One More Time - Chapter 9
by shjohnso.
Summary: Future Chris risked his life to save his brother from a fate worse than death—evil. But did it work? Or will he have to do it all over again? This is my take on the events that followed his birth.
Rated PG
Disclaimer—I don't own charmed, or any of the characters from the show, so don't sue me because I get no money from this.
In the warehouse…
The missing toddler watched intently as the strange man prepared a potion that bubbled out of the cauldron, mere feet from him. He blinked furiously to destroy the man, but nothing seemed to work. 'Where was Daddy?' Wyatt thought. 'Daddy could do it. Daddy would protect him from the evil man.' He tried to hide in the shadows, away from the man towering over him…
In another time…Wyatt winced at a sudden sharp pain in his left hand. He lifted it up to examine it closely, his eyes widening in surprise as he found the cause. It was difficult to see, but sure enough, there was a tiny red marking—a tattoo of some sort—marring what had been only moments ago a neutral flesh tone. It appeared to be a letter, but he couldn't quite decipher which one out of the 26 possibilities on the stretched skin.
He frowned in both irritation and worry, wondering if the Resistance had somehow gotten a hold of some his more unique technology to overthrow him somehow.
Lowering his hand, he nodded absently when one of his minions mentally requested permission to enter. At the lack of response, he huffed a moment later as he realized that they couldn't see his affirmation and mentally replied back.
Wyatt barely acknowledged the servants who had shimmered in eagerly holding up a digital camcorder for his inspection. "This appeared through a portal in the museum, Master. It is very old technology. We couldn't figure out how to work it."
He vaguely recalled one of his aunts having such a device, and Wyatt quickly dismissed his minions as he examined the camera closely before turning it on. From its mint condition, he knew that it was most likely directly from the past, or preserved very well. But the latter option was unlikely, given that he had forbidden anything that could be used to generate or distribute insurgence against him.
He growled as he watched the screen show his former second-in-command, Renat, who had disappeared without warning recently. He had written him off as a lost cause to the Resistance and quickly replaced him in the interim. But now he knew better. 'So that's where he went.'
"Sorry about the primitive method of recording, old friend. But here in this ancient past, it's all that's available. Just in case you hadn't gotten your memories yet, I wanted to prove to you that I do have--well, you."
Renat turned the camera to face a young, wide-eyed toddler, who grumpily sat cross-legged in the corner. Facing the camera again, Renat spoke, "You certainly were an adorable little child. Whatever happened?" he bellowed at his own joke. Settling down, he continued to speak into the camera, "Anyway, on to my demands--I'm quite tired of being under your thumb. I don't want much. I simply wish to have your empire. And I shall have it, or I will kill you while you are still a defenseless little brat. You are to return through the portal, along with--hmm, let's say 50--of the west legion hunter units. And give yourselves up. I will spare both of your lives (you and the brat of course) if you remain here--under my command as I build my empire. If you don't do as I ask--I will not stop with you. I will kill every last Halliwell in existence--including that time-surfing little brat you call a sibling. You have two hours to comply. I have also included a watch in my little care package that should be ticking away. I found a way to magically synchronize it with my watch here--so I'll know if you disobey my orders. Hope to see you soon, Wyatt.
And one more thing--in case you were in any doubt-- I've borrowed one of your wonderful little inventions. You remember the demonic brand that you had placed on all under your service? Your family crest, I believe it was. If memory serves me correctly, I believe it was the one that would allow you to track the movements of all of your faithful servants--and punish them if they weren't so--faithful? Well, I've modified it to suit my needs--with my crest. Hold up your left palm underneath one of the probes scanners." He let the camera run long enough for the intended viewer to do as suggested before leaning in for one final message. With a feral grin, he taunted in a close up, "You belong to me now."
With a flick of his wrist, Wyatt angrily switched off the camera. Just to be certain, he held his hand under one of the probes he had created, grimacing as the digital readout confirmed Renat's tracer deep under his skin.
He paced in annoyance. He was smart. He could find a way to counteract the tracer, even though he himself designed it to have none. But he cursed inwardly, knowing that there was nothing he could do with it from here. He had to go back to the source of the problem. And that meant a trip to the past where Renat was waiting. He summoned the demanded Hunter Units and ordered them to the manor, knowing full well that if he should go alone—Renat wouldn't hesitate to kill his two-year-old self.
But for now, he could bide his time patiently until he could eliminate his problem commander. Painfully if he had his say in the matter. He watched as the last of his Hunter Units marched their way through the awaiting portal. He took one last look around, his wheels already spinning before finally stepping through himself. No one beat Wyatt Halliwell at his own game.
