Chris wandered down the street beside Charlotte, the pair deep in conversation about their findings. Charlotte had called earlier that morning to tell Chris that her apartment was having its monthly inspection and she had been asked to vacate for the afternoon. She had been more intrigued by his cousin's vision, her brow furrowing when he told her the news.

"So at some point in the future, you're going to shove me into a closet?"

"Apparently." Chris said with a smile, ducking around the people in the busy sidewalk. "Someone comes after your powers, which means you do have them and they are important enough that somebody wants them. It was progress, actually, despite somewhat terrifying that my parents started asking questions."

Charlotte stumbled when a man in a business suit shoved past her and she flipped her middle finger up at his retreating back with a muttered word that Chris didn't catch. When she had composed herself again, she looked over at him, "So, why are you keeping this a secret?"

"Because I want to do this on my own. I will tell them, just once I know more. This is my other self… I'd like to find out about him myself, you know? Besides you, of course. You're my guide."

Charlotte chuckled and kept walking, prompting Chris to ask her about her findings. She looked around and pointed to a small coffee shop on the corner, setting herself down in one of the white wicker chairs and pulling out his journal.

"Did you do anything to this journal before you gave it to me? Or your parents did something to it before they gave it to you?"

Chris frowned and rapped his fingers on the table, "Uhm… no? Why?"

Charlotte flipped to the several pages she had marked and opened the book wide, "Run your finger down the middle there. There's little jagged marks and the story skips around so much… there's pages missing, Chris. And if your parents didn't remove it and you didn't remove it… I'm thinking your other self did. So why?"

Chris frowned and took the book, touching each page as she had instructed. Admittedly, he had agreed that the journal did jump around from thought to thought, but his current self had never been great with consistent journal keeping, so he had brushed it off as nothing.

A blonde waitress sashayed over, batting her eyelashes at Chris as she asked for his order. He hadn't eaten all morning and his stomach growled in excitement as he ordered a bowl of fries and a Coke. Charlotte ordered the same, much to the chagrin of the waitress, who rolled her eyes before wandering off.

"The entries are particularly removed after you mention Wyatt taking over, but before you come to the past, which got me thinking. The thing you keep talking about, how it will help you and save you… you don't say what it is. You also would think that for someone who keeps such a detailed journal, you would have said how you got into the past, yeah?"

Chris's eyes widened in realisation and he grinned, feeling a total rush of happiness to Charlotte in that moment. How had he not thought of that before? Charlotte smiled back and slid the diary forward, Chris finally seeing the several dozen plastic sticky notes attached to pages. She slid her finger to a pale green note and flipped to the page.

"I think it started here. This was the first page you ever started talking about going into the past. It's only briefly mentioned but this is where I think most of the pages are torn out. After this, everything becomes really patchy. At first I thought you were just busy, but later you keep referencing how much you've written down when there's actually nothing there."

Their food was set on the table by the waitress, who smiled her ruby lips thinly before walking away. Charlotte snagged two fries between her fingers and bit into one thoughtfully. Charlotte continued to flick through the diary, one passage catching her attention and she propped one elbow on the table and settled her chin into her open palm.

"Chris? Could I ask something?"

The boy looked up from his plate of fries and nodded offhandedly, not sure what Charlotte could want.

"Uhm… Bianca?"

Chris stopped with a fry halfway to his mouth and looked at her, seeing the hesitance all over her face. She looked as though she had crossed a line with the question, so he gestured slightly for her to continue.

"Have you met her? I mean, in this life?"

She had felt strange reading Chris' personal thoughts and feelings about his girlfriend, but she had been desperate to know if Chris had sought her out in the current world. He had spoken so passionately about her and Charlotte had read the details of their first encounter. Bianca had been fleeing a pack of rogue demons when Chris had saved her, sweeping her up and taking her into the Resistance. Their relationship had progressed several months later when Chris had waged a twelve page battle with his thoughts in the journal about relationships in the current world situation.

"No. I want to, but how do you explain to someone "hey, by the way, we were engaged in a different reality and you died after betraying me for my brother and turning good again in the end sort of."

