A/N: This is a five-part story to show the relationship between Lena, Chris, and Wyatt from my Repercussions storyline. A lot of people write about Chris and Wyatt's generation as basically normal kids having a good time and demon hunting on the weekends, but considering how much just plain bad stuff went on in the Charmed TV show in 8 years, I can't imagine their lives would be anywhere near normal. This of course takes place before Repercussions, and deletes Charmed history after season 6.
Please read and review.
Disclaimer: I do not own Charmed, just everything here that you do not recognize.
Summary: Because sometimes it takes a ghost, a traumatized youth, and two well-meaning cousins to remind you of what you knew all along. Chris, Wyatt, Lena
What Family's For
By: Ada C. Eliana
Chapter One
There are times when I'm just a shell
When I do not feel anything for anyone
All I feel is hollow and bruised
Used up and misused
- "Darkest Days" Stabbing Westward
"Lena! Don't you walk away from me!" Wyatt shouted, chasing his fourteen-year-old cousin down the stairs of the Halliwell Manor. She was whipping down them as fast as she could, and Wyatt would've orbed but he was too steamed to use magic right now. Instead he jumped down a few steps and grabbed her arm hard, spinning her around to face him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" he demanded. She pulled, trying to break his grip on her right arm but he held tighter, ignoring the soft gasp of pain that the gesture inflicted.
"It's none of your business, Wy!" she shouted back, sinking her fingernails into his forearm. It did little; Lena kept her nails short because of training and so was not able to hurt him.
He grabbed onto her left arm as well, shaking her slightly as he spoke. "You getting yourself killed is my business!"
"Oh get the fuck over yourself," she shouted, breaking the family edict on not using magic on each other when she applied fire to his hands. He winced and relaxed his hold, all he needed to do to give her an opening. She wrenched her arms free and flipped him onto the floor. Then proceeded to storm out in a huff. "And stay away from me!" she shouted as she left.
"Trouble with your golden boy cousin again?" Tiffany asked, puffing on a cigarette. The end charred and she released the smoke slowly.
"Yeah, he's such a prick sometimes," Lena sighed. Tiffany jammed the cigarette against the block wall they were sitting on and then put another in her mouth.
"You mind?" she asked, turning to Lena. Lena shrugged and held a finger out, lighting the white stick for her. "Thanks." Tiffany had bleach blonde hair that was continually in her face. It was cut in jagged lines and hung over her bright green eyes. She pulled at the hoodie she was wearing, all black with derogatory patches on it and then turned to look at the bright red hand-marks on Lena's arms again. "You should tell your mom about that, she'd go ballistic on his ass."
"But then he'd tell her what I've been up to, and I don't want that either," Lena answered. She rubbed at the marks angrily. "No way I can go around with these though. Tyler!" she called. The orbs coalesced into her young-looking whitelighter almost immediately. "Hey, can you heal my arms, please?" she asked.
Tyler grimaced as he looked at the bruises. "What happened here?"
"Family rivalry, you know how it goes," Lena sighed. He healed it and she sighed in relief as the warmth flooded through her.
"What are you two up to?" Tyler asked suspiciously, surveying Tiffany who was sitting cross-legged on the garden wall.
"Reading girly magazines and doing each other's nails, Ty, whaddya think?" Tiffany smiled deviously. "Leave us alone."
"Lena, I really don't—"
"Ty, please, I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" Lena said gently. Tyler stared at them. The two girls were like night and day, and not just because of the differences in their hair and complexion. Tiffany always had an attitude, was always barking orders and telling people off for no reason. She also wore all kinds of black clothes with chains and spikes. Lena was really a sweet girl, a little too caring and sympathetic for her own good, but always ready to help others. But the more she hung out with Tiffany the more she'd changed. He'd noticed her wearing darker clothes and her hair was always in disarray. From what he'd heard from Chris and Wyatt she had taken to mouthing off and rebelling against her parents. It just didn't make sense. She was raised in a relatively stable family that loved her and had been flourishing well until about two or three months ago.
"Don't do anything stupid, Kalos," Tyler ordered before orbing away.
"Ugh, what a sanctimonious pain-in-the-ass," Tiffany complained.
"He's a whitelighter, that's what they're supposed to be like," Lena pointed out, climbing up on the wall and sitting beside Tiffany.
"Whatever. My whitelighter only comes when called and leaves when I tell him to, you should get him assigned to you too," Tiffany suggested.
"I don't know, I like Tyler," Lena responded.
"Goody-goody," Tiffany sniped. "Come on, it's already two and we haven't even been down to the Underworld yet,"
Chris stood outside of Lena's door at the vineyard, ear pressed against the wood, listening for sounds from inside. Hearing nothing but muffled curses, Chris decided it was time to enter. He knocked twice just in case she wasn't decent, and then tossed the door open. Lena was sitting on the floor by her bed, a towel pressed against her right arm. The towel was slowly turning red and that alone had Chris stumbling to sit beside her. "Hey, what'd you do to your arm?" he asked, taking the towel from her to examine the injury. It was a deep stab wound and was bleeding profusely.
