AN: I know I've been gone forever. I had the rest of the story all planned out and was just struggling to get it onto paper... so a big thank you to Jane Mays for the (gentle) nudge to start writing again.
Chapter Twenty: The Fall of Good
Chris stared at the spell. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor of yet another Underworld cavern – this one actually rather homey and surprisingly clean – while Piper and Paige guarded the door and Phoebe set out the ingredients for the ritual. The cavern's two previous occupants lay in piles of ash behind him, and the labyrinth of corridors that had to be navigated to get here made it unlikely the ritual would be interrupted by any unwelcome demons stumbling across them.
At least for now.
"The amount of magic this requires…" Chris said softly.
"Will alert every demon in the vicinity that there are witches using good magic here," Phoebe finished his statement. She gave him a pointed look, and said, "You've mentioned that several times, Chris. As soon as you finish the spell, Paige will orb us away. We'll be fine."
Chris nodded and chewed his lip. This was a good plan – or, at least, as good of a plan as he could come up with at the moment – but even a blood spell augmented by the Power of Three had its limitations. Would it be enough to reach Leo wherever he was?
"Are you ready?" Phoebe asked, interrupting his worried thoughts.
Chris nodded silently.
Piper was staring at him. Her intense gaze was fixed on his features, though her eyes darted once or twice to the silver bowl in front of him before returning to settle intently on his face. What little hope she had left – that tiny glimmer of emotion that she had managed to summon out of the despair she'd carried everywhere since the Elders had summoned Leo – was resting on him.
If he couldn't reach Leo…
How much harder would Piper crash, now that she'd been forced to hope again?
He gritted his teeth. He could not waste effort worrying about that right now. He had to focus on finding Leo, on defeating Lucifer, on saving the world. Nothing else mattered.
He could almost hear Bianca's voice in his head, mocking him, chiding him, telling him to stop being such a martyr.
He picked up the three sprigs of rosemary – for remembrance – and tossed them into the bowl. Those were followed by two tablespoons chopped holly – for spirit calling – and a pinch of cypress for longevity. Piper and Paige stepped away from the door long enough to stand next to him, and he lifted the final ingredient – shredded yarrow root for reaching a lost relative – and added it to the bowl.
Phoebe handed him the knife.
He pricked the forefinger of his left hand and watched as a single drop of blood fell on top of the yarrow root. Paige and Phoebe put a hand on his shoulders, and he felt Piper's fingers ghost through his hair, and then he held out the spell for them all to see, and they began to read in unison.
"Prudence, Penelope, Patricia, Melinda, Astrid, Helena, Laura, and Grace…"
A sudden wind whipped through the room, and the temperature dropped by several degrees. Chris lifted his eyes from the paper just long enough to see a shadow move across the doorway, then he pushed on with the rest of the spell.
"Halliwell witches stand strong beside us, send these memories through time and space."
The wind picked up, started howling. The air around them began to shimmer, to ripple, and the three sisters moved away from him and started fighting almost as soon as the demons appeared. Chris was left alone in front of the potion ritual, alone with the spell.
It didn't matter – this was his part, anyway.
"Blood of my blood, I send this to thee," he whispered, a thousand memories rushing through his mind, threatening to overwhelm him, "blood of my blood, take it from me."
A bright white light burst out of his chest and spread through the room, expanding to fill the space. He slammed his eyes shut to protect them from the light, and his emotions rose up through his chest, pressing against his throat, choking him. The memories of Leo – his memories of Leo – played out behind his eyelids before seeping away, as though called elsewhere.
He could only hope they'd reach Leo.
The light had left him momentarily blinded. He blinked once, twice, and his vision swam and then cleared, giving him the unsettling déjà vu of having done this once before, when he returned from hell.
He felt a hand wrap around his arm and jerked to his feet, knocking over the silver bowl and scattering the ritual ingredients. Paige was standing over him, holding him tightly, while at the same time reaching out for Piper. There was blood on Paige's face and Piper was holding one arm awkwardly against her side, but it was Phoebe who seemed to be in the most danger. She was outnumbered five-to-one, and beyond Paige's grasp.
