Disclaimer: I don't own Charmed. Sad, but true.

Author's Note: Over 4,000 words later, the chapter is finally done. Whew! I spent some of the time between chapters writing a future story, though. So I hope to have lots for you to read in the future. But for now, please read the chapter, enjoy, and let me know what you think!

Chapter Three

Amid time and space, white, with a soft light glowing, a swirl of lights appeared to reveal a young, blonde man. "So, this is 'Up There'," Wyatt said softly to himself, taking in his surroundings. "Huh. Doesn't look like much."

"It's not designed to."

Wyatt turned around at the sound of the voice, and saw two Elders walking towards him. The younger of the two was quite tall. He had dirty blonde hair and wore an expression of determination. Perhaps he was as new to all this as Wyatt was himself. The older Elder, on the other hand, was shorter, a foot or so by Wyatt's approximation, and round. He had salt and pepper hair and wore a short beard. He continued to speak. "This is a sanctuary, a place of calm and peacefulness."

"Not one of those parties you like to frequent," the younger Elder interjected.

"Parties?" Wyatt asked in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner, but he feared he was unable to keep a guilty expression off his face.

"You think we don't know what you're up to?" the younger Elder continued, hints of anger and distain in his voice. "Ignoring your responsibilities, your birthright. You spend more time dating than vanquishing evil."

"So you're spying on me?" All guilt immediately left the young man and was replaced with intense anger. How dare they invade his life, his privacy! "Well, I'm sorry the 'twice-blessed child' isn't living up to your expectations. But I'm not here to just do your bidding and rid the world of evil. In case you've forgotten, I happen to be human, too." He stepped forward so he was nose-to-nose with the younger Elder. He looked him dead in the eye and his voice didn't waiver as he continued to speak. "And don't ever imply I don't save my innocents."

The two men continued to stare at each other, neither wanting to back down and be the first to break the gaze. Finally the older man stepped in. He slipped an arm around Wyatt's shoulder and steered him away from his fellow Elder.

"I understand, Wyatt. You're still discovering who you are, and how magic will fit into your life. It's only natural. But right now we need you. And I think this will be good for you, too. It'll allow you to explore another part of your magical heritage, and maybe show you who you can be." The older Elder started to walk forward, his arm still around the young Whitelighter in an effort to distract him from his earlier conflict. The younger Elder stood behind him, arms crossed in front of his chest, none too pleased to have his peer interfere in the confrontation.

"You're assigning me a charge, then?" Wyatt asked.

"Yes. A young woman will be coming into her powers soon. She's new to the world of magic, but a great destiny awaits her. She's going to need your help and guidance."

"And you . . . you think I'm ready for that?" There was a hint of nervousness in the young Whitelighter's voice. Just before he orbed to meet the Elders he felt butterflies in his stomach and a wave of excitement wash over him. His first charge! But now that he was here, and his charge was being handed to him, he was having doubts. Helping people, handling responsibility, that was Chris's forte. He, on the other hand, was the demon hunter, someone who operated best under the influence of adrenaline, not thought and reason.

"This is your time, Wyatt. And I wouldn't trust this task to anyone else." He held up a hand when the Whitelighter opened his mouth to speak. "Your brother has his own path, and will follow it in his own time. Trust us."

Wyatt snorted. "Easier said than done."

"True," the Elder smiled at the young man's candor. "But this is your destiny, and if there's one thing I know your family taught you, it's that you can't fight your destiny."

Wyatt dropped his head and stared at his shoes for a moment. When he raised his head, a soft smile graced his handsome features. "Destiny always gets its own way," he said softly, repeating the words his great-grandmother used to say and had become the Halliwell mantra. The young man's thoughts turned to the weekend's demonic activities, and he bit his bottom lip, deep in thought.

"Is there something else?" the Elder asked. It appeared to him the young man was having an inner struggle, trying to decide whether or not to speak his mind.

"Well, while I'm up here . . . I have a question." Feeling some courage, Wyatt took his offensive stance, legs shoulder-with apart and arms crossed in front of his chest. "The other night Aunt Paige and I tried to vanquish a Thorn Demon. A demon you sent us after, I might add. The vanquishing potion didn't work. Any chance you can tell me why?"

The two Elders exchanged glances, obviously trying to decided what, if anything at all, to tell the new Whitelighter. Finally, the older one began to speak. "Just like we sense this witch coming into her power, evil senses it too, but in a different way. This witch, she will have quite a formidable power, and evil can sense that. It's not unusual for lower-level demons to acquire additional powers, in an effort to protect themselves from any perceived threats."

"So, she's going to be vulnerable then. Until she fully comes into her power, that is," the younger Elder joined in.

The older Elder nodded in agreement to his peer's statement. "And for a while afterwards, too," he said, expanding on the explanation. "Just like your mother and aunts, it will take this new witch time to master her powers. Coming into your powers as an adult is very different from growing up with them as a child."

