Disclaimer: Look at that, you made me cry… because I still don't own Chris and Wyatt Halliwell or Charmed. I'm not making any money writing this. Blah, blah, blah… finish the disclaimer however you like. I'm going to go find a tissue.
Author's Note: With this Chapter, I've pretty much reached the halfway point. Since I don't have a lot of time left to say anything else, and don't really have a lot to say at the moment anyway: Read and Review!
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Destined: The Charmed Sons
Episode 1.1, Pilot: The Crucible
Chapter Four
Wyatt leaned on D.J. as he tried to catch his breath. The half-manticore kept looking at him in concern as the color slowly began to return to Wyatt's face and his pulse returned to normal. Wyatt rubbed his neck again before he finally let go of D.J. to stand on his own without support.
"What do you mean 'that was new'?" D.J. inquired, "What was new? You've gotten premonitions since we were Seniors in High School..."
"Not like this, I haven't," Wyatt said, his blue eyes looking dubiously at the pew. He tentatively put his hand on it again, but this time nothing happened. He wasn't quite sure whether to be worried or relieved. D.J. was just looking at him in confusion now.
"It was like I was there D.J. like, I don't know..." Wyatt paused trying to think of a way to describe it, "It was kind of like I astral projected myself into the premonition somehow. But I don't do astral projection. I saw everything first hand, just like I'm looking at you right now... and felt it too."
Wyatt was touching his neck again and D.J. raised an eyebrow at him above his glasses, "Felt what?" Wyatt shook his head, unwilling to say, so D.J. sighed and changed his question, "Alright then, what did you see?"
"A big guy with an axe, killing a male witch right here," the blonde gestured to the spot, "and a woman over there. She burst into flames, so my guess is that she was a demon or a maybe a warlock. Then the guy took something, a necklace, from the witch."
"Okay, what else?" D.J. asked.
"A darkened courtroom set up for some kind of ritual," Wyatt said. He moved away from the pew and from D.J. to begin pacing thoughtfully back and forth. Wyatt was rubbing his chin with his hand, "Okay, let's go over this... when did this start?"
"About two days after you got to Boston and moved in with Chris. There've been four in the month since. I went to check out a couple of them, but came up empty handed. This is number five."
"All of them male witches," Wyatt continued thinking aloud. He was betting that each of them had necklaces taken from them after they were killed.
"Now that you mention it," D.J. said, "You're right. I didn't really think about that before."
"Neither did I to be honest," Wyatt admitted, "But I did think of what our next move is."
D.J. was about to ask what that was, but Wyatt was already walking back out of the church and into the daylight outside. He closed his eyes and tried to shimmer again, only to have the wave of neausea return from the attempt. What choice did he have but to follow Wyatt to find out what this 'next move' was? He was so dead once Chris got a hold of him, but if he could manage to keep Wyatt out of too much trouble maybe he could request his execution to be quick and painless.
Andrea was waiting for them just outside and she caught Wyatt as he was passing. The female detective rested a hand on his arm, "I take it from the focussed look in your eyes that you got something?"
"You always were perceptive," Wyatt said with a smirk.
"And you're not going to tell me what it was?" she was asking when D.J. caught up to the Twice Blessed Witch.
Wyatt thought of telling her 'no', but she was giving him that look. The one she had always given him when she knew he was about to keep something from her. Did mother's teach their daughters that look? It seemed every woman Wyatt had ever met had known it and just how to use it to their advantage. Maybe it was just that Wyatt was especially vulnerable to it. Or maybe it was him trying to make it up to Andrea that he hadn't been in touch with her in so long and she had let him into the crime scene when she could just have easily have told him to go jump in a lake.
"He was a witch," Wyatt said, "and there was a big guy - when I say big, I mean Andre the Giant big - with an axe. That was who killed him. Also you may want to check the circular scorch mark in the back corner of the church, it used to be a person."
Andrea had pulled a small notepad out of her coat and was writing notes down on it. Wyatt kept on, "When you figure out who the victim was, you may want to check with his family about a necklace and see if it has any significance. My guess is that the other four victims are missing necklaces too if you check into it."
When Wyatt had said all that he was going to say, Andrea looked up at him, "Thanks, Wyatt. That'll be a big help." He grinned at her and she just had to add with a wry tone, "But you're still not off the hook for not keeping in touch with me."
The young man's smile faded and Andrea rolled her eyes at him with a laugh. She flipped to a blank page in her little notebook and wrote something on it. The sound of ripping paper was followed by her handing it to Wyatt, "That's my cellphone number, Halliwell. If you find anything else, call me? If you don't remember how, I'm sure D.J. can show you."
Andrea squeezed D.J.'s arm and gave the half-manticore a kiss on the cheek as she left the two young men, in order to return to work. Wyatt gaped after her, then turned to frown at D.J. "If you were anyone else, I think I would be turning green right now."
