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: October 29, 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 #5: Echoes of Pain
Author: AJ Maxwell ( webmaster@weluvduo.zzn.com
)
Heero opened the door slowly, being very careful not to make any sound that might alert his brothers. They have actually thought it would be a good idea to keep an eye on him ever since he tried to go out and look for that boy. Ch. They were so scared of facing off with those Peacecrafts that they even decided that each one of them had to have someone with him when going out of the house. He couldn't really fault them for that. He understood their enemy's strengths, and he knew their own weaknesses. It would be dangerous for them to get into an encounter at this early stage. They haven't really trained in using their gifts, and if the time comes when they have to face the Peacecrafts, it would be preferable to be at least at par with their enemy.
/But they can't keep me here like some caged animal. I have to find *him*. They don't want me to go looking for him, and they won't go with me. Might as well go out and look for him myself./
His experience was not so nice, however, since he had to spend 3 days in drifting consciousness because of the severe headache that he had. Damn shrieking, but he still had to find that boy. Upon finding him, he might also discover answers to his questions.
/I dream of him even if I'm awake. Why is this so? In some dreams it is obvious that it happened in the past, and in some it seemed as if they happened in this present time. Should I ask Quatre about this?/
He closed the varnished door again and walked very carefully, his footsteps a mere whisper on the wood, avoiding the creaking floorboards so as not to be found out. When he reached the bottom of the winding stairs, he heard noises in the kitchen where he was now sure that the other three were having a discussion.
/Good. They wouldn't know 'til much later that I've gone./
With a final look at where the voices of his brothers came from, Heero Halliwell went out for his search.
Relena Peacecraft paced her pink chambers restlessly. She stomped her foot. "I am so bored in this villa! There's nothing to do!"
The crystal chandelier above her exploded, pieces of jagged glass raining down on her in sparkling pinpricks.
Ignoring the mess and the cuts on her face, she paced again, her toe snagging occasionally on the creases of her pink carpet. /I should tell brother to change these carpets later.../ she thought absently, /...and that stupid chandelier./
The blond witch paced a few minutes more, then she heard familiar noises above her room. She scowled.
"I have nothing to do and my brother and his pet are doing it *again*! How fair is that?!" she shrieked.
The set of antique vases on her left shattered.
Stomping out of the room, a plot formed in her mind. She smiled evilly. /Maybe I should look for my own pet. I just have the perfect person in mind./
Grief-stricken violet eyes mourned for his home for the last 16 years. The church now lay in rubbles; its beautiful stone walls that had stood for more than two centuries now had fallen to the once green landscape. Everything was burned, and everything was gone. They were all dead, save for him.
/It was raining thunder and fire that day. I don't know which was more dominant, but everything was in chaos. The children were scared and Sister Helen was trying her best to calm them down. I was cleaning the chalices and the ciborium for the mass...I wasn't even sure if anyone would go to mass that day, since the weather was really nasty and Father Maxwell was also nervous about what was happening. I knew that what was happening was very unusual, but it seemed...it seemed as if something was calling me. I don't know why, or how, but I felt it.
/I felt a stirring inside me that I knew existed, even back then. I think I'd known that it existed inside me when Sister Helen taught me how to pray. I couldn't bring myself to say the words, as if there was something that bound me. There was also a part of me that *pleaded* for me to say the words--to learn what was being taught to me, and to believe it...
/I believe it, don't I? I believe what Sister Helen and Father Maxwell had instilled in me ever since I could remember. I believe it; I do. I do! I believe that--that--/
A woman's voice, a voice that he had never heard before in his entire life, but sounded truly familiar interrupted his sorrow. It beckoned to him to seek it out and know its source. It somehow felt...comforting, like family. But the loudness and the hateful sound of the screaming also annoyed him. His other side rising and getting the better of him, the Stealer of Souls once again resurfaced.
Heero Halliwell walked purposefully around the city. /Where could he possibly be? I've checked the vicinity of the grocery store and the alleys close to it, but I still have no idea where he is./
He walked a few more hours, now aimlessly, just hoping that he could catch a glimpse of the boy that haunted him. He drifted further from the heart of the city. Several minutes later, he came upon what resembled an old church building.
