FALSE MEMORIES
My first posted story here. Also my first Charmed Fanfic, although I have written fanfiction for other shows.
Disclaimer: The characters in Charmed do not belong to me. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Summary: Loved the Piper/Leo/Chris family dynamic in Season 6 so that's when this story is based. Set after Chris-Crossed and Prince Charming. Nobody knows who Chris is yet, but they're about to find out, courtesy of an unexpected visitor from the future…
Notes: Hey! I've just had a week off work and have therefore had much more free time to write. So, as well as posting the first chapter of my new story 'A Rift in Time,' I've also had time to complete the next part of this one :-)
So, here it is then. The chapter we've been building towards for the last I don't know how many parts and nearly as many months too. I'm a little bit nervous about posting it actually. I hope it fulfils everyone's expectations. It chops and changes POV quite a bit but I think that keeps the momentum going. Oh and there's one bad word in it, but our hero is rather angry!
So, with no further ado then, let the final battle commence…
OOOOOO
Chapter 35 – The Power of Two
Late afternoon, Chicago…
Stacey Macklin stood at the large picture window of her friend Paul's second floor apartment, gazing out over the street below with unseeing eyes. It was raining, a cold, wet drizzle that filled the air outside with a chill humidity that you could taste on your tongue each time you opened your mouth. A constant procession of brightly coloured umbrellas moved like a multi-hued centipede along the rain-drenched sidewalk as the city's population went about their day-to-day business, utterly oblivious to the momentous events taking place in a co-existing but largely unseen plane of reality.
Stacey wasn't interested in the weather however. Nor was she too bothered about the bustling activity in the busy, residential street two storeys below. Her mind was on other things, her thoughts far away. She was one of the limited few that lived in that aforementioned reality, you see. A hidden reality filled with witches, demons and other such wonders and nightmares of nature; a reality where a lone young man was willing to sacrifice his very life so that the uninitiated could live on in blissful ignorance.
Her last phone call from Chris had been that morning, hours ago now. He'd told her that his battle with Alcathan would take place that night, and her heart had been filled with dread ever since. She'd always known when the next call would come before this. Now though, she was forced to kill time and wait for the phone to ring and bring her the news that she hoped for.
If the phone rang, that was.
She shuddered and drew the cream, woollen shawl she was wearing closer around her shoulders in an attempt to ward off the psychosomatic chill. Chris had sounded tired on the phone, and he was ominously evasive when she'd questioned him about the state of his physical health. Guilt weighed heavily on her mind. She'd let herself be talked around too easily, let the strength of Chris's convictions overwhelm her better judgement. What was happening to him shouldn't be kept secret, she realised that now, his family needed to know before it was too late…
The scrapping sound of a key in the lock pulled her out of her dark thoughts, and she turned to see Paul enter the apartment with a couple of bags of groceries tucked under one arm. He smiled at her in greeting, and then crossed to deposit his cargo on the black, marble-effect counter that divided the kitchen from the lounge space in the apartment's open-plan living and dining area.
"Coffee?" he asked, after he had shrugged off his wet coat and hung it up in the closet near the front door.
Stacey nodded. "Please," she responded quietly, and then turned back to her contemplation of the rain-swept world outside.
She didn't know how long she stood there, listening to the sounds of Paul unpacking the groceries in the kitchen behind her. It couldn't have been long, but she was still a little startled when he reached around her body and placed a steaming mug of coffee in her hands.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, his breath pleasantly warm against the back of her neck.
Stacey sighed. "I'm not sure what there is to say," she said, half-turning towards him and sitting down on the low, cushioned bench that ran the length of the long window.
Paul sat down facing her, his knees brushing hers and his left arm resting along the windowsill beside her. After taking a sip of his drink, he set his coffee mug aside and reached out to tuck a few stray strands of her hair behind her ear. His fingers were gentle and she leaned into his touch almost without thinking about it.
"We can go to San Francisco if you want," he offered quietly.
"What about the Art conference?"
Paul shrugged. "It's not important."
Stacey smiled in spite of herself. "I thought you said it was the perfect opportunity to drum up some extra business for your studio."
