him, and quietly interrupted, needing an answer. He needed to know if his son had been forced to live, twice, with what Gideon was currently doing to his son now. The thought of the scars and terror done to his boy's body made the question burn for him. He had to know, especially now that Chris remembered everything. He needed to know everything. "What did he do?"

Chris gave his father a dark look, one that hurt Leo to look at. He wasn't going to like the answer at all. But Chris also knew that Freya was right; his father needed to hear it all now that it was something he was able to tell. His voice was a little more gentle, at first, as he directed the answer first to his father then to all. "We were right that day. When they gave their little crystal ball another rub and realized that their efforts hadn't saved themselves from me or Wyatt, Octavius and a few of the others got it into their heads that they needed to find another solution. The idea was to snag Wyatt and bring him up here where they could do whatever it was that they thought they needed to do to force him to be good. Only that's where things got tricky. They didn't know just how crazy Gideon had become. Instead of bringing Wyatt up here to torture, he took him down to the Underworld to do it there. Dad, we were right. Gideon had him for almost ten days before you could find him. By then, Gideon had worn him down so much that it wasn't all that hard for him to take almost immediate control instead of having to wait it out like he has in Christopher and Wyatt's timeline." A darkness that Leo didn't recognize in his son, one that glared of hatred and fury took over Chris's entire frame as he turned his generally well-controlled anger on the council members. "We were right."

Zola saw the look as well and took a few steps closer to Chris, trying to be the peacemaker between them all. "And that's something we're all — "

"I SAID — " started Chris warningly. He had died because of these people; he was going to have his say whether they liked it or not. Tensely, he said, "'No interruptions'. But hey, I guess that's okay because it makes it a little easier for me to get to the point. None of this had to happen in the first place . . . or second place, however you want to look at it."

Again Zola interrupted, but this time it was a question, not an interruption. "Chris?"

"Yeah, that's the other part that seems to get left out of the Council Press Packets, isn't it," said Chris with an extra bite directed at Octavius. He really hated that guy. Granted, no one knew why but himself, Wyatt, Freya, and the Elder. This was one secret that none of the others could possibly know. Well, it was about damned time they learned. He kept his eyes glued to a suddenly nervous-looking Octavius as he announced to the others, "Wyatt asked him to put an end to all of this a year before I even came here."

"What?!" Leo's jaw dropped as he reached forward, grabbed his son by the shoulder, and turned the witch around to face him. "He did what?"

Chris took a step back so that he was even with his father. This was getting to the part that he knew his father knew nothing about. Freya was right; he deserved to know, if for no other reason than that maybe then Leo would understand why he had fought so hard to save his brother, even after his own death. The other Elders deserved to hear this as well. So much had been done in their name that it was only right that they should know.

"In our altered timeline, the one I remember where Wyatt came up here instead of me, Wyatt would eventually kill me. After he did, he spent a year trying to find a way to stop all of this from happening. That includes coming to the past to try to fix it, although he did it differently than I did. He went straight to the source." Chris now turned a dark eye on Octavius, accusing him directly in front of all of the others. His finger jabbed at the councilman's chest, telekinetically shoving him back and back until he backed into another pillar. "The night he came to me to send me back here he told me that he had tried already to reason with you. He stood there in front of you, the future you created manifested right in front of you, and begged you to stop it all before it could start. If only you didn't set the Titans free, none of it would happen. Paige wouldn't have died; Gideon never would have kidnapped him. All of the fallout from that decision you made to kill him wouldn't have to happen if you could just see reason. All you did was throw that word in his face that you have labeled him with since before he was even born."

"Abomination," the Elder seethed.

"Yeah, that one, jackass. You reversed his time-travel spell without even hearing him out. That was when he knew that he had to get me to do it instead of him. He thought that if you didn't know who I was, you would listen to me. He didn't know that you had mistaken me for him, and since knew who I was. Of course, it would have helped if you hadn't erased my memories when I got here. Once the sisters defeated the Titans, I could have helped you then if you weren't so damned determined to erase my brother's existence."

"Is this true," asked the Elder called Sandra. She drew down her hood to reveal a very concerned face under amusingly (to Chris) static-afflicted blonde hair. She sounded both aghast and saddened when she turned on her boss. "Could all of this have been avoided?"

Fiercely, Octavius snapped, "Even if it is, at least one of those boys has been lost to the darkness in every time line we have encountered. It is my duty to make decision about what is good and right for the world and that is what I have done."

"By dragging me in here and erasing my memories of everything about you and what I'd learned," accused Chris. "If you had let me talk to the others, if I could have been allowed to tell them something besides name, rank, and serial number, we might have been able to find Gideon — "

Before his Elderly calm could keep him from speaking out, Octavius spat, "You were never supposed to find out about Gideon. If you had only returned to the future as you were told — "

Leo's stomach turned to ice as he marveled out loud, "That was why you kept planting it in my head that Chris was a danger to us. You were afraid he'd find you out again, even without the knowledge Wyatt had given him."

"But he couldn't be too obvious about it without making everyone else suspicious of why he wanted me gone," added Chris.

With deception upon deception exposed, it was Zola who stepped into the center of the circle of accusers and accusees. "Mistakes have been made. Because of them, lives and trusts have been broken and lost. What we need to do now is find a way to repair the damage, right here and now, so that both parties will be satisfied. Can we all agree to those terms?"

Sensing the political coup that was happening before his eyes, Chris gave his full attention to Zola, Octavius now forgotten in his mind for all purposes but revenge. He crossed his arms over his chest and asked the angel, "Where do we start?"

Sandra sidled up next to Zola and asked, "What do you want?"

"What I've wanted from the beginning: for my family to be safe."

"No retribution," she asked, almost like it was a test. After all, this had started with the vision of the future of the boy in front of her come to destroy them all. It was a fair question.

Not willing to fall into her trap, Chris said strongly, "I — Want — My — Family — Safe. And my father. I want you to let my father be free to be a husband and father to his family. He can balance his job and family life just as well as an elder as he did as a Whitelighter. Give him back to my family. If he wants back, that is."

Before Leo could answer for himself one way or another, the elder Odin (who Chris always thought looked like Q) blurted, "Impossible! No Elder has ever left the ranks before, not if he remained on the side of Good. Being an Elder is Leo's destiny. He cannot turn his back."

Chris snapped back, "Okay, first? Stop talking about either of us like we are your property to order around. Second, no elder has been married, let alone a father before. Precedent doesn't work here. Never has, never will, not when it comes to us."

An Elder Chris didn't even know, young looking and soft spoken, suggested, "Does this have to be decided right this minute?" He saw everyone blink at him in surprise (apparently he didn't talk much) and went on, "A lot of issues are ahead of us. Chris is right; this is new to us all. Gideon and Octavius betrayed us all, the Halliwell family most of all. That should be dealt with, harshly, and I think it's something that the family should be at least somewhat a part of. But what happened is in the past; it cannot be changed without going through drastic measures. The immediate issue should be the safety of the children. And they should be kept safe. No matter what may or may not happen in the future — which has not happened yet despite this boy's presence — these children as they are now are the future of magic and the future of Good. They need to be protected. Whatever his thoughts about us and our mission, Leo is needed down there with his family to see that that mission is carried out."

It sounded more than reasonable, for the moment, to both Chris and Zola. Leo, however, was suspicious enough to ask, "And then?"

"Excuse me?"

"After that, Xavier, what happens to us? After Gideon is gone, what happens to me then? Am I going to be dragged back up here kicking and screaming? It's not as if you haven't done that to me before."

The young elder was visibly careful not to look at his brethren as he said, "I think it would serve the greater good of all involved if we took a light sabbatical from one another. Tempers on all sides need time to cool." He looked at both Chris and Leo, asking, "Would that be acceptable to you?"

"I'll be left to my family and the safety of my children?"

"Yes."

Coolly, Chris said, "He doesn't come back to the negotiating table without me."

"Of course," agreed both Zola and the peacemaker as several other who had carefully stayed out of things nodded their silent agreement.

Still suspicious, Chris barked, "I mean it. My family stays safe. Any change in status involves me. I didn't die for them to let things fall apart anyway."

Zola grinned at Chris mischievously. "Don't worry, Chris. We haven't forgotten you or what you've done. But for now, I think we can all agree that there are more pressing issues at hand. Xavier is right; Little Wyatt especially needs protection now. He needs an end to this nightmare once and for all. The rest can wait until you as a family are settled and have had the opportunity to adjust and grieve. Go safe your family. Blessed be."

Leo was more than happy to that the out. He stepped back and waited for Chris to start out so that he could watch his son's back, but Chris apparently wasn't finished. "One more thing?"

"Yes," asked Zola.

Chris tried to keep the delicious taste of revenge out of the back of his throat as he added on to the list. "Barbas doesn't skate on this one. He tried to kill my brother, too. The vanquish sticks this time."

"You know he can always come back," started Sandra distractedly, who was splitting her attention between her lost souls and the two elders who were manhandling Octavius to pull him through a door at the opposite end of the anteroom. As the door slammed shut, she put her focus back on Chris, a glint of satisfaction in her eyes at the sound. "Barbas is made of fear, Chris. We cannot vanquish true fear, no matter how much even We wish it."

"No," admitted Chris. "Fine. But he can go away for a long time. The sisters have done it before. Allow them to do it again."

The woman tried to sound reasonable, even in the face of some very angry Halliwells. "I understand why you want this for your family, Chris. I think We all do. However, as Elders, We cannot be in the business of making backroom deals, even if it serves the greater good. What Gideon did did not set only your world on its head, young man. Two worlds were sent into complete chaos. Leo's act alone could not repair the damage that was done. Many agreements had to be reached to put right what went wrong."

"Barbas getting out alive was one of them," asked Chris bitterly. Almost to himself, he said, "You're on the council. You knew that I'd want a deal and so would Barbas. Of course you'd want that off the table." As an afterthought, he added, "And don't call me 'young man'."

"Leo," the woman started, hoping to calm the Elder's son down with a little help from her brethren, but Chris was apparently not going to be interrupted.

"You and I both know that other than maybe losing some voting power or something, nothing is going to happen to that jackass Octavius. You owe us one."

