Thanks to all those people who've read and reviewed my story. Hope you'll enjoy reading this installment. There's a subtle reference to Harry Potter, see if you can spot it. Tell me in your reviews. As for the disclaimer, kindly refer to the 1st chapter. Some of it is loosely based on the flashbacks from Chris crossed, but I didn't have an actual script to aid me, only my less-than-perfect memory, so please don't mind if a few things don't match the show.
Chapter 2
Squatting next to his glaringly injured brother, and yet as helpless as he had been when he'd watched his mother dying, Darmuid tried to take deep, steady breaths- he'd heard that deep breaths helped to calm you down.
Unless of course you're stuck in a very realistic nightmare where you're mother just bled to death, and you're older brother is pretty much following in her footsteps. In a situation like that, a few morphine injections would be more effective.
Just as Darmuid was labeling the inventor of the deep-breaths-calm-you-down theory as an inexperienced jack ass, he heard footsteps behind him. Hoping against hope that it wasn't a demon, he whirled around, and saw his oldest brother, a.k.a. Wyatt Mathew Halliwell.
Wonderful, soaring relief flowed through him. Sure, this Wyatt acted, spoke and dressed a little too… demonically (Darmuid hesitated a moment before using that particular adjective for his brother) for his comfort, but it was still Wyatt, right?
The brother who was so protective of his younger siblings that it was downright annoying. The brother who risked getting blown up by his mom just to cover for his brothers. The brother who had taught him how to ride a bike. The brother who had taught him how to tap into his powers properly. It was still him, right?
Wrong. For looking at Wyatt's face, Darmuid sensed that something was wrong- very, very, very wrong.
Normally, Wyatt would have a cow if any of his family members so much as got a mid level energy ball slammed into their shoulder (which, if you happen to be a Halliwell, by marriage or otherwise, isn't considered to be a very fatal injury.), especially if the 'family member' were a brother.
To see any of his brothers in the state that Chris was now, would predictably give him a full blown heart attack.
This Wyatt however didn't seem even the least bit perturbed. If anything, although Darmuid hated himself for even thinking something like this, he looked amused even.
Slowly, deliberately, he strode up to the twenty year old Chris (which was the age Darmuid had guessed his brother to be currently in), and asked him, "I will ask you again, Christopher, will you join your brother?"
Chris forced himself into a sitting position, and defiantly, looking uncannily like a male version of Piper Halliwell as he did so, answered, "One thing, Lord Wyatt, you are not my brother. He is dead to me now. And finally, the answer is no- I refuse to pervert what my mother has passed onto me, I refuse to go against her principles, I refuse to use my magick for evil."
Chris appeared calm and composed, and only Darmuid (and possibly this possessed version of his brother) could tell that on the inside Chris was light years away from calm and composed.
'Wyatt' looked slightly pissed off, which, mind you, was an expression capable of sending the bravest of people running in the opposite direction, screaming their lungs out.
"Very well, I see you need a little more persuasion." Wyatt intoned, his voice sending shivers up and down Darmuid's spine.
He waved his hand, healing Chris' wounds immediately, and told him ominously, "The Zanqhàth will be pleased with their client tonight."
Despite the tough-as-nails-guy act was putting up, mostly for 'Wyatt's' benefit, Chris paled visibly.
Darmuid had the sudden urge to throw up. 'The Zanqhàth' were the demonic world's version of prostitutes.
And being demonic, they took 'kinky' to a whole new level. To make someone forcibly sleep with them- well, let's just say that the person would be better off dead.
Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, Darmuid kept repeating in his head. Oh God, Wyatt! He screamed silently at the black dressed shell of the brother that he knew; what the fuck is wrong with you! Are you really gonna have demons rape your own brother?
And suddenly, feeling very sick, he decided that he really didn't want to know the answer.
With a fear settling in his mind, he prayed to whatever power that controlled the premonitions of a Seer, that he really, really didn't want to see his own brother getting raped, that too on the orders of his older brother.
Please, please, don't make me watch that, please. I can't, I can't. He prayed with as much as sincerity as he had within himself, which was a lot.
For, a premonition was something that no Seer, no matter how powerful or advanced could block out. You could have them on command, but only if you were meant to See what you commanded.
