Hello my dear readers, I decided to start another story. This is now the fourth part of the original story "Bedshaped". I love my characters too much and I feel something is missing when I'm not writing and posting it here and then wait for the reviews of you. I guess other authors feel the same...

In the last part, Wyatt went to New York and that is way the story is now placed on boths sides of the US. Wyatt's parts in New York and the rest of the family in San Francisco. I did not mark the changes of the places in this first chapter. I will do if anyone thinks that it will be easier but I felt that it sort of impaires the reading fluency.

I'm still in the writing process so I'm not sure yet where this story will lead me. It developes some life on its own.

Thanks to piperspeanut who is once again willing to waste her time beta-reading ;-) Thank you very much for your help!

Livingston - Once Again

the simple pages that you bought
will enlighten then your point of view
on that claim for witch you fought
was only allowed to hear
that this be the reason i should feel
and i'm the only one with this point of view
on that claim of yours was real... but too late

but once again i'll give in
to the spaces in between
and once again i'll feel it´s alright

you must be blind not to see
you're the only one that stay with me
while this room is empty no one cares of this fire
just still remains

(…)

the simple pages that you talk

came to late
white light

(..)

and once again i'll give in to the sound of us within
but once again i will feel it´s alright
and once again i'll feel it´s alright

watch?v=vYEt430cbpo

Chapter 1

Wyatt brought his bike to a sudden stop when his navigation system beeped indicating that he had reached his destination.

He took a paper roll out of the bags that hung right to left over the back wheel of his bike and went into the office building.

The concierge told him to use the elevator to the 13th floor.

Wyatt sighed. Always this number, he wasn't suspicious – maybe a little – but being the Twice Blessed he knew everything had a deeper meaning.

He took off his sun glasses and followed the instructions.

On the 13th floor was a newspaper office. He asked for the man whose name was scribbled on the parcel.

Brooke ducked behind her monitor.

She couldn't believe it. There he was!

The tall blonde man she had an eye on ever since he had moved in the house across the street from her. He had never noticed her hiding behind her self-made curtains watching him.

She wasn't a stalker or anything.

No, she was a serious reporter. Sure so far her greatest story was a school milk scandal which was way too ugly to even think of again.

However, this man…there was something about him. This close she saw he was younger than she had expected.

He was undeniable handsome. A tall, muscular Miami beach boy.

Well, at least maybe.

Brooke didn't know his name, his age or where he came from.

There you go, she thought. What kind of reporter was she if she couldn't even get some basic information on a simple neighbor of hers.

And that after three months, but to her excuse he had no name on the door bell and this wretched woman that was his landlady was extremely tight lipped when it came to something other than her favorite daily soap.

She sighed and watched him from her hidden position behind the monitor.

Why the hell was she hiding anyway?

He didn't know her.

Brooke shook her head and sat up straight.

He handed a parcel to Scott (probably the new draft of the advert for a special edition of the newspaper). The blonde took a tiny scanner from the inside of his red vest and Scott signed that he had received the parcel.

She saw him mouth "Thank you" and then he smiled.

Brooke felt her heart skipping a beat.

She looked after him and sighed again.

It wasn't his good looks that made her focus on him – at least not only. There was something mystical around him; a secret.

The neighborhood had changed since he was there.

Actually, it seemed like the whole city had changed…an odd coincidence? No, Brooke didn't believe in coincidences.

"Hi, Brooke sweetie, when you are done day dreaming, here are the statistics you wanted to have," Tim threw some papers on her desk.

"Oh, thanks, Tim." Brooke took a deep breath and concentrated on the numbers.

In the last three months crimes close to her house had been reduced for 40 % and crimes in the inner city for 25 %.

But at the same time number of complaints about noises and claims of extraterrestrial signs have increased – especially near her own place.

Yes, there was a secret around this handsome man – surely he didn't emerge a UFO that his parents had sent do earth when he was baby because their home planet exploded - and Brooke would be the one finding it out.