In his anger, Leo had temporarily put Barbas to the back of his mind to focus on his brethren, but now that the fear demon was back to the forefront, he was boiling over again. With a glacial glare, Leo spat, "I — Want — Barbas."

Chris smirked, "You know we're going to go after him with or without your consent. You might as well give us this one."

Odin said, "Gideon is yours. Why don't we worry about Barbas once Gideon has been dealt with?"

"No," argued Leo. "I want an answer on Barbas now. I want to know if I'm on my own."

"It might go a long way toward getting at least one of the sisters back," suggested Chris slyly.

Again Xavier interrupted, trying to keep the peace as long as possible, considering how fresh it was. "What you do with your sabbatical is your business."

Hearing his mother's worried cries for his father, even over the objections being shouted throughout the chamber, Chris said quickly while practically dragging his father out the door, "Sounds great. We'll get right on that. Have your people call my people when we need to finish this discussion. Really, it's been enlightening."

As the double doors shut behind them, Leo asked for an explanation, "Chris?"

"You've been up here too long. Mom's worried. We weren't going to get anything else out of them right now anyway. They need you back there."

"Leo? Chris? Wait," called Zola from the door. Catching up to them, he gave Leo a genuine smile, hoping it would ease his young friend's tensions. "I hope that one day this will all be something that we can put behind us. You still have good works to do, Leo, whether you know that right now or not. I hope that you will find it in your heart to reconsider your position and join us again."

Without actually saying the word 'no', Leo told the angel in no uncertain terms, "I'm always going to be a father first. You have to know that by now."

"I do. One day, the others will as well."

Leo nodded, wanting to end their friendship on a somewhat cordial note. He knew he wouldn't be returning to the heavens even after all of it was said and done. He'd quite simply lost his faith and there was no getting it back. An entire lifetime of love and happiness with his family still wouldn't erase any of this. His faith in the Elders to be the force for good in the world that They had been assigned to be was shattered. And just like Humpty Dumpty, there was no putting it back together again. Maybe They couldn't understand that, but then, They didn't have a toddler and infant at home whose reading habits made sure that he did.

As he walked away, he was joined by his son at his side. They didn't say anything at first, just walked toward the great doors at the end of the hall. Not that they needed to say anything. Sometimes, it was better not to say anything at all. This was shaping up to be one of those times. Besides, they were happy just to be together, both of them leaving in one piece and their safeties secure.

The closer they got to the doorway, Chris's eyes narrowed at the figure he knew was waiting for him. He hadn't known her for very long, but he knew Prue when he saw her. It was hard not to. She had been the center of a good many stories his mother had told him in his lifetime, and she'd been remarkably good to him since his shuffling off of the mortal coil. When she saw that he saw her, she walked over and smiled at her brother-in-law for the first time in nearly four years. "Hi, Leo. Good to see you."

"Prue?"

Sensing the What are you doing here in his question, she smiled and nodded at Chris. "I'm here to take the kid back."

As much as he'd dreaded the moment, Chris tried his best to shrug off his sadness. After all, this wasn't really the end. Death hadn't been the end for his grandmother and great-grandmother when it came to their family; it wasn't going to be his end, either. He tried to sound easy about it as he told his father, "This is where I get off. I've done all I can for you and for them. I'm lucky to have even gotten by with as much as I have. I know that."

Already knowing that tone in her nephew's voice all too well, Prue gave Chris an angry eyebrow. He was definitely trying to get something in there that he knew he shouldn't, but he was going to try anyway. Not that she blamed him. This situation had to be getting old for him. Her warning was given purely from an I'm your aunt so I have to say this standpoint as she told him with thinly disguised encouragement, "Whatever you're thinking, don't."

"It isn't for me," argued Chris. "It's for him."

"Three weeks we've had you and already you're going to get us killed," smiled the woman. She ruffled her nephew's hair, not caring that they were barely ten years apart in age. He had an entire afterlife to get used to it. Her face spread out in a wide beaming grin, though, as she said, "I'm so proud."

"It's not that good." To his father, Chris said, "Tell Wyatt and Christopher that Gideon is wounded. As soon as you all left to go to Valhalla, he's been in the Underworld trying to recuperate. Little Wyatt really hurt him the last time he tried to vanquish him."

"That's what Wyatt's doing?"

"After hearing what Wyatt said yesterday, my guess is most of the time, Gideon looks like me to him. He's seen enough vanquishes in his life already that if what he thinks was only a knife worked on me, he probably thinks it should work on the guy he thinks is me. At least, that's what I can figure."

Leo narrowed his eyes at his son, not sure if this was going to be an answer he wanted. It seemed to him like one of those many secrets that Chris had always kept from them, but he couldn't understand how he would know this one. "How do you — "

Firmly, Chris said, "Until all of this is over, both here and there, I'm not taking my eyes off Wyatt for one second. Like I told Phoebe, my big brother has his own personal guardian angel now. I can't see Gideon myself, but I can sense Wyatt enough to know what's going on. I had some help from a friend who was able to find out what he's been up to since you left."

Prue smiled even as she tapped her nephew on the elbow. "Speaking of which, we really need to get going."

Chris nodded, knowing this was really it. He tried to laugh it off as he hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "Yeah. I've got an afterlife to start living."

Unwilling to let his last chance get away from him, Leo didn't hesitate to pull his child into his arms. He held him tightly, probably cutting off all air if Chris had needed to breathe anymore. Fiercely, he said into his son's hair, "I love you."

Finally rendered speechless, Chris just hugged his father tighter. Prue gave them a moment before putting a hand on her nephew's shoulder, helping him to disappear with her back to where he now belonged. With his arms once again hugging air, Leo sighed heavily. He knuckled the tears away from his eyes and gave himself a mental kick back into gear. One kid saved; three more to go. Without looking back, he orbed out of the heavens back to Valhalla and the family awaiting his return.

As soon as she heard the jingle and saw the orbs, Piper stormed over to her husband, absolutely livid, until she saw the look on his face. There was something there that chilled her. She immediately felt in the back of her heart that it was all beginning again. She was going to lose him again, this time, his memory and more. Angry, she first slapped him good and hard across the face, as if that could shock his memory back to him. Then, more terrified than angry, she folded herself into his arms, needing to feel that he had indeed returned to them at all. Tired of the emotional roller coaster that had been her life for the last few weeks (and then some), she said quietly, "Tell me you're okay."

"We made a deal," said Leo as he kissed her hair, understanding everything she was thinking and more.

"What kind of deal?"

"One that I think is going to keep everyone happy at least for now." Without elaborating any further, Leo asked, "Where are the boys? We have a lot to do and a lot less time to get it done than we thought."

IV.

As the sun set on another beautiful day in Valhalla, Freya took a hand of both Wyatt and Christopher, her smile wishing them on. "I won't see you again," she started. "Not for a very long time. Trust each other and trust yourselves. This will end the way it was meant to."

"Thank you," said Wyatt.

"And you'll take care of them once we're gone," asked Christopher. "Twenty-plus years is a long time to leave them to their own devices, if you haven't noticed."

"I have some of my best architects working on plans for your sanctuary now. That said, I'm going to hold on to the hope that you won't be needing it any longer." Carefully, the goddess placed a kiss on the forehead of each of the two boys, giving them her blessings for their battle to come. "I've done all I can do for you for now. Good luck. Now go. Your destinies await."

With a brief nod toward their anxiously waiting parents, Wyatt and Christopher orbed away from the island paradise and into the attic with stuttering orbs like a couple of adults who cautiously dip a single toe into the pool to test the temperature instead of jumping in carefree like their kids. Cautiously, their eyes searched the room once again for the thing that had once been their father's friend. Wyatt, in particular, was nervous as he tried to concentrate on the source of the chill that ran up his spine. He couldn't be sure if he was more nervous that he didn't sense Gideon or that he knew he would be soon if he wasn't already. He was so damned cold and had been ever since he could remember that he just wanted to be warm again.

I do believe in spooks. I do believe in spooks. I do, I do, I do believe in spooks.

Shut up.

I'd turn back if I were you.

Seriously, shut up.

You're a coward, Halliwell, and you know it. Your brother knows it. They all know it. Give it up.

"Oh, shut up," Wyatt barked with exasperation at that little voice in the back of his head, even though he knew it was his own and not Gideon's. They were both annoying at this point, no matter whose side they were on.

"What's wrong," Christopher immediately asked.

"I can't put my own personal Jiminy Cricket from Hell on mute."

Christopher tried to get his brother to relax, even if just for a moment. With a crooked smile, he said, "I always told you that motor-mouth of yours would get us into trouble one of these days." When Wyatt only gave him a pained look back, Christopher quickly clapped his brother on the shoulder before resuming their search. "It's going to be okay."

"You can't promise that."

"No . . . " shrugged the younger of the brothers. Working out his next move even as he said it, Christopher sounded almost optimistic saying, "I can't promise anything. I don't know what's going to happen. But honestly? Right now, all I need to know, I already do. I got to hear your voice again. I saw you again. After everything we've seen in the last few days, do you want to tell me I'm wrong?"

"No."

"Well, then, tell that stupid little cartoon to shut his yap because you have more important things to do than listen to him yammer at you all night. I need your concentration here. He's going to have to take a number."

As Christopher backed away from him with an encouraging (if deceptively over-confident) grin, Wyatt looked at his little brother and wondered what the other version of himself had thought that night he'd sent his kid brother off to the past and what was most certainly the Unknown. Was that Wyatt as scared as he was now? Could he still feel that kind of terror? He'd been under the influence of Evil for so much longer; did he have the capacity to get that back like Christopher had given it to him? He hoped that that Wyatt had found that connection again, that it wasn't only out of revenge that he'd sought his brother out. Most of all, he wondered what the other Wyatt would have done at this very moment if it had been his to have. Right now, all he wanted was to send his baby brother so far away that nothing could ever find him, ever. There were too many variables here. Gideon knew him too well already, had too much of a hold on his mind. He swore he could feel the sonofabitch trying to get in, even as they tried so hard to get themselves prepared. Time was running out so fast he had no time to think. And yet, all he could think about was Christopher. Granted, demons had always known from the time he was little that his brother was his Achilles Heel, but none had exploited it quite the way Gideon had. Especially after all he had learned over the last two days, Wyatt didn't know just how much of any of this he could control at all.

