[Wednesday, November 20, 2019]

Chris's vision returned in drips and drabs. First came his sense of light and shadow. He watched the dim glow of torchlight flicker along the wall until his eyes began to tear up and stream. He held his breath as long as he could, afraid if he lost concentration perhaps his sight would fail him again. But the light grew steadily brighter. When he woke up hours later—when had he fallen asleep?—he could discern vague outlines of shapes, blurry but there.

When some time later he heard the key grinding against the lock, he tried to feign sleep. The ruse didn't help. A rough pair of hands shook him as the minion instructed, "Stand."

Without thinking twice Chris did as he was told. Or tried to. His legs trembled for a moment and then gave out entirely. The demon grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and growled, "I said stand."

Irritated, and still somewhat hazy, Chris snapped, "I can't."

The minion seemed unsure how to proceed with this new piece of information. After a moment, he heaved Chris up again and half-supported, half-dragged the prisoner out of his cage. Chris was led back to the previous room, where Bar-shed was peering into the healing pool as if reading something of great interest. Before him stood a plain wooden stool. On the rim of the pool sat an ornate metal case, lid ajar. As Chris drew nearer, he saw four indentations inside shaped for tiny potion vials. Three contained exactly that, two black potions and one a pale orange; the fourth space lay empty.

"Sit," Bar-shed commanded, pointing Chris to the stool. Chris's legs were in motion before he could think. The minion at his arm helped heave him to his seat.

"Do you know how much time has passed?" Bar-shed asked, almost conversationally.

Chris blinked. Time? What was that? "No," he said at length, voice still raspy from the potion's effects.

"It has been twenty-four hours since your first consumption. For maximum effect you will ingest the second one now." A long finger tapped against one of the black vials. Chris almost couldn't draw his eyes away.

"I don't want it to be effective," Chris reminded his captor matter-of-factly. "I'm not on your side, remember?"

Bar-shed let out a deep, rumbling laugh. "Your opinion has no value," he replied. Then, to the minion who had stood behind Chris's stool until that point, "Hold him down."

Chris scrambled for something that would stop this and landed on a rather inconsequential thought. "Wait..." he said. To his surprise, Bar-shed signaled to his minion to halt. "Where's... the other one? The other demon guy."

Bar-shed sneered. "You're losing your touch, boy. Two days ago you would have noticed his absence immediately."

"I'm being drugged," Chris pointed out.

"That you are," Bar-shed said agreeably, and waved the minion forward again. The demon easily overpowered Chris's feeble defense and dragged him toward Bar-shed. Meanwhile, Bar-shed carefully lifted one of the black vials into his hands. In answer to Chris's original question, he said, "The other demon has been... discharged."

"Vanquished, you mean," Chris grunted past gritted teeth. His chin was forced up into a now-familiar position, his jaw pried apart.

"Disposed of," Bar-shed corrected. He shook the vial a few inches from his eye to assess the liquid inside it. "I found his aggression toward his ward... detrimental to my ultimate goal."

"His ward?" Chris echoed in confusion.

Bar-shed's arms spread out wide. "My, my, if you could only see yourself now. Where has your mind gone, whitelighter?" When Chris said nothing, he explained, "You were his ward. He took a disliking to you—I am not surprised. But it did not suit my purposes. Not to worry, we will soon change that dislikeable nature of yours."

"Over my dead body," Chris ground out.

Smirking, Bar-shed said, "Nothing so extreme will be necessary," before uncorking the vial and moving to administer it. When Chris yanked half-heartedly at the arms pinning him down, Bar-shed frowned. "Boy, it would behoove you to heed my words. The less you reject the potion, the less the potion rejects you. Just drink it and be done."

The liquid was tipped into Chris's mouth. Although he wanted to struggle, he found he didn't have enough energy to refuse to swallow. He tensed in the demon's grip, bracing for the burning sensation sure to come. This time, however, the potion left only a mildly bitter aftertaste as it passed through his esophagus. He began to cough as the demon finally released him.

"There," Bar-shed said calmly. "Now, wasn't that easier?"

Piper and Leo were in the attic, the two sisters long having been sent home for the night, when an intruder graced their presence. An impossibly tall, well-muscled creature with bright red hair pulled into a ponytail shimmered in across the room.

Piper, who had been scrying over a home-drawn map that they had once made of some parts of the Underworld, instantly dropped the crystal and stood. "Oh, you picked the wrong day to come after me and mine," she snapped, raising her hands in a fluid motion. Beside her on the couch, Leo jumped up as well.

"Wait!" the demon cried. "I'm here about your son." When Piper hesitated, the demon rushed to continue, "My master sent me to help you get him back."

Piper narrowed her eyes. "Who's your master?"

