Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, concepts, or plot arcs of Charmed.

The outdoor café was at a lull around three in the afternoon. Twenty-year old Wyatt Halliwell sat across from his aunt Paige at a small table underneath the restaurant's canopy. It was a hot afternoon in May and it was nice to get into the shade for a little bit.

They'd just given their lunch orders to the waitress when Paige eyed her nephew knowingly and decided to get straight to the point. "You're frustrated, aren't you?" She could see it in the wrinkles on his forehead and the way his shoulders slumped.

Wyatt sighed. "I can't be a white lighter."

"Yes, you can. Trust me. I didn't think I could do it either, but now I can't imagine my life without it. You'll get the hang of it." Paige watched him shrug like he didn't really believe her. She asked, "What happened now?"

"My charge still hates me. I tried to talk to him about personal gain last night and he punched me." Wyatt tilted his head to show off the bruise on his jaw line. "Then, today, I caught him trying to break into a liquor store using his powers. He's out of control. Way too much to handle for a newbie."

"You're not a newbie. It's been over a year since you started this, and I think you're really growing into it."

Wyatt shook his head. "That sounds like a typical white lighter response to me."

"Well, I am a white lighter, aren't I?" Paige said, raising her eyebrow. She then sobered. "Listen, I understand how you feel. But part of being a white lighter is getting through to your charges. Maybe he thinks you're trying to control him." She shrugged.

"You're saying I'm controlling?"

"No," she said in a tone that said how ridiculous that was. "What I'm saying is that when someone finds out they're a witch, sometimes they want to take advantage of it. And if you're the one telling him he can't do that, then of course he'll want to rebel against it."

"So what am I supposed to do? Let him do whatever he wants?"

"Of course not. But you have to relate to him. You know what it's like to want to use your powers for everything. Your parents went through hell trying to wrangle you as a kid."

Wyatt had to smile at that, nodding his head in a nostalgic fashion. "Yeah, they did."

"It's not something to be proud of, believe me," Paige mumbled. "You've also got to show him what happens when you use magic in a bad way. Show him how dangerous it is."

"I have! How did you think I got this?" He pointed to the bruise on his face.

"Show him. Don't just lecture him about it."

Wyatt nodded. "I guess. But you don't know him like I do. He's way past any help I can give."

Paige bit her lip, an idea brewing in her head. "Maybe you're right. Maybe he needs someone more experienced to get through to him. But I do think you need experience working with a witch that loves their magic a little too much."

"But you'll reassign him?"

Paige laughed at how eager he sounded to unload the out-of-control witch. "I can take care of it. But I have just the witch in mind for you to work with instead."

Wyatt frowned. "Who?"

"My daughter."

"Allison or Jessica?" Wyatt didn't give her a chance to answer. "Neither of them seem like they overuse their magic."

"I don't think personal gain is the issue. But Allison seems more and more eager to get out there and fight demons. She doesn't understand that it's more complicated than that."

"She's only fifteen," Wyatt marveled.

"Fifteen to a fifteen-year old feels old," Paige said. "You know, she's doing well at magic school and she wants a chance to apply what's she learned. I'm just getting scared that she's going to go looking for trouble if someone isn't watching out for her."

"And you think she'll listen to me?"

"You're her cool cousin Wyatt! Of course she will. More than her mother. Which is what she's been calling me lately. Not Mom, but Mother." Paige shuddered. "It makes me feel even older than I already am."

"You're still the youngest Charmed One," Wyatt said in a positive tone.

"True. And I plan to hold onto that title for the rest of my life," she said with a smile. "So what do you think?"

"To being my cousin's white lighter? It's got to be easier than anyone else. She already likes me."

Paige nodded. "Well, don't get too comfy. She's been pretty moody lately. Don't let her go crazy, but don't talk down to her either."