Charlotte choked on her French fry and thumped her chest, trying to clear her throat, "WHAT!"

Chris snickered softly and dipped a fry into the ketchup bowl beside his plate, "Did you not get to that bit yet?"

"No…. I.. okay. Fiancée. Betrayal. I got it."

Charlotte pushed her food around and Chris drank deeply from his glass, "Now that I think about it, the missing pages make sense. My relationship with her was pretty erratic in the journal… maybe I can know more?"

Charlotte nodded but frowned slightly, "Do you think you would ever go looking for her? I mean, if you thought she could handle it?"

Chris wiped his fingers on a napkin and shrugged. It was a question he had put a lot of thought into. Sometimes, when he saw a tall brunette from a distance, a brief flare of something curled in his stomach and the potential of meeting Bianca made his heart race. It had never been her, and it was something he was thankful for.

"Maybe one day." He said finally, "But if I told her everything and she did believe me, would our relationship just be forced by out past? Maybe the love we had was dependent on the time period and the atmosphere we were in. There are a lot of questions to be asked."

Charlotte nodded in understanding before tucking away an errant strand of hair and turning more pages, "I haven't managed to get all the way through the journal yet, but I'm hoping you say something about the pages at some point."

"I might," Chris reasoned, "I mean, when I read it I wasn't looking for anything so who knows what I missed."

Charlotte flicked through the sticky-noted pages and she heard a soft snort that made her look up with a playful frown, "What's so funny?"

Chris drank deeply from his glass and pointed to the journal, "The sticky notes. Do you have a system or what?"

Charlotte chuckled to herself and closed the journal, "No real system, just anything I thought was important on a page I put a little note so I could find it again. There's a lot of information in here and I kind of…" she trailed off awkwardly but Chris prompted her to continue.

"I kind of feel like I know some of this already? I mean, reading this journal I'm getting huge déjà vu. It's insane."

Chris paused thoughtfully and then shrugged, "Your premonition power, maybe?"

"You mean the one we're not even sure I have?" she murmured dryly before closing her eyes, "Sorry. Uncalled for. I just want to be able to help you."

Chris smiled sadly and leaned back in his chair. "If you're not doing anything right now, would you like to come with me to the manor? I'll have to orb in and make sure it's empty, but there's something I want to show you that might help."

Chris finished his plate of fries and leaned closer, "There's a book called the Book of Shadows. It's something that has been passed down in my family for generations; it's a book of spells and demons and basically a how-to guide for a witch. I'm hoping if you flip through the pages you might trigger a premonition or something."

Charlotte's eyes widened at the thought of an entire magical book, but she sighed softly, "Maybe not right away. I have to make my rent payment by.." she glanced at her watch, "three and I still need to make sure my paycheck came through. But after that it should be fine. That gives you time to check out your house as well though, right? Give me the address and I can come by once I'm done."

Chris gave the address and Charlotte scribbled it out on a napkin, the curly slant of her handwriting marking the cloth before she tucked it into her purse and continued with her fries, "Is there anything else you wanted to talk about since we're here?"

Thankful she had asked, Chris seized his chance to broach a subject he had been wanting to touch on since she had made the revelation, but he had never had the chance.

"What happens in your dreams about me?" Chris asked quietly as he looked up at Charlotte and moved his head to flick away some stubborn strands of hair. Charlotte picked at a few of her fries and shrugged noncommittally.

"Stuff."

"Charlie… I need to know. It's not weird, okay?"

Charlotte sighed and dropped a few fries back into the bowl before wiping her fingers on a napkin, "They started when I came to San Francisco. I'm in this… white room and there's people laying everywhere. I think they're…" she paused and looked around before leaning in a lower her voice, "dead. To be honest. And I'm on the floor and my head is pounding but I look up and there's a boy… he's fighting somebody I can't see. And he's wearing this leather jacket and his hair's a mess and then he… he runs over to me and wraps his arms around mine and we disappear in blue sparkles. At first I thought I was going crazy but then I met you and I… you save me from something, I guess."

Chris locked his fingers and nodded slowly, trying to process her dream and what it could possibly mean. He must have been too quiet, however, because Charlotte nudged him lightly and offered him a smile.

