Charmed: The Return
Disclaimer: See Chapter One.
Summary: After their parents' deaths, the Charmed Children moved on with their lives. Now they return home to where it all started and to the world they turned their backs on.
Author's Note: The year for this fiction is 2032. That means, the Halliwells died in 2027. Long paragraphs or sentences that are in italics are flashbacks, and any words that are in italics are just like that to show emphasis. There is strong language and mild violence.
Chapter Twelve: Pain an Empath Can't Prevent
"It was an ill-fated house...A curse seemed to hang over the family,
making men sin in spite of themselves and bringing suffering and
death down upon the innocent as well as the guilty."
Edith Hamilton, Mythology
Four Warren witches and a mortal police officer filled the Emergency Room's waiting room at the hospital where Rose worked. Sam sat in a hard plastic chair with his head in his hands; muffled sobs could be heard as Rachel rubbed his back. Her eyes were lost in her power. Hospitals did that to her. Hospitals caused a myriad of emotions to bounce in her head and heart. Wyatt sat to the right of Rachel, dried blood in his hair. His blue eyes were fixed on a poster of a pregnant girl and the message, "No Sex is Safe Sex". Chris and Cassie were leaning against the wall. Cassie no longer had a fearful expression on her face, but a sympathetic one. Rose was in the trauma room with Ali.
The silence and tension could have been cut through with a knife.
After what must have been hours, Rose emerged from a set of brown doors with: Authorized Personnel Only written on them in red letters. She wore a yellow trauma gown, which was coated in blood. On her eyes were a set of safety glasses, which she removed upon looking at her family. Sam's head bolted upwards and stared at his cousin.
Rachel looked at her sister, and knew what she had to say, without her powers of premonition or empathy.
"She had massive internal bleeding. She bled out as the doctors worked. Her pressure started to drop and we had to shock her heart." Rose said, not making contact with anyone in the room.
"She'll be okay, right?" Sam asked.
"We shocked her and used epinephrine to get her heart rate back up, but it was no good. After forty-five minutes, there was nothing more any of us could do. Ali was pronounced dead at 10:58 pm." tears in her eyes as she struggled to get the last sentence out, as if her own voice betrayed her.
Sam looked at her. Tears pouring freely from his eyes, "She can't be dead! What the hell is the use of medicine if you can't save her!"
Rachel started to pull him into a hug but he lashed out. "Don't touch me, damn it!"
"Sam, I know you're angry, but there's a reason for everything." Wyatt said, as he choked back tears.
"Reasons? Wyatt, what fucking reason is there to take away my sister! I have no mother, or father! All I had was a sister and now she's gone and you sit there and talk about fucking reasons? Screw that. I'm done with this bullshit. What force on this earth would take away someone's family? Answer me that! You want to talk about reasons, well give me the reason for this fucked up world and how it works!"
"Sam, I know you're upset, but lashing out on us isn't the solution." Rachel said, as tears leaked from her eyes.
"You don't know what it's like to lose a sibling." he said.
"Not personally, no. But emotionally, I do. You're projecting the pain and anger onto me, which is magnifying my own. I feel the pain of each of you and every other person in this hospital, so don't talk to me about what it's like to feel something. Sam, she died fighting. You know that she loved her gifts and what we do."
"Ali was the one to live longer. She was careful about everything. She didn't drink, she didn't smoke, she didn't eat meat, for Christ's sake. So why her? And why now? I just started to reconnect with her!"
"Sam, I know. We all were, but we need to remember one thing."
"And what's that, Rachel?"
"She's with Aunt Paige and Uncle Richard now. She's no longer in pain and she's happy."
"But how am I supposed to live without her?" Sam sobbed as he fell to his knees.
"Just one day at a time." She said as she got down on her knees and hugged him.
Chris was crying hard, as he sat down in Sam's empty chair. Cassie stood next to Chris and placed a hand on his shoulder. Wyatt and Rose watched as Sam broke down in Rachel's arms, and cried. And cried. That night, the Halliwell clan did only that: cry.
Four Days Later
Rachel stood in the living room of Halliwell Manor. Her brown hair was pulled into a tight ponytail. She wore a black pants suit with heels that she normally wore for work. On her shoulder was a black Prada bag. A pair of Chanel sunglasses were folded in her left hand as she waited. Her face was empty of makeup, and around her neck was a silver triquetra, a gift on her eighteenth birthday.
Wyatt stood next to her. His hair gelled and perfect. He wore a black suit with a white shirt and a crimson red tie. He stood uneasy, rocking on his feet, causing his shined dress shoes to squeak. In his hand was a pair of Armani sunglasses, and a small package of tissues.
Rose was sitting in one of the arm chairs. She was dressed in a strapless black knee length dress with black heels and a black shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Her was down and straight. Her face too was makeup less, and she had a black Gucci clutch purse in her lap and her pair of Armani sunglasses nestled on top of the clutch.
