Title: Lonely Light of Morning

Chapter 35: How Am I Gonna Be an Optimist About This?

But if you close your eyes
Does it almost feel like
Nothing changed at all?
And if you close your eyes
Does it almost feel like
You've been here before?
How am I gonna be an optimist about this?
How am I gonna be an optimist about this?

- Bastille, Pompeii

Dean was fuming, forearms and face red and patchy where he'd hit the brick wall. Piper knew he'd likely be bruised as hell by tomorrow. She wondered if she should ask Leo to heal him, but realized this wasn't the time. Dean was deep in argument with Paige and Phoebe, insisting they open another portal so he could go after Sam immediately. Never mind that the damn thing was notoriously unstable, and worse, that none of them had any idea where or when Chris and Sam had been headed.

The sheer unknowability of it all, the fact that they really could have lost them both for good, sent a curl of anxiety through Piper. She couldn't help but wonder if this had been a terrible idea, if their attempt to 'help' Chris would just end up making the situation worse. They had a tendency to do that with him. Piper didn't think she'd ever be able to forgive herself if that was the case now.

She stood off to the side with Leo, watching the argument escalate. Usually, she would have been right there with them, sharing their collective frustration at Sam's foolhardy decision. Except this time, Piper couldn't bring herself to be angry with Sam. She knew she should be, because what he'd done had been sneaky and reckless and might have catastrophic consequences, but when she thought about how this had all gone down, how they'd all just let Chris talk them into allowing him go off into the unknown without any protection, Piper could only be glad that Sam hadn't listened to them.

Chris was always so painfully alone, so stubborn and brave in his isolation, that it was difficult sometimes to even know how to help him. She was still shocked he'd allowed her to hug him. Piper's arms still tingled at the memory of how he'd trembled in her arms, how his breath had hitched as if he was choking back sobs, and yet he'd stepped back from her with dry eyes and an unchanged expression.

It consumed Piper with worry, the way he always swallowed back everything and kept going, suffering in silence with his myriad secrets and traumas. Piper knew that a big part of his standoffishness was their fault, an inevitable result of how they'd treated him in those first months. She still cringed when she thought about some of the things they'd said to him, how badly they had probably hurt him without even realizing it.

Sam was the only one who had ever been able to get through to Chris. He'd been right there by his side from the beginning, seeing straight through his bullshit, calling them out on theirs. Unlike Piper and her sisters, he had never once backed down when Chris wanted to do something ridiculously dangerous or self-sacrificing. He had always stepped up to help him. Piper suspected that a part of Dean's anger was at himself, for not seeing this coming in time to stop his brother, because anyone who knew Sam and Chris would have known this outcome was inevitable.

The ambient noise level in the alleyway rose, Piper refocused her attention on the argument unfolding between Dean and her sisters.

"…thought you were supposed to be the Charmed Ones, the most powerful good witches in the world, and you're seriously telling me you can't reopen a damn portal? Like, really?"

"And where the hell would we even point it?" Paige shot back at Dean, glaring. "Look, I'm upset too. Sam's my charge and my responsibility, and you better believe I'm going to have words with him when he gets his ass back here. But we can't just walk through the portal and just hope we end up in the right timeline!"

"Why the hell not?" Dean demanded heatedly. "I thought Chris tried that himself, a few months ago when he was testing the portal. So why can't we?"

"Because we ended up in the Jurassic age and almost got eaten by dinosaurs," Leo interjected. "And that was only one of the time periods we passed through. It was a miracle we even made it back here without dying ten times over."

"If you knew how dangerous this portal was, then why did you all talk Chris into doing this?" Dean raged, obviously spoiling for a fight. "Because the way I see it, nothing was worth the danger this could-"

The portal hummed suddenly with blue magic, cutting Dean off mid-tirade. Quickly, Piper stepped forward, focusing all her magic on stabilizing it, trying to hold it steady so it could only lead here, into this timeline and no other. Phoebe and Paige moved to flank her, their foreheads furrowing in concentration, the Power of Three coursed through them as they tried to give Sam and Chris the best chance they could.

They waited in silent anticipation for something to happen, and then finally, after about half a minute, the endless, sparkling blue rippled and Chris stepped through, blinking against the morning sunlight. He froze when he came face to face with the three sisters, his expression twisting with pain at the sight of them. His eyes squeezed shut, and he hunched his shoulders defensively as if bracing for an attack.

Piper glanced at her sisters, shocked by the devastation on his face. It was Dean who broke the frozen tableau, striding forward and grasping Chris by the shoulders. "Chris, where the hell is my brother? Is he okay?"

