Blue and white lights swirled into the foyer of the Victorian house, forming into a handsome young man. His brown hair was in need of a cut or trimming, the green eyes held worry inside as he started towards the stairs. Something shimmered in behind him with a deep, rumbling growl. He turned around to face it, eyes growing wide at the sight of what was before him.
The demon was all fangs, claws and teeth, standing slightly hunched on its legs. Even so, it was well over seven feet in height. Yellow feral eyes sighted the young Whitelighter before it. It let out an angry snarl, leaping at the Whitelighter, intending to rip him apart, reveling in tasting the flesh and blood.
Christopher Halliwell was not only born as a Whitelighter but also a Charmed One's son as well. He had not been brought up by his family to turn tail and flee in demon attacks. Even though his heart was pounding rapidly in his chest, he stood his ground, bringing up one hand, throwing the demon back with his telekinesis. It crashed into the front door, shattering the stained glass.
"Mom is so going to kill you, if I haven't," muttered Chris, surveying the damage. His mother was not going to be happy.
The demon shook its head, getting up. It looked angry enough to kill, which was its intention. It formed a fireball, throwing it at the witch. Chris quickly orbed out of harm's way, into the sitting room, ducking behind the couch.
"Wyatt!" he called out, knowing his older brother could hear him loud and clear. He needed more than the Power of One for this job. "A little help here!" Chris peeked out from behind the couch, ducking down again as the fireball flew over his head, breaking the windows. He had taken on more than he can chew. He frantically scanned the area for a weapon to use while keeping low.
Using telekinetic orbing – a power as a result of him being half Whitelighte and half witch – he called for the poker, motioned it towards the demon, stabbing it in the shoulder. It bellowed in pain and anger, staggering back slightly. Chris jumped up from his hiding place, quickly gestured at the demon. The power he got from his mother -- molecular combustion -- clipped the demon in the chest. It was not enough to vanquish it. Already in pain, it was now in a frenzied rage as it tore the poker from its shoulder, throwing it at the witch like a javelin.
Chris deflected it at the direction of the grandfather clock. He cringed at the sound and imagined the look on his mother's face when she saw. The demon leaping over the furniture to get at him snapped him back to reality as he orbed away into the conservatory. There was a loud crash coming from the sitting room, a sign the demon had ran into something or broke something then silence.
Silence in the manor was never a good thing. Chris stepped back, head turning left and right, trying to sense where the demon was now. He exhaled loudly, taking a step forward, his back to the stained windows. A shadow rose from the ground, looming over him. He stopped, staring at the large colored shadow that swallowed his own. The stained glass windows played different colors of light on the floor from the morning sun. He started to orb out when the glass shattered, raining colored shards around him like jewels, a heavy form colliding with his slight frame, forcing him into solid form, and bringing them both to the ground. Claws raked down his leg, bringing blood, eliciting a cry from him.
The demon roared, claws slashing down, trying to get at the witch under it. Chris could feel the foul stench from its breath. Panic coursed through him at being pinned down. He had an unpleasant experience being pinned by a demon when he had been four. He pushed both hands up against the demon, throwing it off him telekinetically. It smashed into the furniture, laying in a dazed heap. Chris managed to get up, despite the throbbing ache in his left leg. He reached out, grabbed the demon by its neck with both hands with telekinesis, lifted it a few inches above the floor and hurled it across the room where it crashed into more furniture.
"Wyatt! Get your bloody self here now!" Chris yelled, as the demon stirred, getting up unsteadily. "Wyatt!"
A fireball flew towards him. Chris threw up his hands, freezing it in midair then sending it back at the demon, catching it on the wounded shoulder. It let out a deafening roar, losing all sense, charged at the witch, determined to rip him to shreds. The eyes glowed a mad rage in them as it speeded towards him. Chris motioned with his hand, sweeping the demon's feet out from under it. It skidded across the floor uncontrollably towards him. He levitated out of the way and back down again to see the demon knocking over the table, sending the vase of flowers to the floor.
Familiar blue and white lights appeared into the room, fading away to reveal Wyatt Halliwell. The older young man's blond locks were slightly mussed, there was even a smear of lipstick mark on his neck. The blue eyes were filled with annoyance at being interrupted at his date. "What is it?" he demanded. "And can't it wait until I get home?"
"If it could wait, the manor would be in shambles," Chris snipped, gesturing at a direction.
"Witches!" came a deep, guttural sound. The demon rose up to its height, looking incredibly furious, saliva dripping from its jaw. "Wretched witches! I'll tear you from limb to limb for the troubles you caused me."
"What the hell is that?" Wyatt stared in disbelief at it.
"Who cares!" snapped Chris. "Just vanquish it already!"