Similarly, if you were meant to See something, no matter how unpleasant or scarring, you'd have to see it. And squeezing your eyes shut and simply refusing to watch wasn't exactly an option- for the simple reason that premonitions just didn't work that way.
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Miraculously, when he opened his eyes again, he found himself inside the Manor, which looked pretty much like a museum. Thank god I didn't have to see Chris…not going there, not going there, NOT GOING THERE! Darmuid's thoughts ricocheted around his brains like ping pong balls.
So calming himself as best as he could, which, admittedly, wasn't a very successful attempt, he looked at the future, no past, well, let's just settle for a version of the Manor, shall we?
Like he'd noticed before, this version of the Manor looked like some kind of museum. It looked pretty much the same, give or take a few oddities here and there. But something that was glaringly missing from the house was the feeling of warmth, it was missing love.
This place wasn't home. It was just a house, nothing more. Maybe it was because of the roped pathways that wound their way through probably the entire house.
Or perhaps, Darmuid thought, noticing them for the first time, it was because of the few dozen demons that roamed the place, like they were guards or something.
That was also when he noticed the little levitating robot things flying around the house, emitting a light beam of sorts.
Hearing people talking, he went to the source of the sound, which was the kitchen.
He was met with the sight of a group of people, gathered around a person, who he presumed was a guide of sorts.
"The Charmed Ones vanquished more than a thousand demons in their time, before they were finally vanquished themselves."
The 'guide' went on and on. He even mentioned something about the 'reconstitution of the Charmed Ones', complete with a hologram of Piper, Phoebe and Paige getting their powers, and Shax hurtling into the Manor.
Several of the people screamed, and the 'guide' chuckled, "Scares 'em every time."
All this however, was lost on Darmuid. His mind was currently in Nowhereville trying to process the fact that not only was mom dead, so were his aunts. And also the fact that magick was apparently exposed, and evil had the Upper Hand.
His conjectured this from the fact that the people on the tour wereobviously non-witches. That much was simple to guess, anyway. If they had been witches, they wouldn't need to be lectured on the history of the Charmed Ones.
Around a million history books on that subject took care of that pretty well, Darmuid thought wryly.
History, especially 'History of Magick' was one of Darmuid's sore points. As far as he was concerned, the subject belonged to bins.
But, there were far more pressing matters at hand, like for example, the demons who now roamed freely, and who were arrogant (and powerful) enough to go around strutting around the ancestral house of the Charmed Ones.
Sure they might no longer be there, but what of the rest of the Halliwells? Are they all dead too? Darmuid thought, and unbidden, tears came to his eyes.
And as if to disprovethis horrible theory of his, his eyes fell on one of the tour group. His jaw fell open in shock.
"Ch-" he began to shout out his brother's name, and cut himself short, only to realize that it wasn't necessary- in this place he was no more than a phantom. The people here wouldn't see him even if he jumped up and down in front of them butt naked.
So he chose to study his brother. On a superficial level, he looked pretty much the same. He had gained a little more weight since the last time that he'd seen him (Darmuid shuddered involuntarily at the memory), so now he just looked thin, and not emaciated. So that was a little progress.
But when Darmuid actually studied Chris, he knew that this Chris was nothing like his Chris. His eyes… they looked so haunted. Like he knew things that he wished that he hadn't. And he looked so burdened. Like the fate of the world depended of him.
And there was pain. Huge, incalculable, unbearable pain. Not the kind that just makes you want to cry, but the kind that makes you feel that even breathing is a huge burden.
Not that the Halliwells were alien to pain, far from it. And Chris wasn't an exception. Let's just say that being alien to pain and being a Halliwell are just downright contradictory notions.
But the pain that Darmuid saw in Chris's eyes then, it was beyond anything that he'd ever experienced, and he knew in his heart that no one in his family, albeit they too had had their share of pain, had borne this kind of agony.
And that hurt Darmuid deeply. Although this wasn't the Chris that he knew, it didn't change the fact that he was still his brother. And seeing his brother in so much pain… he'd rather be tortured by every single demon alive.