Chris walked into the living room, Cassie Abridge following behind him. He wore a black suit with an white shirt and a mint green tie. He had his Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses atop his head. Abridge wore an ankle length black skirt and fashionable black tee shirt. She had her sunglasses on.
"It's really hot there today. The temp in my car said 91 degrees." Abridge said as she removed her sunglasses.
"Well leave to Ali to make it as hot as hell on her funeral." Rose said as she stared at nothing.
"The limo's here. Has Sam come down yet?" Chris said.
"No." Wyatt said dismally.
"I'll go get him, why don't you all get into the car. We need to get the church."
Everyone nodded and Chris and stood to leave. "I'll be right back." Chris said as he walked deeper into the eerily quiet house.
Cassie followed Rachel and Rose outside. Since her discovery of magic, four days earlier, she had been around the witches frequently. When Chris sat her down and explained everything, she had been initially freaked out, but got use to it. She and Chris were now in the talking stage of the Dating Game, though neither of them knew it.
Chris knocked on Sam's door and got no answer. Chris took a deep breath and opened the door. Sam sat on his bed, staring out the window. He wore a black suit with a black shirt and a slate colored tie. His hair was gelled and his eyes already puffy.
"The limo's here." Chris said kindly.
"Go without me." he said in a monotone voice, driven of any emotion.
"Sammy, you need to go. People are going to be there to pay their respects."
"I don't think I can do it."
"Sam, you can do anything, and you know that." Chris said sitting next to him.
"I couldn't save her."
"No one could. You heard what Wyatt said. Sometimes healing doesn't work because destiny won't allow it."
"I'm so confused and I don't understand."
"What is there to understand? She was taken from us and we, as humans, have to deal with the aftermath."
"She was twenty-two years old. She was a student. No one should go that early."
"But that's the reality we live in, Sam. Death can strike anyone at anytime of any age. There is no requisite to die, trust me, I know. I examine the bones of those who die before their time. I see what humans do to each other daily. I may not understand Death's selection process, but I understand death. I make my living studying the dead."
"This isn't like before. When mom and dad died, I was okay for a while. I'm afraid that I may never be okay, and that my life will spiral out of control once more and I'll end where I was before, in rehab."
"Sam, only you can affect your future, but we'll help in every way possible. Now come on, Ali would be mad if we were late to her funeral."
Sam stifled a pained smile and stood up. He brushed his clothes and nodded. Chris grinned a sad smile and led the way.
The drive to the church was a long, silent one. Normally, a witch would have a Wiccan ceremony, commending their spirit into the hereafter, but not Ali and not today. She would have a Roman Catholic funeral. No one in the family was Catholic until Phoebe married Jason. As an agreement upon marriage, the children, mainly Rachel and Rose, would be raised as witches and Catholics, after their father. Ali however joined the Catholic church at the same time, and was forever believing in the Christian God.
Upon arriving at the church, the six occupants got out of the limo and stood to the side as the six pall bearers moved the casket from the hurse. The six pall bearers were three tattoo artists Ali worked with, and three of her close friends from school. The mass of people outside the church was a sea of tears and black. Once the mass entered the church, the casket was led in.
Behind the casket, stood Sam, by himself. Behind him was Rachel and Rose, their arms locked together, then came Wyatt and Chris, who were holding hands. Cassie walked behind them and sat in the pew behind the one reserved for family. Her hand never left Chris' shoulder, except for when they stood.
The mass started in the usual way. Praying, standing, sitting, standing again. Chris couldn't help but think that the Catholic church was an up and down church: one minute your standing, then your sitting, then your kneeling, then your sitting etc.
After the priest did his homily about death, heaven and the life of Ali. It was time for a eulogy. Rachel and Chris, planned the ceremony, decided that Wyatt would be the one to speak. He had better oratorical skills, and Sam agreed. Wyatt stood up and proceeded to the lectern (the official name for a church podium).
He stood behind the maple wood and adjusted the microphone and looked at the multitude of people. All of Ali's friends, co-workers, and schoolmates, some co-workers from the Bay Mirror, ME's office and his own company. There were a few whitelighters in crowd. After all, her mother, Paige, was a whitelighter. Then there in the back of the room, in a wheelchair, was Darryl Morris. He sat looking on, as Darryl Jr and Sheila sat in the pew. Wyatt nodded in their direction, and Darryl Sr nodded back.
