-I don't own Charmed

-This chapter takes place right before 8x01 Still Charmed and Kicking.

Crlncyln- Thanks for being such a loyal reader. Unfortunately I can't answer your question without spoiling what's to come.

Enjoy! Reviews are appreciated and motivate me to update sooner (but I won't withhold chapters because the lack of reviews)

Death. Noun. Five Letters. One Syllable. The sad truth is everyone dies. Whether it's violent or non, fast or slow, now or a hundred years from now…even sometime in between, everyone dies. The magnitude of this tragedy is so great that it's hard to believe it happens everyday. In his past life, in the now no longer existing future, Ben Hall was no stranger to the grim reaper snatching up loved ones.

At fourteen he lost his mother- the first domino that started the slaughter. Next to fall was his grandfather, then aunts, uncles, cousins, friends… everyone dropping like flies until he came back. Even then the relentlessness of death caught up to him, catching Bianca in its cold vise grip.

Hundreds upon thousands of souls lost to the grim reaper… even his own. No, Ben Hall is no stranger to death but that doesn't make the pictures of his family in the obituary section of the Bay Mirror any easier. Right there in black in white is news that might as well have taken bodily form, jabbed its fist into his chest, and yanked out his heart.

The words are right there staring him in the face. Smiling, happy faces of deceased loved ones are staring him in the face. He just can't believe it. In fact, he down right refuses. He just saw them four days ago. The coffee cup falls out of his hand and he orbs out before it shatters on the ground at the liquid pools into a larger growing puddle.

The second he sets foot up there, his head snaps in every which direction, at a rate that would probably give him whiplash more sooner than later, looking for someone, anyone who could supply him with answers. Whitelighters and Elders moved around him in frenzy. Something terrible was happening in the magical community and he has a sickening feeling his disbelief would soon be shattered. Giving up waiting out, he screams the question on his mind.

Ben: "Is it true..? Are the Charmed Ones dead?"

Suddenly the sea of Whitelighters and Elders scatter and two Elders remain. The moment they take off their hoods and reveal saddened expressions, Ben knows. They don't have to say yes. He just wants answers and he is going to get them.

Ben: "How'd it happen?"

Sandra looks to Odin and he looks back to her, neither one wanting to answer, or knowing where to begin. He slams his fist into a pillar sickened by the fact that the people with all the answers keeping quiet.

Ben: "Damn it! I asked how it happened."
Sandra: "Zankou got ahold of the Book of Shadows and tried to open the Spiritual Nexus. The sisters came to the realization that the only way to stop Zankou was to sacrifice themselves. They destroyed both him and the Nexus… but at a grave cost."
Ben: "Where was Leo? Why didn't he heal them?"
Odin: "Leo hasn't been an elder for some time now. He fell from grace."
Ben: "What? You left them unprotected. My God! You might as well have wrapped the nooses around their necks."
Sandra: "Ben, you must let us explain—"
Ben: "Explain why you abandoned them! Nothing you can say will ever make that okay!"
Sandra: "We cannot begin to understand what you're going through but they died for the greater good."

The calm tone the Elders use doesn't do anything for Ben other than make him want to yank out their jugulars. Before his thoughts have a chance to turn into action, he casts them aside long enough to get his final statement.

Ben: "If I didn't think I'd need these powers to protect Wyatt and Melinda, I'd fall from grace and tell you where to shove your greater good."

The hate crashing over him comes in waves that make a tsunami look like nothing. Suddenly it's to much and his breaths become shallower. The negative charges he masks within attack him in an all consuming manner. The more he tries to fight his power- to bottle it up and not turn his most heinous thoughts into actions- the stronger it becomes. He crumbles under its strength and prays that his orbs will carry him to the underworld fast enough.

Ben's a time bomb waiting to explode. Every vein in his body feels like it's being grinded down with sand paper. Knives might as well be pricking at his skin, his body heat rises at an alarming rate, and he feels himself ripping apart at the seams. He tells himself not to let it go… to just hold on, for fear of what might come.

Scather Demon 1: "Well, well. Looks like someone's got a death wish."

Looking through burning eyes, Ben manages to make out a blurred figure hovering over him and at least two dozen more shimmering in behind him. Ben curses their timing and them adding fuel to the dark fire blazing within. Feeling his insides wanting to curl up, he crouches into himself and presses his head to the cool dirt of the underworld floor and fights the urge to scream out.

Suddenly, he feels a hand tug on his brown tousled mane and groans as his head rises up in compliance. Through squinted eyes he sees the menacing circle closing in around them, the malice in their leader's expression as he holds a fireball in his hand that blazes brightly. Then he relinquishes, certain it's a kill shot. Before the flaming ball could reach the seeming helpless whitelighter, his grip on his powers slip, and a bolt of lightning is expelled from the hand he threw up to shield himself.

Once he let the bolt of lightning leave his hand, he couldn't stop the power from surging. The others Scather Demons are baffled as he turns to them, lightning bolts burning in his eyes. Bolts of lightning form around his hands while he stretches them out to either side of him. Then he lets it flow- all the hatred and aggression he's let fester within his very soul. Blood-curdling cries fill the cavern and Ben didn't even realize some of them were his. The room lit up so bright that it burns blue and blinds the dying demons.

As the bolts get stronger his body is raised, as if the lightning coursing through him is propelling him upward. The blood pounding in his ears drowns out all the silence and his chest heaves wildly as his lungs scream for air. All the anger festering within his soul- whether it was over their deaths, abandonment issues, past betrayals- was expelled until he was sucked dry. By the time his body expelled as much lightning as it would allow, he fell back onto his knees in the thin layer of ash that is scattered around the cavern floor.