"Any chance you'll tell me what her power is?" Wyatt's question was met with silence. "No, I didn't think so," he said, scratching the scruff on his chin he neglected to shave when his head started ringing. He re-crossed his arms and sighed when the Elders still hadn't provided him with an answer. "Is there anything else?"

The eldest man licked his lips before beginning to speak. "Just remember: no one can fight who they are, who they're meant to be." The two men did not elaborate on this statement, and Wyatt took that to mean the conversation was finished. He nodded his head in assent, to let them know he got the message, then orbed back to the Manor.

"Do you think he understood, Amos?"

The older Elder sighed. "He will, Samuel, in time."

A dark-haired young man was leaning against the wall of the science building, just outside a classroom door. He was reading some of his notes, but looked up when he heard the door open. "Hey! Cassie!" Chris called after his classmate. The young woman stopped and turned when she heard her name, and he jogged to catch up with her. "How do you think you did?"

She sighed. "Honestly, not too bad," she replied, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder. "I just wish my notes had faired as well," she added with a frown, holding out the coffee-stained papers for him to see. On some the ink was merely smudged, but others were completely unreadable.

"Whoa! What happened?" the young man asked, surveying the mess.

"Collision in the quad," Cassie responded. "Do you think I could make copies of your notes, so I have them for the final?" she asked, spotting a trashcan a few steps away and depositing her soggy notes there.

"Yeah, sure. No problem. We'll just copy them the next time we're in the library." Chris hesitated, not sure how to voice what was on his mind. He would hardly call what they had a friendship; as far as he was concerned they were still acquaintances. But the Whitelighter in him couldn't help but be concerned, and it won-out. "How's . . . everything else?" he timidly asked.

"Oh, well, okay I guess," the young woman responded. She brushed a few stray strands of hair behind her ear and readjusted the strap of her bag again, her fidgeting indicating she was uncomfortable with this line of questioning. "I'm hanging in there." She flashed him a quick smile, as if to convince him of how okay she really was.

"Yeah." Chris bit on his bottom lip, not believing her, but not sure of what else to say. Finally, he decided to offer a helping hand if she felt she needed it. "You know, if there's anything else I can do for you . . . "

"Thanks for the offer, but no," Cassie quickly replied. Truth be told, she was a bit touched by his kindness. All he really knew about her was her dismal performance in the science fields. And while it was really tempting to reach out and accept his offer, she knew she couldn't. Some things you just had to do on your own. "I'm fine," she insisted. "Just gotta take it day by day."

Chris nodded. He knew he wouldn't get anywhere by forcing his presence or assistance on her. Hopefully, she would reach out on her own, when she felt she needed to. "Well, you have my number if you change your mind."

"Yeah, thanks. Oh, excuse me," Cassie said, thankful for the interruption, courtesy of her cell phone. "Hello?" There was a moment's pause then she directed her attention back to the young man standing before her. "This is the hospital," she explained, covering the mouthpiece with her hand. "I gotta take it."

"Sure, no problem. See you next class."

"See you." The young woman gave him a quick wave then directed her attention back to her phone once he was out of earshot. "This is Cassie," she said, redirecting her attention to the task at hand, her voice business-like. She was silent while the person on the other end spoke, but then let out an audible gasp. "Oh, no!" she cried, her free hand covering her mouth in shock.

Two days since he first heard the call from the Elders, Wyatt found himself orbing 'Up There' again. He had been thinking of his charge since his first meeting with the magical beings, wondering who she was and what she would be like. He would close his eyes and meditate, attempting to sense her. At one point during the day he did feel a wave of grief wash over him. Maybe he could be a Whitelighter after all.

He looked around and spied the two Elders he first met with walking towards him. He met them halfway. "So, do I get to know her name now?" he asked, assuming his charge was the reason he heard the ringing in his ear again during breakfast.

"Cassandra Cole," Amos replied.

When neither Elder expanded on that, the young man rolled his eyes. He felt his temper starting to rise. Was every meeting going to be a game of 20 questions? "Care to elaborate at all on that?" Wyatt asked, less that satisfied with such a simple response.

"She's a college student," Samuel said, going against his better judgment and describing the new witch. "Her powers were bound as a child; she doesn't remember ever having them. Her mother recently died, so . . . "

"So her powers are no longer bound," Wyatt finished the Elder's sentence. Despite his magical education and upbringing, this was a basic rule he was well aware of. His own mother's powers had been bound, and she did not receive them until after her grandmother died. He realized this was done to protect the witches in question, but it left them vulnerable when they finally came into their powers. The person who bound them was taking a great risk that the witch would be able to defend herself, and she undoubtedly would have to upon receiving her powers.