Wyatt laughed at the semi-contradictory advice. "I'll do my best." Wyatt paused as he heard a familiar voice in his head calling his name. "Uh oh. 911." Wyatt pushed his chair back to get up.

"What is it?" Paige asked.

"Sounds like my brother is in trouble. Thanks for the advice Aunt Paige," he said, giving her a grateful look. She smiled, and he went to duck into an alley so he could orb to the Underworld.

When he materialized, he took a moment to assess the situation. He'd landed in a dark, narrow passageway. He was about to walk ahead when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He jerked around, ready to TK a demon into a wall, but stopped himself when he recognized his brother.

"What's the emergency?" Wyatt demanded. Instead of answering, Chris moved forward to lead the way and Wyatt followed closely. When Wyatt repeated his question, Chris shushed him and crouched down on the edge of a demon's lair.

"What is it?" Wyatt whispered.

"I was tracking this demon," Chris explained in an equally hushed voice. "I followed him here, but I didn't think he'd be so popular. He's got at least five demons with him."

"So you called me for back-up?"

"Yep." Chris slapped a couple potion vials into his brother's open hand. "Cover me."

They crouched down and peered into the lair, watching the demons talk back and forth about their amateurish plans to rule the Underworld. "You know," Wyatt said. "If you're gonna blow off stuff to hunt demons, give me a call next time."

"Shh," Chris said, though he had a smile on his face.

"Seriously. I'd love to play hooky for a day and kick some ass. I never get out anymore."

The attention of the demons was finally drawn to the two brothers, and they took the cue, straightening. Between the two of them, they threw six potion vials and directed them to their targets using their telekinesis. In less than ten seconds, they'd vanquished all six demons.

"You want to go again?" Wyatt asked. "I bet there's a few low level demons skulking around here somewheres."

Chris looked tempted, but he grimaced. "No, I can't. I was supposed to be at magic school over a half hour ago. Dad'll kill me if I'm any later."

"You want to trade with me?" Wyatt grinned.

"Are you kidding? In a heartbeat. I spent too much of my childhood in that place as it is, and now I've graduated and I'm still in school."

"Your choice," Wyatt reminded him.

"I think I was delirious when I made that choice. Or drunk. Something," Chris mumbled.

"Drunk? You don't drink."

"I might start now." Chris shook his head to dismiss the subject. "I really gotta go. I'll see you at home."

"See ya." Wyatt did a mock salute to his brother, the aspiring teacher, and watched him orb away.

When Chris arrived in the great room at magic school, he was prepared for an instant lecture from his father. It took him a moment, but Chris finally spotted Leo down the hallway, talking to one of the teachers. He took a deep breath.

It seemed like he was always disappointing his dad these days, but it wasn't like he meant to. Chris was the type of person that could never get comfortable doing the same thing. When he told Leo that he wanted to be a teacher, it was because he wanted a career in magic. But now, Chris was realizing that what he meant by "career in magic" was really a career in demon hunting. His mother and aunts had always wanted a normal life apart from demons and magic, but Chris wanted the exact opposite. He liked the unpredictability that came with being a full time witch. He loved the action, the power, and most of all, he loved the rewarding feeling it gave him. Every time he vanquished a demon, he felt accomplished. He felt like he'd really made a difference in the world.

Leo was approaching him now, and Chris raised his eyes. He never hung his head around Leo. He refused to ever let his father make him feel vulnerable.

"Hey Dad," he said.

Leo smiled. "Hey Chris. How was your morning?"

Ordinarily, Chris would expect the question to be asked in sarcasm, but he was genuinely asking. Chris frowned. "Okay, I guess. Aren't you mad?"

Leo sighed and sat down at the large desk in the back of the room. "No, I'm not mad."

"Hmm." Chris slid on the edge of the desk. "Disappointed?"

"No." Leo laughed lightly. "I mean, I'm a little sad that this isn't your calling, but that seems to be what we're dealing with here."

"Not my calling?"

