On The Edge Chapter 5, a charmed fanfic

Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own any of the Charmed characters, except my original character Jordan. He's all mine.

I've been really irregular about updating, but I had a creative moment. I contemplated waiting another week before uploading, just so y'all wouldn't get too overexcited, but I couldn't stand the thought of holding out on you dear readers. So here is chapter five.

On the Edge: Chapter five

Fuck.

After all that—convincing Darryl to let him go on the premise that he'd lay low, trying to keep his presence a secret, and his powers diluted—the Holy Trinity of Good Witches just had to bust in, guns blazing.

There was no way around it now. Jordan just hoped that Chris would have a good plan to talk them out of this one, or the young man feared that he'd soon be on the receiving end of one of those vanquishing potions flying through the air like missiles.

The sisters were throwing potion after potion, Phoebe and Paige armed like an arsenal, while Piper blew them up in groups with her sharp flicks of her hands.

Perhaps the sisters being here wasn't such a bad thing after all. More firepower was good, but more eyes were better. Easier to stay alive if there are others watching out for you.

A pang of remorse hit him when he realized that they weren't going be watching out for a stranger that could very well have been one of the demons that was trying to kill their whitelighter.

Unexpectedly, however, the Triad of Sister witches moved towards the two, moving in a protective half-circle around their whitelighter. Piper cast a glance at Jordan, but apparently deemed him not as dangerous as the threat in front of them, for she turned her gaze back to the dwindling wall of fiery orbs that were careening towards them.

A sigh of relief escaped him and he slumped down by Chris, bone weary, and closed his eyes a moment, thanking the powers that be that the sisters were still alive at this point in time.

A sandy shuffling came his way, and assumed the Charmed Ones were walking towards him. He had to admit they worked fast when properly motivated.

He opened his eyes to thank them for coming and saving the two future dwellers, but couldn't quite get the words out.

He felt speaking would be an immediate threat to his health.

Piper stood in the middle of the threesome, her hands ready to blow him up should he move too quickly. Paige and Phoebe stood at her sides, each armed with a potion and a nasty glare.

"Get away from him if you want to live."

That was all the warning they would give him, it seemed. He got to his feet slowly, making sure to keep his hands visible to each of them.

"Relax, I'm not a threat—"

"Like hell you aren't. Move over that way and I might not blow you up." Piper's voice was steely and she left no room for argument, as her head titled to the left sharply.

"Okay, okay, easy," he surrendered, his hands held in the air in a placating gesture.

Rationalizing that Chris was just as safe with his family as he was with him, Jordan moved a safe distance away and let the sisters rush to the whitelighter like he knew they would.

Phoebe kept a potion trained on him at all times, while her other hand held Paige's arm in anticipation of making a fast get away.

"Okay, Paige, let's go," Jordan heard Piper command.

The group dematerialized in a brilliant shower of coalescing shimmers.

Jordan had to gape at their audacity, leaving him in the middle of a underground demonic streetfight.

He didn't have to brood long.

In a flurry of arms, legs, and blue orbs, the escaping group of witches was thrown back to the floor with a barrage of thumps and grunts, and one well said,

"What the hell?"

Paige's voice was furious, and no small amount of confusion showed on her beautifully angry face.

"Paige, what happened? Why can't we leave?" Piper hissed, bringing her arm up to block the heat of a fireball that came too close to her head for comfort. She flicked the same hand out and was rewarded with the painful scream of a dying demon.

"I don't know, I don't know!" The youngest Halliwell sputtered, clearly bewildered and out of sorts, as she dragged Chris behind a boulder and took cover for herself.

"You," Phoebe spat, glaring at the young man hiding across from them, the demon that had been found next to Chris. "Demon, what did you do?" Her voice was venomous, and she noted the other flinch with pride.

"No, not me," he defended, holding his hands up as before to gesture at himself. He hunkered lower behind the large crag-like rock as an energy ball skimmed the air over his head. "I didn't do any of this. I got here just before you did. I have no fucking idea why you can't orb out of here," he said, eyes wide and incredulous at the glares he was getting.

Piper was about to open her mouth and curse him for using such language with her sister, when the man in question suddenly jumped up and hurled his own crackling defense at the warlocks and upper level demons still assaulting them with their own vicious onslaught of power, and dove to the sisters' side of refuge.

"Wait," he cried, holding his hands up in defense when Phoebe took aim with a potion.

The eldest witch, taking her eyes away from her seething younger sister, suddenly noticed the wound still trickling blood on his bicep, and began to wonder just who this guy was.

"Listen to me," he was panting by now, a combination of what Piper thought to be exhaustion and anxiety. "It's obvious you can't—" he ducked a low flying energy ball nearly too late. "—get out of here by orbing—"

"We can manage," Piper spat, her suspicion overruling her slight concern fro his wellbeing.

"Just let me help!" He shouted desperately, raising his voice over an explosion behind him.