Wyatt couldn't remember the last time Christopher had looked so small to him, so vulnerable. His brother had always been his partner in crime until they'd been separated. He didn't even know how to form strategy without his best friend involved. In some ways, he always knew that that would lead to his downfall, just as the other future had proven and Lucy had predicted. Without Christopher there to be at his side, Wyatt didn't know what to do. The idea of losing him one more time was paralyzing.

So what was he supposed to do? He knew what was supposed to happen here. It had all been worked out, everyone was just hanging back anxiously waiting for their call. But every instinct he had was telling him to orb Christopher as far away as possible, to the moon if he had to, just as his little self had been trying to do for over a week.

Just as Wyatt was coming to a decision then, Christopher interrupted him and said gravely, "They're waiting. We need to get this show on the road."

"No," the elder brother argued softly. Quickly, before Christopher's astounded look could lead to a counter attack, Wyatt used his most powerful voice, the one he regrettably knew his brother was afraid of. "Go back to Valhalla. You'll be safe there. You have to go, now."

"This is a two man job, Wyatt. You're stuck with me," said Christopher, blinking harshly at the sound of his brother's voice, even though he knew that that had been Wyatt's intent in the first place. "And don't even try to use the big voice on me. It doesn't work like that anymore."

"I can't do this with you here."

"You can't do it without me here, either. You know what Freya said. You heard what Chris said. This doesn't end without both of us, and quite frankly, I need this to end a lot more than you do."

"Christopher — "

"You still don't get it, do you," asked Christopher. He wasn't angry or trying to be sarcastic, even though he knew he sounded both. He knew how Wyatt thought. He could pretty much feel the worry coming off the guy in waves. He knew his brother meant well and was only trying to protect him, but that was exactly why they were in this mess in the first place. "I know you want to protect me. God knows I want to protect you after all this when I finally got you back in one piece. But that's why all of this started in the first place. First you and then me. We did this. All we ever do is protect each other and do it alone instead of together. Granted, yes, the Elders never should have tried to kill you, and I will never forgive Them for it, but we never should have tried to stop Them by ourselves. We have to do this together. It's never going to end until we figure that out the way the sisters have. And I personally have had enough dying for a couple of lifetimes, haven't you?"

That last part stung Wyatt. How many deaths was Christopher on now? Four? Of course he couldn't ask his brother to die for him, not again. So here he was in Catch-22 territory without a map to find his way out. That's all he wanted for them, a way out, one that for once didn't involve violence of any kind. Of course, the way it had evolved over a few lifetimes and timelines, there wasn't much of a chance of that. Why was it again that they were the ones that the cosmos so wanted to screw with?

He knew the decision had been made for them a long time ago. Angels had told his other future self so. So as much as he truly hated the idea, he supposed there really was only one thing he could do about it.

Wyatt strode up to the corner of the attic where he knew the Stone had been hidden when he was a kid. It took him a moment to remember that he didn't have powers to move everything aside to get at it. He felt Christopher step forward to help with the effort, but waved him back. He needed to do this himself to have the extra time to convince himself that he was doing the right thing. He needed the time to have a memory, one that he knew was his own and wouldn't trade for anything. He shoved aside a stack of boxes that he couldn't quite chuckle at, but was amused to remember how funny he'd thought it that his mother had in fact successfully hidden the monstrosity back there for sixteen years without him ever noticing. She had been exceptionally beautiful that day, the Lady of the Lake handing the Legacy down to its king. She had been so proud of him, telling that she had known even before he was born that he was meant to do great things. She had been so beautiful in her hope for him. If they had only known . . .

He stared at the weapon gleaming up at him, begging him to take it from its stony sheath. It wanted to be free. It could taste blood. It could taste justice. Excalibur wanted to set their family free. And Wyatt wanted to let it.

Pick it up, the voice in his head commanded him. The smart ass was gone, though. Only the shadow Gideon was talking now. You know you want it, it said. It can save us all if you just use it the way it was meant to be used. You can still have the future we wanted.

Christopher noticed that it was taking his brother too long to release the weapon. Wyatt's eyes were wide and hungry as if he were seeing it for the first time. Without intending to actually hurt his brother, Christopher reached up and pinched Wyatt's forearm to jolt him. "Still with me?"

"He's here," said Wyatt, his voice smaller than he meant it to be.

"And so am I," said Christopher pointedly. "Listen to me. You have to fight him for a little longer. You are so much more vulnerable right now than Little Wyatt is. Your mind is so full of holes that he put there. The more you let him talk, the more time he has to figure out what he's done and how to exploit it. So you need to stop worrying and get this done. This is the only shot we've got."

Knowing that this was the best if only time to say this, Wyatt said without looking at his brother, "I know what Chris told you back on the island."

"What," asked Christopher, his voice painfully small. "What does that have to do with — how do you know what he said?"

"Let's just say that Phoebe isn't as powerless as everyone thinks she is."

"How would Phoebe know?"

"It doesn't matter. What matters is that Chris's brother was right. I want you to listen to him."

Christopher vehemently shook his head, unwilling to let the conversation get any further than that. "I'm not talking about this."

"I'm not asking you to talk about it. I'm telling you that you need to keep it in the back of your mind. I don't want to talk about it either. I only wanted you to know that I know."

"Fine. I know. Now drop it."

"Consider it dropped." Wyatt continued to stare at the weapon, knowing that once Christopher had it in his hands, there would be no turning back. Without looking away, he tried one last time to send his brother away, futile as it may be, "You know, I can think of much better things for us to do tonight."

"Such as?"

"We could hop on over to the bar and get soused."

"We did that last night," said Christopher. "And the resulting headache hasn't worked out so well for me. Next?"

"I'm tapped. Say something, anything, that could make this easier."

Knowing that his brother would know exactly what he was thinking when he said it, Christopher deadpanned, "Wanna find a corner and make out?"

It was an old joke, and they had seen Sports Night far too many times, but it had done the trick. The tension properly broken, Wyatt broke out in a huge grin before he got a handle on it and monotoned back, "No. And I haven't played garbage can basketball since the last time we were grounded together, so don't even ask."

Christopher tried not to drag his brother's mood back down as he prodded the older man in the direction they needed to be going at the moment. They'd put things off long enough. He didn't leave much room for argument as he asked, "You good?"

Grumpily, Wyatt admitted with half a smile, "As good as I'm going to get." With a bound determination now, he growled down at the mammoth stone at his feet, "All right. Let's get this over with already."

Excalibur sang when Wyatt picked it up, something that Christopher couldn't remember it doing for years. Suddenly, his hatred of the sword turned into a deep affection for the damned thing. "It knew," he muttered in his surprise. "Excalibur knew the entire time that it was Gideon and not you who picked it up. It tried to destroy Gideon once he was in control of you, but you were still too strong for it. It knew."

"So did Gideon, I think," Wyatt thought out loud. "It must have been . . . He was the one corrupted by the power of the sword, not me. I was too gone, and once he had enough control, he thirsted for it. It was like he completely forgot about me and only wanted the power."

"His goal was different, but he still wanted you. He just didn't want you dead anymore. He needed you."

For the first time since his sister set him free, Wyatt was truly angry. He was angry for missing so much of his life, for the things that had been done in his name and the name of his family, and for all of the things that he could not in any way take back. In a way, it felt good to be angry because, for the first time, it was his anger. He owned it and it wasn't evil. He felt a power in himself that he hadn't felt in a very, very long time. No longer helpless to protect those he loved as he had been for the last seven years, Wyatt said dangerously, "He wants me, he can come and get me."

Christopher quickly corrected him, "Us."

Wyatt looked Excalibur up and down with a smile. He let his mind reach out to the sword's twin, the one from the future that their mother had hidden somewhere in the attic away from the twitchy fingers of the under-three crowd. When the second weapon materialized in his hands, he held one of them out to his brother. Standing corrected, he agreed with Christopher, "Us."

The twinkle hit Christopher's eye at the same time as it did Wyatt's, feeling a power from his version of the sword that he'd never felt before. A glance at Wyatt told him that his brother had felt the same thing when he'd acquisitioned the duplicate weapon. It was almost as if the two were meant to be together as well, just as the brothers were. A crooked grin in his brother's direction said it all. "Butch and Sundance ride again?"

"And this time, they're gonna make it to Australia."

"Then let's get to work," grinned Christopher, clanging his sword against the one in his brother's hands.

Everything ready to commence, the brothers stepped forward into a circle of empty space left in the middle of the attic floor. This was it.

Quickly, before Christopher could open his mouth to call their parents and get the ball rolling, Wyatt put a staying hand on his brother's chest. "One last thing: stay close to me, okay?"

"I think I can handle myself, thank you very much," scoffed Christopher.

"I'm not kidding," said Wyatt fiercely. Even though he didn't want it to, his mind concentrated heavily on the image of his brother being skewered by Gideon's blade just before he was taken away from them a few weeks ago. The nightmare stubbornly refused to let go. It gave him the anger he needed to get through this, but it also gave him the fear he needed. He just wished the fear didn't outweigh the anger so much. He couldn't control it, and that was going to lead to problems if his brother couldn't play along the way he needed him to. "You won't let me send you away — which, fine, I get it — but you aren't going to stop me from trying to keep you as safe as possible in all of this. We both need to make it out of this one. Don't argue with me, Christopher. I don't want you out of my sight if at all possible."

Christopher faltered under his brother's gaze. For so long now, he had been the one in charge, the protector. He had forgotten what it was like to have a big brother to look out for him. To see Wyatt looking at him with such fear now seemed so unnatural. Everything they had seen aside, Wyatt was never afraid, just like he remembered about his dad. It was one of the things he'd always admired in them that he didn't think he could find in himself; they never showed fear. For Wyatt to be afraid now . . .

When his little brother didn't respond, Wyatt said a little more forcefully, "I mean it. You stay close to me."

Oddly, Christopher remembered saying the exact same thing to Lucy only last week. He definitely understood his brother's fear then and gave Wyatt a reassuring grin. "Yeah, boss."

