Disclaimer: Neither Charmed nor the Thunderbirds and any of their characters, concepts etc etc, belong to the author of this no-money, no-payment work.

Warnings: Strong emotional themes, perhaps, and the supernatural

Authors Notes: Well, I know I said this wouldn't go anywhere, and it won't, really. I just think I need to practice writing shorter stories. No matter what I seem to do, my stories always seem to top ten thousand words and more by the second chapter. So, this will be a series of one shots, practising short plots and having an excuse for gratuitous family fluff with the Tracy's. Sorry, I got a problem. I just can't help myself (g).

Let me know what you think.

And don't worry. The next chapter of 'In and the Death' is in the works, no sweat.

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In the Beginning…

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Jeff wrestled with the problem in front of him. Working from home might have its advantages, but not when you are testing a billion-something dollar machine. It helps to have it there in front of you.

It had been a good step, going back to work. Machines made sense. Machines could be fixed, analysed, constructed. Business concerns were a matter of numbers, letters. He could work and work and work until he could at least pretend the pain had shrunk slightly. When he wasn't dealing with his own pain, feeling like he was being thrown into a pit of tar, he had to deal with the sometimes bewildered grief of his sons, the eldest only eleven, the youngest barely eighteen months. Who else was there to make sure Scott didn't get lost in his hardened shell, that John didn't retreat into his head and disappear, that Virgil didn't suppress his anger and refuse to play, that Gordon was always watched and Alan was reassured? Only his mother, and she had her own responsibilities to deal with too. What a mess. A damn great, ugly, twisted, tragic mess.

Without even realising it his eyes had strayed to the photo of his wife's face. It sat on his desk and he was in two minds what to do with it now. Having it there was just as unbearable as putting it away. Had it really only been six months?

Out of the corner of his eye, there was a transparent shadow unfolding. There was a whispering from the deepest, darkest corner of his mind, the last remnant of his family line's less-than-holy foundations. The wings did not exist exactly – they were what they looked like, the shadows of an ancient form. Demons were kind of…strange when it came to genetics. They became the demon that gave birth to them, in a way. Not similar – but almost entirely a clone. Jeff didn't really understand it – it was something to do with the character of a person being tied up with the soul, and demons, proverbially, did not have souls, at least not how it was usually understood. No new souls, no new characters…

Except when they interbred with other beings, of course. What was it his mother had spent his childhood telling him? One drop of human blood gives you the power of free will, the ability to choose to be good or to be evil. There were no excuses for Jeff if he listened to those dark whispers in his head from a being that had been around since the time man first looked into the darkness of the cave and found there fear and malice; no more than there was for anyone else.

Not many people could see the wings. His mother, of course, Lucille, his sons, and anyone who was heavily psychically inclined. Even then, they could be hidden. Just as well, it was hard to pass for normal with ghostly wings waving like smoke around you. His sons thought they were funny. They emerged when Jeff was too relaxed to hold them back, when he was stressed, when he was scared, when he was angry or upset. They had seldom been absent lately, Jeff sighed.

They also appeared when his instincts gave him bad messages…Jeff looked up from the desk ominously. At the back of his mind he had registered the slight tiny noise of sliding wood as he looked at the papers, but it had taken him a moment to give it attention. It could be anything. The wood in the house settling, something.

The darkness corner of his mind whispered like hell…

Jeff was up and over the desk in one powerful leap, through his study door in a stride and up the stairs with one hairpin turn and four long legged bounds. He was into Alan's nursery room with one wrench of the door. Alan was sick and his mother was away today, so we was home for lack of anything better.

"You!" Jeff bellowed, raw heart suddenly burning with rage.

The figure, tall, blond, dark eyed. He dressed in light clothing that was about a century out of fashion and was bending over the cot to look at little Alan, who was gamely pulling himself to his feet using the rails around him. He looked up hopefully as his father entered.

The figure backed up a couple of steps and raised it's hands in the classic harmless posture. "Relax, Tracy. What do you think I'm going to do, snatch him away? Give me some credit. Besides, I just had to open a window swinging from a tree limb. You think I haven't realised that you've made the place orbing-proof?"

"Out!"

"But how am I supposed to…."

"Now! I don't care how! You can either jump out or get thrown out!" Jeff advanced into the room, radiating rage like body heat. "You're not welcome here, Gabriel."

Gabriel almost rolled his eyes. "You're scaring him!"

Jeff's eyes flickered to Alan, who was, indeed, cowering in one corner of his crib with tiny, wordless little whimpers. Jeff forced himself to calm down. Alan had taken after his mother, that much was certain. Her Empath legacy had finally found a home. They'd been wondering which of the boys would get it. He was so much like her…

Jeff shot Gabriel a significantly evil look, promising pain if he stayed in the room a moment longer. The long haired blonde opened his mouth to protest, but suddenly thought the better of it. He backed up until he hit the window sash, folded himself through it, and dropped. Jeff heard shifting air and a slight tingling sound as he left, and there were trails of little blue lights rushing past the window.

Jeff sighed and went to his son, gently picking him up and cradling him soothingly. "Daddy's sorry, baby," he crooned softly, rocking him. "Mommy's old friends don't stop hanging around and Daddy's getting mighty tired of it."