"Why does he want to help?" Leo added suspiciously.

"His reasons are his own. It is not my place to say. He has sent me with a name."

"A name," Piper repeated.

"Yes," he replied, ducking his head in a nod, "Of the demon who took your boy. She is called Shed'avi. She has a brother, Bar-shed. They are working together."

Piper took a threatening step forward, her expression hard, even as Leo swooped over to the Book of Shadows to begin the search for those names. "Why should we trust this master of yours? How do we know he didn't orchestrate all this himself? He seems to have an awful lot of information for someone who claims to be uninvolved."

In a gesture of surrender, the demon raised his hands. "The twins' plans… don't align with my master's. This is why he sends me. A gesture of goodwill."

"Yeah," Piper retorted without lowering her hands, "because demons are known for their goodwill."

The demon lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "Do with the information what you will. Just remember it: Shed'avi and Bar-shed." Before Piper could blink, the demon had vanished.

Impossibly early the next morning, Prue found herself creeping downstairs in her pajamas to brew a cup of coffee. Once it finished, she poured it into a mug, stirred in two teaspoons of sugar, and added a splash of milk. On her way back upstairs she skipped the creaky step on the second landing. The attic door whined as she pushed it open with her free hand.

"Dad?"

There he lay, sprawled out on the couch with the Book of Shadows upturned on his chest, rising and falling with every breath. Prue inched farther into the room. "Dad?" she called again.

This time he shifted, grunting something unintelligible and blinking his eyes owlishly. Prue set the mug on the table beside him. "I brought you some coffee to help you stay awake," she half-whispered into the silence.

Leo scrubbed a hand down his face, then pushed the Book down to his lap so he could sit up. "Thank you, Prue," he groaned.

In front of him Prue shifted from one foot to the other. "Do you want me to take over for a bit?" she offered, biting her lip.

Leo tried to smile. "No, sweetheart. You go back to sleep."

"Dad, it's six fifteen in the morning." Her eyes strayed to the window, where gray light had started to trickle upward into the sky. The silhouettes of clouds were tinged blush and lavender.

"Oh." Leo seemed to need a moment to process this. He reached for the cup of coffee, sliding the Book to the couch cushion beside him as he did so. "Well, you should start getting ready for school, then. Did you have breakfast?" He took a long, grateful sip from the mug, letting the sides warm his chilled fingers.

"Dad." Prue closed stinging eyes and hugged herself by the elbows. "I don't want to go to school today. I want to stay here and help."

"Sweetheart, come here." Leo set down the mug. He held out his arms and watched as Prue folded into them, sitting down beside him and tucking her face under his chin. She sniffled into his chest. "We'll find him. The best thing you can do is go to school."

"You just want me out of the way," she mumbled, voice muffled in his shirt.

Leo stroked the top of her head. "That's not true, kiddo. We just need to know we don't have to worry about you or Wyatt until this is all over." He pulled her shoulders back so he could look her in the eye. "And it will be over, I promise." He tugged her back to his chest and wrapped her tightly in his arms.

They sat like that for a few minutes until Piper and Wyatt joined them. Wyatt had already dressed for school, and Piper still wore her clothes from the previous night.

For a moment Piper said nothing, her expression beginning to crumble as she watched her daughter. Then, she sucked in a breath, tightened her face, and stepped forward. "There you are. Did you sleep at all?"

"Some," Leo admitted as Prue drew back, self-consciously drying her face with her sleeve. Her brothers often teased her for getting overly emotional, but one glance at Wyatt told her that wouldn't happen today. "Have you updated your sisters about last night?" Leo asked.

"Not yet," Piper answered, "Wyatt's going to pick them up now."

Wyatt nodded and, without a word, disappeared in a flurry of orbs. He rematerialized in Paige's apartment first, right in front of her slumbering form on the living room sofa. In her sleep she had wrapped a protective arm across her expanded belly. Someone had draped a blanket over her.

Wyatt felt a twinge at the thought that, in her exhaustion, she had not even made it to her bed last night. But the priority of finding Chris as quickly as possible drowned out his sympathy. "Aunt Paige, wake up."

Paige shifted, rubbing her eyes with a bent knuckle. "Is it six thirty already?" she yawned, curling deeper into the blanket. She squinted up at him.

"Almost," he said impatiently. "And I still have to pick up Aunt Phoebe, so if you don't mind…"

There was enough tension that she couldn't fault him for his curt tone; they were all on edge. "I'm up, go ahead," she replied, sitting up and letting the blanket fall from her shoulders. "I'll get dressed and orb over." Wyatt nodded and orbed to his next destination.

The next time the minion came to collect him, Chris was standing at the door waiting for him. "It's about time," he grumbled. "I've been in here for ages—don't touch me." He jerked his arm away from the minion and marched off down the corridor himself. The minion trailed uncomfortably behind him as he entered the main cave.

