We are the Normal

I don't own Charmed, but Christian 'Kit' Doss is mine. Don't touch.

Rating: PG-13 to R. NC-17 at affdotnet, you lucky gits you. LOL.

Warnings: BDSM (if you're lucky), Mysticism, language, sex (Again, if you're lucky), angst, romance, slash, and such.

Summery: Sometimes the things you lost aren't really lost to you at all. When a man shows up, asking for the Sisters help in saving his son Chris finds that destiny just won't be denied.

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Chapter Two

I've Lost Myself

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Phoebe wasn't in the manor. Chris knew it the moment he opened his eyes; one of the major advantages of being half whitelighter was his ability to keep track of his charges and since those were his mother and aunts at the moment it ended up being pretty handy. Also handy was his ability to check in on them.

She was fine, or at least wasn't calling out for his help. Content with that Chris stretched and, grimacing at the foul taste in his mouth, decided now would be as good a time as any to join the world of the living. Unfortunately that meant getting out of bed and sometimes there was nothing harder than doing that, no matter how poorly you slept the night before.

Chris rolled out of bed, glancing at the now covered crack in the floor of the basement. He and Leo had cemented it up to keep the energy inside in and Chris was constantly pulling a throw rug over it. It was usually half way across the room by the time he woke up though. The cement was still holding at least though Chris knew they would eventually have to do it again.

He pulled the rug back then, scratching at his chest, grabbed a towel and orbed upstairs. He ended up outside the bathroom, grimacing as he recalled the first and only time he'd orbed straight into the bathroom. Phoebe had been less than pleased to see him, not that he'd gotten a kick out of it either. Who wanted to see their aunt naked?

The only things he could think of that were worse were seeing his parents naked and seeing his parents having sex. It was bad enough he'd practically had to force his own conception.

"Ah, Chris!" His mom hurried down the hall, Wyatt in her arms. She was about six months along and looking very round, but very happy. "Just the man I was looking for. Watch your brother for a couple of hours, please?"

"Uh, sure." He had a feeling, as she handed Wyatt off to him, that his answer wouldn't have mattered much to her, as she didn't appear to be listening to a word he was saying. Clearly something was going on. "What's-"

"Demon, docks, inspector, P3, grocery shopping, gotta go. Be good sweetie." She pressed a kiss to a bewildered looking Wyatt's forehead before leaning up and pressing on to Chris' cheek and turning and running off. He blinked, trying not to let the warm feeling welling up in his chest get to him. The first time she'd hugged him he'd been torn between the desire to pull her closer and pretend that this was the way things were and push her away.

She'd been so sad in his future, having lost her sister and husband… seeing her like this, happy, was almost painful sometimes. But this was why he'd come back, to make the future better and this was just the proof of that.

He felt his mother and Paige leaving the house, most likely by orbing considering how sudden the disappearance of their power signatures were, and then looked down at Wyatt who stared back. The toddler was still dressed in his pajamas and had probably just woken up if the way he was rubbing at his eye was any indication. In fact he still looked pretty tired. So was Chris now that he thought about it. He hadn't been able to go to sleep after his dream and now that he was up and walking around he felt like he could do just that.

However, as much as he would have liked to curl up in his bed he couldn't take Wyatt into the basement. As powerful as his brother was something was going to go wrong, it went without saying really. Plus it was dank, drafty, and kind of depressing. No place for someone like Wyatt, but perfect for him.

"Well Wy, it's Saturday morning and the women have left. Do you know what this means?"

Wyatt stared at him for a long moment, face screwed up in what appeared to be very serious thought. "No."

Chris laughed and turned, heading for the steps. "Well, we either throw an incredibly sexy party and while I'm sure you'd be the life of it, I'm not in the mood. So…we get to turn on cartoons and park on the couch like the lazy men we are."

"Cartoons." Was Wyatt's empathetic response, a smile breaking out on his face. He smiled, holding his brother a little closer as they went down the stairs. Chris didn't think Wyatt had ever been this easy to please in the future, even before he'd decided to take everything over. Simple pleasures had never seemed to amuse his brother.

He set Wyatt on the couch, giving the toddler orders not to move. He turned on the TV and, once sure that Wyatt was focused, orbed into the laundry room. He pulled his clean cover from the dryer and tucked it under his arm. He went through the kitchen, grabbing a box of graham crackers as he went. Wyatt was right where he'd left him, thoroughly absorbed in…something, that involved girls with big eyes in skimpy skirts. Chris sat down, hauled the toddler into his lap, and then pulled the cover on top of them.

