Once again it's quite possibly been forever and a day since I last updated... so, yet again, sorry about that! Anyway, this is quite a sad chapter. Just so you're warned. Please don't hate me for it...

Thanks for still reading this!

Chapter 28

Thomas Martins had once thought he was a brave man. Serving in the United States army for twenty years, meant he was no stranger to fighting. This, however, was something altogether different. The burly middle-aged man could only stand, frozen in sheer terror, and stare at the unrelenting tide of ... things that were coming towards the front line.

Not five minutes earlier the strange 'magical' barriers that had surrounded San Francisco ever since the dictator 'witch' had taken over, had vanished without a sound, leaving nothing but a faint tang of electricity in the air. It had happened so suddenly, so silently that it had taken a brief moment of incredulous disbelief before the men serving as look-outs even so much as realised what had happened.

It took an even briefer moment before they remembered what had happened last time the barriers came down.

The creatures... the demons. Advancing on foot, unarmed by human means, but many, many times more deadly than any weapon the forces of the US could bring to bear.

Top brass were still unsure as to how the previous battle had ended. They had tentatively labelled it as a win, but the niggling thought was in everyone's minds that if the apparent resistance force within the city hadn't launched their own counter-attack, then things would have gone much worse.

Much, much worse.

And, now, it seemed like those thoughts were about to be realised. The army of demons was marching forward, uninterrupted, and would soon reach the front line of hastily assembled soldiers. Martins raised his gun, careful of his shaking hands, and sought a demon in the cross-hairs.

The second battle for California was about to begin.

---

The battle for Sanctuary, however, was still continuing.

Sanctuary was currently a confusing whirlwind of noise and moving bodies. The fight had lost all semblance of order and was now simply an outright melee. Chris had no idea if they were winning or losing and, more worryingly to him, he had no idea where his younger cousin was.

Chris blasted a demon about to launch an energy ball at him, and then turned his face away as the dark ash blew over him. Wiping away a streak of blood trickling down his face he sought out his next opponent and managed to sink his athame deep into the heart of another demon.

A familiar voice then rose above the chaotic sounds of fighting: "We're winning!" Darryl shouted, "Keep fighting, we're nearly there!"

A ragged cheer sounded throughout the chamber and Chris felt a grin stretch his face. There was no time for early celebrations though: demons were still attacking and Resistance members were still falling.

Chris headed over to where Darryl's voice had come from and found his friend battling two demons. Darryl was throwing a barrage of potions at them and attempting to strike death blows with his athame, but was clearly weakening. Chris rushed up to help and between the two of them the tables were turned. In moments both demons were nothing but clouds of ash floating to the ground.

Darryl clapped Chris on the shoulder in thanks and leant down to shout in his ear, "There's less and less demons left now. We really are beating them!"

Chris nodded, "Good!" he shouted back.

Seeing a brute demon, not five feet in front of him, about to deliver a fatal blow to another Resistance member Chris leapt forward and attempted to blast the now ducking and weaving demon.

He eventually managed the feat and was checking on the woman he'd saved when suddenly the dynamics of the battlefield changed.

The demons were the ones cheering now, and Chris lifted his head to see Darryl's horrified gaze looking at something over his shoulder. Chris spun round in dread and felt his heart sink. The battle wasn't nearly over yet.

---

All he could see was red. That was the thought running through Thomas Martins' mind. Not the red of anger, the red that blurred thought processes until all you knew was the lust for war and destruction. No, it was the red of blood. The red of dying.

Thomas Martins knew he was dying.

Blood was running down his face and covering his eyes in a film of red.

He could barely make out screams of terror and hoarse shouts of pain from his fellow soldiers. Could barely feel the ground vibrating beneath his prone figure, could barely feel the gun which was held loosely in numb fingers.

But one thought was running through his mind clearly. They had lost. Or, at least, they were losing with little hope of a comeback. Guns were no match for... whatever those things were.

California was under enemy control.

Martins managed to take in a shaky breath, tasting the metallic tang of the blood pooling in his mouth and his hearing sharpened as footsteps drew near.

The battle had moved on from the area he was lying in, there was nothing now but the bodies of the dead and the dying. Yet it was here that the footsteps of what sounded like two people were approaching.

Martins listened, unable to move his twisted limbs.

"We are winning, M'Lord" growled a guttural, scratchy voice

"Excellent." hissed the other, a voice Martins realised in shock belonged to Wyatt Halliwell.

"California will be yours shortly," the first voice continued, "We have spread out and are holding the borders. Your soldiers have surrounded and are destroying any humans still fighting."

"And Sanctuary?" enquired Wyatt, a hint of anticipation in his voice.

There was a brief pause, "M'Lord, the reports suggest the battle is still ongoing."

A snarl cut the air, "Ongoing? How is that possible, they should be obliterated by now!" Martins could hear the pure anger in Wyatt's tone.