"Let me guess," Chris said to Bar-shed's back, "Another gross potion."

Bar-shed said nothing. Instead he turned around with a smirk, tilting the third black potion this way and that between his thumb and forefinger. He uncorked it and held it out to Chris expectantly.

"This is so stupid," Chris scoffed, but he dutifully snatched up the vial. "Your potions won't work."

Bar-shed bared his teeth in a grin and said only, "Indeed."

"Yeah. You're wasting your time." Raising the potion in a mocking toast, Chris downed it in a single gulp. The sweet aftertaste lingered on his tongue. "Finally, one that doesn't taste disgusting. You should've started with that one."

Bar-shed stepped closer. "They were all the same," he sneered. "You are different. Now"—he leaned forward—"are you ready?"

Unimpressed, Chris backed up and crossed his arms. "For what?"

"For the final transformation." To the minion he ordered, "Bring in the sacrifice."

The "sacrifice" turned out to be an older witch in her early sixties. She had short-cropped silver hair and hazel eyes. She wore jeans and a sweatshirt. Her face was puffy from crying and eyes were wide with fear. The minion dragged her in by the shackles around her wrists. She was shoved the last few steps, sending her sprawling at Chris's feet.

Frowning, Chris stepped back. "What is this?"

From behind him reached a hand, slender fingers curling around his shoulder. "You need her blood," Shed'avi whispered into his ear. Her other hand reached around him and settled a weight into his open palm. It was the hilt of a silver dagger, glinting in the torchlight. "Go on," Shed'avi urged, then playfully sank her teeth into his earlobe.

Bar'shed frowned at his sister as Chris yanked his head free. "Enough. Let him get on with it." He motioned the whitelighter forward.

Chris stepped out of Shed'avi's hold and knelt in front of the fallen witch. She was sobbing quietly. "Please, please," she hiccupped over and over. With two fingers beneath her chin, Chris tipped her head up to meet her teary eyes. Something feral uncurled in his chest.

"It's okay," he whispered to her. Her tears slowed, eyes glittered with a hopeful light. In one fluid motion, the hand with the dagger swiped deeply across her exposed neck, severing her carotid artery. Hot blood sprayed over Chris's face and chest, across his nose and into his barely parted lips. He licked them. The woman released a gasp, her eyes still wide with hope as her body pitched forward into him. Chris smiled, running a hand through her hair, and said again, "It's okay."

From behind him Bar-shed said, "Very good. Now her blood."

The minion clasped the dead woman around the shoulders and drew her away from Chris. He dragged her over to Bar-shed, grasping her by the hair and tugging upward to bare the wound Chris had inflicted.

Bar-shed delicately popped the pale orange potion out of the last indentation of the metal box. He eased out its cork and held the open vial against the dead witch's skin, just below the gash in her neck. A thin line of blood trickled through the opening and down the wall of the vial.

Placing his thumb on top to seal it, Bar-shed gave the potion a vigorous shake to blend it completely with the blood. The pale orange swirled and darkened until it came away as black as the first three potions in the case. Chris watched, mesmerized.

After the orange had fully faded, Bar-shed made his way over to Chris, who stood up without a word. The demon extended his hand, palm-up, with the vial. Without hesitation, Chris accepted it and downed its contents. When the vial was empty, a wave of pale blue washed over the boy. For the first time in days Chris felt the tickle of his powers back at his fingertips.

"Are you ready now for your assignment?" Bar-shed asked.

"Are you kidding?" Chris retorted, "I've been itching to leave since I got here. You're the one who blocked my powers."

Bar-shed frowned. "Impertinent still."

Chris just smirked. "I told you you couldn't change me. So what's this 'assignment'?" He wiggled his fingers just to test out his powers, watching the dead witch's hair ruffle as if from a gentle breeze.

"Get me the Halliwell Book of Shadows."

A lazy grin crept over Chris's face. He twisted the dagger in his hand. "I think I can manage that." Without another word, the boy orbed away.

"That whitelighter had better not fail us," Bar-shed growled.

"You know," Shed'avi remarked, coming to stand beside her brother, "He's not really a whitelighter anymore. He's practically even a demon." She smiled fondly as she draped her arm across Bar-shed's shoulders. "A very pretty almost-demon."

Scowling, Bar-shed shook her off. "Once he returns with the Book, we eliminate him," he snapped. "No loose ends." He stormed off as Shed'avi pouted at his retreating back.

Leo awoke slowly to the quiet attic. The last thing he remembered, the sisters had been rechecking the Book for any clues he may have missed the night before. He must have dozed off briefly. Now, the Book of Shadows was gone from its lectern and the room was silent and almost empty. Only Piper remained, standing at the shallow bronze bowl where they sometimes brewed their potions. She had an array of ingredients spread out across the table and was busy chopping some type of twig into tiny pieces.