Amos nodded, letting the young Whitelighter know he was correct in his assessment, and happy to see he understood the seriousness of the situation. "Precisely. She's new to the craft, plus she's grieving, so this won't be easy."

"So, how do I do this?" Wyatt asked. At first it had seemed so simple: get assigned a charge, guide her as she learns the craft. But the reality was he had no idea how to go about doing that. His father had had a cover when he was a Whitelighter; he posed as a handyman. He, on the other hand, had college and an internship along with his Wiccan responsibilities. How was he supposed to introduce himself to this new witch? "Can you at least give me a jumping off point?"

"You have to assimilate yourself into her life. Earn her trust," Amos instructed, patting the young man on the shoulder in an act of reassurance. He knew the young man would have doubts about himself, but he had to get over them quickly. He would be of no help to his charge if his confidence was shaky at best.

"And just how exactly do I go about that?" Wyatt asked, his patience wearing thin. Would it kill the Elders to give him a straight answer for once? He knew they knew the answers he was looking for. Why couldn't they just tell him?

Amos folded his hands in front of him, a calm expression on his face. He had been an elder long before his father had been a Whitelighter, and try as he might, the young man before him would be unsuccessful in rattling his cage. "That is up to you to decide."

Wyatt threw up his hands in disgust, his patience shot and the frustration of the situation overwhelming him. "Oh, sure, no problem," he deadpanned. "I'll just walk up to her and say 'hey, sorry about your mom. But the good news is, you're a witch. Unfortunately, it's just a matter of time before demons start attacking you. But don't worry! I'm your guardian angel.' Yeah, that'll go over like a lead balloon." He let out an exasperated sigh and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Samuel rolled his eyes at the young man's tantrum. This was the problem with Whitelighters who were witches as well. They had trouble with the bigger picture, had too many emotional ties, and forgot that their assignments were not about them but for the benefit of their charges. "Oh, don't be so dramatic! You're just like your mother." One look from Wyatt alerted the Elder that this was not the right thing to say. Not aloud at least anyway, however true it may be. "It shouldn't be too hard to approach her," he continued, hoping to distract the Whitelighter from his earlier statement. "You already know her."

"Excuse me?" Wyatt was taken aback at this piece of news. Since when did Whitelighters get assigned to their friends? He gently shook his head. It couldn't be true.

"You met Friday night at your mother's club."

This information sank in, and realization dawned on Wyatt: Chris's friend, Cassie. "Then perhaps you chose the wrong brother," he said softly.

"It's like I said the last time we met, Wyatt," Amos said, hoping to get the young man to trust in his instincts, trust in this assignment. "Christopher has his own path, and this one is yours. Don't fight it. See where it takes you."

"Right, right. See where it takes me." The young man closed his eyes, mulling over everything. His mother had warned him the Elders were known for their 'cryptic crap,' as she put it. And in her mind, she would think they were 'up to no good' with her son. And he'd be lying if he didn't admit he agreed with her. But what else could he do? He couldn't leave a new witch hanging out the open, fresh for the taking by demons. He sighed. "Any chance you know where it'll take me?" This question was met with silence. "What am I saying? Of course you do. But you wouldn't want to tell me, or anything. That would be too easy."

"Some things, you just have to learn on your own," Amos solemnly said.

"Right." Wyatt looked down at his worn sneakers. He was afraid if he looked at the Elders he would not be able to keep his temper in check. After a few moments, when he was convinced he was somewhat calm, he looked up. "Well, if there's nothing else I guess I'll be off, trying to find a way to introduce my charge to magic." He added the last phrase sarcastically. When his retort received no acknowledgement, he readied himself to orb out.

But before he could, Amos placed a hand on the young man's arm. "Wyatt, just be patient with her. She'll come around."

"Thanks." And without so much as another glance, Wyatt finally orbed out.

"Don't you think you said too much?" Samuel asked, concerned the young man would not learn all he needed to in the right time so he could fully understand it.

"Are you kidding?" Amos asked in disbelief. "When you get down to it, we hardly told him anything at all."

A tan, hybrid SUV traveled the narrow roads of the cemetery. It pulled up behind a small line of cars parked behind a hearse. Wyatt cut the engine and turned to his passenger. "Thanks for coming with me," he said.

"Sure, don't mention it." Chris looked out the passenger side window at the small group of people gathering at the coffin several feet away. He swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat. "God, I can't believe Cassie's mother died. I can't even begin to imagine . . . if something happened to Mom and Dad . . . " His voice trailed off.

"Chris, don't even go there," the older brother commanded. His family seemed to stare death in the face on a near-daily basis. They couldn't afford to think about losing a family member. If they did, it would give evil the upper hand in battle.

"I know. Sorry." The young man looked away from the graveside gathering and directed his attention toward his brother. "You know, I have to admit, I was surprised when you asked me to come with you," he said as they exited the car. He quickly ran his hands over his black suit, smoothing out any wrinkles that may have formed during the car ride over. "Funerals aren't exactly your thing."

