The Power of 'P'

Leo felt like a shy young school boy as he sat nervously at the head of the table in the nook of the kitchen. Sitting nearest to him was Steve, dutifully waiting for any subtle movements in the kitchen to still themselves. Next to Steve sat Dylan, doing his best to fill out the flash cards that his mother had 'requested' he write, before shooing Chris and Rider upstairs to her bedroom.

And finally, zipping continuously around all areas of the kitchen, was Lee. Though he knew he would be busy and distracted by his own cooking process, he still looked forward to witnessing his father's first class in Halliwell survival.

As a judge would with his or her javelin, Steve knocked three times on the surface of the wooden kitchen table. "If all dads would please take their seats, class is now is session."

Leo nervously rocked back and forth in his chair. "Shouldn't we be helping Lee?" he asked, intimidated by all of the information he would be expected to absorb.

"Sorry Dad" said Lee as he shut the refrigerator door. "not 'til you've finished your homework. Then we'll see."

"I'm confused," Leo muttered, scrunching his eyebrows and scratching the back of his head. "Was I just disciplined by my youngest child?"

"Hakuna Matata, Dad." said Steve. "We got your back."

Leo looked at Steve, his eyebrows raised in confusion. "Hakuna Ma-what-ah?"

"Allow me to demonstrate." Steve suggested, preparing to sing one of his favorite Disney songs: "It means 'no wor-"

Dylan put his right hand over Steve's mouth. "Do you want me to tell you what's going to happen if you if you keep singing or would you rather just wait until they put you in a body cast?"

Suddenly, Dylan felt a warm wetness in the palm of his hand. "Gross, you hand-licker!" Dylan jerked his hand away and wiped it on his jeans.

From his place at the edge of the table, Leo caught sight of Lee stepping backwards away from the cooking island. He stopped about six feet away or so. There was a look of calm preparedness and focus in the young man's eyes.

Seconds later, Lee lifted his arms out to his sides, with palms facing the ceiling. Suddenly, drawers and cabinets sprang open, as did the oven and refrigerator doors. Pots, pans, and utensils of all sorts popped out from their storage places, and ingredients from both the refrigerator and the pantry assembled in their 'assigned' places.

Cooking with magic was by no means Lee's preference. Ordinarily, he would feel like he was robbing himself of a wonderfully messy, thoroughly entertaining, profoundly meditative tactile experience. But, time was by far the most pressing issue.

Once everything was settled in its respective place, Lee straightened his spine, folded his arms, and stood with his feet shoulder width apart. To Leo he seemed like a drill sergeant, albeit a mild-mannered one, ready to command his (technically speaking) inanimate troops. "Alright fellas," he said with a friendly seriousness. "Third times the charm." He took a deep, hopeful breath. "Don't let me down."

The second that he snapped his fingers, the pots, pans, utensils, and ingredients followed his command, and they did so at a rate that sped up the cooking process by at least ten times. Lee smiled with gratitude, as though some friends of his had agreed to do him a big favor.

Leo gazed in amazement, nearly hypnotized by his own fascination with the scene occurring right before his eyes. Dylan and Steve looked at each other and chuckled. They had been waiting to see the look on their father's face once Lee started doing his thing.

"Okay," Leo marveled, "exactly how many powers does that boy have?"

"Well, his telepathic powers are by far the strongest." Dylan explained.

"Exhibit A." said Steve, motioning in Lee's direction like a game show assistant.

"And he also has the powers of absorption, transformation, and redirection." added Dylan. "That's how he was able to absorb two fireballs."

"And turn them into a Pink Floyd lightshow." Steve proudly added.

The two brothers noticed that their spellbound father had not taken his eyes off of Lee since he first noticed him. Steve whispered to Dylan "Do ya' think he knows he won't offend us if he blinks occasionally?"

"So," Leo continued, "exactly how is he doing all of that?"

"Well," Dylan began, "he has our permission to channel any of our powers when he needs them."

"He never touches mine though." gloated Steve. "Nobody touches… the wand!"

"Yeah Steve, we know." Dylan said flatly.

"You fear …the wand!" said Steve.

"Sure, why not."