"It won't stop," she said, her eyes bright with tears and pain.
"Hey it's alright, let me call Wyatt and he'll—"
"No!" she cried out. "No… Tyler's on his way, he's just busy," she added.
"Lena sweetie what's going on with you?" Chris asked. And maybe questioning his cousin while she was bleeding out on the floor wasn't the smoothest tactic, but he had to know.
"I don't know," she said. "I just… I don't know," she reiterated, pressing harder on the wound and biting her lip to keep from crying out.
"You can tell me anything," Chris said firmly. "And no one will have to know besides me."
"I know, Chris," Lena said, tears trickling down her cheeks. She and Chris had always been each other's confidants. "I just can't share this with anybody."
"You can share it with Tiffany though?"
"No," Lena said with a laugh. "She's just a friend, you know, just someone to hang out with."
"She's trouble, Len," he pointed out.
"She gets me," Lena shot back. "She gets me like you and Wyatt and mom and dad and the aunts never have. And right now…. I need her, okay?"
"Lena whatever happened… why can't you just talk to somebody about it?"
"Cause it happened to me, okay? To me! And Tracey's dead, and Tiffany's the only friend I have anymore. 'Course that means she'll die soon, I don't have the best track record after all."
"That's not true," Chris said softly.
"You know it is. All of my friends die. And it's usually because of me too, isn't that the kicker? Why do I even bother, Chris?"
"With what, magic?"
"No magic is me, I need magic. I mean with people. If Tracey and I hadn't—then she would've never – and I just – I don't know what to do," she confessed.
"For starters you could stop being so damn stubborn and let Wyatt heal you," Chris suggested. At fourteen Lena was well on her way to becoming a woman – whatever that meant. And the older she became, the more difficult it was to figure out what to say to her. And damn if the girl didn't know exactly how to help everyone except herself. Her hair was straight today, and Chris felt sad to see it look like that. He liked Lena's hair fluffy and curly, bouncing when she walked and falling in her face. The straight hair just looked strange and flat, he figured it might just mirror how she felt at the moment.
She had disappeared three months ago, and for one terrifying week no one knew where she had been or what happened to her. Then Alec had returned with her safely ensconced in his arms. He said something about finding her in the clutches of a demon whose life goal was to destroy the Kalos family. The demon got away and Lena refused to speak about what had happened. She slept off the fatigue, but Chris could see that she never got rid of the fear. She was still jumpy and something had happened to make her feel weak and at risk. So, in true Lena-fashion she refused to let anyone help her, preferring instead to let it eat her from the inside out. She started hanging out with Tiffany and acted angry and rebellious all of the time. Wyatt was at his wit's end, completely fed up with Lena's behavior and had been unintentionally driving her farther away from them. Chris felt awkward to be in the middle between Wyatt and Lena, a spot she usually kept for herself. She had already successfully settled so many disputes between the two of them, and now it was up to Chris to take on her role.
"Fine, call him," Lena whispered; a small concession on her part. Maybe she was just too much in pain to care about who did the healing, or maybe she really wanted to fix things.
"Wyatt!" Chris called out, and immediately his brother appeared beside him. "Here, Lena hurt her arm."
Wyatt nodded, silently putting his hands over it and healing the wound. As he did it Wyatt kept his eyes averted from Lena's and wished that all wounds could be so easy to heal. "How'd this happen?" Wyatt asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
"A couple demons, they're dead now though," Lena said with a touch of arrogance, but Chris could see that her jaw was still trembling.
"You were out demon hunting again? Haven't we told you how dangerous that is?!" Wyatt demanded.
"You hypocrite! You go all the time! You and Chris are always sneaking off, and now you're trying to lecture me about it?!" Lena shouted, pushing him away from her and standing. Her black slacks were trailing on the floor and the bottoms of them had that chewed look from being stepped on.
"Yeah well you're too young! You need people around to protect you! Didn't you learn anything from what happened in December?!" Wyatt shouted. Chris winced and Lena looked like she had been slapped. Her eyes seemed hollow and she glared at Wyatt with unrestrained malice. She didn't say anything, just went to her neck and unhooked the silver chain and locket that hung from it. The locket had been a gift from Wyatt for her fourteenth birthday and Lena loved it; she never took it off. Now she coldly removed it and threw the necklace at her cousin.
"Get out of my house," she ordered. Wyatt stood immobile until the necklace suddenly soared into his hand. Chris was just impressed that she could control her channeling when her emotions were so erratic. "Go!" she shouted. Wyatt stared at her as if he had never seen her before and then disappeared.
