Wyatt tiredly dragged his feet along the floor as he walked up the hallway. It was late now, later than he had expected to get home. He had to admit he was slightly annoyed about that. Amanda had made promises to improve her behaviour, and still they kept ending up back at square one. So yet again he found himself practically babysitting an ignorant brat who refused to listen to him. He heard a clap of thunder outside and wearily lifted his head. The door to the bedroom was only slightly ajar. He pushed against it, keeping it steady with the other hand so as not to make any noise. What little light there was shining into the room only just succeeded in spilling over the window frame. The rest of the room lay in darkness.

As he heard the rain begin to pour down outside he saw the curtain blowing in, swelling up around a great puff of wind. If Wyatt didn't know any better he would have thought someone was standing behind it with the enormity of the form.

He heard the rain smattering against the window outside as he inched closer to the bed, peeling off his clothes as he went. Down to his boxers he collapsed onto the edge, lifting his feet and sinking his head down into the pillow, listening to the rain outside. He noticed Bianca tossing and turning beside him, moaning softly. He turned his head and looked at her with concern.

"B, you awake?" he whispered. She moaned again and he lifted his head a little. What she was saying was becoming more audible now.

"No, don't. Stay away. Don't come near me," she murmured.

Wyatt shifted himself onto his side, propping his head up with his hand as he watched her. She began pushing at the covers, her vocalisations getting louder. Feeling compelled to pull her out of her nightmare he reached over her and grabbed her upper arm, shaking her gently.

"Bianca, wake up. It's just a bad dream," he said.

He was surprised when she roughly pushed him away. Caught up in her own state of delusional unconsciousness, she didn't even seem aware of what she was doing.

"Go away! I don't want to. I don't want to do this. Just leave me alone!" she shouted.

Wyatt looked up and down her body quickly. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't grab her shoulder again, not with her arms flailing about. Shifting closer to her he placed his hand against the side of her face, trying to still her at least a little.

"No," she mumbled again, trying to move away. He kept steady, not allowing her any room to thrash about on the bed anymore.

"C'mon, B. Open your eyes," he coaxed, trying to keep himself calm.

She tried to move again. He knew he had to do something to try and bring her out of this, and he wasn't about to hit her. He leant in, pressing his lips against hers, drawing back and hoping against all hope that it would work. He didn't have to wait long, only seconds later she inhaled sharply, her eyes flying open and her body rising towards him. She burst into tears as soon as she saw him, her body crumpling back against the bed.

"Hey, hey," he said as she squeezed her eyes closed, the tears flowing down her face. He took her shoulder again and pulled her towards him, letting her burrow herself into his chest. Slowly he stroked the back of her hair, gently kissing the top of her head. "Ssh, it's okay. You're safe. They're not after you. It's okay."

He knew she'd had nightmares about this kind of thing before, but nothing as terrifyingly traumatic as what he'd just witnessed. She'd never been effected to this degree before. Her body wracked with sobs, she continued to shake against him as he held her tightly, trying to soothe her with calming words and a gentle touch. Despite his fatigue, Wyatt stayed awake for as long as he could to watch over her. He was determined to protect her, even though he knew he couldn't defend her from her inner demons. Her sobbing receded into sniffles as she lay there with her eyes open. She didn't speak, and he didn't push her too, instead listening to the rain beat down on the window outside. She was so close to him he could feel every breath she took, every muscle that moved. Eventually he felt her eyelashes brush softly against his skin as she closed her eyes again, her breathing more laboured as she drifted back to sleep. Kissing the top of her head again, he shifted himself into a more comfortable position, laying his head back, sleep soon pulling him away from reality as well.

Sinking deep into slumber, the darkness immersed him into torturous dreams of his own. Scenes of bloody mayhem and death by his hand; Excalibur a weapon of affliction by his side. Briefly he thought he spied Bianca, and then Chris who was looking more than a little annoyed with him. But it was the anarchy that prevailed most, and that feeling that he was actually enjoying it.

The sound of rain ringing in his ears, he could feel it falling on him, his hair plastered to his face with the dampness, the drops rolling off the bridge of his nose and dripping from his chin into the pool that was emerging around his ankles. He noticed now he was in a hole, or rather an almost complete grave. Shovel in hand he glanced up as a voice called down to him.

"Wyatt! What are you doing?" Bianca shouted.

He could see her hair hung in ragged strings about her face. She was completely soaked from the rain that fell as well, despite the jacket she clung to that was wrapped around her body.

"For you," he called back. He could see the frightened look materialize in her eyes as she hesitantly tried to take a step back from the edge. He laughed; thrilled to see he had such power over her. "What's the matter, Bianca? Afraid to die?"

