Disclaimers: Gundam Wing is not mine. Charmed is owned by Spelling Production Group (uh...I think, but one of its producers is Aaron Spelling, so there) , Warner Brothers, and all associated parties. Magic and Mayhem is not mine. No copyright infringement intended. I am not making money out of this. Original part of the fiction is the property and is copyrighted to the author.
Category: shounen ai/yaoi implications, AU, angst, action, dark themes
Rating: R overall
Pairings: 1x2x1, 3+4, 5xD(whoa don't hate me for this!), 6x13, 11+13, various
Warnings: language, sap, violence, death
Finished: September 4, 2000
Author's Notes: This is a GW/Charmed fusion. I got majority of the storyline from Charmed, the characters from GW, a little Magic and Mayhem, and the Island of Fire bit from history. Wufei ain't Prue, Heero ain't Piper, and Trowa ain't Phoebe, although they're kinda alike in some ways, huh?
Dedication: Thanks to my imouto Ryu, Elizabeth, Kristie, Sai-kun, and Ayako for their C&Cs and support.

/blah/ denotes thought, and telepathic conversation

*blah* denotes emphasis

~blah~ denotes dream sequence

Title: The Bewitched Chronicles, Entry #3: Love, and Other Complications
Author: AJ Maxwell ( webmaster@weluvduo.zzn.com )

The Halliwell brothers sat on the plush sofa, each with his own blanket, hot water bottle, and a bowl of soup.

Wufei sighed. "Gomen, Quatre. I was just looking out for my family's safety. I didn't mean to act that way towards you."

The blonde White Lighter smiled, comprehension in his cornflower blue eyes. "Think nothing of it, Wufei. Is the soup good?"

He nodded. "Yes, very good. Thank you."

Heero just grunted, twitching his toes that were soaked in warm water.

There was silence, and, surprisingly, it was Trowa who broke it. "I'd like to know more about...Milliard Peacecraft."

Wufei nodded, seconding his brother's statement.

"I'd like to know more, too," Heero said after a moment.

The blonde sighed, wide innocent eyes losing their usual luster. "Hai, of course. That is why I am here--"

/But if it were up to you, you'd rather not talk about it, is that right?/, Trowa regarded Quatre with his mind.

A smile flitted over Quatre's lips. "--to tell you about what you will eventually encounter, and to prepare you for it. Though I am saddened upon recounting Peacecraft's past...engagements, I must. So, where do you want me to start?"

Wufei knew his question very well. "Where can we find Milliard Peacecraft?"

The White Lighter blinked, a bit startled at the abruptness of the question, then recovered. "The Peacecraft villa is situated on top of the Hill of Shadows, within the vicinity of Shadowed Valley. Shadowed Valley, by the way, is where evil witches, warlocks, vampires--all evil creatures-- always flock to, because they feel safer there together with their own kind. The Hill of Shadows itself is the property of the Peacecrafts since time immemorial, and there they train themselves and their innumerable henchmen. At present, there are three Peacecrafts: the first one is their Clan Master, Milliard, the second one is his sister, the evil witch Relena, and the third one is the heir to the throne, who is up to now unknown and unnamed."

"Unknown and unnamed..." Heero murmured to himself.

Wufei nodded, processing Quatre's words. "This onna...Relena, isn't it? What power does she have?"

"Hai. We must know their strengths and weaknesses," Trowa agreed.

Quatre took a sip first from his teacup before answering. "Relena Peacecraft, approximately 110 to 120 years old, is, as I have just mentioned, Milliard Peacecraft's sister. Though she is the Clan Master's sister, she does not hold any authority over the Clan. The only powers that she has are, first, her voice. It is very destructive--and I mean destructive--to those who hear it. Even the softest whispers from her can elicit throbbing in a human being's hearing, and she can make her voice so loud and screechy that concrete cannot stand against her powerful voice. I have found that the villa undergoes an average of 104 repairs a year, and these are attributed only to the evil witches' voice. Her second power is that she can make her nails long and sharp like newly-sharpened knives. I believe that she is a formidable foe if she really has set her mind on fighting. Her enemies cannot touch her because of her voice, and they usually could not defend themselves once she starts screaming."

"Hn. I'm more interested in the Peacecraft's heir," Heero muttered.

The blue-eyed boy sighed. "The data that I have gathered about the Peacecraft heir is very miniscule, but still essential. I have heard that Milliard Peacecraft is the eight thousand, six hundred sixty-fifth Clan Master of the Peacecraft warlocks, which makes his heir the eight thousand, six hundred sixty-sixth Clan Master--"

"What about it?" Wufei asked, his interest piqued.