"Could you say something?" she asked softly, "It's kind of awkward to say I've been dreaming about you and then have you do that dark and silent type thing."

Chris smirked and tilted his head to the side, "Dark and silent type thing, huh? Sorry, I just… we're clearly connected. I just need to find out how and where."

"Oh God, you don't think we're related, do you?" Charlotte spoke up suddenly, her face twisted into an unhappy grimace.

Chris snorted and leaned back in his chair as he ran a casual hand through his hair, "I seriously doubt it, but would that be so bad?"

"Well, kind of."

"Why?"

"Because you have a nice ass," Charlotte said with an offhanded shrug, "If we're related, it makes it weird for me to enjoy staring at it."

Chris gaped, completely thrown off guard by her response. Charlotte seemed to notice and she giggled, "Wow, if I knew it was that easy to shut you up, I would have said something sooner." She teased as she reached into her purse to remove several notes.

"I need to make my payments, if we're done."

Chris finished gaping and shook his head in disbelief. He wasn't used to women being so… forward about things. He reached for his own wallet and waved Charlotte's hand away as she went to put the bills on the table.

"No, I've got this. It's the least I can do since I can barely help with this power issue. I'll check out the manor and send you a message. Drop by whenever you've got the time."

Charlotte smiled warmly and put the notes back into her purse, but kept her eyes on Chris.

"Are you okay?" she asked quietly.

Chris nodded, but then shrugged, "I… I don't know. I just want answers."

Charlotte stood up and slung the bag over her shoulder and slid her sunglasses down to cover her blue eyes, "And I promise that I'll get them for you. No matter what."

Chris smile and stood up beside her, "..thank you, Charlie. I mean it."

"No problem." She replied with a light wave before she headed off down the street and disappeared into the bustle of people.


It was past four in the afternoon when he was expecting Charlotte. His mother and father were working and Wyatt was off with some girl he had been seeing, so he had told Charlotte to drop by at any point, just not at the front door. He knew he was being paranoid, but it was hard to have a secret stay a secret in this household. The last thing he needed was his nosy neighbour telling his mother that there had been a girl on the porch when she was out.

The back door of the manor swung closed as a sweaty and panting Chris jogged inside. He'd enjoyed spending some time alone out in the garden before taking a run around the block. He figured Charlotte would be dropping by soon so his time had been cut short, though he wasn't going to complain. The teen thundered upstairs to his room and pushed the door open as he stretched his arms.

Chris let the door swing shut behind him and he tugged off the sticky second skin his shirt had formed, sighing in relief at the cool breeze on his chest. He opened one eye in confusion. Breeze? His window was wide open and he clearly recalled shutting it due to the throbbing of his left thumb. He and that window had never been on good terms.

"Hi."

Chris jumped and raised a hand, ready to propel any demonic creature through the nearest wall. Charlotte caught the hand and smile sheepishly, "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I found something."

Chris's interest peaked and he frowned suddenly, turning to the window with a raised eyebrow. "Is that how you got in here?"

"You told me not to use the front door."

Chris's lips twitched at the corners as Charlotte tossed her bag onto his bed and climbed onto it, flicking through the notebook in her hands. Chris followed after her, but not before closing the window and staring at the latch. He'd been sure he'd locked the window, to be honest. Charlotte opened the notebook to where she had placed a red sticky tag and beckoned Chris closer with a crook of her finger.

"Right here. Bianca came back for me. She has been working with Wyatt and I won't admit how much that hurts me. Was she working for him the night she came with me to the manor? Or in those months where she had left me? Her being back here worries me, how did she do it? I have my theories, but each is worse than the last. I'm just praying that…" She stopped speaking and turned the page, "And here is where it cuts off. Your next entry is the same day; Bianca came back here by a spell. She can only stay temporarily and it has nothing close to the power of my return. I want to say that makes me happy, that I believe everyone is safe, but I know it isn't true. I need to go back. I need to make sure the circumstances of my timetravel stay hidden and safe."

