Author's note: It may take a while between updates, but I'm trying to keep up with this as much as possible. Thanks for taking the time to read it! Please review with any comments/suggestions; constructive criticism is welcome.
-FIFTEEN YEARS LATER-
Car horns blared at Wyatt as he maneuvered down the congested San Francisco streets. Laden with grocery bags filled with the little he could afford, Wyatt was making his way back to the run down apartment he had shared with his grandfather and little brother ever since the deaths of his mother and aunts fifteen years before.
Walking past identical doors covered in peeling dark gray paint, Wyatt stopped in front of number 8. Shifting his burden slightly, the seventeen year old fumbled in his pocket for the house keys. The lock clicked open, and Wyatt pushed the door open with his shoulder. He backed slowly into main room, kicking the door shut as soon as he was in. Pulling his hand free from the bags once again, Wyatt locked both the deadbolt and the lock on the knob. Nowadays, there was no such thing as being too careful.
Wyatt turned so that his back was to the door and stopped, frozen in place. Victor Bennett, his grandfather and legal guardian, was lying face down in the center of the room. There was a circular scorch mark in the center of his back, a mark that could only have been left by a demonic energy ball. Wyatt barely noticed it. He felt as though he were moving in slow motion as he let the bags drop to the floor, instantly forgotten.
For a few seconds his mind was blank, uncomprehending. Suddenly, as if some sort of dam had burst, emotions and thoughts flooded into the numb chambers of his mind. Blindly, Wyatt stepped forward and crouched by his grandfather's side, already knowing he was too late. The eldest Halliwell son knew this feeling all too well, for it was the same cloud of emotion that had hammered him as he watched, helpless, as his mother was killed years before. It was the same emotion he had felt as, from under the table where Piper had forced him to hide, he watched his aunts Phoebe and Paige rush to her aid, only to ultimately meet the same fate. Wyatt, remembering that day a decade and a half before, began to shake uncontrollably.
A sniffling noise from the corner caused Wyatt to snap his head to attention. He stood warily, not knowing what else was in the room with him. It didn't take him long to find the source of the sound: his younger brother Chris was crouched in the small space between the dilapidated couch and the stained wall. As Wyatt's shining eyes met Chris's, the latter's already overflowing with tears, he asked the one obvious question.
"What happened?"