"Clan Masters that have three consecutive sixes in their order of rule as Clan Master are also called 'Stealer of Souls', because they inherit the power that can steal anyone's soul with only their will," Quatre intoned, blue eyes darkening with fear. "The Clan Master who is the Stealer of Souls has exceptional powers. If an ordinary Clan Master is the strongest of all warlocks, then the Stealer of Souls is much more powerful. Aside from being able to steal souls and feed on them, he also has other powers. I don't know about the Peacecraft heir, but I have heard of a Stealer of Souls back then, and he could easily control the minds of even the most powerful of witches."

"So does that mean that we don't stand a chance against this heir?" Trowa wondered, his green eyes concerned.

Quatre shook his head, ruffling his blond hair slightly. "No, that's not it. The Charmed Ones have a chance, but it's been a long time since the two powers have met and fought each other. In all the years, which is more powerful has never been fully tested."

"What do you mean...never been fully tested?" Trowa asked, confusion marring his features.

"One of the other must die in battle, Trowa."

A chill ran through Wufei's spine. Brushing the feeling off, he asked, one eyebrow raised, "Why are you so sure that we will face this Stealer of Souls? He's currently unknown and unnamed, as you have said, and he's missing. Is there any guarantee that he is alive and still existing up to this time?"

"He's alive, Wufei," the White Lighter whispered softly, almost to himself. "Milliard Peacecraft tried to have another heir in the past, after his son with Lucrezia Noin was taken away and was believed to be lost for good, but all his attempts failed. It could only mean that his heir is alive and well somewhere, because every Clan Master is only allowed to have one son to be the next Master. Besides," he paused, looking each of the Charmed Ones in the eye, "The Clan Master has presently scattered his most loyal and dutiful minions all over the world to search for his only son, and it won't take long for the real enemy to be unveiled."

The brothers were all struck silent for several minutes, none of them daring to move. Each of them was deep in thought, letting the full meaning of their guide's words sink into them. Finally, it was Heero who broke the quiet.

"Ninmu ryoukai. That Stealer of Souls warlock should be careful not to cross my path, or I *will* kill him."

Suddenly, there was a knock on their door. Puzzled as to who it must be, the Halliwells looked at each other quizzically, then Wufei said, "Trowa, open the door."

The green-eyed Halliwell stood up, then looked through the peephole. It was Dorothy Catalonia. /What is she doing here?/

Trowa opened the door, letting the blonde girl come inside their house.

Dorothy surveyed the scene that she had just dropped into, then smiled warmly as she saw Quatre. "Quatre! You're back!"

The equally blonde boy smiled in return. "Dorothy. What a pleasant surprise!"

The two hugged each other tightly, all the while exchanging greetings and sweet words. Clearly they had been more than friends to each other in the past, and this display made Trowa a little bit frustrated.

What's surprising was that, the eldest of the Halliwell brothers was feeling the same lines of frustration as his youngest brother, this time because of the sight of Quatre's palms over Dorothy's slim waist.

Heero, noticing his brothers' expressions, smirked. /This is going to be good.../

/What was that?/ Trowa snapped at him.

/Nothing./

There was no answer from Trowa.

"Milliard Peacecraft, huh?"

"Do you know anything about him, Dorothy?" Wufei asked.

The blond immortal smirked, then batted her eyelashes coyly at Wufei. "I know Millie-dear, Wufei, but I haven't talked to him for more than thirty years now."

His eyes widened before he stammered, "Th--thirty YEARS?!"

Dorothy giggled one of her girlish laughs, one she had practiced sometime in the 19th century, shamelessly flirting with the eldest Halliwell. "What? Women don't attract you?"

Quatre laughed at that, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement. "Doro-chan, you always know the best things to say." Then, to Wufei he said conspiratorially, "Don't listen to that old lady. Surviving hundreds of years after menopause can do that."

"Who are you calling old, Sultan Quatre Raberba Winner of 1750 A.D.?"

The White Lighter just smiled. "No need to deny things, Dorothy."

The Halliwells just looked on, speechless for some time now.

"Before I forget," Dorothy said as she rummaged in her bag, "I bought the latest [1]news disc on my way here."

Relieved that they could focus on other matters, Heero said, "Good. Let's see it. I want to know what happened to other parts of the island."

The disc played, showing various clips of burned trees and rubble in the city.

"And now for the headline: Maxwell Church Massacre," the broadcast journalist announced.