Billie: Ben!

His body is drenched in sweat, his hair to the point of dripping wet. The clothes he wears is branded with scorch marks from lightning exiting his back and chest, as well as the marks from a few fireballs. Mixtures of mud and ash sticks to his skin but he's to focused on taking the necessary steps to get air into his chest. He rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling questioning what to do now that his purpose for living is gone and his fears of being alone are starting to become more real.

Billie: Ben!

Light filtered through the floor to ceiling window, leaving slants of illumination splattered across the 14x15 bedroom. Billie squinted for a second, momentarily cursing the light before rolling over and burying her head deeper into the pillow. However, it's not the scent of her vanilla shampoo she smells on her pillow. It's the Polo cologne… his cologne.

That's when she remembers. These aren't her pillows. That isn't her window the lights streaming through, and this isn't her apartment. In her groggy, I-just-woke-up, state of mind it takes a moment to recollect the events that transpired the night before.

…Dorm…Class…Library…Getting attacked… Attacked!

Ben must have saved her… again and brought her here. She slowly gets up remembering taking a fireball to the chest. Imagine her surprise when there isn't a stitch of pain. It almost makes her question whether or not she'd imagined the whole fight. Almost. The scorch mark on her shirt proved otherwise.

She crawls out of bed, wipes the sleep from her eyes, and walks out into the hallway. Where was Ben? She checked the study and walked out into the main room. Her intentions are to keep walking when she heard the TV on but stops when a cold liquid starts to get absorbed by her socks. A broken coffee mug, the puddle of coffee stretched across the floor, the dining room chair turned over…Something was wrong. Billie just had no Idea what.

Billie: Ben!

She remembered that he said just to call if she needed anything. She can't help but smile remembering the way he corrected himself… 'I mean if you want anything because you're a young independent witch that doesn't need anything from the whitelighter boy.'

Sarcasm seems to be their second language and he kept saving her… her knight in shining armor. Wait. Did she just brand him hers? She could kick herself. She kept reminding herself that it is his job to protect her. It's strictly plutonic between her and the gorgeous whitelighter… Wait. Gorgeous? Oh god, who was she trying to kid? She's head over heels for the boy. Now all she had to do was find him.

Billie: Ben!

She expects him to orb in with that glimmer of mischief in his eyes- not bloodshot, puffy, red rimmed eyes filled with pain and misery. It appears that he went through hell and back and, knowing the selfless whitelighter, he just may have. They sit there for a minute, eyes locked green on green.

Billie: Hey, are you alright?
Ben: No. I'm not alright. Haven't been for… God knows how long.

He walks through the coffee obliviously numb to the fact that he's making tracks on the tile. The numbness taking over his thoughts and actions would make a zombie look lively… and he hates it. He'd rather feel the pain of loss, the tragedy of abandonment, than go back to being a soullessly numb being. How's he supposed to live a life without direction, purpose, meaning.

Now he had nothing to hope for and everything to fear, nothing planned and empty dreams. The last traces of Christopher Perry Halliwell inside of him- the side that clung to his parents and aunts- mourns their loss but they aren't his anymore. This Piper isn't his Piper- the one that would kiss his boo boos and teach him to cook. This Phoebe isn't the one that took him to the park or gave him advice on how to ask a girl out. This Paige isn't his teacher, his mentor. She isn't the one that supported him at every basketball game. This Leo isn't the man that abandoned him and well… maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

Billie: Ben, what happened?
Ben: You don't need to worry about Scather Demons anymore.
Billie: I'm more concerned about you than the demons right now, Ben.
Ben: My name's not Ben… or at least it hasn't always been. Look I know this probably doesn't make sense and I've got a lot to explain but it'll have to wait. I gotta… I gotta get ready for a memorial service. My parents… and my aunts, they're uh, they're dead.
Billie: Oh God, Ben, I'm so sorry.

Fundamentally speaking, what gets us through a crisis is who we are. Nobody can do it for you but that doesn't mean they won't try. Billie's facial expression screamed save me- internally fighting her own unresolved issues with death- but her heart says protect him, be there for him. So that's what Billie wants to do. She'll do whatever she can to be there for him. You see, Billie is a special kind of person- the kind that follows their heart over their head and cares for the well being of others.

His morning has given him a hundred reason to cry reasons to hate, reasons to shut out the rest of the world. Ben wants nothing more than to do just that but knowing her words solely for his benefit makes him feel guilty for playing the cold uncaring card he's about to pull. He simply can't take the thought of falling for her and losing her too. People always leave him, whether they wants to or not. It's simply been his experience.

Ben: Me too. But it doesn't bring them back.
Billie: You're right. It doesn't. But you once told me that you wanted to look past all the black spots of your life and something tells me pushing people away who want to be there for you isn't going to make any bright ones.
Ben: Why delay the inevitable. Push before they take off in a dead sprint.
Billie: Cynic.
Ben: Optimist.
Billie: Broody.
Ben: Cheery.
Billie: Okay, since everything has an opposite… this game could go on forever. How about we call a truce and you let me go with you to that memorial ceremony- strength and numbers and what not.
Ben:… Deal.

A warm embrace engulfs him before he can even begin to protest. Then there it is again. That charged spark zaps him in the chest, jumpstarting his traumatized heart. And in that moment, she takes him back to the days he believed the world was filled with infinite possibilities and he felt like he could fly. It is in that moment he knows she's gonna be his life raft through the storm, the compass to direction, meaning, and fortitude. She's the one that shows him that life isn't a race to the finish line. That death may be inevitable but so is life.

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