Interlude: Angelic Grace

"Leo, what are you doing?"

"They're calling, Piper. I can't just…"

"It's Chris' birthday!"

"…I know."

The man – David – woke abruptly, the remnants of a dream vanishing. Sunlight poured in through the grimy window of the motel room, illuminating the dust motes floating in midair. The smell of disinfectant seeped in through the walls, and the sound of voices speaking in soft, rapid Spanish indicated the presence of the housekeeping service outside the door.

David groaned and rolled over, trying to remember the dream. It clung to the edges of his consciousness, too vague to grasp.

He yawned.

In the dream, he had been upset. Scared, even. In the dream, he'd been listening to two people argue, and he'd felt an overwhelming sadness and a painful resignation at their words. Words he couldn't remember now that he was awake. But in the dream, those words had been important. Vital.

He crawled out of bed, and the dream faded.

"Chris, buddy. You know I'd be here if I could, right."

"Yeah. Whatever."

"Chris…"

"Don't bother. I don't want another apology."

The words haunted him. He heard the argument, heard the shouts and fears and tears. They echoed in an empty hallway in the hospital. They followed him on the street. They threw themselves at him as he sat down to lunch, bounced around inside his head as he ate dinner. They taunted him constantly.

And yet every time he reached for them, every time he tried to hold onto them, to remember them, to think about them, they slipped away.

And he was left with an emptiness in his chest that kept growing minute by minute, reminding him that there was something he had lost, something he might be able to find again, if only he could remember it.

All he could feel was pain. It started in his chest and spread outwards, like the red dampness on his shirt. He heard shouting above him, and felt arms wrapped around him tightly, too tightly, but it all paled in comparison to this immeasurable pain.

"Chris, sweetie…"

The whispered words just barely penetrated the thick cloud of pain surrounding his thoughts. There was a hand on his forehead and another on his knee, but his chest hurt so badly and just he couldn't…

"It's okay, buddy," a deeper voice said, and something gold filled his vision, glowing and warm. "I've got you," the deep voice continued. "You're going to be fine. I'm right here. I've got you."

The gold soaked into his chest and then spread through his body until it reached the tips of his fingers and the bottoms of his toes. He could feel it warming him, and chasing the pain away. It was bright – almost too bright – and it was growing hotter. But it made him feel safe.

After the gold ebbed away, he found himself held tightly in his mother's arms. She was clutching him, her fingers running over his chest frantically, tears pooled in her brown eyes.

"Mommy?"

"You're okay, sweetie," she murmured, leaning forward and pressing a kiss onto his forehead. Her long hair fell over his face, tickling his skin. "You're okay."

He squirmed out of her grip. He felt fine now, he didn't understand what all the fuss was about. There was still something red and wet on his shirt, but the pain was gone. So why was his mother still looking at him like that?

His father ruffled his hair. "Come on, Chris," he said, rising to his feet and extending his hand. "Let's go get you a different shirt." His father glanced at his mother. "He's fine, Piper," he said softly. "See. He's fine."

His mother blinked back tears and didn't reply.

Later, much later, Chris couldn't sleep. He crept out of bed, careful not to wake Wyatt, and tiptoed to the door of the bedroom. It was dark, but the house was old, and it made all the old-house sounds. The creaking and the groans, and the other noises Chris would listen to whenever he lay awake in bed.

But there were other sounds, too. His mother and father were talking, and their voices drifted up from the floor below.

He knew he'd be in trouble if he was caught listening to an adult conversation. Even more trouble than if he was just caught out of bed, playing with his toys or something.

But even at five years of age, he wasn't particularly good at following the rules.

He walked silently along the hallway to the staircase, and sat down in the shadows, listening.

"… a new Source." That was his father's deep, calm voice.

"Great. Just great," his mother replied, tense and – frightened? Chris shivered. He'd never heard his mother frightened. "So what does this mean? The Underworld has declared whoever kills our son can become the next Source?"

"Well, in the past, killing the Charmed Ones was viewed as the way to prove supremacy. The Elders think that – since that plan hadn't been very successful in the past – the Underworld has moved on to what they believe are easier targets."