"We don't need you! You're a demon," Phoebe screamed back at him.

The boulder behind the other arguer suddenly shattered in a fit of dust and debris, and ex-chef heard him curse, his arms flying up to cover his neck and head.

"I don't have time for this!" he growled, and latched onto Phoebe and Paige, who already had a hold of Chris.

"Hey!" Piper screeched, eyes going wide. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

The guy just rumbled deep in his throat and shoved Phoebe towards Paige, linking their arms with no small force. He held onto the columnist's other arm and snatched Piper's hand, ignoring her outraged look as he lifted his face to hers and looked her intensely in the eyes.

"I'm saving your life."

Wails and high-pitched keening was not normal for baby Wyatt; he was normally such a sweet, quiet toddler, who got along with most any situation.

Now was not one of those times.

He was inconsolable at the moment—had been for about an hour. Sheila was bouncing him on her hip and trying to get him to take the pacifier that had been in his silent mouth before. Darryl had watched her try singing to him, changing him, and even feeding him, but nothing was working.

"Darryl," Sheila's worried voice had the cop looking up from his task of putting away the baby food Wyatt did seem to want to eat. "I can't figure out what's wrong. He's not calming down," she sighed and pressed a kiss onto his forehead. The baby's face was pink from screaming so long. The experienced mother looked back up at her husband. "He was fine just a little while ago."

She took to bouncing him some more, walking around the island in the kitchen a few more times.

"Honey, I don't know. I've never seen him like this before. Usually when he starts crying, he's clutching that teddy bear of his—" Darryl was cut off by his over-excited wife.

"That's it! Where's his teddy? Doesn't he always have it with him when he's here?" Sheila asked, cradling the back of the baby's curly head and making small shushing noises.

"Yeah, where's his bag, I haven't seen it," Darryl said, looking around the kitchen after putting the food in the fridge. There was plenty more for the boy—they always kept some supplies at their home for him.

"Darryl," his wife's tone of voice had him meeting her eyes warily. "Paige never brought a bag. She just brought him and left. The only thing he's got is his pacifier, but only 'cause he had it in his mouth when he came."

The Lieutenant looked at his wife for a moment, his hand absent mindedly drifting to pet the screaming Halliwell child on the back. "Something's going on here—we need to talk to the girls." His voice was heavy when he spoke.

Sheila looked away, down at the floor, but eventually nodded. She hefted the baby into her arms again, into a better position and opened her mouth, "What about Wyatt? He needs stuff. Now."

"I know, I know," Darryl sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, moving to lean against the counter after taking Wyatt from his wife to give her a break. "The little guy'll just end up orbing over there on his own if we don't get it. We'll just have to drive to their house and—"

"Dad!"

"Daddy!"

"Soccer game!" His two sons cheered in unison as they came barreling through the kitchen door. DJ paused at the sight of the baby crying in his arms.

"What's wrong with, Wyatt?" he asked, resting the soccer ball on his jersey clad hip. His younger brother, Michael, came to stand next to him, looking up at his parents with pouty eyes.

"We're gonna miss the game aren't we?" the boy dropped his bag where he stood and sighed petulantly.

"No sweetie," Sheila cooed, walking towards her son to give him a warm caress through his hair. Darryl was never so thankful for her than at times like these. "Wyatt's just a little fussy. We need to go pick up something from his house before we head to the game, okay?"

The Morris' youngest boy nodded, and took his previously discarded bag from his mother.

DJ brought the ball in front of him, fiddling with it as he asked his parents, "We won't be late?"

"Promise," Darryl said, smiling at his son, before trying to calm Wyatt down once more.

"Okay," Sheila said, clapping her hands once. "Everybody get your stuff, and get in the car—we got ourselves a game to win! Woo!"

"Moooom," DJ larked, turning and leaving with a smile, his brother behind him.

The cop watched his wife turn to him, and couldn't help but bestow a chaste kiss on her smiling lips.

"I love you, you know that right?" Darryl thanked God that Wyatt had quieted down a bit during the whole conversation, but cringed when he started up again, now that the conversation had died down.

Sheila smiled at him.

"You got that right, Chief," she smirked, taking Wyatt out of her husband's arms and walking out of the kitchen with the persnickety baby. "What'ca think, baby boy? What do you say we go get your teddy bear, Huh? Yeah…"

Darryl listened to his wife cooing at the child all the way out the kitchen with a disbelieving grin on his face when he heard the child giggle a little.

"The car seat's still in the backseat, right?" He heard her call back.

"Yeah!" He yelled back at her, grabbing his keys off the counter and lumbering off towards the door.

The Halliwell's were going to be the death of him.

TBC...

Well, that's all for now. You've had two updates in the span of about a week, so now I'm going to hole myself away and write some more mindblowing chapters (grins)

Gracias por los reviews.

Por favor, review para mi sanidad mental.