Sorry, been out of town for quite a while. No computer. Wrote this up really fast, so sorry for any errors.
CHAPTER 53
Gettin' Lucky
Wyatt Halliwell had never felt before the way he felt in this instant. His mind was clear except one burning thought running through it over and over like a flashing neon sign: Kill Zayel. It was the only thing he could think of as his body burned with the hottest rage he'd ever known.
The underworld would mark this day as the day The Twice Blessed came into his destiny. It was the first time each and every demon he met suffered a quick death with a dismissing wave of Wyatt Halliwell's hand. The caverns they dwelled in shook as he went past, his emotions wreaking havoc on the rocky earth causing cave ins and general destruction. Those who saw him and lived remembered seeing his power rather than any physical form. A raw surge of unbridled strength walking amongst them, completely annihilating everything in his way.
From this day on, the demons understood why they'd feared the coming of age of the Twice Blessed Child.
A familiar face watched the devastation with sadness, not for the demons but for the young man bringing it about. After watching and waiting for the right moment, he knew he had to act. Sitting idly by wasn't an option. He couldn't let what happened to him happen to Good's most powerful defender.
"Wyatt Halliwell," the observer called out.
The man turned his iron shaded gaze to the sound of the voice, raising a hand, ready to vanquish anything that moved. "Who are you? What do you want?"
From the shadows, slowly and unsurely appeared Marshall. The teenaged ghost looked sickly and thin. His spirit no longer seemed capable of fully rejuvenating his host body anymore. The corpse looked just as one might expect: like death. However, his eyes shone with the only spark of life left to him. "Do you know me?"
"Should I?"
"I was a Vetala once. Now, a lost spirit, trapped here."
"Marshall. You worked with us against Zayel before. Tell me, do you know where he's hiding?"
Marshall braced himself as he replied, "Yes. I won't tell you, though."
Wyatt's hand flew through the air, cutting through it while sending the other teen backwards, the body hitting the wall hard. The impact was so hard hitting the decomposing form lost his left arm as dust particles flew from the shoulder joint.
"What's wrong with you?" Wyatt asked, horrified at what he'd caused yet too shocked for any apology.
"I'm dying. Just like you will." Marshall rose from the ground after an initial struggle to move. "My hatred turned me into a monster. Turned me into the Vetala responsible for killing your friend. It kept me here after my time was done, so I could hunt Zayel and avenge my sister's murder. It's been almost a year, and I've come no closer to killing Zayel, and even if I could, it wouldn't be worth it. I missed my ride to what comes next. I missed it and now...I'm too weak to move on."
"If you tell me where he is, we'll both get exactly what we want."
Marshall shook his head, the sorrow palpable. "No, Wyatt. Whatever you do, you'll never get what you really want through killing him. Killing him wouldn't give me my sister back. It wouldn't give you back what you lost either. And killing him like this? Letting all the anger and hurt and hate control you. . .it'll make you a monster too."
The words hit Wyatt like a slap in the face. He would become a monster...just like before. Just like in the world one Chris had fought so hard to save.
It was his most deep seeded fear.
"If you go on like this, it'll destroy your humanity," Marshall continued. "Worse yet, it'll probably take away the reason you're doing all this. Whatever he did to you or your family. . .would they understand the kind of person you're becoming? Becoming a monster to get revenge for my family actually took them permanently away from me. I can't ever see them now. I doubt you want to be forever parted from your reason. Right?"
Wyatt thought on Casey. He had never loved any woman the way he loved her. For years he'd wanted nothing more than a chance to show her how perfect they could be together. He wanted to hold her against him and feel her heart beat against his chest and experience her warm, sweet scented breath against his skin. In the deepest corner of his heart, he'd always thought he'd marry her someday. After all, how perfect would it be to marry the first and only girl he'd fallen for?
She probably hated him now. The very sight of him would more than likely make her sick to her stomach.
"You're glowing."
Wyatt glanced down, seeing the familiar golden lights circling around him. He reached out for Marshall, pulling the walking corpse with him into the swirl of magic. The two of them disappeared from the cavern in the twinkling orbs.
The first face Wyatt saw upon materializing in the attic of the manor was his Aunt Paige's. Her mouth was screwed up in her classic annoyed manner.
"You've got some explainin' to do, Mister," his youngest aunt remarked, half jesting and half seriously wanting to strangle him.
"What were you thinking, Wyatt?" Phoebe asked, her doe brown eyes filled with some sort of mixture of sympathy and concern. "Do you really want your mother to have to worry about both her children right now? Not to mention what could have happened to you down there."
Prue, her icy gaze narrowed on her nephew, shook her head, "Hardly the point. He's powerful enough to do anything. Too bad he's just a kid. A kid who should trust the adults of the family to take care of things instead of going off half-cocked to vanquish a dangerous demon who already managed to do some serious damage to him today."
"I know, I know," Wyatt conceded. "I already got an ear full, trust me."
Paige tilted her head to the side, frowning in confusion as she noticed for the first time the young stranger at her nephew's side. "Uh, not to be rude or anything, but...who the heck is that?"
