Disclaimer: Not mine... not quite sure who owns it these days, but more power to them.
Also, a note for these little chunks of flashbacks: Unless otherwise stated, they're in the changed future, not the nasty one. Well, except this one...which is a bit of both. Time travel makes my head hurt.
Chapter Four: The Afterlife.
November 16th 2004
"Clarence..." Chris spotted the Angel of Death in the corner and smiled despite himself, "Are you stalking me again?"
The Angel smiled back, hands clasped serenely in front of him, his janitorial outfit replaced with something more appropriate of his station. It was somehow reassuring, for no reason Chris could put a finger on. Even living a life like his where demons and magic live in every corner, the idea that an Angel of Death had been spying on him for weeks was... unsettling, to put it subtly. It was nice to separate this person from that janitor who had come by and ironically told him to get a life every other night.
The Angel stepped forward, "What can I say, I kinda like ya, kid. I had been hoping it wouldn't come to this."
"But you knew it would..." Chris said, bitterness clearly evident. On a different day he'd bother to be nicer, but he was honestly just too tired.
"Honestly? I wasn't sure." The angel shrugged, "Never quite know with you. You've had a habit of beating the odds before."
The smile faded on Chris's lips as he felt the last bit of hope leave him. That last scrap that told him Leo would whip up some kind of miracle or the sisters would crash in and save the day like the always used to, like they hopefully would in the future. A horrible seething fear wound its way around his spine. What if he hadn't done enough? What if it was all for nothing... damn, that would suck.
Chris forced his eyes open, not realizing they'd closed, and found Clarence, "Wyatt and all them..."
The Angel smiled conspiratorially, "It will be rough for the next years, but your family will be happy."
The fear sank as fast as it came and he shook out a shallow breath, "Good..."
He had a feeling he should be scared, or angry... any one of those stages of death would be natural at this point. He certainly didn't want to die, he'd worked way too damn hard to stay alive all this time that it should feel like a monumental waste to get this close and have it end. Then again, he'd always been prepared, ever since Wyatt took control and the world went to literal hell.
That's why he'd been so entirely reluctant to leave Bianca in the attic that first time and so willing the second. He knew he wouldn't be coming back to that time alive. Maybe that was just his lot in this life. His job was to save everyone else. Wyatt, his parents, aunts, Bianca. Every face he could never forget in the hollows of the safe houses that were never safe, and all the hundreds of thousands that he'd never have the chance to even see that suffered all the same. That was his lot.
The real question to as is: Was he okay with that?
Chris looked over at Clarence, not at all surprised at the expression on his face. An expression that said he'd heard and understood everything that had just run through Chris's head. The witchlighter just rolled his eyes at him.
"Well," The Angel asked prompted softly, "Are you? Your life for theirs?"
Chris just stared at the ceiling, noticing how he couldn't feel his fingers any more.
"Yes." Chris whispered finally, smiling sarcastically inwardly because he didn't have the energy to do it outwardly, "I'm okay with that."
The Angel lowered his head in respect, nodding.
"Just... one thing." Chris mumbled.
"Yes?"
He forced his eyes open again, "Let me see my dad again, just for a bit."
"Sure thing, kid." Clarence smiled, settling down weightlessly and resting a cool hand on his forehead, "Just rest. He'll be back before you know it."
Chris nodded shortly, fading just before the Paige's desperate voice broke the silence in the house. He barely noticed as the police swarmed in and out. He didn't notice his aunt elbowing her way through the police, raising her hands and unsuccessfully willing herself to develop the ability to heal. He just concentrated on breathing. Clarence waited there, silent and invisible, buying the boy time until Leo returned, giving him a mental nudge to wake him.
Even with this talents, he couldn't hold the boy for for long, not if the plan was going to work. He managed a few minutes, the only thing keeping Chris alive was pure will on the boy's part, but eventually, that too gave out.
Clarence stepped in carefully around the grieving elder, drawing his soul and body away, leaving Leo with nothing. He felt for the man, but there was no time.
A flash and he was standing next to an operating table, staring down at Piper Halliwell, blood draining out of her at alarming rates, spellbound doctors not trying nearly as hard as they should.
Piper was not destined to die, he knew. The baby, however...
Clarence sent a look up through the ceiling, even as he felt power that wasn't entirely his own drain into him. He hoped that the choices of the day had not been made lightly. He hoped they knew what they were doing.