The desperation in Dean's voice seemed to snap Chris out of it. He opened his eyes and nodded stiffly, drawing in a shaking breath and keeping his gaze trained on Dean. "He's fine," he said. "He should be right behind me." He blanched as his eyes landed on Leo, who was slowly moving towards him with a frown of concern.

"Chris, are you...?"

"D- Leo," Chris said. "I- God… "

Something fractured in his expression, and he jerked away from them all, stumbling back against the alley wall. For a second he stared at all of them, eyes wild and chest heaving as he searched their faces.

Then the portal sang again, and Sam stepped through. Over her overwhelming relief, Piper noted with surprise that he was wearing an older, more worn down outfit than what he'd left wearing. Sam took one look at the three sisters, and he, too, went shock white at the sight of them. He turned immediately towards where Chris was standing. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he murmured. "Breathe."

"I can't do this," said Chris in a strangled voice.

He orbed away.

"Fuck," Sam swore, fingers scrambling in the wake of his orb trail, "Fuck, I need to go and-"

He never finished his sentence, because that was the moment Dean finally lost his temper. His jaw tight, he stalked forward and punched Sam square in the jaw. The younger Winchester went down hard, knocked clean to the floor by the force of the blow.

"What the hell were you thinking?" the elder Winchester snarled, towering over him. "This has got to be one of the most asinine, dangerous, reckless things you have ever-"

"Hey!" Piper jumped between the two of them, arms spread outwards. "Stand down, Dean. This is not going to help."

"I don't care," said Dean, "He literally just risked everything, and…" Dean stopped then, his anger swiftly replaced by concern as he suddenly noticed the hollow look on his brother's face. Sam was still down on the floor, crouched low on the dirty ground, one hand pressed lightly to the side of his face where Dean had punched him. He wasn't even trying to get up.

"Sam?" Dean asked, worried. "I didn't hit you that hard, did I?"

"No, no, you didn't," Sam reassured him wanly. "I know you pulled your punch. Besides, I had it coming. It's just…the future was-" He shook his head as words failed him, his eyes haunted.

Dean stared down at him for a long moment, and then he sighed, reaching out a hand to pull him up. Sam stood on shaky legs; his expression tightly constrained. Behind him, the blue magic of the portal finally fizzled out, leaving only a brick wall.

Sam glanced back towards it. Once again, his expression twisted in anguish, and he pulled his eyes away as if he couldn't bear to look at it.

"What happened?" Phoebe asked softly. "You're a wreck, I can feel it even over the empathy blocking potion you guys took. Chris just fell apart when he saw us. Did we do something?"

"No, it's not you," said Sam hoarsely. "It's just, the future was..." He shuddered a little, as if it was too horrible to actually articulate into words. "I think he's going to need a few days."

"How long were you there for?" Paige asked him. "You were supposed to come right back, but you're wearing different clothes?"

Sam looked down at what he was wearing with a nauseated expression. "Just a day and a half," he answered. "We were going to leave immediately, but, uh, some shit went down, and the Resistance needed Chris's help, and…well. Let's just say my outfit was pretty much unsalvageable."

In Piper's experience, there was only a short list of things that could ruin an outfit so completely, and most of them involved blood or fire. A cold feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. "This was supposed to help," she said. "Dean was right. Clearly this was a terrible idea."

But Sam shook his head fiercely, turning to look her right in the eye. "No, it wasn't," he said firmly. "We learned things we never would have found out if we hadn't done this. That has to be worth something." Sam's fingers pressed reflexively against the pocket of his jeans, as if guarding something precious. "It was just a tough couple of days. Chris…he lost someone close to him. He found someone too, and that was good, but...I think he's going to need some downtime before he can swing back into action. Time to grieve and just..." Sam waved his hands in a vague gesture, "be. You know?"

No, Piper thought, she didn't know. She didn't understand how this could have happened, or why Sam was trying to put a positive spin on it. Because only minutes ago, she'd hugged Chris goodbye and sent him on his way to find the healing and the hope he'd so desperately needed, and now he'd come back to them more heartbroken and devastated than ever, having lost yet another person.

The last time he had walked through a portal into his future, Chris had come back drenched in his fiancée's blood, telling them in a flat, constrained voice that Bianca wasn't going to be a threat to anyone anymore. Even then, when they'd barely known him at all, they had all sensed that he had little else left to lose. What was this fresh blow going to cost him now?

