Disclaimer: I don't own Charmed or have anything to do with it, I just wrote this story.
Walking down stairs was something he had been doing since he was two years old, or at least so he imagined. But on this morning, it seemed like the hardest, most complicated and most forced thing he had ever done.
Reaching the bottom was not something he wanted to achieve, but it was something he had to. Every morning, from this day on, he had to reach the bottom of this particular set of stairs because it was what was expected of him, but more importantly, needed of him. His brother's, two people who he would change the world for, and his dad, a man who was just about to fall apart, needed him to reach the bottom of those stairs and be able to walk through the hall with purpose and no hesitation, because if he didn't they would not be able to.
So he walked down the stairs and when he reached the bottom he did not even glance to his right, he walked through the hallway as if the part of the house to his right did not exist. If he looked at it, even out of the corner of his eye, he knew his whole demeanor would change, he knew the rage he was working so hard to suppress would spill forth.
Even though he did not look at it he could still see what was on his right. He could not see it exactly as it was at that moment but it exactly as it was the week before, last Friday. He could see the broken furniture, the shattered glass. He could see the flowers, lilies his dad had bought his mom, dripping down the wall. He could see his brother, Chris, bent over their mother's body, tears dripping down his cheek and landing on their mother's peaceful, dead face. He could see that brother look up at him as he heard the flowers he himself had thrown against the wall smash, his green eyes boring into the angry blue ones he wore, reflecting only hopelessness. And then his other brother, Shawn, look up at him after finally tearing his dark eyes from their mother, fear etched into every feature of his young face, asking him to make it better, expecting him to be able to do so.
And then his dad, Owen, walking through the door, talking loudly to whoever might be in the house. He could still see him appearing on the scene, tie hooked in his mouth as he tried to take it off without properly undoing it, briefcase in hand and happiness raiding his features as he thought of the weekend of celebrations that was ahead. And then the change, his dad's eyes landing upon the woman he loved so dearly. His demeanor had shifted instantaneously. In that second he had become old, and as Wyatt walked into the kitchen that morning, the morning of his mothers funeral, he noticed that his dad was still old.
He could remember been a little boy and his mother telling Chris and he that the thing she loved most about their new friend Owen was how he always seemed so young, so carefree, and the way he made her feel like that as well, like she was a little girl again, in love for the first time. She had loved his goofiness and the light that goofy youthfulness brought to everything it touched. Today, Wyatt observed, there was none of that man inside of his dad, there was only an old man who had lost his love.
"Morning," he mumbled as he sat down at the kitchen table.
The other occupants of the room, his dad and both his aunts, barely acknowledged his presence. It didn't surprise him. Everyone was too caught up in his or her own grief. Ever since that Friday the week before no one had noticed much of anyone else. No one had even noticed when he had let the rage that was now constantly bubbling away inside of him take over. It happened on that Friday night, right after his dad had appeared on the scene. He had orbed out of the manor and appeared in the underworld, and his anger had been unleashed. He had no idea how many demons he had vanquished that night, but needless to say, any that crossed his path had been turned to dust.
He had come out bloody and worn, but he hadn't finished. Instead of going home he had orbed to the bridge, hoping to find his brother, but instead he had found a broken down father. He had orbed out before been seen, this time to a room in magic school and had wrecked havoc in there. By the time he had returned home the room had been destroyed.
Right at that moment he could feel the monster inside of him growl, yearning for release, but he couldn't let it out, at least not today. Today was the day for remembrance, the day to remember and bury his mother.
Arriving at the cemetery that morning and walking into the room where the service was to take place became something that was harder then walking down the stairs that morning had been, but he did it.
The church was full of so many people, some he knew, many he did not. His family surrounded him as they listened to the female minister perform the service. A brother sat on each of his sides, each clasping one of his hands. Shawn had his head buried in his side, seeking protection from his big brother. Wyatt felt horrible for him, he was only seven years old, he could barley understand the idea of death and he had lost his mother to it. Chris was trying to stay strong but his resolve was buckling as the time ticked away. Their dad at one stage got up and spoke. He spoke through the tears that cascaded down his face and continued to speak when he was sure nobody could understand him, because that is what he felt he owed to his wife. Wyatt missed most of what he said but heard the last few lines.
