~Victor's Apartment, Downtown San Francisco~
Phoebe glared at her phone screen for the umpteenth time that morning. The digital clock on its front side read: 8:32am. Piper, Paige and Wyatt were probably on their way to Wyatt's preschool interview. She was waiting for them to text her again, to ask if she was going to join them but her waiting was to no avail. She knew she was being selfish. The preschool interview would be for Victor's future but she couldn't bring herself to go.
"Coffee?" her father said jarring her from her thoughts. Her father had been the most gracious of hosts. He only shooed her compliments away with he loved spending time with his grandson and after a beat he would add, and daughter. And he was a natural. Little Victor was enamored by his grandfather and the endless tickles and impromptu dances the man provided. It was easy to tell that her father was a natural around children. What a shame that inner family turmoil had led him to abandon her and her sisters.
"Thanks Daddy," Phoebe replied.
Her father swayed over to the playpen hoisting her infant son like an airplane above his head. Big Victor made engine noises and animatedly announced that little Victor had landed when he placed the boy inside of his pack 'n' play. Phoebe flicked on the television, thankful that it could distract her son for the time being.
"You alright there Miss. Phoebe?" her father asked playfully.
Phoebe had told him the night before of the tension between her and Piper. Of the new whitelighter and the chaos that had ensued following his arrival. She knew her father was probably confused by all of her witch terminology but he listened intently until she was finished ranting.
"I've been better….Victor?!" Her toddler son who had been intently watching Seasame Street now had his head bowed and his eyes closed. If she didn't know any better she'd say that he was praying. She scrambled from her chair and began to very gingerly shake his tiny shoulders. She cupped his face. He felt normal. He just wasn't opening his eyes. No, no, no, no, no. Her fingers found the vein in her baby's arm. His heart was still beating. Her father was saying something but she couldn't focus enough to hear him, "baby? Sweetheart, open your eyes for Mama. Let me see those pretty blue orbs. C'mon Victor, just open your eyes." She scooped him up from the pack 'n' play and could feel his breath on her cheek. And then with an infectious giggle, her son opened his eyes as if nothing at all had been the matter.
"Thank god," Victor said as he sighed in relief. Phoebe's phone began to rang but she was too focused on making sure her son was alright, Victor answered it, "It's Paige. She says that Victor astral something to the manor and that you should go home."
Phoebe had never quite had a drive like the one she had just completed. Her eyes kept looking back at Victor in his car seat, curious by his rampant power development. It had taken Prue nearly three years to develop the ability to astral project. It took her son twelve months. He had barely started to use his telekinesis. How peculiar and terrifying at the same time.
When she entered the manor, she found Paige and Piper standing at the base of the stairs by the table. A head rested as its centerpiece. Phoebe tried to shield her son's eyes from the head as she laid him down in the playpen they kept in the living room.
"Hi Phoebe," Paige greeted.
Piper said nothing. She and Paige looked as if neither had slept all night. Phoebe wondered if there'd been an attack on the night prior but if no one was going to say anything she figured it was best not to ask. Leo appeared at the top of the stairs.
"Magic school Leo? That's what this door leads to?" Piper questioned.
Leo nodded.
"Just so you know, this is what's keeping your son from developing social skills." Piper said indignantly. As she proclaimed this, the form of Victor appeared at the base of the stairs in front of his mother's feet. He starred intently up at the door that had materialized midday up the stairs. Phoebe watched in amazement as his astral form disappeared a few moments later, just as Prue's had, in a reddish tint.
"He developed astral projection Phoebe? That's an incredible feat." Leo said proudly.
"Leo, I'm talking about our lives here. We can't just drop what we're doing every time someone's head comes rolling down the stairs." Piper interrupted.
"I don't believe you're saying this. You don't understand, this isn't supposed to happen. Magic school is supposed to be protected from evil. It's the only way Gideon can teach magic to the next generation, Wyatt and Victor's generation." Leo responded.
"Magic school?" Phoebe questioned, "could Victor go?"
"Sure he can. When he's older of course," supplied the head on the table. "They'll be able to teach him how to hone that astral projection so he can use his powers in astral form."
Phoebe couldn't help but to beam. She had of course put much stock into researching different preschools. She and Piper had done it together. They had both gushed about sending the boys off and pitying the teacher who'd end up in charge of them. But they both worried about exposure. Piper was the one who insisted on a normal life and a normal life meant preschool. Phoebe was hesitant. She thought maybe kindergarten would be better, where the boys could maybe develop a further understanding of what it meant to keep a secret.
"I'm sorry to interrupt but I think we should help the magic school, because we can't just keep that head on our foyer table, you know? What is it, a centre-piece?" Paige said gesturing.
