A/N: here ya go! please R&R!
Not Another Demon Boyfriend!: Chapter 6: This can't be easy, can it?
Piper POV
"So, Prue, how've you been?" Piper was sitting on the grey grass.
"Dead, flying, the usual stuff," Prue was sitting across from her.
"So, how's Mom and Grams?" Piper asked curiously.
"Good, also dead and flying, but good," Prue replied.
"That's good," Piper nodded her head slowly.
They sat in an awkward silence for a few minutes.
"Okay, now that we're all caught up, how about we figure out why the hell I'm here," Piper remarked in a business-like tone.
"Well, let's think for a second. Why is this world gray? Maybe it has something to do with how you feel," Prue suggested.
"What? That's the stupidest idea I ever heard!" Piper exclaimed. "No offense, Prue, I know you've been out of the game for awhile now, but how messed up is that?"
Leo POV
"Wyatt!" Leo yelled. "Don't do this!"
"Don't you dare tell me what to do!" Wyatt shouted angrily as he heaved another fireball at the Elder. "Dear old Dad, do you know what you do us? Do you even care?"
"Wyatt, talk to me!" Leo pleaded.
"No, you never talked to me, why should I talk to you?" Wyatt replied as he threw another fireball.
Paige POV
Paige had been wandering for what felt like hours. She began to shout "Hello? Can anybody hear me? Hello?"
No one answered her cries. "Great, just perfect," Paige mumbled.
Suddenly something rustled in the bushes ahead of her.
"Hello? Anyone here?" Paige asked uncertainly.
The bushes continued to rustle, as if in answer.
"Uh-oh, this can't be good," Paige remarked uncomfortably.
Chris POV
Chris had been walking all over the grimy city, muttering, "How could I have failed? How could this have happened? How did Wyatt turn evil?"
He often had to dodge fireballs and bullets of the all too common drive-bys, for Wyatt had made them legal. Motorcyclists and tough looking gangs, demonic and human, were everywhere, leering at him.
"This is all my fault," he blamed himself. "I failed everyone."
Phoebe POV
"So, what do you like to do for fun?" Phoebe asked casually, trying to make conversation.
"Well, as I said before I like to ride my Harley, to me punk-rock is the way to go, play my guitar, and to tell you the truth I'm a godawful poet," Spike looked at the ground as they walked around the endless field.
Phoebe laughed, he seemed so humble about his poetry, "I doubt it."
"What?" Spike looked bewildered.
"That you're a godawful poet," Phoebe explained.
"You say that now, but if you ever really saw it...." He left his sentence unfinished. "So, what about you?"
"Well, I'm an advice columnist for the San Fransico Bay Mirror, I love cats, I have always loved punk-rock and motorcycles. God! You should have seen me in high school! I used to steal cars.....made out with anyone, which by the way earned me the nickname 'Freebe'..... I was pretty wild," Phoebe replied.
"I'll bet," Spike smirked, imagining her on a Harley.
"Well, that must have been the twentieth time we passed that bloody fire bush," Spike jammed his hands in his pockets.
"Are you sure? They all look the same to me," Phoebe looked around frantically.
"Now that you mention it, I'm not quite sure either," Spike surveyed his surroundings carefully. "I guess I was wrong."
A/N: i'll try to post more soon!