With a glowing hand, The Angel of Death reached out, and changed destiny.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
November 16th, 2027. 11:20
Mel flipped upside down on the couch, feet propped up on the back as she nudged the pages to the next chapter in her french book, making rhymes in her head already.
It was a bad habit, she knew. Like a gun in a mortal's hands, witches really shouldn't rhyme unless they mean it, even in their heads. She couldn't entirely help it though. She'd been fascinated with words and the concept of spells across languages. She knew three fairly fluently so far and was working on another six. She was extremely good at it, and knew it. Leo had said it was her heavily dormant whitelighter genes taking effect. Mel preferred to think she was just awesome.
She flipped through the pages, easily picking up verb conjugations and well hidden grammatic rules before flipping again, mood already darkening, wishing for an excuse to sneak out for a while. Just a bit, that was all she asked! She'd even take a demon vanquish if that's what it took and she wasn't too overly fond of those...
"HALLIWELLS!"
Mel screamed involuntarily as the foreign voice tore through the walls like they weren't even there. The youngest Halliwell didn't even spare a second to try to decipher who it was, she was already tumbling to her feet, hitting the carpet running. She skidded to a halt in the foyer, taking the space of a breath to gauge her surroundings. She saw the woman first, dark, beautiful, and imposing... then she saw her brother.
Mel didn't ask questions, she illusioned up a fireball, hurling it in the woman's general direction. It hit and fizzled against the stained glass as the woman shimmered out to avoid it. She reappeared, a few feet to the side, unmistakably rattled. Frankly, Mel didn't care. She faked orbing in a crystal cage and hoped that would scare her into staying put for long enough. Her priority was Chris.
She skidded next to him, hitting the floor gracelessly next to him, hands clamping down on the wound in his stomach in a way that would most likely be painful. Chris didn't even twitch. "Wyatt! Paige! Dad! Anyone! Everyone!" She called at the ceiling, "Now! Now, now!"
The room infused with blue and all of a sudden the foyer was a whole lot more crowded, Wyatt and Paige appearing on either side of her, hands pulling her back. She tried to shrug them off before she realized they belonged to her father. She looked back at him, scared. He was still in his school robes and white as a sheet, staring at the wound in Chris's stomach like he'd never seen blood before.
Leo caught Paige's eyes for the barest of seconds, communicating something Mel couldn't even guess at. She stepped back and wrapped her arms around her father even as she felt him shaking his head and mumbling.
"Not again... this isn't possible... not possible"
Mel tore her eyes away again, "What are you talking about?"
Leo didn't even seem to hear her.
"Damnit," Wyatt cursed, glaring at Paige even as the barest thought of giving up went through her head, "So help me, if you give up on him..."
Paige glared, the glow in her hands returning full force, "I wasn't gonna!"
Each pressed in forcing every bit of their considerable power and the wound stubbornly refused to heal. They got the feeling as if they were pressing against some unmovable wall... and then, with the same terrifying someone got just as the thin ice broke beneath them...something gave.
In a bare second the wound healed and shut, blood disappearing completely as if it were a dream. Chris gasped, breathing in like he never had before, turning onto his side and coughing. Paige looked up at Leo with watery eyes and smiled.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Leo couldn't stop his hands from shaking, even as he pulled the blanket over his unconscious son, hand jumping to the pulse on his wrist every few minutes, just to reassure himself. He couldn't leave for fear that the minute he did, Chris would disappear without a trace. Leo had this lingering feeling that the last 23 years had been nothing but a particularly cruel dream and he'd eventually wake up and realized Chris was dead, Gideon was still out there, and Wyatt was too far down the darker path to save anymore.
He didn't know what he'd do if that were true...
"Dad..." Melinda pulled on his sleeve hesitantly, face lined with worry, "Dad, I, uh, think you need to go talk to Wyatt."
"Wyatt?" Leo shook himself out of his thoughts and stared at his daughter, "Why? Is something wrong?"
He must have sounded more scared than he'd intended because Mel blinked in surprise and waved her hands for him to calm down, "N-No. No. He's just... eh, go see." She pointed tiredly at the foyer where Leo gradually became aware of raised voices. How had he not noticed that before?