"It is, but that's just work. This is you and there's nothing more important than that – not to me anyway."
Stacey felt her cheeks flush and she lowered her gaze with an uncharacteristic show of shyness. She still couldn't quite believe what a difference her confession had made to their friendship.
She'd always liked Paul, but had always held him at arm's length too. He'd been her place to retreat to when the rigors of her daily life became too much for her. She hadn't let him into her everyday existence because she'd wanted to preserve that oasis of calm for those times when she needed an escape. By necessity, their relationship had always been strictly platonic therefore – he was her confidante, her sounding board. He gave her an unbiased opinion because he didn't know every last detail of her life.
Things had changed between them over the last day or so though. Paul had taken her confession about being a witch remarkably well. Although shocked at first, his curiosity soon got the better of him and he'd questioned her with interest about everything that it entailed. He hadn't fainted dead away when she'd demonstrated her fire-starting ability either - although he had looked a little wild around the eyes, she remembered with an inward smile.
The biggest change had come on a more personal level though. It was as if the floodgates had suddenly opened between them and they were connecting in an entirely different way to how they had done before. Paul's calm acceptance of who she was made Stacey look at him with new eyes, and he himself acted as if he'd finally found the answer to a question that he'd been asking himself for years.
"I'd always wondered why," he'd remarked thoughtfully just before she'd gone to bed the previous night.
"Wondered what?" she'd asked, pausing at the door of the spare bedroom as they bid each other goodnight.
"Why you were so closed off," he'd replied. "You've always held a part of yourself back from me. I guess I figured it was just because…" He'd trailed off then with a small, deprecating shrug. "Well, never mind…"
"Paul?"
He's shaken his head at her. "Get some sleep, Stacey. We'll talk again in the morning."
And talked they had – about Chris and what was happening back in San Francisco, because she didn't think she could explain away her obvious distraction in any other way. Most of all though, they talked about the two of them - their hopes and dreams, plans for the future, all of that. She discovered there was a whole lot more to Paul than she'd actually ever realised. Sure, he was the same spiritual and introspective guy that she'd always known, but he was also funny and gregarious too, a facet of his personality that had, until now, largely passed her by.
"Stacey?" Paul's voice was quiet and reflective in tone, and she lifted her gaze in response to the slightly hesitant way in which he spoke her name.
"I'm sorry I shouldn't have said that," he apologised.
Stacey regarded him steadily, a vague sense of disappointment stirring in her belly. "You shouldn't?" she asked in a voice that barely rose above a whisper.
Paul self-consciously looked away from her penetrating gaze. "No, I…" He let out his breath in mild exasperation and then looked back at her. "Should I?" he asked with an expectant hope shining in the rich caramel hue of his eyes.
Stacey's answer was to lean over and kiss him, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Paul, however, was much more wary of the situation.
"Stacey," he said, pulling back from her, "I can't do this. Not if… what about this Chris?"
Stacey smiled. "What about him?" she said, reaching for him again.
Unfortunately, Paul wasn't so easily reassured and he held up his hands to ward her off. "You obviously care about him," he pointed out.
Stacey nodded. "Yes, but he's a friend, nothing more. I can't really explain why exactly. I guess maybe it's because he's best friends with my baby niece in the future. It sort of reminds me exactly how old he is..."
"And you're not a cradle-snatcher," Paul finished for her.
Stacey laughed. "No, and even if I was, I don't think there'd be anything between us anyway. Chris is a great guy but he's not really my type."
Paul nodded. "And you're not just saying that?" he double-checked.
"Do you honestly think I would lie to you?" Stacey asked.
Paul shook his head. "No, no, I'm sorry. I just… I've wanted this for a long time, Stacey," he confessed.
"Why did you never say anything?" she asked him.
Paul shrugged. "I didn't think you were ready to hear it."
Stacey sighed. "You were probably right about that," she told him.
Paul cupped her chin in his hand and lifted her face so that she was forced to look him in the eye. "Question is, are you ready now?" he asked solemnly.
Stacey looked at him, considering the ramifications carefully, knowing that this might be the most crucial decision of her entire life. "Yes, yes, I reckon I am," she eventually concluded.