Alan made a nonsense sound against his neck. He didn't speak yet, but Lucille had once told him that she hadn't spoken until she was three. It's different for Empath's. Why talk, she'd said, when the world was a vibrant tapestry of emotions, connections, sensations, memories of the living and the dead. In a way Alan was already talking – he was using his soul.

Jeff took a look at the pain in his son's eyes and winced. It was his pain, reflected back. It seemed so very unfair that while Alan wouldn't remember his mother, he would pick up every nuance of grief her death had caused in her family. He stroked his youngest son's hair consolingly. "Just six more months, baby. Then you take the potion, then you get to be normal." His mother had said giving it to him before he turned two could cause untold damage to his mind. She'd also protested even using it, but Jeff and Lucille had already talked about this. There was no life growing up with the supernatural hanging over you. They should know.

Jeff focused on his memories of being exhausted, and there were plenty to choose from. Alan started to droop. It was a bit of an unfair advantage, but he had to go and take care of his unwanted visitor. He tucked Alan back in with a kiss and left the door open. He could work in here as well as anywhere else.

By the time Jeff reached the front door, the anger he'd locked away was back full force, although to be fair it was now a controlled stream. The figure known as Gabriel was perched on the porch rail.

"Now before you start…"

"You've got some nerve showing up here, Gabriel," Jeff shut the door behind him, shadowy wings twitched and folded in the air. "I thought I made it clear at the funeral. You've got no right."

"Jeff, I understand you are hurting right now," Gabriel stood up. "I get it. But Lucy was very dear to many of us. You haven't got the right to say she wasn't just because you didn't involve yourself. We care what happens to her sons."

"You care that they choose your side," Jeff said softly, leaning against the door.

"We care that they choose, Jeff. Fence sitters are the ones that get caught in the crossfire. We don't want to see that happen to her sons, and believe it or not, we don't want that to happen to you either. We're not ungrateful for everything you've done for us, the lives you saved. I only came to make sure everything was running smoothly. Empathy is a funny gift. You can only last two centuries with it if you survive the first forty or so sane. There hasn't been an Empath since Lucille that has managed it. We just wanted to make sure…"

"The rumours were confirmed. Information is an edge, isn't it?" Jeff's bitter tone made Gabriel glare.

"We're not trying…"

"I know what you're trying to do," Jeff replied flatly. "You were trying to hedge the bets, feel out the field. Why not? The other side is doing the same. My answer is the same to both."

"Jeff, don't do this," Gabriel said urgently. "Don't shut us out. Don't close your doors because of pain. Don't cripple your sons' power, it's madness! It's like protecting them from a charging bull by telling them it's not there! You must…"

But Gabriel didn't get any further because Jeff was suddenly there, right in front of him hands up and around his neck. Gabriel was tall and lanky, but Jeff lifted him up high enough to have his feet dangle. And in his eyes…

This was why the Elders never trusted Jeff Tracy! Even at his most noble, his most gentle, the shadow of his demonic forefather lurked under the surface. Gabriel stared warily into the black depths as the shadowy wings encircled them both, reacting ethereally to Jeff's need to attack.

"Don't shut my doors? You rejected us! You were the ones with the lock in your hands at the end of the day! You claimed to love her? You left her to die!" Jeff words carried the hiss of sharpened steel.

"I never wanted to leave her there…"

"But you did," Jeff thrust him to the floor. "You claim the name of the angel in Heaven and all the advantages that brings but you're just a Whitelighter, Gabriel. A human who died and came back. Being human means having choices. You rubbed that in my face often enough. You chose. I'm living by that choice."

Gabriel slowly got himself to his feet. "You never were one for conforming to the rules. There are rules, remember? We have to balance thousands of lives, trying to keep the innocent safe. Don't preach to me, Jeff. In my time I've had to make a thousand choices that have kept me up at night. I haven't slept in fifty years," Gabriel's smile was bittersweet.

Jeff shrugged, his own personal universe broken and unmoved. "I don't preach. But I do state. And I promise you if I ever see you anywhere near any of my sons again, I will learn to live with the consequences of what I will do." The wings, for a single moment, seemed almost real.

Gabriel raised his hands in submission. "Just as you say." There was a swirl of lights and Gabriel vanished into a brilliant blizzard of glitter.

Up in his room, Alan was crying inconsolably. He knew the feelings even if he didn't know the words. Jeff sighed and picked him up. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "Daddy's sorry, babyface. I just can't seem to do anything right," Jeff smile was a broken, tired thing. "Not without her." He hugged Alan tighter as the tiny toddler let out a sob.

"But I can at least keep my promises," Jeff whispered into Alan's hair as he rocked him. I will keep the one promise we made. One normal life. Five normal lives, because what good did the other way bring us, except to find each other. Being human means having choices. My sons will have the choice.

"Say Alan," he looked up from his trance and gently jiggled his son playfully. "How about we go out to get some ice cream, just you and me? How does that sound?"

Alan brilliant blue eyes were glowing and aware. More aware than most. His tiny, chubby hands started playing with Jeff's shirt collar as the mood changed.

Jeff grinned. Alan grinned back. "I'll take that as a yes."

He could do work any day.

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The End