The demon took a flying leap straight at the two of them. Chris immediately threw up his hands. As if someone had taken a remote and pressed the slow motion button, the demon's movements through the air seemed to have been slowed. Wyatt could see the fur rippling, the saliva trailing from the open jaw, the muscles coiling and uncoiling. It would have a been a breathtaking picture if it weren't going to kill them.
Wyatt launched a high voltage energy ball at the demon's direction. It's eyes grew wide when it saw the crackling blue ball headed towards it, and tried to move away. Panic came to its face when it realized its movements had somehow been slowed and it was not going to be able to avoid the inevitable.
The energy ball impacted, and suddenly the demon was thrown back, its head snapping to one side in normal speed again. Like someone had released the slow motion button. It fell to its side on the floor, twitching, fatally wounded. The energy ball had struck it on its chest, right where the heart was. Wyatt stepped up to its, formed another energy ball and dropped it on the demon, putting it out of its misery. It vanquished in flames, leaving a burnt mark on the hardwood floor.
"Mom is going to have a cow," he remarked, scuffing the spot with his shoe.
Chris grunted in reply, limping over to the only chair left standing, miraculously. He sat down heavily on it. "Like I don't know about it."
Wyatt wiped the lipstick mark on his neck away, smoothing his hair in place. "Did you not read about that particular demon before you took on it?" he asked, feeling annoyed now the adrenaline had worn off.
"I didn't think it was that hard to kill." Chris shrugged. He gingerly pulled up his pant leg to reveal the wound by the clawing. It was deep and bleeding again. "Ouch."
"You're hurt," said Wyatt, coming over to stand next to him.
"Thank you, Captain Obvious." The older Halliwell shook his head at his brother's tone. Trust Chris to inherit their mother's short temper and sarcasm.
"You know what, why don't I just go and leave you to clean this all up yourself?" Wyatt huffed.
"Let the object of objection be but dream;
as I caused the seen to become unseen."
Golden lights twinkled into the rooms, swirling around and faded away, leaving the rooms all in their original no fuss state of cleanliness. Wyatt rolled his eyes, wishing his Aunt Paige had never taught him that spell. He knelt by his brother, holding out a hand, letting the warm light heal the wound.
Agatha Cornwell made her living by telling fortunes. It doesn't bring much money in but it was a life she enjoyed. Tarot cards, palm reading, tea leaves, and the infamous crystal ball. Often, there would be a gaggle of tourists who came to San Francisco and would drop by her old Victorian home for some reading done. Most would believe her but there are times they don't believe her, especially if she told them news of ill tidings. No one likes bad news.
Today after the last flock of tourists had left with some news of their future, Aggie had shuffled back to her fortune telling room as she called it. There were drapes of vivid colors hung from the ceilings, candles lit up the room, giving it a somewhat gloomy look. A crystal ball sat on the shelf behind the round table. Her tea leaves lay unused today in their boxes. She had done palm reading instead. The tarot cards lay on the table which was decorated with a single lamp. She often dressed the part, in scarves and floral skirts with jangling gold bangles and rings.
She heard a loud sound coming from across the street. It was the red Victorian manor where the odd family lives. She knew them by names, having heard it often enough. The eldest sister was married with two boys. The other sister still stayed at the manor while the youngest had left the roost months ago. The husband, a handsome strapping man with flaxen hair, comes and goes as he pleases. Aggie sniffed in disdain. The family was strange, often scurrying about until late at night, sometimes with a lot of stranger noises coming from the house. The other neighbors didn't mind them, having shrug them off as eccentric. Old Aggie was suspicious of their activities.
She shuffled her tarot cards, deciding to read the family's fortunes on a whim. Good karma always seem to radiate from them. She lay the cards face down on the table, letting the feel guide her, picking one up. She turned it over and gasped, staring at it.
It was the picture of the Grim Reaper. DEATH was written in blood red below the illustration.
The sound of a car coming to a stop across the street caught her attention. She got up, hurrying to the window, pushing aside the drapes to see the forest green Jeep parked in the driveway and a woman climbing out. It was the eldest sister, Piper. She was unpacking the groceries from the back of the Jeep.
Still clutching the card, Aggie quickly hurried out of her house, making her way across the street towards Piper with determination.
"Piper Halliwell! Ms Halliwell!" she called out as she approached.
Piper swung around, one arm balancing the groceries, the other her bag and keys. Of the three sisters, this one exudes a confident beauty that the two cannot compare. There were no streaks of grey in her hair yet, the mane pulled into a ponytail. Her brown eyes were still bright and sharp for her age, and her tongue sharper. This was a woman to be reckon with, Aggie realized, one does not mess with her.
"Yes? And you are?"
