Chapter Eight: In the Aftermath of Hell

She felt his absence immediately. It was a feeling that existed on an instinctual level, one that she couldn't put into words. It hit her hard, taking her breath away and leaving her dizzy and scared. It shouldn't have been possible – they were no longer married and any connection that had existed was all but gone now, replaced by his becoming an Elder – but she still felt that tenuous connection shatter and then fade.

Standing in the attic, gasping for breath as tears burned in her eyes, Piper clutched at the Book's podium to keep herself upright and tried her best to rationalize away the grief and fear forming a hard ball in the pit of her stomach.

Leo was gone.

The world came back into focus slowly. The first sense he regained was that of touch. He could feel the cold, hard ground beneath him, could feel the way he was sprawled at awkward angles along the cavern floor. Next came smell – mold and mildew – followed by hearing – footsteps treading softly on the ground. Taste came almost immediately after sound; the bitter metallic of blood in his mouth indicating that he must have bitten his tongue.

He opened his eyes, and the world exploded in light and color. He slammed his lids shut almost immediately, forcing out the brightness.

"Careful," a voice whispered in his ear, and he felt the warmth of breath exhaling onto the side of his face. "Give your body some time to adjust."

He tried to reach up with one hand, tried to grab at the thing that was talking to him. But his limbs felt leaden, too heavy to be moved.

He groaned.

Everything hurt. It was an ache that was far more than just physical. It seeped through his flesh and blood and bones and into his heart, into his soul. It weighed down on him, crushing in its intensity. It him filled with a helplessness, a hopelessness, even as he struggled against it.

"Gently, Christopher," the voice said again, a slight chiding in its tone. "Don't strain yourself."

He knew instinctively that the voice belonged to someone he could not trust, but despite that, he also knew it was giving very good advice. He couldn't move his body. He could wiggle his fingers just a little bit, but anything beyond that was too much for him, and every effort he made was met with failure and even more weariness.

He focused instead on breathing. That hurt as well, but was at least a doable task.

With his eyes closed, his other senses were overcompensating. The smell of mildew invaded his nostrils, and every movement made by the mysterious stranger watching over him echoed loudly in his ears. He felt something, like a ripple of power in the air. It washed over him, tingling against his skin, and then the scent of mildew was intermingled with a hint of vanilla and cinnamon. A voice – feminine and alluring – asked, "Is he awake?"

"Almost," replied the first voice.

The feminine voice, combined with the smell of that particular perfume, meant something to him if only he could figure out what it was. But it hovered around the edges of his consciousness, never coming quite close enough for him to grasp it. He reached out with his mind, searching desperately for answers, but slammed up against nothingness and pain.

It hurt to think.

He tried opening his eyes again. He squinted, and the bright light assailed him, scorching. It hurt, but the pain and the brightness seemed more bearable now than it had been before.

There was something fuzzy above him. An indistinct shadow surrounded by a blaze of brilliant white light.

"He's seeing you," the feminine voice said again, and light footsteps on the ground indicated that the voice was coming closer, drifting towards him. "You as you really are. Not… not the face you show the world, but the light behind it. That is why it hurts him to open his eyes."

He closed his eyes against the light and tried instead to focus on the words. He pushed past the sharp pain in his head, pushed past the agony that was threatening to overwhelm him, to pull him back into oblivion. What did those words mean? The answers were there, clearly. He just needed to think. Where was he, and who were these people standing over him, speaking as though they knew all about him?

That voice. It was captivating and appealing and so familiar.

And dangerous.

The name came to him, a single word floating in the blankness of his mind. It didn't mean much, didn't clarify the situation, but at least he knew something now. At least he knew her name.

Lola.

He whispered it aloud, and amused laughter rang in his ears.

"You remember me, white-lighter," the feminine voice said. "And after several weeks of belonging to the devil… I am flattered."

Everything hit him suddenly, slamming into his chest and taking away all breath. Memories exploded behind his closed eyes. The bright white light that had burned his eyes made sense now, in an odd and worrisome way.

"Lucifer," he muttered, "light-bringing. Morning star."

He opened his eyes and willed himself not to see the light that surrounded the devil. He looked past it, or maybe through it, ignoring the truth of the devil and focusing instead on the face the fallen angel wore. The light dimmed until it no longer blinded him, and he was able to see the cave around him, the red-haired sorceress standing a few feet away with an amused expression on her face, and the blue-eyed devil crouched at his side, smiling.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Christopher."

