Disclaimer:
Wyatt: Chris, you know…In the last chapter…I mean…I'm not that evil, am I ???
Chris: Oh yes you were that evil, brother! But if I will succeed, all of this will only be a bad memory. It will never really happen. Those are the benefits of time travelling.
Wyatt: But if you don't?
Chris: Oh then we will only have to destroy some scripts of charmed season six, and a few hundred-thousand copies of the seasons DVDs, and alter a few hundred memories of actors and set staff and…
Wyatt: But Chris we are real!
Chris: OK, forget the script and TV staff things. Man, fanfiction is really disturbing sometimes. Of course we are real. If we were not I could do this…++kicks Wyatt in the shin++
Wyatt: Ouch!!! Are you nuts??
Chris: …and you wouldn't feel a thing of it. Did you get the idea? We are real!
Wyatt: So we are real, but the things dragons writes about us are fiction, and even if they were real they would be in the future, so they only could be real some day if you take in account that we are real. Man bro, that's confusing.
You can say that again, Wy! So why still bother your pretty heads about something, and not starting with the next part of the story??
Both: Hey dragons!
Hey boys!
Chris: So if you can do everything with your story, why are you so cruel????
Maybe I spend too much time with Wyatt, a.k.a. the source++eyes gleam red+++
Chris: Oh no! I have really bad vibes about this one!!!
Don't worry boys. At least
I don't own you.
Everything will be fine in the end, because I have to give you back unharmed.
So trust me++VEG++
…
And now Chris hide, cause it's going to get ugly…Could it get worse…yes it could…!
Chapter twelve / part three:
There was a long silence between the brothers. The tension was so tangible that the demons in the room didn't even dared to breathe.
Forces seemed to fight in the sources mind.
Wyatt knew that this was the moment when he had to go through with his threads, to make an example out of this.
Everyone would know that NO-ONE, even the sources brother would go against him unpunished.
Chris would learn-
They ALL would learn.
The source had ultimately lost its patience, and unfortunately Christopher Halliwells "legendary luck" had put him right now into the path of its unappeasable wrath.
Wyatt glared evilly at the beaten and worn out boy. Every glimpse of human traits that might have existed in him when he had looked into his brothers eyes was gone.
It seemed that the eternal bond that had welded together generations of Warrens and Halliwells would end here - just this moment shattered for ever.
"I have something for you to make your gift last…!" The source sneered bare of any compassion for the pained soul before it.
"I made this especially for you Christopher!"
With that it took out a vial with a muddy green glowing content, and poured it down over Chris already maltreated back and arms.
It hurt like nothing the young whitelighter had experienced before. The burning of the potion, which felt like it gnawed itself right down to the core of his soul, did not wear of but rather became more intense from second to second.
The urge to scream out his pain became overwhelming, but there was simply no strength left to do so.
The youngest Halliwell could merely wince in his chains and cling tenuously to life.
He took ragged breaths while he tried to hold his brothers stare – fighting the wars of willpower to the bitter end.
"This is to let you never…ever…forget who is the one and only dominator of power in this!" The source gave a dirty laugh while he imitated Chris, in his eyes pathetic, speech.
Wyatt pushed his sneering mouth as near as he could next to the boys face.
Chris could feel the hot breath in his neck as his tormentor whispered in his ear.
"So who is your overlord, my little wannabe-revolutionist?"
The picture was so piteously, that even the demons hoped that the young whitelighter would finally give in. But Chris remained silent.
"So he needs a little more persuasion!" Wyatt laughed nasty and sent angry glances to his demons, which at last brought them to join in with their growling laughter.
"So let me leastwise sign our little fine work of art. A literally "still-work" it is!"
With that the source put the palm of his hand on Chris right shoulder blade.
White hot pain shot into it and over flooded his whole body.
Before he could embrace the warm blackness of unconsciousness once more Chris heard his brother's vile voice whisper "Happy birthday, pretty boy – oh wait, the girls will seriously have to think about a new nickname for you from now on!"
…
Chris awoke some times later as the demons removed the chains and he hit the ground with a nasty thud
"Just set him free" he heard Wyatt's voice, now cool and indifferent.
"I will get him back here whenever I want…And I will get you back Christopher! This isn't over yet. Not until you join me!"
Wyatt left the room as if nothing had ever happened.
The two demons picked Chris up and dragged him out where they simply dumped him on the street.
After some whispering and sniggering one of the demons threw an old shabby blanket after the broken whitelighter.
"Better wear this" he growled laughing "…or you scare the poor demons on the streets to death with your appearance!"
With these words the demons left and shut the massive steel portal of the building, which marked the same big "W" as now did Chris´ throbbing right shoulder…
…
For a long time Chris lay there on the hot pavement, unable to move or even think.
Despite the heat outside, as he lay in the full burning afternoon sun, which had brought the asphalt with their unblocked rays over the day to almost unbearable temperatures, he had wrapped himself into the old blanket. Once more in his miserable life he wished to become simply invisible.
After what could have been minutes, as good as hours or years Chris carefully began to move again.
The only impulse at the moment was to get away from Wyatt. As far as he could!
He took two or three unstable steps – then he started to run.
"Haven't we been here before?" his hazy mind asked - Bianca's and his sort of "running gag".
The two of them found themselves ever and ever again in the same miserable situations - it sometimes seemed like a cruel time-loop of destiny.
Running from the source, fighting for their lives, hiding in dingy places, and always the same phrase:"Haven't we been here before?" For the teens this was sort of their mantra showing that it would always go on, no matter what.
…
There was only running – he would run till his legs gave in beneath him, which was, truth to be told, not far in his current miserable state.
Chris felt sweat and blood trickle down his back and arms and his breathing became more and more laboured.
Then he fell…
…
It was no big dramatic fall of a hero. In contrary, he simply broke down in the middle of a glowing hot alley beneath a house entrance, which somebody had made his personal garbage dump.
Down in the dumps, that's where it always ended somehow…
…but before he hit the ground, Chris felt strong arms gently catch him.
"Dad, what…" were his last words before his world went black again…
TBC…