"We will continue to live because that is what she would have wanted. Our lives will go on because she would have expected us to be just as stubborn as she was. The world will keep going, I will keep living, raising her three beautiful sons, but I will never forget that beautiful angel I met one summers day long ago in a park."
As the service continued his mind drifted away from the time and place he was in and back to a time that seemed centuries before.
He was running, so fast, like he had never run before. He was six, he was at the beach, and he was having a good time. Looking over his shoulder he could see his four year old brother wasn't far behind. A split second later he was on the ground, face planted in the sand.
"I got you Wy'! I got you!" yelled Chris as he jumped on Wyatt's back.
Wyatt looked to his feet and saw the stick that he had tripped over and then he saw the scratch on his leg that that stick had caused. Yelping he jumped to his feet, in the process throwing Chris to the ground, and ran to where his mom was sitting with her new friend Owen.
"Mommy, mommy," he yelled. "Look what happened to my leg!"
"Oh sweetie, it's not that bad," she said while softly rubbing the area.
"But it hurts mommy, can't you wave your magic hand and make it all better?" he whined.
"Oh Wyatt, I don't have a magic hand," she said softly while bringing her head in close to his. "But I do have magic lips." She then whipped her head over to his leg and kissed it over and over again.
Loud giggles burst forth from Wyatt's mouth.
"Oh you see, it can't be that bad if you're laughing now can it," said his mother with a smile.
"Mommy I think you are crazy," stated Wyatt with a small giggle.
"I'm not crazy sweetie, I just know how to make you laugh."
And it was with that memory that the fifteen-year-old Wyatt finally broke down and cried at his mother's funeral, at the same time making a promise within himself that he would stop this from ever happening again. For the first time in his life he was letting the rage take over and he was going to use it, he was going to do great things with it. He was Wyatt Matthew Halliwell-Johnson, the twice blessed child, he could make the world do what ever he wanted and he was going to change it for the two people who were sitting beside him, he would never let them get hurt like this again. It was time he used his powers for what they could be.
Sitting in the seats behind Wyatt, with their hands clasped together and a husband on each of their sides were Phoebe and Paige. They had each lost their sister and neither of them was dealing too well with that fact. Tears streamed down each of their faces as they listened to the minister, watched as she blew out the candles. Both were very aware of the fact that they could very well be joining their sister soon, but at that moment it was not an issue.
Paige was overcome with memories of her big sister, the woman she looked up to in so many aspects of life. The woman, who without knowing it had restored her faith in love.
The memory flooding her vision at the present time was that of when she first saw Piper and deemed her too good to be her sister.
The music was blaring out of the amps, the band making everyone inside of the nightclub move their bodies. She was seated all alone watching three women and a man from afar. Two of the women were huddled together on a couch watching an embrace between one of the women and the man. They were giggling excitedly together, smiling at the obviously in love couple. The woman from far away watched them and ruled out the possibility that they might be her sisters, they just seemed too perfect, too close of a family for there to be a possible dark family secret of a child been given away.
Paige, from her solo seat, watched as the woman that was with the man, Piper, walked towards the bar, towards where she sat. Piper retrieved some drinks and then headed back to where her family sat. Paige, after much internal debate, went to talk to her, to introduce herself, however, just before she reached Piper she changed her mind and turned around sharply, too sharply. Paige bumped into a man and in an attempt to stop herself from falling she grabbed onto the closest thing she could get her hands on. Looking up she saw whom it was she had grabbed onto, Piper, and consequently she had made her spill the drink all over her clothes.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry about that," said Paige, trying in vain to wipe her skirt clean.
"It's alright," stated Piper laughing, "Nothing could ruin my mood today, I'm engaged…officially," she said glowing.