Brandon came back into the kitchen of the Manor tying his tie while he was walking.

He stopped abruptly eying the counter suspiciously. He turned to Chris who sat at the kitchen table eating cornflakes.

He hid behind the cornflake's box pretending to read the nutrition information on the back of it.

"Chris, are you maybe orbing my stuff around so I think I lost it?"

"Excuse me, I do what?" Chris said offended.

"I left my keys here on the counter, now they are gone. Moreover, I seem to lose a damn lot of my belongings lately."

Chris shrugged still not looking up. "Perhaps you should be more organized and why should I do that, anyway?"

"Just to annoy me," Brandon said.

Chris scoffed. "Don't you think I have better things to do than play childish tricks on you."

"Actually, no" Brandon left the kitchen. "I'm checking my room."

"Wyatt's room," Chris muttered. He looked up and pushed the cornflake's package aside.

He lent back in his chair.

A set of keys orbed onto the counter.

The young man stood up and put his empty bowl in the sink before leaving the kitchen.

On his way towards the front door he met Brandon again.

"Good luck with the key thing," he said.

Brandon sighed and went into the kitchen once more.

There lay his keys on the counter. "Funny," he said to himself. "Really very funny"

Chris pushed the double glass door open and entered the gallery. Handymen walked around hanging up pictures.

Justin stood in the middle of the room facing the wall as one of the men placed a large canvas where he was told.

"Isn't that upside down?" Chris asked cocking his head to one side.

The picture showed a bolt woman that lay decoratively on a black sofa. However, this way her head was upside down.

Justin turned around. "What do you know about art, Halliwell? It's the way the artist wants it to be," the blonde man replied sounding very distressed. "Thanks, just hang it there," he told the helper and stepped away from the wall. They walked to the reception desk where there was complementary coffee.

"Serve yourself," Justin took a plastic cup for himself and filled it with coffee.

"No, thanks, I had some with Amy. We are shopping actually but after shoe store number 10, I decided to take a break and see what's going on here."

"I'll tell you what's going on here, I tell a group of absolutely uninterested guys where to place this bunch of shit in this crappy thing pretending to be a gallery."

"You seem to be having a great day."

Justin nodded. "Perfect. Look at this offence to your eyes."

Chris looked around. Most pictures showed nudes of women in strange positions. "Maybe you are too gay for this," he offered.

"Lucky me…however, show me one of those pictures that you like. And most important, would spend a whole lot of money on to hang them in your dining room?"

"I can't, and you feel watched by the eyes. Who made them?"

"Some Swedish pervert my boss slept with a century ago."

"So, that's why we are never allowed to exhibit something here."

Justin shrugged. "I'm embarrassed sending the invitations for opening night. By the way, Thursday you will be here."

"Yahweh!"

Amy entered the gallery loaded with 6 bags of established but cheap fashion labels. She joined the boys.

"I found shoes!" Amy said.

"Easy when you are in shops that sell nothing but shoes," Chris replied.

"But not the right shoes, and why did you ran off and leave me to carry the bags around myself?"

"Because you are an independent woman"

"Not, when it comes to carrying bags," Amy pouted.

"Why are you shopping with this fashion zero instead with your best gay friend," Justin asked.

"Well because my only gay friend has to work."

"Don't remind me."

The young woman watched a man fixing a picture to the wall. "What kind of pictures are they anyway?"

"Stupid shitty pictures," Justin replied and followed her gaze. "And that's a vagina you are looking at."

"Isn't that upside down?"

Justin wanted to protest immediately but stopped. "If you say so…well, I have to deal with this. I'll see you later. Amy, Thursday it's the opening night. Be here."

She nodded; turning to her high school friend she whispered. "Do we have too?"

Chris put an arm around her shoulder. "It's what friends are for," he said as they left the gallery together.

Wyatt stopped his bike in front of a bench where a young man sat.

