Piper's Third Child
Chapter 1
San Francisco 2020
One particular Sunday morning found the 40 something Paige Mathews in the attic of the Halliwell Manor twirling an amethyst crystal over a map. She was scrying.
After 20 more minutes of her futile attempt, she threw down the crystal in sheer frustration.
As if in response to her action, a shower of bright blue orbs commenced right beside her.
It turned out to be her 18 year old nephew Wyatt. At 6'4" and a solid, muscular body, coupled with blonde hair that fell to his shoulders and a pair of warm, grey eyes, Wyatt; was by common consent, very, very HOT.
Sensing Paige's mood by virtue of his empathy, he commented conversationally, "You seem to be in a very good mood this morning, my dear aunt Paige."
"Ha, ha, I'm really amused now. It's just that I'm scrying for a boy that I met the other day, who I really wanna help."
"And you're scrying for him? You don't usually scry for your potential clients, do you?" Wyatt asked, slightly puzzled.
"No, I don't," Paige said, "but I have a feeling that the guy's a witch- and a powerful one at that. I think he's troubled somehow."
"Ah…" Wyatt answered very articulately. After 18 years of living with Paige, he knew that Paige's 'feelings' usually turned out to be correct.
"So, he's like what, 4 years old?" he asked his aunt. He was also following in his aunt's footsteps and shaping up his career as a social worker.
"No, of course not! I think he's around Chris's age." Paige answered him, "Maybe a year or two older at the most.
I wasn't even at work when I met him, actually. My lunch break was almost over and I was going back to my office from the cafe when my eyes met his (he was just passing by, you see). I didn't mean to stare, of course, but I ended up doing just that. His head snapped up! And, and, his eyes…they were so haunted. He had these beautiful, vivid, blue eyes, and they seemed to be full of pain.
Not just physical pain, mind you. But pain on so many different levels. And there was another thing- I had the distinct feeling of magick emanating from him. Not evil magick, though, but good." Paige finished her account and looked up to see her second nephew Chris standing at the door, listening attentively.
"Hey, when'd you get here?" Wyatt enquired of his 16 year old brother. "Sometime before the 'vivid, blue eyes part'", he answered, and then continued; now speaking to Paige-"Do you remember his face clearly?"
"Yep, every last detail", Paige answered, beginning to understand what Chris planned to do. Chris had an advanced form of empathy (the one area where he was stronger than even Wyatt) which allowed him to access people's memories instead of just their emotions.
Paige closed her eyes and Chris sat opposite to her, closing his. They held hands, and Paige, knowing what she had to do, concentrated with every ounce of her will power on her memory of 'the blue eyed boy'.
Soon, she had put it together, and Chris, using his power saw it clearly. Satisfied that the guy's face was now permanently imprinted onto his mind, he withdrew his power and opened his eyes, which was the cue for Paige to do the same.
"I see what you mean, Aunt Paige- he does have this 'haunted and pained' expression as you put it" Chris said.
"I can't say anything about the magickal part though. My empathy only lets me see and hear your memories, I can't sense what you sensed", he continued.
"Yeah, I know. But magick or not, we ought to help, if he needs it, at all that is. We have to keep it in mind, he never said anything to me directly." Paige said thoughtfully.
"Yeah, right! When was the last time your intuition let you down?" Wyatt quipped.
"Besides, people who actually need help don't go around parading their troubles, the better to alert any social workers lurking in the general area."
"Anyways, we'll see what we can do." Chris said, wincing almost instantly- he'd sounded WAY too sincere.
Like a replica of his dad, Paige thought, smiling to herself.
Chapter 2
It was Monday morning, Chris was unforgivably late for school and Piper Halliwell was banging on the door of her younger son's room for all she was worth.
"OI! YOU'RE GONNA BE LATE Y'KNOW! WHAT THE HELL'RE YOU DOING?" she said in wonderfully dulcet tones.
"Murdering someone and disposing off the body", pat came the reply from inside.
Piper sighed. Sarcastic was primarily what Chris was, period. After years of trying to correct him, she'd given up altogether.
Better sarcastic than the leader of all evil, Piper reasoned. After all, Wyatt nearly had turned evil, and Chris did come back from the future to save his brother. Of course, that had been another timeline, one which didn't exist now.
A little sarcasm, Piper had decided, won't and can't hurt anyone. The door finally opened and Chris came out, dressed in a white shirt and faded blue jeans. Leaner than his older brother, he was good looking too in his own special way.
Knowing all too well any further remarks would only get progressively more sarcastic comments from her son, she contended herself with giving him one of her trademark withering looks.