"You've been Professor Taylor's teaching assistant for three months now. I think you've been on time maybe five times."

"I'm sorry, Dad. You know how I am with time. Even in high school, I sucked at it."

"It's nothing to be sorry about. I just wish you'd talk to me if you're not happy. I can tell you hate this. What about it don't you like?"

Chris shrugged. "The kids, I guess."

"The kids?"

"Yeah, I mean, they're either kids that don't want to be here at all or kids that want to be here too much. You know, the teacher's pets and the suck-ups."

"Chris,"

"No, see?" Chris interrupted, knowing that Leo was going to disagree with the way he'd worded his assessment. "I'm horrible with kids 'cause half the time, I don't care. I hate tutoring for written exams and when I help with the practical stuff, I just get frustrated 'cause they're not getting it."

"You don't mind helping Mel, or your cousins."

"Well, that's different. I have an invested interest in them doing well 'cause they're my family. I don't care about these random kids."

Leo stared at him sadly.

"I didn't say it wasn't horrible," Chris added. "But that's the way it is."

"I wondered as much," Leo said with a sigh. "So, I came up with a project for you. One that you might enjoy a little bit more."

"What?"

"We have a student that's been missing classes regularly. His parents are telling us that he's not interested in his magic anymore."

Chris shrugged. "Sounds pretty normal to me. I'm telling you, Dad, at least a third of the kids hate it here."

Leo frowned. "We'll work on changing that later. For now, I want you to talk to this boy. Encourage him. Help him understand that being a witch is part of who he is, and he shouldn't run from it."

"That sounds like a white lighter job."

"Not quite. White lighters don't usually work with young children. And you're going as a representative of the school. Not the Elders."

"Same difference. You want me to guide a future witch. That's what white lighters do, and that's not my thing. It's Wyatt's."

"That doesn't mean it can't be yours too."

Chris sighed. His whole life he'd been trying to find an identity of his own. He didn't want to do whatever his brother did. Besides, Wyatt seemed to like working with future witches and white lighters. Chris was really starting to hate it.

"I like being in the fire, Dad. I want to be in the field, not stuck at the office."

"Fighting demons isn't a career, Chris. You don't get paid to do that like you do this."

"We should," Chris mumbled. It was odd to think that the Elders were doling out salaries, but the teachers that put their time in at magic school needed to pay the bills like everyone else, so the Elders made sure they were compensated appropriately, even if a little magical intervention was needed at times.

Leo shook his head in dismissal. "Teaching these children is important for the future. One day, they'll be stepping into our shoes."

"Dad, I'm eighteen. Shouldn't I be an expert before I turn around and teach? I need the work experience first, which I'm trying to get."

"You're an expert at controlling your powers, which is what's needed. I don't think the parents want you teaching them to fight demons."

Chris sighed. "Fine, well I'm not interested in preparing them. I live in the present, not the future. I don't care about the future."

His father smirked, which Chris didn't quite understand, but Leo continued. "I understand. But I'm thinking that this is more you not being ready."

"You think I'm too immature."

"I didn't say that."

"But that's what you meant."

"I think you need some time to figure out who you are."

"I know who I am. I'm a witch; I'm the son of a Charmed One, and I'm damn proud of it. Why do I have to be anything else?"

Leo sighed. Chris took that as a sign that his father had no answer other than 'Because you just do.' But Chris knew that he was an adult now, and his days of outright rebellion needed to come to an end. He'd be adult about it. He'd try it, and then he'd quit.

"I'll talk to the kid. If that's what you want," Chris said.

"I'd appreciate it," Leo said with a nod. "But before you go, Professor Taylor wants you to start grading final exams."

Chris groaned. "All right, I'll do it." He turned and trudged down the hall to Professor Taylor's classroom.

There was something wrong with her picture. Melinda just knew it. She'd been staring at the canvas for several minutes and she'd made minor adjustments, but still something looked off. Her sophomore art class had just started practicing still life paintings. For her project she'd arranged some of her mother's pots and cooking utensils on the countertop so she could paint them from the kitchen table.