"Sandwich time," he said.

He sat down on the bench as well and opened his duffle and took two brown bags out of it.

"Great, thanks, man," Michael said. He unpacked his lunch, a tuna sandwich with sweet chilli dip. "How much do I owe you?"

"It's fine. It's on me," Wyatt said. "Just take care of your white coat."

"Sure, mommy" Michael laughed but took off his lab coat just to be on the safe side.

He really found it funny sometimes how his friend could always think of such banal things.

"How was your day so far?" Michael asked.

"Same as always," Wyatt replied between two bites of his own ham sandwich. "I was all the way downtown just to be called over to Brooklyn just to deliver something downtown again."

Michael laughed. "Well you wanted the shitty job. It's not like you couldn't get a well paid one in a nice office where you can have coffee at an actual table."

"I could but I didn't want to."

Michael shrugged. "It's your experiment."

"Right"

They sat together chatting about random things and eating. The sun came out between the clouds a bit shining down on them.

"Do you want to come to a party with me?" Michael asked as he threw his trash into the bin.

"I can't I'm going to an audition."

"Really do you think; it's smart wanting to become popular with being a witch"

Wyatt laughed. "It's only a tiny theatre. No chance to become popular there." The blonde shifted on the bench to relax his legs as he saw a well known person stepping out of the hospital.

"I need to go," he suddenly said. "See you."

"What, already" Michael asked surprised but Wyatt was already on his bike and quickly drove away.

"Wyatt!" Sue called after him. S he sighed as she stopped running and stayed next to the bench.

"He heard me, didn't he?" she asked.

Michael just shrugged. He didn't want to get involved in whatever it was that they had.

"Stupid jerk," she muttered. "He's in New York for three months now and we never talked. Listen," she addressed Michael. "Tell him to call me." She handed him a card. "I want to know what his problem is."

"Sure, will do."

"Thanks."

Michael watched her walking away and knew his friend wouldn't call her. He was quite sure he knew the reason: Wyatt was in love with her.

Brooke noticed that the lights were switched on in the apartment across the street.

Easy for her to notice, she had been sitting in her favorite armchair in front of the window.

She wasn't observing him. She just sat there every day when she was on the phone with her sister.

She saw the young man walking around forming a shadow in front of the window.

"So what do you think?" Barbara's voice came out of the phone.

Brooke snapped out of her thoughts. She had no idea what her sister had just been telling her.

"I'm your opinion," Brooke replied.

She watched her neighbor taking off his shirt. Of course she couldn't really see anything but nevertheless turned away from the window quickly.

"Brooke, have you even been listening to me. What are you doing?"

"Nothing…I'm sorry." S he looked back out of the window. After all if he didn't want anyone to watch he should get curtains.

"Barbara, I need to hang up. I call you back later, hon. Take care."

Brooke didn't wait for a reply. She put the phone on the table next to her and dared another glance.

However she jerked away at once as the young man stared right back at her.

The woman shook her head. He couldn't see her behind the curtain, and it was her home. She could look out of the window as long as she wanted.

She turned her attention back to the apartment on the other side of the street, but the light had been switched off and the room was only lit by the running TV.

Chris spotted Noelle standing at the bar with a young woman that was talking quite fast.

He waved at her and Noelle nodded and smiled.

"It is my parents' 30th wedding anniversary and I want them to have a romantic quite dinner," the customer said.

"No problem. Leave it all in my care. I promise they won't be disappointed," Noelle assured.

"Thank you," the other woman sighed. "I still have so much to organize."

Chris shook his head at the girl. She was dressed in red pants with a yellow shirt and a blue blazer on top. Her makeup was very heavy but her curly red hair was messy.

She took her large brown leather bag off the bar and said goodbye to Noelle.

As she was searching something in her bag she didn't pay attention and bumped right into Chris. Instead of apologizing she said: "Hey watch out."

The young man was caught off guard and didn't reply but looked after her.