Wyatt cleared his throat and dabbed at his eyes, with a tissue and opened his mouth to speak. "Alison Prudence Montana was a wonderful person. She had a vivacity for life that only one can hope to compare to. She never ran away from a fight and always had a head strong disposition, that many envied, myself included. To lose someone of such purity and good is a tragedy not only for those who she leaves behind, but for those who have yet to know her and never will. She was twenty-two, when she died. An age that many of us think is way to young to die. I know in my heart that Ali died the way she wanted to. Fighting. The doctors tried to save her as her body fought her injuries, however, that was not to be the case. I can stand up here and talk about her death, or I can talk about her life. I choose the latter of the two. One of my most profound memories of Ali was when she was seven, I was fourteen at the time and had to babysit her. I was watching a movie downstairs when I heard her calling for me. Panicking, I ran to her in the kitchen, and there she was on the counter, holding a cupcake. The last cupcake, with pink frosting. I had wanted it but my Aunt Paige told me that it was hers for after her nap. She sat there with a plastic knife in her hand and cut it down the middle and shared the cupcake with me. She always thought of others before herself." Wyatt let out a sob as he put the tissue up to his eyes and wiped.
"Ali, our fallen sister, cousin and friend. May you find your way through the darkness and into the light. I have a little poem, I would like to read, I got this off a coin that someone gave me at my mother's funeral. Gone yet not forgotten, although we are apart. Your spirit lives within me, forever in my heart. I love you, Ali and we'll meet again."
Wyatt wiped his tears once more and headed down the alter and back to his seat. Chris put his arm around his older brother, and Wyatt just silently cried. Cried in pain, cried in sorrow, and more importantly, cried in guilt.
The rest of the funeral went by fast, as the priest distributed communion, and said more prayers.
At the conclusion of mass, the priest, Father Greene, stood up and spoke the crowd. "Burial will follow mass immediately at the Halliwell Mausoleum at Lawncroft Cemetery. All are invited to attend, then a reception will be held for family and friends at the residence of the family."
The family stood up and watched as the funeral director and pall bearers came down the aisle and wheeled the casket containing the sleeping body of Ali up and out of the church. The family followed. Rachel and Rose sobbing, as they clenched to tissues. Wyatt was silent and reverent, as his tears fell freely. Chris was behind him, next to Cassie. Chris was composed, he cried as he held onto Cassie's hand. Then bringing up the rear was Sam, whose eyes were completely bloodshot. His face was marked with tear stains, as more tears came pouring from his eyes.
At the cemetery, everyone was ushered into a marble mausoleum that stood in the far corner of the cemetery. On the frame above the door in gold writing was the name, Halliwell. It was an open door room that held the graves of the Halliwell Clan. Each grave was marked by a bronze plaque with gold lettering. All were in a row, parallel to the floor. On the left were six graves. The first was Patricia Halliwell, 1950-1978. Then, Penelope Johnson-Halliwell, 1937-1998. Then, Prudence Halliwell, 1970-2001. Then Victor Bennett, 1950-2025. Then Piper Halliwell-Wyatt, 1973-2027. Then, Leo Wyatt 1974-2027.
On the right were only four graves. Phoebe Halliwell-Dean, 1975-2027. Then, Jason Dean, 1969-2027. Then, Paige Matthews-Montana, 1977-2027. Then Richard Montana, 1972-2027.
On the back wall, were six bronze plaques, all with names and birth years. All except one. From left to right, they were in order of their birth. Wyatt M. Halliwell, 2003-. Christopher P. Halliwell, 2004-. Rose P. Dean, 2006-. Rachel M. Dean, 2007-. Samuel A. Montana, 2008-. Then the last one, Alison P. Montana, 2010-2032.
The sobbing family gathered around the casket, as did the other funeral goers. The priest stood in front of the casket and went on and on about ashes to ashes and dust to dust, and how we can all hope for the resurrection of the dead and the judgement. The Halliwells stood there in silence and not quite listening as they watched the casket of the their cousin, sister and fellow witch.
At the end of the service, people started to depart. Wyatt thanked the priest and turned to his family. "Sam, do you want to stay here for a while, and then meet us at the house?"
Sam nodded.
Wyatt motioned for his crying family to follow him and they left the mausoleum.
Sam stood in the hot room and watched as the cemetery workers removed the plaque and hoisted the grave into hole. They then replaced the plaque and all was done. Ali was finally laid to rest.
Sam cried silently as he placed his hand over her name. He said something to himself, as he wiped his tears. "I'll make you proud, Ali. I promise."
Sam then looked around and saw no one in the room. He took a deep breath and looked at the graves of his parents. He nodded at them and orbed out in a swirl of blue and white lights.
The Manor was packed with people. Friends, family and co-workers were all over: in the living rooms, dining room, foyer, and solarium. Chris was walking around and cleaning as people left plates and glasses all over the place. On the foyer table was a photo of Ali, a bouquet of roses and a guest sign-in book. The dining room had trays of food that were catered by a local restaurant.
"Hey, did everything go alright?" Chris asked his younger cousin as he walked through the door. Sam looked at his cousin, "Yeah, she's laid to rest now."
"Sam, why don't you go sit down and I'll get something to eat."