Once Wyatt had a cracker in each hand he seemed content to sit and watch giving Chris a chance to catch up on the sleep he'd lost the night before. He leaned back against the arm, turning his head away from the screen, and closed his eyes.

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Chris found him just outside the mouth of a cave, covered in bruises and small cuts. Chris had heard that Wyatt had struck here, in the caves along the coast, flushing out the demons that had dared to oppose his rise to power. He hadn't expected to find anything and as each hour passed with nothing he became more and more sure he was wasting his time. But, in one of the last caves, he had found a man.

And now that he had he didn't know what to do. He was a demon in human guise obviously, and as such Chris should have vanquished him and called it a day. Instead he knelt to him and reached out to brush back sand caked blond hair. He got a low moan in response then silted green eyes stared up at him. For a moment they were blank and then fear slowly bled in.

"Please don't hurt me."

Demon or not he looked so weak and…well, Chris needed information of what Wyatt had done here and if he killed the only person left standing he'd never learn a damn thing. He reached out, grabbing the man's hand and then focused on his apartment.

They ended up in the living room and the man all but collapsed into his arms, coughing violently. He was wet, shivering against him, and so thin that when Chris moved to better support his weight he could feel his ribs. He half-carried half-dragged him into his bedroom and laid him out on his bed. He knelt down and swallowed, holding his hands over the pale trembling form.

He knew, logically, that he couldn't heal a demon…or at least he suspected. He'd never tried it and his knowledge of his non-witch heritage was limited at best. Mom had never really wanted to talk about Whitelighters, even though her husband had been one and her children were half-breeds. He didn't even know why he was trying; what good what it do?

Wasn't it better to leave him weak and at his mercy so he could get the information he needed and then dispose of him easily? Why heal him and just make things that much harder.

Still he closed his eyes and drew on the part of himself that could heal, feeling the warmth rush through his body and towards his fingertips. Healing people was like…everything good in the world all rolled into once and crammed inside of him. It just felt…wonderful to do.

Using his magic could leave him drained and tired, but this always left him energetic and…happy. Like…like he had just fed off of the goodness of what he'd just done. Like always he could feel the energy seeping through him, chasing away some of the frustration and anger over how ineffective he was against his brother. He was always too late or outnumbered or just not strong enough and…it hurt sometimes. It made him so tired that he wanted to give up, even though he knew he couldn't.

He cracked his eyes open to see what, if anything, was happening and was surprised to see the bruises and cuts had healed almost completely. He was still wet, dirty, and cold but at least he wasn't hurt. Chris pulled his hands away, not sure what to think.

Maybe this guy wasn't a demon after all. Maybe he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and was an innocent. Maybe the demons had kidnapped him for some reason or another and Wyatt had accidentally saved him. He probably didn't know anything about anything, one of those rare humans still able to explain away magic and strange happenings. Even now, as the world spun out of control, denial was a powerful thing.

Too powerful. He'd denied for years that Wyatt was changing, becoming darker and more twisted and now where was he? Fighting the only family he had left and trying to stop him from becoming ruler of the Underworld, a being even stronger and more terrible than the Source had dreamt of being.

A clammy hand gripped his wrist and he was jarred back to the present. Green eyes were staring at him; more alert than they had been a moment before. "Whitelighter."

So much for him not knowing anything. "Yeah."

"You healed me." His words were slow and breathy, as if speaking was taking some great effort. Chris nodded and he shut his eyes, hissing softly before opening them again. "Why? I'm…demon."

So much for not being a demon. There was nothing he could do about it now really; he couldn't vanquish him like this. It just wasn't right. He was so obviously weak and had been through something major is Wyatt had indeed attacked his people. Doing anything else to him in this condition wasn't how Chris had been raised; even the worst people didn't deserve to put down like animals.

And this guy certainly hadn't done anything to him. Wyatt would have called him soft, weak, and snuffed the demon out without a second thought, but Chris had never been the sort to do that. His brother said he over thought things and maybe he did.

"Ah…you were hurt."

He blinked, looking as if he was trying to recall something. It must have come to him because his eyes went wide and he sat up quickly. Chris jumped back, half-expecting an attack, but the other man groaned and clutched his side, pain written all over his face.

Apparently Chris hadn't healed him all that well. Chris started to move back but a hand signaled him to stop. The man took a few deep breaths then smiled at him thinly.

"Bruised ribs, not bad since I was spitting up blood when I passed out. I've had worse." With some effort he moved to the side of the bed and put his feet onto the floor. He stopped for a moment, wiping at his mouth and grimacing. "I've gotta…the caves. My family. That witch…his eyes. God."