"Whose thing are they?" Wyatt deadpanned as the boys made their way towards the gravesite.

"You know what I mean," Chris said, as they found a spot off to the side and set back a bit, to prevent them from infringing on the family's grief.

"Yeah, I do." Wyatt leaned closer to his brother and whispered in his ear, "The thing is, there's more to it than supporting your friend."

"Oh?" Chris's head snapped to look at his brother, his interest piqued. "Care to tell me about it?" He raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

The eldest Halliwell thought for a moment. "I don't know if I can," he said, wondering when the Whitelighter-charge confidentiality agreement went into effect.

"Since when can't you tell me something?" the younger brother asked, looking hurt.

"Looks like they're about to start," Wyatt said, evading the question.

"Dear Lord," the priest said once everyone had gathered around the gravesite. "We gather here to honor our beloved sister, Catherine…"

"Not a lot of people here, huh?" Chris commented in a hushed voice, surveying the surroundings. Cassie sat in the front row, a woman who looked to be about their mother's age sitting next to her, hand in hand. A few people sat in chairs behind them, but half of the folding chairs that had been set up were empty.

"It's a funeral, Chris, not a party."

"I know that. I just mean . . . it looks like Cassie doesn't have a lot of family."

Wyatt's eyes scanned the crowd, and he silently agreed with his brother's assessment. "I don't know if that'll make this easier or harder," he said softly, mostly to himself, but the youngest Halliwell couldn't help hearing.

"You're her Whitelighter, aren't you?" Chris asked, although it was more of a statement than a question.

"Yeah," Wyatt said, relieved to have it out in the open and finally have someone other than two vague Elders to talk about it with. "The Elders just told me today."

"Any idea what her power is, or how you're going to tell her?"

"No and no."

"Well, you better figure out something quick," Chris warned his brother. "If evil doesn't steal her powers, you've still got the 24-hour free will window to contend with."

"Don't remind me," Wyatt huffed. He didn't need his brother to remind him of what was at stake, of what the risks were. The knots in his shoulders were all the reminder he needed. "You got any ideas on how I can approach her?" he asked, hoping his brother could give him some insight to the young woman he was sent to guide and protect.

"Mom's baking a casserole. Take it to her later." The corners of Chris's mouth turned upwards. "I had a sneaking suspicion when you said you wanted to come to the funeral," he explained, seeing the expression on his brother's face.

"Thanks." Wyatt breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully the offer of comfort food would get his foot in the door, both literally and metaphorically. "Any idea on how I'm supposed to tell her she's a witch?"

"No, but if you're lucky you won't have to. She may start subconsciously using her power on her own." One thing the boys learned when they were young was that their powers were tied to their emotions. Chris had to imagine Cassie was feeling a wide range of them right now, and there was a good chance one of them would trigger her power, whatever it was.

"I can only hope." Wyatt said. It would be much easier to explain she was a witch if she had already used her powers. It may make her more likely to believe him, instead of tossing him out on his rear end. "I still think they assigned her to the wrong brother, though," he said softly, watching as friends and family members one by one left a rose on the coffin.

Chris rolled his eyes. For someone with just about all the magically ability in the world, his brother didn't seem to think too highly of himself unless he was blasting a demon to smithereens. "When are you going to learn to trust these things and go with it?"

"Trust? Trust?? Chris, how can you even suggest that?" Wyatt did his best to keep his voice low while his emotions ran high. "How can we possibly trust a group of people who didn't want us to be born?" The young man stared at his brother in disbelief. Could he really be that naive? That everything in their magical lives was as simple as trusting the Elders?

"No, of course not," Chris sighed. "But you're supposed to trust there's a reason you're her Whitelighter and I'm not. So just go with already."

Wyatt smiled in spite of his confusion and inner panic. "Spoken like a true Whitelighter."

"Wyatt…"

"Okay, okay," the older brother said, resigning himself to the fact that this conversation was finished. The twosome stood in silence, watching the services conclude. As the patrons started to stand, Cassie looked over and saw them. She nodded, acknowledging their presence and thanking them all at once. The boys nodded in return. "You ever wonder what it would have been like, if Mom and the aunts bound our powers when we were kids?" Wyatt asked as the two turned and headed back towards the car.

"Some of us are still kids," Chris said, trying to make light of the subject. When his brother didn't jest in returned, he decided to be honest. "Yeah, I've thought about it from time to time. I can't imagine just one day coming into my powers. Knowing everything that I know now, I would feel completely unprepared." He paused. "She's completely unprepared, Wyatt."

"I know. And the thing is, so am I."

Author's Note: Well, that's the chapter! Thanks for reading. Now, you know what to do. :-)