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I Hope He Brought You Roses

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i. Alleyway

"Fuck!"

The expletive burst from Chris unwillingly in a hard grunt of breath, the unpleasant and sometimes painful result of being thrown into a wall.

"Not so cocky now, Charmed son?" The demon, a broad-shouldered, bald, nasty looking man in his human form, was even nastier in his natural form, his skin mottled black and green with bright red scars burned into his skin into some kind of ritual design.

In fact, that design was the reason that this whole thing started in the first place. It was put into place by a demonic high priestess by the name of Klea, a Source hopeful who was currently gathering forces to organize the Underworld. Chris had been tracking her for months, though when she caught on that she was in danger, she immediately started throwing minions at Chris, hence the ugly, nasty upper-level with a bonus power boost, courtesy of the creepy scars from Klea.

Chris pulled himself up roughly, rolling his eyes at the attempt at banter. Checking his back pocket, he heaved a sigh of relief, finding that the bottle that held the vanquishing potion was still intact. "I don't believe I ever described myself as 'cocky,' exactly," he said, moving forward, back towards the demon. "I prefer 'self assured,' myself."

The demon sneered and conjured an energy ball, throwing towards Chris. He ducked out of the way, quickly countering with a blast of telekinesis, hitting the demon in the stomach and pushing him backwards several paces.

Chris moved forward again, needing to be closer in order to throw the potion. "You know, I expected more from a former member of The Brotherhood," he said, going for distraction. "How disappointed Raynor would be."

His name dropping hit home. "What do you know of Raynor?" the demon hissed. "You're not fit to even speak his name, child."

"I know, I know! Don't speak ill of the dead, and all that." Chris shook his head, sighing in mock pity. "I can't help it, you know."

The demon snarled in anger and threw another energy ball. Chris easily dodged it, moving the few feet closer that he needed to throw the potion. He'd taken it out and was about to move to throw it when he heard a voice yell from the back end of the alley. "Chris! Look out!"

Distracted, he turned to look toward the voice for a split second, long enough so that he didn't see the second energy ball until it clipped his shoulder, throwing him back against a dumpster. He sat up quickly, just in time to see the demon shimmer away, and the broken bottle of potion on the ground. "Damn it!" he cursed.

"Chris! What the hell was that?"

Chris turned to look at the intruder, rolling his eyes. "That was almost a demon vanquish, Wyatt."

Wyatt scoffed, jogging down the alley to where Chris was on the ground. "Whatever, little brother. You aren't even supposed to be hunting demons, remember? And look, you got yourself hurt."

Groaning, Chris turned to examine his shoulder, wincing at the open wound. "I wouldn't have gotten hurt if you hadn't distracted me." He pulled himself up, shying away from the hand that Wyatt reached out to help with. "Didn't Mom ever teach you not to yell at the person busy with the spitting creature from hell?"

"No, she taught me to protect my family, which is what I was doing. You aren't supposed to be out doing this, Chris," Wyatt said firmly.

Chris sighed, moving away to the broken bottle on the ground. "Shit. That was my last batch."

"Chris!" Wyatt scowled, annoyed that his brother was ignoring him. "Chris, come on, I'll orb you home. Dad's looking for you."

"Oh, goody," Chris muttered sarcastically. Tuning out Wyatt, he focused on the broken potion. Murmuring the words of a spell under his breath, he watched in satisfaction as the bottle pieced itself back together, the potion returning intact. He grinned and picked it up, putting it safely back in his pocket.

Wyatt was standing there, frowning. "Chris," he started, but was cut off.

"I thought that might've been an Elder thing, but no, it's just a Wyatt thing, huh?" Chris shook his head. "The whole disapproving act is very tired."

"Gimme a break, Chris." Wyatt turned away in disgust. "Could you be anymore selfish? You know that Aunt Paige and Aunt Phoebe have been upset ever since we heard about Belthazor. And with Dad the way he is, I'm trying to keep everything running smoothly at home, and it really doesn't help with you making me run all over town, keeping your ass outta trouble."

Chris turned around, his temper close to snapping. "Keeping me out of trouble? Wyatt, do you know who that demon was? That was a Brotherhood, upper-level, idiot! And now, he's gonna go straight down to the Underworld and tell them exactly who I am and what I want. By my point of view, that's putting me in more trouble, brother," he snapped, his voice tinged with scorn. "And please, you give me a break. Acting like you're the fucking golden son, keeping the peace at home. You're hardly ever there."

