The Second First Born
N.B.I hope you're in it for the long haul! Please R&R! Also, disclaimer. I don't own Charmed, the show or any of the original characters.
Hardly daring
to breath, he pressed his back firmly against the scored stone walls.
He could hear the low rumble of voices just around the next corner,
and one of them was familiar, uncomfortably so. He slowly
edged sideways, placing each footfall carefully like a cat. He closed
his eyes, and with his head turned upwards prayed that they couldn't
hear his heart pounding in his chest. As he got to the corner,
he took a deep breath as if he were about to dive into water. Fear
fleetingly froze him to the spot and he considered turning away,
letting it be, today of all days… A sudden silence brought
him out of his apprehension, as the voices seemed to dissipate into
nothing. He sighed, partly relieved, but there was a part of him that
dreaded what would happen next. He turned his head, and he peered
around the corner. The little light that flickered came from a
small group of candles that were sat at one end of the chamber. Stood
in front of them was a teenage boy, with short blonde hair. 'Chris, it's rude to stare…' a voice
broke the silence, and the final word reverberated around the high
ceiling. Chris's eyes snapped into the back of the boy's head in
shock. How did he know…? 'How I know, and what I know are
my own business…unlike you…' 'How can you stand there smiling, how can you do this
today?' he demanded. 'Chris, if you
want to cry, then go ahead. After all, it is a very sad day…' the
boy stated, using a tone of voice purposefully intended to provoke
him. It evidently worked, as Chris returned a look of pure
contempt, 'Mom isn't even cold in the ground…' Chris said, 'No, actually. You were late, you
made a scene during the service…' Chris raised an eyebrow,
'Wyatt, look around you. You're stood in a crypt, making deals
with demons…you can't even be counted as a witch
anymore…' Realisation dawned over Chris, and he stared at
Wyatt, 'Those demons…they're…' he trailed off, not wanting
to say it. Wyatt looked back coldly, 'What are you talking
about?' Chris stuttered, a fresh set of tears reforming
behind his eyes, 'Those were the demons that came that night…they
ki...killed them…' Chris pointed an accusing finger at Wyatt,
'They came to meet…you. This was all your fault…' Chris yelled back, 'I saw them! In the
kitchen…' Disgust built up even more inside of
Chris and all the pain he had felt over the past few days needed an
outlet, someway to escape from inside. 'You asshole…' he growled,
before flinging his arm outwards. Wyatt yelled as he was lifted off
his feet and was sent flying backwards, directly across the
chamber. Chris walked
over to where Wyatt fell, on his front and struggling to remain
conscious. Chris grabbed him by his neck and lifted him up, fury
clouding his every judgement, and his mind was screaming for him to
hurt him, make him understand how it was meant to feel… Pinning
him to the wall by his neck, he raised his hand and clenched his
fist. It was like a release and he let go of Wyatt's
neck, reeling with panic. Wyatt steadied himself on the wall before
lifting up his head slightly and staring at Chris through seething
eyes, 'That was probably the most stupid thing you've ever
done…' Chris backed away as he caught the anger in Wyatt's
eyes, but Wyatt's hand reached out and grabbed his jacket sleeve.
Chris looked pleadingly at Wyatt and searched for something in his
eyes that he could understand; that was recognisable to the brother
that he had once known, and still loved. Wyatt grabbed Chris'
neck and lifted him up. Chris choked and started to kick his legs
urgently, wanting to tell him something, anything… Chris put both of his hands onto his neck and
tried to pry away the fingers that held a pincer-like grip around his
neck…
He
noted the boy's blackened silhouette, contrasting heavily with the
warm glow of the candlelight. Black aura for a blackened heart, he
thought coldly.
The figure turned and Chris
could see the sadistic smile that was captured upon his face. Hatred
shot through his body, drowning out everything he had felt…he felt
sick.
He could feel hot tears begin to prickle
behind his eyes, but he blinked them back.
The boy
looked back, stonily, 'Don't give me that Chris…I turned up
didn't I?'
The boy interrupted, 'The
'service' was a complete joke anyway. Since when do witches take
to hanging around churches?'
Wyatt suddenly took in what Chris was
saying, 'No…'
Wyatt's
voice got louder and louder, 'Don't you dare put that on my
head!'
Wyatt said, his voice quieter again, 'End of
conversation, Chris.
All the times he wanted to
scream, tell everyone that he wasn't coping, that he didn't want
to live this way anymore…
His back struck a high stone shelf that jutted out from
the flat marble wall, and he fell to the ground.
As if time slowed, he saw himself with Wyatt, saw him ready
to strike. He saw himself, just seconds ago, throw him across the
room, and watched the shock develop upon Wyatt's face as he hit the
jagged rock.
'This would
be so much easier on you if you just kept still, you know,' Wyatt
stated, coolly.
Chris
turned his head so he could see better. What was he doing on the
floor? Aching all over he slowly got up and looked around.
It was silent inside the chamber; no trace of Wyatt, although he had
left his mark. All around Chris were fallen pieces of stone, and
burnt-out candles littered the ground. There was a throbbing
pain above his eye, and he tenderly felt about with his fingertips.
When he pulled his hand away, it was stained with blood. 'Chris…?'
a small voice echoed through the chamber, the still air making it
sound ghostly. It was Laura. 'What
are you doing down…you're bleeding…'she said moving towards
him.
He sat up, and the pain hit him; the shock wearing off in
seconds.
'I'm here,' he called. She
followed his voice, appearing through the dark passageway. The small
amount of candles that were still lit showed her small tearstained
face and she looked stiff and over formal in her black dress.
He tried to pull away, but she held onto his arms, and
touched the small gash above his eye…
Chris had finally gone quiet. Piper cast another concerned eye over him and another feeling of ineffectiveness washed over her. She picked up a hand that lay by his side and held it, almost willing him to wake up. What she had read in the Book just moments before was floating around inside her head.
She studied his face, taking this opportunity
to memorise every…scar?
She brushed the small blemish above his
eye with her fingertip, wondering how he'd got it. She'd never
noticed it before, and she felt slightly odd knowing that maybe she
never would…