"You bow dowwwwn before …the wand."

"Maybe some other time." Dylan patted his older brother on the shoulder. "And the pro-wrestler speech thing? Not a good color on you."

Steve looked crushed.

Leo was completely unaware of any conversation other than the one he himself had initiated. "I knew telepaths could channel other people's powers, but are either of you two telekinetic?"

"No. Just telekinetic orbing." answered Dylan. "But Rider's TK powers are nearly identical to Chris'."

"So those are Chris' and Rider's powers he's using?"

"Close!" Lee called out, smiling at the men at the table.

Leo smiled back suspiciously. "Then whose?"

"Whazzup bruthahs?" chanted a tall young man with honey-colored hair as he strutted into the kitchen.

"And there's your answer." Lee said to himself.

"Wyatt?" Leo stood up and hugged his oldest son, thankful to see his kind face.

"Hey, Dad." said Wyatt, his voice as friendly as Leo remembered it.

"Hey, Sunshine." said Dylan walking over to hug his brother.

"Hey Hippie." returned Wyatt as they hugged.

"Hey Captain." said Steve, completing the hug line.

"Hey Trouble." replied Wyatt.

Lee looked in Wyatt's direction, though he stayed in his spot to better control the kitchen commotion. "I thought I sensed a walking Hallmark card around here somewhere."

"Hmm…that's interesting." Wyatt folded his arms, intensely studying the floor upon which Lee was standing.

"What?" Lee asked, looking at the floor around him.

"Well, Baby Brother, I'm looking for the leg you have to stand on…" Wyatt teased, "and, I gotta tell ya'… I just don't see it."

"Didn't you guys all see each other just yesterday?" Leo asked politely, surprised at how enthusiastic all of his sons were to see one another.

"Yeah," Wyatt answered. "But none of knew for certain whether we'd see each other again at all."

A look of great concern settled on Leo's face. "I see." he said quietly. "Sounds like this is all more serious than I thought."

Wyatt looked at his three brothers. "You guys haven't told him?" he asked casually. He knew that they must have a good reason.

"Negative," Steve answered, "there's a 'No Talking Shop' rule until after dinner tonight."

"Huh" said Wyatt, looking around the room until… "What's happening tonight?" …he looked into Lee's eyes.

Leo looked back and forth between Wyatt and Lee.

"Ohhhh…" said Wyatt. "I see."

"You two keeping secrets?" asked Dylan.

"He was just sending me the compressed folder version of the story" explained Wyatt innocently. "So I could extract it all for myself."

"Well," Steve said in a sly voice. "You two just keep your thoughts where I can see 'em."

"Are you here to stay?" Lee asked hopefully.

"Sorry, Boo." Wyatt answered, a sympathetic frown on his face.

"Are you here for Rider?" asked Leo.

"Yeah," Wyatt said with a playfully disappointed sigh. "I'm afraid I got stuck with 'time traveling, nephew retrieval' duty."

"Trust me, it's better than being a time traveling Mary Kay representative." said Steve. "Never doin' that again."

Wyatt chuckled. "Speaking of nephew retrieval; you guys remember the whole 'leave them alone and they will come home philosophy?"

"Yeah," answered Dylan. "Bo-Peep swears by it."

Wyatt hung his head. "She lied."

"Say it ain't so!" exclaimed Steve.

"Yep. I hate to be the one to tell you all," said Wyatt, "but, we've been betrayed by a children's rhyme."

Lee said hopefully to Wyatt, "I think your odds are still pretty good with that 'wagging his tail behind him' part."

"Time will tell, Boo," said Wyatt. "Time will tell."

Wyatt then noticed Dylan's stack of index cards on the table. "What's with the cram session, Dyl?"

"We've got a couple of projects going."

"Lee's doing the 'magic chef' thing." Steve added.

"Yeah, about that. Lee!" Wyatt called out "Get your tail in here!"

"But I'm cooking." Lee answered anxiously.

"And you're doing one heck of a job." said Wyatt. "now get in here."

"But -- but..."

"No, 'buts'. Now, get your telepathic tush over here."

"What if I drop something?" Lee asked with a pleading bounce.