"Aggie. I live across your house." Aggie could see the curiosity in the woman's eyes as well as slight impatience. A regular spitfire, this one was. "I did a reading on your family just now, Ms Halliwell. It does not look that bright for you."
"As fascinating as it sounds, I really need to get inside so..." Piper began, shifting the groceries.
"Listen to me, Ms Halliwell! Your family is in grave danger." Aggie saw her eye roll at that, pushed down her own impatience. The woman was stubborn. "I did a reading today and it showed death in your family. This is proof that someone in your family will die." She thrust the tarot card into Piper's face.
The younger woman squinted in surprise then backed away a step, annoyance clear on her face now. "Listen, Aggie, is it? My family is very... unusual, all right? We've faced a lot worse than this."
"You should heed the warning, Piper Halliwell. Death will come for your family." Aggie wanted to the woman to take her warning seriously but she could the doubt in those brown eyes. "I am not crazy! My reading is never wrong! Something will happen!"
Piper was now uneasy that a raving woman had somehow cornered her and began babbling about some ill misfortune on her family. "I think that I can take care of my family, Aggie," she said to her politely. "Thanks for your warning."
"You're not taking it seriously, Ms Halliwell," Aggie said, staring hard at the woman. "You think I'm a raving lunatic. Let me tell you, this is serious. Death will come for anyone of you. Maybe even your sons."
Piper stiffened at the mention of her sons. She turned towards Aggie with a furious expression, and the old fortune teller knew she had hit a sore spot. "You stay away from my boys, you hear me?" she hissed. "Nothing will happen to my boys, if it did, I will personally look for you."
Aggie fell silent, watching as Piper turned away, marching right up to the house, shoulders tensed. She look back down at the card then crossed back to her own side of the street, going back into her house. She had a feeling the Halliwells will get what was coming to them.
Piper was furious. The old woman! Who did she think she was? She sniffed, dumping the bag on the table, trying to calm down. Crazy old woman, sprouting nonsense. She placed her palms flat on the table, pushing back the memories of eighteen years back. Of a special someone who came back into the past, sacrificing everything to save his brother. All for the greater good. There was not a day that past by she didn't worry about his future.
"Mom?"
She wiped her eyes hastily, turning around to see her youngest son looking at her worriedly. "You're upset about something," he stated simply.
"Oh, just something someone said to me," she said airily, brushing it off. "It's nothing."
Chris still looked doubtful but he seemed to accept her answer.
"Help me with the groceries?" she asked.
"Groceries!" Chris gestured, orbing the remaining bags into the house, onto the table. Using telekinesis, he shut the door to the Jeep and the front door.
"You'd better hope no one saw, Christopher," she said, using his full name to show she was annoyed with him, though her eyes were twinkling.
"I don't think they did." Chris followed her into the kitchen. "If they did, they'll think it's just a trick of light."
"Where's Wyatt?" Piper began putting away the groceries.
"Right here." Wyatt had orbed in with flourish, a huge grin on his face. "What did you get, Mom?" He began digging through the bags, looking for something. It was habit of his since childhood, to go through every bag for some treats. Piper and Leo couldn't seem to break him out of it, and let him.
"Peanut butter, Pop Tarts, cereal, milk, tomatoes, celery..." Wyatt rummaged in the bags.
"Help me put them away if you're going to dig through everything." Piper smacked him on the arm lightly.
Wyatt let out a huge exaggerated sigh, gestured and everything flew into their respective places, cabinet doors opening and closing as cans, bottles, jars flew to their places. In a matter of minutes, it was all done. Piper didn't know whether to be mad or amused. She had often imposed on them the no magic rule in doing household chores, wanting them to live a magic free life as possible.
"Wyatt Matthew!" she scolded but her mouth was twitching.
Wyatt shrugged. "Aunt Paige says to practice your craft."
"Well, let it be known that Aunt Paige isn't here now and she's overzealous in using magic. Look at what happened to her and Aunt Phoebe?" Piper eyed them. She had told them enough stories of their aunts' carelessness in using magic for personal gain, and having it backfire on them enough times.
"Aunt Phoebe had her powers stripped away and Aunt Paige learnt the lessons the hard way," Chris said. "We know, Mom, no personal gain magic."
"It always backfires in your face, remember that." Piper ruffled his hair affectionately. "Our family has a history of magic always rebounding back to us. I don't need you both to suffer for it."
"Right, like Richard." Wyatt had a smirk on his face, recalling Aunt Paige's ex-beau. They had an on and off relationship which was right now, more on than off. "Messing around with magic and finally getting his powers bound."
"She should dump him," Chris said dispassionately. He never got a good vibe from the man, often getting negative readings from him.