Molly, who had been quietly sitting on the sofa so far, instantly recognized the spirit behind the eyes of the walking dead. "Marshall."
"Hi," the ghost quietly greeted.
Wyatt turned to his three aunts. "Listen, he has been an ally for a while now, helping us with the Triad and Zayel, but he needs our help. He's stuck here. You three are powerful magical beings, isn't there some way we can help him move on? He's too weak to do it himself, and I figure we owe him that much."
"Sweetie, that's a nice thought, but we need to get to the hospital. All of us do. Your brother needs our support," Phoebe said. "Like now."
Panicked, Wyatt turned to Molly, "What happened? Is she okay? Is the baby...?"
Molly couldn't meet his gaze, "She's stable. The baby. . ." Molly had to wipe the tears from her eyes. "Chris said the doctors thought it was time to say goodbyes."
"Which," Phoebe continued, "is why we can't help you right now. We need to get there before it's too late."
Wyatt shook his head, fighting back his emotions. "Not acceptable. You three stay here, and help Marshall. Molly and I will go to the hospital. Mom can freeze the scene, and I'll sneak in and heal Lucas. Just make sure he gets to the other side before he just fades away, okay? I owe him."
Before any of the women could utter a word of protest, Wyatt had grabbed Molly's arm and orbed them both away from the attic.
000
Chris, decked out in full scrubs, mask and gloves, stared down at his tiny newborn son from his perch by the child's side. The little boy was so small, only three pounds and five ounces. The little body was tinged blue from the poor circulation, and the tubes attached to the minuscule arm and which went traversing down the poor babe's nose made the baby look more like a science experiment than a human child.
"I don't know what to say," Chris started, his eyes never leaving the face of his child, "It wasn't supposed to go down this way."
Chris turned to look out the glass window of the neo-natal intensive care unit and found his mother watching from the hallway, a sad smile on her face as she nodded encouragingly at her son while his father had to fight back a smothering sorrow of his own, barely holding it together as his arm wrapped around his wife.
The son turned to his own son, renewed in his conviction to do this right. He cleared his throat. "You're really sick, they say. Doctor says the medicine isn't taking. They want to perform surgery, but without you having improved it's more than likely going to kill you..."
Chris lowered his head, taking in a deep breath to calm himself. He raised his head. "I told them no. I think you'd want more time to fight. I think you deserve that."
The baby struggled to open his eyes, but could only keep them open half a second or so.
The young father took it as a sign. "See. I knew you would. You're a Halliwell. We never go down without a fight. You'll learn that when you get older."
Chris tentatively reached through the holes in the side of the glorified box containing his son, lightly touching the infant's cheek with a finger. "I can't promise to protect you or to help you through this. I'm not all powerful. I'm pretty much a regular guy with a few extra tricks up my sleeve. None of which have helped so far. I know fathers are supposed to know everything and be able to do these great feats for their kids, but I'm pretty sure I'm not one of those fathers. I'm pretty much a kid myself, which is just your luck, right?"
The witchlighter took a breath. "I wish I was better at this stuff. I wish I knew what to say or do right now. I mean, I'm supposed to be in here for closure or some sort of bullshit like that, but I can't. I can't say goodbye. I've never been good at them, and I doubt I ever will be because saying goodbye is like giving up, and I have never quit anything before. Not once."
Chris removed his hands from the child, pulling them back into his lap. "Casey should be here. Not me. She thinks she's lousy with kids, but I would bet anything she'd know the right thing to say. That's your mom, you know. She's one of the most amazing people I've ever known. You'd love her. She already loves you so much. She thinks you're fine. I told her you were because she'd fall apart if she knew the truth. Not that she's weak or anything. No way. Not her. On a good day, she could probably take me down– not that I'd ever tell her that. It's just. . .she's too much like me. If she knew what was going on, she'd want to be here and she'd want to do some sort of crazy thing to fix it all, and she'd probably do something to really hurt herself."
Chris watched in silence for a minute, wondering how the little boy in front of him that seemed so perfect could be so ill.
"I should go check on her," he quietly finished. "You probably don't want to listen to me anymore anyway, right? That's the thing with sons– you're supposed to ignore your dads. Just. . .if this is the only advice I can ever give you. . .don't quit. A whole bunch of people are waiting to meet you and love you."
Chris rose from the chair and marched from the room without looking back once. As his mother and father both reached out to him, he brushed them off, muttering about needing to change.
He didn't bother actually changing. He didn't care enough to put the energy into it. He want straight to Casey's room, wanting nothing more than to be by her side and help her get well. He thought perhaps that was something he could actually help with.
As he turned to corner toward her room, he spotted Molly outside his friend's door. His feet quickly carried him to her, wrapping her up in his arms and burying his face in her neck. "Molly."
His girlfriend held him tightly, knowing how rattled he must be to show this kind of emotion in public. "It's okay, Chris. We have a plan."
The young man pulled back, "We?"
Wyatt appeared in the doorway to the hospital room. "We."
Chris lunged forward at his sibling. "You son of a bitch."