"Bitch," he muttered.

"Hi," Noelle greeted him. "What are you doing here?"

"Me? Well, I'm checking to make sure you don't ruin our family business."

Noelle scoffed. "Okay. Do you want to see some calculation or accounting?"

"Nah, thanks. I was actually wondering do I still get free meals here?"

The dark haired woman smiled. "Sure. Come with me to the kitchen."

Chris followed her. Of course, the restaurant was going as good as always. He hadn't been serious. Noelle knew what she was doing. Besides, she would never let Wyatt know if there was a crisis. She was determined to show him what he was missing in her.

She showed Chris where he could sit down and left him for a few minutes to fill a plate.

"So, how are you doing? You look exhausted," she said.

"No, I'm fine. I had been shopping with Amy."

"I see."

"And you? Holly said, you are moving out"

"Yes, I am. I found a nice little apartment not far from here. It's not that I didn't like living with them but I need a place of my own."

"I totally understand. I wished I had a place for myself, too. Wyatt and his stupid ideas"

"I take it; it's not going too well with Brandon?"

"No."

"Kick him out," Noelle said. Chris understood it was only a joke but he said:

"I'm trying."

Noelle smiled.

"Hey, do you need help with the move? Just call! You know I can just…move things – easily." He waved his hand through the air indicating "orb" instead of "move".

"Changing the subject? Fine…yes, actually a bit of help would be nice. I'll take you up on that offer."

"will do."

"Have you talked to Wyatt lately? Is he okay?"

"Think so. He called a while ago."

Noelle nodded. "Good for him."

Chris stopped eating and looked at her a while. "Are you lonely?"

"Sometimes," she admitted. "You"

Chris shrugged. "Dunno."

Noelle laughed. "I can see through you. It's okay."

They sat together in silence for a few minutes until Chris suggested: "Do you think you will be lonely tomorrow, we could go to the movies?"

"Oh, yes, I'd like that. I think I can take the Thursday night off. I'm the boss after all."

"Right, there has to be something good about that."

Wyatt picked up his ringing cell phone.

"What's up?" he asked. He didn't have time to talk actually as he wanted to learn the script for the play he was auditioning for.

"Can't your brother call you from time to time?" Chris asked back.

"He can, but only from time to time and only with a good reason. I'm busy," Wyatt replied knowing Chris would A. not care and, B. know that Wyatt was despite his words always glad to hear a familiar voice.

"I have a good reason."

"Spill it." Wyatt took his mug of tea from the coffee table and sat down on the chair in front of the window.

The crazy girl from across the street luckily wasn't watching him anymore.

"Brandon is driving me nuts. I really hate you for this," Chris whined.

"From what I hear from Holly it seems as if you are trying your best to drive him crazy, too."

"Really, I don't know what you mean. I've been very nice considering the situation."

"Chris, look at it this way, two witches in the Manor are always better than one."

"What's that suppose to mean? I can protect the Manor just fine on my own."

"I only meant; about protecting yourself."

Chris rolled his eyes on the other end of the line.

The twenty two year old crossed the street and walked past a store.

"Everything is fine," he assured his brother. He turned into a backstreet where his car was parked.

Suddenly he heard a woman's voice calling for help.

Wyatt could hear it through the phone. "What was that?" but he got no answer. "Chris?" the line had been disconnected.

"Everything is fine, huh?" Wyatt said to himself.

He stood up again hoping his brother would be alright and call again soon. He glanced at the window opposite his.

There she was again, smoking at the open window.

Chris stuffed his phone back into the pocket of his jeans and hurried towards the place he heard the woman's cries.

A girl that seemed strangely familiar was defending herself against a demon with the top of a trash can.

She hit the demon against the head and he fell to the ground slightly dazed.

"Hey!" Chris called out and could duck her swing with the metal top. He took it from her with his telekinesis. "I want to help you."

"You?" she asked. "Who are you?"