"Where are Phoebe and Paige?" Leo asked as he sat up and stretched the kinks from his neck. "They were here a minute ago."

Piper looked up and smiled slightly. "No, they were here a couple hours ago," she corrected. "You fell asleep while we were brainstorming ideas. They went downstairs so we could let you sleep. You were right. Nothing on Shed'avi or Bar-shed in the Book."

"You should have woken me," Leo protested, coming to join her at the table.

Piper scooped up what she had chopped and dumped it all into the bowl, dusting off her hands in the process. "You should sleep," she said with a frown. "You were up most of last night and all of the night before."

"We need to find Chris," Leo insisted. He tried to bite down on an inconveniently-timed yawn but failed. Piper raised an eyebrow meaningfully.

"You won't be any help to Chris if you pass out from exhaustion. We'll call you if"—she bit her lip—"when we find something. I promise. Please, Leo."

Leo sighed, stepping back. "All right. But wake me the moment there's any news—anything."

Piper leaned forward to kiss his cheek. "We will," she assured him.

As Leo half-stumbled to their bedroom for a much-needed nap, Piper headed downstairs to usher her sisters back up to the attic. They had spread out in the living room with the Book, more scrying materials, and loose pages with partially written spells. While they were collecting everything, first Wyatt and then Prue returned home from school. Piper found herself blinking suddenly stinging eyes. Chris should have been getting home now, too.

Stop it, she chastised herself. That won't help anything. Instead, she forced herself to ask, voice hushed, "Do you kids want anything to eat?"

Phoebe frowned up at Prue as she gathered the map and scrying crystal into her arms. "Sweetie, you okay?" She had obviously sensed something.

"I'm fine," Prue said defensively.

"It's going to be okay, sweetheart," Piper said gently. Instinctively, she reached out to cup her daughter's cheek, but Prue batted the hand away.

She couldn't take these hushed voices, the grave tones, the hyper-concerned questions. Finally, after four days of emotions welling up inside her, Prue burst into tears. "Would you all stop acting like he's dead already!" She turned and fled up the stairs. They heard her bedroom door slam.

It was Wyatt who broke the silence. "I'll go talk to her," he offered, meekly following her upstairs.

Piper sighed heavily. She wanted to go herself, but her son was still missing. Everything else paled in comparison. Pressing her eyes shut with her fingers, she forced herself to refocus. "Anything new?" she asked her sisters.

Phoebe shook her head. "I tried using his favorite jacket to scry, but…" She motioned helplessly at the jacket draped over the couch. "Nothing. Wherever they're keeping him, he's obviously heavily cloaked." She left out the other option: that there was nothing to find. "I was about to try his knapsack—maybe, since he uses it more…"

"I'll do it," Piper said. "I'm his mother." The three headed upstairs to settle back into the attic.

Meanwhile, Wyatt slipped into Prue's room to find his sister lying facedown on her bed, her hands resting above her on the pillow. "Prue…" he said softly.

"Go away," Prue snapped into her pillow. "Leave me alone."

"Prue, you're totally right about everything." Hearing that was unusual enough to make her sit up on her knees and stare at him through watery eyes. "Everyone's acting like an idiot," he continued, "But we don't know anything really terrible happened. If the demon wanted to—to hurt Chris, she could have done it at the manor. They took him for a reason."

Prue sniffed and mopped her eyes with the back of her sleeve. "You really believe that?"

"Yeah," Wyatt said with confidence he didn't have. "Plus, this is Chris we're talking about. The most annoying brother ever. He's probably driving that demon crazy."

Despite herself, Prue smiled. "You're pretty annoying, too, y'know."

Wyatt gasped with mock affront. "Excuse me?" he cried, plopping himself down on the bed beside her. He pulled her toward him and began tickling her mercilessly under the ribs until tears sprouted from her eyes again.

"Okay! Okay!" she gasped. "I take it back!"

Grinning, Wyatt released her. She drew away, returning his comforting smile with a warm one of her own.

Marcy sat at her kitchen table, blinking dumbly at the test she was marking as her red pen dangled above the paper. She still had twelve more to get through, and the process was taking forever. Taking a moment to rest her eyes, she set down the pen to massage her temple.

A vaguely familiar sound, like a light tinkling, made her look up. Before her, to her surprise, stood her missing student, Chris Halliwell, looking very much the worse for wear. His face and arms were caked in grime. The front of his gray hoodie, practically shredded with one sleeve torn off at the elbow, was stained with—oh god, was that blood? There was so much! It practically saturated the entire front of the fabric. His pants, as dusty as the rest of him, had also been torn in several places. But what stuck out most of all of this was the cocky smirk at his lips.