The two toppled backwards onto the floor, the younger brother pummeling the older with hit after hit while Molly cried out in shock and horror. It took a full three minutes for her to pull her lover off his brother, dragging him away.
"What is the matter with you?" she demanded.
Chris glared past her at his older brother. "Ask him. Ask him what he was doing while my best friend was bleeding to death in the parking lot. Ask him why it is Casey suddenly found herself going into premature labor all alone."
Molly turned a questioning gaze to Wyatt.
"He has every right to hate me," the blond replied softly. "They both do. But," he turned his focus to Chris, "it doesn't change the fact I can help. Let me. You may not have the power to heal, but I do. Let Mom freeze the hospital long enough I can save Lucas."
"Save Lucas?" a weak and tired voice questioned from behind the trio.
Chris' mouth parted in horror as his best friend's gaze met his. Her eyes were glimmering with tears as she realized he'd lied to her. She choked on her breath, trying to stay calm enough to find out the truth. "What's wrong with our son?"
"We'll fix it," Wyatt promised.
Casey didn't look at him. "I wasn't talking to you."
She pinned Chris down with her gaze. "Answer me."
Chris couldn't find words.
"Damn it, tell me what is wrong with my baby," she cried, suddenly wincing in pain. She hissed, reaching for her abdomen.
"You're going to tear your stitches," Molly quietly warned.
"No me importa."
"He's sick," Molly finally answered in her boyfriend's stead. "But we have plan. You just need to trust that we're going to take care of it, and in the mean time, take care of yourself. He's going to need his mother."
Chris moved to his friend's side. "Have I ever let you down before?"
"Do you really want me to answer that?"
The young man swept her hair from her face, gently kissing her forehead. Into her ear he whispered, "I'm going to do everything possible to save our son, Case. I swear."
"You better."
000
With the flick of her wrists, Piper had effectively trapped the hospital in a moment. Nurses were statues holding phones and updating charts. Doctors stood with coffee half raised to their mouths and mid-conversation. Patients ceased feeling their pain, stopped dying for a moment. Only silence and the few untouchable beings were allowed to continue on.
"You don't have long," Piper warned the children. "It's a hospital. People are always coming and going and Leo can't stop everyone. You only have a few minutes, so go use them before I have to unfreeze them all."
Wyatt, Chris and Molly hurried into the NICU, making a straight dash for Lucas. The Twice Blessed reached the infant first. With hands held out, he closed his eyes and attempted to do what he'd done a thousand times before. Only after a moment, he could tell nothing was happening.
"What's wrong?" Chris sharply questioned. "What are you waiting for?"
"I'm not," the sibling answered. "It's not working."
"What the hell do you mean it's not working. It always works. You're you. You're Mr. Powers. Save my son, Wyatt. You put him here, get him out."
The Twice Blessed struggled not to flinch at the biting words. "You don't think I'm trying?"
"Are you? Or are you so freaking jealous you'd rather see your own nephew die than me have a child with Casey?"
Molly watched the little boy with sorrow unknown to her before now. He was so tiny and helpless lying there. She wondered at how such a perfect little person could be put through so much during their first day of life. It wasn't fair.
"I would never intentionally hurt you or her. You're my brother, Chris. I would die for you and your son."
"Until the next hot piece of ass came along at least."
Molly had stopped hearing the others. All she could focus on was her charge. She could already see the similarities between the boy and his father. It helped knowing what the youth was eventually going to look like already. Eventually, the child would even grow to have his father's stunning green eyes. Perhaps it was the tie to Chris that made Molly fall immediately in love with the little boy back when he was still safe in his mother, but now, seeing him so frail. . .all she wanted to do was protect him.
Wyatt fought not to let Chris see how much he was hurting, and only succeeded in hiding his feelings when he saw a glow from the corner of his eye. Turning toward it, he saw Molly's hands lightly golden. "It has to be you."
"What?" she asked.
"Put your hands over him, quick," Wyatt barked.
Molly glanced down, her mouth parting as she realized her hands felt unusually warm, and the reason was they were glowing with healing powers. She swallowed nervously before doing as Wyatt ordered. It took only a few moments to tell a difference in the youth. His color improved, his little legs started kicking furiously, and then. . .his little eyes opened to look up at her.
They were already a brilliant shade of green.
"Thank god," she heard Wyatt breathe beside her.
"I did it," Molly said, smiling down at her charge. "I actually did it."
"He's going to be okay," Chris allowed himself to voice aloud. "My son's going to be okay..."
The young man turned to his girlfriend, hugging and kissing her with all the joy and relief he'd ever felt in his life. He put his hands to her face, staring into her hazel eyes with more than the love he'd always bestowed upon her: he was looking at her with pure gratitude. "Lucas is so very lucky to have a guardian angel like you watching over him," Chris murmured.
Molly suddenly gave a little laugh, "I guess that's where it came from."
"What?"
"His nickname. Lucky."
Chris turned to look on his little boy. "It fits. After everything he's already been through, look at him. Strong and healthy. Lucky to be alive."
"I'm just glad everything worked out," Wyatt quietly offered.
Which was when Lucky decided to orb away.
tbc. . .