"Chris Halliwell."

"Halliwell?"

Chris saw the demon recover and looked around. From the dumped trash can a bottle had broken on the ground.

He orbed a large piece of broken glass towards the demon. It hit him right where hi heart shuld be and stabbed him making him vanish in flames.

"Of course, I know you!" the girl exclaimed oblivious of the vanquish.

"Thanks, Chris, for saving me," the young man muttered to himself. "Nevermind."

"Every witch knows the Halliwells." She hadn't even listened to him.

"I'm flattered. So, you are a witch?"

"Yep."

"Then either learn to defend yourself or stay away from dark alleys."

"Hey, I have powers. Well, one. I can be invisible."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. See." She closed her eyes and scrunched up her face but nothing happened. She finally gave up and sighed. "I'm still training."

"Well, then good luck and mind the alleys."

Chris turned around and walked away. All of a sudden he remembered where he had seen her before.

She had been in the restaurant booking a table for her parents' wedding anniversary. He turned around again but she was already gone.

He shrugged and went to his car.

Wyatt knocked on the door – two times quick, three times slow – and then opened the front door to the small grey house. He walked straight into the kitchen and took a plate out of the cupboard. He then opened the plastic box with a hot meal and arranged it on the plate.

He also filled a glass with water and brought everything into the living room.

There sat an old man on the sofa watching TV. Several bottles with pills were standing on the small table in front of him and in the corner of the room was an oxygen machine.

"Finally, young man," he said in a husky voice. "You know I always eat at 1 pm every day."

"Yes, I do know, Mr. Jordan," Wyatt replied and placed the food in front of him. "There was an accident with three cars on the way, but I'm only 8 minutes late."

"Eight minutes, exactly…aren't you riding a bike, anyway?"

"Yes but the police had closed the whole place down."

Mr. Jordan scoffed. He eyed the meal suspiciously. "What is that?"

"It's chicken steak with marinade, potato wedges and tomatoes."

"Did you cook that yourself?"

"No." Wyatt sat down in the armchair opposite the old man. "I'm only delivering stuff, remember? It's good. Try it."

Mr. Jordan obviously doubted it but took a bite from the meat, nevertheless. He ate a while in silence then asked: "How is life treating you, Wyatt?"

"It's good, thanks. I actually auditioned for the play I told you about and got a little role."

"A little role"

"Yes, I'm the butler."

"Uhu. We all do what we can do best."

Wyatt grinned. "Seems so"

"At least you will find some friends."

"I have friends."

"Right, this boy…this doctor" Mr. Jordan shook his head. Doctors were not is favorite type of people.

"He is not a doctor yet."

"And how is this other friend, the girl you know from at home."

"Sue," Wyatt didn't want to talk about Sue. "She's alright, I think."

"You are not fooling an old man," Mr. Jordan winked. "But I'm no pry."

"Thanks."

"But let me give you some advice."

"Really I…"

"All I'm saying is that you should tell the truth, don't hide. Especially not from a woman, they can see right through us."

"I'm not hiding. I'm busy."

"Busy? With what, cycling through the Big Apple with food and mail"

"Yes, there's no work unworthy to be done. And besides, she is busy too and she has a boyfriend."

"Well, in that case everything is going fine for you." Mr. Jordan ate the last potato.

"Yes, everything is fine." Wyatt took the empty plate and took it into the kitchen. He did not have to wash it as Mr. Jordan had a cleaner but couldn't just leave the dirty dish standing there.

When he was finished he went back into the living room.

The old man took three pills and swallowed them with water.

"I need to go."

"Tomorrow then"

"Yes, of course."

Wyatt left the house and rolled his bike back on the pavement. He checked his mobile for the details of his next stop.

Haley and her partner Jack arrived at an old empty factory hall. They had the nightshift and Haley was glad she could share her shifts with Jack. He was in his late 20s with curly blonde hair and an infectious laugh. He was a police officer in San Francisco for 2 years now and a great mentor.

