Chapter Twelve: Of Family
The room was quiet. Not silent – not entirely. The boy sleeping on the sofa was breathing steadily, and each inhale and exhale was just loud enough to break the stillness.
There were charts on the ground and lists on the table and pens and notes and bits of paper strewn about. It was haphazard – messy. But there was a pattern to it; one that emerged slowly from the chaos. It was clear the boy had been looking for something – and clear, too, that he hadn't found it.
Lucifer stood in the doorway, surveying the scene, and smiled.
He crossed the room, his footsteps making even less noise than the boy's breathing. The devil reached out, resting one hand gently on the boy's forehead, and murmured, "Sweet dreams, Christopher."
"Get out of my way, Prue."
"No."
It was a standoff, and it was tearing Chris apart
His cousin wasn't going to move, and she was the only thing standing between him and success. This mission was too vital, too necessary, for it to fail, and yet the only way for it to succeed was to get rid of Prue.
And she wasn't going to go down without a fight.
Chris tensed, his entire body ready for anything, as he asked in a low voice, "What happened to you?"
Prue laughed mirthlessly, no amusement in her eyes. It was a dark sound, a troubled sound, and it sent shivers down Chris' spine. What had happened to the little girl who used to follow him around the Manor, begging him to play with her? What happened to the child who wore pigtails and bright pink and laughed in delight at everything from bubbles and butterflies to the smell of her Aunt Piper's cooking?
Prue jutted her chin out, flipping dark hair away from even darker eyes, and said, "I don't want to fight you, Chris. But I will."
"Why? How can you just stand there and… God, Prue, don't you know what will happen… don't you understand?"
An icy smile appeared on the girl's lips, matching the iciness of her eyes. "I understand," she said simply, flatly. There was no remorse in her voice, nothing to indicate that this bothered her. Nothing to indicate that she saw flaws in her reasoning, that she cared at all about the people she was condemning.
"They're going to die… all of them. Prue, you can't… this isn't what Aunt Phoebe would have wanted… This isn't what any of them would have wanted!" The raw emotion choked his voice, making it hard to speak, but Chris was determined that Prue face the consequences of what she was doing.
Prue shook her head. "My mother would have wanted me to survive," she said. "She didn't – couldn't. She died. But she wouldn't want that for me."
"And what about the rest of us?" Chris demanded.
Prue shrugged. "You picked the wrong side." Something almost human flashed in her eyes, and she added in a more gentle tone, "I really don't want to hurt you, but that doesn't mean I won't."
"How can you say that? How can you choose him?"
"Because Wyatt is family, Chris! He's your family – your brother. How can you turn on him, how can you betray him?"
"I'm not…"
"There's nothing left! Everything that ever mattered to me – to them – it's gone. They're gone. My parents, your parents, Uncle Henry… Everything's been taken away, everything's been destroyed. The Manor was in shambles before Wyatt rebuilt it. Magic was exposed, and despite everything we'd done for the world, they turned on us!" She stopped abruptly, shook her head as though desperate to force away the thoughts. In a calmer voice, she said, "Wyatt is all I have left."
"You have me!" Chris snarled.
"You?" Prue repeated, scoffing. "You? What did you ever give me, Chris? With the world falling down all around me, what did you do? You left."
"I had to," Chris defended himself. "Wyatt was killing people. I had to save them, had to stop him." He blinked back the tears that threatened to fall at the memory of those first few days after Wyatt had turned, at the horror that had followed him everywhere, and added pointedly, "I asked you to come with me. I begged you to come with me."
"You asked me to chose between you and Wyatt," Prue argued. "Wyatt didn't ask that of me. Wyatt didn't demand anything of me then."
Chris narrowed his eyes and asked pointedly, "And what is he demanding of you now?"
Prue looked away and didn't answer.
Each idea was becoming more outlandish than the last. Piper knew that – and knew what it meant. She was running out of ideas, running out of ways to solve this problem. If she couldn't get Leo back, if she lost him and Chris…
She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. There had to be a way. She just had to find it.