It was destroyed, its walls crumbled, littering the burnt patch of ground beneath it. He recognized it as the Maxwell Church in the news. /So this is what it really looks like. How come no one has come here to fix it or clean up the mess?/
He turned around, heading back for the direction he came from, when a voice halted him dead in his tracks.
"So, I see you here, in this ruined place of...'god'," the voice pronounced, tone mocking at the word 'god'.
He winced inwardly. He knew the voice. /I should have stayed home. Wufei is going to kill me when he finds out about this./
Relena Peacecraft came nearer, trying to walk seductively in her hot pink 5-inch high heels, and failed. She stumbled on a pipe that was sticking out from the rubble, twisting her ankle. She shrieked in pain, cursing and calling all the names of her ancestors that all burned in hell.
The torrent of words that the evil witch had unleashed crashed into Heero, the sheer volume and piercing quality of the Peacecraft witch's voice brought back the pounding headache that he had to sleep off for 3 days, and much more. He visibly winced as he covered his ears with his hands. /Should I freeze her? But if I do she might know that I have powers and she'll really kill me. I'm going to die without an equal fight. Trowa, hear me now, please.../
"Your cacophony is very displeasing," came a new, intimidating voice.
Heero quickly turned to find the boy he had been searching for. His heart skipped a beat.
"Who dares to insult me?" Relena growled, blue eyes flashing dangerously.
Evil burgundy eyes surveyed the pink and dark blond witch mockingly. A husky chuckle came forth. "Don't you know?"
Relena Peacecraft had seen those eyes...her brother! /But this cannot be the one. No! This...*rat* can *not* be the one! He cannot be the Stealer of Souls!/ "Why should I?" she hissed, her lips tightening into a thin line. /No one interferes with my plans!/
The smile was gone, and no trace of sardonic mirth could be seen. At this, Relena shivered, but she stubbornly, stupidly stood her ground. She failed to recognize the only person that she should be afraid of more than of her brother. As she prepared her attack, inhaling carefully and centering the air in her chest, the wind took on an almost menacing quality. Its cold fingers did not caress; it made whatever in its path shake uncontrollably. Relena shook like she had never before. She was afraid, but still stupid enough to admit it.
The Stealer of Souls was presented the opportunity to reveal that he was indeed above pride in a golden platter.
The wind blowing against them untied the simple black string that held the Stealer of Souls' chestnut brown locks, unraveling his convenient braid into a curtain of honey that whipped around him. His red stare drilled into her eyes, right through her black soul. She was already gone and she hadn't known it yet.
Meanwhile, the Halliwell witch performed the role of being the spectator in the little showdown between two of the same force. He was fascinated by the boy he had been looking for, and he was somewhat lured by the power that emanated from the boy's being. He wanted to take another step, but he knew that to do anything at that very moment would most likely cost him his life. So he waited, and as the wind blew past him, miraculously, he fell asleep.
"You puny little witch *dare* to mock my presence," the boy intoned calmly, his lips carefully forming the words. "I see with your eyes, and I see what you hold against me," he said. Raising his right arm in front of him, directly across from his chest, his eyes narrowed and burned. "No one wishes my death and lives another minute."
Huge balls of fire shot straight to the shivering mass that was Relena Peacecraft. The flames consumed her, setting her hair and her clothes afire. She screamed, but anything and everything that she did then was futile. The fire kept coming, never ceasing, and it surrounded her along with the boy's husky laughter of triumph and pleasure.
"Yes, that's it. Writhe. Scream. Die, you miserable witch. You do not deserve to be part of my banquet."
She screamed again for her brother to save her, for anyone to save her, but no one came. No one heard but her greatest adversary, and he was not yet finished.
Her body literally ablaze, she heard it first before she felt the crack of lightning course through her, but she was dying at last. She could not survive any longer, even with her almost immortal form. The Stealer of Souls' fire was too great for her to overpower.
She was losing, and it was then that the torture stopped. Or so she thought.
Body burned to nothingness, and soul stolen.
A small smile flitted over the boy's lips as he studied the new toy that he had acquired. Deciding that he did not really want it after all, his fingers tightened around it. It vanished, letting out one final scream into the eternity that it was not granted.
He was satisfied.
(end part 5)