D.J. smirked at Wyatt, "Can I help it if women find my boyish charm completely irrisistable?"
Wyatt rolled his eyes, "Come on, Cassanova, we've got courthouses to check out."
D.J. winced as Wyatt grabbed his hand and started pulling him towards an alley. He had completely forgotten Wyatt said something about a courthouse. He had failed to mention that part to Andrea. "We're not going to..." once they were out of sight from the crowd, Wyatt and D.J. vanished in a swirl of blue and white lights.
The raven on the rooftop was looking down into the alley and once the pair dissapeared, it 'cawwed' and flapped its wings to fly away.
---------------------------Fade to Black------------------------
The sidewalks of the college campus were bustling with students in between classes as Chris hefted his messenger bag and hurried as quickly as he could towards where his class was. A classmate whizzed past him on a skateboard and Chris barely avoided being plowed over by another who was running in the opposite direction. The youngest Halliwell brother dared a look at his watch and winced. He might make it before his name was read off of the role and avoid a tardy. It was too early in the semester to start accumulating them already.
The science building was ahead and Chris veered off the busy sidewalk to jog up the steps. Compared to the pathways outside, the halls of the building were quiet, since classes were in session or just starting. Chris didn't slow down, his class was at the end of one of the back halls of the building in one of the smaller lecture rooms.
His sneakers made a squeeling sound on the tiled floor as he slid to a stop in front of the door. Chris drew a breath, collected himself, and then stepped inside.
"Gibson, Nancy," the Professor was calling out, "Gordon, William."
Chris trotted down the stairs into the well of raised seats from the back of the room and got a few looks from his fellow students.
"Halliwell, Christopher."
"Present," Chris called as he sunk into his chair with a sigh of relief. The Professor looked up from the role, saw him and smiled before moving on to the next name.
One of Chris's classmates leaned over the back of the seats to whisper in Chris's ear, "Nice of you to join us Chris."
Chris grinned, pulling his notebook and the text out of his bag, "Yeah, well, I wouldn't want you to actually have to take notes for yourself Spencer." Digging a pen out too, Chris settled in for his first class of the day and waited for the lecture to begin.
---------------------------Fade to Black------------------------
Chicago's O'Hare Airport is a busy labarynth for those that are familiar with it, it's an almost impossible labarynth for those that aren't. Piper Halliwell and Leo Wyatt stepped off of their plane and into the terminal.
"Our next flight leaves out of what terminal?" Leo asked his wife. The former-whitelighter looked a little bit green around the gills as he set his feet back on solid ground again. Piper gestured vaguely towards the television screens that showed departures and arrivals, indicating that Leo should find it while she made a bee-line for the pay phones.
She sat down, slid a credit card through and started punching in the boy's number. While Piper was waiting for it to connect, listening to the ring in the earpiece, Leo walked back over to her. No one was answering. Piper gnawed on her lower lip and looked up at Leo.
"I got the gate number," Leo said.
Piper hung up the phone and continued to frown at it, "They aren't picking up. Something is wrong."
"Piper, stop worrying," Leo said, "Nothing is wrong. Chris had a class and Wyatt is probably still just out. Don't worry about it."
"I am worried though, Leo," she said, "I've got this horrible feeling..."
"I'm the one that got sick on the plane," Leo reminded her, "You're just nervous because we're going to see how independent and capable of taking care of themselves our two sons have become. You don't want to have to face the facts that our boys are all grown up, so you're trying to invent a scenario in your mind where they still need us."
Piper screwed her face into an indignant look, arms folding over her chest. Leo had a point, but it still didn't ease that nagging thought that there was something horribly wrong with one or both of her children. "Quit channeling my sister's psychiatric-babble at me," Piper said, "I just have a feeling, that's all."
"So, pick up the phone, call them back, and leave a message this time," Leo told his wife.
---------------------------Fade to Black------------------------
The late afternoon sun was hanging low in the sky as the day began to edge towards early evening. Between two large vans that obscured the sight from prying eyes a funnel of pure light coalesced into a pair of young men. D.J. drew his hand away from Wyatt immediately and leaned against the side of one of the vans, panting.
"I'm going to pass out," D.J. complained.
Wyatt ignored him, looking around the sides of the vans towards the last courthouse on their list. They had checked every other possible location in and around Salem and if this one turned up to be another wash out, Wyatt would have to go back to the drawing board.
"I'm serious Wyatt, everything is spinning and... oh... here it comes... the blackening vision... the fading strength..." D.J. said, sagging back against the van and lifting the back of his arm to his forhead in feigned (well, mostly) distress.
Wyatt glanced at him, "Quit being so melodramatic. Would you have preferred walking?"