Unfortunately, any thought that crossed her mind was quickly discarded. Nothing would work, not really, and she was growing desperate.
Her most recent idea – call the Cleaners and ask them to erase Lucifer – was ludicrous at best. Not only would they not agree, but even if she could somehow persuade them, getting rid of Lucifer wasn't necessarily going to bring Leo back.
The sound of orbs filled the attic and Piper snapped her eyes open and turned towards the noise. Unrealistic hope fluttered briefly in her chest – could this be Leo, or even Chris? – but was soon dashed as the man who appeared before her was not someone she had any desire to see.
She didn't recognize him, but she recognized the golden robe, and the very fact that an Elder had the audacity to appear uninvited in her attic so soon after they had instructed the sisters to give up on Leo made Piper's blood boil. Her lips thinned into a straight line and her eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Piper Halliwell," the Elder said.
"Who are you and what do you want?" Piper demanded coldly.
"My name is Michael," the Elder replied calmly. He fixed Piper with a stern stare, not at all cowed by the fury so clearly radiating from the eldest Charmed One. "As for what we want, did your sister not tell you that?"
Piper snorted and replied, "If all you want is to tell me to give up on Leo, then you can get the hell out of my attic," and she turned away from Michael, walking back to the Book and flipping through it, ignoring the Elder.
"Careful, Charmed One," Michael cautioned, following her across the attic floor. "I may be more lenient than the other Elders when it comes to the rules, but there are only so many times you can blatantly flaunt them before we all lose our patience with you."
Piper lifted her eyes and asked incredulously, "Before you lose your patience with us?" She laughed bitterly, darkly, and continued, "I think we've long since lost our patience with you."
"If you continue down this path, you could very well destroy everything we have worked so hard to gain since our last confrontation with Lucifer," Michael said. "You must see the bigger picture…"
"The bigger picture?" Piper interrupted. "This is my family. There is no bigger picture than my family."
"There is always a bigger picture," Michael replied softly. "There are always people hurt and dying. There are always people in danger. Your family is not the only one that suffers. But we will all undoubtedly suffer if you allow Lucifer to bait you like this." He folded his arms over his chest. "This is your last warning, Charmed One. Stop looking for the devil."
Piper raised her chin defiantly. "And if I don't?" she questioned.
Michael's expression became even more grim as he replied, "We will do what needs to be done to protect the world."
It was Phoebe who suggested the idea, even though it made her a little uneasy.
No matter how many times the three sisters summoned demons, they were unable to get any information on Lucifer's whereabouts or Lucifer's plan. No one would speak to them; either loyalty to, or fear of, Lucifer kept the silent. But maybe they were going about this the wrong way. Maybe they should stop trying to obtain help from those on the side of Evil.
Maybe they should be getting help from people on the side of Good.
"The Elders have forbidden us from going after Lucifer," Paige argued pointedly. "What makes you think we can get help from anyone now?"
"But I'm not saying we should ask the Elders," Phoebe argued. "I'm saying we should ask some of the groups we've helped over the years. Leprechauns, nymphs, dwarves…"
"They'll listen to the Elders," Piper said angrily. "They won't help us if the Elders tell them not to."
"But we don't know if the Elders have told them not to," Phoebe replied.
"They're probably watching us, listening to our conversation right now," Paige said, glancing towards the ceiling. "It wouldn't surprise me if they've just ordered every white-lighter out there to carry messages to all of our potential allies, telling them to stay away from us."
It sounded paranoid, but Phoebe knew that Paige was probably right. She wouldn't put it past the Elders to keep tabs on them now, when the stakes were so high and they were at such odds. She'd thought about that before bringing this idea to her sisters. In fact, she'd considered it so seriously that she'd actually debated insisting Paige orb them to the Underworld where the Elders wouldn't be able to spy on them.
In the end, though, she wasn't sure it would matter.