Biting her lip, Melinda placed her brush into the small cup of water nearby and swirled it around to clean off the paint. She heard footsteps behind her and turned just in time to see her mother walk in.

"Mom, can I get your opinion?"

Piper smiled and walked over. "Anytime. What's up?"

"Something needs to be fixed, but I don't know what." Melinda pointed to her painting and frowned. With a hand on her hip, Piper examined the painting.

"I think it looks great."

Melinda sighed. "How do you expect your children to ever improve if you coddle them?"

Wyatt entered the kitchen, having overheard, and said, "Oh, she doesn't coddle anyone. Believe me."

Piper gave her eldest son a playful slap and smiled, focusing back on her daughter. "Well, honey I'm not a painter. I can't tell you what's wrong. Why don't you ask your teacher?"

She rolled her eyes. "Miss Barry? I don't think so. She thinks being an artist is all talent and no skill. It's something you're born with, not something you learn. She only works with the kids that are already brilliant."

"Doesn't sound like much of a teacher," Wyatt said, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.

"She's not. But she's the only art teacher our school has," Melinda said with a deep sigh. "I might as well give up. I'm clearly not gifted enough for her or her class."

"Now don't say that." Piper sat down in the chair beside her and put a comforting hand on her arm. "Your dad and I didn't raise you to give up. Halliwells are tough. We don't let people tell us we can't do things."

"She's right, Mel," Wyatt put in. "If there are some kids in your class that she thinks are brilliant, why don't you ask for their help?"

"What, like a tutor?" Melinda had a look of distaste in her expression. "I don't think so."

"Why not?" Wyatt frowned.

"Because tutors talk down to you," she said. "I don't need to be patronized. I'll figure it out myself."

Wyatt smirked, glancing between his mother and sister. They didn't just look alike; they sometimes acted alike too. Halliwells were also stubborn, and Wyatt's two younger siblings certainly didn't lack any of that gene.

The subject seemed dismissed as Melinda went back to working on her painting and Piper started to move through the kitchen to make a shopping list. Wyatt watched the concentrated look on his baby sister's face and with a sudden realization, he no longer saw the face of a baby in her. She was fifteen now, growing into a young woman. She hadn't seemed interested in boys yet, but Wyatt knew it was only a matter of time.

With how focused, and almost stressed, she seemed over her painting, Wyatt wondered if public school really had been the best thing for her. All the Hallliwell children, including Aunt Phoebe and Aunt Paige's kids had attended Magic School up until the age of ten so that they could learn to control their powers and understand when it is and isn't appropriate to use magic. Once they reached the junior high level, their parents gave them a choice. Wyatt and Chris had stayed at Magic School, along with some of their cousins, but Melinda had wanted to give the normal school a try. Wyatt was just concerned that she sometimes felt a bit ordinary; at Magic School, they were made to know every day how special they all were. But maybe that was why she was so interested in painting. She wanted a way to stand out, not just from the kids at school, but from all of her cousins.

Of course, finding a life outside of magic seemed to be the Halliwell women way. Wyatt and Chris, on the other hand, wanted to be up in it twenty-four seven.

"What are you doing here, Wyatt?" his mother asked, breaking him from his daze. "I thought you had a shift at the restaurant."

Wyatt sighed. "I had to get Mike to cover for me. White lighter problem."

"I don't understand why you have that job anyway," Melinda said. "Do you want to be a professional waiter? Oh, you know what? I think they have competitions for people like that."

"Oh shut up, Mel," Wyatt said. "I happen to do it because it pays well. And I kind of would like to have some money to buy stuff. And it's the perfect job because I have a boss that understands our type of family emergencies," he explained, giving his mom a smile, which she returned.

"What was the white lighter problem?" Piper asked.

