A/N: So here we got with the next chapter of this fic. It's a lot later coming that I had originally hoped, but there's been a lot of real life stuff going on, so ... erm ... yeah ... Read and review and tell me what you think?
"So, where exactly did you get the cool and lethal looking dagger," Chris asked, walking into the room and being distracted by the glint of the dagger, "and where, pray tell, might your little brother lay his digits on one like it?" He shot what he hoped was a charming smile over at Wyatt, who rolled his eyes at his actions.
"It was a gift," Wyatt replied, sounding deeply bored with the world - never a good sign, "from the God of War." Chris frowned in concentration, which caused Wyatt to roll his eyes, yet again. It was beginning to be a bit of a habit for the teenaged Source of All Evil. "When the Titians reappeared when we were children. Remember I cast a spell and brought the Greek Gods forward to our time?"
"I remember the time yeah," Chris said, before frowning once more, trying to remember the incident a bit more clearly. He had to be missing something here. "Just don't remember Ares slapping cool weapons on us, he'd piss Mom off a lot more than he'd already did," he added as an afterthought. It was funny, the memory of seeing the God of War cower in obvious terror from an incredibly pissed off Piper Halliwell. Chris always knew his mother could get anyone doing as she told them, but it was nice to have visual proof of it once in his life. "So he got a heart and left you a present? Sweet," Chris commented, sarcasm highly evident in his tone. "Obviously he wanted to win the favour of the world's most powerful magical user." Wyatt couldn't help but smirk.
"Jealously does not become you little brother," he said, looking up from the dagger which he was twirling in his fingers, and over to Chris. "You're showing your inferiority complex yet again," he smirked, a glint in his eyes that suggested that he wanted Chris - at least, at this moment in time - to think himself inferior. Chris bit back the insults he wanted to throw at his brother. "I expect Ares sensed the power, and wanted to provide something that would be useful to me," Wyatt suggested, in a tone that gave the impression that he knew that was the reasoning behind the gift. Chris frowned, the phrase striking something in his mind, a memory that he had almost all but forgotten. "So, what did you want me for?" Wyatt asked quickly, storing the dagger away in an inside pocket of his jacket.
Chris shook himself out of his thoughts, looking up at Wyatt with confusion in his eyes, before blinking. "Oh, um, yeah, I was, I was gonna go visit Grandpa's grave. Wondered if you wanted to go with?" he asked, looking up at Wyatt with misplaced hope. Deep down, he knew that of course his brother wouldn't want to go and visit their grandfather's grave. Wyatt looked to the ground, and Chris nodded. "No, course not, stupid of me to ask really," he muttered.
"I have things to be getting on with," Wyatt said, standing and exiting from the room. "Take your Hellhound with you," he called back over his shoulder, "he seems to be bored with being cooped up all the time."
"Was plannin' on taking Dog anyway," Chris muttered, looking down at the floor with a venom that it didn't deserve in the slightest, "better company than you any day."
xXx
After visiting Victor's grave - at which he most definitely did not cry, even if his eyes were prickling madly - Chris decided to take a detour to the Manor, pick up some money he had set aside to get new sneakers, and have a look in the attic for something. The sensation of not quite remembering something, but knowing it was a true memory was still itching in his mind, and he had the strongest suspicion that he would find the answer in the attic. It was were he'd found all the answers he needed before.
"I got your message," Cole called to Chris, leaning against the front door of the Manor. Chris smirked up at him, pulling out his key and opening the door. He was always surprised at the lack of trouble with the door, he would have placed money on the hinges needing oiled or something like that. He muttered softly as he entered the Manor, causing the lights to come on as well as the heating. "Magically cheating your way out of paying the bills?" Cole sounded oddly impressed.
"It's something to do, considering I can't access the money the businesses are making," Chris said, pausing and frowning, "my businesses," he corrected himself. "That the powers that be for legal loopholes and the exploitation of them," he laughed. Cole allowed himself a soft chuckle, still keeping a wary eye on Chris. It was getting to a point where Cole was almost positive he had worked the youngest Halliwell out completely.
What he had worked out … it scared him.