Wyatt awoke suddenly. Feeling his face still damp, he casually wiped at the wetness with his hand, looking up to the roof with bleary eyes as if trying to work out where the rain was coming through. His mind finally focused enough to recognize he was having his own nightmare and he realised that it wasn't rainwater but sweat that covered his face. He raised both hands, rubbing his face forcefully as if trying to wipe away the memories of his dreams as well as the physical signs that had come from them. Inhaling a deep breath he realised someone was no longer curled up to him.

"B?" he called.

"Hmm?" came her half muffled response as she snuggled further into the pillow.

He could tell that she was still half asleep, but she sounded a million miles away as if the bed was double the size. That feeling was soon lost as he reached out towards her, and felt his hand fall away not far from his body. Now the bed felt like half the size it should have been. Trying once more he felt his hand sweep through the air again. Confused, he placed his hand where he knew it was secure and pushed himself up into a sitting position. The lightning flashed outside again, creating enough light inside the room for him to see that a chasm had formed between him and Bianca, stretching not just across the bed but through the room.

"What the hell?" he asked aloud.

"Huh?" Bianca questioned sleepily, rolling back towards him

"Bianca, no! Look out!" he shouted.

Startled by the volume and insistency in his voice, she stopped short and pushed herself up, her hand resting on the very edge of the chasm. She looked down at it, mystified, her eyes tracing the whole way along its length and up the wall across the room. Again she looked back to where her hand was; shifting it back a little to see it was very dark down there wherever that chasm was leading to. She glanced up at Wyatt.

"I think I missed something," she commented dryly.

"I don't know. It's…" Wyatt trailed off, passing his hand through the gap again. He didn't want to say 'bizarre', or 'weird', or anything that had any affiliation with those words. He'd used them enough today.

"Um, Wyatt," Bianca started, looking down at herself and glancing quickly at him, his attention focused on the chasm for the moment.

Wyatt looked over to her, or rather through her. He could see the window and the curtain behind her, but he knew he shouldn't be able to see them at all. She was completely transparent. His eyes travelled up and down her body, and he could see from the expression on her face that she was starting to panic. More than a little concerned himself, he balanced himself on the edge of the gap and reached out towards her.

"Take my hand," he directed. He couldn't understand her hesitation as her eyes switched from his hand to his face and then back again. "Bianca!"

"I don't want to hurt you," she insisted.

Unsteadily he pushed himself forward, trying to reach further so he could at least grab her. She glanced behind her as if something was lying there in wait, and at that moment he didn't particularly care because whatever it was she thought she saw it was enough to spur her forward to try and grab for his hand. Looking down at where he was perched, he tightened his grip and swung his hand towards hers to try and grab it. Thunder clapped loudly outside, followed by a flash of lightning. It was enough to illuminate her face before she completely disappeared.

He screamed in frustration, with enough power to divert his concentration so much that he almost overbalanced and fell into the rift. Catching the edge quickly with his other hand, he pushed himself back quickly, lifting his hand again to find it fading just as Bianca had done. Rapidly it seemed to be making his way up his arm. He didn't understand it, didn't know how to stop it, and the only glimmer of hope he could offer himself at that moment was that perhaps he would now be going to the same place where Bianca had just gone.

The dreams that rambled through Chris' mind confused him. All brief but strung together into some familiar pattern. He was giving Bianca a ring and asking her to marry him – an impossibility considering she was his brother's fiancé – followed by another which showed him having dinner with his grandfather who had long since died of throat cancer. Consistently he saw his parents at a younger age, moving around, speaking to him, and if he was not mistaken his mother looked to be pregnant. Feeling a sharp pain in his abdomen, seeing blood on his hands as he collapsed to the attic floor, Chris awoke with a start, throwing off the sheets covering him and dabbing at the shirt covering his stomach. He found it hard to believe both his hand and shirt were totally dry. His dreams had looked and felt so real that it was difficult to dismiss them as such – only dreams.

He heard rapping on the window outside and instantly lifted himself into a sitting position. Hearing a clap of thunder he finally left his bed to peer out the window. Drawing aside the curtain he saw a jagged piece of lightning ripping through the sky further into the city. He wondered if he was still dreaming, the sky having been clear blue only hours before. He turned away from the window and stared at the bed as if expecting to see a pool of blood lying on the sheets. Something was not quite right, things he couldn't remember but felt so familiar. He could see his father crying over him by the bed. He knew it had never happened, wondering possibly if it was a premonition of some sort.