"Oh," Leo stood up and pulled Melinda into the seat, "Stay with your brother and if anything happens, you know what to do."
Melinda nodded sharply, "Sure thing."
The ex-elder reluctantly left the room, heading through the sun room tracing the voices into the foyer. The words slowly came into focus, one was Wyatt sounding angrier than he'd ever heard him sound. The other, he wasn't quite sure... but she didn't sound entirely pleasant either.
"...if I had wanted to kill him, why in the hell would I bring him back here? No assassin would be that stupid." Leo rounded the corner, eyebrows coming up at the sight. Wyatt was hovering just outside of the edge of the crystal cage, staring down a woman half his size trapped within it. Leo's mind numbly registered that he'd seen the woman when he'd arrive before, but he'd been too preoccupied with Chris he hadn't given her a further thought. Seeing things as they were, he felt he should have.
"So you admit you're an assassin?" Wyatt sniped, arms crossed.
"No!" She paused, face twisting in annoyance "Well, technically, yes, but not right now. God damn it you're obnoxious."
"Oh, I can be a lot a hell of a lot worse than this, mark my words..." Wyatt said darkly, snapping Leo back into full awareness. He stepped up behind his son and gently put a hand on his shoulder, not wanting to scare him into doing something he'd regret. Wyatt finally blinked and turned to him.
"Dad..." He breathed, looking slightly embarrassed.
"Who's this?" He nodded at Bianca, her stance hadn't calmed much, but her gaze had shifted from outright annoyance to something entirely more calculating.
"Don't know, she hasn't said," Wyatt shrugged bitterly, "She shimmered in with Chris literally red handed with blood and she's admitted she's an assassin and she's obviously a demon. There's no reason for Chris to be around her."
Bianca snorted uncharitably, "You ever consider that we might be friends?"
"Don't lie." Wyatt glared, "Chris isn't that stupid, and even if he was, he would have told me."
"Maybe he had a good reason to not trust you." Bianca sniped right back.
Using every ounce of his pacifistic sensibility, Leo pried his son back away from the crystal cage and turned to talk to the woman himself. She wasn't exactly innocent looking, but Leo had the benefit of past knowledge. This whole situation was entirely too coincidental to not be related to what happened all those years ago. He was willing to allow the girl the opportunity to talk at least.
Leo walked up to her slowly, "Well?"
The Phoenix shifted awkwardly under Leo's pointed Dad Look. The twice blessed was intimidating to be sure, in a way that made her insides go cold, but the ex- elder was intimidating in an entirely other way. She hurriedly rounded up her sarcasm and bit out a reply, "Well, what?"
Leo shook his head, "I appreciate you bringing my son back here in time, and I apologize if you are no threat, but we have to be sure. This family has many enemies."
"Mmhm." Bianca mumbled noncommittally, averted her eyes, deciding it was just easier that way.
"This will be easier on everyone if you just told us who you are..." Leo pressed.
Bianca stayed silent, but another voice answered for her.
"That," Piper said as soon as the orbs allowed, "Is Bianca." The three charmed ones lined up behind him, all looking various shades of distrustful.
Leo stared quickly between them and the trapped Phoenix witch, mouth dropped open. He turned back to the sisters, "That Bianca?"
"Well, yeah," Paige said as if it was obvious.
"You don't recognize her? Cause I sure as hell do." Phoebe added.
Leo shook his head and ran a hand over his face in memory, "I only saw her for a second before she put kicked me in the face."
"Ooh, yeah, ouch," Piper patted him on the shoulder sympathetically, "Sorry bout that honey. Now. You. Good or evil?" Piper pointed at Bianca expectantly, foot tapping against the floor.
Bianca gaped at them, absolutely floored, "What are you guys even /talking/ about, and how do you know my name?"
"Oh, you'd be surprised, missy," Piper smiled in an entirely unfriendly way, speaking in that completely nonplussed way of hers, "Bianca, Phoenix. Shimmers, conjures daggers, kicks my husband in the face. Future-you decided she wanted to hurt my family and kill my son. So! Don't blame us if we're jumping to any conclusions."
Bianca's face dropped into open confusion mouth working uselessly.
"Yeaah," Paige shrugged, "Don't ask, it'll make your brain hurt. I know mine does!" Phoebe nodded in agreement, rubbing her forehead.
