Chapter One
(Nighttime scenes of San Francisco - Song: "Dancing in the Moonlight," Rick Monroe)
"No! Absolutely not! No way!" The dark-haired, young man crossed his arms in a moment of defiance. This was it. He meant business this time. He understood destiny, but didn't destiny understand the importance of a college degree? One he certainly would never earn at this rate, if he kept blowing off his studies for every supernatural occurrence in the city of San Francisco.
Realizing he would not escape this task easily, he pulled out a chair and sat down at the kitchen table, awaiting his instructions. The kitchen. His eyes did a brief scan around the room, taking it all in. It looked the same, as always. Granted a few potion disasters and several vanquishes had taken place there, but it was the same kitchen from his childhood. It was the same kitchen from the 1920s, actually, when his family first moved into the house they dubbed "The Manor." And all these generations later, despite the numerous opportunities to remodel, his mother kept it exactly the same. "Honoring their heritage," she replied one day many years ago when he asked her about it. Didn't they already do that, honor their heritage, every day they fought evil?
The taller, blonde young man stepped forward and pulled out a chair for himself, taking a seat at the table as well. He looked across the table at his brother, pity in his eyes. Pity not for his situation, but instead for his lame attempt to wriggle out of it. Everyone wanted to skip demon duty now and then, but whining was not the way to go about it. Their aunt was a reasonable woman. She spent many years trying to balance a social life with a supernatural one. Surely, she would respond to simple reasoning. He turned in his chair to face the spot she had orbed to, leaned back and crossed his arms. "See, what your slightly neurotic nephew is trying to say is, I have a date, he's got an exam to study for, and we just don't have time to vanquish demons right now."
Paige Matthews looked at her nephews with a mixture of anger and disappointment written on her face. She had been a formidable witch in her and her sisters' demon-fighting heydays, but was now a well-respected Whitelighter, keeping future Whitelighters on the path to good and guiding witches in their fight against evil. When she was first assigned her nephews as charges, she thought fighting evil together would enhance their relationship. What she didn't count on was the constant arguing and coercing she had to do in order to get them to agree to the tasks. Then again, it really shouldn't have been a surprise. They were just like their mother, Piper, constantly doing battle to have a "normal" life. It looked like this would be one more night of arguments and guilt trips. "Don't have time to vanquish demons right now? Don't have time to vanquish demons right now?!" She threw her arms up into the air in disgust. "Fine! I'll just tell the innocent 'sorry, my nephews just don't have time to save you right now.' I'm sure she'll understand."
"That is so not fair!" Chris shouted, jumping out of his chair and knocking it over in the process. "I am about to fail Physics, okay. And if I fail, that's it; I'm out of school. I don't need the innocent guilt trip." The young man saw his aunt's unwavering look and sighed in defeat. He bent over, righted the chair, and sat back down. "You play dirty, you know that, right?"
Wyatt uncrossed his arms, letting them drop to his sides, and let out an exasperated sigh. His brother could be so dramatic! Although, he knew his brother had a good reason to overreact this time. He really did need to haul his butt to the library and bury his nose in a book. Resigning himself to the fact that he would be pulling demon duty alone tonight he asked, "Okay, what demon is it?"
"The Elders suspect it may be the Thorn Demon."
Wyatt placed his hands above the kitchen table, palms facing the ceiling and closed his eyes, orbing the Book of Shadows to him. He placed the ancient book of spells, which had been handed down in his family for many generations, on the table and using his power of telekinesis, held his hands over it and flipped through its pages. The flipping started to slow down and then stopped. The book was open to a page with 'Thorn Demon' written across the top in calligraphy. Below that was a picture of a head with thorns protruding from it and a few paragraphs on the nature of the demon. "He's here in the book," Wyatt said, and began to read aloud. "A lower-level demon who poisons its victims by spitting thorns at them." He rolled his eyes. "Figures. There's a vanquishing potion, and I have my powers as backup; nothing I can't handle on my own." He looked up at his brother. "You head off to the library; I got this."
Chris looked at his older brother in surprise. It wasn't everyday he got a free pass from a vanquish because Wyatt decided to go it alone. Besides, they were raised to work together on all things supernatural. "That hardly seems fair. Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I'm sure." Chris opened his mouth to protest, but Wyatt cut him off before he could get in a word. "Seriously, go study, because if we're ever going to be able to move out of the Manor, I'm going to need you to cover your half of the rent." Chris's expression changed from concern to slight annoyance. Seeing this Wyatt smiled in an act of reassurance. "I'll just reschedule the date for nine instead of eight. It's no big deal. Really. Now go study."