"So, you said you were planning on raiding the attic?" Cole said, moving his mind quickly. "Any reason in particular, of did you just wake up with the urge to rake through old boxes?" he commented. Chris began walking up the stairs, a look of concentrated thought on his face. There was a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, a sign that he was fighting back a well worded retort. Granted, only a few people were, close wasn't the word but it fitted, enough to Chris to realise that, as he wasn't exactly in the habit of letting people work out his mannerisms. Possibly why he always seemed to be constantly changing, albeit somewhat subtly.
"There's a reason," Chris replied evenly. "You were in that void when this happened, but it was when the Titans re-attacked," he paused, wondering if that wording best put forward his meaning, but shrugging it off. "I mean, the first time just let the earth swallow them, it worked," he said, "but no one figured on them being able to cause an earthquake and free themselves."
"Inventive people," Cole noted. Chris rolled his eyes, walking along the hallway which led to the attic. Cole followed behind him, still unsure what it was Chris was actually looking for, but he knew it had something to do with the story he was recalling to him. "So, what happened? After they managed to free themselves?"
"Wyatt brought the original Greek Gods and Goddesses forward in time," Chris said, standing in front of the attic door, his hand hovering over the handle. "He was on a bit of a mythology kick at the time, so it didn't take much for him to connect the Titans Mom and our Aunts were facing with the ones in his books," he explained, still not opening the door. Cole considered him carefully, warily.
"… Want me to open it?" he asked, as kindly as he could, but managing to keep it in that safe area in which Chris wouldn't try to blow his head up.
"I can do it," Chris growled back, turning the handle and pushing the door opened. The hinges squeaked slightly, showing their age and how long it had been since they'd been oiled, or at least tended to in some way. He walked into the attic quickly, not daring the linger on the threshold. He didn't, as Cole had half expected him to, walk over to the window - where the Book of Shadows still sat, a layer of dust covering it - but instead over to a pile of boxes, kneeling in front of them and studying them carefully.
Cole wandered over to the Book, staring at it, a dull stab of pain in his lower gut. He should have expected that at least, but it was odd that it didn't hurt as much as it normally did. The Book sat on its perch, looking decidedly unmagical, as though it were nothing more than an elaborate family keepsake. Which, he supposed, was true as well. Though he doubted any of the Halliwell woman would be proud of calling their precious Book that. He listened as Chris rummaged through the boxes, noting when the noise died that he seemed to have found what he was looking for.
Chris sat, holding the wooden box in his hands. It wasn't a large box, and there were no ornate carvings on it, nothing to suggest the power he could feel from it. And he wasn't quite sure why he was able to feel power, he'd never been in possession of that particular ability before. He suspected it was an old magic, but that still didn't explain why he could feel it. Shaking the thought out of his head, he opened the box. Laying on top of a silk covering was a yellowing piece of paper. Frowning slightly, Chris moved so he was leaning against some of the larger and fuller cardboard boxes, unfolding the paper to read it.
To Chris,
As cliché as the saying may be by your time, I'm pretty sure that if you're reading this letter, well then, I'm sorry for your loss. I suspected that you'll take those words at face value, but I do mean them. Your mother was a hell of a woman, and I respected her for that in my short time knowing her. Even though I was highly embarrassed by what she made me do: Gods of War are not babysitters. But that's not the point of this letter. I'm not sure if there is actually a proper point, but I felt the need to write it, if only to explain what it is I've given to you, and exactly why it is I've gifted this to you.
By now I suspect that Wyatt would have come across the gift I left him through the means of his own impressive magic. A dagger of infamy, said to be able to slay the gods themselves. But by your time it won't really have that great an effect anymore, and I doubt Wyatt will show enough initiative to research the dagger. If he proves me wrong … oops? It still shouldn't matter much anyway, witches and angels - to simply it - aren't exactly in the same league as the original targets for the dagger. Though you and your brother do come close. Which brings me, in an abstract way, to what I'm giving you. And believe me, I am not doing this out of the 'goodness of my heart' or whatever maudlin phrase you might try to apply. It just suits my nature to hand out items that would help to create a rather interesting battle. So, to what is in the box.