Instantly alert, Marcy stood. "Oh my god, Chris, are you okay? What happened?" She instinctively stepped around the table and closer to her student. "Do your parents know you're here?"

Chris had one hand behind his back. The other reached out to her. "I could use your help," he said. His voice was hoarse, as if he had been screaming, but that wasn't what made Marcy hesitate. Something in his tone sounded… off somehow. She couldn't quite place why, but it made her falter just for a second.

A second was all it took. In that time, Chris had surged forward, grabbed her by the arm, and swung his hidden hand—and the dagger it held—up to her neck.

Marcy inhaled sharply. "What are you doing?" she demanded in a whisper.

"You want to know something interesting about the Charmed Ones?" Chris said, almost conversationally, "They'll do anything to protect an Innocent." Twining her hair around his free hand, he forced the witch around so that her back faced him and orbed them both away.

The Charmed Ones were busy in the attic. Piper sat with Chris's school bag and a scrying crystal while Paige and Phoebe argued over the line for a spell. They were so immersed in their work that they didn't hear the orbs that entered the room.

The mocking voice cut through what the orbs did not: "Who would have thought the mighty Charmed Ones could look so utterly defeated?"

Piper jumped up as Phoebe and Paige spun around. "Chris!" Piper cried. But something restrained her from going to him right then. It wasn't the familiar woman he had with him, wasn't even the dagger pressed to her throat, but the icy tone of his voice, devoid of every ounce of his humanity.

"Chris, what do you think you're doing?" Phoebe said slowly. Silently, she eased her powers outward, searching for a way past his defenses.

Chris hissed when he felt the tendrils of her powers. "Back up, Aunt Phoebe, unless you want to clear her blood off the walls. A thin trickle of blood made its escape beneath the collar of Marcy's shirt. Phoebe held up her hands, backing off.

"Chris, this isn't you," Piper said desperately. "Focus. They did something. Shed'avi, the demon who took you. Remember that?"

Chris laughed. "Good job, Mom. I guess you're not totally useless if you figured that part out. Too bad it won't help you." He gripped his hostage tighter until she moaned in pain. "We can do this a different way," he offered the witches magnanimously. "You give me the Book of Shadows, I let her go. Simple as that."

Paige, who had been standing closest to the lectern, shut the Book with a snap and lay a protective hand on its cover. "You know we can't do that, Chris."

"But you can let an innocent die?" he challenged. He locked eyes with his mother. "You know I'll do it, Piper. You knowme." He was right; she did know him. This was, she was certain, her Chris. Not some demonic doppelgänger, not a possessing spirit, not some scepter that controlled a person's body and mind. This was her son demanding his magical heritage, prepared to sacrifice an innocent to get it. In any world, Piper knew her son would carry out what he believed in, whatever that may be. If they didn't surrender to his demands, this woman's blood would be on their heads.

Piper raised her hands but couldn't bring herself to blast him. Chris didn't even flinch; he knew she wouldn't. "Paige, give me the Book. I swear I'll let her go if you do."

Coldly, Paige replied, "We don't make deals with demons."

"Aunt Paige, I'm hurt. I'm your nephew. The same kid I've always been. Only smarter, quicker, better."

Paige narrowed her eyes, her knuckles going white as her grip on the Book tightened. "I think you mean evil," she said.

Chris shrugged. "Call it what you want," he replied lazily, overtly adjusting his hold on the dagger so it twisted deeper into Marcy's skin. The blade glinted in the light, its touch drawing a whimper from his hostage. "'Good.' 'Evil.' They're just words. Words used by the weak. The concepts are meaningless. A distinction made by people too stupid to see what those concepts are concealing." He sneered at them, pressing his shoulders against Marcy's back as he leaned forward to taunt them. "Power. This world is about power and getting the most of it. It's about becoming the Ultimate Power."

"Don't get all philosophical with us," Phoebe scoffed impatiently. "You can't even grow a beard. We've been at this a lotlonger than you have."

Holding out her hand, Paige tried to call for the dagger. Chris jerked it back angrily, deflecting the power with his own telekinesis. "Enough!" His grip on Marcy's arm constricted painfully. "She will die—now—unless you give me the Book. You have three seconds to decide. Three…"

Frantic with fear, Marcy tried to tug herself free. She could barely shift, though, without disturbing the dagger at her throat. For a freshman who evaded most fist fights with wit and sarcasm, he was surprisingly strong. She hardly knew what she was saying, just desperate to make him stop counting, when she shouted, "Chris, let go or you'll be in detention until you're thirty!"