"Only if you're sure," Chris said, stalling a bit. Just his luck he would head out to the library, only to have to orb to some dark alley and vanquish the Thorn Demon.
"I'm positive. Now would you just go already? You need all the study time you can get."
Chris sneered at his brother. "Yeah, thanks. Call if you need me." He stood up, grabbed his backpack, car keys, and an apple off the center island and headed for the front door. "Good luck!" he shouted at his brother before shutting the door behind him.
"Wait! I need the keys!" Wyatt shouted after his brother. But the hum of the car engine told him he was too late, and Chris was already on his way. "Looks like I'm borrowing Mom's car," he mumbled to himself.
The eldest Halliwell stood up and pointed at the opened Book of Shadows. He walked towards the center island, the book following him. He grabbed some herbs from the kitchen cabinet, filled a cast iron pot with water, and set it over the flame he lit on the stove. Wyatt looked up at his aunt, arms crossed and a look of determination on his handsome features. "Now, where do I find this demon?"
Chris walked into the library of the City College of San Francisco and sighed. With the exception of someone bent over a book at the table in the back corner, the library was deserted. Then again, it was Friday night. "I'm probably the only idiot failing physics," he muttered to himself, walking towards a table two over from the fellow student and as far from the librarian as he could get.
He dropped his bag onto the table and began to unpack: textbook, notes, highlighters in several colors, and his iPod. He sat down, put the speakers in his ears and reached for his textbook. He had only opened the cover, though, when he realized he had forgotten to charge his iPod. "Damnit!" he muttered under his breath. He looked around the library; the student two tables over, a young girl, was studying her notes intently, and the librarian was typing on the computer at the checkout counter. Concentrating, he ignited a charge on the tip of his index finger, and placed it on the corresponding spot on his iPod, charging it. "It's not personal gain if passing physics keeps Mom and Dad from killing me," he whispered to himself.
Chris didn't know how long he'd been studying; it felt like forever. And still it felt like none of the information was sinking in. What was he going to do? He could not fail. He removed the earphones from his ears, the music still pumping through and could be faintly heard from their place on his notebook. He stretched his arms out in front him and then began to rub his neck, working out the kinks from burying his nose in the books, when a shadow passed over him. He looked up, and standing in front of him was the girl who had been sitting two tables over. She was fidgeting and her delicate features wore a nervous expression. Yet the light shining from behind gave her an almost angelic appearance. "Excuse me, I'm sorry to interrupt," she said. "But, you're in Professor Hinkleback's physics class on Mondays and Thursdays, right?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I am." Chris closed his textbook and leaned back in his chair. He knew he should be studying, but part of him was thankful for the distraction. It didn't hurt that she was easy on the eyes, either.
"I thought you looked familiar." She smiled, and although he could see it was genuine, he could also see she wasn't comfortable approaching strangers. Her right heel began to go up and down at a quick pace and she pushed a lock of shoulder-length brown hair behind her right ear, obvious nervous habits. "I'm sorry to impose, but I was wondering if you could quiz me." She held out a stack of index cards with questions written in her neat cursive. "I can quiz you, too, if you'd like. It's just that," she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then continued, "I'm really having a hard time with this class and could use the extra help." She opened her eyes -- green, like he imagined Ireland to be -- and looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. There was fear and desperation.
The corners of his mouth turned upwards. "You're not the only one," Chris responded, happy to know he wasn't the only one with this dilemma. "Sure, sit down," he said, gesturing to the chair across from him.
She quickly turned and grabbed her books and bag off the other table, then returned to sit down across from him. "Thank you so much. I really appreciate it," she said, placing her backpack on the chair to her right and spreading her books and notes out in front of her. "I swear, if I make it through this semester, it'll be a miracle."
"You're not kidding!" Chris said, happy to commiserate with someone who finally understood his dire situation. "I usually don't have trouble with sciences. Heck, I'm a chem major for crying out loud. But this guy . . . " He threw his hands up into the air in frustration. "It's like he wants us to fail or something!"
"Shh!" The two students looked up to the librarian immerge from the stacks, a finger to her lips and a disapproving look on her face. They turned their heads back towards each other and smiled.
"Yeah, when he walked in," she said, lowering her voice so the librarian wouldn't scold them again, "and wrote his name on the blackboard, saying we would need to know how to spell it for when we dropped the course, I should have taken that as a hint."