"What do you mean? How is Leo gone?" Paige demanded, pacing restlessly back and forth across the floor of the sunroom. Phoebe was perched on the edge of the white wicker chair, rubbing at her temples. Piper was sitting on the loveseat, her expression dark and worried.

Light streamed in through the glass in the French windows, illuminating the scene of tension and fear.

"He's gone," Piper repeated. "He just…I felt it. I felt him. He was there and then… then he wasn't."

She couldn't explain it any better than that. She had no idea why the connection was still so strong, given that she and Leo were no longer together. She had no idea why there had been a connection in the first place. She didn't have white-lighter powers the way Leo, Paige, Wyatt, and even Chris did. She couldn't sense people.

But Leo wasn't people. He was Leo.

"Do you think… the Elders…?" Paige suggested apprehensively, pausing in her pacing long enough to give Piper a searching look.

Piper's expression darkened further, worry replaced with anger. Leo had not been in the good graces of the insufferably hypocritical Elders since he had killed Gideon, and his continual pursuit of the devil these past few days had only made things worse. Would the Elders have retaliated? Would they have finally made good on their threat to eliminate Leo?

Could they have recycled him?

"I don't know," Piper said, her teeth clenched tightly. "But it wouldn't surprise me if they did. After Gideon… nothing they do could surprise me."

"How do we find out?" Paige asked.

Phoebe glanced uneasily between Piper and Paige, then met Piper's wrathful look and said, "We could always ask them."

"How am I… why am I… what did you do?" Chris stammered, pulling away from the devil. He tried to surge to his feet, adrenaline rushing through his body, but only made it about halfway before his strength gave out and he fell to his hands and knees. His head was pounding, a dull ache that grew more and more intense with every passing second.

Lucifer smiled.

It was a very chilling smile.

"I released your soul and replaced it in your body," he answered matter-of-factly.

He was still crouched down in front of Chris, and his blue eyes were focused intently on the young Halliwell. The smile faltered for a moment as a frown creased his brow, but then his expression smoothed over once more. He rose to his feet and folded his arms over his chest, the smug smile slipping back into place.

Chris closed his eyes and fought back a wave of nausea. There was a sensation in his chest - something cold and tight. His mind felt fuzzy. He was sure that what Lucifer had said was fairly straightforward, but he simply couldn't make sense of it. He was wobbling, shaking on his hands and knees, and try as he might, he couldn't seem to steady himself.

It was as though the ground was moving beneath him, though he was fairly certain that was not the case.

"Easy," Lola murmured, coming to his side. She wrapped her fingers softly around his shoulder and eased him into a more comfortable sitting position. "Your body is still adjusting. Try not to make any sudden movements."

A few strands of Lola's hair fell across his cheek, tickling his skin, and Chris inhaled the scent of vanilla. Her free hand was now rubbing soothing circles on his back and his traitorous body leaned towards her even as his mind pushed through its hazy stupor and screamed at him that she couldn't be trusted.

"Just rest," Lola continued softly, her honeyed words slipping past his defenses. "You've earned a break. You've earned a chance to take it easy."

And he had earned it. He'd given everything – his fiancée, his life, his very soul – to save the world. He'd given away the last things left that mattered to him in the almost impossible hope that the future could be changed. He had nothing left to give, and it would have been so easy to drift off into slumber and let someone else deal with the consequences of whatever had just happened.

Because there would be consequences. There was no way that Lucifer had released his soul without gaining something in return. There had to be a catch, had to be a price.

There always was.

He forced his eyes open and pushed himself away from Lola. She held his arm for a moment, and he caught a glimpse of bemusement sparkling in her eyes before she pursed cherry-red lips together and let him go.

He turned to Lucifer and met the devil's blue eyes.

"Wyatt?"

Lucifer raised his eyebrows, then said, "I did not undo the deal we made, Christopher. Gideon has been eliminated."

"And yet I am here," Chris said quietly, looking around. For the first time, he truly took stock of his surroundings. The cave was damp and dark and so very unlike all the other places he had met with either Lola or Lucifer. This cave was a more traditional haunt in the Underworld, and it was exactly the sort of place that the magical community imagined when they thought of the demonic world.

The air was cold. He could feel the cold against his skin, cold feel it creeping underneath his skin.

He was alive and his soul was his again.

So how could Wyatt be safe?

Or was this all some ruse? Was Wyatt still in danger from some other source, someone besides the wayward Elder? Was Lucifer going after the Twice Blessed now?

His chest constricted painfully at that thought, and his vision narrowed to two tiny pinpricks of light in a sea of vague darkness. The blood pounded in his ears and he swayed uneasily, feeling suddenly dizzy. He took a few stumbling steps backwards until he could rest his hand against the hard stone wall, but even that offered little support.

