A/N: This chapter isn't the most interesting, since it just sets the scene. The adventure hots up at chapter 2 (especially for Chris, who gets himself in a bit of trouble straight away, of course!). I hope Charmed fans will enjoy this fic, written by a keen Charmed (and Chris!) fan.
The story is set just after Chris' motives for coming to the past are revealed as not to protect Wyatt from danger, but to protect from his being turned. No-one knows Chris' true identity. Yet.
Please review if you like (or even if you don't!)
:-)
Not Quite Chris
Prologue
...Falling. Then, all of a sudden, Chris felt pain like lightning through his side and felt mud on his cheek, cold and reassuring. With painstaking effort, he dared to open his eyes a crack to see the Beast, thrashing and convulsing violently, it's entire body in a grotesque state of spasm. It's neck was streaming with a frightening purple liquid as poisoned water spits from a fountain, and was bent at a horridly acute angle. Eyes diluted in agony, the beast collapsed into a mutilated heap on the ground, and was instantly engulfed by the sea of silver flames which was streaming from the Charmed Ones bloody hands; the ones that weren't intertwined with each others.
As Chris finally gave into the agonizing mixture of pain and relief and began to close his aching eyes, his final glimpse of the scene was the ground, soaked purple with the super-natural blood, and lit up like a jewel in the light of the emerging sun.
Chapter One
Chris glared determinedly at the Book whilst easily flicking his finger, each subtle movement sending a page fluttering lightly over to the next tedious page, and the next, and the next...
This method of searching had become very tiresome to him very fast, but he was reassured by the knowledge that this had to be done in order to ever accomplish what he'd set out to do; save Wyatt, the little baby turn evil dictator who's innocent little cries Chris was listening to at that very moment from down-stairs. Save Wyatt from who? Chris irritably asked himself for the umpteenth time. Who the hell knew? That was why Chris was stood here, once again, in the Halliwell attic, probably gathering as much dust as the antique furniture scattered about the deceptively ordinary room.
Chris was just about to call it a day, and had already resolved in his mind that he would have a quick break- maybe in his isolated room in P3 away from all the annoying baby screaming- when the door clicked open and Piper strode in, her wide eyes searching, then settling on Chris.
"Oh," she stated, without eye contact, in a tone which made it evident that her mind was preoccupied.
Chris arched an eyebrow in reply, that being the only possible reply to that greeting anyway, and continued his monotonous activity. Piper proceeded to shuffling about the room, lifting ornaments and bending to peek behind boxes. The frown that disrupted her sculpted face with it's crease told Chris that she wasn't getting anywhere.
"Looking for something?" He inquired softly.
"Oh, just Wyatts teddy bear. Y'know, the one with the blue bow-tie on it" Her voice came out muffled from where she was crouched behind the couch, from behind which hasty clattering could be heard. "He's never shown any interest in that bear until now. Phoebe says he wants it, and, of course, Phoebe now knows everything about everyone with her new empath powers, but I just can't..." When Piper's head popped up from behind the couch, rather flushed-looking, she paused her rambling. Chris' arm was stuck out, the battered old teddy in his hand.
Piper sighed heavily and dragged herself to Chris, who offered her the teddy. She took it from him and just stared at it, her gaze as glassy as the beaded one gazing back.
"I suppose this is just one of the many ways you will be saving Wyatt from now on, then." Piper stated bitterly.
That hurt. Chris had been aware that his revelation of the fact that he'd come back from the future to prevent Wyatt from becoming the master of all evil had had an effect on Piper- that was understandable- but the effect had been worse than Chris had expected. Not mere hate and frustration, but complete and utter deflation. Piper had been zombie-like these past few days, detaching herself from the rest of the family and submerging herself in motherhood. She'd especially been venomous towards Chris.
"From now on? This has been my aim since I came here. Protect Wyatt. You just didn't know about it." Chris brushed off softly.
"You mean you just didn't tell us." She countered.
Pipers intense eyes bore into his equally intense sea-green ones for a few seconds, until, at the same time, Chris nervously shifted his gaze and Piper dejectedly dropped hers.
At that moment, Paige burst in, followed keenly by Phoebe, and Chris thanked God that with their enthusiastic presence, the awkward atmosphere seemed to drift away.
"Howdy-do you two. Sorry to intrude on this love-fest, but we have some daemon-bashing to do." Paige announced, taking Chris' place before the Book and beginning to flick through it's browning pages, "Y'know, I think I'll give up on 'Howdy-do'. It just does not work for me."
"Deamon? What daemon?" Chris instantly asked, urgency and volume having been added to his voice.
"Tut tut Chris, you're neurotic's showing." Paige smirked.
"Ha. Funny. Phoebe?" Chris turned helplessly to the middle sister, aware that he was in fact being neurotic again, but shoving it aside as an annoying habit acquired from the unstable life that he'd lead and the urgency of his situation.
"Well, we just found out that this prolonged period of daemon silence isn't just random good luck like we'd put it down to." Chris cringed in apprehension as Phoebe spoke, "It's apparently got something to do with a demonic plot."
"What do you mean?" Piper pursued.