Chris's laughter echoed in her ears. He sounded so much like his old self when he did that that for a moment it made her dizzy with confusion. "You're amusing. I almost wish I didn't have to kill you. Two…"

"Chris, you have to fight this," Piper cried, her voice thick with emotion.

"One…"

"Okay!" Paige shouted, "Okay." She lifted the ancient tome and hurled it at Chris's feet. Chris released his prisoner, who dashed forward, and made a grab for the Book. Phoebe yanked Marcy out of harm's way just as the Book, sensing its proximity to evil, glowed and went skittering out of reach. It landed underneath the couch with a heavy thump.

"No!" Chris snarled.

"Book of Shadows!" Paige called, orbing the Book back to the safety of her arms.

Chris eyed the trio, calculating. Piper was harmless to him; her freezing powers didn't work on witches, and she wouldn't willingly use her more dangerous abilities on her son. The greatest threat to him was Paige. With a sharp wave of his arm, he sent his younger aunt flying backward. Her head hit the wall with an echoing crack! and she landed in a graceless heap, groggy but conscious.

Phoebe tugged Marcy down behind the couch, then watched with surprise as the terrified woman faded out of sight. "Handy," she remarked.

Meanwhile, Piper had stepped forward, arms raised. "Christopher Perry Halliwell, you are in big trouble!" She flicked her wrists with precision, causing a small explosion at Chris's feet. Chris stumbled backward, then again as she caused yet another explosion.

Phoebe caught sight of Leo's forgotten mug of coffee, left to cool beside the couch that morning. "Paige!" she hissed, waving her arms to get her sister's attention. She motioned toward the cup significantly.

Feeling somewhat dazed from the blow to her head, it took Paige an extra second to catch up. Finally, she called, "Mug!" and watched a swirl of orbs pick up the object and launch it straight at Chris's head. Chris was too busy trying to evade Piper's blasts to notice until it was too late. He went down hard, groaning, as shards of broken ceramic fell to the floor all around him. Tepid liquid splashed the floor at his knees.

"Crystals—circle!" The crystals kept stowed on a shelf in the attic came flying out of their box to surround the fallen teenager.

With the threat at least temporarily neutralized, Phoebe turned her focus to their innocent. She reached down uncertainly to where she had last seen Marcy. "Uh… need a hand?" she offered. She felt something solid in her grip and helped the invisible woman to her feet.

"Thanks," whispered a breathless voice beside her. Bit by bit, Marcy faded back into view, eyes wide with terror. Slowly, Chris rose to his feet. Marcy, gaze still on the threat, stumbled backwards.

"Don't worry, you're safe now," Phoebe assured, one hand on her shoulder. She gave Marcy a squeeze and a warm smile.

"Not nearly," Chris growled from his prison. "I'll get out of here and come after her first."

The Charmed Ones ignored him. "Okay, first thing's first, we gotta take her home," Paige announced, stumbling to her feet.

"Yeah, then we find out what happened to my son," Piper said.

"And how to change him back," Phoebe added.

She sensed a wave of overwhelmed emotion from Marcy just as the witch said, "How—how are you all so calm? Is this—is this normal for you?"

Phoebe gripped her shoulder firmly and met her panicked stare with steady calm. Gently, she steered Marcy to the couch and guided her onto it. "I know it's scary, but you really are in good hands. This exact thing doesn't happen every day, but we've got enough experience to know how to take care of it. Chris will be fine."

"I'll check the Book about any spells that can cause this," Paige offered, staggering toward the lectern and steadying herself against it when her vision began to swim. "Or maybe some kind of half-possession."

"Try none of the above," Chris sneered from behind the crystals.

Paige shrugged. "Or a morality-shifting potion."

"No," Chris said too quickly.

Phoebe smiled grimly. "Potion it is." Chris bared his teeth in a silent snarl. "Paige, why don't I check the Book so that you can orb—it's Marcy, isn't it?" Marcy nodded. "So that you can orb Marcy home." Sensing hesitation, she turned back to the witch. "If it'll make you more comfortable, we can set up a crystal perimeter around your house to keep out evil."

"You can do that?"

"Sure can." Phoebe sat down beside her and draped an arm across her shoulder. "We won't let anything happen to you, I promise."

Piper squinted at her baby sister. "Will you be okay to orb?" she cut in.

Paige assured her she would be, then took a few minutes to gather the necessary warding supplies, before orbing Marcy away from the commotion. Piper took a moment to dust off her jeans, then said, "I'm going to go wake Leo. I promised I would if we found something, and this"—she waved her hand to encompass the whole attic—"is a pretty big something."

"Where is he now?" Leo demanded, still half-asleep and already headed toward the bedroom door.