"Here's the thing," Phoebe said, "we're the Charmed Ones. We've helped these people – and creatures – when the Elders didn't. And Leo saved pretty much everyone from the Titans. I think we can find beings who will listen to us. I think we can find beings that will help."
They would need to be cautious, though, and it was that realization that made Phoebe uneasy. She had no qualms about disobeying the Elders – what right did they have to give orders anyway, particularly when it was Gideon whose initial betrayal had started this entire mess? – but she was hesitant to begin any real conflict with them. They couldn't afford to cross any lines because they still needed to be able to smooth things over when this was done.
"So where do we start?" Paige asked, leaning forward eagerly, eyes fixed on Phoebe.
It was Piper who answered, "The Gypsies. Remember when we helped protect Ava from the demon after her family?"
"And then she trained us to be midwives for you even though you were so adamant that you would have Wyatt at a hospital despite all the danger?" Paige said with a smirk. "Yes, I remember."
"Gypsy magic might be able to help us," Piper continued, rolling her eyes at Paige's remark.
Paige was already on her feet, moving towards the telephone.
Phoebe glanced at Piper. The eldest Charmed One was smiling, looking actually optimistic for the first time in weeks, and Phoebe felt her uneasiness at the plan start to abate. She desperately wanted to save Chris and Leo, but it was more than that. She wanted to save Piper, too, because she knew that failing at this would destroy her sister.
It seemed like only a few days ago that she had warned Paige of the changes she could sense in Piper and Leo. For reasons she hadn't been able to fully explain, the anger and desperation and guilt she had sensed in them then had scared her.
The desperation she saw in Piper – and the willingness to do whatever it took to save her family – scared Phoebe now, too.
But what other choice did they have? Giving up was not an option.
She followed Paige from the room.
By the time she found her sister in the kitchen, Paige was already hanging up the phone. She turned towards Phoebe, smiling. "Ava is going to come over in a bit," she explained before Phoebe could ask. "She's going to talk to some of the others in her clan first, see if they know anything."
"When the Elders talked to you before, did they say what they would do if we didn't listen to their instructions?" Phoebe asked bluntly.
Paige frowned and replied slowly, thoughtfully, "No. I mean, they weren't specific, but they made it clear not listening to them would not end well for us." She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Why?"
Phoebe gave a half-hearted shrug. "I just want to know what we're up against," she said softly. "I'd rather avoid any unnecessary conflict."
"Phoebe, this was your idea," Paige said, sounding annoyed. "You can't be backing out of it already."
"I'm not," Phoebe said. "Really… I'm not. I just…" She stopped, unable to come up with the right words. She wasn't even really sure what she was trying to say, or what she was thinking and feeling. It was too complicated, too convoluted.
Her emotions were too mixed up with everyone else's.
"I just want this to work, that's all," she said finally. "I don't want the Elders to get in the way. I don't want them to make things worse."
Paige leaned back against the counter. "You weren't there," she said. "You didn't listen to Piper and Chris argue… it was like watching two trains rushing at each other at sixty miles an hour and not being able to do anything about it."
Phoebe furrowed her brow, not sure why Paige was telling her this. She knew Piper and Chris were at odds. Well, Chris was at odds with all of them. But what did that have to do with the three sisters going up against the Elders?
"I'm not sure that Chris even wants to save Leo," Paige said, lowering her voice and glancing towards the door. Phoebe didn't bother to ask why Paige was now whispering, the answer was obvious enough. This was not a conversation they could afford to have with Piper.
Phoebe, however, did bristle at the comment. How could Paige accuse Chris of not caring about his own family when he had been willing to sacrifice everything for Wyatt?
"Then… when Chris and I argued, before Piper got there… there was this moment when I thought I saw something… some emotion… in his eyes. I thought… I thought he wanted to save Leo. I thought he cared about Leo. I thought he…" Paige stopped, shook her head. "Now I can't help but wonder if what I saw wasn't actually his desire to save himself. Leo is just a means to an end… without him, there would be no more Chris."