Wyatt reached back and clobbered Christopher on the back of the head. "Smart ass." He then shook his hands out with a heavy sigh, which he used to call his parents before he could change his mind. "Dad, Mom, let's do this!"

Seconds later, the entire family (sans Grandpa and Baby Chris) arrived in an entire ant colony of bluish orbs. Both Wyatt and Christopher looked for a visual sign of where Gideon was, which of the Wyatts he was near, even though they knew they wouldn't find him. They nodded to each other then took a step forward, leaving it clear that they weren't going to turn back.

Christopher then hung back a safe distance for a moment as Wyatt went over to stand between his parents. Together the three of them approached Little Wyatt in the center of the room while Paige and Phoebe backed away from him. Even as they got closer, Little Wyatt barely reacted to the approaching stranger, obviously feeling a connection to him. Christopher secretly smiled one for the Good Guys. They needed that work. So far, so good.

Together the three of them knelt in front of the toddler, safe, secure smiles on all of their faces. Knowing he'd respond best to her, Piper started, "Wyatt, do you know who this is?"

The toddler pointed a finger at his own tummy and said happily, " ' hat."

"Yeah, it's Wyatt, like you. He's our friend, right?"

" 'ood 'hi."

Piper smiled fondly at her son. "Yep, he's one of the good guys. So we have to help him, don't we? Because we help the good guys like us, don't we?"

" 'ood 'his 'ood, 'ad 'his 'ad."

"That's right," encouraged Leo. "Good guys good, bad guys bad."

Piper held her toddler's face gently with one hand. "And Wyatt is a good guy. He's one of us. Right now, Wyatt needs our help. He has a brother Chris, just like you do. And someone bad is trying to hurt his brother. We can't see where the bad man is, but we know he's there. You need to show Mommy where the bad man is. Can you show Mommy?"

"Showtime," Christopher whispered to himself as he stepped forward to replace the empty space left by Wyatt standing up. He knelt down next to Little Wyatt and said, "Hey, Kiddo."

No sooner had he said hello then Christopher was blown back violently into the air. Behind him, the sofa disappeared into an orb cloud before the cushions re-materialized to soften his landing. Then, just over his head, and athame darted across the room to be embedded into the wall. That was all the answer they needed.

"He's definitely here."

Leo, Christopher, and Wyatt quickly placed themselves strategically throughout the room while the sisters scooped up Little Wyatt. Piper held her son while Phoebe unfolded the paper that their spell was written on. In the center of the men's triangle, the Charmed Ones stood in a triangle of their own and recited the spell.

Hear us now, spirits far and wide,
Show us where the evil hides;
Mask his endeavors from us no more,
That Good we may rightfully restore.

They heard the voice before they saw anything. The words stung them all. Christopher saw his brother pale at the words and had to fight to keep from pouncing in the direction of the voice too early.

"They're lying to you, Wyatt," Chris's voice said. "You know he isn't me. He's the imposter, not me. He only looks like me. He's one of Them. They can look like anyone They want. You saw Dad do it. He can, too. He isn't me. You know who I am."

" ' ot 'ris," said the toddler the way he would if he were about to throw a temper tantrum. "NNNNNOT!"

Flickering like a television set on the fritz, the specter flashed in and out until it was finally corporeal. When solid, yet another "Chris" stood before them in the blood-stained sweatshirt jacket that the boy had worn the day he died. Little Wyatt's face screwed up, ready to let out a terrible scream. Instead, he stomped his feet and said as forcefully as his little two year old voice would allow, "'OT 'RIS!"

As he said it, the ChrisGideonThing was blown across the room without a cushioned shelter to land in. The brilliant white light that accompanied a terrifying power that Wyatt wouldn't discover again until he was nearly fourteen stormed through the room, chasing the ghost into the farther corner. Instead of the explosion that they all expected to hear shortly thereafter, a slow laughter cackled up from the corner and chased back the light until it bounced right back toward the toddler.

Christopher's mind flashed, and in an instant he knew what was going to happen if his brother didn't get out of there. Urgently, he shouted, "GET WYATT OUT!"

Without a further thought, Paige grabbed Phoebe's hand and orbed them out. Piper immediately dove to cover her child, thinking of nothing but protecting him from himself. She scooped him up and grabbed for Leo's hand. Together they whisked the boy out of the room in a cloud of orbs so fast that they might as well have blinked out. Stunned, Wyatt stared into the blank space left by himself and his parents. He remembered that power, but it had been so long since it had been in his possession. It had been a gift of good, something he was unable to use once he had been taken over by Gideon. Wow. He would give just about anything to have that power at the moment.

The light continued to pour out of the room at them until finally it hit Wyatt square in the chest as he threw himself bodily into his brother to shove him to the ground. Painfully, he groaned, "Ow."

Close enough that he could reach up and grab a vial from the potions table, Christopher's fingers danced on the edge util they could tip three or four off into his hand. In quick succession, he lobbed three of the bottles at the GideonThing as it tried to get up out of the corner to keep it down a little longer.

Christopher was the first to recover, scampering to his feet and holding a hand down to help his brother up. Knowing that Wyatt was the only person who would understand what had happened, he asked, "Why didn't that work?"

"Hell if I know," grumbled Wyatt, putting his free hand to his now-bleeding temple. "Ask him."

"Which 'him'?"

"What?" Wyatt's eyes owled in their sockets. "Both of them? Nobody said anything about having to fight the both of them separately."

From where the spirit had fallen in the corner, both a Gideon and a "Chris" rose and grinned evilly at the two brothers, obviously knowing something that the two of them didn't know. It was "Chris" who spoke up, sending chills down Wyatt's spine. "Did you really think that you were capable of stopping me? I have Good on my side, young man, something that you never have. Destiny wanted me for this. Destiny knew that I was the only one who would see the truth, that you are an abomination. You never should have been born. If the others had done as I'd warned them, none of this would have had to happen."

"You aren't Destiny," argued Christopher bitterly. "If Wyatt wasn't meant to be, Destiny would have taken care of that herself. You're an Elder. You're supposed to be on our side. You don't have the power to decide who gets to live and who dies."

"I have powers beyond your imagining, boy," said the Gideon that actually looked like Gideon. The grimace spread over his face as he raised his hands, obviously taking pleasure in what he felt was to come. With a grand sweep of his hands, the Gideon who looked like Chris was pulled aside, dissipating into a clouded form until it merged with Gideon's body. With a booming voice, the former Elder said, "Allow us to demonstrate."

Christopher gulped to his brother, "You wanted them back in one body, looks like you got it." As Gideon raised his hands on the other side of the room, he added, "Oh, not good."

A stream of black orbs shot from the extended hands of the former Elder, spewing out at the two men from the future like bullets. The brothers separated, each rolling off to the opposite side. Wyatt was the first one up, so Gideon struck at Christopher, taking his time with the one who was more vulnerable. Gideon waved a hand over his sharp features, morphing them into Chris's own visage once again. The former Elder moved slowly across the room, waving his hand again to reveal a spreading stain of blood across his abdomen. With the other hand, he conjured an athame that he twisted cruelly into the air with a sadistic grin.

"Remember this? I do." The demonthingwhatever gave the air a stab with the weapon as his eyes focused solely on Christopher, who was getting up far too slowly as he tried to fight his way through the field of stars in his vision. "You cost me everything. I was going to be hailed when I returned to the heavens. I should have been rewarded for ridding the world of the threat, but you robbed me with your insolence. You should have listened. I took no pleasure in your death before. Now, I will take nothing but the greatest of pleasures to see you through to your very last breath."

The athame took a severe downward thrust toward the still-dazed Christopher, catching the fabric of the man's sweatshirt as he tried to at least roll out of the way. A second swing of the blade caught skin before the blade was embedded in the hardwood floor. Christopher was able to get a hand free long enough to smack the blade spinning away under one of the sofas and out of harm's way for the moment. Furious, the thing with Chris's face waved an arm and sent Christopher flying violently into the wall under the chalk triquetra. The witch slid to the floor, eyes unfocused and arms too limp to stop him from letting his head hit the floor.

"NO!" Wyatt screamed, instinctively flinging his arm to throw Gideon aside, until he remembered that he was pretty much powerless. Instead he charged the former Elder, calling Excalibur to him and letting it lead the way until he ran into GideonChris. Before he could actually make any kind of attack, though, Gideon dissipated into the black cloud and floated away into nothingness to await his next chance at the brothers.

Seeing a temporary break, Wyatt dashed to Christopher's side. Skidding to a halt, he had to balance a hand on the wall to stop himself from crashing into it and falling on top of his brother. As the younger man tiredly heaved a rain of books off himself, Wyatt saw the blood coming from his brother's mouth and fought the panic that rose in his throat. Damn it. This was exactly why he . . .There was no way he was going to lose Christopher now, not after everything they had been through. He shook his brother by the shoulders until Christopher wearily blinked at him. With as much confidence as he could muster, Wyatt ordered the younger man, "Don't you give up on me yet. I can't do this without you."

"Slacker."

"Just get off your ass and help me."

Christopher bit back his pain and reached up to grab Wyatt's wrist. With a hard pull, he managed to get himself back to his feet, even if he was a bit on the wobbly side. The slice from the athame was a little more painful than he wanted to admit to, but he wasn't going to tell his brother that. He'd find a way to deal with that later. Trying to find the best way to tell his brother he was okay, he quipped, "I know everyone says I beat myself up too much, but this is ridiculous."

As soon as Christopher was up, Wyatt focused on trying to find Gideon again. He divided his focus after no initial sign and asked sideways, "How bad is it?"

"It's a scratch. Where is he?"

Wyatt didn't have time to answer his brother as an already all-too-familiar spear of black orbs darted through the air at his head. Seeing it barely in time, Christopher caught Wyatt about the knees and tackled the older man to the ground. He quickly crooked his head in the direction of one of their much-abused sofas and skittered himself behind it. He knew it was pretty much useless considering that they were all stuck there to begin with, but that still didn't mean it wasn't going to buy them at least a few seconds. Right now, he'd take what he could get.

Following suit, Wyatt ducked behind the sofa, barely peeking his head over the top to get another glance. He fell down on his tailbone, hard, and turned his head toward his brother with a frustrated wince. "Okay, who told him he could bring more than one power to the party?"