"Bullshit." Wyatt fumed. "I'm there--"

"When?" Chris stepped up, challenging. "When there aren't any good parties. When you get bored with your girlfriend. When you need money." He stepped back, shaking his head. "Real noble, right."

"Oh, like I see you just itching to help Dad with Magic School."

"Help Dad?" Chris laughed bitterly. "Right, I see that happening."

"Chris..." Wyatt sighed, trailing off. "Whatever. Let's go."

He took Chris's uninjured shoulder, but Chris shook him off. "I can orb myself, thank you."

Wyatt rolled his eyes. "Whatever," he said again, orbing out quickly.

Chris scoffed. "Whatever," he mocked. Sighing, he took a minute to calm down, leaning against the brick alley wall with one hand, holding his injury with the other. Taking deep, calming breaths, he settled his emotions, calling on his training in meditation to blank out his mind.

After a few minutes, he straightened, feeling calmer. Taking one last look around the alleyway, he shook his head. "Damn it," he cursed again for good measure, the words echoing in the sudden brightness of his orbs.

Meanwhile, a pair of floating red eyes in the corner narrowed in malice, then blinked out of existence.

ii. Jacqui's House

"I am Jane and I love to ride elephants!"

Bianca Perry winced, hunching lower in her chair as her friend Jacqui Smyth proceeded to dance around the room, singing at the top of her lungs.

"Oy oye oy oye oy oye yay..."

Rolling her eyes, Bianca grabbed Jacqui's arm on her next pass through and pulled her down to sit on the floor. Glaring, she kept a firm grip on her arm. "Sing anymore of that fucking song and I'll kill you."

Jacqui blinked a few times owlishly. "What?"

Huffing, Bianca tore the headphones off her friend's ears. "I said, stop singing!"

"Oh." Jacqui rolled her eyes and clicked the CD player off, the tinny noise of the song ending. "You could've just said so."

"I did. Several times, in fact. But it seemed you were too busy getting in touch with your inner six-year-old to hear me."

Jacqui smiled innocently. "I happen to think that Aqua's music is very mature, thank you very much."

"You were prancing around the room singing about 'funky monkeys,' Jacqui."

"See? Concern for endangered wildlife. Very mature."

Opening her mouth slightly, she struggled for words momentarily before shaking it off and changing the subject. "What do you think of this dress?" She grabbed a pink mini from the closet, holding it out in front of her. "Too bubblegum?"

"What, for my party tomorrow night?" Bianca nodded. "Nah, pink's a bad party color. Try that dark red one you got in LA. Besides, Wyatt loves red."

Bianca frowned. "How do you know that? I didn't know that."

Jacqui laughed weakly and shrugged. "Please, all guys love red. It's like, a sex color, or something."

Bianca snorted, remembering some of the more kinkier rites and rituals that her clan had practiced. Red had been a prominent color. "I bet." She sighed, pulling out the dress, her disposition slowly souring. It wasn't often that she thought about her past, but when she did, it always managed to ruin whatever mood she had going.

Though technically a witch, Bianca also had inherited demonic powers, passed down her family line from her ancestors in the early American Northeast. It was a common misconception among the magical community that the families and friends of the women killed in the Salem Witch Trials had banded together and formed a dark magic coven, performing blood rituals and calling for demonic powers in order to bestow revenge on the mortals who persecuted the "witches." In actuality, the story was a bit more boring. The demonic powers came from actual demon blood, an upper level demon who married a Perry witch in the early eighteenth century. The rest was propaganda and rumors; though her family didn't do much to dissuade them.

Bianca took pride in her mixed heritage. She saved innocents when she could, using a mixture of the two methods. She wasn't completely good, but she wasn't completely evil, either, and it worked for her. She could bravely admit to herself that she was happy where she was, half demon, half witch. Now if she could only admit that to Wyatt.

And therein lied the major problem between her and her not-quite-serious-but-getting-there boyfriend, Wyatt Halliwell. It had never been a problem before, but lately with all the time they'd been spending together, Bianca had grown more and more uncomfortable with the one-sided parts of their relationship.