Chris pulled away from Paige and rushed towards Phoebe as one of the demons snarled and slashed at her with jagged claws. He flung out an arm, telekinetically shoving the demon off balance, and Phoebe dodged away from the attack just in time.
She spun around to face Chris, and he saw the blood spreading out across her shirt.
He grabbed her arm frantically, and twisted around to yell at Paige, "Go!"
She didn't need to be told twice. As soon as the word was out of Chris' mouth, she disintegrated into a million tiny blue and white dots, taking Piper with her.
Chris spun around to face Phoebe and the demons closing in on them, and prepared to orb as well.
In the entrance way beyond them the shadow moved again, and as Chris orbed away, he caught a glimpse of a pair of blue eyes staring at him.
The moment Chris reappeared, Paige rushed to his side and enveloped him and Phoebe in a tight hug. He stiffened, though he felt Phoebe shift next to him as she returned Paige's hug, and waited for the youngest Charmed One to release him.
Beyond Paige, he saw Piper staring at him, a mixture of unreadable emotions in her eyes.
Paige stepped back, and Chris cleared his throat and asked Piper, "How is your arm?"
Piper curled and straightened her fingers experimentally, then she bent her arm at the elbow and winced in pain. "Bruised," she said after a moment, " and a bit swollen, but nothing's broken."
That was good, Chris reflected bitterly, because it wasn't like they had a white-lighter to heal her.
"That spell…" Paige started.
"Forget the spell," Phoebe grumbled, touching her shirt gingerly as she sagged against the nearest wall, "what about the million demons that showed up?"
"Oh my God," Piper breathed, catching sight of the blood on Phoebe's stomach. "Are you alright?" She rushed to her sister's side, skin paling until she was nearly sheet-white.
Phoebe nodded. "The cut isn't that deep," she said, lifting her shirt just enough to show a long, jagged wound. But she had to grit her teeth to force out the words, and it was clear that she was in pain.
"Phoebe, you need…"
"What?" Phoebe interrupted before Piper could finish the statement. "A white-lighter? We don't have one. Medical attention? How am I going to get that if I can't leave the Underworld?"
Hiding in the Underworld, fighting against Lucifer and running from the Elders... not having a white-lighter was a flaw in the plan, of course, but Chris didn't see what other choice they had. Until they reached Leo, they were on their own. And if the Leo they found had been recycled, was now entirely human... well, they'd be without a healer after they found him, too.
"Where did all those demons come from?" Paige asked, wiping a hand over her face and smearing blood from a cut on her cheek across her pale skin.
"The spell called them," Chris said heavily, giving Paige a brief look before turning his attention to Phoebe. "It was more powerful than I had expected, and… and they came faster than I thought they would." He tried to hide his concern as Phoebe slid down the wall into a sitting position, pain etched into the lines in her face. He couldn't offer her any comfort or aid from the pain, and any worry he showed would just increase her own.
Witches were dying everywhere because they didn't have white-lighters to heal them. He knew that – he'd seen it. So why did he expect the four of them to be any different?
"I've never… I can't remember the last time I've seen a spell do that," Piper said.
Chris glanced at her mutely. What could he say to that? He'd seen Wyatt's magic, and so there was very little that could surprise him any more. His brother's nearly unstoppable power had always left a wave of destruction in its wake – or perhaps that was just how Wyatt had used it.
Instead of replying to her comment, he said, "Lucifer was there. I saw him."
Paige had hurried to Phoebe's side, and was kneeling down next to the empath. At Chris' comment, she shot him a look over one shoulder, and he could read the unspoken question in her gaze.
"He would be drawn to the spell, to the amount of power we used," Chris said. "He would have felt it, would have come to investigate… but I don't think he knew what we were doing. I think he was trying to figure it out." He paused, then added a bit wryly, "But for all we know he could be spying on us right now. For all we know, he already knows everything."