"Chris!" Piper scowled at her son.
"It's true," he insisted. "He doesn't like her doing magic. I can read him not liking it even though he tells Aunt Paige he doesn't mind."
"Who should dump who?" It Phoebe, coming into the kitchen. "Hey, my two favorite guys in the world. A hug for you and you." She squeezed them both, adding to Wyatt's embarrassment by pinching his cheek, forgetting he wasn't the adorable baby anymore. Chris sidestepped her advances, ducking behind his mother for protection, smirking at his older brother's discomfort.
"Aunt Paige should dump Richard," Wyatt supplied, rubbing his cheek ruefully.
Phoebe opened her mouth as if to add her two cents in but closed them again when she saw Piper shaking her head and frowning. "Wyatt, Aunt Paige is old enough to decide who she wants to be with. If she wants to stay with Richard, goody for her."
"I'd rather stay with someone who allows me to practice magic," Chris piped up, orbing an apple into his hand.
"Sweetie, you're only seventeen. At that age, you think people should do what you want." Phoebe reached over the counter, ruffling his hair.
"I'll be eighteen in a few weeks." Chris jutted out his lower lip. "And I'm not a kid. I just vanquished an upper level hairy demon, with Wyatt's help." His eyes grew wide when he realized his mistake at the frantic shaking of Wyatt's head and Aunt Phoebe's face. Oops.
"You vanquished an upper level demon in the house?" Piper's expression darkened at the slipup. "Christopher Perry! You could have been hurt or worse. And you!" She rounded on Wyatt who held up his hands hurriedly, backing away a step. "Why didn't you stop him?"
Wyatt's mouth opened and closed like a goldfish gulping for air as he frantically tried to answer his infuriated mother while avoiding being combusted or worse. Piper scowled at them, facing the ringleader of the Stooges, namely, one Phoebe Halliwell.
"Phoebe, I know you had something to do with it." Piper's tone was deceptively calm as her face grew serene.
Phoebe was caught like a rat. One look to her nephews offered no help. Wyatt looked ready to orb out at any moment rather than facing his mother's wrath. Chris was staring in fascination at the apple in his hand as if he'd never seen it in his entire life. Oh, yes, no help there from either one. She was saved from answering when someone orbed into the kitchen.
The lights faded into Leo in his street wear instead of the Elder's robes. The other Elders, after much heated debate, had decided to grant him the status of being an earthbound Elder unless he was jingled by them for an important meeting Up There. It had taken much deliberation for them to decide what to do with him, after the news of Gideon's death reached them. Leo had thanked his lucky stars they allowed him to remain as an Elder, and not send down to be recycled or worse.
"Piper." Leo greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. She responded by pushing him back, a frown marring her features. He stood back with a confused look at her, then glanced at the trio hovering near the door. From the guilt ridden faces, he guessed they must have done something to pissed her off.
"I take it now is not a good time."
"My sister nearly got my kids killed all because she decides to get them to vanquish some upper level demon without my knowing," Piper growled out.
"But they're fine, right? No broken bones or gouged out eyes." Leo saw the ire in her eyes, and hastily soothed her. "Now, Piper, they're fine." He turned to them, face stern but his eyes were twinkling at them, letting them know he wasn't as angry as their mother. "Boys, next time, leave the vanquish to the sisters, all right? You're both grounded," he added, as an afterthought.
"I can't be grounded!" Wyatt spluttered indignantly. "I'm twenty years old!"
"You should have thought of that before, little man," Leo said.
Chris chuckled but fell silent when their mother rounded on him, quickly lowering his eyes, the dark lashes hiding his mirth. Piper shook her head at her youngest in a resigned manner. What she would give to have him as the helpless little baby again. Wait, scratch that. As a baby, he wasn't totally helpless at all but more of a handful, prone to magical tantrums. His brown hair, complexion and temperament were all taken from her. Only his height was from Leo. Whereas Wyatt seemed to inherit everything from Leo, from the color of his hair to his eyes to his complexion and height; even the passive Whitelighter trait of 'talk first then fight' as Piper liked to call it. Chris was more of the aggressor, jumping headlong into danger, seeming to love the adrenaline that comes with it. It was a wonder he hadn't give her any grey hair yet.
"Dad!" Wyatt whined. "Aunt Phoebe? You wouldn't want your favorite nephew to be grounded, right?" He turned huge, limpid eyes at her.
"You know, mister, that worked when you were an adorable five year old," Phoebe said. "And it's still working... Piper, a little help."
Piper bit her lower lip to keep from laughing. She put on a stern expression on her face. "Don't torture your aunt so, Wyatt. Scat, both of you, out of my kitchen. Before I changed my mind and ground you both till you're seventy."
TBC...