BEFORE NIGTH AWAKENS
By Sickle Sword
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Disclaimer: I don't own anything so don't sue me. Fine, try. You won't get much.

A/N: Quite a long chapter. Have fun!Again unanswered questions? Wait to the end!

Oh, and I still don't have a beta! Feel free to offer yourself!

AK8- Aw, what you wrote was so sweet! I swear I began melting. Unfortunately, I'm still in high-school so can't really do anything that includes writing except fanfiction, of course, but I'm hoping to have the courage to do it one day! . . .enough of the gut-wrenching confession. About the timeline. Hmmm. . I don't really know, but that's not the demons who took him in Prince Charmed. As for if it's before or after- I'll flip a coin later. . ;)

It should have been me who had told him the truth, even when I didn't know what the meaning of the truth is, for I have lived in a lie. I should have held him close to my arms and closer to my heart and even when he chose to go away, I should have followed. It should have been me who died. Not him.

Chapter 6: NighTingale

You are a killer.

You extend your hand and a moment before you hear the scream, you know you have hit your target. That he had died. There isn't triumph in your soul, or darkness, only acceptance. You have done what you had to do.

Outwardly, you smile cockily, with so much arrogance and self adoration. While one inner part of you feels sick about who you have become, the other side is happy. You have crossed the ultimate line. Now, there's no coming back from what you have done. You can fight it, sure, but you can't win. It's pointless to feel sorry now. You had done what was essential and done it well. Now, it's up to the universe.

Smugly, you open your eyes, staring at the pile of ashes that was once alive. You shiver as you force your mind to shut down. You don't need to think now, only to be led by reflexes. Only to live through today and tomorrow. And the days that will come later. Until none of that will matter anymore.

You are not careful enough. You feel something stinging your chest in unbearable warmth before you feel the soothing being replaced with pain. You were hit by a Darklighter arrow. Peachy. You stumble to get your plan carried away despite the pain, and so as you see the tiny figure disappearing with the familiar blue lights, you let a pain-tear drop while you struggle to reach safety.

But home is too far away. So you settle with dwarfing yourself at the farest corner of the room, letting the shadows hide you. Your face wears a last grateful smile before you let reality sink in.

And sink with it.

When you gain clarity once again, you can see swimming eyes staring at you. Wyatt.
Sitting slowly, you realize that you are not hurt anymore. So long had passed before you've felt free from pain that you feel almost naked without it. But it feels good. Weird, but nice. Feeling that someone's watching, you ascend your eyes to meet your both parents staring at you.

They are probably wondering what you are doing here, and you mentally shrug. It's not like they would understand if you told them anyway.
You hesitate for a moment when looking at Leo you see uncertainty in his eyes. That's new; he usually has a very decisive glare when it's coming to you. Decisive about your unworthiness of trust.

Then it occurs to you that he looks well. It wasn't him who healed you. It was Wyatt.

The impact of it no longer hurts after all the time that passed, it's only nibbling a bit in your chest. It wasn't that he didn't try. He simply failed. And even if he doesn't know why- you do.

The trigger is love.
So, in another ironic twist of reality, it was the fact that your dad doesn't love you that saved him.
There are times in which you swear that if you found who wrote the script to your life, you would have killed him.

Returning to your . .. their. . .home, you hear the whole story. From the moment the Grafwel demon took Wyatt to the moment he orbed back to bring them to you. They didn't know about the deal. They couldn't know about the innocent you killed to save Wyatt. You can't have them knowing. All they do know, or think they know, is that the toddler saved you and defeated the demon. It's fine, you don't need their thanks. You only need them alive. So what if you had to do what was had to be done in the way? The only thing that matters now is that you will have a future to return to.

None of what you did matter.

No. it doesn't matter that you have killed an innocent.

Only, it does to you.

Back in your room, in your safety, you know you are doomed. You are no more than a monster that enjoys from blood and grows from hatred. You have murdered an innocent. You have murdered your last shred of hope. You always hoped that once you are freed from Wyatt's grip, you would be yourself again. How little you really knew of life. They never are in the way you anticipate. Your old self would have never killed so cold bloodily, with so much. . .nothing. There isn't another description of it. When you have taken the innocent's life, you've felt nothing.