"Massacre?" Quatre gasped.

"Two hundred people died at Maxwell Church earlier this afternoon, and one was reportedly missing, during the peak of the lightning storm. The police say that they did not see any sign of struggle or blood. The tragedy roused confusion in the police department, but they say that there is one survivor, and he will be held for questioning once found. Here is what Lieutenant Hawkins has to say..."

Lieutenant Hawkins: Unusual things happen in this place, but for the whole 47 years of my life I've never seen anything like this misfortune. We shall hope that we will uncover the mystery behind this with the help of the missing orphan...

"Autopsy is currently being done on the bodies of the orphans, nuns, priests and lay ministers who were inside the church..." The voice of the newscaster droned on, but the Halliwells and their guests weren't listening anymore.

The White Lighter was clearly distressed, but when he glanced at Trowa, he felt more pain.

The beautiful emerald eyes that had so attracted him were listless; dead.


[1] news disc: I just thought that since it's 195 A.C. already, they'd be more advanced and not rely on printing press for news. Newspapers contribute considerably to pollution, so I thought by that time that people would've devised a way to lessen the pollution. ^__^


For the whole day the sky was dark, and if not for the antique clock that stood surprisingly intact, they wouldn't have known when dinner must be served.

"Mmm, that smells wonderful, Wufei," Dorothy said, complimenting him about his cooking.

Wufei felt his cheeks flushing again. "Uh...thanks."

"You know," she began, her blue eyes twinkling, "men who are good cooks are *always* a turn on."

"Really...?"

"Really," she purred in his ear.

Meanwhile...

"I'll help you with that, Trowa," Quatre said, reaching out for the stack of plates that the tall Halliwell was taking out of the cabinet.

Trowa acquiesced. "Thank you."

The two set the table in silence. After several minutes, the blond White Lighter broke the silence. "What are you thinking?" he asked.

The tall teenager didn't even look up.

Quatre sighed. He knew what the other boy was thinking. He was still disturbed about the news...about the massacre. There were video clips of the corpses, and Quatre had seen those types of corpses before.

/Eyes wide open, jaws slack...their souls were sucked out of them./

"I just can't forget the look on their faces," Trowa whispered, his green eyes distant. He was used to a normal life, if rather their surroundings bordered on the supernatural whenever uncanny things happen. Even if he really was affected by the hideous tragedy, he continued in monotone. "What could have caused such a thing to happen? It was horrible...200 people in a church..."

The White Lighter can feel the pain. It was bad enough that the Charmed Ones had to be slapped with the fact that they were witches, with the duty to protect the innocent and vanquish the guilty, that they had to be dragged out of their normal lives to live a life with such a heavy responsibility to the world. /And now they had to see their enemy's victims. I'm sure there would be more, and much, much more gruesome crimes by the warlock heir./

"What do you mean...warlock heir?" Trowa queried, eyes reflecting disbelief and...fear?

Quatre blinked. "What?" /Oh no. Why don't I shut my thoughts in?!/

The look in their White Lighter's clear blue eyes...it was then that realization hit Trowa like a baseball bat. "No..." the denial came out of his lips, sounding strangled. "No...that--can't--"

Blue eyes filled with tears of sorrow. He felt the pain of seeing wasted lives, and he was already hurting inside. He also felt Trowa's pain rather acutely. "The Stealer of Souls has decided to reveal himself to the world."

Heero closed the door of the dining room silently, where his brother and their White Lighter set up the table, and walked back to the living room.

/All those dead people...our enemy is responsible for that--that madness?/ he thought, disbelief and anger burning in his Prussian eyes. /How could we ever--?/

He was jolted out of his thoughts when an explosion took place. Shrapnel and bricks were borne into the air as Heero ducked for cover, his reflexes keeping him alive. Rocks and wood fell from above all around him.

He closed his eyes. /What could have happened? Has the enemy attacked us already? How could...?/

Suddenly there was a blow on his head, and searing pain throbbed at the back of his skull.

~The sun was shining bright, but its brightness was not glaring. It felt... somewhat peaceful, like everything was going right in the world. Heero basked in the sun's warmth, laughter bubbling forth as he relished the smell of the dewy grass beneath him.

There was another sound, too. Someone was with him, laughing as well. It sounded like music to him--no, it was more beautiful than any music that he had ever heard in his life. The laugh was husky, somewhat sweet and flirty and, yes, full of happiness. He turned around to greet the person who came near him with a smile.