"It was successful enough when they murdered Prue!"

Chris blinked at that comment, at the new voice that had spoken. When had his Aunt Phoebe arrived?

"Except it didn't destroy the Charmed Ones, and you did managed to vanquish both Shax and the old Source."

"So we're supposed to consider Prue's death a success for us?"

"Piper, you know that's not what I meant."

A sigh. "I know, Leo. I'm sorry." A pause. "I just… if you hadn't shown up right when you did, Chris could have died."

"But Leo did show up, sweetie. You called for him, and he came, and he healed Chris."

That was his Aunt Paige. Whatever they were talking about, he knew it must be really serious if both his aunts were there.

"Paige is right. Chris is fine – for now. But the demons will keep coming. And, Phoebe…"

"My unborn child will be in danger, too? I know. Believe me, I know." Chair legs scraped on the floor as someone settled into a seat. "So what do we do?"

"We can't just sit here and wait for every demon, warlock, and dark-lighter to attack. We need to take the fight to them. We need to make them understand that this plan won't work for them, either."

"The Elders actually think you should hold back for now."

"What?" All three voices came together then. Chris could tell his mother and aunts were not happy with what his father had said, though he didn't understand why. He didn't know much about the Elders, but he knew that his father worked for them, and that they were Good. So why would his mother be so upset by their advice?

"If the Underworld is organizing, it would be dangerous to attack without knowing more."

"It's pretty dangerous doing nothing, too."

A sigh. "I know. I don't like doing nothing, either, Piper. A demon very nearly killed my son. But the Elders are not wrong that rushing into this could be problematic. The Underworld has gotten smarter in the past several years. They aren't as… piecemeal… as they used to be, and we can't treat them like they are."

"Well, look at you, Leo. Turning into quite the strategist."

"Um… thanks, Paige?"

"I agree with Piper. We can't wait forever. In case you haven't noticed, I'm very pregnant, which makes any kind of physical combat hard. And it's only going to get harder over the next two months."

"Yeah, and that is a reason why we can't take you into a fight with the Underworld right now, Phoebe. You don't have a force-field to protect you."

"Well, I can't hide at Magic School forever. Not if demons are targeting my nephews."

"…maybe we should send Chris and Wyatt to Magic School for now?"

There was a silence, and Chris bit his lip anxiously. He didn't like his mother's suggestion. He didn't want to go to Magic School. Kids who went to Magic School lived in the dormitories there, and didn't get to see their nonmagical friends. He liked his friends. He didn't want to leave them.

Although, Wyatt would be there. Maybe Magic School wouldn't be so bad if Wyatt was there.

"Let's not do anything hasty yet. We can put up more wards around Chris and Wyatt's bedroom. Leo can check in with the Elders again, and Piper and I can track down this demon that attacked Chris and vanquish it. And Phoebe can find out if Chris and Wyatt can stay at Magic School temporarily. Just to make sure we have every option covered. And then we can figure out what to do."

"Yeah… okay."

"Fine."

"Mm… I guess that works. Paige, can you drop me off at Magic School on your way home?"

"Of course. And Piper, we're just a call away if you need us."

"I know. Thank you."

There was a silence, and then the sound of shuffling footsteps, and Chris drew back quickly as his mother and father stepped out of the dining area and into view. His mother was walking ahead, moving towards the stairs, but his father caught her shoulder and pulled her back towards him. He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly, and she pressed her face into his chest.

"I'll come when you call, Piper. For you, for Wyatt, for Chris. I'll always come when you call," he promised.

"I know," she replied, her voice muffled. "But seeing Chris like that… I was scared Leo. I was terrified. I haven't been that scared since Wyatt…" She trailed off.

Chris frowned. Since Wyatt what? What had happened to Wyatt that could scare their mother so much? Wyatt was awesome and he knew so much stuff and he was cool… and…

Wyatt was his big brother. Wyatt was practically invincible, like a superhero. What could have ever happened to him?