Sam smiled lightly at his cousin, "Sure."
Chris turned around and headed to the dining room table. He picked up a plate and started putting some of the food on it. "Oh, Chris, I'm so sorry for you loss." a woman said to him. He looked up and saw the speaker, his co-worker and friend.
"Thanks, Jada." he said as he put the plate of food down and went over to his co-worker and pulled her into a hug.
"I know it's tough." she said, as she pulled away. Chris nodded silently and looked at his friend. She wore a brown pants suit with a pale pink oxford shirt. He could see her big tote-like purse, sticking out was a manilla file folder.
"Is that the autopsy report?" Chris asked pointing to the folder.
"Yeah. Alex took forever writing it up, I just swiped it from his desk." she smiled.
"You naughty girl. Let's go outside and talk." Chris said. "Rose, can you make a plate and bring it to Sam, he's in the living room?" Rose looked up from her plate she was making and nodded her agreement.
Chris placed a hand on Jada's shoulder directing her to the kitchen. The two walked in silence and went out into the backyard. There the two sat at the patio table, and Jada pulled the file out and slid it across the glass table to Chris, who opened it and read silently.
"Cause of death was a cerebral hemorrhage?" Chris asked as he continued to read.
"Yes, according to Alex's findings there was a massive blunt force to head and the blood pooled." Jada said, keeping her terminology simple.
"Alex is listing manner of death as homicide?" Chris asked perplexed, as he made contact with her eyes.
"Yes, the strange thing is though, there was no pathological evidence of blunt force trauma, but the blood hemorrhage indicates differently. There was no fracture of the skull, or the skin. There were some cuts on the body, but not to deep. There was no reason for her to be dead if it weren't for the hemorrhage. It's an odd case, but I don't need to tell you that."
"Will there be an investigation?" Chris asked.
"Yes, Alex contacted the police after writing up the report"
"So my cousin was murdered? We told the police, she fell down the stairs."
"It's a strange case, but we're still waiting on toxicology and DNA."
"Thanks, Jada. Now to change the subject for a moment, did you examine my case?"
"I did, Chris, and let me tell you, that's another odd one. COD was, get this, a heart attack. I found clots in the arteries. Newman, also had a chance to look at the tooth. He said that it was a result of grinding. Something very hard was shoved into her mouth and her biting down must have caused the teeth to grind with the object causing the enamel to chip and tear."
"This is the strangest case ever. Tell, Alex, I'll be back in two days. Call me with Ali's tox results if they come in."
"Of course, Chris. You can keep that file. It's a copy."
"I thought you swiped it?"
"I did, I just had enough brains to photocopy it and put the original on his desk, so he wouldn't know."
"What would I do with you!" Chris said.
"Be miserable, most likely."
And the two laughed. For the first time in five days, Chris laughed, but the laugh only masked his worry. He had to deal with a police investigation.
Alison Montana felt like she was floating. For four days, she felt this way. As if she had no weight. She looked around and saw rays of golden light and clouds, and many, many whitelighters. She was walking lightly around her surroundings when a group of hooded men and women approached her. Their voices clicked and clacked as they spoke to each other.
"Will someone tell me what's going on?" Ali demanded angrily.
And the group clacked some more.
Ali stomped her left foot and spoke in their whitelighter tongue. Her voice had a delicate click and clack to it as she yelled at them, they all looked stunned.
"My mother was a whitelighter. I know how to speak you language."
"Impressing." the middle man spoke.
"Now, will you please explained everything to me. Why am I here and not with my family?"
"Your dead, Alison."
"Thanks, I got that much. I was wondering why I'm not with my dead family, is that clearer for you?"
"We have an offer to you."
"Oh this should be good." Ali laughed heartily.
"We want to offer you the gift of immortality."
"Immortality, as in I get to live forever?"
"Yes, forever without aging as a whitelighter."
"You're offering me a position as whitelighter?"
"Of course, I mean why not? You died to save the world from a dangerous demon."
"That's exactly it, I'm dead! How can I be a whitelighter and just reappear? I mean come on, they just buried me, like five hours ago!"
"You wouldn't return to your family. Not yet anyways. Not until we can figure out what to do about the situation."
"You want me to be a whitelighter, somewhere else? And to never see my family? You are totally delusional."
"It won't be permanent. You would be able to see your family, but not just yet. They need to get use to you being dead before you return. They need to be at a place of comfort with your death."
"Comfort, so I die and then reappear as a whitelighter in say, five years? They're going to be pissed."
"So than they shall be. What do you Alison, will you be a whitelighter?"
"You swear, I'll be able to see my family again?"
"Yes." the Elder spoke.
"Fine, sign me up." Ali said, as she looked at the group of Elders and whitelighters.
There's Chapter 12! I hope you enjoyed, please review! This is the longest chapter yet!I hope you all like! REVIEW! Thanks...