"It doesn't matter. It's over, and I don't have to be this hooligan's white lighter ever again."

Piper raised her eyebrows. "I see. You pawned him off on someone else?"

"Pretty much, and my new charge is gonna be a breeze. I can tell already." As if on perfect timing, the sound of orbs tricking in came to their ears, and a moment later, the bright blonde hair gave their cousin Allison away. Her twin Jessica had recently dyed her hair a dark brown, a small attempt at being different from her sister.

"I'm here!" she said cheerfully, extending her arms in a model-like pose.

"Yes, we can see that," Melinda said with a chuckle. "No need for the dramatic entrance."

"I'm just excited," she said with a giddy smile, barely containing her squeal. Her eyes quickly found Wyatt. "So what do we do first? Do you like take me into the Underworld to feel things out?" Her question was accompanied with fluid hand motions.

"What? No," Wyatt said. "What made you think that?"

"Well, isn't that what you're training me for?" Allison asked.

"What's going on?" Piper asked.

"Aunt Paige wants me to be her white lighter," Wyatt explained, and then turned his attention back on his cousin. "Not your trainer, but your white lighter. You're not setting foot in the Underworld."

Allison looked crestfallen as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Then I don't understand the point. I thought when a witch got a white lighter, it meant she was ready to embrace her destiny."

Wyatt frowned. "You really should know better, considering your mom is a white lighter."

"If I'm gonna fight demons, I need to be ready, don't I?"

"You have at least five years to get yourself ready for this. You're still too young."

"Five years? In five years, I'll be twenty. You and Chris started when you were my age."

"Not with anyone's permission," Piper put in.

"So? The point is, they didn't die. They could handle it, and I can too. If we're not hunting demons, then what are we doing?"

Wyatt frowned. "Your mom didn't talk to you about the details? Why we were doing this?"

"No." She had a hard glare on her face. "But I think I'm starting to get the picture. You're not my white lighter. You're my babysitter."

"Allison," Wyatt started.

"No, I see how it is. You used to be cool, Wyatt, but now you're just a grown-up. All responsible and boring. You're just like your dad."

Melinda started laughing, which Wyatt didn't appreciate. Even Piper cracked a smile. Wyatt cleared his throat. "I'm not saying you'll never get to fight demons or go down to the Underworld; all I'm saying is not yet."

"So when?" Allison asked.

"That depends."

"On…"

"On the progress you make, and on your parents. When they say you're ready, then we'll talk about it."

Allison's opinion was made clear by her abruptly orbing out. The new witch/white lighter relationship wasn't what she had expected obviously. Wyatt sighed. "Well, that went well."

"Sounds like your new charge is gonna be a breeze," Melinda said, hardly stifling her laughter.

"When did she turn into such a diva?" Wyatt asked his mother. "She used to be a sweet little girl!"

"People grow up," Piper said. "Including you. Sweetie, I'm impressed. You've matured so much in the last year."

"And apparently became my father," Wyatt said, his horror easy to detect. "How did I go from nineteen to ninety so fast? I did used to be cool."

"You're still cool," Melinda said. "It's just a different kind of cool."

Piper approached the table and gestured to Melinda's paint supplies. "You should start picking up here, hon. I'm gonna start dinner soon."

"I thought you were going to the store," Melinda said.

"I was, but I think we've got enough to make do tonight. I'll go in the morning." Piper patted Melinda's shoulders and then went back to patrolling the kitchen to pull out supplies to start the meal, as Melinda started gathering her things.

Wyatt sighed. He couldn't believe he'd become an adult so fast. In high school, he and Chris had constantly gone on reckless missions to wipe every demon on the map. They still did to a certain extent, but the risk wasn't there anymore. He didn't get an adrenaline rush from hunting demons anymore.

He felt strongly now that he needed one last wild experience before he would accept the fact that he was an adult. The question was, what could he possibly do to give him that same rush?