Bianca knew all about the Charmed Ones, anyone with a brain and powers did. When she was little, they were like the magical version of the boogey man to her—finish your training exercises, Bianca, or the Charmed Ones will vanquish you. Nice parenting, Ma. From the time she was six, she could recite the names and powers of each of the sisters, plus their respective husbands, whitelighters and children. It was a given for any child being raised in a demonic home. Know thy enemy.

Bianca, on the other hand, held no such fame, and so Wyatt had no such instant recognition when he'd met her. And now here she was, three years later, now dating him, and he still had no idea that she even knew about magic, let alone threw fireballs and conjured athames out of thin air.

She didn't really know why she never told him. Merlin knows she'd tried, had even gotten half way there, but something had always gotten in the way. The words stuck in her throat. Things with Wyatt were always easy, comfortable. She knew bringing real life into the picture would tense things up, and she wasn't ready for that.

Actually, thinking about it, the only reason that Wyatt hadn't seen through all her flimsy excuses was that he was probably so thankful that she seemingly never saw through his. But really, it wasn't like Wyatt was the type of guy who would just guess something like that. Not like Chris.

Bianca took a step back from the closet, rolling her eyes slightly. She cast a glance to Jacqui, who was bouncing around to her iPod again. She turned away from the nauseatingly overflowing closet and sank back into her seat, sighing at the thought of Chris. While Wyatt Halliwell was an easy puzzle to solve, his dark-haired, acerbic brother was still a mystery, something that had always slightly annoyed, and if she wanted to admit it, intrigued Bianca.

For instance, Chris had picked up who and what she was at their very first meeting, while Wyatt was still in the dark after almost a year-long relationship.

iii. The Manor

"Bianca, this is my brother, Chris. Don't believe anything he says about me." Wyatt winked cheesily, and she smiled a little in return.

Chris was lanky, brunette and his face was solid and square. He was all hard edges and lines, and he looked positively intimidating compared to stocky, blonde, curvy Wyatt. He was the earth to Wyatt's hot air, she quipped in her head.

A smirk was firmly in place on his face, his too-long hair falling over his eyes. Bianca couldn't help but let her Phoenix instincts kick in, assessing him from head to toe with predators' eyes. He was dressed in casual clothing that looked threadbare and worn, probably hand-me-downs. He held himself completely still, his arms crossed loosely, and his eyes darted around the room continuously, observing everything. Outwardly, he looked relaxed and comfortable, but her trained eye could tell that he was also on his guard, like he probably always was, ready to strike or defend at the slightest sign of danger. As she looked him over, she felt him look her over as well, and a mounting respect grew in Bianca's mind. This man was a hunter.

After a moment, his smirk softened a bit, and he held out his hand for Bianca to shake. "Hi," he said softly, and his deep voice sent a chill down her spine. "It's nice to finally meet you."

Bianca took his hand firmly, shaking it slowly. The contact of his warm palm on hers made her stomach drop. She swallowed hard. "Nice to meet you too," she managed.

After a second, instead of releasing her hand, he pulled her arm towards his body slightly, turning so that her wrist was face up. She frowned, but Chris smirked back at her, tugging her sleeve up a little. "Nice tattoo," he said meaningfully, indicating the Phoenix clan symbol emblazoned on her arm.

Her breath caught. Oh, shit. "Uh, yeah. A souvenir from a very drunken Saturday night. A word of advice, never let your cousin choose your body art."

Wyatt laughed. "I never let my cousin choose anything."

Chris's expression darkened at that for some reason, but then his gaze fell back on her face, his eyes piercing. "Where did you say you were from? Salem?" Bianca's stomach dropped. He knew.

"Salem? Where the hell did you get that, little brother?" Chris scowled at the term. "She's from New York, right?"

Bianca nodded numbly. "Yeah." Suddenly, she realized that Chris was still holding her wrist, and she snapped it back, crossing her arms defensively. "We lived in SoHo until I was twelve."

"Hey, are you okay?" Wyatt suddenly turned concerned eyes on her. "You look...I dunno, freaked."

She gulped. "Yeah, I'm fine, I just..." she glanced nervously at Chris, who raised an eyebrow at her. "I just feel a little lightheaded. I didn't get much to eat today."