Phoebe wasn't sure how to respond. She wanted to defend Chris, of course. But some part of her also had to admit that Chris hadn't been acting like himself since his return and she really didn't know how he felt about Leo.
So, after a moment of contemplation, she settled on merely asking, "What does this have to do with anything?"
"Piper is angry. Furious. She needs somewhere for that anger to go, and if it doesn't go towards Lucifer and the Elders, then it is going to go towards us. Towards Chris and his issues with Leo, whatever they are. And towards herself." Paige chewed her lip nervously. "If we can't get Leo back – and soon – I don't think any of us are going to survive it. I know you're worried about the Elders, but I don't think… Honestly, I think a conflict with them will be the least of our problems."
Phoebe considered this, finally deciding that she couldn't argue with the logic. She knew how loss and grief affected them all, knew how their powers made them all the more dangerous. Piper had turned into a Fury after Prue's death and a Valkerie after Leo became an Elder; Phoebe herself had turned into a banshee the first time she had lost Cole.
"I'm going to orb over to P3," Paige said slowly, breaking into Phoebe's thoughts. Her words were measured as though she was just now thinking through the idea. "If Chris is there, I can let him know that we're going to talk to Ava."
Phoebe pursed her lips. "Do you think he's going to care?" she asked, voicing the concerns she could see clearly in Paige's expression.
Paige answered with a one-shoulder shrug. "I don't know, but he has a right to know what we're doing. He deserves that much."
They were both bleeding.
Chris was sprawled on the floor, his battered body showing the signs of their fight. Prue was on her knees across from him, and though there was blood on her forehead and bruises on her arms and legs, the pain she must have felt did not show in her eyes.
Instead they were cold, angry.
"Why are you making me do this?" Prue snarled, her voice dripping with venom. "Why can't you just leave? Walk away, Chris. You're good at that."
"I can't," Chris said, shaking his head and crawling to his hands and knees. He looked past her, towards the door she was defending, towards the room that he knew was beyond it. "I can't let Wyatt do this. I can't let him continue to kill."
"He's protecting us," Prue protested. "He'd be protecting you, too, if you would just let him."
"I can't!" Chris cried furiously. "How can you not see it? How can you not see what he's become?"
Prue rose to her feet. "Of course I see it," she snarled back. "Of course I see what he's become!"
Chris reeled back, eyes widening at her words, at her admission. "You... what...?" he whispered.
"You act like the world was this perfect place before Wyatt turned! It wasn't, Chris. Do you remember that? Do you remember how it was harsh and cruel? Do you remember how you fell to your knees beside Aunt Piper when she died? Do you remember how you couldn't stop screaming? Because I remember that. And I remember stumbling over my own mother's dead body and seeing my father die protecting me! Have you let your hatred of Wyatt's regime blind you to what the world used to be like? Are you really so determined to remember it all with rose-tinted glasses that you've convinced yourself to forget?"
Chris clambered to his feet as well. "I remember," he said painfully. He remembered all too well.
"You call Wyatt evil, and then he says evil doesn't exist and all that matters is power and our choices. Don't you see that it isn't that simple? He is trying to protect all of us. He is trying to keep us alive, keep us together. And I want that. I don't want my family to die!"
"The methods matter, Prue!"
"Don't talk to me about methods! The Cleaners could have just cleaned up the mess the first time magic was exposed, but they didn't. Our mothers had to go to a demon for help, and Aunt Prue died because of it. The Elders continually separated Uncle Leo from Aunt Piper and you and Wyatt. Grandpa's going to die from lung cancer soon and let me guess… the Elders won't let any of your white-lighter allies heal him because it isn't a magical ailment? And all of this was for what? The Greater Good? So their methods are acceptable… right?" She stopped, took a deep breath as though willing herself to calm down. "My mother died and the carpet turned red underneath her and her blood spread onto my clothing and my skin, and we still continued to fight the good fight. And we still continued to die." She stopped again, shook her head. "I'm tired, Chris," she said. "I just want us to be safe. I just want us to survive."