The person smiled in return. It was a gentle smile, but for Heero it was stunning nonetheless. Violet eyes sparkled up at him as wisps of chestnut brown tendrils kissed the pretty heart-shaped face. He felt a delicious warmth inside him at the exquisite image before him.

"I have something for you," he said.

The violet-eyed boy grinned, and threw him a wink. "Mm-hmm? What is it this time, Hee-chan?"

A glass jar materialized in his hands, and confined inside was a vibrant butterfly, fluttering restlessly against the clear walls of its prison.

"Hee-chan, this is beautiful!" the boy gasped. There was awe and appreciation in those violet depths, but Heero could read those eyes better than anything. "But?"

The boy grasped the jar reverently. "But it shouldn't be imprisoned like this, Hee-chan. It has to fly and make the world more wonderful with its presence."

"Aa. Like our love."

"Yes. Exactly."

"But it would die out there...the world is so big and--"

"It would still die anyway."

Heero shook his head. "Not like our love."

Violet eyes looked away. Then, the terrible doubt was voiced, "Are you sure about that, Hee-chan? As you've said, the world is so big and--"

"Iie," he gritted out, his cobalt blue eyes blazing in their intensity. "Don't think like that. Our love is forever. Forever. Do you understand?"

There were tears. /No. Don't cry, D--/ "Heero I don't think--"

"No. We *will* get past this. We'll just have to. I can't give you up--"

"Even if...?" there was a sliver of hope in those beautiful amethyst eyes of his lover.

"Yes. Even if--"

Suddenly the sun's comforting rays were gone, replaced by a glaring red orb in the sky, seemingly soaked with blood. Heero's eyes widened as black clouds swirled in the crimson sky. He felt a sudden chill in his bones.

/What's happening?/

The perfect world that they were in was shattered, and was blown to the putrid air by the mocking laugh that cut through his senses. He turned, and there, standing with him in the once-green knoll, was his violet-eyed lover, staring at him with evil eyes of ruby.

"Even if I damn your soul into the deepest pit of hell?"

The jar fell out of his hands, and as the glass dropped on the dead earth, the lid came off, setting the butterfly free to roam.~

Heero woke up, sweating and panting as he came out of his dream state. /What was that all about? What--?/

"Heero. Don't move or you're going to pull the stitches," Wufei informed him.

He breathed deeply, feeling the throbbing in his head. "What happened?" he rasped.

There was silence for a time, then Trowa answered, "A mass of rock fell on your head a while earlier."

"What do you remember, Heero?" This time, it was Quatre. "The fireplace is in rubbles right now...well, in much more of a rubble now since it's blown up pretty badly."

"And burning coal rained in the living room, too. It was an exciting show, actually. I've never seen anything like it in years," Dorothy quipped.

"Onna," Wufei growled. "Urusai."

Dorothy just winked at him flirtatiously.

"How did...?"

"Well, Heero," Quatre began. "We think you blew up the fireplace."

"Kuso..."

It was so cold...

The teenager quivered in the streets as the snow kept on falling. He knew it wasn't supposed to snow at this time of the year, but these unusual things usually happen in Isla del Fuego--and he knew this very well. How many times had he been caught in piercing hailstorms during his earlier childhood? Countless of times he had been kept out of a shelter, opting for the minimal comfort of the dumps where bums and street brats died every single day. He had always known hunger, dirt, and lack of warmth...

/But not until they took me into their wing and treated me as their own./

He was so lost. /How could this have happened? How could the church be defiled that way?/ He was raging inside himself, and he wished to crush the throat of whoever dared to lay a hand on the children, on Father Maxwell and Sister Helen...

/I'm going to crush that bastard's throat under my heel, and that still wouldn't be enough for destroying my home./

Treize woke up with a start.

/My sons...Heero...Trowa.......no./

His azure eyes which were always calm, were now disturbed with fear and guilt.

/What have I done? They couldn't possibly be...no. Une would have told me if she knew...if she knew that they're--/

The old oak door opened, revealing his platinum-haired lover. "Treize? Come on dinner's ready. The servants prepared your favorite dish."

The ginger-haired man just nodded, trying desperately to calm his nerves. /Zechs mustn't know. He mustn't...or he will hunt my sons down and--/

"Treize?" Zechs came nearer, worry evident in his aquamarine eyes. "Is there something wrong, love?"

He just shook his head and opted for a lazy smile. "Nothing, Milli-koi," he teased.

That seemed to pacify the warlock master. "I have good news," Milli-koi said instead, pale eyes glinting an eerie burgundy for a second. "I think I'm getting closer to finding my son."

(end part 3. C&C please!)