A couple of hours later, Sam stood in front of the backroom at P3, hesitating as he raised his hand to knock on the front door. He knew he was being ridiculous. Chances were, Chris wouldn't even be here. Given everything that had happened, he was most likely off in the Underworld, distracting himself with demon fights. Still, on the off chance that Chris was actually here, Sam had to make sure he was okay, or at least as okay as he could be given the circumstances.

Despite Future Dean's reassurances, Sam couldn't help but blame himself. Chris had lost his last living family in a desperate bid to save Sam, not once, but twice now. He wavered at the door, unable to step through. He had no idea how long he would have stood there if the door hadn't suddenly swung open, almost clipping him on the nose.

Chris stood in the doorway, eyeing him with a mildly exasperated expression. "You gonna stand outside all day or are you gonna come in already?" he snarked. "And also, what the hell happened to your face?"

"Dean punched me," Sam answered with a rueful shrug. "I was going to knock; I just wasn't sure if you were actually here."

It was a bullshit excuse, but Chris didn't call him on it beyond raising a skeptical eyebrow. He stepped back and gestured Sam in. The older man's eyes swept around the familiar room, noting the three magical books lying open on the table. He paused in surprise when he spotted a half-empty container of Chinese food perched precariously on edge of the couch.

"You actually ordered food without someone bullying you into it?" he asked. "Who are you and what have you done with Chris?"

"Very funny," said Chris drily. His face grew more serious, and he added with surprising honesty, "I'm just…you know. Trying to keep my promises."

The words sobered Sam immediately as he remembered the emotional goodbye only hours ago, and how his future self had told Chris to eat more, take better care of himself, and accept help and support. Apparently, Chris had taken that to heart. "Are you doing okay?" he asked. "I mean, of course you're not, but...how not okay are you right now?"

"It's up and down," said Chris, once again startling him with his candor. "It was a lot, seeing Phoebe and Paige and Leo the second we stepped through."

"Yeah." Sam had barely interacted with Prue and Henry Jr., and even he had been hit hard by the resemblance. He wondered why Leo was also on the list for Chris, but some instinct told him not to ask. "I asked them to give you some space. I didn't tell them what went down, but I didn't think they deserved to be left completely in the dark, so I told them you'd lost someone."

Chris grimaced, then sighed and took a seat on the couch, gesturing for Sam to do the same.

Sam sat down beside him, moving a pile of books to the floor to make room. "What are you working on?" he asked, gesturing towards them.

"Research for the next demon hunt," Chris answered. "Nothing concrete yet. It'll probably take me a couple of days to narrow it down. I figured I would take it easy for a bit before I throw myself back into the Underworld."

"Only you would call obsessive research into the Underworld taking it easy," Sam said.

"Yeah, well," Chris said with a shrug. "I've actually been neglecting it since Barbas attacked. It's about time I get on top of it again."

"Well, research or not, you should still finish the rest of your dinner," Sam answered, tilting his head towards the rapidly cooling container of noodles.

"Nice try, but I think I'm done for now," Chris told him. "Serving sizes are just way too big in this timeline. I'm still not used to it." He grabbed the container and passed it to Sam. "Here. I doubt you've had much to eat since we left."

Sam took the offered food, suddenly reminded of how hungry he was.

Chris watched him as he ate, a contemplative look on his face. "How are you doing?" he asked. "You just had a lot of crap thrown at you in a very short period of time. Is there anything you need to talk about?"

It was an innocent enough question, but something in Chris's tone made Sam's eyes narrow in suspicion. "Did Future Sam tell you he talked to me?"

Chris ducked his head, looking sheepish. "Uh, maybe?" he hedged.

"Yeah, no, I am not discussing that yet, so you can stop fishing," Sam told him firmly. "I need to think it through myself and decided how to act on everything he told me before I say a word about it to anyone. I probably won't ever be able to tell you the full story, because you know- time travel, future consequences, and all that fun stuff. You know how the song goes."

"I can't exactly argue with that, can I," Chris said sourly. "It was worth a try."

Sam smirked at him, reaching out to cuff him upside the head, and Chris ducked him easily.

"But like, I wasn't just asking because of that," the younger man continued. "You saw a lot of terrible things, probably learned more about your future than you ever wanted to know. That can't have been easy."

"I thought I was prepared for how bad it was," Sam admitted. "I saw your memories in the trial, I thought I got it, but actually seeing it up close..."

"Yeah." Chris's expression was grim.

"I, uh, also realize now that you were right," Sam added, looking away from him. "I was in no way prepared for that mission. I should have listened to you. Instead, I just ended up as a liability."