Paul's answering smile was like the sun coming up. "Well finally," he said and pulled her back into the circle of his arms, his previous hesitancy cast by the wayside.
Stacey's heart was hammering ten to the dozen when he finally released her. His kisses were both electric and soothing at the same time. They set off a storm of butterflies in her stomach, but also filled her with a warm contented glow. How could she have been so blind? She'd searched far and wide for the right man, and he'd been right under her nose the entire time.
She smiled warmly at him and then buried her face in the soft skin of his throat, breathing in of his spicy, masculine scent as she wrapped her arms around his back. Paul tenderly kissed the top of her head and stroked her hair, holding her to him with a kind of gentle possessiveness that she knew she could get used to with little or no persuasion whatsoever.
"So – do you want to go back to San Francisco?" he asked her.
Stacey lifted her head and nodded. "Yes, I need to… Chris's family have to know what's going on and I think I ought to tell them in person. You don't have to come though – it might be dangerous. We'll be walking back into a magical war zone."
"Forget that, I'm coming with you," Paul told her firmly. "You don't get away from me that easily, you know."
Stacey shot him a rather whimsical look. "I hope not," she said in a bashful tone.
Paul cupped her face between his hands and kissed her again, then rose purposely to his feet. "Go and pack your things," he instructed, "And I'll organise us a flight."
As Stacey retreated into the bedroom to gather up her scattered possessions, she wondered how she'd ever gotten by without him…
OOOOOO
Magic School…
"If he's a bit fretful, give him his cup with some warm milk in," Piper instructed. "That usually settles him off. If that doesn't work though, he likes it if you sing to him – 'Twinkle, twinkle little star' is his favourite, but other nursery rhymes work as well."
She stopped and looked sharply at the older woman standing opposite her. "You can sing, can't you?" she demanded.
"Piper," Leo said with gentle remonstrance. "Everything will be fine."
"Of course it will," Professor Machinsky remarked reassuringly. "Won't it, sweetheart?" she went on, reaching out and quite deliberately taking little Wyatt out of his over anxious mother's arms.
"We're going to give you a nice bath, read you a little story and then tuck you up for the night, aren't we honey?" she said, jigging the toddler up and down in her arms with the expertise of one who looked after children on a regular basis.
"But…" Piper began to protest, but the other woman abruptly cut off her objection.
"Young lady, I've taken care of more children than you've had hot dinners," she told the dark-haired witch in a no nonsense tone. "I'm a mother to four and a grandmother to seven - your son will be just fine."
"Thanks Laura," Leo said, steering his antsy wife towards the door with a firm hand against the small of her back.
"No problem," the witch responded warmly. "Wave goodbye to Mommy and Daddy now," she said to the small boy in her arms.
Wyatt lifted his tiny hand and obediently waved as his parents left the room. "Bye, bye," he said in his piping little voice.
The door closed behind Piper and Leo with a soft click and the toddler turned his big, blue eyes onto his babysitter. "'Iss," he said in a solemn tone.
Laura Machinsky smoothed her hand over the baby's blond curls and kissed him lightly on the forehead. "Yes," she agreed with a deep sigh. "Good Luck Chris."
OOOOOO
The Manor…
Chris was pacing and Paige felt dizzy just watching him. She exchanged an anxious look with Phoebe and then sighed. As much as she hated to admit it, there wasn't much that they could do to help right now. They could provide Chris with as much back up as possible, keep their enemy's demonic underlings out of his hair maybe. Ultimately, though, he would be facing Alcathan alone - a lone warrior against the might of the entire Underworld.
Phoebe watched her nephew's nervous pacing with a sickening ball of dread lying like lead in the pit of her stomach. When Chris had first shown up in their lives, he'd been an irritation, an interloper who had effectively stolen Leo's beloved presence from them. She was ashamed to think about the bitter resentment that had stirred within them, the blame that she and her sisters had heaped upon him when all he'd been trying to do was to save their family from a fate worse than death.
Chris had not held it against them however, but somehow that just made it worse. Now, she loved her quirky young nephew with every fibre of her being and the thought of losing him was just… No, she shook her head, pushing back those negative thoughts. Chris could do this – he had to – everything in their lives depended on his success.