"Don't look at me. I told him to bring the chips." With exasperated bitterness, Christopher grumped, "How did he get to have powers and we don't?"

Ruefully, Wyatt suggested, "I guess we know now what happens when Elders fall to the Dark Side?"

"Elder Darklighter? Perfect. Like this wasn't hard enough already. So now what?"

Another slew of black orbs slammed into the sofa on the other side then tore through between the witches' heads. They both quickly ducked in opposite directions to get away from the shrapnel that was what remained of the springs of the couch. Wyatt rolled onto all fours, trying to keep himself low. In as low a stage whisper he could manage and still be heard, he commanded Christopher. "Cover me. And come up with a plan fast."

Before Christopher could argue, Wyatt sprinted from his all-four-ed position and ran at Gideon, ducking the entire way to keep from being hit with anything. He could hear his brother swearing at him along the way, "Cover you with what exactly?" Wyatt didn't have time to answer, though, as he full on tackled the former Elder about the waist, turned into a set of orbs, and dragged them both down through the attic's hard wood floor.

Christopher blinked at the spot on the floor where his brother and their enemy had fallen through the floor. "What do you want me to do? Drop the piano on his head?"

Knowing that they really didn't have time for sarcasm, even if it made him feel better, Christopher paced back and forth, muttering to himself and creating a mental checklist of all of their assets. Of course they had the twin Excaliburs — Excalibi? Excaliburses? — but really, what else did they have? They had searched The Book high and low looking for a way to get their powers to them. They'd even considered using the spell that the sisters had used on The Source that could call on the powers of all of the Warren line ahead of them. Nothing had seemed to scream 'YES' at them. All he had was Wyatt, and he was down his powers just as much as he was. And Freya had made it very clear that the only way this was ever going to end was if he and Wyatt put an end to the thing that had come after them together.

Two brothers. Two swords. Two brothers, two swords. Two two two two . . .

Two Wyatts. Two Chrises.

Oh, holy hell!

"MOM! DAD!"

Immediately the couple orbed in, sans the toddler that Christopher had crazily hoped to see with them. Urgently, he started talking even before they had solidified into complete human beings again. "Dad, take Mom downstairs. Wyatt's down there alone with Gideon and needs all the help he can get to keep it distracted for me. Then get back to Valhalla and get Little Wyatt. I need him."

"Christopher — " Piper started, only to be cut off.

"GO! DISTRACT!" As soon as they were gone, Christopher darted back to the potions table and scooped up every single vial he could. He closed his eyes and concentrated on finding out where exactly his brother was. As soon as he found him, he called out so that Wyatt would hear him in the back of the Whitelighter part of his mind, "Grab Mom and fall back."

It took a moment, probably from the same lack of use that had caused such an earlier confusion with Wyatt the day before, but eventually the elder brother called back, 'What?'

"Get out of my way."

'What are you doing?'

Wryly, Christopher both laughed and groaned at his own joke and said, "I'm gonna drop the piano on his head." No more questions came after that, but he felt Wyatt pull away and take their mother with him. As soon as he knew there was enough room, Christopher orbed all of the potions in his arms through the floor and down the two floors into the living room to briefly hover then collide into one another right above the GideonChrisThing's head. He didn't know if he did any damage to it, but Christopher could definitely feel the rumblings all the way upstairs. He waited for a moment for any kind of status report from his brother and started to get a little nervous when Wyatt didn't give him any hint of what had happened. With the communal power they got from their father, he gave his brother a particularly impatient and hard nudge on his mind and asked, "Well?"

No answer came, but Leo, Paige, and Little Wyatt did. On Christopher's surprised look, his aunt shrugged at him. "You need another active power in the mix. Where are they?"

"Living room."

Without another word, Paige orbed out of the attic again, presumably toward the living room to help out Piper and Wyatt. Seconds later, her arrival was apparently enough of a distraction to Wyatt because there was a vicious BANG from somewhere downstairs. Christopher heard Wyatt call up to him, 'Is that what you call giving cover?'

Christopher couldn't help but smile at himself and his brother. An inside joke between them and their father, he knew what that meant. Despite the sarcasm, Wyatt was still very much in charge of the situation. Knowing the right response to let Wyatt know that he was in control as well, Christopher said out loud to his distant brother, "Is that what you call running? If I knew you were going to stroll . . . "

Leo recognized the line immediately and put the pieces together. Quickly he asked for confirmation, "Wyatt's all right?"

"For now," said Christopher. "I don't know how long he can keep it up, though. I hope Mom and Paige can keep Gideon busy long enough for us to get something done here."

"What do you need?"

"I need Wyatt." On his father's confused look, Christopher looked down at the toddler clutching his father's hand. "This Wyatt."

"There has to be another way," argued Leo before he even knew what Christopher's idea was going to be. Granted, all of his kids, whatever versions of them, had been through more than enough because of Gideon and all of the tragedy that had befallen the family in the last few years, but this was different. Wyatt was barely two years old. He shouldn't be expected to perform, not yet. It was too much. That Wyatt had had to handle himself in the Underworld for as long as he had the day Christopher had been born should be the end of the line for the boy for a very long time. To ask more was too much.

Knowing all of the arguments before his father could say them, Christopher said, "He's part of this, Dad, whether we like it or not. I don't exactly like the idea of having to rely on a kid who hasn't even been toilet trained yet, but I think I have to. He has powers that the rest of us don't. We need him."

"He doesn't have a command of those powers. That was a nervous reaction what happened before. That's all."

"Maybe, but he can try. Right now, I need to have this option open. This is as much his fight as it is ours. Gideon took him in so many ways. I know he's just a kid, but he deserves to have the chance if we need him to." Without waiting for any more arguments, Christopher stepped as close as he dared to his brother, knelt down on one knee, and smiled. "Wyatt, I need your help."

" 'hat 'el'," the little boy said bravely.

"Yeah, Wyatt. Help. Big help." Christopher gave his father a pleading look and took it as an affirmative answer when the angel at least didn't look away. Back to his brother, Christopher said, "Listen very carefully. The bad man who took you away, the bad man who hurt me, he's coming back."

" 'ee 'im," said Wyatt with a pout.

It hurt both of the men to hear the boy say so, but they knew he'd seen. Wyatt had seen him so much longer than the rest of them. He must be so scared by now. Christopher tried to hide his disgust at the idea that someone who was supposed to be an angel, a force for good, had tormented such a small, innocent soul. Forget for the moment that Wyatt was his brother; he was a baby. He looked into those eyes he had known all his life, the eyes that had brought him both infinite calm and colossal fear, and saw too much pain in them for two eyes so young. Bitterly, Christopher said, "I know you have, and I want to make him go away for you, for all of us. So I need you to help me. Can you help me?"

"Christopher," Leo started one last time.

Carefully, the elder boy explained, "Wyatt, you have to promise me and Daddy that you are going to stay behind your shield while you're up here, okay? Can you help me from inside your shield?" The boy nodded and Christopher looked to his father for approval. When he got a nod that wasn't quite as reluctant, Christopher smiled at his brother. "Okay, Wyatt. Do you remember the big sword that Mommy put away for you?"

Like it was a game, Wyatt pointed a finger at the twin of Excalibur that Christopher had grasped tightly in his hand. " No-no 'ouchee."

Christopher said, "This time, it's okay to touch. No-no touching any other time until Mommy and Daddy say so, but today I need you to use it. When I tell you to, can you put the sword where I tell you to?"

Still pretending, Wyatt swept his finger around in the graceful arc that he used so often when performing orb symphonies for his baby brother. Excalibur orbed out of Christopher's hand and swung around high up in the air only to come back down and embed the tip in the floor right at the bigger younger brother's side once more.

Both frightened and proud, Leo knelt down and said into his son's ear, "Very good, Wyatt. Very good."

The toddler clapped his hands in pleasure at the compliment. Up to Christopher, he begged, " 'gain!"

"Not yet," said Christopher, both creeped out and proud. "Soon. Until then, you need to put your shield up, okay? Shield, Wyatt. Daddy, too."

Obediently, the boy put his blue electric bubble up around himself and his father. Leo looked at his youngest and asked, "Okay, now what?"

Christopher backed away from his father and brother, unintentionally clutching his side. The slim cut was starting to really irritate him. "Now I get us set up with crystals. You, Mom, and Paige are here. From now on, nothing gets in or out."

"You're hurt?"

"Nothing I can't handle. Just stay with Wyatt."

"Christopher — "

Letting himself have this one last bit of contact with his father before it all went further into hell, Christopher looked pleadingly at the man who had been so absent in his life. "You have to stay there. It's bad enough I had to bring any of you here. My Wyatt and I are expendable here. Chris got that. He made sure I get that, too. What absolutely cannot happen is anything going wrong that could hurt you, Mom, Paige, or Little Wyatt. You cannot leave that shield. I can't let you leave now, not if I want to risk Gideon getting out of here with you. But I can't have you here, either. You have to stay behind that shield and you have to let us take care of this. It's never going to end if you don't."

Leo's face fell in sadness, but he didn't have time to say anything about it because his son quickly shooshed him with a downward wave of his hand.

"Something's wrong."

Not half a second later, Piper and Paige ran out of a set of orbs, looking like the devil himself was after them. While Paige ran directly for Christopher, Piper ran for her eldest, who let down his shield long enough for her to get through and scoop him up in her arms. She took him quickly and hid them both behind her husband. She had never hidden behind the angel before, but desperate times called for desperate measures. She needed time to think. She needed time to process. She needed time to figure out how she was going to tell Christopher that they had lost his brother once again.

Luckily (or not) for her, Paige blurted it out without a second thought, knowing that they just didn't have time for any. "We've got trouble. Gideon has Wyatt."

Alarmed, Christopher asked, "What do you mean, 'has Wyatt'?"

"He was knocked unconscious. Piper tried to blow Gideon up, but he poofed into that cloud thing and plowed into Wyatt before we could stop him. He's still unconscious, but he won't be for long."

A blue streak of violent words left Christopher's mouth before he remembered that Little Wyatt was right there with them. And his parents. No matter how old he was, he had always made an effort not to swear in front of his elders. Dead or alive, his parents and aunt were still his elders. Still, if ever there was an occasion to lose control over his vocabulary, this was probably it.