"Never mind." Wyatt cut his lieutenant off, "The battle here is all but won, I'll head over to Sanctuary and finish the rebellious traitors off myself. Chris isn't going to win again."

"Yes M'Lord." muttered the reply.

There was a strange sound then, that Martins heard, a faint tinkling of bells. A bright light pushed through the haze of red before vanishing as suddenly as it had appeared. Only one set of footsteps continued on and Martins' wondered what had happened to the other.

But he only wondered briefly.

The red was darker than ever and his hearing was fading. The taste of blood was getting stronger and Martin's knew he was about to die. He could feel pain now, rising and rising until he wanted to scream out loud. The fade to black was a relief.

---

"Wyatt." spat Chris, as his eyes landed on his brother standing almost casually in the middle of the battle at Sanctuary.

"The battle for California is over!" shouted the twice-blessed, "It is in my hands now, give up fighting me now and I may be lenient."

"What?" gasped Chris in horror, just as Darryl let out an equally shocked "No!"

"He's attacked the rest of California." Chris whispered anger and fear leaking through in equal amounts.

"He could be lying." Darryl muttered, but it was a wild hope that neither man really believed.

Chris shook his head, "This battle is as much a distraction as anything else." he hazarded a guess.

"Do you surrender?" Wyatt called out.

"No!" chorused Chris and Darryl. And the sentiment was echoed throughout the chamber. All around the resistance fighters were shaking their heads and tightening their hands around their weapons.

Wyatt let out a bitter laugh, "Very well then. Die!" His final proclamation rang out around the chamber and almost as suddenly as it had begun the brief respite was over.

The chamber was rapidly filled with desperate fighting again, although this time it seemed that the demons were gaining the upper hand.

Chris was split from Wyatt by a seething mass of grappling figures and even as he attempted to fight his way through each individual battle was slowing him down.

Chris was nearing where his brother stood and fought when he heard it: a high pitched voice rising above the hoarse grunts and snarls.

"How could you!" It was Prue's voice, Chris realised with a jolt. And she was shouting at Wyatt. Chris redoubled his efforts to get through, and he noticed Darryl close behind him.

Chris carelessly blew up a demon in his way and his coarse shouts of pain before death covered up Wyatt and Prue's conversation. By the time the noise died down Prue was sending blasts of telekinesis at her elder cousin, while Wyatt easily deflected them using Excalibur as a shield.

"Is that the best you can do?" Wyatt taunted Prue, "Come on, Prue. Stop fighting me and join me."

"Never!" the teen shouted, angrily pushing another pulse of telekinesis which was again deflected by the shining steel of Excalibur.

"I'm not playing games here, Prudence. " Wyatt spat, "Either join me now or die like the rest of these worthless traitors here."

Prue drew herself up straight, "You'll have to kill me then." she sneered.

"If you insist." Wyatt retorted coolly.

Suddenly Prue desperately flung herself to the ground as a gleaming metal blade sliced through the air towards her. Chris was close enough to see the shock on his cousin's face as she pulled herself up of the ground. But he was still too far away, separated by far too many fighting bodies, to offer any help.

Chris shouted in frustration, killing two demons in his way almost instantaneously, with Darryl taking out a third. They were closer yet, but still not close enough.

"Why?" Prue choked out, sudden fear almost overpowering her anger.

A malicious curve twisted Wyatt's lips, "You chose to die rather than join me, Prue. I am merely allowing you the benefit of choice."

Prue desperately sent successive pulses of telekinesis at Wyatt as he stalked closer, deflecting each and every blast.

"Sorry Prudence, but I only have so much patience."

Chris and Darryl broke through the crowd as the sleek blade of Excalibur rose high into the air and began a sharp descent towards the girl.

"No!" Chris shouted, feeling equal amounts of shock and utter helplessness as he realised he was still too far away to interfere.

Despite this, he sent his own pulse of telekinesis at his brother. Wyatt smoothly stepped forward, following the path of Excalibur and avoiding the blast.

"Prue!" The next voice to call out surprised everyone there.

"Sheila!" Darryl almost screamed as he saw his wife sprint forward towards Wyatt and Prue, much, much closer than the two men were.

The unforgiving steel of Excalibur jerked forwards in a decisive movement easily piercing flesh and spilling ruby red blood onto the ground.

Wyatt's eyes opened wide with an emotion Chris couldn't quite determine as the body before him slumped to their knees.

Prue screamed as Wyatt drew the blade back, slick with blood.

Chris and Darryl froze in horror at the scene before them. Darryl let out a choked moan, "No, no, no, no..." desperation and disbelief twisting the man's voice into a mockery of his own.

Chris felt his heart jerk with pain and his dismayed stare took in the scene in front of him.

Sheila lay crumpled on the ground. Her blood spreading out in a pool around her. Blood from the wound in her stomach. The wound made by Excalibur, the blade cutting deep as she flung herself in front of Prue. To save the girl she thought of as a daughter.

"No..." the word was torn from Chris' burning throat. "No!"