Focusing back onto what he was seeing (as agonizing as this was, he knew that this premonition was given to him for a purpose. As a witch he didn't believe in coincidences.), he saw that the entire tour group had left the kitchen, save Chris and another woman, whom Darmuid seemed to vaguely recollect.
A demon shimmered in then, probably one of those god-forsaken guards (he still had issues with the demons-in-control-of-the-Manor thing), and told the two inmates of the room gruffly, "Hey, you two, what're you doing here?"
The woman had her back to the demon, and her front to Darmuid, so the witch could see what the demon couldn't.
For, as the demon neared, the woman conjured an athame into her hand. "Wait for it…" Darmuid heard her mutter.
At the precise moment, she swung around, plunging the nine inch long piece of steel into the demon and vanquishing him in a flash of flames.
She's good, Darmuid thought appreciatively.
"Sometimes I forget who you are, Bianca." Chris told the woman, (whose name was apparently Bianca) in a way that implied that he was happy about what she was, and wasn't happy about it at the same time. Complicated aren't you? Darmuid thought of his brother.
"Who I was, Chris, before I met you." Bianca corrected him quietly. They made their way to the basement.
Upon reaching their destination, Chris looked at Bianca, and grinned his trade mark melt-all-the-chicks-to-putty grin, and asked her, "So, what do we do now?"
Darmuid groaned. Some things never change!
Bianca smirked at Chris, "We wait.", and began to unbutton her top.
"For cryin' out loud people!" Darmuid shouted to none in particular, and looked away like a gentleman.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, Chris and Bianca made their way to the attic, with Darmuid on their heels, not unlike a disapproving parent.
Once inside the attic, Darmuid immediately noticed that the Book of Shadows was missing from its podium, and instead it'd been replaced by a flickering hologram.
What the hell! Darmuid thought, had evil gotten it too? Nah, that can't happen, he began to reason with himself, the Book won't endure any evil.
But, a small smug voice reminded him, neither can a demon kill a Charmed One so easily, and Chris always had healing powers, and Wyatt isn't supposed to be evil. But in this premonition, all that actually happened.
"Will you be able to summon it from him?" Bianca's question, tinged with anger, was meant for Chris, but it also served the purpose of jarring Darmuid from his thoughts.
He also realized something else. Demons didn't have the Book of Shadows, Wyatt did, but, unfortunately, it didn't seem to be a good thing.
Chris nodded. "But we won't have much time; he'll notice it's gone almost immediately. I don't know if I can do this Bianca." Clearly, Chris was suffering from a distinct lack of confidence.
"Yes, you can. In fact, if anyone can, it's you." She told him soothingly, letting him draw strength from her. He needed it, badly.
"You'll save the future, for you, for us. You will, if you wanna marry me."
Darmuid's eyes widened at this revelation. Bianca was Chris' fiancée?
Chris smiled at that, and asked, "You sure I'll still have my powers when I get there?"
"Yeah, you will, the spell will take care of that." Bianca answered him. Then, pulling out a piece of chalk, she drew the Triquetra on the attic wall. Darmuid's brow furrowed, as he started thinking. What were they trying to pull off, exactly?
"Right," Chris said, pulling out a scrap of paper from his pocket, and began to read a spell, "I call upon the Ancient Powers
To aid us in this darkest hour
Let the Book return to this place
Claim refuge in its right place"
With a thump, the Book of Shadows landed on its accustomed place. "Hurry, find the spell before he realizes!" Bianca urged Chris, and even as he started to flip through the Book, demons began to shimmer in, left, right and centre.
Bianca began to fight them off. Granted, she was good, excellent, even, but she was starting to get overpowered by the demons' sheer numbers.
"Bianca!" Chris yelled, momentarily forgetting what he was supposed to be doing.
But Bianca yelled right back at him, "Don't worry about me! I'll be fine, just do what we came here to do!"
Chris nodded, and stiffened his resolve, he glanced at the page he had arrived, and chanted the spell,
"Hear these words, hear this rhyme,
Heed the hope within my mind,
Send me back to where I'll find
What I wish in space and time."
In response to the witch's magickal plea, a portal opened up right on the triquetra on the wall, into which Chris jumped, and Darmuid felt his surroundings melt yet again.
This was turning out to be one hell of a premonition, all right!
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