"You and me both," Chris said, shaking his head at his own naivety. He, too, learned quickly that Professor Hinkleback was no joke. He had found high school to be a fair challenge and had been looking forward to taking it to the next level in college. He heard rumors about his physics professor soon after he registered for the course, but brushed it off. However, it only took his second week of class to find out the rumors were indeed true: Professor Hinkleback was an asshole. Up until now he had suffered alone and in silence, so it was nice to sit with a classmate and air out his frustrations. It was also nice to have found a study partner, even if it was just for tonight. He didn't think he was going to scrap a decent grade on his own at this point. "So, how do you want me to quiz you?"
"Just pick a note card and read me the question," she instructed, handing the cards to him, smiling as their eyes met across the table. "The answer is written on the same side."
"All right," he said, quickly scanning the cards and shuffling them. He looked up at his classmate. Her were closed and she was mouthing formulas to herself. He smiled. "I'm Chris, by the way," he introduced himself. "Chris Halliwell."
"Duh! Sorry about that," she apologized, opening her eyes and a nervous giggle escaping her lips. "I'm Cassandra Cole, but you can call me Cassie."
"Nice to meet you, Cassie. Here's your first question . . . "
The alley was dark and dank until a swirl of white and blue lights appeared, illuminating the way. When the orbs disappeared, Paige and Wyatt came into view. The young man looked around, observing his surroundings, a frown full of disgust on his handsome features. "You know, just once I'd like to orb someplace a little more cheerful to vanquish a demon." He looked down in time to see a rat cross his path, heading for the dumpster emitting a foul odor. "Ugh."
His aunt turned to him and smiled. "What? You expect demons not to hang out in dark, dank alley ways?"
Wyatt shrugged, admitting defeat. "Well, it'd be a refreshing change, for once."
The two began to search the alleyway, spreading out, but making sure to keep each other in their sights. "Here, demon, demon, demon. Here, demon, demon, demon," Wyatt whispered, using the taunts to lure the Thorn Demon out into the open. "Come on, you useless piece of crap. Let's get this show on the road so I can meet my date."
"Now, Wyatt. You know everything has a purpose, even evil," Paige addressed her nephew. She was always teaching her charges that everything has purpose because destiny always gets its way. However, one look from her nephew told her that particular lesson would have to wait another day. She continued to comb the alley, and a soft grunt caught her attention. The Thorn Demon was standing over a young woman lying on the ground, her charge and a future Whitelighter by the name of Charity. "Hey! Over here!" Paige shouted, distracting the demon from its prey.
The demon looked up, examining Paige and Wyatt. He looked back and forth between the two, trying to decide who was the bigger threat, who to go after first. He didn't get the chance, though, because with the first step he took forward both Paige and Wyatt threw their potions at him. The potions hit the target, making small explosions on impact. However, the demon only took two steps backwards instead of being vanquished on the spot, clearly immune to what should have been a fatal potion.
"Uh-oh, that's not good," Paige remarked, slowly backing up as the Thorn Demon refocused its attention on her and her nephew, advancing once again. "That potion should have worked. He must have picked up some extra powers along the way."
"Oh, gee, you think?" Wyatt said, his voice oozing with sarcasm. "Hey! Thorny!" he shouted at the demon, redirecting its attention from Paige to himself. He whistled, and the demon finally looked at Wyatt and started advancing. "You're toast," Wyatt told the demon. And with that, he raised both hands, palms out, and using his combustion power turned the demon to ashes.
"Impressive."
"Thanks," Wyatt said. He checked his watch, his eyebrows raised at the time. If he didn't hurry, he was going to be late. "Now if you don't mind, I've got a date to get ready for." And with that, he orbed out.
"So, you're a chem major, huh?" Cassie asked, both bewildered and amazed. "I don't know if that makes you smart, or just plain crazy." She twirled a pen between her fingers and a soft smile appeared on her face. Despite how it looked, with books, papers and note cards spread all over the table, Chris and Cassie had abandoned their study session a half-hour ago and were getting to know each other.
"I like to think a little bit of both," Chris responded, a coy smile on his lips. God, it felt good to flirt again! He'd been so wrapped up in demon duty and not flunking physics, he had almost forgotten what it was like to be a red-blooded, nineteen-year-old male. Almost. "What about you?"
"History. It was the only subject that interested me enough to take 84 credits. Not quite sure what I'm going to do with it, though, once I graduate." For the first time in a long time, Cassie felt herself relax. For what felt like years she'd been running around between school, the hospital, and trying to keep the condo in order; she had forgotten what it was like, to be a teenager. But sitting here in the library, talking with Chris, she felt almost . . . normal. "What about you? What are you going to do with a degree in chemistry?"
