Neurotic
A story of Christopher Perry Halliwell
Disclaimer: I'm just a-playing in the supermarket that is Charmed. A supermarket in which I do not give out any money, but nor do I get any money in return.
Chapter The Fourth
A demon was close. He could sense it.
Running his coarse, work-wearied fingers along the smooth length of the athame, he poised on the corner of the building, waiting for his prey.
His lip twisted as the demon crashed around the corner, clad foot to toe in black, fangs gleaming. Innocent crushed in his arms, one spiky hand clamped over her terrified mouth, clumps of peroxide blonde hair coming in tufts from her head.
The demon made the mistake of lifting up one hand. The girl screamed.
He cursed, and dropped down lower, hoping that her scream had not attracted more... unwanted company. It definitely made the demon worse. Fury flashed across its twisted, burned face, and the crimson slits of its eyes burned in anger. It yanked the girl into the air as if she was naught but a rag doll.
He drew his hand back to throw the athame, and then his body tensed as a figure crashed around the corner. A handful of foreign curses gurgled and died in his throat, and he bit his tongue as he returned to his crouch. The figure was another nothing of a girl, too slight to do any real damage. Brown hair swept up into the latest fashion, gauzy clothing that clung to her curvy frame, flimsy high-heeled sandals that were no use in the dank San Francisco alley. He despaired until he saw her dark brown eyes flash with anger.
"You! Leave her be!"
The woman's voice carried stridently in the dark, damp place. The demon growled, and flung the blonde in his hands to the ground. A sickening crunch filled the air. He could see blood flood from the broken body. He winced, and quietly watched the brunette face down the demon. Passion flooded her elfin face.
"I've left her. You look a more tasty morsel," the demon ground out.
"Paige!"
He blinked as the woman yelled out the name. He briefly - irrationally - wondered if she knew the demon, until a swirl of blue energy circled down next to her. Two women appeared. A heavily pregnant woman with long brown hair and a darker haired woman in even skimpier clothing than the first woman.
Whitelighter, he recognised in fascination as he stared openly at the young not-pregnant girl that had arrived, her skin pale to the point of translucency. The women moved to stand in a group of three, and he briefly noticed the pregnant woman held a scrap of paper out stridently. They started to chant.
"Book, Candle, Magic Bell. Hear our words, heed our spell."
The demon flung a firefall forwards, but the Whitelighter brought up one hand reflexively. "Fireball!" she yelled.
The demon was flung backwards, the fireball changing his direction in midair, both crashing into the wall. It clambered to its feet, ready to charge. The women - witches! - continued to chant their spell.
"Creeper you will creep no more, leave this world that you abhor."
The demon shrieked in agony, its spiked hands clamping around its own head. A high pitched sound filled the air, and it took him several moments to realise that it was emanating from the demon. A wave of heat flashed through the air, startling him, but he watched despite the horrendous heat as the demon exploded from the inside.
Creeper guts plastered the dank alley. In fascination, he held his spot, and watched as they all ran over to the blonde.
"Is she-" the youngest asked, fear in her face. The Witch-Whitelighter – for Whitelighters did not have that power - bent over, taking the girl's slim wrist in her own, checking for a pulse. She looked up at the other two women, her face impassive as she shook her head.
"Barely a pulse," the Witch-Whitelighter murmured, her voice still carrying upwards in the still air. Anguish flashed across her pale face. "If Leo was here-"
"He'd tell you to stop moping your sorry ass around and give it a go again," the pregnant woman commanded, turning her face away so that the Witch-Whitelighter didn't see the sadness that flickered across her face.
The Whitelighter shuddered, and held her hands above the blonde, creasing her face as she did so. "I- I can't, it's too-"
"Paige-" the first woman said. "Just give it a try. Believe in yourself."
He wondered for a brief moment why the first witch was talking about a page, and then realised it was the young witch's name.
"Phoebe," Paige returned, stringing out the syllable.
He supposed it was the first woman's name.
"It can't hurt to try," the pregnant witch said, her hands on her hips while her brown eyes quivered with concern.
Paige turned to the girl, closing her eyes. Searching for something.
He felt his heart constrict as nothing happened, feeling sorry for the witches. It never was a good feeling to lose something, especially if somewhere in you there was the power to prevent it...
Then a spark of something shivered over the girl, a golden warmth he could somehow see as well as feel. It spluttered, then died away, but it was enough. The blonde was still battered and broken, but she was out of danger. For now.
"Phoebe, Piper-" Paige stepped back, stunned, staring at her hands.
Piper must be the pregnant one, he realised. Three P's… Realisation sank into his gut. The Charmed Ones! The Halliwell sisters. Disco!
"Unnggh," Paige managed, startled. "Uh, Pheebs, I'll take Piper back to the house. Can you call an ambulance?"
Phoebe - the first witch onto the scene - nodded. "Yeah, sure."
