Disclaimer: I don't own Charmed. Never have, never will. Unfortunately.
Summary: Chris looks back at what happened the day his home and family were torn apart. What was it that scarred him that day? One-shot.
Home. Four simple letters that combined to make the best word ever. Chris orbed into his own, well, former home. How could someone tear a home apart? He thought of the demon that had ended their home on that one fateful day. A single attack that had devastated his family. The consequences of destroying that one home had been enormous. Chris sighed. He wasn't going to think about that, meant not to think about it. His mind, however, refused to keep him shielded from the pain. Alone in the attic of the Manor, Chris slumped on a couch and let his mind take him back.
"Hey mom, Wy, anyone home?" the 14-today boy's voice rang throughout the large house. Chris walked through the house, smiling. His mom usually went all out for birthdays, and today was no different.
Balloons and streamers all over the hall, kitchen, living room, a stack of almost glitteringly shiny colourful presents piled neatly on the living-room table, cards along the mantle-piece.
A plain white envelope sat propped against a vase of flowers on a table in the foyer. Chris sighed. He'd been a fool to get his hopes up, to think that this year would be different…he knew what the letter, inside the envelope with Chris scrawled on it, would say.
"Hey Chris, Happy 13th birthday! (He always got the year wrong) Listen, I'm sorry I couldn't make it today, but some urgent Elder business came up… blah, blah, blah… I'll catch up with you sometime soon, take you for a treat. From Dad."
'That self-obsessed jerk' Chris thought, wiping a hand across his eyes. Forcing back the tears. 'One day I'm going to lose it with him and punch his lights out.' Not even bothering to open the letter, Chris tore it in half, then in quarters. He took a deep breath.
"Hey mom, Wy, where are you? Come on, this isn't funny. Aunt Phoebe? Somebody say something!" He meandered through the house, walking, for once not disobeying his mother's "no orbing in the house" rule. Something fluttered in his stomach, a growing uneasiness. His mom would say he was neurotic, but he had fought demons all his life. He thought he knew what the worst was.
Slowly, taking a million years, Chris reached the attic. His body told him to go backwards, every fibre in him was screaming in panic. "Don't go in there! Don't go in there!"
Chris jerked. For a second he stared around the attic wildly, seeing again the blood on the walls, his brother a mass of bruises, unconscious on the floor. His mother…
"Oh mom" he whispered.
"Dad!" Chris screamed. "Dad! Leo! Dad! Come on dad, they need help!" No one answered his summons. No helping, healing father came to his aid. He threw himself at his mom's side.
"Mom, come on, wake up. Come on mom, mommy. Mommy!" Piper's head stirred. Her eyes fluttered open. Chris smiled through unshed tears. "Mom, you're ok! You're going to be fine, you really are."
"Chris?" she asked weakly "Oh, my poor baby. I'm so sorry. I'm going to miss you." she whispered. This time, the tears came, round and salty, dripping from his chin onto Piper's wounds below.
"Mom, I can't heal you. Wyatt's unconscious, but I think he's ok. Don't worry mom, I'll go get a whitelighter. I'll get dad…"
"Chris… peanut, it's my time to go. My time has come, sweetie." Chris shook his head vehemently.
"No. No, it's not. You're not going to die. Are you listening, mom?" She sighed.
"Try to wake your brother. I want to tell you both something…" Chris nodded, and moved to where his elder brother lay. He shook his shoulders gently
"Wyatt? Hey, Wy, come on…" The blue eyes shot open.
"Chris? Wh-what happened?"
Chris pulled his brother to his knees, half dragging them over to Piper.
"He's awake, mom." Wyatt saw the state his mother was in, and yelped.
"Oh no! Dad! Come here!" For the first time in Wyatt's 16 years, his father didn't come. Wyatt held out his hands over his mother, and started to try and heal her.
"It's no use, Wy." Chris mumbled. "She's going."
"Wyatt… Chris, my strong boys. Be brave, and keep each other safe. You have to stick together, boys. Stick together, otherwise…" The soft mutter trailed off, and Piper's eyes closed. A wispy figure rose out of her body, smiled sadly at the boys, and floated away.
"No. No, this isn't right, mom. NNNOOO!" Chris screamed, leaping to his feet. The ground underneath trembled. Not from the San Andreas Fault, but from the screaming 14-year-old.
"Chris." Wyatt said, standing and grabbing his brother's shoulders, strangely calm. "Come on, bro, this won't help-"
"LEO WYATT!" Chris shrieked "YOU KILLED HER!" This time, he came. The sparkling, blue-white orbs formed into the boy's father, wearing pale gold, bulky robes that looked horrible.
"Chris, Wyatt, Blessed be. What do you need? What's wrong?" He wore a perplexed, bewildered look.
"Why didn't you come?" Wyatt spat.
"I was in a meeting with the other Elders. I had important things to take care of."
"More important than your wife?" Wyatt stood to the side, pulling a protesting Chris with him. "Let him look." He told Chris quietly.
"Boys, what is all this- Piper?" He moved to her side, knelt down, tried to heal.
"Don't bother, Leo. She's dead. You didn't come when she needed you. When we needed you. Get out of our house." Chris had calmed down, and he stared at Leo evenly as he spoke the words.
"Wyatt, Chr-"
"You heard him, Leo. Get out. Now." Leo looked at both of them, whispering,
"I'm sorry." Then he disappeared. Wyatt turned Chris to face him.
"Chris, we can't rely on Them anymore. They can't be trusted. The only thing that matters now is power. Whoever has the most power wins." His eyes were dark as he gazed at Chris. Chris stared back in surprise and fear, knowing something had changed. Knowing, somehow, that the inside was dark as well.
And that was it. His brother had never recovered. His Aunt Phoebe, having lost 3 sisters, withdrew into herself, leaving Cole to look after her. Their children, Chris' cousins, and Chris himself had gone to their Grandpa.
Wyatt… well, that's why Chris was back here, wasn't it? To stop what had happened to Wyatt. He had found out later that their mom's death hadn't turned Wyatt. It had only awoken something dormant, sleeping. Something that had started now, back in this time. A call intruded on his thoughts
"Chris? Chris Perry, are you at the Book again? We are NOT going demon-hunting tonight, so get your ass down here now!" Chris sighed. Even if no-one would take him seriously, at least he was at home. He orbed down at his mother's call, thinking about the word. Home.
AnimeAlexis: Ok, so I realised that this was a jumbled mess (thanks to shadowhisper and Redemmo!) so I decided just to separate it properly into new paragraphs to make it easier to read. This was one of my first fics, so I do apologise if it's bad. Thanks!