"That's not- wait, are you blaming yourself?" Chris asked, sounding shocked. "Sam, what happened wasn't your fault. No one could have anticipated Prue and Bianca working together. That's never happened before. If you hadn't been there, we would have been completely outmatched."

That was what Future Dean had told him, too, but it didn't help. Sam's eyes stung as he recalled waking up, completely uninjured, only to find Henry Jr. still and motionless on the floor while Chris stood blank-faced with horror. He said with difficulty, "What you did, what you both gave up, to save me; I can't even-"

"I know," said Chris, his expression twisting with anguish. "It was fucking awful, all of it. Not just Henry Jr, but what Prue did, too. I still don't know why she turned, you know? Even with two sets of memories, I have no idea why she chose Wyatt's side. The worst part is, it was a choice. No one ever forced her." He shook his head, releasing an uneven breath. "Thank God Aunt Phoebe and Uncle Coop didn't live to see that. Although maybe if they had, it wouldn't have happened to begin with. Either way, Prue's actions, Henry's, mine- none of that was on you. She chose to go after you and Henry, and that was only ever going to end one way. As for Henry, it was his choice to sacrifice himself to save you, and it was my choice to help him. We did it knowingly and consciously, and I won't blame you for it."

"Was I close to him, in the future?" Sam asked, curious about the man he'd barely caught a glimpse of; his whitelighter's son, the young Halliwell who had died to save his life.

"No," Chris admitted, pained. "I wasn't either. I mean, I barely even knew Hanky properly in the original timeline; he died when he was thirteen and he was years younger than me. In the changed version, he survived, but none of us paid any attention to him. He was still just a kid in those first years of the war, and the rest of us were so busy fighting Wyatt and trying to organize the Resistance. Later, when he was old enough, he proved he was a good fighter and he could heal himself, too, so of course we sent him on missions. We never involved him in our plans. He didn't even know I was coming to the past, and still, when I left, he just stepped up without hesitation and took my place. I saw the way they all deferred to him, and I'd only been gone for what, a week, before we got back?" Chris shook his head, incredulous and proud. "That kind of loyalty isn't built overnight. He'd probably been quietly exerting his influence for years, establishing himself as someone they could look up to and rely on, and none of us even noticed. And now, they've lost him too."

The regret and grief in Chris's voice cut Sam to the quick. Swallowing hard, he laid a hand on the younger man's shoulder. Chris sagged forward and bowed his head, brown locks obscuring his face.

"When I think of it now," he said, choking, "he went through so much. We all did, but he really did lose everyone-his parents, his aunts and uncles, his sisters, all our cousins, his entire childhood- all when he was even younger than me. The thing that really gets me is, I can't even remember who checked in on him, who helped him grieve. I don't know who held him together during those years. Maybe it was Dean; he was always good at taking care of people under the radar, but…I don't know. I always had people, even when things were really terrible. I always had you. I just wish he'd had someone too."

"You don't know that he didn't," Sam pointed out. "He must have had friends, mentors, other people in the Resistance he was close to. He didn't exactly seem unpopular."

"Yeah," Chris said. "I know he did. I just wish I was one of them, you know? I wish I'd taken the time to get to know him. It's like I only saw this tiny glimpse of this amazing person, and now he's gone, and it's too late."

"It's not too late," Sam protested immediately, tightening his hold on Chris's shoulder. "He hasn't even been born yet in this timeline. You can fix it; you can still get to know him this time around. It's not too late, Chris."

"I know," said Chris decisively. "I will; I have to. I promised him I would, for our families, for Prue. I don't have a choice, now."

As Sam walked up the two flights of stairs to the motel room he shared with Dean, his mind was preoccupied with worry. He was relieved to have left Chris more determined and steelier than he'd expected to, but even so, the kid was obviously still devastated, and there were so many things for Sam to think about now. Thanks to Future Sam, he was the only one who knew the true darkness that lay ahead of them. He couldn't help but feel daunted by the enormity of the task that had been laid on his shoulders.

He remembered again the conversation he'd had with his future self in the dark, shadowy briefing room, thirty minutes before they'd left for the mission.

"You have to take him down." There was quiet desperation in the older Sam's voice as he paced the length of the room. "You have to plan everything carefully, because if he realizes you know, you'll lose the element of surprise. You can't afford that."

"Got it," Sam nodded, his eyes tracking his future self's anxious movements as he stood to the side, listening.

"You'll have to handle Leo carefully. He and Gideon were very close. He won't easily be able to stomach it when he finds out his mentor and close friend was the one responsible for turning his firstborn son."