Bianca narrowed her eyes at them, snapping her mouth shut and considering her options. When she tried again, she spoke slowly slowly, like one would when they realized they'd been locked in the cage with the circus lion, "You're all crazy, aren't you..."
Wyatt snickered despite himself before he clamped a hand over his mouth.
"Oh just tell us if you're good or evil or we're gonna start casting spells, and I don't feel in a particularly rhymy mood right now." Phoebe smiled brightly.
"I'm good!" Bianca bit out, "Not that you're going to believe me."
The three sisters traded a look with each other, staging a wordless conversation only years of familiarity could bring. A few moments deliberation and they turned back, smiles turned ice cold.
"You're right," Phoebe said, seriously, "We don't trust you."
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
11:50
Chris woke to the painfully familiar sight of the Manor's sitting room and groaned. Seriously? This was... well, heaven or hell, wherever he was supposed to go. Either way, it was kinda lame. Or maybe that was the point, he realized. He'd done some pretty horrible things in the name of his mission, maybe this was the payback. In death he had to stay in the goddamn manor and second guess himself for the rest of eternity.
Oo...these hell guys were good.
Chris rolled over and gaged the room. Everything was as it should be, a place for everything and everything in its place, as it were. All except one thing. The Witchlighter's eyes fell on a book on the floor, sticking out like the metaphorical sore thumb.
A French book? He stared at it blanky.
His punishment was to sit in a hell shaped like his childhood home and learn French?
Oh this was bullshit. He did not go back into the past and freaking die at the hands of some deranged Elder to learn goddamn French.
"Oh, geeze, Chris," A voice called over his shoulder and he felt someone pushing him down, "Lay down, you barely have any blood left, don't go sloshing it around too much."
He looked up at a woman a few years younger than him, brown haired, green eyed, fussy as all hell it seemed.
Melinda...
and then it all came rushing back. Two sets of memories abruptly split making him grab at his temples in pain. The world seemed to seemed to separate and scramble, swirling around like a maniacal kaleidescope. He felt his mind fraying at the edges, every emotion vying for attention all at once. Eventually it slowed, his mind separating into two sides.
...and then the world made /so much sense/.
All the moments of intuition. All the times he'd opened up a book and realized he'd read it before. All the random demons or people who did double takes at him as of late. The consistent and repeated Deja Vu... He tried to fit the feeling into words, try to explain to Melinda that he's succeeded. Holy crap, he'd succeeded.
All he could muster was, "Oh."
Mel looked at him, convinced he'd gotten brain damaged, "Oh?"
A wide grin split his face and he reached out and placed a kiss on her forehead, "You have no idea."
"Ew. Got that right, cause, what the hell--Heey, sit back down!" She swiped at her forehead childishly and reached out to catch her brother as he made an attempt to stand up. The minute he tried to put weight on his legs they decided they didn't want to cooperate anymore and crumpled under him.
"Woah, there, buster," Melinda struggled to keep the substantially taller Halliwell upright. It didn't help that he looked absolutely deranged right then, enough that she was starting to suspect some kind of demonic possession instead of brain damage... her brother never smiled this much.
Chris sank back into the cushions, and covered his face briefly with his hands. It all just felt so surreal, having two lives at the same time. Like he could jump back and forth between them, as soon as he'd concentrate on one set of memories the others would take a back seat, sinking into a comfortable hazy dream state until he needed them again.
Even as the happiness of having succeeded, he reached for the old memories and recoiled and shivered. All of them were bustling forward, demanding attention, demanding to be acknowledged and processed. Every death, every betrayal, all wanting to come to the surface.
He felt like he was going crazy, the memories blurring together uncomfortably, making him feel like every death had occurred again. Desperately, he reached for the comfortably numb part of his brain he'd inhabited for a good portion of his past life, and felt the memories sink back to the edge of his mind, waiting to ambush him should he slip.
He opened his eyes, images of blood and scorched cities still on the back of his eyelids, and lurched forward, attempting to stand up again. He fared better this time, ignoring Mel's annoyed protests.
"Where is everyone?" He asked her finally.
Melinda frowned, "Attic, of course, keeping an eye on the crazy lady."
"Crazy lady?" Chris frowned, trying to grasp at the right memories without calling any of the old ones up. Finally, one snapped into place, "You mean Bianca? Bianca's here?"