"Wherever the pages are torn out, you seem to be leading up to discussing something important about how you got back. And here, you're worried that Bianca used the same thing you did to come and get you, but when you find out she used a spell, you're happy. I'm thinking that all these missing pages are about how you got into the past. So either you removed them, or…"

"Or…"

"Or maybe a demon did and now has the secrets about how to get into the past?" Charlotte suggested, "but that's not what's bothering me. I thought witches could time travel? Like, it wasn't a big deal. Whatever you did must have been something… bigger."

"Yeah…" Chris said slowly, his eyes darting to the door as though someone would emerge in the empty house.

"What if maybe that's what is causing it? The flashbacks you're having might be some kind of side effect of the spell? Without the pages… I think I'm stuck. Chris, I…"

"…you?"

"I don't know how any of this is supposed to tell me why you're having flashbacks. I mean, I guess your past life is crossing over into your dreams but there isn't any reason for you to be having so much pain. Maybe we could find the missing pages and that will help, but… nothing is adding up here."

Chris paced back and forth before sinking down onto his bed, "Maybe we just need the rest of the puzzle pieces. Let's go check the Book and maybe you'll get a premonition that will lead us somewhere. Magic brought us together, there has to be a reason, even if we're not seeing it."

Charlotte nodded before Chris watched her eyes stray a little and she smiled, "So, are you going to put a shirt on? I mean, I'm not complaining or anything but.."

Chris looked down and his cheeks flushed before he jumped up and tugged a white shirt over his head sheepishly.

"Uh, sorry. You caught me off guard with that whole coming in through my bedroom window thing."

Charlotte smiled and stood up from the bed and reached over for her bag, "Yeah, sorry about that. But you did tell me the front door was off-limits."

Chris just smiled to himself and headed out of his room and beckoned Charlotte to follow him. He had no doubts that she was a good witch, but if she had any bad intentions, it would show. The Book's powers had grown over time; so much so that now the Bok could defend itself, not just from demons, but from those who held bad intentions when approaching it. Considering many demons in the past had found their way around the defence mechanism, the added safety had helped his mother and aunts sleep at night.

The door to the attic opened easily under his touch and he stood aside to let Charlotte see the room in its entirety. When he had been in his early teens, his mother had decided to make the attic "ground zero" for all kinds of magical activity. Unless the potion specifically required it, the kitchen was off limits to potion making since that one time his mother's brand new, renovated kitchen had been covered in purple goo by his Aunt Phoebe in a botched potion attempt.

Pre-made potions were stacked on each shelf and squirreled away in various chests. Magical tomes stood side by side in the bookshelves; charms and baubles hanging from hooks and every surface where they could catch. In the centre of the room, placed on the same pedestal it had always stood upon, was the Book of Shadows.

"This… is what I wanted to show you."

Charlotte was still gazing around the room, clearly shocked by everything as she tried to drink in the details. Chris smiled and removed the Book as he headed over to the plush green loveseat and settled in.

"Are you coming?"

"…you're a witch." Charlotte said finally, her lips parted and eyes wide. "An honest to God witch."

Chris laughed and patted the seat next to him, "Yes, Charlie. And so are you. We might even be able to get your powers working if you come over here."

Charlotte didn't need to be told again, all but flinging herself onto the couch and staring at the large book with wide eyes. Chris handed it to her and she seemed hesitant to take it, so he settled it into her lap with a raised eyebrow.

"It's just a Book, Charlie."

His mother would have his head for saying that, but explaining to Charlotte that this was more than just a book might just send her into another frenzy of "oh wow" and he was really hoping to keepher grounded for the moment.

Charlotte flipped through each page in awe, her fingers stroking down the beautiful illustrations and various captions. Chris saw the way her eyes lingered on the spells and potions and the way she paused at each new demonic face. Seeing the Book had to be overwhelming for her, he had no doubt. The sound of rifling pages stopped and he looked down to find her stopped on a page about The Seer.

"Oh, don't worry. My mom and aunts vanquished her a long time ago. You're not a Seer like her; the Book would have rejected you right away. Nothing evil can touch it."