"Well, the deamon that's on-to us must be pretty well known, well feard and well trusted to get the job done, because, apparently, all the other deamons are waiting for him to... well... make his move on us." Phoebe finished.
"Who told you this? Oh, yeah, of course." Piper sighed, still sensitive on the whole Leo/Elder subject which had ended in her husband being stolen from her.
"Yeah. The Elders heard about it so Leo let us know. Just now actually. He's down there with Wyatt, cheering him up."
"Guess I won't be needing this then." Piper flung the little blue-bowed teddy bear onto the couch. It's loose, plastic eyes almost looked sad about the rejection. Chris knew the feeling.
"Any leads?" Chris asked, looking over Paige's shoulder at the Book.
"Nooope...Well, we know, or can assume anyway, that it's and upper level daemon with a reputation around the Underworld. Makes sense, right?"
"Chris, would you happen to know any deamon who'd fit the bill?" Piper asked. Chris had to give her her due; she had at least tried to hide the accusation in her voice. That, at least, softened the blow. Yes, Chris had demonic connections and yes, this was yet another reason not to trust him.
"Know of, maybe. But c'mon, that description is kinda loose." He paused. "I guess I can think of a few in particular, though."
"Well, go have a nose around the Underworld first, to be sure. See what you can hear. Meanwhile..." Pheobe span on her heel to leave, "I will go see if Leo can enlighten us some more."
"Oh, that's right. Leave us with all the heavy lifting," Paige joked wryly as Phoebe fluttered out. Fluttered. That was the only word Chris could think of to perfectly describe all of Phoebes actions. She seemed to have a purposeful, yet delicate way of doing things. Much like her daughter had.
"Chris," Pipers voice roused him from his thoughts "You'd better get going."
"Oh. Yeah." Chris sheepishly stepped back and was instantly awash in bouncing blue lights, that fell like glowing dust partials away from his body until he was no longer present.
Piper gazed at him as he orbed away, his head bowed, and she continued to gaze at the place he had stood, absorbed in thoughts of her own. To pick a prominent few: how can it be true that my precious baby boy will turn out to be evil? and, why does Chris care about saving him when he could just as easily kill him? Assuming he's telling the truth anyway! These thoughts had been plaguing her mind for the past few days, taunting her, telling her that she was a failure as a person, a witch, a sister, a mother...
"Piper? Piper... You alright?" Paige spoke slowly, concern evident on her face, "Is it Chris? I mean, what he said? Because, I mean, I'm no Phoebe, but I guess you're blaming yourself. And you shouldn't be."
"No. No, of course not," Piper evaded, wishing she could orb away as easily as Chris just had.
"Geez. Why is everyone so serious lately?" Paige complained playfully.
"Everyone except you, right?" Piper grinned at the youngest sister, knowing how serious she could be, but how she was intelligent with her timing.
"Of course. This house needs some cheerfulness. And I am the pure personification of that" Paige said, raising her arms in a dramatic gesture.
Piper smiled. She had to get out of this mood she was in. It just wasn't like her. Renewed with fresh resolution, Piper joined Paige at the Book of Shadows and set her steely determination on the task at hand, as she always did.
Xx
Somewhere in the Underworld, the scene unfolding in the attic of the Halliwell Manor played- the image disorientated, but correct to what was happening- in a pool of unnatural water which, unhindered by gravity, shuddered vertically on one wall of the dank cavern. It's grand scale, which held ample room for the greatest majesty, was spoilt by the air of desolation and festering evil. The only things illuminated by the modest light were the jagged rocks that made up the walls and ceiling, the dusty floor and the pale face of the figure who stood, rooted to the spot, watching.
Slight scuffling could be heard from behind the figure. A much smaller, curled creature, a sad excuse for a man (or man shaped deamon) pathetically dragged his small body, grasping the ground with his stubby fingers, to the ground space near the much mightier daemon.
"S-sir..." The pitiful deamon whined, "will 'e do? The lad? I mean... I- I fink..."
"I do not care what you think, Harekat." The tall deamon snapped. His voice was strained, and although he was obviously confident with what he said, every word sounded painful. Even his face contorted agonisingly with the strain each syllable seemed to take, and contort again when his echo's were spoken back to him.
"Y-yes Sir, 'course,' course, 'course... of course..." his companion stuttered. He didn't dare utter another word. So there was silence.
"However..." The deamon intoned.
More silence. It was that torturous kind of silence that ate up a lesser man's nerves. Harekats, for example.
"However," He finally continued, "you may be correct. In fact, I'd already organised it."
"Oh, oh, oh... Oh yeh Sir. I- I mean, you... yooou Sir, are..."
"Oh do shut up."
A whimper. Then, more silence.
"Although, bear in mind that I will still perceive this as being you're idea. Which, in turn, makes the consequences that may come out of this, automatically, on you're head. Which would be most regrettable. Do you recall what you're last slip up entailed? What I was forced to do?"
Harekat moaned as he rubbed the swollen stumps where his short, stubby but capable legs used to be.
"Yes." The deamon hissed, eyeing the White-lighter who'd just orbed away from the scene. "Him"