"Lee," said Wyatt, "we didn't go through six months of paper plates and plastic utensils for nothing."

"What?" Leo whispered to Dylan.

"Wyatt talked Mom into having Lee practice his TK cooking from a different room." Dylan answered. "He kept smashing dishes, so we eventually switched to paper plates."

"I see." Leo replied, not sure what to do with this new information.

With his face turning white as a ghost's, Lee soldiered on in his dispute with Wyatt. "Yeah, but I haven't done it back in this…"

"Michael Paisley Halliwell!" exclaimed Wyatt, holding out his hand, threatening to telekinetically draw Lee to the table. "Get yourself in here or I will get you in here."

"You wouldn't dare." said Lee, a teasing challenge in his eyes.

"Gee, I dunno," Wyatt shrugged his shoulders, a guiltless look on his face. "Sometimes my hand has a mind of its own."

Lee squinted his eyes, nervously studying the complex orchestra of movement happening on the stove and on the counters in front of him. "Okay, here goes." he whimpered. Closing his eyes and gritting his teeth, Lee inched his way toward the kitchen table, praying with each step that he wouldn't hear any crashing sound of two colliding plates, or bowls, or silverware, etc.

With Lee still a few feet away, Wyatt stepped into his path, waiting with his arms open. "Gotcha!" he said, as Lee ultimately wound up in his bear hugging arms. After a moment, Wyatt let one arm fall, keeping the other around Lee's shoulder. "Lee, you can open your eyes now. No crashes."

Lee only opened one eye at first and looked in every possible direction. Wyatt chuckled and tilted his head to watch. Lee finally opened his other eye and, turning his head to the side, he beheld Wyatt, biting his lip to keep from laughing.

Lee smirked. "And you're the example I'm supposed to be following?"

"I'm afraid you're stuck with me," said Wyatt. "You gotta admit, you could do worse."

Lee slanted his lips in a half-faced grin. "Yeah, yeah, yeah."

"Wyatt, do you have time to sit down for awhile?" Leo asked. "Your Mom's upstairs having a talk with Chris and Rider."

"Sure, I can sit for for a few minutes."

Wyatt pulled out a chair for both Lee and himself. He had noticed that Lee kept looking back in the direction of the stove. He pointed towards the seat of the chair and mouthed the words, "Sit… Down!" which Lee reluctantly did.

"So, what were those other projects you mentioned?" Wyatt asked the group.

"We think Dad should take voice lessons." said Dylan.

"You mean as in 'Mom's voice' voice lessons?"

"Them's the ones." Steve answered.

"It's actually a good idea, Dad." Wyatt agreed. "The earlier you start, the better off you'll be."

"So, all you guys know how to do the voice thing?" Leo asked, still unable to fully accept that such a thing existed.

"Dad," Lee answered, "anyone in this house who wanted to live past the age of ten knows the system."

"Trust me Dad," Wyatt added, "It'll make your life at least ten time easier."

It's one of those 'you'll have to wait and see' kinda things." Lee explained.

Leo attempted to get some of the attention off of himself. "Dylan's also got his own little project going."

"I'm making flash cards." said Dylan, with a helpless look in his eyes. "Mom's idea."

"Flash cards?" echoed Wyatt.

"She wants to memorize us." added Lee.

"I feel like that should surprise me more than it does." said Wyatt.

"I have this horrible feeling that there's a whole series of personality assessment tests waiting for us" admitted Dylan. "I can feel it in my bones."

"Dylan, mind if I take a look at those?" Wyatt asked.

"Be my guest." answered Dylan, handing his brother the cards. "What else do you think Mom would want me to put on them?"

"What've you got so far?" asked Lee.

"Just names, hair and eye color, height and weight."

"So, you've basically written each of us a personal add." Steve discerned. "You didn't put down my real middle name did you?" he whined. "It's not too late to change it ya' know."

Dylan replied: "Well, I was gonna change it but the 'magic eight ball' told me I should just leave it alone."

"Maybe you misread it." Steve suggested.

"Nope, I checked it twice, just like Santa Claus does."

"You must've rigged it then." Steve accused.