D.J. straightened up, or at least he tried to before he put his hands to his middle and grimaced, "As opposed to orbing and feeling like I want to empty my stomach of its contents every time we do? Yes. The answer to that question is a resounding and emphatic 'yes'. "
"Oh, quit your whining, you big baby," Wyatt said.
"If you had let me take a break long enough to get my legs back under me, I could have shimmered here with you and we wouldn't be having this discussion," D.J. said.
"No, you would be shimmering back to Boston and getting Chris," Wyatt pointed out, "I know you too well D.J. and we're not getting my little brother involved in this if we don't have to."
D.J. shook his head, but didn't deny it, "This has got to be what? The tenth place we've checked?"
"Seventh."
"Are you sure that you saw what you think you saw?" D.J. asked, "I mean, maybe it was something else... maybe you just thought it looked like a courtroom, but it was really something else... did we really have to check every building including ones that used to be courthouses back-in-the-day?"
"I know what I saw D.J." Wyatt said, then started towards the building without waiting for him. "If this one isn't it, then we'll call it a night, deal?"
D.J. sighed, "Fine. It's not like I really have any choice anyway."
Wyatt walked from the parking lot up the small stone sidewalk, making his way towards the doors. A man was just stepping out and locking up the historic building as they climbed the stairs.
"Sorry, closing up for the day," the guy in the suit says, "Everyone's gone home. If you have something you need, you'll have to come back tomorrow."
"Whoops, ah well, looks like we're going to have to go home," D.J. said to Wyatt as the guy that had locked the place headed to the parking lot. The shaggy-haired man went to pat Wyatt's shoulder, but the witchlighter was already walking down the stairs and around the side of the building, undeterred. "Uh, Wyatt... the place is closed..."
"There's bound to be another way in," Wyatt said, crossing around the side of the building and checking windows, "I just want to take a quick look around."
D.J.'s eyes widened, apalled, "Wyatt, take a hint. It's a sign. This isn't the place, let's go home."
The third window Wyatt tried slid open easily, "Bingo." Wyatt grabbed the ledge and slid himself down inside the lower level window into what must have been a basement storeroom. Once he was in he looked up through the window at D.J. and flashed him a grin, "Coming?"
"Great, now let's add 'breaking and entering' to the list of crimes you're bent on committing today," D.J. says and grumbling slides in after him.
Wyatt smirked, "Did you see me break anything?"
"Okay, how about trespassing?" D.J. amended.
Wyatt surveyed the room they were in, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light inside as opposed to the brighter light outside. "Just a quick peak around and we'll leave, I swear."
Wyatt walks through the storeroom that they've gotten into and opens the door. D.J. turned and reached up to pull the window they'd climbed into down to hide signs of their entry. "That way if anyone happens to be walking by outside while you're trespassing, they won't get suspicious."
"Good idea," Wyatt said, then looked out into the room beyond the storeroom and froze as he surveyed it. It was the exact same room as his premonition. He could see more detail in it now. The pentagram was carved into the floor just as he had remembered it, in the front open space of the room. Towards the back, rows of empty benches. At the front a podium and two long low tables that seemed like altar tables. "...this is it," he whispered back to D.J.
D.J. stepped up to look over Wyatt's shoulder, "...great. We found it, let's leave now. We'll call Andy and let the cops handle--"
Wyatt was creeping across the room towards the podium, causing D.J. to curse softly under his breath.
"--this. Now I see why Chris is so damn neurotic..." D.J. hissed. Looking both ways, he snuck after Wyatt, "Wyatt, I've got a really bad vibe about this place. Seriously, let's go..."
Wyatt was already behind the podium, going through the stack of parchment papers that had been carefully laid there and frowning at the words. They were written in some other language and it definately wasn't a tongue that Wyatt was familiar with. He picked one up to show D.J. as the half-manticore joined him and went rigid with a sharp intake of breath. The image was full color and seen through the same eerily real sense as he had experienced for the first time earlier, like some part of him was really in that future moment.
Wyatt was coming out of a premonition, feeling exhausted. He had to grab hold of the podium to keep his legs under him.
"It happened again?" D.J. asked worriedly.
The main door into the room opened and a cloaked figure wearing a Venetian paper mache mask walked in. When the figure saw Wyatt and D.J. standing at the podium, with D.J. taking the paper from Wyatt. The figure reached into its cloak and pulled a gun out and aimed it towards the two, pulling the trigger. A small blue metallic dart stuck into D.J.'s neck and the half-manticore dropped to the ground with a thud.
Wyatt sucked in a breath when he opened his eyes from the vision and grabbed hold of the podium to keep his legs under him. Whoever was responsible for the progression of powers had picked a hell of a time for bestowing this one on him. D.J. was looking at him in concern.
"It happened again?" D.J. asked worriedly.