"We got Wyatt back," Chris' father said. "And we will protect both him and Chris. I promise you, Piper; nothing will happen to either of them. We won't let it."

David stared at the computer screen. The dreams had all but completely faded, but a few words had remained. Typing Chris into Google hadn't given him any leads – not that he really thought it would – and searching with the word demon had brought up several Wiccan and Christian sites, none of which looked even remotely familiar. A quick Google search of Elders had given him several dictionary definitions and a couple of nonprofit organizations.

Nothing useful.

He chewed his lip and glanced around the library. He could ask a librarian for help, but he wasn't sure how he would format that question.

Hi, I'm looking for a connection between the name Chris and the words demon and Elders.

It sounded stupid in his head; he doubted it would sound any better if he said it aloud.

He tapped his fingers on the edge of the keyboard, thinking. The dreams might be nothing at all. Perhaps he was following a false trail. Perhaps it was going to take him down the rabbit hole instead of back to his previous life.

Still…

It was the only clue he had. He couldn't just give up.

He pulled up a search engine for newspaper articles and typed in the word Chris. He tried narrowing down the time range, but the search term still yielded hundreds of results.

He added the words demon and Elders.

That brought back zero results.

He glanced at the clock on the computer screen. It was almost time for him to be at work, and so, with a discouraged sigh, he shut down the web browser and logged off the computer.

"Chris, wait. Chris!"

Twelve-year-old Chris spun around to glare at his father. "For what?" he snapped. "Another apology? A letter? Don't bother, Dad. I know what it's going to say."

Leo was staring at him with such a contrite look in his eyes, it made Chris want to scream. Did he really think he could show up now and make it all better? He was too late – he was always too late.

"Chris, I couldn't. The Elders…"

"The Elders wouldn't let you," Chris interrupted. "I know, Dad. I've heard this speech before."

"I would have been here if I could," Leo said softly. "Please, Chris. You have to believe me."

Chris scoffed. He didn't have to do anything, and he certainly didn't have to believe a single word that came out of his father's mouth. He'd heard far too many broken promises and belated apologies to care.

"Why don't you go hang out with Wyatt? He's generally the one you come to see," Chris grumbled.

"That isn't true," Leo protested. "I visit both of you equally."

"You mean you miss our birthdays equally," Chris retorted. "You skip out on my soccer games and Wyatt's basketball games equally. You forget our school plays and parent-teacher meetings and family dinners equally." He turned his back on his father. "But Wyatt, at least, you help train in his powers. I guess mine just aren't that important."

Leo caught his arm. "Chris, you are every bit as important to me as Wyatt is."

Chris wheeled around. "Then why do you visit Wyatt all the time? Why do you always talk magical theory with him? Why do you always help him master whatever new power-of-the-month he develops? Why are you always here for him?"

He wanted to sound angry. He wanted to sound accusing. He wanted to sound judgmental.

He hated that he just sounded desperate.

The door to the kitchen opened at that moment, and Piper stepped into the room. Chris turned to face her just as she caught sight of Leo and raised her eyebrows in surprise. Aware of her son's presence, she forced a smile to her lips, but her eyes were hard and flat.

"Leo," she greeted him, her tone a touch cold. "You made it."

Leo nodded glumly. "Sorry I'm late," he said.

Piper's smile turned brittle. "Work with the other Elders, I assume?" She turned her attention to Chris, and her smile became warm. "Chris, why don't you go get Wyatt? You two and your father can have some dessert."

"It's the middle of the day," Chris said sourly. "You never let us have dessert in the middle of the day." It wasn't that he didn't appreciate his mother's attempts to cheer him up, but did she really think she could make up for Leo's faults with cake?

Piper pursed her lips. "Do you not want the cake, then? You don't want chocolate-mint decadence with a chocolate cream ganache filling?"

Chris grinned. Okay, maybe his mother could fix some things with cake.

He hurried from the kitchen, intent on calling for Wyatt, but as the door closed behind him, he heard Piper say, "You can't keep doing this, Leo. You can't show up three days late and expect everything to be alright."

Chris paused to listen to his father's reply.

"Would you rather I not come at all?"