Snapping without meaning to, Piper said, "Can we save the rant for later, please? We don't have time for it right now."

Quickly, Paige asked, "Can you think of any way to separate him from Wyatt's body?"

"Without hurting Wyatt," asked Christopher. "Not in the slightest."

"Good attitude," Piper bit at her son, frustrated to no end. "That'll help."

Not exactly liking his mother's own brand of sarcasm, Christopher opted for the most logical and reliable solution he'd leaned on his entire life. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly in and out, letting the now-hated part of him that was Elder come out to the surface. He let it reach out to his brother, searching for some sign of Wyatt's whereabouts. Even when the two Gideons had had control of his brother, it had taken a while before Wyatt had felt truly gone to him. Wyatt had been able to fight it for at least a while. He may be much more vulnerable to the specter's abilities, but that didn't mean that Wyatt was down and out. Christopher knew better than that. And if he knew that, Wyatt and Gideon knew that, too. Carefully, he let his Elder half touch where he knew Wyatt to be, searching for just how bad the situation was.

Outside his meditation, Piper was looking at her immobile son in frustration. "What's he doing?"

"Trying to find Wyatt," Leo explained then closed his eyes himself. It was much harder for him to access that part of himself at the moment, given his hatred of the circumstances, but he quickly calmed himself so that he could help his sons. They had to come first, not his anger. He couldn't find Wyatt, but as soon as he realized that, he knew that the boy he needed to find was Christopher anyway. He let his essence flow into Christopher's to help boost the younger man's search. He felt Christopher flinch away, so he said out loud but in that eerily calm Elder voice, "Let me help, Christopher."

Christopher's eyes flew open, wide with terror. "Too late." Urgently, he ordered his parents and aunt, "Get out of sight. Stay out of this if you can."

Irritated that her sons were in danger, again, and that her youngest was giving her orders, again, Piper brusquely reminded him, "In case you forgot, your mother and aunts happen to be witches. Your father is an Elder. I think we're capable of helping you. This is our fight, too, you know. Gideon didn't do this to only the two of you."

"You're also a power down, just two weeks out of major surgery and childbirth, and completely useless to us if you happen to get yourselves killed. I win. 'Bye."

"No, you don't. You're a few powers down yourselves, Mister, so don't you use that tone on me. I'm still your mother and it's my right to try to help. I've been doing this for quite a while, you — "

"— And I've been doing this three times longer than you, so if you don't mind, do me a favor and hide. Don't make me orb you out of here, because I will."

"Christopher Perry — " Piper started but didn't finish as she was suddenly enveloped in a cloud of orbs that pulled her away from her son to land in the corner, protectively ensconced behind two bookcases and the free standing mirror. Frustrated, she opened her mouth to finish her say, but Christopher didn't give her the chance.

"Thanks, Wyatt," he chirped. To his little older brother, he commanded, "Keep her there, would you?" To his mother, he said forcefully, "Stay there." As an afterthought, he added, "Please." He quickly turned his head and found his aunt, who merely shrugged her shoulders at him.

"I'm out until you say different. Call for me when you need me," Paige volunteered, not wanting to distract her nephew any more than he already was. They had enough problems at the moment. She held a hand out for the last crystal still in Christopher's hand. She stepped into the doorway then set it down, closing the cage. Without another word, she orbed herself out of the hall for destinations in the house unknown to the others.

Out of time, an explosion of cushioning from the sofa right next to Christopher announced Wyatt's arrival. Wyatt's body and the demonghostthing driving his body stood menacingly in the doorway. Christopher had to say this for the sonofabitch: he knew how to use Wyatt's intimidating form to his advantage. He had a feeling that the rest of the family was about to see what it was that could be so scary about their little angel and knew that he was in no way going to be able to spare them that pain. His real nightmare was, for the first time since Wyatt had come to them from the future, right there in front of him.

Gideon even knew how to use The Voice as he chimed, "One down. One to go."

Christopher didn't say anything, only glared at the man and sidestepped toward the middle of the attic floor, taking his time. Even though he didn't think he could reach inside his brother to sense him without being caught, he had to try one last time to find Wyatt before he wouldn't have the chance any longer. He never took his eyes off the thing in his brother's body as he searched, willing Wyatt to give him some kind of sign that he was still close enough to the surface to be of any kind of help. When all he got was blackness, Christopher quickly righted himself in his mind, forcing himself to look at the man in front of him.

That was not his brother.

The attempt to find Wyatt apparently hadn't been surreptitious enough because a twisted grin appeared on Wyatt's face. Gideon opened Wyatt's hand and produced a small dusting of black orbs that materialized into the athame that Christopher had taken from him moments before. He brandished the weapon, turning it side to side, letting it catch the light. The blade gleamed as the thing with Wyatt's face snarled, "How many times must I kill you before you learn that you cannot save him?"

"A few more times," Christopher bit back. "I guess I'm a slow learner."

"Then allow me to teach you," said Gideon with Wyatt's deepest, most menacing voice.

Despite the chills that tingled Christopher's spine, he beckoned Gideon into the room with a crook of his head. He backed up a few steps so that he could be in a good catching position when Gideon was close enough. He was one down, yes, but he wasn't out yet. He still had a trick or two up his own sleeve. Careful not to look in the direction of the weapons so that he wouldn't tip the guy off, Christopher allowed his adversary room to join him.

Again, the younger brother reminded himself, That is not your brother.

At the invitation, Gideon took charge, storming into the room instead of taking the casual stroll the boy must have expected. The heavy steel toed stomps across the attic floor thundered as he charged the boy, almost a mirror of the way the boy had charged him so many weeks ago.

Unable to simply stand there and watch her currently powerless son face off with his essentially identical twin's murderer, Piper stepped out from behind her forced shelter and flicked her wrists. Emotionally charged as she'd been over the last few weeks, her powers were certainly off. As a small puff of smoke bloomed in the doorway that Wyatt's body no longer occupied, she trained her eyes on the man charging her son. Again she snicked her wrists at the man, making magical contact, but not enough to slow him down in the slightest.

Seeing what was happening, Leo quickly orbed from his side of the room to the other, bringing his toddler son with him. As soon as he was at his wife's side, he grabbed both of her wrists and held them tight in his trembling hands. He sounded both angry and horrified as he reminded her, "Piper, stop! That's still Wyatt in there."

Piper's eyes widened in realized horror. Immediately they searched out her son, but she had to turn away as her husband tugged hard on her arms to pull her attention away. "Leo — "

"You can't interfere. They have to do this!"

Leo's shout had been just enough to distract Gideon away from taking Christopher on immediately. The boy was powerless, especially now without his brother, but Piper and Leo still had the ability to destroy him before he got the chance to end the future where it stood. The boy could wait the few seconds needed to incapacitate his parents. Besides, after what he'd done, Leo had earned it. Gideon knew how afraid of their son they were, how afraid the entire magical community was of the elder boy. His sneering visage would be more than enough to remind them of the good that he was going to do them all.

Seeing his one opportunity in Gideon's distraction, Christopher whispered, "Excalibur."

With Wyatt's most menacing voice, Gideon said, "I warned you, Leo. Look at what the future has become. You let this happen. I told you that you had no idea what you'd done. Now you leave me no choice. I — "

Two steps behind Gideon now, Christopher growled, "You are not my brother."

Ohgod, ohgod, ohgod, ohgod!

Before he could even comprehend what he was doing, Christopher raised the sword over his head and swung it around in a beautiful arc. He turned around, bringing the weapon first behind him then around so fast he couldn't have stopped it even if he tried. With what little control he had over the weapon, he guided it into the softest part of his brother's stomach, driving it in to the hilt. As it had when it had first been brought together with its sister weapon, Excalibur sang at the contact with living flesh. Christopher choked on the gasp that should have left his mouth as he felt his brother's body wrench to try to get away from the steel.

Wyatt's blazing blue eyes met his brother's with complete shock. Obviously Gideon never expected that Christopher would be able to strike his own flesh and blood such a devastating blow. The driver in the body stuttered, "H-ho-how?"

Unable to answer even Gideon because the answer itself was just too awful to put into words, Christopher said desolately, "Wyatt, now."

A confused look came over the adult Wyatt's face. Christopher could only imagine what the former Elder was going to say, but the words died on his lips as the second sword hurtled through the air under the surprisingly expert control of the toddler in the corner. Christopher saw Piper reach a hand out to stop her eldest, unaware of exactly what was going on. He also saw terror flood her features as she realized what it was that her boy was doing. All of it happened in a flash as the tip of the second Excalibur punctured through the adult Wyatt's chest, ripping through the man's lungs and flesh until that hilt was buried in his back as if they were meant to be attached.

Pure hatred fired up in Christopher's eyes as the thing in his brother's body reached a hand up to put on his shoulder to steady what was soon to be a fall. Too mad to know what to say, he remembered how Gideon had turned his brother into a monster even in his dreams, saw that little boy flash into a man just as he'd driven a sword into Christopher's body so vividly just two nights before. All of that hatred fused into the one thing that Christopher knew could sum it all up for him at the moment. Viciously he spat, "Made you look."

From that point, Wyatt's eyes screwed together to the center like he was going cross-eyed. He swayed on his feet drunkenly, his hands floating out to grasp at anything that could hold him steady. Christopher's face flinched with worry and fear, but quickly returned to the mask of hatred he knew he needed to keep on until this was over. If Wyatt had seen it, he would know immediately that Christopher did indeed have a plan and knew what he was doing. If Gideon had been the one to see, then it would a whole new ballgame. Christopher hoped to whatever gods were listening that Wyatt knew in his heart that he never would hurt him if he didn't have to.

He had to reign himself in from actually trying to comfort his brother and instead silently told himself, Hang on, big brother. I'm coming for you.

To the rest of the world, all they saw was Christopher step back from his brother's violently punctured body. The voice they heard come from his mouth was huge, much larger than should have been possible. There was such power behind it, it didn't seem natural at all.

"LET. HIM. GO." Christopher's entire body seemed to radiate heat at the thing with the strangling hold on his brother's soul. He didn't blink, didn't flinch. This was going to be his one chance.