Chris tensed, pulling his magic to the forefront, ready to fight, as he replied, "My mother died for what she believed in, Prue. She died to protect this world, and I won't trample all over her memory by allowing her oldest son to destroy it. Do you really think I've forgotten her sacrifice? I'm fighting now because I remember."
Prue stared at him for a long moment, then asked, "Are you wiling to kill Wyatt in Aunt Piper's name?"
Chris awoke with a jolt and sat stiffly upright, his eyes scanning the room quickly, looking for danger.
"Chris… Chris. Easy, it's just me," a voice said, and Chris blinked and focused on the woman crouching down next to him.
"Paige…" he said numbly.
"Are you alright?" Paige asked worriedly. "You looked…" She paused for a moment, searching for the right words, and then said, "It looked like you were having a nightmare."
Chris shook his head. "I'm fine," he said, struggling to force away the remnants of the dream. The memory.
He swung his legs over the side of the sofa and stood up, backing away from Paige. His attempt to get some sleep had not worked out particularly well, but that was hardly a surprise. Still, the nightmare was more vividly painful than usual, and he could still see his cousin's eyes staring at him accusingly.
He blinked. It wouldn't do to dwell on that. The future would be different – Prue would be different. Everything that had happened would be undone.
He hoped.
"What are you doing here?" he asked Paige, changing the subject in an attempt to think of something besides the future.
Paige looked nonplussed by his businesslike attitude, but answered, "Piper, Phoebe, and I are going to talk to Ava. She's a Gypsy. We thought maybe she could help us figure out what to do about Lucifer." She stopped, and Chris waited for her to say something else.
She didn't.
He sighed. "So?" he prompted.
"Do you want to be there for it?" Paige asked.
Chris automatically opened his mouth to refuse. There were so many reasons he could give – this was a waste of time, he had other things he needed to do before he disappeared, Lucifer couldn't be stopped – but they would all be lies. He knew his main reason for wanting to avoid this, wanting to avoid them. He didn't want to hear Piper's harsh accusations, and even more than that didn't want to hear her apologies.
But he paused before the words could be formed. His emotions had gotten the better of him more than once since his return, but he had to ignore them, had to push them aside. He had to do whatever was necessary to protect the future – including keeping the Charmed Ones from doing something stupid enough to get themselves killed.
"Fine," he said slowly, inwardly wincing at the very idea of joining the sisters but all the same knowing he didn't have much of a choice.
Paige looked momentarily surprised, but recovered quickly. "Great," she said, her tone just a little bit too cheerful, and Chris knew she had been expecting him to refuse. 'Well, come on then."
Chris braced himself for the awkward conversation he knew would follow his arrival at the Manor, then orbed.
He reappeared in the kitchen. Phoebe was sitting at the table with a woman that Chris didn't recognize, and Piper was standing by the tea kettle, leaning against the counter as she waited for the water to boil. All three sets of eyes focused on Paige and Chris as they orbed in, and everything fell quiet.
The strange woman was the first to break the tense silence. "You must be Chris," she said, standing up and extending her hand towards him. "I'm Ava."
He walked over to her, reaching out to politely shake her hand. She smiled and he forced himself to return it, though he could tell that the smile did not fool her. There was something sad in her expression as she studied him.
"Paige," Ava said, turning towards the youngest Charmed One, "so good to see you again."
"And you," Paige said, hugging Ava. "Thank you for coming."
"Of course," Ava said. "Piper an Phoebe were just filling me in on some more details. I was able to discuss this briefly with my clan's elders before coming over, and I have to admit, our knowledge of Lucifer is somewhat limited. He doesn't come up much in our lore."
"Not much is known about him, and a lot of what is out there isn't even true," Chris said. "But since the most complete set of knowledge about him is probably at Magic School and the Elders aren't going to let us in there, anything you've got is better than what we have."
The water boiled and the tea kettle emitted a screeching noise. Chris turned towards it, and for the briefest moment, he and Piper locked gazes. Her eyes immediately filled with tears and he felt the almost uncontrollable desire to yell at her.