Chris had nearly reached the door to the attic with his family in tow when they felt the house vibrate. He held his arms out to keep them back.
"What the hell was that?" Piper groaned in irritation as the hall continually shook.
"An earthquake?" Leo suggested.
"Marching ants?" Paige offered helpfully, earning her raised eyebrows and annoyed glances all around. "Ok. Lots of marching ants…"
"It's coming from the attic," Chris whispered in a hushed voice. Creeping slowly closer, Chris led the small group to peek inside.
Everyone gasped at the dozens of brutish looking figures crowded in the attic, all bowing down toward a glowing portal. Eyes widening fearfully, Chris turned around and quickly herded his family back down the stairs. "Go! Go! Go!" he commanded forcefully, leaving no room for debate.
As soon as they reached the bottom of the stairs, he directed Paige to orb half of the group and they headed for Sheila and Darrel's house.
"What the hell was that?" Darrel yelled in a panic.
"Hunter units!" Chris murmured dazedly before he ran his hands through his hair in frustration. At the confused looks he got from everyone, he elaborated. "They're demons made out of Wyatt's own special little brew to hunt down members of the resistance—either exterminating them or securing their allegiance. Each one is different, with a combination of 4 to 5 different demonic genes. Meaning that they all have different powers, making them unpredictable and extremely difficult to kill. You vanquish one part of it, but you still don't know what the rest is made out of. There is no 'one potion or spell fits all' for those things."
Leo's eyes darted around worriedly, his military training having taught him to quickly assess the situation. "There had to be dozens of them back there."
Chris agreed, "An entire squad, it looked like. Probably about four-dozen or so. The good part is—none of them noticed us. The bad part—none of them noticed us."
Piper threw her hands on her hips, her son's cryptic reply further adding to her irritation. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"They were bowing on one knee. They don't do that. Not unless they are awaiting direct instructions from their leader. And the portal was still open." Chris looked around seriously, waiting for them to get his meaning. "And there's only one person they do that for…"
Leo understood immediately, voicing his concerns. "Wyatt."
"Yes. He's here. And if he sent those things—nearly an entire unit, Wyatt means business. It means things just got a whole lot more complicated."
Back at the warehouse…
Renat sighed gratefully now that the little whelp had stopped crying. He almost couldn't believe that the calm and emotionless Twice-Blessed-Witch had ever been so whiny, yet here he stood as a toddler, crying himself to sleep after he had marked him with the tracer. He despised all of the power that was contained in that tiny body. Well, maybe not despised—more like coveted. And soon, he would have all of the power the boy possessed at his fingertips to command at will. Smiling gleefully in anticipation, he could almost taste it.
A sudden, loud clamoring at the door made Renat turn and groan in exasperation. He hissed at the creature making so much noise, "Be quiet you imbecile! I finally got the brat to shut up!" His eyes widened as he saw what was tucked under its arms. Having already passed out from fright, Robbie bounced in the creature's arms limply. "Why did you bring him here? Now they'll be more likely to find us quicker, and we don't have time for this. Take him back."
The creature growled at him slightly as it shook its head stubbornly, wanting to keep its new prize.
He waved his hands dismissively, "Fine. Just take him and get out of my sight. And guard the Halliwell boy while you're at it." Renat grimaced at the creature stalking off into one of the corners, not even a mere shadow of the man it once was. The distraught former husband and father had been so depressed after Wyatt had murdered his family while he dared oppose him, but it had definitely proven beneficial to feed on that hate and anger the man held toward their leader. The potion that had made the man into that vile creature had only intensified through his desperate need for retribution against Wyatt Halliwell.
Renat had thought bringing him along would be useful, and it had so far. He may never have been able to get past the Charmed Ones without the use of the creature's invisibility and brute strength. But with the kidnapping of the other child, it only expedited matters. The Charmed Ones would have researched, gathered potions, and spells--armed themselves to the hilt before they charged in for a rescue of the toddler. However, the police detective would bring his mortal beliefs into the situation and push them into searching for their missing children much faster than they would have done in their own magical world. Bringing them to his doorstep much sooner than he had planned.
He glanced at his watch ruefully, hoping that his demands would be met long before the witches arrived. Stroking his chin thoughtfully, he briefly considered eliminating the new boy and dumping him somewhere, but then the creature would only turn on him in a fit of rage as he had with Wyatt in the future.
Creature or no creature, after all, Robbie was still his son.
TBC…