Disclaimer: Don't own them

((---))

Wyatt woke up to an idea that consuming some unknown kind of an alcoholic drink, offered by friendly dwarves in way too generous qualities, might not be a really good idea at all. Oh, not at all, he eventually decided, groaning and burying his throbbing head deeper into a pillow.

What little he remembered of the previous night gave him the opportunity to come to a complete, confident conclusion that little bearded buggers, taking a polite decline to have another glass of an unknown substance they called wine as a grave personal insult to their immense ego, were evil. More evil than any evil he came to know in his life as a witch and worse than any demons he had to face during that time, because none of them could make him suffer so much in the aftermath of his own birthday.

Wyatt groaned again, lifting his hand to summon a savior. His Mom wouldn't approve of such trivial use of magic, he knew, but he just couldn't bring himself to care. His concentration wasn't as sound as his wish, however, because a small bottle of an unidentified liquid hit him square in the brow instead of landing accurately on the bed table nearby.

Wyatt knew he shouldn't have done it. He knew it all too well, both out of numerous times he was said so and out of personal experience… Yet a moment of weakness left him doing it.

Rubbing a throbbing temple and swallowing the content of the bottle in one huge gulp, he thought, somewhat resignedly: 'Can this day get any worse?'

(---)

Wyatt entered the attic to a sound of loud crash resonating from the walls and right into the witch's ears, echoing painfully in his skull. Wincing and bringing his palms to reflexively cover the abused part of the body, he paused in his steps, as the look of understandable irritation turned into one of complete bewilderment at the picture of his younger brother recklessly shifting the small bottles on the shelf of an opened cupboard, the one used to keep the potions that took long to be made or had some rare, hard-to-find ingredients in them. Just in case, Piper said, locking them away under a key and a reliable spell. Just in case.

Chris's sneaking abilities – the ones he no doubt used to make up for his lack of power in comparison to Wyatt and a subtle inferiority complex formed of it – never ceased to amaze his elder brother.

"Chris? – Wyatt's unexpected voice from behind nearly sent the dark-haired boy toppling over the mess under his feet, but he regained his balance with all the dignity he could master in a situation like that. – Where's Mom?"

Chris knew his brother well enough to identify the unsaid 'what do you think you are doing?' and 'you are in sooo big trouble, baby brother'.

There was a short nervous laugh, then "She's in the club having fun with Dad, Aunt Phoebe and Aunt Paige… They won't come back until the very evening…"

'…Don't tell them'.

There was a long silence as Chris turned away to continue his rummaging on the shelf and Wyatt made his way through the mess on the floor to approach him. He paused when he noticed a circle of not yet lit candles in the centre of the attic and opened his mouth to ask Chris what that was about when a younger boy yelled out in triumph: "Found it!"

Wyatt's face had an expression of a confused frown on it as he regarded a bottle of ice blue liquid his brother was clutching in his hand. He sighed and rubbed his aching temple as the bottle travelled through the air to finally firmly position itself in the elder witch's palm, accompanied by the indignant noise the younger one made.

"Now explain me what this is all about."

The green-eyed look that followed was the one of genuine surprise, as well as the question asked:

"You don't remember?"

Oh. This. Was. Not. Good. No, definitely not.

Chris eyed him carefully, dark-green pools full of suspicious disbelief.

Wyatt knew he would regret it, he undoubtedly did.

"What should I remember?"

((---))

Wyatt groaned quietly and buried his face into his palms.

"I can't believe I said this!'

Yet his half-dead, but still living memory helpfully provided him with the scene of a giggling blushing she-dwarf as he, Wyatt Halliwell, was paying compliments to her… no, he really didn't want to remember this!..

"You did," - Chris had to resist the urge of bursting into laughter right then and there, but his green eyes were sparkling with merriment he didn't even bother to conceal. He really is enjoying this, Wyatt thought vengefully. I'm a good guy now, I should not kill my brother, I should NOT kill my brother, I should NOT…

"…And then you stuck Excalibur back into the stone, because the dwarves said it'd been unfair they didn't have a try to pull it out, and you wanted to give them a chance to…"

Wyatt just stared, mouth agape:

"I did WHAT?!..."

"...try, but they were kind of losers… They even tried to break a stone with a hammer, but it's quite a tough stone, so after disposing of the remnants of a dozen irreparably broken hammers they just continued pulling at Excalibur and jerking and twisting it… But after a few hours it didn't even budge and you said that they failed and teleported it away… You both were good by that time…"

Wyatt involuntarily searched the attic with his eyes to find the stone – not an easy one to hide – but to his utter astonishment found none, not even a trace of it. His still fuzzy, but already-starting-to-clear mind needed some time to make a proper connection, and he asked carefully:

"Chris?.. Where did I teleport it?.."

"That is the problem, - a cheerful younger brother replied way too happily. Wyatt couldn't help but think that he was relishing in the moment his impeccable elder brother finally made a fool of himself. – We don't know."

Wyatt has never felt like banging his head on the wall more in his entire life. Even despite the fact his head was still throbbing, but less painfully by now. Thank great Merlin for small pleasures.

"Don't worry, - was that sound snickering? – Nobody knows but the two of us. I will not give away your secret."

…He was never drinking the dwarf stuff again.

((---))

"So are we going to summon it?" Wyatt lifted his eyes from the circle on the floor to his younger brother, who was sitting cross-legged on the couch and scribbling a spell in his notebook.

"Well, yes, basically," - Chris tore the sheet out of the notebook and handed it to his brother to inspect. Wyatt looked it through and nodded:

"This might work."

Chris barely kept himself from putting out his tongue and instead nodded in a dignified manner, rising to stand near Wyatt in front of the circle of lit candles.

Ancient power, born and gained

When the dragon's fire burst,

Bright as sunlight's golden flame,

Bring to us back what was lost!

The white summon flames in the middle of the circle had a distinct shade of gold. The two witches sighed in relief.

It was short-lived.

Instead of an enchanted stone with a magical sword in it, in the middle of the circle stood a thin dark-haired boy dressed in the manner of ancient England, his back turned to the brothers.

Distinctly they heard him mutter:

"Oh no, not again… Arthur's definitely going to take up his habit of putting me in the stocks once more… Well, maybe not, maybe he's just going to say something like 'Merlin, you are a wonder in your idiocy, - his voice oddly emphasized the first syllable, - only you can get lost in the familiar forest this close to Camelot…'"

The boy suddenly stopped and looked around, turning cautiously to look at the two Halliwells, slowly understanding that something was wrong here. His eyes were the darkest blue hue they've ever seen, but for a short moment they seemed to flash golden.

"Who are you? - He asked, his voice hostile and suspicious, with an odd shade of inappropriate curiosity barely noticeable in it.

Yep, something was definitely wrong in here.