The door was opening and Wyatt looked towards it in time t see the cloaked figure aiming the dart gun at his friend. He was still feeling woozy from the astral jump to the future, or whatever it was, but he wasn't going to let D.J. get shot. Wyatt moved forward, giving D.J. a hard shove to the floor behind one of the heavy altars and dropped himself down behind the podium. Two more shots were fired, following the first, imbedding themselves into the front of the podium.
D.J. scrambled around to get a better crouching possition, "You don't pay me enough for this."
"I don't pay you at all," Wyatt commented.
"Exactly my point! I should start getting hazzard pay for being your friend!"
Wyatt leaned around the side of the podium and waved his hand at the shooter, telekenetically throwing the figure against the wall. The figure's mask dropped off and hit the floor as the man's head cracked against the wall, leaving a dent in the plaster. The dart gun went skittering across the floor. The shooter fell to the ground and sprawled unconcious and unmoving. Wyatt drew back behind the podium and blinked, putting his palms on the floor to brace himself. His vision swam hazily. He lifted a hand to pull a small blue, metallic dart from his neck and looked at it before he sunk to the floor.
"Can we leave now?" D.J. asked aloud. No response.
"Wyatt?" D.J. asks peeking around his piece of furniture towards his friend. No response. He sucked in a breath when he saw the blonde. "Wyatt!" There are sounds of more people coming and fast. "Shit," D.J. cursed, darting from his hiding place to scramble over next to Wyatt. The Twice-Blessed witch was laying in a crumpled heap behind the podium, with one of the shiny blue metallic darts on the floor next to him. He had been hit by it when he shoved D.J. out of the way.
"Oh, this is sooo not good," D.J. winced smacking Wyatt's face to try to rouse him. He moistened his lips and dared to look towards the door and the unconcious shooter.
Holding onto Wyatt, D.J. tried to shimmer them both out. He started to and then the wave of neausea from earlier came back with a vengeance. Hooking his hands under Wyatt's arms, he tried to drag the other man towards the storeroom to at least get them hidden. He knew he couldn't shimmer them out, not yet, and time was definately not on their side right now. "You need to go on a diet," he complained in a whisper as he drug as quickly as he could, "And your little idea of calling Chris for help doesn't really work when you get yourself knocked out."
The footsteps had reached the door and they were unlocking it now. D.J. breathed heavily as he pulled Wyatt faster into the storeroom. D.J. dropped Wyatt with a thump and closed the door just as the door to the main room opened. Swallowing down his fear, D.J. turned the lock and leaned against the door, looking helplessly at his unconcious friend.
---------------------------Fade to Black------------------------
"Here," Chris's chemistry lab partner said, holding a beaker of blue liquid towards Chris, "Measure this one out."
Chris had spent all day going from one class to the next, with a short break for lunch, and the rest of his time in the library studying in between. Now he was in his chemistry lab. One class to go after this one. He took the beaker from the short, Korean guy who was his lab partner. Seung Kwon busied himself in measuring some of the other ingrediants.
Wyatt was still out there, somewhere, and still masking his presence from his little brother. While Chris measured out the proper amount of the blue liquid, he wondered just what it was that Wyatt was up to. Then he smirked as he thought of what waited for his big brother when Wyatt came back to his room. Chris slid the blue liquid over to Seung and picked up another vial to begin measuring. He could hide himself for the rest of the day if he wanted to, but Chris had made sure he was going to take care of his landfill of a room.
Chris tilted his dark-haired head to one side as he measured, concentrating on it. Wyatt was somewhere to the north, Chris realized suddenly as the link 'came back online' so to speak. A frown creased the young man's face and he nearly dropped what he was working on. He did manage to set it down on the desk in time, before he sat down in his chair hard. Seung looked over at him curiously. Chris put a hand to his neck and rubbed at it, making a face, then gave himself a shake.
"You alright?" Seung asked.
"Yeah," Chris said, picking the glass beaker back up, shaking it off, "Okay, so, what are we supposed to be adding to--" Blackness. This wasn't like the masking that Wyatt had been relying on all day. This was sudden and forceful enough that he sensed it from as far away as he was. Chris dropped the beaker and only just managed to make it to the chair rather than the ground. "--actually, no. No, I'm not alright."
Seung frowned at the spilled chemicals and broken glass on the floor. The professor was making her way towards their table. "Maybe you should go outside and get some fresh air or something, you don't look so good," the Korean boy told Chris.
Chris nodded, getting to his feet and smiled worriedly. "Good idea," he said, "Excuse me..." He grabbed his bag and shuffledout of the classroom. What the hell was Wyatt doing? Chris wondered, suddenly worried. Chris ducked into the bathroom, checked to make sure all of the stalls were empty, then orbed away.
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Author's Note: Oh, and the contest deadline was extended by the way! So I just might manage to finish typing everything and converting it in time afterall. Please, please, pretty please hit that button at the bottom and write me a review.