A twinkling orb sound announced Piper and Leo's return from Magic School then, and each and every eye in the room immediately swung towards them.
Prue looked gravely at her sister and brother-in-law, her heart going out to them as they faced the possibility that no parent should ever have to face. Piper's face was pale, her brown eyes shadowed with unimaginable fear. Leo appeared calmer, but the tense set of his jaw and the dark expression in his blue-green eyes shouted out his underlying concern for anyone with eyes to see.
Prue hated to think what this situation must be doing to the two of them. Her own fears for her nephew's safety were nothing compared to theirs. She was just his Aunt – and a dead one at that - they were his Mom and Dad and to lose a child was the worst thing that could happen to any parent.
She knew that Piper and Leo would never forgive themselves if anything went wrong, but she also knew that they didn't really have any other choice. A risk had to be taken, a risk to save the future, to save Wyatt and, in some strange way, Chris as well. Otherwise, his quest to the past would be for nothing and he'd fought too long to fall at the final hurdle.
A strange kind of calm descended over Chris on his parent's return. The waiting had been the worst part, the tension building inside of him brick by brick until his head was verily spinning with it. Now though, now was the time to act, to do what must be done. One way or another, his long, painful journey was finally at an end.
"You ready?" Leo asked him tersely and he nodded, adjusting his grip on Excalibur and drawing on his reserves of courage as he prepared to face down the ultimate foe.
"I'm ready," he told his father assuredly.
Leo nodded somewhat curtly. "Let's do this then," he declared, reluctance clearly evident in the subtle nuances of his voice.
Piper closed her eyes, trying to starve off the threatening tears. "Please keep my son safe," she whispered to anyone who would listen.
"Please..."
OOOOOO
In the Underworld…
Something wasn't right.
An ominous kind of expectation hung heavy in the dank air around him. Something was about to happen; something unexpected, only Alcathan didn't know what it was…
"Any word?" he demanded curtly of his faithful right hand.
Nazcheck had proved his worth in recent weeks, rising through the ranks of the darklighter army with a swiftness only reserved for the most fanatical. He was cruel, delighted in torture, and was everything a good underling should be - brave, loyal and above all, the very definition of evil.
He'd taken particular exception to the fact that the Halliwell boy had duped him into believing he was a fellow darklighter recruit, and had set the trap for the young witch-whitelighter with barely concealed relish. It was an act that had earned him the ultimate promotion when it was done. The post's prior occupant had not liked the situation, of course, but Nazcheck had taken care of that little difficulty with the serrated edge of his hunting knife, and Alcathan's previous general had protested no more.
The demon did not mourn his passing. He could not have the mysterious Halliwell boy interfering with his plans. It was necessary to take steps to remove him permanently from the game. Nazcheck had been given the task of administering that chastisement and it was appropriate that he received his reward. Although Nazcheck had been the one to carry out their nefarious plan, it was Alcathan himself who had come up with the means of disposal. The poison he'd developed for the purpose was slow acting, painful and universally fatal.
It was the perfect sleight of hand. While the Charmed Ones were preoccupied trying to save their future relative, he would steal Wyatt out from under their noses and infect the child with the beginnings of an evil that would grow inside of him like a twisting vine, until it had no other option but to break free of its constraints. Then, after a centenary or more of waiting, the Ultimate Power would finally be his.
"I'm still waiting to hear, master," Nazcheck answered his earlier question in a respectful tone. "The witches have barely left the Manor in the last couple of days."
Alcathan nodded in satisfaction. "Which is good news in itself," he said. "The boy is obviously weakening and they're busy playing nursemaid."
Sounds of commotion came from the adjacent underground chamber just then, followed by a series of sharp detonations and loud shouts of alarm.
"Find out what's going on," Alcathan swiftly ordered one of his personal guards.
As the leather-garbed darklighter bounded for the door however, another soldier of lesser rank almost fell over the threshold in the opposite direction, his eyes wild with fright. "We are under attack, master!" he cried. "The witches – they've come to destroy us! We're all going to die!"
