No Hero, a charmed fanfic

It's not like I wanted to be a hero or anything. Far from it. It's just when your older brother turns out to be the Ultimate Leader of All Evil, you kinda sorta feel obliged to "go back" and fix it.

And when I say "go back", I mean "Go Back". Literally.

I mean to go back to the past. To try and change things for the better.

Even though I wasn't exactly jumping for joy when it was suggested I go to the past to change the future, I wasn't against the idea. I mean, my life was already screwed up. How much worse could it get, right?

Let's just say, it got worse.

I managed to save my aunt Paige from the Titans. That's pretty much the only good thing that came out of this entire screw-up. Where I came from, she was dead. Meta had turned her to stone and stolen her powers, killing her in the process. The three Titans decimated the Elders, and the world, before Mom and aunt Phoebe managed to stop them.

But I stopped that.

My Dad became an Elder. My Mom became single. My aunts…well, they kinda turned out okay, if you try not to think about how they both lost their loves because of magick.

I killed a Valkyrie. How screwed is that? Thanks to the Valkyries of my time, I managed to elude Wyatt for months when he was trying to "educate" me, aka Turn Me Evil. And how do I repay them? By killing one.

I screwed one of my charges. Guess the Cleaners missed that little memory. Or maybe their work doesn't work on me because I'm from a different time. Either way, I remembered. I felt so sick when I realised. I knew something was missing that night when I went to sleep… and then the next morning it hit me like a ton of bricks, just in time for Dad to orb in. It took everything I had not to let on something was wrong.

I was actually physically sick about five minutes after he left. Wyatt had always said I was weak, and maybe he's right. I'd betrayed my fiancée. It just violated all the morals and ethics I have. I'm not the type of guy to sleep around. It took me a long time to…well, not forgive myself, but to be able to actually sleep at night.

I was an idiot.

There, I've said it.

I'd thought Bianca would be okay. I'd thought Wyatt would leave her alone. It was me he wanted, not her.

Well, that's not strictly true. He wanted us both, but in different ways. Me, because I was the younger brother that was being a constant thorn in his side, sabotaging his plans at every possible time. And Bianca, because she was the most gorgeous woman in the world, and she was my girlfriend.

I screwed up big time with the David-thing. I tried to get Mom and Phoebe and Paige to bind Wyatt's powers. It would've made things a Hell of a lot easier for me if they had, but they wouldn't do it. But then, Paige and Phoebe created David for Mom's birthday.

It hurt. Seeing how much they hated me. They didn't want me there, in their home…my home. Actually, to be perfectly honest, it wasn't knowing that they hated me that hurt. It was knowing that they didn't even know who I was, and they still hated me.

I hated my father. I hated him so bad…I wanted to kill him. Hell, if I'd been able to, I would've. All the times he ignored me…all the times he didn't even seem to know I existed…Mom stopped me, though. Guess that wasn't really a bad thing, but I thought it was at the time.

My family had never seen me lose control. Not where I'm from, and not in the Past. Not until that night.

It was strange, losing control. It was like a part of me – a very small part – was remaining calm and objective, while the other part – most of me – just railed against everything in my screwed up life and boiled over. I don't really remember much of it…I just remember him taunting me, then Mom pulling me off him. I'd split his lip, and he was going to have some pretty nasty bruises for a few days, but I hadn't been able to make a dent in him.

I was disappointed in myself for that. But I was also disappointed in him. A father wouldn't have let his son get away with that.

At least, not a father who cared.

I found out later that it was just the opposite.

After everyone found out – Phoebe, then Paige, then Mom, Grandpa and finally Dad – they treated me differently. Like I was actually a part of the family. Dad was going out of his way to try and charm his way into my life…but I didn't want to go there. It was too painful. I couldn't let him get close. What if I screwed up, like I usually did, and he hated me for it?

And I did. Royally.

I thought we'd finally done it. We'd finally gotten rid of the demons after Wyatt. I was going to go home, to a world where Bianca might be alive, and my brother wouldn't be evil, and I could have a life. I'd let myself get close to my father, and it was a good thing.

But I was wrong. We were wrong.

Gideon. Who woulda thunk it? The paragon of virtue, the pillar of goodness…was actually the threat to Wyatt we were looking for all along.

I never saw it coming, you know. The athame. I mean, I knew he was going to kill Wyatt, and I'd seen how he was going to do it, in the para-world, but I never really thought he'd use it on me. I guess I still thought there was some good in him, or something.

Actually, I'm not that high-minded.

I knew my Dad would kill him if he hurt me or Wyatt.

Guess that wasn't enough.

I'd never seen my father cry. Or show concern. At least, not for me. But in those last few hours of my life, I saw plenty, of both concern and tears.

Dying wasn't that bad, really. No, seriously, it wasn't. I mean, apart from the pain, of course. The pain was annoying. But the dying part…not too bad. I mean, I'd had a practice, when Mom and Dad nearly didn't…y'know, have me. I just kinda faded away. It didn't hurt. I wasn't cold. On the contrary, it was nice. Maybe death is different for other people, I don't know. But it was okay for me.

Like I said, I never wanted to be a hero. I didn't want anyone to mourn my passing, or to say that I had fought the good fight, or whatever. I definitely didn't want to be remembered as anyone special.

But in the end, I guess I was. On all counts.

People mourned my passing. People said I fought the good fight. I was remembered as the person who had helped save the world as everyone knew it.

And I was a Hero.