He took the Book from her hands and paged through it before finding the information about premonitions and good witches. He handed it back with a reassuring smile, "This is more like you."

Charlotte crossed her legs up on the couch and began to read. Chris noted how her nose scrunched up slightly as she did so, the freckles dotting her face making the picture adorable to see. Charlotte tucked back her hair and looked up from the entry.

"So I see the past, present and future?"

"Kind of. See, every power kind of generates differently in witches. Just because we have the same powers doesn't mean we can generate them the same. I have telekinesis, but mine is strictly moving objects from point A to point B. Some witches can transport them differently. Like, they can move a coffee pot towards them and having it fill up their cup for them. My aunt's precognition could be totally different from yours. And anyway-"

Chris cut off abruptly when the sound of an opening door downstairs echoed up into the attic. Panic seized in his chest and he pulled Charlotte up by the hand, ready to orb her out.

"Christopher? Are you home?"

He breathed a sigh of relief when his grandfather's voice filtered up the stairwell. Charlotte still looked worried and Chris pressed a finger to his lips and guided her back down.

"I'll be back," he whispered before thundering down the stairs. His grandfather wouldn't question why he was up in the attic and he wouldn't even consider going up there himself, so he and Charlotte were safe.

"Hey grandpa," he greeted warmly, squeezing tight into the hug Victor offered him. His grandfather pulled back from the embrace and smiled.

"Sorry to come right in but your mother told me you were home and I should just drop by. I wanted to know if we could reschedule our lunch? Maybe for tomorrow, if you're free?"

Chris frowned, not liking where this was going. He and his grandfather had kept a fairly solid lunch schedule for years and he knew his grandfather had been having a few complications with his health lately.

"Grandpa? Is everything okay, are you sick? Do we need to talk about anything?"

"No, no, Chris I'm fine," he reassured his grandson. Chris was neurotic at the best of times, it was usually better to not give him any kind of idea that something could be wrong. "But as for stuff we should talk about… is there anything you think you need to share?"

Chris folded his arms over his chest and shrugged in what he hoped was a casual manner. It wasn't like he enjoyed keeping secrets from his grandfather, but if he knew about this one it was almost certain he would want to tell Piper.

"Not really. Everything's pretty normal."

A soft creak of the floorboards upstairs made Victor's eyebrow raise. He knew nobody besides Chris was supposed to be here, which meant there was one very possible explanation. And with the way his grandson had just reacted to his question, it was highly possible that his hunch was right.

"You know, Christopher," he began with a knowing smile, "It's not polite to keep a lady friend hidden upstairs."

Victor would give his grandson credit. If he hadn't been watching him at the exact moment he spoke, he would have missed the half second change of Chris' calm expression. In an instant, Chris's worry had returned to an impassive face and he was eyeing his grandfather coolly.

"I think you're getting old there, grandpa. Nobody's here but me."

Victor's eyebrow climbed higher and he tried to decide whether or not to continue beating around the bush or to just dive right in. Then again, his grandson had called him old. Time to dive right in.

"So you don't have a brunette up there who is about 5'8 with blue eyes and freckles? And you weren't outside her apartment building this morning around lunchtime?"

Chris' eyes widened and Victor smiled, "That's what I thought. Sweetheart?" he swaggered to the staircase and leaned up towards the attic, "You can come down now."

There was a long pause before the soft patter of footsteps began descending the stairs. The young woman Victor had seen with his grandson appeared at the top of the stairs, biting her lip and looking guiltily at Chris. Victor smiled and extended his hand.

"Victor Bennet. Christopher's grandfather."

The woman stepped down the final stairs and clasped his hand with her own.

"Charlotte Perry."

Victor frowned and looked at Chris, who now had his arms folded over his chest. "Not to do with me. Just… coincidence."

The word tasted wrong in his mouth. Nothing was coincidence. There had to be something more here and there probably was. Though that was his last problem to be thinking about now- now he had to worry about making sure his grandfather didn't tell his mother anything.

Victor let go of Charlotte's hand and she looked to the floor, unsure what to do. She knew Chris had wanted to keep this a secret, but she also knew the only person in the world he as closer to than his brother was his grandfather. Chris was the first one to break the silence.