How dare she be the one in tears when it was his existence that was in jeopardy? He was the one who had given up everything for Wyatt – for the future. Why did she get to grieve?
His anger must have shown on his face because she flinched away from him and reached for the kettle. She poured the water quickly, and Chris noted that she was using tea leaves.
"Make sure to give one to Chris," Ava instructed. "I can read his leaves when he's done."
"I'd rather not," Chris snapped. Ava raised her eyebrows, surprised by his outburst. He was surprised by it, too, though it arose from well-founded fear. Anyone who read his tea leaves would know details about him that he tried to keep hidden, details that could be used against him. The defensive paranoia that flared inside of him was something that had kept him alive in the future, but he knew – logically, at least – that he wasn't in the same sort of danger here.
"I'm not asking to pry into your secrets," Ava said pointedly.
"Then why do you want to read the leaves?" Chris demanded, the words slipping out before he could think through them. He needed to stop – needed to ignore this fear. Needed to get his emotions under control. He shouldn't be so blatantly lashing out at a supposed ally.
Next to him, Paige bristled. "Chris, really…" she started, but Chris cut her off.
"What?" he asked. "What is so wrong about not wanting complete strangers to read my secrets? Why does she need them, anyway? So she can share them with all of you?"
"There might be something useful there," Ava cut in. Chris gave her a skeptical look, and she elaborated, "You fate is closely tied to Leo's fate. If there is something there, something that can lead us to Leo… to Lucifer…"
Chris expelled a breath, unable to argue with her logic. "Right," he said ungraciously. "Fine."
Piper handed him a cup of tea. He took it, swirling the liquid around for a few minutes, then glanced over at Ava as he took a sip of the scalding liquid.
Ava sat back down at the table and said, "There is one thing that I thought was interesting. Maybe even useful."
"About Lucifer?" Piper asked eagerly.
Ava nodded. "There's a legend of a priestess that battled a being similar to Lucifer," she said. "All powerful, pure evil, never lied. They called him Amnari."
"Did she win?" Phoebe asked.
"Not exactly," Ava admitted reluctantly. "He tormented most of her family, and eventually they all turned on each other. There was a great battle and nearly everyone died. But the priestess was able to save herself and her daughter."
"How?" Chris asked curiously, taking another sip of his tea. He hadn't heard of this story; his knowledge of Lucifer was limited.
"That is where the details get rather vague," Ava replied.
Chris rolled his eyes and muttered, "Of course it is."
"What the legend says is that she got Amnari to stop coming after her by causing enough problems for him that he was willing to deal."
"What kind of problems?" Piper asked skeptically. Chris knew what she was thinking without her having to vocalize it – they had tried to cause problems for Lucifer and it hadn't done any good. What could this priestess have done to succeed where they had failed?
"I don't know," Ava replied. "As I said, the details were vague. Do any of you know enough about Lucifer to know what he would consider a problem?"
Chris took a gulp of his tea as he contemplated that question. The tea was still too hot, and it burned his tongue and the back of his throat. His eyes started watering almost immediately, and he rubbed at them with the back of one hand.
"There's no rush to finish the tea," Paige said jokingly.
Chris rolled his eyes, gaze sliding sideways to Ava. "I know," he muttered sourly.
Phoebe narrowed her eyes at him speculatively, and he quickly slammed what remained of his ruined mental barriers back into place. It wouldn't be enough to keep all his emotions hidden, but hopefully Phoebe would get the hint and stay out of his mind.
Not that the sisters were exactly known for respecting people's privacy. Actually, no one in the Halliwell family had ever been known for that.
At that thought, he furrowed his brow and said, "Betrayal."
"What?" Piper asked sharply, looking over at him.
"What Lucifer would consider a problem," Chris explained, "is betrayal. His allies turning on him."
"Are you sure?" Paige questioned.
Chris nodded, and didn't elaborate. He didn't want to even consider how he knew that answer, let alone be forced to say it aloud.