Piper's gaze quickly wandered over everything in the vicinity, as though expecting Lucifer to suddenly appear. "That's comforting," she muttered. She turned back to Chris, and he knew what she was going to ask before the words left her mouth.
"Do you think it worked? The spell… did it reach him?"
Chris was honestly a bit surprised that that question hadn't been the first thing out of her mouth the moment they had all reappeared, but the injuries they had suffered, particularly Phoebe's, had momentarily distracted her. Now, though…
The look of desperation seemed so out of place on her features. He'd seen everything else – fear, pain, anger, grief, laughter, exhilaration, contentment. The mother he had known had worn her heart on her sleeve, rarely hiding anything unless absolutely necessary for the success of some vanquish. But this desperation, this expression that told him that she couldn't go on without Leo…
She'd managed without Leo just fine in his past, her future.
Well, perhaps not just fine, but she'd managed, and the look in her eyes now was just one more reminder of how different Piper and Mom were. No matter how blurred the line between the two of them got, there still appeared to be some irreconcilable differences.
"I don't know," he admitted. "I – we – cast the spell. That much is obvious. Whether or not it had enough power to reach Leo…" he shrugged. "All we can do is wait."
Piper nodded and turned away from him, shoulders sagging. It wasn't the answer she wanted to hear.
He wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her, wanted to yell at her to pull herself together. He wanted her to turn back into either the loving and determined mother he had known or the suspicious and determined Piper she had been at the beginning of the year, because he didn't know how to deal with this version of her.
He slowly clenched and unclenched his hands, willing his anger to recede.
Almost on a whim, he said, "Before I vanquished Lola, she said that I might be able to stop the war by telling the Elders the truth."
"No!"
"Are you crazy? You know what will happen."
Piper and Paige responded immediately. Chris had the feeling that Phoebe would have jumped in as well, had her expression not been scrunched into a look of intense pain. Paige had pulled disinfectant and bandages out of somewhere and was attempting to bandage Phoebe's stomach, and it was clearly hurting the empath.
Chris shrugged. "Your gypsy friend – Ava? She said that I would be the trigger to start the war. And she was right, wasn't she? I'm the one who made the most recent deal with Lucifer, the deal that released Leo and turned the Elders against us."
He was also the one who had made the first deal with Lucifer, had invited the devil into their lives and given him the opportunity to wreak havoc on everything. If he hadn't done that, if he hadn't let his frustration and his despair get the better of him, if he hadn't given in to Lola's repeated offers of an introduction…
Wyatt would not have been saved.
He laughed outright at that thought, a bitter laugh that caused Paige and Piper to stare at him in concern, and even had Phoebe opening her eyes and fixing him with a piercing look. He waved off their worry and looked away, remembering.
Hadn't Bianca once told him that it could come down to this…? We both know, Chris, that there is a very good chance you would simply let the world burn if it meant saving Wyatt.
"Lucifer started the war," Paige said firmly. "This isn't your fault." She straightened, Phoebe's bandaging finished, and stepped in front of Chris. "You can't blame yourself for what happened."
Chris raised his eyebrows at her. He could easily argue the point, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. None of the sisters would be willing to accept his culpability in the matter.
He ran a hand through his hair and took a shaky breath. "People are dying. If I can stop it…" He trailed off and didn't finish the thought.
The problem, as Lola had very succinctly laid out for him, was that there was no guarantee that he could stop it. Would the Elders believe him? Would they care? Would the other witches and white-lighter and various magical creatures stop their infighting long enough to listen?
"No," Piper said sharply, cutting into his thoughts. "I am not going to let you sacrifice yourself. It's not going to happen, Chris."
He gave her a long, level stare. "I don't need your permission," he said flatly.
Piper stepped back as though he had slapped her. Tears appeared momentarily in her wide eyes, but she blinked once and they were gone.
"Fine," she said with a choked laugh and half-shake of her heard. "Go sacrifice yourself. Give up on us, on your family. Leave."
"Piper…" Phoebe said softly, hauling herself to a standing position. Her gaze flicked back and forth between mother and son, and it was clear that she could read both their emotions.