Thunder clapped again, making him jump. As the next bolt of lightning flashed he saw something light up to his right – a pair of eyes. Waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness he quickly realised it was only his reflection in the mirror. With that thought in mind he calmed down a little. But seeing his eyes, it reminded him of something – something he had told his brother he would do, but had not remembered until now. When he'd arrived home Sam had phoned him, and any mission he had set for himself completely slipped his mind. Not simply because of Sam. Although she could be quite distracting Chris knew he never forgot things, at least not as easily as he had done today. He made his way out of his room and up to the attic to find the Book of Shadows.

He looked around the room as he entered it and had the odd sensation that it didn't feel familiar anymore. Things seemed out of place, a little cleaner maybe. He had seen so many visions of it in his dreams that he couldn't quite remember how it looked anymore. He glanced to the side, almost convinced he had seen Bianca there, but knowing it was highly unlikely. She was probably fast asleep now. More than likely Wyatt would be with her. He shifted uncomfortably at the odd feelings of jealousy that spurned within him from that thought. He'd never had a problem with the two of them before.

His eyes falling on the book he made his way over to the dais, patting the cover with his hands unsurely. It was there. For some odd reason he was beginning to think the book was missing and this was all part of his imagination. But feeling the worn cover under his hands he knew he was wrong. Gently he eased it open, flicking over the first page, then the second. Thinking this might take him all night he took a step back and started telekinetically flicking through the pages. The thunder clapped outside again, and he heard a little voice in his heard warning him of consequences for using magic as personal gain – oddly the voice sounded like his mother. Dropping his hands to the side again he took a step back towards the dais, flipping the pages of the book with his fingers this time.

He tried to focus on what he was looking for but his mind kept drifting. Lightning flashed outside, and inside the attic it reflected off something. Chris froze at the book, looking up at the glint. Fear quickly rose inside him as he remembered the glint of the athame in his dream, the one that had stabbed him. He couldn't remember the guys face very well, but he knew for the most part he had been invisible.

"Hello?" Chris called, getting that eerie sense of deja vu that he had done this before. His dreams kept resonating in his head like the consistent pitter patter of the rain outside. He fastened his eyes closed, rubbing his hand across them as he tried to wake himself up a little more.

Peering down at the book again he discovered that he had opened it to the right page this time. The Eye of Acrilya. Reading further he found that it had been noted as a legend, a story whereby the eye was only rumoured to exist. It was an ancient evil that had been buried thousands of years ago to keep it from casting its gaze over the world and reverting major changes in time so that evil would have a chance to rule the world. A note had been added to the bottom, a swirling footnote of flowing handwriting that Chris recognised as his great-grandmother's. Penny Halliwell had additionally inscribed that the eye was not as well hidden as it used to be, that it had been temporarily unearthed in the 1950's when new buildings were being constructed around the Golden Gate Bridge area. She used Lenin and Hitler as prime examples of the eye's influence, writing that these scenes in history had been played out and were not changeable once completed. She feared for the next time the eye was unearthed, for when it opened up time would reverse and go back to the last point of origin where the next great evil was stopped.

Chris felt that stabbing pain in his abdomen again, only this time it felt as if it went in deeper. He cried out as he felt the pain ripping through his body; felt the puncture wound getting larger as the athame was twisted inside his body. He keeled over, gripping his stomach and staring down at his hand. Still there was no blood but the pain, the memory, it was all right there. Gripping the edge of the dais he fell to the floor, the book falling beside him. He glanced over to it, vainly trying to reach out for it, and saw it become transparent – just like it had been in his dream. He looked to his stomach again, wondering why he could feel the athame digging inside his body but not see anything there. He turned, groaning at the pain, seeing the walls become fuzzy and then turn red. Trying to focus his eyes, gritting his teeth at the pain, lifting himself slightly he could see them splitting apart, a dark void filling in the gap. He cried out again at the pain, dropping his head back onto the floor. The world seemed like it was fading away and he with it.

Outside the rain continued to pour, the storm resounding its echo, the light from the jagged strokes of lightning illuminating the sky and striking wherever it could do the most damage. Buildings that had been constructed recently began to fall back to the ground; old buildings that lay where they stood began to build themselves back up. Things began to disappear and reappear in their older forms. The waters receded. The sun began to travel backwards through the sky as it travelled through day and night in a reverse fashion. The speed with which time passed began to decelerate once twenty-two years had gone by, slowing down as it hit 2004 and repairing any changes a young man named Chris Perry had made. Time had now been altered back to its original state, set to play out again as it once had been. The eye was attempting to play out the fate of the next great evil, the destiny which had not been completed due to his brother's interference. The Eye of Acrilya had reverted time so that Wyatt Halliwell would have his chance to make his name in the history books for years to come, and all those around him were set to begin their lives anew, not knowing the happy states they were in now but the state of their lives as they had been before Wyatt's younger brother took the chance of going through that portal in 2026 to save his brother from his evil fate, and to save the world from him.