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Silence of Tomorrow
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Disclaimer: I do not own and most likely never will, own Charmed. I do, however, own this computer, as disease ridden and virus infected as it is. :P
A/N: This story takes place a few months after Chris was born, so it will not include Billy and her sister, as I was unfortunately not able to watch the last season, so I have absolutely no clue as to who they are.
oOoOoOoOoOo
"This life's dim windows of the soul
Distorts the heavens from pole to pole
And leads you to believe a lie
When you see with, not through, the eye."
-William Blake, The Everlasting Gospel
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I glared down upon the fallen woman, crimson tears slowly bleeding into my vision, distorting my view of the defenceless witch. Her bright, red hair that had been so carefully straightened and combed that very morning was spread out around her in tangled heaps; a mockery of the crimson substance that gradually flowed from the used corpse, draining her and stealing her last ounce of strength.
Her stained lips were parted in a silent scream of pain that may very well have been her last. Blood painted her face, dribbling where her still warm tears fell. Bruises adorned her pale, exposed arms and her leg twisted underneath her in what seemed a very…uncomfortable pose. She wasn't so powerful now. Without her sisters, she was nothing.
I carelessly wiped away the blood that trickled down my ruggedly handsome face, whose ethereal pulchritude has dared been the inspiration of many a psalm, and stepped closer to the source of all this blood. I breathed in the sweet, tangy scent that accompanies the delicious fluid, and carefully untangled a stray strand of red hair. A deeply etched smirk spread across my face.
Most people would have run screaming, but not I, for I have seen sights far worse. What makes me different from most people then, what sets me apart? Many things, things that I cannot list, for if I did we'd be here for the next century and still not be through half of it for I am that remarkably amazing, but first and foremost--I'm a demon.
No, I am not one of those adorably cute, puerile demons that seem to litter the children's section of libraries nowadays. No, I am so much more. I am a creature of the night (or day, it's all the same in the Underworld), the very thing that haunts you in the deepest stages of sleep.
I retracted my gnarled fingers and contemplated the figure that lay in front of me. Was this really what she was reduced to, after a mere hour of torture? The witch that had managed to thwart Balthazar, one of the greatest demons that ever lived, in an alternate reality, might I add. The witch whose birth, along with those of her sisters, had been prophesied centuries ago; the woman whose very name struck terror in even the most formidable of demons…is this is?
Shrill cries suddenly rang throughout the otherwise silent manor. Ah, the fruit of the journey. The baby's face flushed an angry red as it thrashed violently, waiting for his mother to come rushing in to save him from the big, scary demon towering over the still form of his aunt. The poor little thing, so caught up in this web of lies; I can only hope that it is not too late.
I cautiously approached the crib. It was painted a dreadful baby blue, with little, yellow ducks running along the sides. Whoever had thought up this design deserved the fate that awaited them from the depths of Purgatory. It was probably an Elder, what with their holier-than-thou attitudes and blindingly bright dressesof theirs I wouldn't be surprised.
Wait, I think they're trying to pull them off as robes now. Pfft, those pansy assed Elders are even worse than those filthy banshees, and I should know, having had a nasty little run in with them about a year ago. They won't be a problem any longer.
Trying not to frighten the little thing enough for it to orb out, I held out a hand. A smirk slowly played across my (ruggedly handsome) face as the child stopped trying to yell me deaf for a bare millisecond, long enough to tell me that it was interested.
I bent down and picked up the toddler, soothingly rubbing his back to try and calm him down. Soon, his piercing cries faded down to jarring hiccups as I continued to rub his back soothingly and I was once again able to regain proper neuro-functions. The child snuggled into my neck, soon falling sound asleep. That's it; give in to the power, soon it will all be mine.
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The muffled creak of the front door being kicked open resonated throughout the ancient manor, alerting the figure that lay hidden in the shadows. He clutched the tiny form that clung steadfastly to the front of his cloak and smirked. The dark form slowly walked over to the woman that lay bathed in blood on the pinewood floor and gave her a swift kick across the face.
Her head swung to the side and her eyes flickered for barely a second before she was once again sinking into the murky depths of unconsciousness. Regardless of the woman's apparent comma-like state, the figure knelt in a rapidly growing puddle of a crimson liquid and firmly grabbed her chin.
"Listen, nothing personal, 'kay? Alright, you caught me, that's a down right lie, I hate you. Don't…don't tell anyone about what happened here today, alright?" He laughed and lightly patted her cheek. The air then gently shimmered around him, as if someone had thrown a pebble into a lake, and he and the baby flickered out, leaving behind an empty room with but a single woman lying unconscious on the cold, wooden floor.
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Piper clumsily hobbled up the steps, weighed down by at least thirty pounds of clothes, and Phoebe was still unloading the car for the rest of it. She finally grew tired of trying to balance all the bags into one hand and noisily kicked the door open, fumbling sideways through the doorway. A tiny bead of sweat dripped down her face, illustrating the difficulty of carrying at least fifty shopping bags filled to the brim with unnecessary accessories that would probably never be looked at again.
The witch kicked off her shoes and bravely took a step forward, nearly collapsing in the hallway under the heavy weight. 'Come on, only three more meters.' She would not, could not leave the shopping bags scattered about in the hallway, her sisters would never let her live it down. She took another pain filled step forward, then another and two more. Her face was drenched in sweat and if her heart didn't stop beating so hard she was going to get a heart attack!
She shook her head and thought, 'No, you can do this, just two more steps.' Her foot lifted into the air, and was promptly dropped down once again as her eyes widened in shock. It felt as if her foot had sixty invisible pounds strapped onto it. She practically started crying then, as hopelessness started to settle in. She wasn't going to make it. 'No! I made it this far, I will not give in!'