Wyatt scoffed. "Rigged a 'Magic Eight Ball'?" he said. "Steve, even for you…"

"Stranger things have happened." warned Steve.

"You, for instance." said Dylan.

"Say what you will folks, but the whole thing is a setup."

"Well, as fun as fiction can be, it's far more likely that you just didn't make the 'nice list'." Dylan accused.

"But you're the one with a motive." Steve said slyly.

"A motive to rig a 'magic eight ball'?" Lee asked. "Steve, are you listening to yourself?"

"Just hear me out." Steve requested. "Bad little boys get 'ashes and switches and bowlegged breeches'."

"I'm dying to see where your twisted little mind is going with this." said Dylan.

"Well," Steve said to Dylan. "You're the only bowlegged one in the family, so it only stands to reason that the ashes and the switches were also intended for you, thus putting you on the 'naughty list' and establishing you as our prime suspect in this case."

"Dad, try to keep him from eating the glue next time around." said Wyatt. "Just to see if it makes a difference."

"What's the matter Dylan?" Steve taunted, leaning in until he was nose to nose with his brother. "What's your alibi?"

"Steve," Dylan began, backing away from his accusing stare and shoving his own palm in his goofy brother's face. "You see this hand?"

"This hand right here?" Steve asked, pointing at Dylan's palm.

"That's the one." Dylan confirmed. "Why don't you two develop a relationship? You're going to be seeing a lot of each other."

"Dude, either update the insults, or quit making them." Steve returned.

"Steve, why'd you do that?" Lee moaned.

"Bad move, Steve." Wyatt scolded.

"Did you just 'dude' me?" Dylan aggressively asked Steve. "Was I just 'duded'?"

"Why?" asked Steve defensively. "Are you above 'duding'?"

"Launchpad!" Wyatt exclaimed, snapping his brothers out of their tangent dispute. Leo merely sat and watched the gang at work. He decided that, if he eventually felt the need to say something, he would just raise his hand until he was called upon.

"I'm not changing your middle name." said Dylan emphatically.

"But it's embarrassing." Steve wined.

"Steve," said Lee, "it's just Mom and she's the one who gave it to you."

Wyatt followed. "Yeah, how embarrassing can it be?"

"See here, 'Blessed Boy'," said Steve, pointing at his 'twice blessed' brother. 'By some unexplained miracle, you escaped the 'Power of 'P' curse. So, you have no idea the horror that comes along with it."

"Maybe not," Wyatt said with a grin. "But it sure is entertaining to watch."

"My point is," Steve said, doing his best to ignore the comment. "that she doesn't know she's given it to me. So now's a good time to pick something else."

"Nope. Uh-uh. It ain't happenin'," said Dylan. "If I have to be Perseus, then you have to be Peregrin."

"Why can't I be Perseus? At least yours is from literature."

"So's yours, ya doof."

"But it's so not the same." Steve complained. "Yours is a Greek hero, mine is a frickin' hobbit."

"Not just any hobbit." Lee playfully interjected. "A hobbit hero."

"But it's a poor choice." Steve said insistently. He turned to look at Dylan. "My feet aren't fuzzy."

Dylan said snidely, "And I'm not riding a unicorn. What's your point?"

"Pegasus." Lee shyly interrupted.

Steve flinched. "Say what?"

"Perseus rode Pegasus, not a unicorn," Wyatt said on Lee's behalf. "And you're feat are fuzzy."

Steve threw his arms up in exasperated defeat. "Oh sure, give the boy a magic frickin' sword that he can call like a frickin' dog and all of a sudden he's the frickin' Oracle at Delphi."

"Dang, Steve," Dylan said irritably. "There's sure a whole lotta fricki' goin' on." He looked back at Wyatt. "Hey Wy, can I have Steve's card back please?"

"Sure." Wyatt thumbed through the small stack until he came across Steve's card, and slid it across the table.

Dylan took his pen and scratched through Steve's name at the top center of the card. Just beneath the original name, he wrote in large letters. "Steven Pegasus Halliwell."

Steve's jaw dropped in horror.

"What?" Dylan said carelessly. "It starts with a 'P'."