"Oh. Well, that's easily fixed. My mom is like, a gourmet cook. I'm sure she's got something made." Wyatt stood up and grinned. "Sit tight."

He ran out, leaving Bianca feeling a bit stunned. She snuck a glance at Chris, who stared back at her unflinchingly. "He ran outta here pretty quickly," she said nervously.

Chris shrugged. "He wants to impress you."

"Oh." She felt a mild bit of surreality. She was sitting in Halliwell Manor, and the twice-blessed wanted to impress her. Whoa.

"So what clan are you from?" Chris asked casually.

She started. "What? What do you mean?"

He snorted. "Please."

She eyed him suspiciously for a moment, then deflated. "Phoenix, in Albany. But I swear I'm not evil!" She added quickly.

"Did I accuse you of being such?"

She fidgeted. "Well, I'm technically a demon. I thought..."

"That I'd vanquish you as soon as Wyatt turned his back?" She shrugged, and he chuckled. "No, that'd be your boyfriend. Or Leo. I, on the other hand, kinda like to get to know a pretty girl before we get into the whole torture thing."

She flushed slightly, recognizing the innuendo. She cleared her throat. "My mother and I ran away from the clan three years ago. She works as an assassin, but she never accepts targets that are human or non-violent. I've been trained just like my mother was, but I've never killed anybody." Her expression darkened as she remembered her training, something she usually tried to avoid thinking about. "We're just trying to start over."

"Why'd you leave?"

Bianca risked another glance at him, but instead of finding disgust or accusation, she found only simple curiosity. Cautiously, she answered. "My dad..." she trailed off, her throat clenching. "The clan killed him," she managed. "My mom had already had enough of it before that, but she'd stuck around because they were family. But after they murdered him..." she shook her head, the familiar burning anger rising in her chest. "She'd had enough. We'd had enough."

Chris nodded slowly. "I'm sorry about your father."

She took a deep, shaky breath. "Thank you," she said gratefully.

"Are you going to tell Wyatt?"

She was tempted to lie, but something about his voice, the way he was looking at her, told her to be truthful. "I don't know. How do you think he'd react?"

At this, he looked hesitant. "Honestly?"

She nodded. "Honest."

"Not well."

"I was expecting that." He raised an eyebrow. "I've heard rumors about the twice-blessed. Rumors about all of you, actually."

"Rumors?" He sounded amused. "What rumors?"

She smiled a little. "Oh, you know, the usual. How the Charmed Ones are practically goddesses on earth, the most powerful witches of all time. About how the only ones more powerful are the Charmed Sons. How the twice-blessed will kill anything that moves."

"Ah." Chris grinned a little. "Well, yeah, Wyatt's a bit...hasty when it comes to vanquishing." He shook his head. "It's a little annoying, actually. He won't even consider the possibility that maybe not every single demon is evil."

Bianca sighed. "I guess that doesn't bode well for me, huh?"

Chris blanched a little, seeming to backtrack. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

"It's okay." She waved a hand. "Wyatt and I are just friends. Really."

"Do you like him?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. A little, maybe, in a 'wow, I can't believe that a Halliwell is actually giving me the time of day' kinda way."

Chris smiled a little bitterly. "Yeah, everyone gets a little star struck around Wyatt."

"That's only because he's so damn bright that you can't help but look at him. Kinda like the sun."

"Yeah, but you look at the sun too long, you burn your eyes."

"Exactly my point."

Chris laughed. "Well, this Halliwell likes you. You can take that home as your consolation prize."

"Who said that you'd be the consolation?" Bianca asked teasingly. "Maybe you're the gold medal."

"Ah, my dear Bianca, how much you have yet to learn," he returned sarcastically. "The second son never gets the spotlight. Or the girl."

"Maybe the girl would like to choose between the sons herself."

He shook his head, still smiling, a little sadly. "That's not how it usually works. You'll see."

She opened her mouth to reply, but just then Wyatt reentered the room, carrying a plate of cookies. "Freshly baked," he said, setting the plate down on the coffee table. "Well, freshly microwaved after an afternoon in the freezer," he said, smiling. "Better than nothing."

She smiled and took one. "Thanks."