But Piper ignored her. "God, haven't you learned anything?" she snapped at Chris.
Chris narrowed his eyes. "Haven't you?" he retorted, flushing slightly. It wasn't like he wanted to hurt her, or any of them, but they were rapidly running out of options. And she wasn't his mother – not yet – and even if she had been, it wouldn't have mattered. He was a grown adult and he didn't need her permission anymore.
"Piper, Chris… please…" Phoebe murmured.
"Let's just focus on finding Leo," Paige interjected quickly. "That is our first step. We find Leo, we get him back. Then we can take it from there."
Chris nodded moodily, and Piper huffed. The air was still thick with tension.
"How bad do you think it is getting out there?" Phoebe asked after a moment of silence. She glanced up towards the ceiling, as though she could stare directly through it and see the rest of the world above them.
Chris exhaled slowly. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "Probably pretty bad."
His home had turned into chaos.
Michael wasn't entirely sure how the dark-lighter in question had obtained the ability to orb – or, rather, he wasn't sure who the dark-lighter had killed in order to obtain that ability. But he had appeared, bringing several demons and warlocks with him, and the usually calm and serene fog-filled atmosphere of Up There had been replaced by screams and crimson blood staining the white marble.
The infighting, the lack of trust, had worked against them. Even as the agents of Evil came rushing towards them, Elders had been yelling at each other, blaming one another for the sudden lapse in security.
Most of the white-lighters had orbed away as soon as they could, taking several of the Elders with them. But Michael wasn't sure where they would go. The leprechauns had protected them when the Titans had attacked, as had fairies. Would either of those groups help them now, given the animosity that currently existed between them?
He closed his eyes and leaned against a marble pillar, trying to ignore the pain.
The attack should have unified them. Whatever suspicions Michael harbored about Leo and the Charmed Ones, he didn't think they'd managed to corrupt any of the other Elders or white-lighters yet, and even if they had…
He just couldn't imagine that a single one of his friends, his family, would have allowed dark-lighters and demons here. No matter how corrupted they became, none of them would have stooped to this. Not after the last civil war...
They had a common enemy now, and the attack should have brought them together, strengthened the ties between them.
But apparently many others disagreed with him on that. They were already dividing themselves into factions, taking sides, blaming each other for the attack and accusing each other of working with demons.
Luke had already betrayed them, rushing to warn of the Charmed Ones. Maybe Michael was the one who was wrong…
"No," he hissed, forcing out the word through clenched teeth. "I'm not wrong. We're still Good, still family… Luke would never have done something like this. None of us would have."
"Does it matter if you are right or not?" a voice asked softly.
Michael jerked his head towards that terrifyingly familiar voice, but the movement caused a spasm of pain to run along the length of his spine, leaving him breathless.
He tried not to look at the knife protruding from his stomach.
"It's poisoned, you know," Lucifer said, stepping into Michael's line of sight. He knelt down beside the Elder and ran a finger along the hilt of the blade. "The demons who use this particular type of knife like the poison – it kills so slowly."
Michael tried to lift a hand, tried to summon the power to blast Lucifer across the room, but found he lacked the strength. He was weak – helpless.
Lucifer chuckled.
"Did the others leave you?" he asked, glancing around. Up There was still filled with the sounds of chaotic fighting, of screams and shouts, of war. But Up There was big, and this little part of it seemed to be almost entirely empty. The noise was distant, echoes reverberating off marble structures far beyond Michael's range of vision. The fighting had moved on, and in the confusion, Michael had been overlooked. Forgotten.
And the poison was preventing him from using magic to call out for help.
Michael shifted slightly, slipping on the blood pooling underneath him.
Lucifer twirled his sunglasses in one hand. "Do you remember the last civil war?" he asked casually. Michael didn't reply, and so Lucifer continued, "I remember it quite well. It was a masterpiece… almost." Blue eyes fixed on the Elder. "Elder turned against Elder, and the entire magical world as collateral damage. Everything was so splendidly perfect…" blue eyes hardened into ice, "and then you came along."