"Shut up," Alcathan snapped at the gibbering darklighter. He frowned. "How did they find me? How did they know where to look?" he asked himself.
"We have a traitor in our midst, master," Nazcheck's passionate voice rang out fervently. "He must be found and brought to justice, made an example of in front of the whole brethren."
"That is no matter right now, Nazcheck," Alcathan said somewhat irritably.
"Of course, sire," the darklighter bowed his head submissively. "Should we retreat to safety before the witches break through our defences?" he enquired.
Alcathan thought about it for a moment and then shook his head. "No, let them come," he said.
"But they vanquished the Source, wise one!" the darklighter who had informed them of the impending attack unthinkingly cried out.
Without changing expression, Alcathan conjured a blazing ball of purple fire out of thin air and hurled it with deadly accuracy at his suddenly petrified underling. The darklighter emitted a shrill shriek of agony as he caught fire and quickly burnt to a pile of ash.
"The Source was a fool!" Alcathan roared at his other cohorts. "The Charmed Ones will not find me such easy prey."
With a dramatic upsweep of his hands, he then called forth his demonic minions. "Where is Maljekk?" he demanded of the noticeably depleted group of Baphtor demons to his left.
"He, Kreegor and the others went to confront the boy, master," one of them answered. "They have not yet returned."
"What boy?"
"The Halliwell boy, sire."
Alcathan's eyes narrowed. "When was this?" he demanded.
"Yesterday, master."
"They are dead then. The boy must have found a way to destroy them. Question is how?"
"It sort of went like this," a droll voice said from behind him.
Alcathan whirled around just as a rushing upsurge of magical power ripped through the cavern like a tornado. The demons and darklighters standing in the path of that fatal energy wave exploded like firecrackers and vanished into nothingness. The deafening roar as the power traversed its destructive path set up a ringing in Alcathan's ear that blotted out all other sounds for several seconds.
"Who are you?" he demanded when the dust had finally settled.
"Me?" the witch-whitelighter in the doorway said almost conversationally. "I'm Revenge."
And with that, he raised his sword and charged at his enemy. Alcathan's demonic bodyguard immediately closed ranks to protect him, but were scattered to the far flung corners of the large cavern by the combined powers of the Charmed Ones and their resident Elder. Bottles of vanquishing potion came from every direction, hurled with deadly accuracy by Paige, Phoebe and Prue. Blasts of Piper's blowing-up power left a trail of vanquished demons in its wake, while blazing bolts of white-hot energy from Leo's outstretched hands picked off the rest.
Taking advantage of the general confusion around him, Nazcheck bolted for the raised dais and took a flying leap to land rather precariously on its rough-hewn surface. He ran on nimble feet to a hidden alcove cut deep into the rock wall, then reached inside and withdrew a huge wide-bladed sword from its dark interior. The weapon was steel grey in colour, the hilt coated in an ebony-hued mother of pearl type material and inlaid with dark green emeralds that glinted with a kind of malevolent fire.
"Master," he called, sending the sword spinning end over end towards his master's outstretched hand.
Alcathan deftly caught the weapon in his right hand and quickly moved to block Chris's charge with the flat of the huge blade. The two swords rang like a church bell as they clashed together in a shower of white sparks.
"You carry Excalibur," Alcathan stated the obvious, as the two circled each other like a couple of bloodhounds on the hunt. "Interesting feat that."
"Yeah, my older brother lent it to me," Chris responded in an offhand manner. "You may have heard of him actually – Wyatt Halliwell? I think they call him the Ultimate Power. He sends his regards by the way."
Chris was gratified to see a slight uncertainty pass over Alcathan's scarred features as the implications of his full identity hit home. Being a Halliwell was one thing – being the brother of the one prophesised to kill him was quite another. Their enemy quickly regained his composure however.
"You, I presume?" he asked, flickering a brief, questioning glance at Piper's pregnant belly.
Chris inclined his head in confirmation of that and a wintry smile touched the corners of Alcathan's lips.
"Not for much longer, I'd wager," he remarked shrewdly.