Betrayal was what Lucifer did, what he excelled at. Getting people to turn on each other, tearing at the bonds that should have held them together…
And Lucifer inspired an almost unheard of loyalty among demons, warlocks, and dark lighters, so getting anyone to turn on him was next to impossible. In some ways, that was part of Lucifer's aura of power, part of what made him the incredible danger that he was; he never had to worry about his own side turning on him.
For someone to successfully turn an ally against him… it would undermine his credibility as the silver-tongued embodiment of evil. It would undermine his authority.
Lucifer would make a deal to stop it.
And part of that deal would necessarily be that his opponent could never tell anyone about it because Lucifer couldn't take the risk that Good would figure out his weakness. That was why the details of the story were so vague – the priestess had never told anyone how she succeeded.
Piper was still staring at Chris, but without suspicion in her eyes. He'd half-expected it, just like he'd expected an accusation or a demand for explanations. But Piper seemed content to accept his answer and not press him for details… at least not yet.
For which Chris was absurdly thankful.
He didn't like thinking about how much Lucifer reminded him of Wyatt.
The one and only time Chris had ever succeeded in getting Wyatt to make a deal with the Resistance – a temporary truce that really only lasted long enough for the witches and mortals to recover from a horrific battle – was after Chris had convinced the Phoenix clan to betray the Twice Blessed.
Chris took another sip of tea. It was cooler this time, so he drained the entire cup.
Ava reached out to take the cup from him at the same time that Phoebe said, "The only ally we know of is Lola. And she's not going to turn on him."
"Maybe we just haven't thought of the right method yet," Piper retorted. "We need to convince her that Lucifer is using her. That he doesn't care about her."
"For all we know, he does care about her," Chris pointed out as he watched Ava. The Gypsy was studying his tea leaves with a frown on her features and he didn't like the look of sympathy and pain in her eyes.
This was a bad idea. It wasn't like the tea leaves were going to have anything good to say.
Ava gave a startled gasp and put the cup down.
"What is it?" Piper asked urgently.
Ava shook her head. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sorry… it's just… I see a battle. A big one."
"And I'm a part of the battle?" Chris asked quietly. That didn't seem like something to be so upset about. He'd been part of battles before. In fact, he spent years doing nothing but fighting.
Again, Ava shook her head. "You're the trigger," she said. "You're what finally starts everything."
Chris didn't like the sound of that.
Apparently neither did Piper. "Maybe there is more than one way to interpret the leaves?" she suggested. "Maybe it's vague… like the premonitions Phoebe gets. We don't get all the details, just that one moment in time, and sometimes there is more to the story that we don't know…"
Ava might have replied, but Chris wasn't listening. His gaze snapped to Piper's face and then swung slowly to Phoebe. "The premonition," he said with an abrupt realization.
"What?" Phoebe asked. "What premonition?"
"The premonition you had of Lola being vanquished," Chris replied, thinking aloud. "Lucifer told me he sent it to you. He said he needed to get you involved somehow, and that seemed the easiest way."
"So?" Paige prompted. "He planted a fake premonition. What about it?"
But Chris shook his head. "It wasn't fake," he said. All three sisters stared at him uncomprehendingly, and he explained, "Lucifer can't lie. That also means he can't send fake premonitions. He can only plant real ones."
"So the premonition Phoebe received was real," Piper said slowly. She looked at Chris. "What does that mean?"
"It means," Chris said, "that Lucifer is setting Lola up to die."
"Come back to the Resistance with me, Prue," Chris begged. "Please… I can help you. I can keep you safe."
But Prue shook her head. "We made our choices a long time ago, Chris. We picked sides." The weariness was evident in every line of her face, but so was the determination.
And she was standing between him and his goal.