He could barely remain on his feet.

"You need to breathe," Lola whispered, and he started, surprised to find that she was standing right next to him again. He hadn't heard her move, hadn't seen her approach. But she was suddenly there, one hand resting lightly on his arm. "Breathe, Chris. Calm down. You need to breathe."

He couldn't trust her, but he followed her instructions anyway and focused on sucking in large amounts of much needed oxygen.

The constriction in his chest loosened slightly.

He hadn't even realized he'd been hyperventilating.

"Wyatt Halliwell is safe," Lucifer said calmly. "The other Elders will not target him. I have no plans for him. I assure you, Christopher, the boy is safe. You're panic on his behalf is premature. Though I suppose commendable, from a mortal and Good point of view."

Chris flushed darkly, embarrassed and more than a little worried. The years he had spent in the dark future, fighting friends and family and himself, had taught him the importance of one tactic above all else – never show weakness to the enemy. It had helped him through many ordeals, saved his life on many occasions, and it had been so ingrained into his very psyche that he'd often had trouble showing weakness to allies as well.

And despite all that, he'd just suffered through the beginnings of a panic attack in front of Lucifer.

There was no doubt in his mind that – whatever Lucifer had done for him – the devil was still the enemy.

"There is no reason to be so embarrassed, white-lighter," Lola said with a light laugh. "You are allowed to experience some emotional struggles before feeling fully yourself again. You have spent quite a while in Lucifer's possession, after all."

Chris' mind latched onto that thought. "How long?" he asked.

"About a month," Lucifer answered.

Chris nodded and tried to organize his thoughts. The devil couldn't lie, which meant that Wyatt was safe and apparently did not play any further role in this mess. But Lucifer had kept Chris' soul for an entire month before releasing it. So why now? What had happened to convince the devil to free him?

And if Chris wasn't paying the price for Wyatt's safety, then who was?

"I can assure you, Piper Halliwell, that the Elders had nothing to do with Leo's disappearance. We are just as baffled… and concerned… as you are."

Piper snorted disbelievingly. The Elder who had answered her calls – Zola, she believed his name was – might act as though he cared about Leo, but she sincerely doubted that her ex-husband's disappearance bothered the Elders as much as they said it did.

Or, more accurately, it bothered them, but not because they feared for Leo. Rather, they were afraid for themselves. An attack on an Elder was a reminder of the Titans, of what they had nearly lost less than a year ago.

She pressed her lips into a thin line and surveyed Zola. "You'll have to forgive me if I don't take everything you say at face value," she said coolly.

Zola sighed and shook his head. His tone was filled with remorse and just a little bit of censure as he replied, "One bad Elder does not make us all evil. We are not the enemy, and it would be in your best interest to remember that."

Paige laughed bitterly, and her words echoed Piper's thoughts, "Gideon tried to murder an innocent child, and had no qualms about killing us, Leo, or Chris to get what he wanted. He excused his actions by saying that what he was doing was for the greater good. Why should we believe that all you other Elders aren't tainted with the same misguided beliefs? Why should we believe that you don't consider yourself above such frivolous things as right and wrong?"

Zola turned his gaze to her. "You three have had evil in your family," he answered gravely, "in both the past and, it seems, in the future. You three have even committed crimes in your own past lives. Does that make you evil now? Should we give up on you?"

Piper's hands twitched and she wanted nothing more than to blow up the sanctimonious bastard. But although she didn't like him, she also didn't think he was lying.

Which meant the Elders were not responsible for Leo's disappearance.

Chris straightened his shoulders and willed away the emotional and physical exhaustion he felt. He lifted his chin in a defiant gesture and asked the devil pointedly, "You released me. What did you get in return?" His voice was still hoarse and his throat was still raw and everything still hurt, but he was determined to focus on this detail, to learn the truth.

Who had paid the price for his freedom?

Lucifer shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"Of course it matters!" Chris snapped, adrenaline coursing through his body. But even the rush of adrenaline resulting from his own anger and fear wasn't enough to combat the weariness that was continually pressing down on him. His fingers grappled for purchase on the slippery wall as he fought to stay standing.

He would not show weakness. Not now. Not again.

"I am not going to let…"

"Let?" Lucifer interrupted, repeating the words with a soft chuckle. "You're not going to let?" He tilted his head to the side slightly and regarded Chris with amusement. "You have no say in this, Christopher. Like your mother before you, you seem completely unable to comprehend that some things are simply beyond your control. You do not always have a say in how things happen. Don't allow yourself to believe that your little time travel stunt makes you powerful enough to change every aspect of the future you do not like."