"I'd rather you actually put in the effort to be here on time."

"I am trying, Piper. You know that. It isn't about a lack of effort or desire. I want to be here. I just… can't."

"And you know what, Leo? That's not good enough. That stopped being good enough the first time you missed Chris' birthday six years ago."

David woke up desperately wanting cake.

"Don't be stupid, Dad. Wyatt isn't turning evil."

Leo ran a hand through his hair. "I didn't say Wyatt was turning evil, Chris," he said softly. "I didn't even – I'm not suggesting that. I'm not even thinking that. I'm not." He closed his eyes, and Chris could see the pain etched into every line of his father's face.

He found he didn't care.

He didn't care that his father had loved his mother. He didn't care that his father was grieving. What did any of it matter? All this empathy his father professed – all this sorrow, all this love – it was too late.

He was always too late.

"I'm worried about Wyatt. Ever since... ever since your mother died…"

"Was killed, you mean," Chris interjected, green eyes cold as ice. "Murdered. Ever since the demons murdered her." He took a step backwards, putting more distance in between himself and his father. He almost turned to go, to storm out of the sunroom. He had nothing to say to Leo, and Leo had nothing to say that Chris would care to hear.

But Leo said, "Wyatt has been reckless. Rash. Wild. He hasn't… he's not himself."

"Of course he's not himself," Chris snarled. "Our mother was murdered by demons three weeks ago! What were you expecting – that we'd sit around and meditate and everything would be alright?"

Leo had gone extraordinary pale the first time Chris used the word murdered, and now he staggered backwards and placed a hand on the wicker loveseat at his side to keep himself steady.

In a tone of forced calm, he said, "I'm worried that if Wyatt doesn't stop what he is doing, if he doesn't turn aside from this path, we will lose him, too."

"We?" Chris echoed. "Since when are you part of this family?"

"Chris…"

"Stop it!" Chris felt the burn of tears in his eyes and quickly looked away. He would not cry in front of his father.

Leo tried a different tactic, "I've spoken to the other Elders, and they agree with me."

"What a shock," Chris deadpanned.

"Chris – listen. No one wants to do anything drastic right now, and we understand that Wyatt is grieving, but…"

"We? So now you're here as a representative of the Elders? God, Dad, would you even have come to visit me if they hadn't sent you?"

"Of course, Chris. But I…"

"Then why have you only stopped by twice since Mom's funeral?"

Leo shook his head wordlessly. He opened his mouth, and then snapped it shut with a heavy sigh. He fumbled for the right words, and finally said, "I… it's… it's complicated. I can't… the Elders don't… we don't think…"

"Nobody cares!" Chris interrupted furiously. "Nobody cares what the Elders think. Don't you get it? Nobody cares about any of you! You are so… so… useless."

Leo said nothing. He didn't even try to offer a defense. Instead, his shoulders sagged in defeat.

"I don't… I can't…" Chris wasn't sure what he was trying to say. The words were stuck in his throat, and even if he could have forced them past the lump that had formed, he doubted they would have been coherent.

"I'm sorry," Leo offered. "I am so sorry, Chris. I truly am."

Chris wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, angrily brushing away tears. He knew Leo was sorry. No matter how complicated and hostile the relationship between his parents occasionally became, he was under no delusions about how much his father had loved his mother. He knew perfectly well that Piper's death was slowly devastating Leo, destroying him from the inside out.

It was destroying all of them.

But he didn't care.

His mother had fought the good fight over and over again. Every threat the Elders had ever mentioned, every rising evil in the Underworld, his mother and his aunts had faced without flinching and without backing down. And what had it gotten them, any of them? What had this family's dedication ever gotten Chris, except a father who was never around and a mother who had bled to death on the kitchen floor?

Leo had shown up, of course. Chris had started screaming his head off for his father, and Leo had shown up. Maybe that should have counted for something – but Piper was already gone at that point, and even the Elders couldn't bring back the dead.

"You're too late, Dad," he said aloud. "You're always too late."

He felt angry.