"Leo." Piper put a palm on his chest to stop him. He stared at the hand numbly, his grip on the doorknob stiff. "The demon—did something. He's fine physically," she rushed to add when Leo opened his mouth. "It's his mind. They used some sort of potion, we think, to alter him. Paige is going to work on a vanquishing potion for the demons while I work on one for Chris."

"I need to see him," Leo said firmly.

Piper smiled. "I expected nothing less. I just wanted to… prepare you. He's not himself."

Leo nodded and brushed through the doorway. When he entered the attic, Piper at his back, Paige had already returned and prepped the potion station. In the middle of the room stood a circle of glowing crystals and, inside of them, Chris. His clothes were torn, dirt-tracked, and bloodstained, but he was here.

"Chris, you're safe…" Leo murmured, flooded with relief.

Chris whipped around to face him and dashed to the edge of the cage. The crystals glowed brighter in warning at his proximity, but Chris ignored them. "Dad!" he cried, "Please help me! Mom and the aunts—there's something weird going on with them. I think the demon did something to warp their brains!"

From her position beside the potion table, Paige rolled her eyes. "Ignore him. Nice try." Phoebe walked in behind Piper carrying an ice pack. She brought it to her younger sister, who propped it against the back of her neck with a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Phoebe."

Leo stared from the sisters to Chris. Chris smirked, folding his arms. "Oh, don't look so hurt, Pops. It was worth a shot."

Piper braced her husband with a comforting grasp on his arm.

"I have a spell," Phoebe told them. "It's a joint summoning-slash-vanquishing spell. Hopefully, if that's enough, we won't even need the potion."

"But we'll have it just in case," Paige added helpfully. "We're pulling out all the stops for this one."

From behind Leo came Piper's grim determination: "Nobody gets away with messing with my family."

Phoebe gave Paige's shoulder a gentle pat as she nodded at Piper. "You should get started on that potion for Chris. We don't need them double teaming us when the demons get here."

Piper gave a curt nod. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me." With one last lingering look at her sneering son, she marched downstairs.

She returned forty minutes later, this time with a handheld vial filled with a viscous cobalt liquid. Paige and Phoebe were just finishing up their own potion. Leo, who had taken up silent vigil since Piper had left, stood a few feet away from a very irate-looking Chris.

"Find something to do, old man," Chris sneered, clearly not his first comment of the afternoon. Leo said nothing, just smiled pleasantly.

"All right," Piper said, stepping over to join her sisters, "Here goes nothing." From the distance, she tossed the vial at her son's feet. The crystals hummed.

Chris frowned, scanning the room.

"Chris," Phoebe said hesitantly, "Say something." She sensed nothing.

"Um…" Chris cleared his throat. "What am I doing in a cage?"

Paige let out a gust of air. "You were possessed, sort of," she explained, sauntering over to kick a crystal out of the circle and free her nephew. Leo rushed forward to hug his son, who stood limply while arms encircled him. Piper swooped in next while Phoebe frowned from her position behind the table.

"Uh, I hate to break this up, but maybe we should get rid of the demons before we celebrate?"

"Right," Piper said into Chris's hair. She released him and joined Paige with Phoebe at the table. Shaking off her unease, Phoebe pulled a crumpled sheet of lined paper out of her pocket, smoothed it out as best she could, and held it out for her sisters to read.

The trio huddled together, holding hands as they began to chant, "Summon Bar-shed and Shed'avi / To them with broken family / Tear their limbs so we may see / The Power of Three will set us free."

A swirling tornado descended from the ceiling, blowing the sisters back a few paces. Instinctively, eyes closed against the gale, Leo reached out to grab his son's arm. He felt Chris shrink back but held fast. Two shapes formed in the swirl, and the witches watched as their tornado spun faster, whipping at the two demons' feet, dancing around them, swallowing them whole. Their screams were muffled by the winds.

Suddenly, beneath the roar of moving air, the sound changed: from screams to laughter, a high-pitched cackle. The wind slowed, sputtered, then died, leaving behind the demon siblings.

"You thought that would be enough?" the male demon howled. "Fools." He turned to face Chris. Leo pulled his son protectively behind his back. "Attack," Bar-shed ordered.

"Nice try," Paige said with a sharp laugh. "We countered your magic. Looks like you're down a lackey."

The laughter came from two directions this time. The female demon giggled, high and sinister. From behind them came Chris's own harsh voice. He shrugged out of Leo's grip and strolled past the frozen Charmed Ones.

"I can't believe you guys fell for that act!" he sneered. "You are so gullible."

"Wh-what?" Leo stuttered.

"I told you," Chris said, sidling up beside Bar-shed. Behind him, Shed'avi placed a clawed hand at the nape of his neck. "There's nothing to fix. I'm better than ever."

"He is tied to me now," Bar-shed said. "Now, attack."