Sickly, the thing driving Wyatt's body merely looked up at the younger of the brothers and grimaced a bloody grin at him. It laughed at him, knowing fully well what face he was using to tell the insolent little boy off with. "Until the two of you are gone, this world will never be safe. I've seen it. The others have seen it. You're both abominations. This filthy body is an abomination."

"Let him go, NOW!"

"I will end you both."

Without thought or warning, Christopher grasped the hilt of his version of Excalibur and tore it back out to the shock and disgust of everyone. He set his jaw and didn't look up, afraid of what it would do to him if he did, and said blackly to the thing in his brother's body, "Say that again."

This time, the thing that had been Gideon didn't say anything at all. There was a small flash in the man's eyes as they turned up to find his brother's. This time, it was very much Wyatt's voice that quivered at Christopher. There was what Christopher told himself was an involuntary tear that fell down his brother's face as Wyatt's voice said, "Do it, Chris. It's okay."

In that moment, Christopher faltered, just as he had secretly known he would. Chris had told him that his Wyatt had warned him that this could happen, that he would have to kill his own brother to save them. Chris hadn't believed it either, but he'd passed the request on. Christopher had thought Chris must have lost his mind after dying like he did, but Chris had promised him that he was more than lucid. He'd even asked the younger, dead version of himself if he could do it if it was him that was the one who was about to go into this battle. Chris had admitted that he didn't think he could, but then, he'd said, he'd done a lot of things he didn't know he was capable of to save Wyatt. Christopher wished to all the gods, named and unnamed, that it could be Chris standing here instead of him, but as Chris had also pointed out, this Wyatt was his brother, his responsibility, his other half. If it was to come to this, he was going to have to be the one to do it.

Christopher's face squinched up painfully as if he were going to cry, but he held it in by a thread. Forgive me, he mouthed at his brother, then said clearly to the toddler version of his brother, "Wyatt!"

Much more forgiving, even though Christopher doubted that was the reason why he did it, Little Wyatt orbed the second Excalibur from his future self's body, pointing his little finger, and replaced the terrible weapon back in The Stone where it belonged.

While Leo, Piper, and Little Wyatt's eyes unintentionally followed the brightness of the orbs away from the battered body in front of Christopher, the younger of the two men glued his attention to his brother. He wanted to be there when Wyatt's body pitched forward. The least he could do was catch his brother before he hit the floor. He'd been through enough. As Wyatt slumped forward, Christopher silently prayed, Please let me be right.

For one frightening second, Wyatt's body hovered before it collapsed heavily into his brother's waiting arms. Then, just as Christopher thought it would, the black cloud that Gideon had become fell backwards out of Wyatt's body, unable to control it any longer. As the mass chameleoned from light to dark then darker still, Christopher knew the last throes it was going to go through were only building. He lowered his brother to the ground as quickly but gently as he could, cradling the older man's head until there was nothing between his hand and the ground. As he slid his hand out, he called out urgently for his father.

"DAD! Heal him! PAIGE!"

He then ran away from Wyatt, needing to draw the cloud away from his brother's already battered form. He scraped the sword up from the ground on the way, doing his best not to notice the stains all along the blade. The GideonThing pinged around the room, bouncing into the floors, the walls, anything to try to escape to live to fight the family another day. As its energy began to sputter out, the thing that used to be Gideon seemed to know that if it was going to rid the world of the menace that was The Brothers Halliwell, it was going to have to use all of the momentum it could get. It began to dart around the room, harder and harder until it found its target. It did exactly what Christopher wanted it to do.

Come on, you sonofabitch, come on. That's it. Come on, right here. Let's go.

At least, it almost did what he wanted it to.

Christopher held Excalibur out in front of himself, both hands gripping it for dear life. As soon as he saw the thing coming at him in all its furious glory, he pointed it right at the cloud. It seemed to speed forward, kamikaze like, ready to take him on one last time. The thing that had once been an Elder, his father's dearest mentor, sliced itself through the sword, regardless of the power behind the weapon. The sword glowed with blue victory over its enemy, singing in harmony with the inhuman screaming agony of the cloud.

What Christopher didn't expect was the sheer determination the damned thing would have to get at him. Sparks flew from the hilt of the sword as the GideonThing slammed into it, digging and clawing its way beyond the barrier of the hilt. Before the younger of the brothers could do anything about it, Gideon was able to burst through the invisible power that Christopher had expected to be behind the sword. The cloud collided with his chest, bringing such pain. He had imagined what it was his sister had been through when it had happened to her, but imagination couldn't compare with how he felt now.

And yet, the pain wasn't what he would have expected either. He forced himself to look down so that he could see what was happening to him. What he saw surprised him. The GideonThing wasn't actually penetrating his chest like he thought. Particle after particle of evil slammed into him, cutting him like dull razor blades, but the evil didn't have the ability to get any further. As slow and painful as it felt to Christopher, the GideonThing charged into him only to turn to a pile of ash at his feet in a matter of seconds. Yeah, he didn't hate Excalibur quite so much anymore. Heavily, he gave the sword a pat, congratulations for an impossible job well done.

All energy spent, the younger of the two brothers stumbled backward, reeling from the feeling. The evil may not have been able to tear through him the way it had his sister, but it had been enough of a blow. Not that he had time to care yet. He had to be sure. It had to be gone. Gideon could never come after them, never again.

Weakly he called out to the present version of his brother, "Wyatt? Come here. I need your help."

Without hesitation, the toddler orbed over to the man he now knew was Chris. He still seemed to see a distinction that none of the others did, but he also seemed to know, this one was okay now, too. He appeared in front of Christopher, his thumb stuck in his mouth, but eyes shining. He was not afraid, not anymore.

Christopher took his little older brother's hand in his and said, "I need you to help me. You're a big boy, Wyatt. I know you can." He pointed at the pile of ash. The action of raising his arm to point caught his breath with pain, but he wasn't going to waste time thinking about it yet. He grit his teeth and explained, "You see that big pile of dirt? It's yucky. Mom doesn't want it in the house. We can't see it, not ever again. It's bad, bad mojo, kiddo. Do you understand? It's part of the bad man, Wyatt. You have to destroy it. Can you do that for me?"

The toddler proudly puffed his chest out, giggles reaching his eyes as he looked first at Christopher then at the big pile of nasty on his mommy's carpet. Little Wyatt pointed a stubby little finger at what remained of Gideon, raising it in the air in a cloud of orbs. The orbs shined with incredible gold brilliance as the boy's giggles grew. Then, as if he had to do something since he couldn't actually say 'Abracadabra', the boy smashed his hands together once in a loud CRACKing clap. The cloud of orbs and dust exploded in a shower of sparks that flung about the room, raining down on them all with a sense of finality.

Little Wyatt turned back around and looked up at Christopher, smile of satisfaction plastered all over his face. He knew exactly what was going on. Part of Christopher was even a little scared when the boy said to him in his little voice, " 'ood 'his 'ood. 'ood 'his win. 'ris and 'hat win."

Christopher didn't know exactly what to say to that, but he reached out a bloodied hand to ruffle the kid's hair. He brought the baby boy close to him, forgetting for a moment to be careful around him. So when Wyatt didn't even flinch, Christopher didn't notice. He hugged the boy close and kissed his hair. With an exhausted breath, he said, "You're safe now, big brother."

Pulling away from the hug, Little Wyatt reached his finger out to his younger older brother's nose, just as he had with the other Chris, and made a small gurgling noise. " 'e 'ood."

Christopher would have laughed if his father hadn't interrupted them, terrified. "Christopher, get over here. Bring Wyatt."

Quickly the man scrambled to his feet, biting the inside of his cheek to keep the pain at bay. He reached down to pick up his little brother but was unable to. He settled for taking the toddler's hand and pulling him along toward where he'd left his father and big brother. Together they stumbled along as fast as they could until Little Wyatt grew impatient with his little brother and orbed them both to their father's side.

When the chime of orbs let Leo know that his eldest was next to him, he said in the voice he used to talk to his smaller children, "Wyatt, Daddy needs your help."

Immediately, Christopher asked, "What's wrong?" He stepped around from behind his father's hunched form to find his brother lying in a pool of blood exactly where he'd left him. More forcefully, he asked again, "What's wrong?"

"He isn't healing," said Piper tightly.

"I can see that," growled Christopher, consumed in panic rather than manners or respecting his parents. "Why? Excalibur can't keep him from healing. It's supposed to be a force for good. We used it for good. It shouldn't be a problem."

Before the man could get too upset to get in the way, Piper pulled her future second-born a few steps back from his brother to give his father room to keep trying. Telling him the conclusion they had both reached while he'd been fighting what had remained of Gideon, she said, "We think it's because Gideon was still inside him. With that kind of evil — "

Angrily Christopher argued, "Chris told me that Wyatt told him he would be okay. His Wyatt told him that if he had to kill him, he would be okay."

"I don't think that's how he meant it, sweetie," said Piper gently. She reached down and took his hand and squeezed.

Now furious, the younger witch snapped at his parents, "Get him down here. Summon that sonofabitch down here right now. He — He told me!"

"Christopher — " Piper started, only to be cut off by an angry sob.

"No! Wyatt told him it would be okay. Chris told me it would be okay. He can't — It can't be like this. It's supposed to be okay."

Piper didn't know what else to say, so she just got over all of the insecurities that they had had over the last eight days and pulled her son to her tight. She held him hard, furiously running her hand through his hair, shooshing him the best she could. She knew he could see over her shoulder what was going on at their feet, but she had to try to distract him anyway. She tried to comfort him, even though she was barely able to comfort herself. Wyatt may have only been there for a day, but he was still hers. She was supposed to outlive her children. That was the rule. You outlive your kids. You don't watch them die over and over in a span of a few weeks. It just didn't work like that.

Into his mother's shoulder, Christopher said, "I never would have done it if I had known. If there was even a chance that — "

"Christopher?"

The weak, almost child-like sound of Wyatt's voice calling for his brother immediately erased the tears from the younger brother's eyes. He sniffed once, wiping the tears from his face on either side with the sleeves of his shirt. He steeled his features then worked his way down until he was the picture of calm and resilience. He owed his brother that much.