He woke with the feeling clouding his thoughts. In the moment after waking, his dreams were vivid, stark. Before it all faded away, before the nothingness filled his mind again, he felt the frustration spark in his chest. For that brief second, he felt livid and unhappy and dejected and so intensely alive.

And it all faded. Everything faded.

He slid out of bed and got dressed.

The doctor had said he might started regaining his memories at any moment, but even if these snippets were actually his and not merely his mind playing tricks on him, it didn't seem to be doing him any good. It didn't tell him anything, didn't help him in anyway.

It just left him feeling alone.

He walked over to the window and stared out at the parking lot in which he'd seen a woman murdered. He hadn't been able to help her, and the image of the stranger disappearing into thin air stayed etched in his mind. How was it possible?

He rubbed his fingers together. He'd given his prints to the police, and it had done no good. He supposed it should be some relief that he wasn't in their database. It meant he didn't have a criminal record, hadn't even been a suspect in a previous crime. Whatever his life had been like in the past, it must have been somewhat virtuous. At least he wasn't a criminal.

Or, possibly, he just hadn't ever been caught.

That was not a particularly comforting thought.

He glanced up. The plaster above him was cracked, fissures spreading out like spiderwebs across his ceiling.

"Please," he whispered. "I just want to remember."

"Do you remember our wedding day?"

"Not one of those things I'm likely to forget, Piper."

"The Elders let my mother come. She was part of my wedding because of them."

Five-year-old Chris pushed his oatmeal around in his bowl. His parents were talking in hushed whispers by the counter; clearly, he was not supposed to be listening. He wasn't particularly interested. They'd been doing this a lot in the couple months since the time the demons had attacked and hurt him and his father had healed him, and it was never very interesting.

This time, though, his mother sounded sad.

"They are Good, Piper. They care. I know… I know it doesn't always seem like it. Especially right now. But they do care."

"I used to believe that. I don't know if I do anymore." There was a pause, then Chris' mother said, "I mean – I do believe that they are Good. But… they're big-picture Good. They're save-the-world Good. They're not… I don't know, Leo. I don't know that they care about us. I don't know that they care about all the people who get hurt fighting Evil. I think they just care about winning."

"If they lose, everybody gets hurt."

"…I know."

Chris took a bite of oatmeal. He hated oatmeal.

He didn't particularly like how sad his mother sounded, either. He considered giving her a hug to make her feel better, but then she and his father would probably stop talking about this. And Chris wanted them to keep talking about the Elders. He liked hearing about them.

"If you agree to what the Elders are asking… this deal, Leo…"

"If it works, all the demons that have tried to hurt our sons these past two months get vanquished. Phoebe can give birth without fearing that some warlock will swoop in and steal her daughter. Piper, if this works, we will set the Underworld back by at least a decade. Our sons will be safe."

"There will still be some evil out there, Leo. There will always be demons out there."

"Yes. But not the most powerful ones. It will takes years for the Underworld to build itself up, and by that time, Chris and Wyatt will be stronger. They won't be children at that point – and if they get attacked, they will be able to fight back."

"So you want to do this?"

Another pause. "No. Of course I don't want to do this, Piper. What I would have to give up… I don't want to be an Elder. But… I want to protect Wyatt and Chris. More than anything in the world, I want to keep them safe."

"I know."

"Besides, the Elders promised they wouldn't take me away permanently. I'd still see all of you all the time."

"What they said was that you could see us whenever there wasn't an emergency. But what if there is always an emergency? Or what if they change their minds? They could do that, you know. Once you make the deal, you can't go back on it."

"I trust them."

"I know. But I don't. If they really cared about individual people and not just the bigger picture, Leo, they wouldn't be asking you to do this."

"But what if the bigger picture is that this protects Wyatt and Chris? What if the bigger picture is that this protects Paige and Henry and Phoebe and Coop and all your future nieces and nephews? Wouldn't that make the sacrifice worth it?"

There was a third, final pause, much longer than the other two, and although Chris didn't understand what was being talked about, even he was holding his breath, waiting for his mother's answer.

"…yes."

This time, David woke up with the name Halliwell on his lips.