"Okay, fine but we're," Piper gestured to herself and Leo, "not bringing Wyatt. Pheebs, what about Victor?"
"I'll get Chris to watch them." Leo proclaimed. Phoebe knew her sisters well enough to know something was up when instead of answering Leo; they made grimaces and exchanged glances with one another.
"Er-I'll ask," said Piper. "I think he's already babysitting, what's two toddlers."
Victor had lost count of how many hours he'd been trapped in the cage. Four? Five? He couldn't exactly make out what time it was. He wasn't sure what time he'd been put there. But now he had company. His toddler self, Chris and the baby version of all evil were in the nursery. Chris had summoned an demon who could apparently detect evil. "I'm sure that'll go swell." Victor had called after his retreating form.
"How's it going?" he asked his toddler-self. It was a very strange thing to watch yourself stare blankly at yourself. He also didn't expect an answer. His mother always said he had a bit of a speech delay. And it was evident now watching himself that baby Wyatt despite being younger was way ahead in that area of development.
"Mama." His toddler self said.
"I know buddy. I know. She'll be back soon." He soothed. He remembered then, that Phoebe hadn't been around when they locked him up. Would she be suspicious? Could he astral project to her and get her to free him? He closed his eyes and whispered, "Mom."
When he opened them he found he was cold and in a place that did not resemble the Magic school he remembered so fondly from his childhood. It was a cave of sorts. And there sat his mother and a teenage girl he didn't remember surrounded by a fading fire. The teenager stood up instantly and nervously.
"He's not the headless horsemen," Phoebe interjected quickly. "What the hell? How'd you get out of the cage?"
"I'm astral projecting." He said softly. This was a mistake. Of course her sisters had told her about the revelation that he was sent by Wyatt. He averted his eyes from her mistrusting glare. It was odd to see it plastered across her young features when usually she looked at him with such love and sometimes disappointment. But mostly, love. "where are we? I don't recognize this place."
"Do you go here?" the teenager asked.
"Yes. I mean I will." Victor admitted. He sauntered forward taking a seat in the sand equidistance from both his mother and the girl. "It's one of my favorite places. And hell the headless horseman was a legendary tale that the older kids used to tell us about. I thought it was a myth, myself."
In Magic School, he, Wyatt and Chris had been legends, the famed Charmed Ones' only progeny. It carried quite a bit of weight in Magic school that it didn't in normal school. There were classes dedicated to their family's history and to their home. Albeit, the history they learned a bit moderated and left out quite a bit of details. The main one being who his father was. He always told his classmates that he was some mortal and left it at that. The school became a safe haven and then it wasn't. It was one of the first places Wyatt corrupted after beginning his reign.
"Do you know who's conjuring it? Or why?" his mother questioned.
"No. The older kids just liked talking about how it chopped off heads. Sorry." He shrugged his shoulders and picked up a handful of sand. Neither of the girls said anything. They just watched as he did as the sand slipped out of his hand and into a pile. "What are you guys doing?"
"I'm attempting to go on a vision quest. But all it's caused me is pain." His mother said with a pointed glare. The girl must be a Shaman then. Victor could remember learning about them in school. There was one when he was at school.
"These visions require sacrifice but won't it be worth it to be assured of your future?" the shaman replied. Her eyes gazing suspiciously in his direction, did she know who he truly was?
"Alright." His mother said taking the ladle and chugging the strange liquid. Her eyelids fell shut. Victor watched her face. It was still odd to see her hair so short. He only remembered her hair being long and curly, but not as long as Aunt Piper's. It made her features much more pronounced. He had her chin, he decided then, fondly rubbing his own chin. Everyone always told him that he looked like his father. But evidently that couldn't be true. Surely, the Charmed Ones of 2003 would be able to remember Cole clearly and none of them questioned him about. Or they were just being dense.
"You okay there?" the shaman questioned.
"Yeah…yeah. Just spaced out for a moment."
"Contemplating chins?" she teased.
Victor bit on his lip. He'd forgotten shamans were telepathic. "What's your name?"
"Enola. And you're Victor. Phoebe's son."
Victor smiled sheepishly. He was not going to deny the truth not to a telepath. He drew his legs up to his chest and rested his aching head on them. Astral projection or not, he still felt pain. And evidently he was still overcoming a hangover from the whiskey he treated himself. Enola's glare was unnerving.
"Why don't you just tell her who are you?" Enola questioned. "It's evident how much she loves you-er-the younger you. She's going on this vision quest partly because of you."
"I know," he answered, "but I can't. It'd jeopardize my mission."