"Oh, well congratulations," said Paige as she moved aside to let her pass, "Good work Paige, way to go, just drown her in her own drinks next time," she mumbled as she herself walked away.
The memory caused fresh tears to spill from her eyes. If she hadn't of been so stupid she could have had almost a year longer with her sister.
Beside her Phoebe was doing all she could not to remember anything, she didn't want to feel the pain of losing another sister, she didn't want to believe what had happened was real. Funerals were places where you were supposed to accept the death, mourn it and then start to move on, but that wasn't something she felt capable of doing, so instead she built up her own world of denial, trying in vain not to remember her sister.
Just outside of the room where the proceedings were taking place, a third sister stood, her hand clasped in a dark haired mans, tears streaming down her own face, as she looked in on the funeral she should have been able to stop. Her little sister was been said farewell to in that very room and she was powerless to do anything about it.
Guilt was eating away at her insides. She had felt his pain, Chris' pain, when his mother was dying, but it was emotional pain not physical, so she had obeyed the rules and not gone to him. There had been another in the room. At the time she hadn't known who, but someone was there so she hadn't gone. Instead she had stayed exactly where she was, in a room in New York, breaking all kinds of whitelighter rules. The memory of that night was eating away at her very soul.
The air of the room was a happy one. Prue was happy, happier than she had been in a long time. At that moment she had whip cream all over her face and her hands were tied behind her back. She was in the middle of one of the stupidest games she had ever played but she was having a good time. In front of her was a bowl of whipped cream and within that cream were sixteen lollies, the man beside her was in the same position, the game was to get all of the lollies out first.
After much effort she finally got them all out of the bowl only to realize that the man beside her was looking at her with an amused expression and had been for quite some time.
"Alright cowboy, how long have you been finished for?" she asked in a mock annoyed tone.
"Oh only about five minutes," Bane answered calmly.
"Five minutes! You let me keep going for five minutes!"
"Well you were just too damn cute, I couldn't stop you, it wouldn't have been right," he said while smiling charmingly at her. "Think you can forgive me?"
"Well I'll have to think about that one."
"Well maybe I can convince you to," he said as he lent in and began kissing away the cream on her face.
"Bane!" she laughed out.
"What?" he mumbled innocently in between kisses.
Before things got out of hand the phone ringing interrupted them. Groaning Bane answered it.
"Kyle, hey what's wrong?" he said into the phone.
"Oh my God, yeah ok… I'll be on the next flight out… No no, I'll stay at my old apartment… Yeah ok, bye." He hung up.
"What's wrong?" Prue asked concerned.
"Prue, oh god, I don't know how to tell you this," he said, softly stroking her face.
"Is it Paige, did something happen to her?" she asked.
"No it's Piper, she's dead Prue." Bane then took the shocked woman into his arms and tried in vain to comfort her.
That was when the guilt had begun to eat away at her. If only she had gone to Chris when she felt his pain, maybe she could have saved her sister. Standing where she was now, Bane's arms wrapping themselves around her small form, she tried to forget her guilt, but she knew she never would.
The thoughts inside of Bane's head were quite different. He was mourning the loss of a dear friend, but that wasn't the most prominent thing on his mind. The storm had finally come, the power of three was gone, now everything was going to begin to fall apart. The calm was gone and those clouds that hovered were beginning to open up. The storm had begun the week before.
A/N: Thanks for reading and please try to leave a review. Just incase you were wondering, that scene from Paige's memory was taken from the end of the season three episode Blinded by the Whitelighter, and expanded a little bit. I hope you enjoyed this, if you didn't and thought it was the worst thing you have ever read please let me know, I'll be happy for the feedback.
And just one last note, Kota said that Wyatt is two years older than Chris not one. I just wanted to clear that up. Chris was conceived on Wyatt's first birthday so he is therefore one year and nine or ten months older than Chris. The times when in the story Wyatt is only one year older, for example this chapter, that just means the events are taking place during a time when Chris has had his birthday and Wyatt has not. Just wanted to clear that one up.