Michael closed his eyes, wishing he could force Lucifer away. He wasn't sure how the devil had gotten here – probably hitched a ride with the dark-lighter – but if he was going to die, he'd rather do it in peace.
But Lucifer would not leave him alone.
He heard the devil come closer, felt the devil's breath on his face, heard the whispered words.
"And do you remember what I promised you then, Michael?"
Michael opened his eyes. He could taste the metallic tang of blood in his mouth, and the pain in his body made it hard to breath, but he still forced out the words. "You won't win."
Lucifer smiled. "I already have."
"No…" Michael whispered, forcing out the words even though the effort was costing him. "No. We are stronger than you."
"Are you?" Lucifer retorted, tapping a finger against the knife hilt in Michael's abdomen, flicking the blade slightly.
Michael screamed.
Or tried to. His throat was dry and his energy was spent, and the sound came out as little more than a choked sob. The pain was nearly unbearable and left him completely breathless, and he gasped for oxygen as his lungs started to burn.
"It doesn't seem like you are stronger than me," Lucifer said with mock contemplation.
Michael pushed Lucifer's arm away, though he knew there was not much else he could do. He couldn't hurt the devil – and even if Lucifer hadn't been invincible, Michael still didn't have the strength to defend himself. But he was not going to just lie there and allow Lucifer to gloat.
"I watched, you know," Lucifer said. "When Darius held a knife to your throat all those millennia ago… I was betting on him." He paused. "I was wrong. I should have been betting on you."
"We both made it out alive," Michael answered.
"Because of you. If Darius had had his way, you would have been dead. All of you."
Michael closed his eyes and tried not to remember.
But his mind would never let him forget.
That civil war had been far worse than anything he had ever experienced before or after. Elder turned against Elder, white-lighters and witches dying every day, anger and mistrust and grief his constant companions. It had raged for a year before an end had finally come, and even after obtaining that hard-won peace, the magical community had been left in shambles.
A faint shadow, an echo, of its formal self.
He had never forgotten those dark days. None of them had – and if the oldest Elders were less than willing to trust Leo now, perhaps the memory of the war was to blame.
"The last time you faced a crisis such as this, Leo helped to hide you from the Titans," Lucifer commented. "I wonder who will help you now."
Michael gritted his teeth. "Did you…" he started to ask the question, but a spasm of pain cut off the rest of the words and he bit back a cry.
He didn't need to finish the question, though. Lucifer already understood.
"Did I send the Titans after you?" Lucifer shook his head. "Don't be ridiculous, Michael. I'm not actually responsible for every bad things that happens in your world," he paused, "though I admit that I would like to be able to take credit for all of it. Unfortunately, I can't lie."
Darkness encroached on Michael's vision. He was rapidly running out of time.
"I'm the beginning of all evil, Michael," Lucifer said. " But I'm not the creator of it. All that anger and self-righteous suspicion in Darius… that isn't me. That is entirely him."
"You played on his fears," Michael whispered tiredly. "All those millennia ago…"
"I did," Lucifer agreed. "But he made his own choices. I played you, too, and you made very different choices. So you can't give me all the blame for the person Darius was then… or for the person he is becoming now." His lips curled into a smile once more, and blue eyes glittered with triumph. "We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell."
Michael raised an eyebrow.
"Oscar Wilde," the devil explained, attributing the quote. At Michael's look of surprise, he said, "Being the devil doesn't mean that I can't appreciate good literature." He crouched down next to Michael once more, and wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the poisoned blade. "And so we come full circle. You ended my last civil war prematurely, and I promised you that I would destroy you and everything you loved, everything you had worked to rebuild. And now I have."
Without waiting for a response, Lucifer dragged the blade upwards, into Michael's heart. The movement was so swift, so sudden, that the Elder had no time to even cry out before his eyes glazed over and death took him.
Lucifer pulled the blade out of the dead body and stared at it contemplatively. Then he dropped it onto the blood-stained white marble and wiped his hands on his slacks.
"Well… that was fun," he said.
Then he slipped his sunglasses on and disappeared.