Chris cringed. Testing his mom's patience when she was already pissed wasn't exactly the world's safest occupation.
It was 5 pm when Chris got back from school. Greeting his mom with a monosyllabic "Hey!" he charged to the attic. Piper was unperturbed. She knew her son well enough to know that it was probably yet another demon that her son was intent on vanquishing.
She sighed. For the millionth time she wished that her sons at least, would have a little more stress free life. He should be worried about girls at this age, not demons, she thought with a twinge of sadness. Being a Charmed One herself, she knew full well the downsides of being a witch.
Once inside the attic, Chris sat cross legged on the floor. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply, consciously relaxing every muscle of his body. Slipping deep into a meditative state, he opened his elder senses (his dad, Leo who was currently a mortal- a fallen angel to be precise- had been an elder when Chris had been conceived). Obviously, Chris had turned out to be part witch, part elder.
Extending his senses, he knew at once that his mom was in the kitchen and Aunt Phoebe was in her room. Of the two, Phoebe at once knew that she was being sensed- she was an empath (the regular kind).
Extending them still further, he focused all his energies on Paige's 'blue eyed boy', remembering his face, and above all those haunted blue eyes.
Sifting through all the denizens of San Francisco was cumbersome business- picking one mind out of thousands was obviously not an easy task. After a relatively superficial scan, he went even deeper, channeling more power into it.
At dinner an hour later, Chris could all but keep from falling asleep right on the table. "Sweetie, you O.K.?" Piper asked him, her mother's eyes noticing his fatigue almost immediately.
"It's nothing, mom. Just a little tired. I was trying to sense someone and just couldn't. Sensing always seems to take a lot out of m----e." , Chris answered her, trying to, but failing to stifle a huge yawn.
"Well, among all the whitelighter/elder powers, sensing does take a lot of energy to pull off, second only to healing.", said Leo, speaking up.
"Maybe", Wyatt said, joining the conversation, "we can do it together. You know, joining power."
"O.K., not to butt in or anything, but why the sudden interest in sensing?" asked Phoebe. "Oh, it's a certain 16 year old who Aunt Paige feels needs help." Wyatt answered his aunt, winking as he said 'feels'.
"Speaking of my blue eyed innocent, he was there on the exact same spot as he was on Saturday, except he was the one doing all the staring this time. Almost making up his mind about something." Paige, of course.
Chapter 3
His mother flicked her hand and Gabriel went sailing across his room, hitting the nearest wall. Hard.
Wincing, he started to get up, deciding not to notice the blood that was gushing from his scalp. Before he could successfully do it however, a dagger found its way into his shoulder, once again, courtesy of his mother.
"I WARNED YOU DIDN'T I? YOU DO NOT CONTACT ANYONE, YOU HEAR- NO ONE!" Gabriel's mom shrieked, approaching him.
"I-I d-didn't, I swear mom. I don't even know who she is, I p-promise!" he stuttered, backing away from his mother's almost homicidal anger.
She flicked her hand upwards, and Gabriel's shirt ripped, already oozing blood. He gave a whimper of pain. She repeated the process a few more times and consequently, he ended up with jagged cuts all over his body.
Throwing a glowering look at her son, her anger finally quenched, she stalked out of the room, taking care to lock the door behind her.
Thankfully left alone, Gabriel tore the dagger from his shoulder, grimacing with pain as he did so. Exhausted, starving and in pain, he covered his face with his hands and groaned.
Stupid! He berated himself. He'd been stupid to think that mom wouldn't actually find out that he'd been contemplating escape, that he'd been thinking of contacting a witch.
Gingerly, Gabriel got up and limped his way to his 'bed', which consisted of a lumpy and uncomfortable mattress, an equally lumpy and uncomfortable pillow and a dirty bed sheet.
Dropping his bruised and throbbing body onto the mattress, he assessed the damage. His entire body ached and his head periodically sent out stabs of pain.
At least, he reasoned with himself, nothing seems to be broken. And the bleeding's stopped too.
That was the one good thing that he could think about his miserable existence. His wounds seemed to heal at least ten times faster than normal. He suspected that magick was somehow involved. But as long as his mom didn't detect it, he wasn't complaining.
'NO MAGICK' was one of the most basic rules that he had to live by. Disobeying meant something on the lines of what his mother had just so unhesitatingly demonstrated. The woman who he called his mother only due to biological reasons didn't even tolerate accidental magick.
He still grimaced when he remembered what she had done to him when he'd used his telekinesis inadvertently five years ago.