At the mention of his mother, Chris' heart leapt into his throat. It took him a moment to compel his voice to work, and then he asked in a tone of barely restrained fear, "Piper… did she…?"

He wasn't even sure what it was he was asking. He wasn't sure why he was suddenly so afraid for her, for her safety, for her life. Surely she hadn't done anything that would put her in danger… right?

"Piper did nothing," Lucifer replied. "She tried, of course." His gaze swept over Chris one last time before he turned away from the young Halliwell. "Mothers always try so hard to help their children. Even when they can't."

"She knows," Chris murmured. It wasn't a question, and neither Lucifer nor Lola answered. Chris closed his eyes, unsure how to feel about this bit of information. The plan had always revolved around the Charmed Ones not finding out who he really was. It had been such an integral part of his strategy, in fact, that he and Bianca had never really discussed what he should do if he failed to keep his secret.

The stakes had been so high, and he'd been so determined not to fail.

And now Piper knew the truth.

He wondered vaguely how she had figured it out. What clues had she seen, what pieces of the puzzle had she fit together? Had Lucifer helped her along, leading her to this revelation, or had it been something she'd figured out all on her own?

And how had she reacted when she learned of his identity?

"But no matter how much she tried," Lucifer continued quietly, "she was not able to succeed. It has been such a… trying… time for her."

Chris ran a hand through his hair and lowered his gaze. He didn't know what to say, didn't know how to make this better for her. Didn't know if he cared enough to make this better for her. This version of Piper was not his mother and he couldn't relate to her. He didn't know her, didn't understand her, and even in those moments when the lines blurred and she reminded him so much of Mom… it still wasn't the same.

She still wasn't Mom.

Except, of course, that she was. Or would be.

It was all so complicated and thinking about it just made his head hurt. The tumult of emotions that bombarded him at the very thought of Piper learning the truth left him breathless. But he couldn't afford to let his emotions show. He couldn't afford that weakness.

Not again.

Still… Lola had been right; he had earned a break. And it would have been all so easy to just let go, let someone else deal with the problem.

It would have been so easy to just stop, relax, take a break. He had saved the future, after all. He protected everyone from the horrors that would be inflicted upon them in a world ruled by demons and an amoral Wyatt. He had done his part, finished his mission. Why did he have to keep fighting?

Why did this have to be his problem?

But, of course, the answer to that was obvious.

He was a Halliwell.

It was always his problem.

"I think," Lucifer said after a moment of silence, "that it is time for me to leave. I've completed my task."

"Wait!" Chris demanded before Lucifer had the chance to leave. He opened his mouth, determined to ask one more time why he had been released. But though his mind knew that, logically, that question was very important, his heart was more interested in other things. The words stuck in his throat and instead he choked out a single name, "Wyatt…?"

"As I have said, I did not undo our deal, Christopher," Lucifer said, a hint of impatience creeping into his tone. "You may be free now, but that does not affect the agreement we had before. Gideon is dead, the threat has been eliminated. Your mission was a success."

Then he was gone.

"If the Elders aren't responsible… if they don't know anything…" Phoebe frowned, sinking onto the sofa and staring around the attic, "who has the power to make an Elder disappear?"

Piper stood in front of the Book, flipping through the pages. She'd been doing that since the moment Zola had orbed away, and it had not provided any answers.

Yet.

She wasn't willing to give up.

"Lucifer?" Paige suggested warily.

"Lucifer can't kill us," Piper replied. "Remember? Leo said that the devil's active powers were limited. It's not like he has energy balls or molecular combustion…"

"Neither of those would have killed Leo anyway," Phoebe added. "A dark-lighter arrow, though…"

"No!" Piper interjected as Phoebe trailed off uneasily. She shook her head once, a sharp movement that made the muscles in her neck strain. "No," she said again, more quietly. Leo wasn't dead. She refused to believe that, to believe that he was gone.

She looked away from both of her sisters. There was a sharp, stabbing pain in her chest every time she even considered the idea that anything could have happened to Leo.

Damn it, they were separated, she wasn't supposed to care about him this much!

"Okay," Phoebe said gently, her tone almost apologetic, "but you said that Leo is gone. So if he's not… if he's not dead… then what… happened? Why is he gone?"

Piper pursed her lips and didn't answer. She didn't have an answer. She wanted desperately to be able to explain this feeling, this giant hole in her heart. She wanted to have an answer that was logical and rational and didn't hurt this much.

