Author's Note: Big sorry to all of you guys waiting for the next chapter of my Star Wars fic... it's coming! Honestly! It's just there's a mile high road block in the way and no amount of chiselling will get it down. On the upside, during said chiselling, this came out!
Spoilers: Hard to say, since I have only seen 2 episodes of season 6: the second one and the third one, i've seen bits of five and bits of four and pretty much all of 1-3 (LivingTV is my hero)... I'm going by fanfic and what seems to be the common denominators in most as well as what i could glean from episode summaries
Disclaimer: I own nothing, save for my clothes, my books and my CD collection :D
Chapter One
Wyatt Halliwell was not pleased. And when Wyatt Halliwell felt like that things tended to die. Unfortunately for the demon next to him, the source of his displeasure wasn't there at the moment.
The demon disintegrated into flames as soon as his energy ball connected with it.
"You are trying my patience, Christopher."
It was pointless, of course, to berate his younger brother now since Chris was not in the Now, he was still in the Then, pathetically trying to prevent the Now, clinging to archaic and useless ideas of good and evil.
It was the last of the reconnaissance reports from the past that angered him: Chris was actually single-handedly eliminating every demon that might have the slightest connection to his apparent 'turning'. No wonder a number of them had just disappeared of late.
There was only one way to stop errant Christopher, only one; and, as the old saying went, if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. He never wanted it to come to this -Chris had always been his favourite brother, his closest sibling in more than age, the one he would share his powers with, but there was only so much he could overlook.
"Rovinas!" One of his closer advisors, Wyatt could rely on Rovinas as long as any plans disclosed to him were in the demon's best interest. "Cancel my meeting with the troll ambassadors tomorrow. I'm busy."
Rovinas nodded his horned grey head and left. Wyatt wasted no time in getting to work writing a new spell and devising a potion to compliment it. Spells were his forte, ever since they were children out of the two of them he was always the spell-writer and Chris the potions-maker, the perfect team.
His cauldron smoked and bubbled, scorch marks covered the large oak table and scattered pieces of paper lay about the surrounding area. Outside, the sky turned a rosy pink above the desolate ruins of San Fransisco as morning first broke across the land.
"You should have listened, little brother."
Pocketing a few extra vials (just in case, he told himself), Wyatt took his newest spell and orbed to the Manor Museum, previously the Halliwell's ancestral home before he realised the need to preserve it, as a reminder to mortals of the power born unto witches.
Wyatt drew over the faded chalk lines of multiple past Triquetra's on the well-kept attic wall, threw one vial of the royal blue potion at it's centre and began to chant:
"On this day and in this time,
Magic words in this rhyme,
Send me back through planes and space,
Where Christopher lives to change lives evil faced."
A portal swirled into existence; a mixture of blues and gold's replacing a portion of the wall. Stepping through it without hesitation he felt his body and consciousness filter and float, expand, surge and a hundred other sensations, until there was a tug, a pull and finally an overwhelming push that coalesced him and forced him out the portal exactly where he said the spell.
But not exactly when.
"Wyatt!"
He smirked at his brother's surprise, rounded on the figure that stood so astounded by the Book of Shadows.
"Hello Christopher, miss me?"
-
"What was that?"
Piper looked at Phoebe shaking her head, She'd been busy trying to get Wyatt to eat his breakfast as opposed to flinging it everywhere.
The middle sister explained, "I thought I heard a shout from the attic."
"Maybe Chris found s-s-something?" Paige suggested, yawning mid-sentence.
A loud crash echoed from upstairs.
Piper grabbed Wyatt from his high chair, "Or maybe not!"
"Chris?" Phoebe called as they ran through the house, leaving Paige by the island halfway through pouring herself a large cup of coffee.
"It'd be much quicker to orb y'know." She muttered, orbing herself to the source of the shout but still managing to arrive at the same time as her sisters, since she delayed by talking to herself, again. Maybe that was a not-so-helpful habit? Paige shook her head at her own second-guessing thoughts -which most certainly were not helpful or useful -and focused on the scene that had Piper and Phoebe so shocked, and quickly found herself as shocked as they.
Their whitelighter, Piper's son from the future, was being held in the remains of what was once a lovely, rather old, glass fronted cabinet feet dangling a foot off the ground and choking by the hand of some invisible force.
"Ra- he- r-" Broken syllables struggled past a constricted throat as Paige and Phoebe tried desperately to pull him down in the hopes that it would help. "Run!" He finally managed, locking Phoebe with a pleading gaze for her to do so.
"What? Run?" Piper shifted Wyatt on her hip, frustrated, "Why?"
Chris, however, was in no position to explain further.
"Because of me." The three sisters spun around to face the voice the serious voice. Chris' fight to breathe was the only sound to fill the room; in Piper's arms Wyatt buried his face into the folds of her shirt. "He's scared of what I might do, aren't you Chris?"
A man stepped out of the shadows behind the door. Blonde hair hung long falling below his ears, hooded black eyes looked out uncaring and a smirk that held no humour lay on his lips.
"What's the matter, don't you recognise me mother?"
Piper gasped, clutching her two-year-old closer.
"Or is it that you do and you just don't like what you see?" He sighed melodramatically, "You always told me that I could be whatever I wanted to be. So this is what I am -the leader of a free world!"
The man, who, dressed in black could've easily been just another darklighter, was their evil nephew from the future Chris was trying to prevent. Above them Chris' lips were turning blue, his attempts to release himself growing proportionately weaker and his eyes beginning to glaze over as the oxygen deprivation started to kick in.
----------
Author's Note: So how was it? Should I bother to continue? It's my first ever Charmed fic... so i'm only a liiiiittle self-conscious
Oh, and I apologise for the paragraphing... it's indented on my compy but since fanfiction is being a little sob now, i had to come up with a new way and I'm slowly reformatting it :S (re-uploaded 19th Aug. to fix typos).