"You're a regular Wolfgang Puck, Wyatt," Chris said. "Did you at least remember to take off the tin foil this time?"

"Hey, just because I'm not Mom's little chef-in-training doesn't mean I can't microwave a lousy plate of cookies." He paused and glanced at Bianca. "And yes, I did."

Chris smirked. "I'm hardly a chef-in-training," he said. "I'm the part time cook at Poor Richard's, remember? I believe that would make me a professional."

"Shut up. I'll have you know I make a mean rhubarb pie."

Bianca giggled and looked over at Chris. "I'm allergic to rhubarb," she stage-whispered.

"Your secret's safe with me," Chris said, winking and cocking his head at Wyatt. Bianca sobered and smiled genuinely at him.

Wyatt scowled. "Are you making fun of me?"

"Yes."

Bianca shook her head, coming out of the memory. She sighed a little regretfully. That'd been three years ago, right after she'd arrived in San Francisco. Chris had been so different then. He used to be able to make her laugh so hard that tears would stream down her face—and then make her melt into a girly gooey puddle by saying or doing something so sweetly thoughtful in the very next moment. She'd had such a huge crush on him, it almost didn't matter to her that Wyatt didn't seem like he would ever accept her demon side, as long as Chris did.

But then Piper had died, and Chris had changed. He stopped hanging out with her—with anybody. He started going to the Underworld more and more often, hunting demons almost feverishly. Bianca had tried so hard to help him, but he wouldn't let her in, no matter how hard she pushed. She remembered coming home each night in tears, and finally her mother had urged her to let him be, for her own sake.

It was after that that she'd started dating Wyatt. Her heart clenched as she remembered that particular scene.

iv. The Manor Again

Bianca was sitting in the living room at the Manor, glancing nervously around the room. Wyatt had shown up at her door an hour ago and practically dragged her out of the apartment that she shared with her mother, driving like a madman back to his house. He'd stuck her in here and told her not to move, then dashed out like he was being chased by a warlock. Which left her sitting by herself, not at all sure what to think.

"You look anxious."

She jumped at the sudden voice, and whirled around to see Chris, leaning against the door frame casually. She stiffened, still feeling the hurt from his cold demeanor of late, but couldn't help but drink in the sight of him, something that was rare in her life these days. "Oh, so you're talking to me again now? Should I mark the date?"

His face stayed blank. "I'm just trying to be friendly."

"Hallelujah," she said dryly.

He stared at her, his gaze as piercing as always. "So you and Wyatt have been spending a lot of time together."

"So?"

"So did you forget that he doesn't know your deep, dark secret?"

"No," she said shortly. "Thanks for bringing it up, by the way."

"No problem," he replied easily. There was a moment of silence in which he stared at her while she attempted to ignore him. Finally, he spoke up again. "He's going to ask you out tonight. It's why he practically kidnapped you tonight. He's upstairs digging this stupid promise ring thing out of his closet."

Bianca froze, her blood running cold. Her throat was choked for a reason that she couldn't discern. "And you're telling me this why?"

He shrugged. "Thought you'd like to be a bit prepared."

"Prepared." She swallowed thickly. "And...do you...have any opinion on this?"

He was silent for a very long time. "Why would I?"

She turned to look at him, but his expression gave nothing away. "No," she replied, bitterness lacing her voice. "Why would you?"

"Hey, don't get mad at me."

"No, why would I get mad at you?" she snapped. "It's not like you've abruptly cut off all contact with me. It's not like you will barely look at me anymore. It's not like you go out of your way to hurt me in the few moments that you do give me the time of day. It's not like you're acting like a complete jackass. Or anything."

"Looks like you've been doing okay with your choice of company. Not like I made much of a difference."

"Fuck you," she spat. "I was trying to help you--"

If nothing else, that sparked an emotion in him. "I don't need your help," he said hotly. "Why would I want anyone's pity, let alone yours?"

"It's not pity, you idiot," she said furiously. "It's called caring about somebody. Look it up."

"Don't patronize me!"

"Why not? It's all I get from you!"

He started to snap back, but abruptly shut his mouth. Bianca saw his face literally close off, all the anger—all the emotion—draining from his face. He stepped out into the hallway, just as she heard Wyatt thunder down the stairs.

"Whoa, what happened in here?" Wyatt asked, sensing the tension.