The shiver that went through his body was all Chris needed to see to know it had been Wyatt. No one else could put that much fear into anyone. Since his brother had come into his power fully every demon with half a brain had gone underground and even then Wyatt had hunted and eliminated almost all but the ones in the Underworld.

And now he was getting rid of them as well.

Chris swallowed thickly, not sure how he could say this. "I didn't see anyone else there. I didn't feel anyone else either and I'd been searching for hours."

Green eyes locked onto his for a moment and then he shook his head slowly. "You don't understand, that's my entire clan…my family. No one witch could wipe them out."

"He could. He's done it to all of the demons hiding out."

Another head shake as trembling hands flexed. "No."

He looked at Chris, eyes dark, and then he was gone with a shimmer of black light. Well…he was a demon, no doubt about that. A demon that knew where he lived thanks to his stupid moral code. Chris sighed and ran his fingers through his hair; what the hell was he supposed to do now?

Follow him? Forget him? Move?

He stood, eying his now damp and sand-covered sheets with a frown. He pulled them off and threw them into the corner with his other dirty clothes then headed for the spare room where he kept all of his junk to find some new ones.

He'd remade his bed and run the other stuff down the laundry room, already resigning himself to more hiding out and waiting for the others who stood against his brother to give him a head's up on something. He'd do some research on the demon nest that had been wiped out today, find out what threat they had posed to Wyatt and how they related to the other nests he'd taken out recently.

He wouldn't bother with the other man, though he should be probably be somewhat worried. Chris couldn't explain it but he just…couldn't be afraid.

Only when he walked in he found the blond demon sitting on his couch, head buried in his hands. Chris shut his door lightly but the other man looked up nonetheless. His eyes were puffy and his face stained with tear tracks.

Chris didn't think he'd ever seen a demon cry before. He made his way over carefully, just in case, but the demon just looked back at his hands a small smile quirking his lips.

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Wyatt was shaking him and calling his name and, though he really didn't want to, Chris pushed himself through the haze of sleep and sat up quickly, ready for any potential threat. All he found was Wyatt peering up at him with wide blue eyes. He sighed and started to lie back down when the doorbell rang.

Damn it. He picked Wyatt up again and stood before heading for the door to see whom it was. Demons didn't usually ring the bell so he wasn't too concerned on that front. And on the off chance they had suddenly gotten polite he trusted Wyatt's shield and his own ability to orb to keep them safe from anything.

He looked though the window and saw a man with close cut blond hair and brown eyes standing outside. Standing was really too nice a term, as he was really shifting from foot to foot nervously and moving his hands from his pockets then back in and then out again.

He looked fairly nervous but was probably another of Paige or Phoebe's boyfriends so he opened the door some. The man jumped, looking as if he hadn't expected a response then chuckled, eyes darting around.

"Can I help you?"

"Um…maybe. I was looking for…" another glance around and he leaned forward, voice dropping to a whisper. "The Charmed Ones."

Chris shifted Wyatt's weight to free up the hand not on the door, ready toform an energy ball if needed. "What for?"

"A demon has my son." The man said softly, looking for the life of him as if he might burst into tears any second. "I have to get him back; who knows what they'll do to him if I don't."

"Oh. Well. Come in. I'm Chris, this is my brother-"

"Wyatt." The man offered a small grin. "There are few witches who don't know about him. I didn't know there was an older…I mean-"

"It's fine. It's complicated anyway." Chris moved to the side, letting the man in, before shutting and locking the door. Wyatt didn't seem to sense anything, just peering at the man curiously. "Your son, what demon has him?"

"She's…it's…She's a half-breed I believe. Her power lies in Necromancy but she has Succubus traits as well. She's powerful, too powerful for me to take care of on my own and I didn't want to risk exposing the rest of my coven."

"Fair enough." Chris set Wyatt on the couch and armed him with another graham cracker. "Do you know why she took him?"

A moment of silence as the man looked at the ground. Then he spoke, hate thick in his voice. "She's his mother. She tricked me into thinking she was a witch, a good woman, but she wasn't. She just wanted to use me to have a child and then…she left. She'd due any day now so it's not too late yet, but if she gets him into the Underworld I'll never see him again."

"Oh." Chris sat as well, legs suddenly not feeling strong enough to hold him. This was all sounding eerily familiar to him. He knew this story, had heard it once before. He even knew how it ended: The father husband was killed trying to storm the Underworld alone to save the son not yet born and was killed then drained by his Succubus wife, accidentally transferring the man's power to the baby. Of course no one would know that part for nearly twenty years.

He knew this story as well as he knew his own.