Chris swung his arm forward, sending all three women crashing to the floor simultaneously. He jerked again, and Paige went skating across the floor, cracking her skull against the wall. After two blows in so short a time, she lay there unmoving.

Piper tried to blow up the demon, but the blast had little effect. He took a step backward from the force and was left with a small gash at the point of impact but was otherwise unharmed. The wound only served to enrage the demon. "Finish them and bring me the Book!" he roared.

Again, Chris sliced his hand through the air, this time sending Piper to join Paige across the room on her back. Groaning, Piper flipped onto her stomach and reached across her sister's arm to feel for a pulse.

The only one left ignored was the sole mortal in the room. Unheeded, Leo crept toward the table where Paige's vanquishing potion bubbled away. Out of the corner of her eye, Phoebe saw her brother-in-law's target and quickly drew attention to herself. "It'll take more than that to knock us down," she announced.

"Puh-lease, Aunt Phoebe," Chris leered, turning to face the last sister standing, "You are nothing. What do you plan to do, levitate me to death? Your powers are useless in the heat of battle."

Leo ducked behind the table.

"I guess they are," Phoebe replied cheerfully. She turned around and made a mad dash toward her sisters. "Leo, now!" she shouted. She dropped to her knees beside Piper, brandishing her spell, as Leo stood from his hiding spot and grabbed the entire brew. As hard as he could, he heaved the bowl at the demons. Shed'avi, who ducked behind Chris, avoided most of the splash, but Bar-shed got soaked.

Phoebe grasped Piper's hand, and Piper grabbed Paige. The two conscious witches began once again to chant. "Summon Bar-shed and Shed'avi / To them with broken family / Tear their limbs so we may see / The Power of Three will set us free."

This time, when the wind accelerated, it whistled with anger, swirling around Bar-shed alone. Viciously, it tore at his flesh bit by bit. His voice rose in a horrified scream.

"Bar-shed!" his sister shrieked, futilely reaching toward the tornado. Faster and faster it spun, dragging up into it the empty potion bowl and spitting it back out to clank loudly against the back wall. Chris dodged it and scrambled away. Then, with sudden finality, the screaming stopped. The wind subsided. Shed'avi was left standing along beside a large scorch mark, eyes rimmed red.

"You'll pay!" she raged and shimmered away.

"Chris," Piper groaned, "Where's Chris?" Frantically, her eyes scanned the attic, gaze landing on the boy beside a tall bookcase in the far corner of the room. He was doubled over on his hands and knees, retching bile onto the floor.

Leo made it to him first. He put a cool hand on Chris's back, rubbing small circles against his shirt. "You're okay," he murmured over and over again as Chris, still curled forward, began to weep.

Phoebe shook Paige gently until she moaned. "Did we get them?" she asked, only half-coherent.

"One of them," Phoebe replied. "Looks like it was the right one, too. Chris is back." She helped Paige sit up. "You should have Wyatt look at your head."

Chris had stopped vomiting long enough for Leo to collect him into a loose hug. He seemed too tired to even keep his head erect, resting it instead against his father's shoulder. Piper knelt down beside them to hug him from behind.

"Come on, baby," she urged after some time, "Let's get you to bed."

Phoebe forced herself to stand; her knees creaked with effort. "I'll get a mop for… that," she offered, gesturing toward the mess Chris had made and quietly exiting the room.

In Demoriel's throne room, a stormy voice echoed from the walls. "It was you!" Shed'avi stalked forward, wild with grief. "I heard what you did. You are the reason my brother is dead. You'll pay. They'll all pay!"

Setting aside his snake-head scepter, Demoriel stood. He descended the steps to his throne one at a time before coming to stand before her. In her fury, Shed'avi's hands glowed vibrant red. "My dead girl," Demoriel said, "Calm yourself." He reached out a hand to gently stroke her cheek, wiping away the streaks of tears with a thumb. "You need not mourn." His stroking fingers went lower, to her neck, where they turned to a vice around her throat. Leaning in, he whispered next to her ear, "I can reunite you with your dear brother." He squeezed, tighter and tighter still until a desperate gurgle erupted from the back of her throat. Her hands, cooled now as she lost her grip on her powers, scrabbled frantically against the hand at her neck. She tried to speak, but no voice emerged.

Demoriel smiled, baring teeth sharpened to razors. "This is what befalls those who cross me. A terrible shame you will not live to spread the message." A giant orange fire rose from the earth to lick up Shed'avi's calves. He held her until the flames had engulfed her completely, then stepped back to watch her release one final scream of rage and pain before she vanished in a cloud of ash that settled at Demoriel's feet.

Demoriel waved a lazy hand as he strolled back up to his throne and reclaimed his seat. "Clean this mess," he ordered, and two demons, bowing, rushed to obey.

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