The area they had been called to tonight was a common place for crimes especially with drugs.

"Alright, Haley let's go. We are looking for a man, white, extremely tall and thin. Ready?"

"Sure, ready."

Jack parked the car and the two of them entered the building.

"Be careful," Jack said.

Haley nodded. "Don't worry so much."

Jack led the way into the hall.

He suddenly stopped, only having walked a few steps. "Did you hear that?" he looked around.

"I didn't hear anything," Haley replied but was alerted.

Jack shrugged and went on. "Sounded like jingling."

"Jingling?" Haley asked puzzled.

Suddenly Jack was thrown from an invisible force against the nearby wall.

"Jack!" Haley ran towards him. Her partner lay on the ground knocked out.

"Haley?"

She looked up. "Chris? What are you doing here?" she asked. "What did you do?"

"What are you doing here? Who is that?"

"I'm a cop, this is my partner Jack. We were called to a crime scene." Haley crossed her arms over her chest. "So, what's your excuse?"

"I found a demon here. Actually, it's good you are here. You can help me."

"What? No! I have to work. I can't vanquish a demon now."

"Haley, think about it. Your crime scene is probably my demon. Help me and you have done two jobs in one."

The dark haired girl sighed. He was probably right. Before she could answer the two witches heard a noise above them.

The large empty factory hall was surrounded by a balcony that could be reached by several metal stairs.

Haley followed her cousin upstairs.

"Do you know what kind of demon we are facing?" she asked.

"No. I only scryed for evil"

"Fantastic. Get a life, Chris."

"I have a life."

Halley decided it wasn't worth an argument and shrugged. She walked behind him. "I hope Jack is alright."

"Oh, come on, he's a cop. I didn't hit him that hard."

The young woman rolled her eyes. Suddenly the air rippled in front of them and an extremely tall thin demon stood in front of them.

He grabbed Chris and tried to push him off the balcony banister.

Haley reacted on an instant and created a short wall of flames between her-self and the demon who was caught off guard and let go off Chris.

"Flames!" Haley called out and orbed some of the fire towards the demon. It started burning around his middle section and vanquished him after a few moments.

Chris stood up. "Well done."

"Thanks." Haley decided to not mention that it happened that some demons didn't stay vanquished when she used her fire power on them.

"Haley!" Jack's voice echoed in the large building.

"Go," she told Chris. "Just go, hurry!"

"Relax."

She started hitting him against the chest. "Just go! Go!"

Chris orbed out unnecessarily slowly and Haley hurried down the stairs towards her colleague that rubbed the back of his head.

"Jack, are you alright?"

"Yes, I think. What happened?"

"Oh, you fell and hit your head. I wanted to call for help but then the fire distracted me." She pointed towards the flames.

Jack frowned. "It's okay. Let's get out of here."

Sure. Are you really alright?"

"Of course" Jack led the way outside. "I have a big head," he grinned.

Chris orbed into the conservatory of the Manor.

Brandon sat on the sofa surrounded by sheets of paper and flyers.

The older man looked up. "What's this smell, Smoke?"

"Yes, smoke…from a fire."

"A fire, Is everything okay?"

"Of course, what should be wrong?"

Brandon shrugged understanding that more questions would stay unanswered. He noticed Chris' focus on the documents around him.

"I want to go back to school."

"Why would anyone want that?"

"I'm thinking about studying law."

"Law" Chris shrugged. "Sure what else, After all you have a great sense of justice or revenge. However that seemed to be the same thing for you."

"Hey, I want to do something good in my life…something honorable"

Chris shrugged. "Whatever you want"

"Yes, fine, then."

"Fine"

"Fine"

They looked at each other for a moment.

"I'm taking a shower," Chris said turning and leaving the room. He really didn't care about Brandon. Just because they lived together didn't mean they had to like each other.

So, what do you think is it worth to go on writing?