"So, what, I should try to find proof before I talk to Leo?" Sam asked, frowning

"No, that's not what I mean." The elder Sam clenched his fingers together in a nervous gesture, finally coming to a standstill in front of Sam. "He'll have a hard time swallowing this at first, but he's already had to accept that his son is going to turn evil. He won't make the mistake of disregarding warnings from the future again. It's just that he'll have to be careful how he acts around Gideon, and he's not that great at pretending. I also think he could be really furious, too, and want to go after him immediately, but that would alert Gideon too early. So you- and Chris too, probably- will have to talk him down."

"And what do I say when Chris asks me why you didn't tell him all this?" Sam asked.

"You can say you don't know," the other man said. "It's the truth."

Sam studied him. His counterpart's expression was blank and inscrutable, but he also knew himself. He knew what it looked like when he was telling a half-truth, and he could recognize it in his future self. "That isn't all of it, is it?" he asked with a sense of foreboding. "There's more to this than just Gideon."

"You're right, there is." The older Sam looked away from him quickly, but not fast enough for Sam to miss the flash of anguish in his eyes. "The truth is, there's a second evil that turned Wyatt. It wasn't just Gideon. It won't be enough if you stop him, because we did that the first time and we thought it would be enough...but it wasn't."

"A second evil?" Sam stared at his future self, not sure if he was hearing this correctly. "But Paige asked us about this a few weeks ago, and Chris said you were sure it was just one threat that turned Wyatt. He said-"

"I was sure. I always thought it couldn't be anything else, because the Halliewells raised him and Chris right. They were around evil a lot, all of them, but they were also the best people I've ever known. The idea that Wyatt was turned because of multiple demons seemed ridiculous, but then Dean possessed me, and right before I died, I saw..." He shuddered a little, trailing off. "Anyway, that was in the first timeline. I only remembered all this a week ago. I didn't know until then."

"But you know now."

Future Sam nodded, then met his eyes again. "I can't tell you," he said, "but you'll find out eventually. And then you'll wish you didn't."

The voices faded from his mind as he came to a stop before his room. Sam's chest felt tight with unease as he reached for his keys. He wanted more than anything to know what that second evil had been, and he couldn't understand why he wasn't allowed to know now. For a moment he was deeply tempted to just read the letter Future Sam had given him and get all the answers, but he shook off the impulse and unlocked his door.

The first thing he noticed when he walked in was Dean sitting on the edge of his bed, his face bruised from where he'd hit the wall that morning. Sam felt a twinge of guilt at the lines of pain on his brother's face, but then he noticed the motel room safe lying open and the letter clutched in Dean's hands. His every thought was replaced by pure, unadulterated panic.

Dean jerked the envelope towards him, his eyes hard. "You want to explain to me what the hell this is?"

"Tell me you didn't read it," said Sam, his voice coming out trembly and strange, his heart pounding in his chest. "Dean, please tell me you didn't, because you could have ruined everything-"

"I didn't." Dean stared at him, obviously shocked by his reaction. "Relax, okay? I didn't get a chance to open it yet, even if it was laughably easy for me to guess the code. I can't believe you just used my birthday. But seriously, Sammy, what is this? Why's it in your handwriting, and why did you try to hide it away?"

"It's a letter, but I'm not supposed to open it yet." Sam crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the other twin bed, facing Dean. "My future self, he gave it to me. Told me I shouldn't read it until- well, that part wasn't clear. He said I'd know when."

"Yeah, because that makes perfect sense." Dean watched him closely, a heavy frown on his face. "Was that the only thing he said?"

Sam flinched and looked away.

"Sam?"

Suddenly, it was all too much. The events of the last two days slammed into him, and Sam exhaled sharply, words spilling out as he found it impossible to keep this to himself anymore. "It was awful, Dean," he said in a low, choked voice. "Phoebe's daughter tried to kill me, and Henry Jr., Paige's son, he died trying to save me. They're both dead now, and Chris is wrecked, and we have to fix it, because if we don't, I'll never forgive myself. My future self, he told me...he told me who turns Wyatt." Dean's eyes went wide with surprise. "And he said there would be a moment when I'd feel like he'd betrayed me, and this letter would explain why. He said we'd have to stick around for years, to see this thing through with Chris, because it wasn't just one the threat, and I don't even know what-" Sam's voice fractured, and he drew in a shaky breath.

Dean stared at him, horrified and alarmed by his distress. He reached out and laid a hand on Sam's shoulder, and Sam sagged into the touch, leaning forwards so his head brushed against his brother's shoulder. "Tell me everything," Dean commanded. "Now."

TBC...