If you care to remove the covering, you'll discover a pair of gauntlets. These gauntlets are a pair of my very own - much like the dagger was mine - and contain a magic that I've never really been able to understand. They don't respond to the act of pure war, of war for the sake of war that is. I suspect that you'll be able to work them out, that spark of pure goodness should be enough to show you the way. Use them well when you do work out what the hell the magic surrounding them is, they should come in helpful.
Ares.
Chris folded the letter back over, wondering just why it was that he felt slightly annoyed after reading it, removing the covering in the box. Like the letter had said, inside sat two leather gauntlets, with moulding and sparsely studded with blood red rubies. Carefully, he removed them from the box one at a time, running his fingers over them slightly. He could still sense the magic from them, and wondered vaguely if this was the Powers That Be deciding to load him up with offensive and defensive items should he need them.
"Chris?" Cole called over, looking at the gauntlets in his hands. "Are you going to put them on? Or just side and admire them?" he pondered out loud, looking up at the ceiling and wearing an innocent expression. None of which hide the smirk that had appeared on his face. Chris threw a glare at him, not exactly appreciating the humour. He looked down at the gauntlets, deciding that at the very least, they looked pretty cool. Working quickly, he fixed them on his arms, noting that they weighed very little despite how they looked, but chalked it up to part of the magic of them.
"Come on then Demon Dude," he said, pulling his sunglasses out of his pocket and replacing them on himself. "Let's go … somewhere that's not here."
xXx
Ottery St. Catchpole was very small, Chris decided. It was not, however, entirely unpleasant, it being an almost picture perfect model of the quaint English countryside. It was quiet, and peaceful, and just the right place to be on such a nice afternoon. He walked through the small village, heading for the house on the hill which looked rather like a stone.
"Chris!" Luna came flying out of the front door before he had even reached the stone pathway. "How are you?" she asked him, grinning up widely. "I'm so glad you came visiting, you have to come in an meet Daddy," she instructed him, dragging him by the arm into her house. Chris let out a soft laugh, allowing her to drag him around.
"Luna, you're going to hurt the boy if you keep doing that," Xenophilius called to his daughter, keeping a watchful eye on Chris, who was reminded very strongly of a predator wolf protecting its young. Apart from the eccentric feel he was getting from Xenophilius, the comparison was pretty solid. "You'd be Chris Halliwell?"
"That's who I was when I made my way here earlier," Chris responded. "If I've changed persona's since then I assure you it's not my fault, and must be the cause of the Gods of Irony, or the Gods of Bad Humour at the very least." He shot a grin at Xenophilius, who's stern expression softened slightly, though obviously he didn't quite want this to happen.
"Luna, dear," he called, "could you pour the tea for us please? We'll join you in the sitting room in the minute," he added, giving her a fatherly indulgent smile. Luna nodded, wandering back into the house in her usual dreamy state. Xenophilius waited until he heard the kitchen door close before inviting Chris in.
"Thanks, man," Chris nodded a thank you up at the man. "…You don't trust me," he guessed, looking at the expression on him. "And you're pretty much right too," he added, looking towards the ground.
"Is my daughter safe with you?" Xenophilius asked. Chris paused, considering the question at length. It was odd, but the impulse to lie didn't really come to him this one particular time. It would have been easy enough to spin the lie, it always was, but the impulse for it just wasn't there. "Well, is she safe with you?"
"She's not unsafe," he replied slowly, frowning in thought. "I wouldn't put her in deliberate danger," even though he had been tempted to do so, just to force her white lighter to show up, "but that's not to say she won't be in danger just by knowing me. My family's life is documented enough to prove that to you," he let out a rather bitter chuckle. Xenophilius didn't reply, but continued to watch him with a father's wary eye. "But I can … I can give my word, whatever it counts for now, that I won't deliberately let her get hurt. Not if I can stop it."
Xenophilius continued to stare at Chris for the longest while, a heavy silence descending on the pair. Slowly, he smiled, nodded at Chris to show he understood completely. A half smile crawled on to Chris own face, glad that he had managed to do the right thing in this case. He knew that Luna would never forgive him if he managed to make her father hate him. Speaking of the little Ravenclaw, he couldn't help but grin as her head popped out from the kitchen, somehow managing to have gotten itself covered in flour. She grinned widely.
"Tea's ready."