She courageously lifted the fifty or so bags and once again set off for the sunroom. She took one step and another tiny step forward before Gravity decided that he wanted in on the fun and grabbed a hold of her leg, ruthlessly pulling her down. Her legs shook from the strain of the battle, but she held on. She fought demons for a living, she could do this!
She courageously tried to lift her right leg, but Gravity held on tight with a devilish smirk. He was pulling with all his might and she did not think that she would be able to win this tug of war. No, she had to keep trying; she was nothing if not stubborn. She just had to think, how could she beat Gravity when he was infinitely stronger than she was? An idea suddenly popped into her head, bringing a smirk to her face. Piper sighed loudly and dropped her arms.
"I give up, Gravity, you're just too strong. Looks like I'm going to have to forever suffer the fate of having left all my shopping bags scattered across the floor in a horrendous disarray. Oh, what a horrible fate indeed, I don't know how I'll be able to bear the humiliation."
Gravity's smirk grew to horrific proportions as he loosened his hold on Piper's leg, assuming the battle was won. As soon as Piper felt his arms go slack, she giggled in glee and practically hopped the last step (practically, not actually, as Piper doesn't hop; no, of course not) before collapsing on the couch, bags scattered across the floor in front of the couch. She had made it!
Piper smiled and mentally patted herself on the back; she didn't think she had the energy to do it any other way. The front door once again creaked open as Phoebe made her way in. Piper sat up and wiped her forehead, a prominent grin marking her face. Now she could watch someone else struggling with the weight of fifty or so bags.
The grin was promptly wiped off her face as her younger sister waltzed into the room, a teeny tiny, itsy bitsy, virtually microscopic make up bag hanging off one arm and her purse on the other. Smoke was practically pouring out of the eldest Charmed One's ears. Her face had long ago passed turning crimson red and was now gradually turning a very unhealthy shade of purplish black.
"Hey Piper, thanks for taking in all the bags. I-Are you sick or something? Your face is turning kind of purplish…"
Phoebe never got to finish her sentence as they heard a quiet laugh come from upstairs.
"Wasn't Paige baby-sitting Chris today while we went shopping?"
"Er, yeah…Phoebe, what's your point?"
"Then why did that sound like a man?"
The two witches looked at each other with wide eyes, all anger pushed aside in place of fear as the pieces finally started to fit together. They rushed up the stairs two at a time and crashed into the nursery, almost wishing that they hadn't.
The blood, it was everywhere. The dark red liquid was smeared across the furnishings, drying in the form of various smudged handprints.
It coated the beautifully preserved pinewood floor, seeping into the occasional crack here and there, and crusted over near the freshly painted, baby blue walls, where it wasn't as thick. The occasional drag mark perturbed the drying blood, and the house seemingly mourned its fallen master as crimson tears ran down the walls. And in the middle of all this blood, her very life essence, she lay.
The two sisters were mortified to see their youngest sister, Paige, lying unconscious on the ground, blood coating the floor all around her. They both ran over to their youngest sister, tears all ready running down their faces. Phoebe gently cradled her sister's head while Piper frantically called for her husband, not knowing how much longer Paige could hold on.
Twinkling, blue lights soon formed near the ceiling, descending and swirling together to reveal cropped, blonde hair tangled in disarray and two baby blue eyes grinning in mirth, a child nestled safely in a tangle of bright blue and soft cotton. The smile quickly faded as the man took in the situation.
"Wh-what happened? Why's there so much…blood?"
"Leo, please, you have to heal her! I don't think she can hold on much longer."
The whitelighter quickly dropped to his knees and carefully lay Wyatt down. His hands trembled slightly as they hovered over his unconscious charge, expelling a soft warmth that seeped into her skin, spreading throughout her immobile body and creeping into various, hidden nooks and crannies.
Blood seeped into the wounds to its rightful place as once fatal wounds were tethered back together. Countless burns and bruises that adorned the pale figure faded away, leaving her skin smooth and untouched as a soft, winter's snow, before the children trampled into the yard and threw themselves into the delicate snowflakes that blanketed the world one on top of the other. Bones cracked as her leg righted itself and healed, draining the excruciating pain until all that was left was the soft whisper of the woman's name, repeating itself over and over again.
As soon as the soft glow disappeared the man was pushed to the side as two sisters launched themselves at their sibling, each needing the reassurance of warm skin untouched by the blood that had only moments before bathed the room in a dark red and a steady beat of a heart as it diligently pumped life through the woman's veins.
Leo's brow wrinkled as he rocked back on his heels, lifting himself up a bit to get a better view across the room.
"I didn't know you had taken Chris over to Sheila's. I would've taken him if you had told me."
"We didn't…"
Piper trailed off as all three heads turned at once, taking in the baby blue crib that innocently lay in the center of the room. The yellow ducks that adorned the crib smiled creepily back at the three, their eyes glinting with the shared knowledge of a deep, horrifying secret. Piper slowly stood up and made her way towards the crib, the pit of her stomach seemingly rising in revolt.
The corner of a peach coloured blanket peaked out through the bars from where it lay crumpled to the side. Chris' favourite stuffed dog, the one that he could never fall asleep without, was tossed to the side with obvious disregard. And finally, there was a faint, bloody handprint that could barely be made out against the baby blue of the freshly painted crib.
All of these things would have normally frightened the witch, but no, not today, for what she was really focusing on was not the crumpled blanket, nor the forgotten toy, not even the bloody handprint, but what was missing. She faintly heard her sister and husband coming up beside her, and two separate gasps as they both came to the same conclusion that she had, just moments ago. Her son, Christopher Perry Halliwell, was gone.