"You can't tell mom."

"That you have a girlfriend?" Victor asked in confusion, "You're eighteen, Christopher, I think she expects-"

"I'm not his girlfriend." Charlotte interrupted, "I'm just… helping."

"Helping?"

The two fell into silence again and Victor sighed, realising it might be time for him to pull the 'grandfather card'. He straightened up and crossed his arms.

"Christopher…"

"I can't tell you anything if you're going to tell my mom. Sorry, that's not how it works." Chris replied stubbornly. Victor sighed and gestured to Charlotte.

"How about I don't tell your mother about your lady friend and you tell me everything? I don't care what the two of you are doing but as long as you have at least a tiny bit of adult participation… I won't tell your mother."

Chris paused in consideration, his eyes moving between Charlotte and his grandfather for a long time before he nodded and gestured for the two of them to move to the living room.

"I suppose that's fair."

The three of them settled in the living room and Victor watched his grandson expectantly; though cast his gaze to Charlotte every few moments. Chris launched into his explanation and Victor hung on his every word. The further the story progressed, the more he began to wonder if keeping his daughter out of the loop was a good thing. Chris seemed to sense this and tied up his explanation, breathing out heavily and gesturing to Charlotte.

"Magic found her for me. Magic is never wrong; it just might not work how you wanted it to. So once we find out about Charlotte and then some more about me, we'll be able to work out why I'm having these flashbacks."

"Christopher, if you're in ain-"

"I'm not."

As soon as the words left his mouth, a heated stab of pain rippled into the brain and he clenched the sofa arms tight. His grandfather, thankfully, didn't notice, but Chris saw the way Charlotte's hand twitched as though to grab his own. Victor leaned back in the chair and rubbed his forehead. His grandsons were going to be the death of him. They really were.

"Is that why you wanted to change our lunch date?" Chris asked suddenly, "You saw Charlotte and I this morning?"

"Well, yes," Victor admitted sheepishly, "It was a little strange to see you with a young woman, Chris. You normally tell me everything about your life…"

Chris hung his head and shrugged, "I just want some time to do this on my own, you know? Mom has protected me from everything since I was born."

Victor sighed heavily, but finally nodded. Chris had always been the most independent of all of his grandchildren and it was starting to really show. He turned to Charlotte, who had remained silent throughout the entire exchange and smiled warmly.

"You seem like a nice young woman… I hope you can help my grandson and keep him in line."

Charlotte giggled and Chris buried his face in his hands with a grumble that made Victor chuckle. "Well then, Christopher. I won't tell your mother about any of this; on the condition that… you keep me informed every step of the way. I want to know what you and Charlotte are finding out; I want to know when you break through on something and, most importantly, you will tell me before either of you go running headlong into a dangerous situation. Are we clear?"

Chris looked as though he was about to protest, but a casual eyebrow raise from his grandfather made him nod slowly and look over at Charlotte, who gave Victor a soft smile and nodded as well. Satisfied, Victor stood from the chair and eyed the grandfather clock.

"Well since we're working together on this now, your mother is planning on coming home in about ten minutes to surprise you. She feels bad that she bombarded you with questions the other day and…" Victor paused mid-sentence and eyed Charlotte, "..you're the girl, aren't you? The one in the closet…"

Charlotte clicked her tongue softly, "Apparently."

Victor shook his head slowly and looked back to address his grandson, "She's making your favourite meal and bought you that book you were eyeing in the store the other day. If you want to keep your friend a secret, I'd suggest orbing her out of here now."

A car pulled into the driveway and panic seized in Chris' chest. Victor waved a calming hand and smiled, "Go. I'll talk to your mother for a while and tell her you're just upstairs."

Chris took Charlotte's hands carefully and orbed away, praying that his grandfather would keep the secret like he had promised. Charlotte grumbled and leaned against a wall as soon as the orbs had disappeared from around her. "I don't like that, I don't like that," she mumbled. Chris smiled and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"Yeah, sorry about that. You'll get used to it, I promise."