Taking the hint, Nazcheck pulled a long, pointed knife out of his clothing and cast it directly at Piper with a whip-like, overhand throw. With a sharp gasp, the Charmed One quickly flung up her hands in front of her face and froze the needle-like weapon in mid-air, stopping it just inches from her unprotected baby.
Leo's response was swift and immediate; a sizzling zigzag of pure energy burst forth from his palm and hit Nazcheck square in the chest. The darklighter was blasted off his feet by the impact, and he proceeded to jerk like a puppet on a string as Leo implacably held the lightening bolt upon him, effectively burning him alive. Finally, smoking from the ears and mouth, the would-be assassin crashed to the ground, his life a dying ember that petered out a short while later.
"And that was for my son," Leo grated from between clenched teeth.
Chris stared open-mouthed at his father, stunned by the cold-blooded ferocity with which the Elder had delivered his shocking retribution. Alcathan however, smiled a slow, chilling smile.
"You'd pit your wit against mine, Elder?" he challenged arrogantly.
Leo shook his head in the negative. "No, I came to watch my son do that," he replied. "How does the prophecy go again? Oh yeah - for the offspring of the Charmed Bride and her Groom of Light shall have the power to overcome him, to return him forever to the depths of hell from whence he came."
Alcathan actually laughed. "You poor, sad fool. You've sent your precious boy to his death. Only Wyatt has the power to destroy me and even then…" He left the statement hanging, the inference obvious.
"The thing is I am Wyatt," Chris interjected. "Or at least I have his power anyway. And, another thing, while we're on the subject, I'm starting to get just that little bit tired by everyone's automatic assumption that the prophecy is talking about Wyatt rather than me. I'm an offspring of the Charmed Bride and her Groom of Light too, you know."
"You're a child, and a dead one at that," Alcathan returned. "But no matter, if a fight is what you want, then a fight is what you're going to get. Prepare to learn a lesson in humility, boy."
With a grand, sweeping gesture, he drew a fiery nimbus around the two of them in a wide circle. The orange, sooty flames burned low to start with and then suddenly flared up into unbroken wall of fire. The flames then solidified and quickly lost their colour, leaving an impenetrable but transparent shield separating the two of them from the others. With a cry of dismay, Piper repeatedly tried to blast through the wall, but to no avail. Her power simply wasn't strong enough to break through the diamond-hard shield.
"I hope you enjoy watching your son die, witch," Alcathan proclaimed as he swung his sword around in a wide arc, aiming directly for Chris's unprotected face.
With an awkward twist of his wrist, Chris just managed to fend off the heavy blow and the swords clashed together with a steely clang. Agilely jumping backwards, the witch-whitelighter quickly readjusted his hold on Excalibur so that he was in a better position to defend himself. Alcathan's next attack came from a different source however. Conjuring an energy ball in his free hand, he hurled it at his opponent with a smooth, underarm cast, his aim unerring and deadly.
As Chris dove to one side to avoid the fiery weapon, the ball caught the edge of his athame wound with a glancing blow and pain like a thousand needles ricocheted throughout his body as a result. With an agonised cry, he stumbled and fell, clutching at his stomach as the pain blossomed to an excruciating crescendo.
"CHRIS!"
He couldn't tell who had screamed out his name, but it pulled him out of the mind-bending agony nevertheless. Rolling over onto his front, he scrambled back to his feet and raised Excalibur once more. The evil bastard was not going to beat him, not ever. He hadn't come this far to die like this. Whatever happened from here on in, he would fight with everything he had until the bitter end.
Setting his teeth, he rushed determinedly at his enemy; his sword held aloft and anger burning like fire in his veins. Nobody hurt his family and got away with it. Nobody…
OOOOOO
Magic School…
Professor Laura Machinsky closed her book with a deep sigh, then yawned and stretched, working out the kinks in her tired muscles. Pulling her robe more tightly around her, she padded from the living quarters towards the bedroom, stopping in to check on Wyatt in the adjoining nursery along the way.
The baby's cot was tucked away in the far corner of the darkened room, and although she could see the heap of blue bedclothes covering the little boy, she couldn't see Wyatt himself. Crossing to the cot, she peered over the side and her heart froze inside of her chest. The cot was empty.