"Lena…" Chris began, walking towards her.
"Chris, don't," Lena said, turning away from him. He could see her shoulders shaking and knew she was seconds away from crying. There was no way he would leave her now. Carefully he placed his hands on her shoulders, and she stiffened against the touch. "Please don't touch me," she whispered, pushing his hands away. "Please just go." Not knowing what else to do, Chris could only obey her wishes.
"What are we going to do about Lena?" Wyatt asked of his younger brother. They were in the conservatory in the Manor, and Wyatt was slumped in a wicker chair, running his hands through his curly blonde hair.
"How about not yell at her?" Chris suggested, pacing in front of the stain-glassed window.
"Look – I didn't mean to, it just happened…" Wyatt responded apologetically.
"Well I doubt she sees it like that," he said with accusation.
Wyatt stared up at his younger brother. "Chris – I didn't mean it," he said, surprised that Chris seemed to be taking Lena's side on this. "But we can't just leave things as they are."
"I just don't know what's going on in her head," Chris said, sitting down on a chair across from Wyatt but not looking at his brother. "Something's driving her, but I just can't see what it is." Ever since Alec had brought her back three months ago she had been different – closed off and morose. Chris could see her pulling away from them, and it terrified him to think of losing her like that; losing her to her own depression and dark thoughts.
"If only one of us were the telepaths. Why hasn't Aunt Phoebe been able to figure this out?"
"You really think Lena would let her get a read on her?" Chris snorted. "She's a stronger telepath than her mother, there's no way Aunt Pheebs could get into her head unless she lets her."
"Well there's got to be something we can do," Wyatt exclaimed. Turning nineteen had not gifted Wyatt with any extra patience; he was still as rash as he had ever been, especially when it came to 'fixing' something that was hurting someone he loved. Lena always said it was because Wyatt was more sensitive than Chris. At which Chris would always respond that what she really meant was that Wyatt was a girl and was too nice to say it outright.
"We could try giving her some space, give her some time to realize she needs help. Something tells me this is all going to come to a head soon anyway."
"What, you're psychic now?" Wyatt asked with annoyance.
"No. But isn't that always how things work for her? Something's going to happen soon, and none of us are going to like it."
"Damn Lena, you really do have anger issues!" Tiffany laughed, slapping her on the back and smiling. "You toasted those demons like they were nothing!"
"Yeah well being a Halliwell-Kalos has it's privileges," Lena responded. But she didn't look happy.
"Lena girl, what's your story? You do such awesome stuff, and yet you never seem happy about it. You said you wanted to fight demons, but you don't look too excited."
"Sorry it's just… it's been a rough couple of months," Lena responded, looking away from Tiffany's intense gaze.
"What happened to you? Something bad, right? You can talk to me, you know," Tiffany said. Lena just stared at this usually brusque girl suddenly being gentle with her. "You're not like anyone I've ever known before. No one's ever offered to help me find them, everyone just blew me off and told me I was crazy, but you, you're different. So if you won't tell me what happened, then at least tell me why you're here," she said.
Lena's ears were rushing and she shut her eyes against the memory that seemed intent on replaying itself. But she shrugged it off, tried to appear nonplussed, when all she wanted to do was hide. "I'm here because I want to help people," she said, ignoring the first part of Tiffany's speech. "But I – I'm afraid I might make all this worse. My friends don't usually have a long life span."
"You might be the best friend I've ever had if you send me to them," Tiffany said roughly. They were out in the grape fields again, hanging out at the garden wall where no one in the manor house could see them; where they could feel completely alone and safe.
"What's the point anyway, Lena? What's the point of all the fighting? Nothing ever changes."
"It will someday. There are people out there right now getting ready for the end of the world, getting ready for the final showdown. Maybe after that everything will be better."
"No, it'll be just a different version of bad. There is no pretty, happy, good life, Lena. It doesn't exist. The war's never going to end. And people like my family, like me, like you, they'll just keep getting dragged down by it until they're gone, until they're dead.
"So maybe I should give up on this quest after all. I mean it's not going to change anything is it?"
"Maybe, maybe not. But maybe if you do finish it you'll finally be able to forget about everything that's happened," Lena whispered. "Maybe you can move on."
"Maybe," Tiffany shrugged. She lit up a cigarette and took a long drag, exhaling the smoke away from her friend. "Do you want to find the demon that hurt you, Lena?"
"No, no I don't," Lena immediately responded.
"Why?"
"I'm just… I'm not ready to face him. I'd lose, and I can't lose," she added. Her eyes were far away again, and Tiffany sort of inched closer to her, trying to provide comfort but knowing she was ill suited for it. She had always known who Lena Halliwell-Kalos was, had seen her in Magic School plenty of times. But when she found her sitting by herself in the corner of the classroom well after class had ended, just staring into space, Tiffany recognized some of herself in Lena. The girl had never looked so vulnerable before, so uncomfortable and scared, and Tiffany saw the girl she was before she built tough walls up around herself.