Charlotte slid her key into the door and sighed, "So your grandfather knows, but that's not bad right? He'll keep it quiet and we can work in peace. Did you want to meet up again or should we just wait until one of us actually has something worthwhile?"

"Uh.. well, I'm not doing much right now so whenever you're free, if you have anything for me."

"I have work." Charlotte said with a casual shrug, "For the next week, actually. But I only do that nightshift so if you need me, I'll be around."

Chris smiled and made to walk away, but Charlotte's hand on his arm made him pause. He looked down at her hand and then met her eyes.

"Chris… call me, if you start having flashbacks, okay? I want to know."

Chris nodded and Charlotte squeezed his arm, "I mean it."

Her hand fell away from his and she stepped into her apartment, one hand braced on the door as she rested her head against it.

"Goodbye, Chris."


Phoebe pushed past the masses of people bustling through the streets of San Francisco. The Bay Mirror was doing a piece on fortune tellers and seers (she had chosen to ignore the sheer coincidence in the fact that they had asked her to cover it) and she was late for an appointment. The last five people she had seen were phonies; she could sense it from the moment her foot landed on the shag carpet in the overly perfumed rooms.

This woman had a small shop tucked away in the corner, a small bell sounding Phoebe's entrance. To her relief, the small store was not draped in crystal balls and magical knickknacks. An elderly woman bustled in from the back room and stopped immediately, her lips curling into a crinkled smile.

"Oh, child… you don't need my help to see the future. I can tell that from over here."

Phoebe stiffened, but kept her cool with a casual shrug, "Not sure what you mean. I'm Phoebe Halliwell, advice columnist and reporter for the Bay Mirror. We have an appointment?"

The woman chuckled and offered her hand out, the multitude of rings against her hand shining in the dim lighting. Her bangles clanked as she took Phoebe's hand and turned it over.

"No need for secrets with me, Ms Halliwell. I know who you are. I do all of my readings in the back, come with me."

Phoebe followed the woman through a beaded curtain with slight suspicion. She knew that she and her Charmed sisters were well known in magical circles and there was no need to mistrust everyone she came across, but there was no way she would go into this without some hesitation. As she settled down into the plush armchair, the woman in front of her began spreading tarot cards out across the table.

"My name is Valerie, Ms Halliwell. Before we begin, I have to ask… is there anything in particular you came here to find out tonight?"

Phoebe set a tape recorder on the table with a questioning smile. Valerie nodded, giving silent permission for Phoebe to record their encounter.

"Well, Valerie, the Mirror is doing a piece on Seers and Fortune Tellers and I thought I should see one before I write my piece. I'm not here for anything particular, but if there's anything you see that is important, please let me know."

Valerie chuckled softly and reached for Phoebe's hand, "Turn four cards from this pile."

The reading went much as Phoebe had been expecting. The woman clearly had a true gift, though it was different from her own. While Phoebe had premonitions, this woman sensed the changes and dangers in the atmosphere. Anyone could manipulate tarot or palm reading, but there was definitely something about this woman that was real. The clock chimed the end of the session and Phoebe reached for her recorder when Valerie's hand clenched around her wrist. Phoebe gasped and looked up to find Valerie's eyes glazed and staring into her own.

"Three sisters brought together by destiny. Torn apart by death. Reunited by fate. The man blessed by angels. Twice a man, once dead."

Phoebe kept her eyes on the woman, her heart pounding at the words. Her sisters? The man blessed by angels?

"Across the veil lies his downfall. The keeper of the grains will help him find his way to what he thinks he seeks, yet only should deny. A world within a world, trapped until the door can open. Keep the door closed… or the son will fall."

The woman's eyes cleared and she slowly slid a piece of paper across the table and Phoebe's eyes widened. A sketch of Chris covered the yellowing paper and Valerie let Phoebe's wrist fall from her grasp.

"…save him."

Phoebe's purse clattered to the floor in her haste to snatch the paper but she paid it no mind, instead stuffing everything haphazardly into the bag before she tore out of the shop and into the street. She fumbled for her phone and cursed when only Piper's answering machine picked up.

"Piper, do not let Chris out of your sight. We have a serious problem. I'm on my way over."