Chris shook his head and smiled. "You're not the first to ask that question. And honestly, I have no clue." He leaned back in his chair so it was on its rear legs and began to rock. "I certainly can't see myself sitting in a lab or anything. Chemistry was just something I was always good at and I thought it would be easier, choosing it as a major. Of course, that was before I learned I had to take physics as well and met Professor Hinkleback. What's his deal, anyway?"
"He's a heartless ass." Cassie's tone was cold, stoic. Her face was set in a grave expression, the corners of her mouth turned down. A dark shadow passed over her features, and there was something behind her eyes. He saw disgust, and a lot of pain.
"Whoa. You're not harboring hateful feelings or anything, huh?" Chris put his chair on all fours and leaned forward, resting his arms in front of him on the table, concerned etched in his face.
Cassie dropped her head down to look at her hands, folded on the table in front of her, like a scorned child. "Not hateful, just . . . " She took a deep breath and raised her head, meeting Chris's concerned gaze. "Let's just say, I'm not a big fan."
"I can see that."
Cassie exhaled, unaware that she had been holding her breath up until that point. She kneaded her shoulders, working out the knots. She always tensed up when she was stressed. "I've been having . . . a rough semester. Personally, that is. And all of my other professors have been a little lenient, but Hinkleback could care less. As if the subject matter wasn't hard enough, I have to deal with this guy, too!" She dropped her head down, forehead resting on her arms. She knew how that would appear, that she was being overly dramatic, which was the last impression she wanted to give. But she didn't have any other choice. Because if she continued to look at Chris, look into those warm, caring green eyes, she would surely break down and cry.
"Hey," he said softly, attempting to get her attention. His breath caught in his throat when she picked up her head and he saw the hurt, panic and frustration in her eyes. He had a hard time believing this was the girl who asked him to quiz her, who joked with him about Professor 'Tinkleback,' and who possibly knew more about baseball than he did. His mother always called him 'the sensitive one,' and that side was urging him to do whatever he could for this girl. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
"Well, actually, do you think we could have more study sessions? If you don't mind, that is," she quickly added on, not wanting to come across as needy and imposing. "There was no evening section of this class," she went on to explain, "so I was forced to sign up for the afternoon one, but I always end up getting there late or missing it altogether because there's so much traffic at that time of day between here and Memorial."
"The hospital?"
"Yeah, my mother is a patient there." There was a pregnant pause and Cassie mentally debated whether or not to disclose her mother's diagnosis. It was only natural to keep it to herself, but she hadn't talked to anyone about her mother's illness except her doctors, and the strain of keeping the information to herself was wearing on her. She needed a release. "Breast cancer."
Chris swallowed the lump in his throat. The possible loss of a parent was hardly unfamiliar to him, considering his family's line of work. But his family was good at escaping death, and many times there were magical ways to avoid it. Cancer, on the other hand, was much more finite. "Sure, we can have all the study sessions you need." He reached out across the table, placed his hand over hers, and gave it a soft squeeze. "No problem."
Cassie looked down at their hands, skepticism starting to creep into her mind. When she first approached Chris she had a gut feeling, that he was honest, that he could be trusted. He didn't seem the type to 'take advantage of her vulnerability.' And she still felt that way, yet she couldn't help asking, "You're not pitying me, are you?"
"Well, I'd be lying if I didn't say that I feel bad, but no one understands family emergencies better than I do. Besides, it was nice to study with you instead of suffering through this material on my own. So call me, and we'll study together when you can." He ripped a piece of paper out of his notebook and jotted down his cell phone number. "You have a better chance of getting a hold of me on my cell than at home," he explained, handing her the paper.
She folded the paper in half and placed it inside her textbook. A sense of relief washed over her; she just might survive this semester after all. She smiled softly, appreciatively. "Thanks. It means a lot."
"Don't mention it. Now, I don't know about you," Chris said, capping his pen and closing his textbook, "but I've had enough of physics for one night. What do you say we get out of here?" He looked at her expectantly, figuring she would decline, but hoping she would accept his offer.
Cassie mulled it over. She really should get home. If she cleaned the condo tonight that would be a few extra hours she would have at the hospital, visiting her mother. But then the words her mother spoke just this afternoon rang in her mind: "Just because I'm dying, doesn't mean my daughter should stop living." She thought about how happy her mother would be, the smile that would appear on her face, if she was told her daughter spent Friday night making a friend and going out. That alone would make it worth it. The toilets and dust could wait another day. "Sure. What did you have in mind?"