She smiled fondly at Paige, who returned the genuine smile. Paige stepped backwards, holding out her arms. The pregnant woman stepped into her arms, like it was a hug. They disappeared in another shimmer of lights.
Now alone, Phoebe held the blonde's hand as the young woman slowly regained consciousness.
"Oh-my-god, oh-my-god-" The blonde started to babble.
"Shhh," Phoebe breathed, a smile on her perfect face. "You're okay now."
"What the hell was that!"
"Looked like one of the those PCP mutated freaks," Phoebe lied eloquently. "You know, the report in the newspaper that warned of the deformed gangs, addicted to those deadly drugs. But don't worry. My sister and I kicked him around a little. You'll be fine."
The blonde coughed, looking at Phoebe with brimming, worried eyes. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I could have died." A bewildered smile flickered over her pale face. "I almost thought I had."
"You must have a guardian angel looking out for you somewhere," Phoebe quipped, her eyes warm with the humour of the situation.
"Hey- aren't you- you're Ask Phoebe!" The blonde stared. "Phoebe Halliwell, right?" Phoebe barely had time to nod. "Oh my gosh, I don't believe this. I got rescued by Phoebe Halliwell! Not enough saving a zillion personal lives, huh?"
"I'm a hands-on kind of girl on occasion," Phoebe returned, twisting as she heard sounds and saw some lights. "Looks like the cavalry's come."
The time a lot of people came was the time to get away. He looked fondly down on the scene, having found out enough to get into a position to find out more about the three witches. They were Halliwells; exactly what he needed.
His eyes clouded over as he pocketed the athame, and started to scale down the wall. As he padded down the adjoining alley, to obscure himself in the welcoming blanket of darkness, he repeated that hopeful thought. His promise echoed back to him, the promise he'd made in the future. The reason he was here in the past.
I'll find him for you, my Lord, he had vowed. The blood-traitor Christopher Halliwell.
It was in the morning when the door clattered open, and a severely disgruntled Phoebe Halliwell clambered through.
"Stupid police report," she yelled out into the hallway. Two heads poked around the doorway of the living room to wince in sympathy with her. Not in total overwhelming sympathy, mind; both Paige and Piper had gotten quite an earful down the phone the night before from the police station, when the police officers on duty had told her the paperwork would take until morning.
"There's some pancakes in the kitchen, honey," Piper called through. Scowling, Phoebe stomped in her pretty high-heeled sandals through to the kitchen, picking up a stack of warm pancakes and a cup of coffee before stomping back through to the living room and flumping down into a chair, scowling prettily at her sisters, and baby Wyatt, sat in his playpen.
"Stupid police," Phoebe grumbled. Paige and Piper exchanged a glance, having heard words along a similar theme on the phone the night before.
"Is she okay?" Paige asked.
"The innocent?" Phoebe nodded. "Yeah. Darryl popped his head in and told me she was all right."
"Darryl did?" Piper's eyebrows rose. "Wow."
"I think he still approves of what we do, even if he doesn't approve of us," Phoebe said slowly. "I felt a lot of… mixed feelings from him."
"It's got to be hard," Piper mused. "I mean, we have enough troubles with it, struggling with having a normal life, and we at least have powers to protect ourselves against any attack."
Paige leant over and stole a pancake from Phoebe's plate too quickly for Phoebe to respond. Phoebe settled for glaring at Paige as she nibbled daintily on the food.
"Speaking of powers," Phoebe said. "When are we going to call Chris back?"
Piper looked at her sharply as if her younger sister had gone completely crazy. "What the hell do you mean? How about never." Piper glanced across at Paige for moral support, and recoiled a little when the youngest Halliwell sister looked torn between both sisters. "Paige! Don't say you agree with Phoebe! He put Wyatt in danger, plain and simple. How do we know him coming back isn't what turns Wyatt evil?"
Paige shuffled, uncomfortable. "I just… Well…" She floundered a little. "We don't. But isn't the saying, keep your friends close and your enemies closer?"
Piper exhaled slowly. "Hmm. So you're saying we should run a demon day-care centre?"
"He isn't a demon," Phoebe said. "But if this is your view, this is your view. If you think he's a demon, then who are we to disagree?"
"Yeah, I might whip up a Chris vanquishing potion," Paige quipped.
Piper opened her mouth to retort, feeling overwhelmed and starting to feel very hormonal when the doorbell went. "You two are saved by that doorbell and you both know it," Piper grouched as Paige yelled "I'll get it!" and scampered to the door. "You were about to get your asses collectively kicked by a very pregnant lady."
"Hi, Victor!"
Piper and Phoebe exchanged a look at Paige's greeting, and they twisted to look up at the doorway.
"Dad!" Phoebe yelled, forgetting her fatigue and lurching to her feet, running to give her dad a hug. Victor smiled into her hair until she let him go, beaming sheepishly at her enthusiastic welcome.