Bianca looked over at him, then quickly turned her face away, wiping her cheeks for any stray tears. "Nothing. Wyatt, why am I here?" she asked shortly, all patience leaving her.

"Uh..." Wyatt faltered, looking a bit uncomfortable. He glanced at Chris. "Do you think we could have a little privacy, bro?" He gave a meaningful glance, which made Bianca sure that Wyatt had gone to Chris beforehand with this, maybe asked his advice. And Chris had done nothing. Her chest burned.

Chris gave Bianca a dark look. "Sure," he said. "You lovebirds have fun, now." To Wyatt, the statement was a teasing comment to a brother, but to Bianca, the words were intrinsically painful. Her throat clenched, and she bit the inside of her cheek in order to keep the tears at bay.

Wyatt blushed and punched Chris in the arm. "Get outta here."

"Gladly," he muttered. He brushed by Bianca on his way to the kitchen, and she felt the tension and anger radiating off of him, which ignited even more anger in her. What the hell did he have to be mad about?

After he left, there was an awkward silence in which Wyatt fidgeted a little, obviously uncomfortable. He kept playing with something in his pocket—the promise ring that Chris had mentioned—but when he caught her staring, he stopped in what he obviously thought was a covert move. Inwardly she was amused at his bumbling attempts at being smooth. She almost felt sorry for the poor guy.

"Uh, Bianca?"

She sighed, suddenly feeling tired, more tired than she'd felt in a long time. "Yes, Wyatt?"

"I, um..." he trailed off. Just say it, Bianca thought. He shifted his weight from foot to foot nervously, then took a deep breath and plunged in. "Look, I really like you, and I think you like me, and we've been friends for a couple years now and I know that you don't really trust people very easily, but..." he took the ring box out of his pocket and practically shoved it into her hands. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

Will you be my girlfriend. She almost laughed. It was such an...innocent question. Like, do you like me? Check yes or no.

"Wyatt..."

"Stop. It's not an engagement ring or anything..." he laughed anxiously. "It's like a promise ring. Phoebe got one from Coop when they started dating, she gave me the idea."

Bianca opened the box and saw a gold band with a brilliant red stone set in the center. It shone brightly, and it looked heavy. She hated it instantly. "It's beautiful," she said weakly. "It must've been expensive."

"Oh, it was my grandmother's."

An heirloom? A Halliwell heirloom? Shit.

"Wyatt, I don't know..."

"Bianca, I can't tell you how much you helped me after Mom..." he trailed off. "You've been great. And I know that you kinda had a crush on my brother..." she started to protest, but he held up a hand. "Please, you so did. But he obviously doesn't like you back, and so I figured that you were over it."

Bianca felt like she'd been punched in the gut. "Thanks," she said sarcastically.

He shifted. "Naw, I didn't mean it like that," he said. "I just meant, Chris is...he's just not the dating type, you know?"

She swallowed, choosing her words carefully. "He had a hard time after your mom died," she said. "Maybe he just needs someone to believe in him."

Wyatt looked a little angry at this. "He's got a whole family that wants to believe in him, but he won't let us." He looked away from her. "Look, this isn't about him. This is about us." He moved forward and took her hand, smiling. "I like you. I like you a lot. I'd like for us to date."

She looked up at Wyatt, at sincere, sweet, naïve Wyatt, and Chris's face flashed through her mind's eye. Closed off, bitter, angry, unstable. She sighed and smiled softly. He wasn't Chris, but Chris wasn't an option. Wyatt was kind and he cared about her. What did she have to lose?

"Okay," she said quietly. His face split into a grin.

He kissed her and it was slightly uncomfortable for her but he seemed to enjoy it, and she late as he walked her out to his car to drive her home, she tried to ignore the feeling of eyes on her back.

"Bianca?" She snapped back to reality, seeing Jacqui's hand waving around in front of her face. She knocked it away in annoyance. "Where'd you go? You were totally spacing out."

She shook her head. "Nowhere."

Jacqui smiled tightly. "Daydreaming about lover boy?"

"Something like that."

Jacqui nodded, and for some reason it turned awkward. "Well, that dress will look awesome on you," she said. "Wyatt will pass out."

"Yeah," she said. "Great."

Just great.

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