So much for being in the side of good.

It's not like you haven't killed before. You vanquished many demons, witches and alias. But that was different somehow. Before, you could always hide and soothe your consciousness with the lie that it was an order from Wyatt. That your place is too small to make a real difference and even if you tried, nothing good will come out from it. And that killing one person isn't that bad in the bigger picture. You had to stay alive for you are the last good witch alive.
You considered yourself good then. Foolish. It was already then when the seeds of who you really were- nothing but a demon- were planted.

You should have known.

But now, you can't hide anymore behind the mask of the things you have to do in order to save your family. Your future. You simply can't look at yourself and see that even thought everything had happened, nothing in your reflection had really changed.

You know how the world works. Wyatt was like that, too. You never knew when the first time he killed an innocent was. His face never changed.
As yours. You stayed the same way. Only different.

God, you're confusing yourself. This is not good.

But then again, what is GOOD? You certainly aren't.

You orb down to the manor, your childhood place, and you pass your finger longingly at the old living-room table, remembering all the happy hours you've spent in this place. Before it was tainted by evil forever. Your only hope is that this time around, things would be different. That you will be different this time. Simply different.

Piper is coming down as something inside you is breaking hurtfully. She's not happy with you. Not that you can blame her. Not really. She doesn't trust you. She thinks you're evil.

You agree.

And the truth is that you're so far from her that you don't even care anymore. You're simply happy that there is some sort of reaction from her and not the icily glare you've got from her during the last month.

Childish, hu?

But you miss them. You miss Wyatt and Adam. You miss your family.

And now, the truth is that it's killing you. To kill others. To keep all those secrets all the time. You can't stay anymore in that semi-life routine when you can't breathe anymore. From love, passion. And shame. You are ashamed of what you have become. You have enough of telling lies. But somehow every time your heart nearly gives away your secret, it isn't the right time. You were ready to tell them when a demon jumped in. when the girls went missing, again. Or when Wyatt was kidnapped. So many things stood in your way when the secret was nearly out, that you take it as a sign. It should never be known. But to knowing is one thing and having to celebrate and mourn everything by yourself is another thing. It takes something out of the person you once thought you were- someone who listened. It is too hard to listen when the only thing your ears are forever looking for are 2 small, impossible words- my son. She doesn't know.

She doesn't want too, really. Isn't trying hard enough. Not that you can blame her. You can be annoying. And. . .you deserve it, honestly speaking. Being ignored by your family is the toughest thing from all that the universe can punish you with. You wonder if that's the usual way of being punished of killing an innocent. And if that's why Wyatt became so heartless, because he too, suffered.

She, your mother, suddenly looks at you, her eyes quivering with suspect. Just like then, when she looked at Wyatt. And then she leaves. She gives you the silent therapy.

Again.

Before she disappears entirely, she's looking back. At you. And then she continues walking to her safe place, her fortress, her room

You know that because every time she had to handle things she couldn't, she simply fortified herself in the room. You hated her for that. Maybe if she had gone out and had tried to face Wyatt when he began hanging out with his buddies, she would have lived. Yes, she asked you before if you blame her for your future.

You said you didn't. You lied.

It was only because of her, because she couldn't, no, wouldn't, fight for her life that the world didn't survive. It was the final thing that broke Wyatt and gave him the final seal of approval from fate to go and become a tyrant.

But you also don't blame her. She couldn't have known. She was simply too tired from life after her sisters' death. This is too late blaming her anyway. In your time she's gone.

A nd now she's gone from your sight again. You give in to the fear that you won't see her again for only tiny second before you force yourself to remember the facts. She only went to bed. You wish you could come with her, cuddle like a little boy under the blanket and hear her saying that everything is going to be alright. But you can't.

"Promise me one thing, mom" you whisper, fighting tears. You can't cry now. You have lost your right to cry. Only human beings cry. You are not one of them anymore. You are nothing more than a killer. "Promise me that when this is all over, you'll buy my soul back"

And then you let go. You cry.

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