"If you wanted to fight him; I'd go with you," she promised. "I'd die right beside you if it came down to it. I don't have anything left to live for anyway."
She extinguished the cigarette and then turned to face the dark-haired witch. "Being a witch is weird, isn't it? You live life knowing that at any minute you could die, and yet you still don't live like you're going to die. We waste time, Lena. Witches are always trying to get what they can't ever have and ignoring the fact that their life is passing them by. I think witches have more regrets than anyone when it comes right down to it. We spend our whole lives pretending to be mortals, searching for normal and then we die who we really are, witches. If your aunt, the one who died three years in to her destiny; if she knew she was going to die, I bet she would've tried to change things; would've gone on that vacation, had sex with that guy, been impulsive and reckless. But the truth is, just by being witches we have a death sentence hanging over us. It's like the story about the guy with the sword above his head, ready to fall at any moment, he's too nervous to do anything at all because he can't stop thinking about it. Fuck the sword Lena, it's going to fall someday, so stop thinking about it and start living like you don't care that it's there. Let's do something crazy for once, let's go steal something, do drugs, run screaming down the road, something, anything."
"Yeah let's go," Lena agreed.
Lena had never experienced a hangover before, but now she definitely understood why her parents were so cranky the day after banquets and weddings. She would call Tyler, he was bound to secrecy after all, but she knew whitelighters couldn't heal anything self-inflicted, and that included hangovers.
She was lying on the floor in Tiffany's bedroom, completely blank on how she had gotten there. A few feet away from her Tiffany was lying on her side, her mini skirt hiked up and rips in the striped tights she was wearing.
Tiffany's whitelighter was a no-questions asked sort of guy, he had orbed them to Ireland when she asked, and must've been responsible for orbing the drunken pair back. That was the only explanation for how they'd gotten there. They spent the whole night pub-hopping, getting drunk, and singing in the streets. It was bizarre, and the parts Lena could remember were fun, but there were blank spots in her memory, and that terrified her. They were so stupid, anything could've happened to them when they were trolling the streets, high as kites and out of control.
Lena put a hand to her pounding head, sitting up uncomfortably. Her own mini-skirt was dirty, looked like she had spilled some liquor on it the night before. She sighed when she saw that. It was her favorite skirt, red, black, and white plaid with pleats and rhinestones on it. She stumbled to her feet and walked towards the bathroom, trying not to trip over Tiffany or her blue rug. She reached the hall and used her hands to guide her down to the bathroom.
She was splashing cold water on her face and staring at the fading mascara marks on her cheeks when she heard someone moving around in the kitchen. Curious, she headed that way. Tiffany lived with her aunt, a woman who was almost always drunk or high, and really didn't care about what Tiffany did or where she was. She was hardly ever home, more likely than not hanging out with a new boyfriend, so the sound of sizzling eggs coming from the kitchen was hardly what Lena would expect to hear.
She reached the doorway and stopped short. Chris was standing at the stove, a frying pan on the burner and a spatula in his hand. "Hey Lena," he said, not even looking up. "I sure hope you had fun last night, because you could be paying for it all day kiddo," he added with a smirk.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"Well how do you think you got here last night – or was it this morning? I don't know, the time difference is screwing me up," he said.
"I thought Dave—"
"Tiffany's whitelighter? Hah, he was probably glad to be rid of her. Aunt Phoebe called me, asking if I knew where you were. Finding you really wasn't that difficult. Apparently you strengthen telepathic ties when you're drunk. I could hear you projecting from across the ocean."
"Then why'd you bring me here?"
"Oh come on, your mom would go ballistic if she knew what you and rockstar-wannabe were up to last night. I told her that you were at a friend's house and would call her in the afternoon," he responded.
"Why would you do that?" she asked, completely at a loss as to why she hadn't been ratted out.
"Lena come on, we're cousins remember? Thick as thieves and whatnot. So you did something incredibly stupid and immature last night; it's not like I've never done anything like that before. Go wake up your friend, breakfast is almost ready."
"Chris I really don't think I can eat anything right now," she said, feeling sick to her stomach.
"That's why you're going to drink this first," he said, holding up a glass of bright green liquid. "It's my very own hangover cure potion. Works every time."
Inexplicably, Lena's eyes began to tear up. "Chris I…" she began, but cut off, overtaken by an urge to cry.
"Hey Lena, I'm always going to be there for you, okay?" he said, crossing the room and standing in front of her, holding her by the arms.
"Thank you, Chris," she said, some tears slipping down her cheeks. He put his arms around her, pulling her into a hug as she forced her tears to stop and choked down the lump in her throat.
A/N: Please let me know what you thought.
-A.C.E.