"I'd give you the same reception, but baby number two won't let me," Piper said, a broad smile on her face regardless of the temper she was starting to work herself up into.
"Yeah," Paige said. "We were actually wondering yesterday - actually, just after you came last - if Chris got it a little wrong and that it's this baby that gets turned evil and is exacting its evil deeds from her womb."
"I was a big fan of that theory," Piper deadpanned at Victor's sudden screwed up expression. "Anyway, not that I'm pleased to see you so soon, and so frequently, 'cause it's great. But, uh, what are you doing here?"
"Well," Victor said slowly, "I wasn't planning to come up for a couple of days because I have been coming a bit frequently. You really do have to indulge me, though, 'cause it's fantastic living so close to you all." Phoebe smiled and snuggled into his side a little. "Anyway, I heard on the grapevine that maybe all three of you were free today, so I wondered if maybe you'd want to indulge me even more."
"What do you mean?" Phoebe asked. "I just spent all night at the police station, so I'm a little sleepy…"
Alarmed, Victor looked at her. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, we saved an innocent last night," Paige explained, "and Phoebe got trapped up by bureaucratic nonsense for hours."
"Aw…" Victor looked down at his feet, sadly.
"Naw, who needs sleep anyway!" Phoebe protested suddenly, seeing her father look a little downbeat. "What did you have in mind?"
Victor shuffled a little. "Well, I know you don't really want to go out much, Piper, because you're so close… five weeks is it?" Piper nodded. "So, I was wondering about the carnival that's in town today." He paused, as if dubious as to whether it would be a good suggestion or not. "I mean, Wyatt would love it. And I made a couple of enquiries, and Ava Nicolae is running one of her clinics right by the park."
"Oh, gosh, yeah, I heard about that," Phoebe gushed.
"You really thought this through properly, didn't you?" Piper said, as if amazed. She looked slowly down at Wyatt, who was looking a little bored. "Well… Yeah, why not."
"Paige? Phoebe?" Victor said.
"Sure," Paige said, while Phoebe nodded and gave an excited squeal. "I'd love to pop by and see Ava, too. Maybe I can volunteer for her again."
"Righty-ho, Wyatt, did you hear that? We're going to the circus!" Piper bent over carefully and picked up Wyatt. "You're getting to be quite the heffalump, you know that?"
Victor laughed at the scene. While the girls got their coats and Wyatt's travelling equipment, he felt for his cell phone in his pocket, and when they had left the house and bundled up into Piper's car, and had started to speed away, Victor hit the speed-dial button for the last number dialled, let it ring three times, and then closed it down to focus on keeping the girls away from the house for a good few hours at least.
Chris' brow furrowed as he poured over his Map. The column of possibilities was getting slower, and it was harder to erase vanquished demons as it was taking him a long time to find out which demons were vanquished now he wasn't with the girls.
He resisted looking at the clock, knowing the old adage well: a watched clock never boils. At least, that was Piper's version while he was growing up, and he suspected it was probably due to the number of times a demon had ended up slamming into their grandfather clock at the manor.
Deliberation over whether to move the Ferkat imps to the dangerous column (harmless by themselves, but susceptible to mind domination by a number of higher demons, and quite lethal when hunting in packs) took his mind away from the clock, and Chris let himself trust his grandfather. They had bonded so well in the last two weeks that even their movements around the small apartment were fluidic and like clockwork.
Like just after The Event, Chris thought sadly, and was about to push that thought away when he realised just what he had thought. The Event. Suddenly his mom's death was just another euphemism to him. Disgusted, he pushed himself away from the table, his vision swimming slightly. He was starting to use code words so much, and to change what he called things in his head, that he was starting to forget the real words. But you're here, away from her, and Event or none, you're nowhere close enough to prevent it.
Had the phone not gone then, Chris didn't want to know where his thoughts would have taken him. Eyes widening in realisation, he ran back to the table and bundled up the Map, thoughtfully taking the pen at the same time before orbing to the manor. It was still and unoccupied for the first time in forever. Chris was beginning to wonder whether risking going over in the dead of the night was worth the wrath of the sisters if they discovered him, and was glad he didn't have to risk it now.
Heading briskly over to the Book of Shadows, Chris rolled the Map out on the floor, quickly weighing the corners down with some protection crystals. Sitting cross-legged on the floor with the Book on his lap, he happily started to fill in some more of his columns, cross-referencing the details with his own memories of growing up and tales he'd heard from his aunts and mom.
He was so obsessed with his work that he didn't notice that he wasn't alone any more. He did, however, notice in the end when Leo coughed heavily. Chris looked up sheepishly at the imposing Elder, and really, really, really hoped his anal-retentive father would keep his vows of pacifism.
"I think," Leo said heavily, "that you'd better explain to me what you're doing here."