He looked past her, and she turned her head as well, following his gaze. The room. Inside it, the potion vial. Inside the potion vial…
"You're really going to do it," Chris whispered hoarsely. "You're really going to release that. You're going to take the potion vial and smash it…"
Chris shuddered to think of what Wyatt had created. How many innocent people would die when that potion was released? Potions weren't even supposed to work like that, weren't supposed to infect people, weren't supposed to spread, but Wyatt had managed to twist it, change it. He'd used his magic, his power, to create something that would destroy so much…
And Chris knew he had to stop it, had to stop Wyatt…
Had to stop Prue.
He was bruised and battered and bleeding and it was his family he was fighting, but it didn't matter. He had to do this.
For the Greater Good.
He waved his hand but Prue blocked the telekinetic attack and countered with one of her own. She'd inherited more than just premonitions from her mother, and she kicked Chris twice in the chest before he was able to get away from her. He retaliated with a telekinetic shove that knocked her off balance and she fell, but caught herself and rolled away.
"Prue, please…" Chris begged again, knowing it was useless but having to do it all the same.
Prue wiped the blood from her lips and launched herself at him. They collided and he hit the wall. The breath was knocked from his lungs and he gasped for oxygen even as Prue rolled off of him and delivered a powerful roundhouse kick to his chest.
He blocked it – barely. He threw her backwards and she hit the floor, crying out in pain as her arm twisted under her.
"Don't do this," Chris pleaded.
"If I don't, Wyatt will," Prue answered, forcing out the words through clenched teeth. "This is pointless, Chris. Even if you take this vial, Wyatt will just make another."
Chris knew that. He also knew that he was the better potion maker, and if he could just see what was in this potion, he could make a potion to counter it. He might not have Wyatt's power, but with the power of all the witches in the Resistance combined, they could stop this.
He hoped.
Prue was back on her feet… and she had an athame in her hand.
Everything happened quickly – too quickly – and it would forever haunt Chris that he couldn't remember the exact details. It was a blur – only just clear enough for him to know what he had done.
She launched herself at him once more and he dodged, but she turned with him and then the athame was slicing through his skin, leaving a long gash that ran from his right shoulder down across his chest. Shallow enough that he wouldn't die right away, deep enough that he would die without medical attention. He knocked the athame from her hand and their fingers met, there was a clatter of metal as the ceremonial knife hit the floor, and then they were both falling.
Chris' fingers closed on the hilt of the athame and then Prue's own hand was at his throat, and she had another athame – where did they keep coming from? – and the cold metal was pressed against his skin, drawing blood, and Prue…
Prue was crying.
And Chris stabbed her in the chest.
Chris didn't know what had woken him from the dream, but he was thankful for it. He didn't want to think about that day, didn't want to remember Prue's lifeless body or his own blood-covered hands. He'd killed her to save the world…
And he still wasn't entirely sure it had been worth it.
It was a memory he carried with him everywhere, just as he carried with him the memory of the few days after Prue's death. Bianca's look – silent and understanding. His Aunt Paige's shocked expression and the way her eyes had hardened moments later. Grandpa's choked sob and the way he quickly hid the tears, not wanting anyone to see.
And Darius' words. Darius, one of the few Elders left. Darius, one of the de facto leaders of the Resistance. Darius, who hated Bianca and half the time didn't even trust that Chris wouldn't betray them all to Wyatt. Darius, who had become so hardened by the war that Chris sometimes struggled to see the good left in him.
Darius, who healed Chris' injuries and helped make the counter potion and would later sacrificed his life to save several innocent children being hunted by demons.
Darius, who had looked at a grieving, heartbroken, guilt-ridden Chris and said matter-of-factly If you can kill Prudence, then you can kill Wyatt, too.
I can't. I can't do this again, Chris had thought, but he hadn't said it.
Chris didn't even remember falling asleep, but the exhaustion must have snuck up on him. He had been sitting at the table in the back room of P3, going over his notes on Lola, trying to figure out if his plan had any chance of working. He must have knocked the notes over in his sleep, because they were scattered about, and many had drifted to the floor.
He reached down to grab them, and it was then that he caught sight of his hands.
And he froze.
His hands were transparent.
He had run out of time.