Spoilers: Hard to say, since I have only seen 2 episodes of season 6: the second one and the third one, i've seen bits of five and bits of four and pretty much all of 1-3 (LivingTV is my hero)... I'm going by fanfic and what seems to be the common denominators in most as well as what i could glean from episode summaries
Disclaimer: I own nothing, save for my clothes, my books and my CD collection :D
Chapter One
Wyatt Halliwell was not pleased. And when Wyatt Halliwell felt like that things tended to die. Unfortunately for the demon next to him, the source of his displeasure wasn't there at the moment.
The demon disintegrated into flames as soon as his energy ball connected with it.
"You are trying my patience, Christopher."
It was pointless, of course, to berate his younger brother now since Chris was not in the Now, he was still in the Then, pathetically trying to prevent the Now, clinging to archaic and useless ideas of good and evil.
It was the last of the reconnaissance reports from the past that angered him: Chris was actually single-handedly eliminating every demon that might have the slightest connection to his apparent 'turning'. No wonder a number of them had just disappeared of late.
There was only one way to stop errant Christopher, only one; and, as the old saying went, if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. He never wanted it to come to this -Chris had always been his favourite brother, his closest sibling in more than age, the one he would share his powers with, but there was only so much he could overlook.
"Rovinas!" One of his closer advisors, Wyatt could rely on Rovinas as long as any plans disclosed to him were in the demon's best interest. "Cancel my meeting with the troll ambassadors tomorrow. I'm busy."
Rovinas nodded his horned grey head and left. Wyatt wasted no time in getting to work writing a new spell and devising a potion to compliment it. Spells were his forte, ever since they were children out of the two of them he was always the spell-writer and Chris the potions-maker, the perfect team.
His cauldron smoked and bubbled, scorch marks covered the large oak table and scattered pieces of paper lay about the surrounding area. Outside, the sky turned a rosy pink above the desolate ruins of San Fransisco as morning first broke across the land.
"You should have listened, little brother."
Pocketing a few extra vials (just in case, he told himself), Wyatt took his newest spell and orbed to the Manor Museum, previously the Halliwell's ancestral home before he realised the need to preserve it, as a reminder to mortals of the power born unto witches.
Wyatt drew over the faded chalk lines of multiple past Triquetra's on the well-kept attic wall, threw one vial of the royal blue potion at it's centre and began to chant:
"On this day and in this time,
Magic words in this rhyme,
Send me back through planes and space,
Where Christopher lives to change lives evil faced."
A portal swirled into existence; a mixture of blues and gold's replacing a portion of the wall. Stepping through it without hesitation he felt his body and consciousness filter and float, expand, surge and a hundred other sensations, until there was a tug, a pull and finally an overwhelming push that coalesced him and forced him out the portal exactly where he said the spell.
But not exactly when.
"Wyatt!"
He smirked at his brother's surprise, rounded on the figure that stood so astounded by the Book of Shadows.
"Hello Christopher, miss me?"
-
"What was that?"
Piper looked at Phoebe shaking her head, She'd been busy trying to get Wyatt to eat his breakfast as opposed to flinging it everywhere.
The middle sister explained, "I thought I heard a shout from the attic."
"Maybe Chris found s-s-something?" Paige suggested, yawning mid-sentence.
A loud crash echoed from upstairs.
Piper grabbed Wyatt from his high chair, "Or maybe not!"
"Chris?" Phoebe called as they ran through the house, leaving Paige by the island halfway through pouring herself a large cup of coffee.
"It'd be much quicker to orb y'know." She muttered, orbing herself to the source of the shout but still managing to arrive at the same time as her sisters, since she delayed by talking to herself, again. Maybe that was a not-so-helpful habit? Paige shook her head at her own second-guessing thoughts -which most certainly were not helpful or useful -and focused on the scene that had Piper and Phoebe so shocked, and quickly found herself as shocked as they.
Their whitelighter, Piper's son from the future, was being held in the remains of what was once a lovely, rather old, glass fronted cabinet feet dangling a foot off the ground and choking by the hand of some invisible force.
"Ra- he- r-" Broken syllables struggled past a constricted throat as Paige and Phoebe tried desperately to pull him down in the hopes that it would help. "Run!" He finally managed, locking Phoebe with a pleading gaze for her to do so.
"What? Run?" Piper shifted Wyatt on her hip, frustrated, "Why?"
Chris, however, was in no position to explain further.
"Because of me." The three sisters spun around to face the voice the serious voice. Chris' fight to breathe was the only sound to fill the room; in Piper's arms Wyatt buried his face into the folds of her shirt. "He's scared of what I might do, aren't you Chris?"
A man stepped out of the shadows behind the door. Blonde hair hung long falling below his ears, hooded black eyes looked out uncaring and a smirk that held no humour lay on his lips.
"What's the matter, don't you recognise me mother?"
Piper gasped, clutching her two-year-old closer.
"Or is it that you do and you just don't like what you see?" He sighed melodramatically, "You always told me that I could be whatever I wanted to be. So this is what I am -the leader of a free world!"
The man, who, dressed in black could've easily been just another darklighter, was their evil nephew from the future Chris was trying to prevent. Above them Chris' lips were turning blue, his attempts to release himself growing proportionately weaker and his eyes beginning to glaze over as the oxygen deprivation started to kick in.
----------
Author's Note: So how was it? Should I bother to continue? It's my first ever Charmed fic... so i'm only a liiiiittle self-conscious
Oh, and I apologise for the paragraphing... it's indented on my compy but since fanfiction is being a little sob now, i had to come up with a new way and I'm slowly reformatting it :S (re-uploaded 19th Aug. to fix typos).