He dropped to his knees, although it was more of a fall than a drop considering the growing pain in his chest. He was starting to feel a little more pain than he thought he should, almost like the way Darklighter arrows probably hurt more than they should because of the poison. The oddness of the realization struck him as his knees hit the floor that he should probably be paying more attention to that idea, but he didn't think he had time to. His brother needed him. He could figure out what was wrong with him when they fixed Wyatt.

Christopher pulled himself along the floor, too tired to crawl, to his brother's side. He gave a quick questioning look to his father, who shook his head.

"Gideon was poison to him," Leo said. "Just like he was to Chris. There's nothing I can do."

The younger man didn't answer with much more than a nod of the head before he turned his attention on his brother. It was Wyatt who mattered now. It was always Wyatt who mattered. They were brothers. End of story. He quietly swallowed back his pain, which seemed to have grown to the point of numbing anyway. In one look he saw that his brother was fading so quickly, he knew they didn't have much time left. He could deal with the pain if it made Wyatt's last moments a little easier. The guy had been through enough. Bound and determined, even as their parents started to whisper next to them, Christopher laid down next to Wyatt so that his face was only inches from his brother's.

"Hey," he said with a wan smile.

"Been to any good massacres lately," Wyatt panted instead of what he intended to be a laugh.

"Please," Christopher scoffed. He lied to himself, like he liked to, that if he just cheered his brother on hard enough, he would be right. Be okay. You have to be okay. He told me you would be okay. Please, please, please . . . "That's barely a scratch. As soon as we heal that up, you and me, we're going to Australia. I hear it's nice there this time of year."

Leo wrapped one hand around his wife's shoulders, but continued trying to heal Wyatt with his free hand. He ignored the tears in his eyes as his hands searched for a way to heal the man, even though he knew that it would be just as futile to try to save this boy as it had been to save Chris and Lucy before him. He knew it was crazy. He'd just told Christopher so. And yet, he didn't know how to do anything else but try. Once again, one of his boys was going to die and he would be powerless to stop it. He caught a little movement in the corner of his eye and saw Wyatt's hand searching blindly for Christopher's. Leo reached in between his boys and joined their bloodied hands so that they could be together for their last few moments. With his other hand, he reached up to take comfort in Piper's arms as they wrapped around his neck in fear.

Wyatt started to laugh, but ended up coughing. Between gasps for air, he gulped with as much a smile as he could get, "Australia, huh?"

"It's about time, don't you think?"

"Y-yeah," whistled Wyatt, unable to force too much air from his lungs. It was really starting to hurt to talk. If he could only get that blood bubble out of the back of his throat, he'd probably be fine, but it didn't seem to want to move. He choked a little, though, which made it somewhat easier to say what he needed to say. "Hey, Ch-Chris?"

"Hmm?"

"Did we have a fight? I have this weird feeling w-we had a fight."

"Nah. We had a creative negotiation."

"Oh," said Wyatt, as if that was a perfectly logical explanation, one that explained any of what had happened to them the day before, let alone in the last seven years of their lives. Their fight either forgotten or forgiven, Wyatt's mind turned randomly to their sister, not knowing why he was going in that direction or if it was even a real direction to go in in the first place. "Do you think that if we hound h-her enough, she'll name the-the baby after me?"

"Ugly? You want her to name her kid 'Ugly'? Now that's a rotten way to start out a life," Christopher said softly. He fought to hold back the tears that were just waiting to make their debut. So much lost . . . "We'll see. For now, I think you need to save your strength, okay? We'll worry about baby names once the baby gets here."

"But she is pregnant, right? Everything is so fuzzy, like I've been drunk for a really, really long time or something. I think I know things, but then they just seem s-so — Hey, I f-forgot to tell you. There's a guy I need you to me-eet, Charlie. He's from Up There, but he's on our. . .on our side. He is this — Christopher? I — What was I saying? It's so hard to th-hink with this fog, I — She's mad at me, isn't she? She's been ignoring me for days now. I feel like I haven't seen her in days. She . . . I think she's mad at me."

"Not anymore," Christopher sniffed. "I promise. No one is mad at you anymore."

"Good. I hate it when you two are mad at me. Anyone else, I don't care. But you two, I can't take it when you're mad at me."

Christopher reached up with his bloodied hand, not caring anymore, and gently raked his brother's hair, over and over. Wyatt's eyes started to dull as the gesture started to lull him to sleep. He coughed back the tears and said, "I know. You never could. I promise, I'm never going to be mad at you, ever again."

"Good. I don't think I . . . Chris? I'm really tired."

"It's okay. Go to sleep. When you wake up, we'll . . . uh . . . You're going to feel so much better when you wake up. Everything will be better when we both wake up."

"You're tired, too?"

"Yeah. Really tired," Christopher sighed, grinding a bloody hand into his jeans to hide the stain.

"When we get h-home, we have got to work on these co-dependency iss-ssues," said Wyatt bluntly around a cough.

"Definitely."

"But you'll be here when I wake up," asked Wyatt. "I don't know why, but I have this feeling you won't-t be here. I'm so tired, but I —"

"I'll be here. You're safe."

"Safe is good. I l-like safe. Hey . . . Let-let's not go to Austral-alia. I want to s-see the snow-ow gardens . . . Just you and me." Wyatt's eyes closed for too long a time. Just when Christopher was about to shake him awake, though, he blinked exhaustedly. His eyes were unfocused, but somehow still found his brother. He sounded so sad as he confessed, "I haven't felt safe in a long time. So tired. I haven't been able to just close my eyes in years. It was like you were gone."

Christopher was happy to let his brother think that he was the one who was lost in these last moments. If that meant that Wyatt would finally have some serenity in his life (or afterlife), he was okay with that. He squeezed Wyatt's hand as hard as he could. He didn't bother to hide the tears in his voice as he said, "I'm here now. I'll always be here. You really are safe."

"So are you, you know."

"I know." Christopher held his breath as his brother smiled then took his last breath. As Wyatt's features settled into a look of true peace, Christopher could feel himself smiling. He pressed a kiss into his brother's hair. "Blessed be, big brother. May you finally find peace."

With his family gathered around him, the future king of the magical world slowly faded away to the loss of all.

When Wyatt was gone, Christopher closed his eyes tightly. He had to fight the impulse to scream and swear and throw a childish snit to rival all snits. He most wanted to blast Wyatt to Hell — not his Wyatt, the one from Chris's world. How could he have asked his brother to that? And how could Chris have even remotely thought that that was okay to tell him? It was beyond cruel. But then, they didn't know that. They weren't the ones who had to do it. Damn them both anyhow.

Christopher didn't realize that he'd been occupied wit his thoughts for so long when he felt his father worriedly shaking him awake. "Dad?"

Leo was holding Christopher with his son's back up against his chest, attempting to help the man sit up. His arms were held out straight in front of him on either side of his boy, hands shaking. "What — what is that?"

The blood on Leo's hands was fresh, not the already brown rust from Wyatt's unhealable wounds. Christopher weakly shrugged and said the same thing he'd said to his brother, "It's a scratch. Don't worry. You worry too much."

With trembling fingers, Piper ignored the declaration, reached over and pulled at the oversized shirt on her son's chest. There was an urgency to her as she gave up being able to save the shirt (one of Leo's many plaid flannels) and yanked the two panels apart, sending buttons flying in every direction. Immediately her hands pulled back when she found the inky black mess on her son's chest. "Oh, god."

Christopher didn't bother to look down or respond. Quite frankly, he was too tired to. Besides, the look on his mother's face was enough. Quietly he tried to give her something to do. "It's okay, Mom. Just take Wyatt downstairs. I don't want him to see this." When she looked like she was going to argue, he pleaded, "Please. For both of us."

Piper sniffed back tears then hauled herself painfully to her feet with barely a nod. Nodding would be admitting that something was wrong. She hadn't even been here last time, but she still couldn't do this again. No way. Nuh-uh. This was not going to happen. So maybe if she took Wyatt to Paige and came back, it would give Leo enough time to fix it. He had to fix it. Doing this was otherwise completely unacceptable.

Once his mother was going, Christopher tried to give his father a grin, despite the returning pain in his wounds. "Wow. Dad, you never . . . never told us how much dying sucks."

"I didn't know I had to. What is that?"

"The same thing that took Lulu, I think."

Leo gulped back sickness. He already knew the answer, but asked anyway, "You're telling me there's nothing I can do?"

"You can . . . You can talk to me."

Leo held Christopher harder, as if holding his son to this world could keep the angels from taking his boy away from him a second time. "Don't go."

"Please, Dad, t-talk to me."

"Okay," said Leo in a strangely quiet, accepting voice. He sounded like he was trying to make this as easy as possible, knowing that begging wasn't going to get it done, not after three deaths before this. It was too much to try to fix it anymore. He'd keep trying, but he wasn't going to let his son see him afraid, not anymore. They'd all had enough of that. He was beyond being afraid anymore. Now he was just plain ticked off and would remain so long after this son was gone. In the same quiet voice, he started, "With everything that's happened in the last few days, I haven't had a chance to tell you about the day that we brought you home from the hospital. . . "

The golden glow that Leo wanted so desperately to come to heal his boy refused to appear even as he did as requested. He would do his best to make his son's death easy if he had to, but that didn't mean that he couldn't' try to prevent it at the same time. When Piper returned after sending Wyatt to Valhalla with Paige, he gave her a tearful warning look before she sat down next to her men.

It's happening again and there's nothing we can do. Again.

Together, the three of them sat quietly for a while, willing Christopher to live even though they all knew it was impossible. Leo held his son and wife in his arms, rocking them both gently until his son eventually fell asleep. Leo choked on a sob and pulled Piper closer when they felt their son go the way of his sister and brother. Piper collapsed on his chest when their baby boy faded out of their arms, leaving them alone once more.

For the second time in less than a month, the parents were left to mourn alone. They held each other close, unable to let go. They were so lost in their grief that they didn't notice the new figure in the room, staring down at them with a gentle, warm smile.

"Have either of you looked outside tonight? It really is a beautiful night to die."

---

If you had half as much fun reading this chapter as I had writing it, then I had twice as much fun writing it as you had reading it. Heh. Thanks for reading.