After a moment of shocked inaction, she hurried into the other room and sounded the alarm…
OOOOOO
Back in the Underworld…
Chris was struggling. It didn't matter how hard he fought, he could feel the poison in his veins slowly leeching out his remaining strength. His arms felt heavy. Excalibur was a ten-ton weight in his hand, and the edges of his vision were starting to blur grey.
It was a patch of uneven ground near the dais that finally betrayed him. His feet went out from under him as he stumbled over the loose stones. Toppling backwards, he crashed to the ground with a resounding thud, losing his grip on Excalibur in the process. The weapon skittered across the floor and came to a stop a few metres away, well out of reach. As Chris rolled over to retrieve it, he was forestalled by a crushing weight against his chest.
Seizing on his advantage, Alcathan had brought his foot down on his opponent's torso with the might of a several ton elephant. He set the tip of his sword against the boy's throat, an exultant gleam in his dark eyes. "Nice try," he said in his dusty voice, "But not quite good enough, I'm afraid."
Ignoring the demon's taunts, Chris tried desperately to orb Excalibur towards him but to no avail. The one power of his brother's that he hadn't been able to master was the one thing that he needed to survive. A single tear ran down his cheek as he surrendered to his inevitable fate.
Sensing this, Alcathan threw back his head and laughed in cold triumph, and Chris felt a sharp sting of pain as the demon's sword cut into the soft flesh of his throat. A warm trickle of blood ran down over his Adam's apple, but he soon realised that Alcathan was toying with him. The wound was not mortal. He would not be allowed to die quietly. The demon was an expert in torture, both physical and mental. Death would be bitter and agonising, not quick and sweet.
A faint whisper of a breeze brushed lightly against his cheek then, and Chris blinked as he saw a flare of blue light in the corner of his vision. Turning his head slightly, he could just make out the small figure standing in the shadows just off to his right, and, amazingly, also inside Alcathan's protective wall. Nobody else seemed to have noticed the new arrival and Chris's heart leapt inside his chest, a blind hope filling him at the sight of his brother.
How the little boy had managed to orb himself down here without his power was something of a mystery, but a serene kind of calm came over Chris as he met Wyatt's steady gaze. There was a hint of a suggestion lurking in the depths of those familiar blue eyes, and Chris found, to his surprise, that he understood exactly what his sibling was trying to tell him. He looked at Excalibur lying a few feet away, back at Wyatt and then made his decision, the words of the spell tumbling forth from his lips in a huge rush.
"I offer up my gift to share,
Through space and time if you dare.
What's mine is yours, what's yours is mine,
Switch our powers through the air…"
OOOOOO
The Original Future…
Wyatt jerked awake with a sharp intake of breath, not sure what had awoken him but knowing that something wasn't right. He struggled to a sitting position, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the darkness around him. He could hear the faint sound of water from nearby and he frowned. Was he near the sea?
"Welcome back son."
He twisted his head and squinted in the direction of the dark shadow that was moving towards him. There was the sound of a match striking and then a burst of yellow light illuminated his surroundings. He was in a cave, not an underground one though, for he could smell the salt of the sea and see a pinprick of sunlight in the distance. Corals and water plants grew all around him and a sparkling rock pool nearby shimmered green in the light of the flickering candle.
"Dad?" he asked in confusion. "Where…?"
"Home," Leo succinctly replied. "I'm so sorry."
The Elder's tone was anguished and guilt burned strongly in his weary blue-green eyes.
"I… I don't understand," Wyatt stuttered.
"I didn't think you'd change back," Leo explained.
"Change back?"
Wyatt's eyes widened as it all crashed in on him. He looked down at his clothes – blue jeans and red sweat-top, no black in sight. His fingers sought out his hair, cropped close, no longer unruly and straggly.
"I…" He searched deep within himself, reaching out and finding the corner of his soul that was still as black as midnight.
"I haven't," he said, sure now. "At least not completely, the evil is still there. The good part is more in control right now though, whereas before it was the other way round. There's still the possibility for that to change again however."
He looked at his father with compassion and understanding in his blue eyes. "There's nothing to be sorry for," he said. "You did the right thing."
