Disclaimer: I don't own this, I make no money from it, I own neither characters nor setting, nor premise, and I intend no infringement or copyright. I make this to pay homage to the original creators and not intend in anyway to misrepresent that.
Hey, it's me you guys, and here's the next chapter. Excessively short, I know, but this couldn't go on the end of the last one, for reasons only known to my muse and it can't go on the next chapter because of the extreme time shift, so here it had to go. So bite me.
More comments at the bottom, and thanks to all who reviewed on AFF(.)net and made my day, several times.
When a Child is Born
-Chapter Two-
When my fifth birthday came around, I made sure I was extra extra good. I was even better behaved than I was last year. I knew I'd been good, even though no-one had told me. I just thought they didn't want me to know that they knew I was being good, in case it gave me ideas about my birthday.
It went the exact same way. Nobody acknowledged it. No-one gave me a Happy Birthday or even a hug. They went demon hunting again, left me alone with my father and my brother. I thought, even hoped that it was all a lie. It wasn't. I realised that when it came to midnight and no-one had wished me a happy birthday. It's a simple saying but it makes such a difference.
I went to my special corner again, hoping that the day would just turn into a dream – that life would begin again, and I'd have my birthday. I didn't. Wyatt found me again.
"Mummy and Daddy still don't love you?" I was five now, and old enough to know that sometimes some people's mummies and daddies don't love their children like they should. I knew that sometimes Mummies and Daddies love one child more than another, and don't like some of their own children. I just never expected it to be my family. But then again, you never do, do you? But Wyatt was still talking. "Mummy and Daddy don't love you, do they Chris?"
I was five. Old enough to have fight in me, and old enough to believe in something with a loyalty and dedication that would put the Marines to shame. Semper Fi. I knew in my five year old heart that something was wrong with my relationship with my parents and my brother but like any male of species, I push it aside. I know that it's wrong, but it's instinctive. I do it anyway. "Mummy and Daddy love me. They just..."
"Forgot?" Wyatt laughed and that laugh was evil. No eight year old should be able to produce that sound. I think then was my first indication that I was sitting before my brother, who would become the source of all Evil. He was still walking the line then I think though. I hope so anyway. "They didn't forget my birthday. They didn't forget Aunt Phoebe's or Aunt Paige's. Just yours."
"I..." Just as the year before I was struck dumb in the overwhelming truth. They hadn't. Other people's birthdays had been celebrated. Just not mine.
"It's alright Chris." Wyatt leaned down and touched my shoulder. "I didn't forget." He placed a wrapped parcel in my hands and left. His laughter followed him, in the closing of the door.
I stared at the parcel in my hands. It was box shaped, perhaps a foot long. It was thin, and quite heavy. I pulled off the brown paper wrapping and found a ebony box. Opening it, I found an object wrapped in a black cloth. I unwrapped it, and stared at what it revealed. An athame, with a handle of dark wood and inlaid with wire. It's beautiful in a sort of dark-ish way. But the blade, though in some places bright and shining silver, was covered with some kind of dried dark power. I ran a finger over it. It doesn't come off. I shrugged it off. It's a present. The first in two years and Wyatt was the only one to remember my birthday.
I didn't know it at the time, but it was the blade that killed my future/alternate future self. It was my blood on the blade. Wyatt had given me my death back again, and I was only five years old.
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