But she didn't have any of that. She just had a feeling of emptiness, of incompleteness. As though a large part of her was quite suddenly simply missing.

"You know, I like this version of you quite a bit better," Lola remarked casually, sidling up to Chris and trailing her fingers over his chest. "You were so intolerant of everything before. So single-mindedly focused on your mission. Now… now you are showing emotions other than irritation and impatience. That hint of vulnerability… it makes you so much more… human."

Chris turned towards her. "What do you know about being human?" he demanded.

She laughed. "I know it hurts."

He couldn't deny that. The pain that had assailed him upon first waking had faded during the conversation as he managed to focus all his attention on Lucifer and the mystery now before him. But that conversation was over, and the feelings were back. They were slamming down on him, smothering him, invading and overwhelming every part of his body until he could think of nothing but how much he wanted this all to just end.

Lola traced her fingers in a circle over his heart. "And you wonder why demons have no desire to be human," she murmured lightly.

The scent of vanilla and cinnamon lingered in the air.

He swatted her hand away. Lola was an enemy, too. And he had no intention of forgetting that.

"If Lucifer won't tell me why I was released," he said expectantly, "maybe you can shed some light on the matter."

Lola sighed and shook her head in disappointment. "And now you're back to business," she said. "Such a pity." She stepped back from him. "And no, white-lighter, I don't think I can shed any light on this matter. But perhaps it would be best for you to listen to Lucifer. Just let it go."

"I can't," he said flatly.

Lola turned her back on him and walked towards the center of the cave. "It won't help, you know," she murmured.

"What won't help?"

"Jumping into a new mission, a new mystery," Lola replied, glancing at him over her shoulder. "Those emotions bubbling inside of you, that pain that keeps lingering, the dull ache in your head and your chest that is only partially physical… it won't go away. You can focus all you want on everything else, but you can't outrun this."

Chris narrowed his eyes. "I was just returned to my body after a month in… somewhere else. I need time to adjust, and then I will be fine."

Lola's lips curled into a smirk as her gaze wandered over the cave and finally settled on Chris once more. "You don't remember where you were, do you? You don't remember anything about the past month."

Chris didn't answer. He had a strong suspicion that there was no reason to answer the question; Lola likely knew quite a bit more about this than he did. But he had sold his soul to the devil, and though he knew that no one had ever been able to confirm exactly what happens to a soul after Lucifer claims it, he could only assume he had been in hell.

"All those mental barriers, all those walls you had in place for years… they're not going to help you now," Lola continued. "Which, I am sure, will amuse Lucifer greatly."

"Why?" Chris snapped, trying to sound like his old self, trying to seem in control.

Lola laughed outright at his tone. He glowered, and that only caused her to laugh even more.

"Because there is only one place you can go for answers," she said finally.

And Chris cringed inwardly.

The Manor.

His family.

How could he confront them after everything that had happened? How could he see them, talk to them, interact with them if he was unable to remain aloof? How could he face Piper without the ability to separate her from Mom? How could he handle this when the walls in his mind had crumbled to pieces and the emotions just wouldn't stay back?

"That's why he wouldn't tell me anything," Chris whispered, his mouth dry.

It was a rhetorical question, but Lola answered anyway. "Yes," she said simply. Then she frowned and added, "Well, that and the fact that he is Lucifer, and he never reveals information without getting something in return."

Chris accepted that in silence, then asked, "Why don't I remember this past month?"

Lola studied him for a long moment, then said, "Because it is irrelevant. Where you are now, and what you feel now, is far more important."

"I don't understand."

"You are not the first soul Lucifer has released. It might not be a common thing for him to do, but it does happen. Souls come back… but when they return, they are generally somewhat less than whole. Their defenses are gone, destroyed by their stay in… well, let's call it hell for the lack of a better term."

"So it isn't hell?" Chris asked, puzzled.

Lola shrugged. "Again, what it is or is not is immaterial. You are no longer there. Now you are here. But everything you once were has been stripped away. You've been left exposed. Vulnerable. Raw. Everything will be just a little bit harder, a little bit sharper, and all those pesky human emotions will be little bit more vivid... and you will think that you are handling it, you will think that you are fighting it, but it will be tearing you apart." She smiled chillingly. "Welcome to the aftermath of hell."

And then she shimmered away.

Chris sank to his knees, weary and drained. He only understood half of what Lola had just said, but though he knew it was important, he couldn't focus on it long enough to make sense of any of her words.

God, he just wanted this to be over.

But it wasn't. Someone had paid the price for his freedom, and he had to find out who.

He drew a shaky breath, focused on the Manor, and orbed.