The Mighty Belthazor

When he volunteered to be the bait to lure Piper back to the attic, he knew it would be bad. He didn't know it would be this bad, though. Everyone he'd killed, from the first witch to the last, ever innocent he'd tortured, even every demon he'd betrayed and murdered to rise in the ranks of the Brotherhood, screamed for justice or revenge. The pain was more than he could bear.

Then Piper was gone, and he was only dimly aware of Phoebe touching him, gathering him into her arms. Let me die! he wanted to tell her. He deserved it. He deserved worse for all he'd done.

Then Paige had orbed back into the attic with Piper and Veronica. Veronica. Whose voice he'd heard in his head, too. He'd stalked her, kidnapped her, tried to kill her, and now he couldn't bear for her to see him. "I gotta go," he said to Phoebe, shimmering out of the attic like a coward.

For some reason, he was drawn to the scene of the crime, the abandoned warehouse where he'd tormented Veronica. He huddled in a dark corner, arms wrapped around himself as the screaming in his head finally began to fade. The guilt, however, stayed. He should die for what he'd done. He didn't deserve to live.