Leo nodded, letting out a sigh of relief. He'd never have forgiven himself if he'd denied his son a second chance at life when it wasn't absolutely necessary. Reaching out, he pulled his boy into a hug, tears spilling down his cheeks in a wave of sudden grief.
"I've missed you so much."
Wyatt felt his own tears burn at the back of his eyes and then something suddenly occurred to him. "Oh my god, Chris!" he gasped, jerking away from his father in horror.
"What? What is it?" Leo demanded urgently.
Wyatt opened his mouth to reply but then suddenly doubled over, falling to his knees as his insides seemed to ripple and surge like a geyser about to spout. A whirling stream of blue stars left his body in a rush and he heard the faint echo of his brother's voice from far away….
"I offer up my gift to share,
Through space and time if you dare.
What's mine is yours, what's yours is mine,
Switch our powers through the air…"
"Chris," he murmured just before the world turned black…
OOOOOO
Alcathan's Underworld headquarters, back in the present…
As Wyatt's power left Chris's body in a torrent of blue stars, his own power travelled back through space and time and returned to its rightful place. It was like putting on a pair of comfortable old sneakers, he discovered. His brother's power had always thrown him slightly off balance, but he was himself again now.
A renewed sense of purpose filled him, the despair of a few moments ago forgotten. Momentarily stymied by the effects of the power-switching spell, Alcathan had drawn back slightly, opening himself up to attack and Chris seized upon his advantage with characteristic tenaciousness.
In the end, it was so easy. As little Wyatt orbed the sword into his outstretched hand, Chris telekinetically pulled Excalibur towards him, and their two powers melded into one, surging up the sword's blade as his fingers closed firmly around the hilt. With a rapid, upward swing of his arm, he plunged the sword into the astonished Alcathan's chest, a loud cry of effort escaping his lips as he delivered that final and fatal blow.
His aim was true. The blade slid cleanly through the demon's ribs and directly into his heart before emerging to protrude gruesomely from between his shoulder blades, its metal surface smeared with dark red blood. Doubling over, Alcathan gurgled horribly as a fountain of liquid shot forth from his mouth as his skewered heart faltered.
Temporarily letting go of Excalibur, Chris quickly rolled out of the way of that scarlet spray and scrambled to his feet in one smooth move. Lunging forward again, he took hold of the sword once more and yanked it free with a powerful twist of his wrist. Alcathan's dying shriek echoed off the dark stonewalls in a rising crescendo until he finally sank to the floor and crumbled to dust. The stunned silence that followed his fall was mind-blowingly absolute.
Although Alcathan's magical shield had vanished with his death, it was a few moments before Piper could galvanise herself into action. She'd just been on a rollercoaster ride to hell and back. When the demon had held his sword to her son's throat, her heart had stopped beating inside her chest. Then Wyatt had stepped out from behind a cluster of rocks and her terror was suddenly two-fold. The rest of the events had passed in a confused blur and it took her some time to register that it was finally over. They had won – Alcathan was dead, her children were safe.
"Sweetie, what are you doing here?" she exclaimed, sweeping up her baby boy into her arms and kissing his soft cheek.
"'Iss," Wyatt told her sadly, his blue eyes full of an emotion that she did not fully understand.
"Yes, I know but…"
Wyatt stopped her in her tracks by tugging urgently on her long, dark hair. "'Iss!" he said insistently, pointing at his brother with his little forefinger.
Piper slowly turned to look at Chris and gasped in alarm. He looked like a walking corpse; there was no other way to describe his pasty-white skin, the blue-black bruises under his eyes and the dead expression on his blank face. Then, as she watched in growing horror, Excalibur slipped with a clatter from his suddenly nerveless fingers, his eyes rolled grotesquely back into his head, and he collapsed to the floor with a dull thud, an awful, ghastly sound that reverberated around the underground cavern like the lid of a coffin slamming irrevocably shut.
"Chris," she whispered as a horrible realisation dawned. "No, my baby…"
To be continued…
A/N2: Yes, I know that was a very evil cliff-hanger but it had to be done. I had to wring every last drop of drama out of this action-packed chapter, didn't I? ;-)
So, until next time then...
CharmedBec x