The sun had set a long time ago and now the nightlife of San Francisco was bustling outside Charlotte's window. The brunette was sitting on the fire escape, her legs dangling down without care. Her forehead was pressed to the cool metal as she stared out at the twinkling lights and listened to the music and laughter filtering up from the street. Since the discovery that she was, in fact, a witch; and that her job now was to guide the son of one of the most powerful witches in the world, she had been spending a lot more time just…. Thinking.

The clock inside her apartment chimed twelve times and Charlotte stifled a yawn as she climbed back in through her window and latched it tight. Charlotte yawned again and opened her refrigerator, removing a can of energy drink and a banana. She devoured the fruit in three bites before guzzling away at the drink and tossing the remains in the garbage. Why she had volunteered for the graveyard bar shift, she would never know. But then again, the money was good and it paid her rent and grocery bill with enough wiggle room for a splurge every few months.

As she shimmied into her pants and work shirt, she tied back her hair into casual ponytail and swiped the journal from her bedside, slipping it away into a drawer. A soft pawing at her window let her know that the mysterious feline who had been visiting her for several months now (that Chris had identified as a familiar) was here. She opened her window and let the cat slip in through the crack and curl up on her bed. Charlotte scratched it between the ears and leaned down to nuzzle its chocolate brown fur.

"Nice try, cutiepie. I know you're no ordinary kitty. That's the last time I get changed in front of you."

The cat seemed disgruntled, but stretched out across her pillow as she headed out of her bedroom. A strange sensation rippled up her spine and she paused before turning her head back to the cat, now finding him alert on her bedspread with his eyes fixed on her.

"Wow, kitty… déjà vu."

The cat mewled and Charlotte scratched behind his ears as she disappeared out the door and down the stairs, not seeing the cat's agile leap to her dresser and the clawing at the top drawer where Chris' journal was buried.


Caged from the outside timeline by a thin veil, the man was once again hunched over a table, his matted hair shielding his face from view. The door swung open and a tall man strode into the room without announcing himself. The figure looked up from his blond curls and his lips quirked into a lazy smile.

"We are drawing closer?"

"He is becoming weaker. His mind is becoming more open… the girl is doing exactly what you assumed she would."

The blond sat straighter and reclined in the chair, one hand sweeping out with a sudden renewed strength and the flames burning low in the torches burst into life. His blue eyes turned on the heavily tattooed demon and he smiled.

"I have a message for you to deliver."

The hallways of the underworld were cold, hard mazes of stone that could only be navigated by those who knew their way. The demon did not break stride as he walked, passing a multitude of emaciated ruins of his kin; wearied demons scurrying into corners as their final powers oozed away. Their solitude was beginning to take toll on the weak. But they would not die. The demon approached a heavy door and snapped his fingers; forcing the two guards to pull away the heavy, oak doors and allow him passage.

A figure stood amid roaring flames, the screams of agony echoing off the stone walls as the victim writhed and tried to escape. The flames were deafening as they crackled and spit, the scent of burning flesh peeling from bone filling the entire cavern. The demon extended his hand and sent a tidal wave of water crashing onto the flaming pit, steam rising into the air as the screams turned to sobs and whines of pained relief. The steam cleared and the flame-mauled figure came into view; skin blistered red raw and blackened in a twisted shape. The demon watched as the skin slowly began to knit together, agonizing red becoming pale and unblemished before the figure was once again recognisable. She hung limply from her bonds, breath harsh and ragged.

"The Lord sent me with a message for you." The demon spoke, his voice noticeably tinged with a smirk of power. The woman tied to the stake raised her head weakly.

"What?" she spat as she threw back her hair, eyes filled with the determination not expected in someone who had just been trapped in an eternal fiery pit without the luxury of death to keep her company.

"You're losing."

The demon tipped his hand and the flames burst from the wooden stakes without warning, the woman screaming as the fire began to wind back up her body and consume her as it had done so many times before. The doors opened as the demon stalked away, his lips curling into a smirk as he passed the two heavyset men guarding the door.

"Let us celebrate, men… our time is coming."