Even as he said her name he regretted it. The memory of last time he'd seen her in the attic slapped him in the face, a piece of jagged wood through her stomach and a bare few moments left to live.
"Yeah, what's the deal with her anyway. Why are you hanging out with someone who can shimmer?" Melinda stood up next to him and put an arm around his waist to steady him. He barely acknowledged her and just pressed a hand to his forehead again, "Chris... I hate to sound redundant but are you alright?"
Her brother winced for a second then sighed as whatever was bothering him seemed to fade, "Fine... or I will be as soon as I get to the attic."
Melinda pulled his arm around her shoulder with a sigh and pulled him toward the stairs, "I'd say no, you understand, but you wouldn't listen anyway."
Chris cracked a weary smile, "Smart girl."
They took a single step and immediately stopped, both very confused.
"Was I the only one who felt the floor shake?" Chris asked.
"Nnope..." Mel replied.
"Joy."
The tremors started again, sending the both of them clamoring to grab onto the railing of the stairs. The chandelier rattled above them loudly, the various pictures and decorations on the walls swinging dangerously. Just as a lamp skittered its way across the side table and was sent crashing downward, it stopped.
...as a matter of fact everything stopped. In mid air.
"Oo, that's not natural," Mel pointed mouth hanging open. She remembered her father's words quickly and grabbed onto Chris, performing her world famous disappearing act, covering them both in an illusion that looked precisely like what was behind them.
The house was completely silent for a moment, the lamp hanging in mid air in a way that would have been unsettling to anyone who hadn't grown up with something similar. This, though, this wasn't Piper's doing. They had no doubts their mother was, next to Wyatt, one of the most powerful witches out there, but she wasn't capable of stopping an earthquake...
So the two waited, minimizing their breathing and waiting for the other shoe to drop.
...and the other shoe anticlimactically walked right through the front door.
The newcomer wasn't intimidating. He was short, sharp, and pale in a very sickly way, hair thin and scraggly. Most demons they had to fight at least made some sort of magnificent entrance. This man seemed to be okay with just... shuffling inside on tiny, timid steps.
Chris recognized him instantly, jaw dropping. The guy from the library. He got a nearly irresistible urge to slap himself in the forehead and promise never to be rude to anyone ever again. If he could start and/or stop earthquakes, god knew what they were going to be dealing with and he'd gone out of his way to piss the guy off.
The pale man shuffled in, careful to politely close the door before he entered further, looking around like a tourist. He spotted the lamp and halted, reaching out like he wasn't in control of his own arms and put the lamp back in its place. The thundering sound of footsteps on the stairs signaled the entrance of the other Halliwells.
"Woah!" Piper's hands immediately popped up and attempted to freeze the man. It didn't work. She tried it twice again when it didn't work and then glared at her hands. The Pale Man stared at her and tilted his head to the side.
"Molecular manipulation is so limited." He said placidly, not intimidated in the least by the sight of them all glaring at him.
"Oh-ho," Piper raised her hands again, "I'll show you limited buster, unless you tell me, right now, what you're doing in my house."
The man looked at her as if she were dim, "I'm here to set things right, of course."
"T-minus three seconds to explosion, buddy, be more specific. Set what right?" Piper waved her hands threateningly.
"Why, time, of course." The man frowned, "I'm going to set it back to the way it was."
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
A/N: Long chapter, gotta say. There wasn't any better place to cut it and I'm kinda making up for the short one last week. For a few notes: Firstly, I'm assuming Paige picked up a few more whitelighter powers in the gig, healing being the big one, I'm also going to say she can heal from greater distances thanks to TK. Yay for her.
Lastly: The problem with future fics is that there's a such a huge cast to deal with and you know so little about most of them that, no matter how you spin it, they're practically OC's anyway. I've just been trying to concentrate on Piper's kids, though I do know... a good deal about the other six. So I guess my question is, now that you've seen a bit more of Mel at least. What do you think of her? Her personality is pretty close to Grams's with Piper's sorta-kinda aversion to magic and just wanting the normal life gig... y'know with some quirks tossed in there. I always feel so icky about OC's and I just want to give the poor brothers a good sister. Soooo... Comments?
Anyway, thank you all oodles for the reviews last time. Sometimes I just feel like such a poser when I write and getting feedback helps incredibly. There's nothing that spurs on writing like a review.