Strength Defined

Lee stood still in the middle of the Main Hall, as Wyatt circled preditorially around him, with an unsettling calmness. Lee was alert, but not defensive, still unable to believe his oldest brother was capable of actually harming any of the rest of them.

"Lee," Wyatt said coldly, "did you ever wonder why there's a space of three years between Tristan's birth and yours?"

"Sometimes." Lee cautiously replied. "Why?"

Wyatt stared at Lee with an overconfident air. "And yet you never asked?"

Lee hesitated a bit, wondering where this was going. "I guess I've always been sort of afraid to ask."

"And don't you find that a bit peculiar in itself?" Wyatt made no attempt to hide the fact that he was sending Lee into a trap.

"I try not to think about it."

"I see." Wyatt patronized. "You try not to think about it."

"Wyatt, whatever it is you're gonna say, just say it." Lee said firmly.

"You're a replacement, Lee." Wyatt said heartlessly. "You're just a pulse that beats so the charmed sons can live on."

A shy, tender sadness crept into Lee's eyes. "I don't understand."

"Now why doesn't that surprise me? I'll spell it out for you." It pained Lee to see Wyatt taking so much pleasure in his hurtful words. "There were nine of us, I strangled one, there was an empty space. That's the only reason you're here now. Our team needed a ninth player."

"I don't believe you." Lee said defensively. "And I don't think you really killed anyone. I think the curse is messing with your mind and you should give it back to Rory. That's where it belongs."

"Oh, is that what you think?" Wyatt spoke as though he was humoring a very young child. "You know what Lee, you should be happy I murdered Rowan. If I hadn't, you wouldn't be hear now. So really, you should be thanking me."

"Stop it." Lee firmly demanded.

"Now that's an odd way of thanking me." Wyatt practically chanted. "No one can blame you, really. It's hard to accept that your parents only had you out of necessity."

"You're lying.".

"Won't it be interesting if we manage to keep Rowan alive this time around?" Wyatt sadistically mused. "Why, you'd probably just fade away then, wouldn't you?"

"Stop it!" Lee shouted.

"But, since you owe your life to me anyway... Well, let's just say these next few minutes should be interesting."

"Lee!" Rory sternly shouted as he descended the stairs into the Main Hall. "Will you go upstairs please?"

"But..."

"Lee." Rory repeated, staring directly into his youngest brother's eyes. "I need you to go upstairs, okay?"

Lee looked at Wyatt as though he were a stranger. In truth, he was. Looking back at Rory, he nodded his head obediently and trudged somberly up the Main Hall stairs.

"Ah yes," Wyatt said with amused condescension. "It's once again time to cover up the truth."

Rory was uncharacteristically vengeful, but he kept his volume in check. "Yeah, well you've got a really (censored)ed up version of the truth."

"I'm genuinely appalled Rory." Wyatt declared condescendingly. "It's not like you to use such naughty words."

"Oh, shut up." Rory hissed. "In order to actually care what you think, I'd have to have at least a grain of respect for you to begin with. So save it!"

Wyatt began to circle Rory, just as he had done to Lee. Rory was clearly unimpressed, and what's more, he was unafraid.

"Wyatt, you know damn well that Mom and Dad love that kid as much as they do any of us." Rory sneered. "Do you have ANY idea how badly you just hurt him? Those aren't words he's likely to forget any time soon. And he's never done anything but worship the ground that you and Chris walk on. And THAT's how you treat him? He has done nothing to deserve that. Nothing!"

"Oh well," Wyatt said carelessly. "You know what they say about the truth."

Rory raised his eyebrows as he nodded in response, letting Wyatt know that he was now 'in the game.' "Speaking of the truth, I believe you have something of mine."

"The curse belongs to those who kill; therefore, it belongs to me." Wyatt said darkly.

"Do you honestly mean to tell me you're playing 'Finders-Keepers' with a curse? You gonna take your ball and go home now too?" snapped Rory, genuinely surprised at his brother's juvenile reply. "You know what Wyatt, go get your own damn curse if you want one so badly. In fact, maybe you should go now, before all the good curses are gone."

Wyatt stopped and faced Rory, solid as a statue. "You know the problem with this family, other than the fact that it's full invertebrates? Everyone talks too damn much. Can't ever just say what they mean; always have to throw in a cute little anecdote, don't you?"

"We can discuss your metaphorical inadequacies later, Wyatt." quipped Rory.

Wyatt folded his arms and continue to circle, letting out the faintest of sarcastic chuckles. "This is kind of poetic, isn't it? The Twice Blessed Child taking on the Twice Cursed."

"As it turns out, I'm down a curse and you're up one. I think my odds are pretty good, considering."

"Your powers are weak at the moment." Wyatt challenged.

"Wyatt, could you please stop channeling Darth Vader so we can get this over with?"

"One question first though. I think you owe me at least that."

"What?" Rory snapped impatiently.

"Why did you do it?" It was the most like himself that Wyatt had sounded since Rory came into the room. "Why have you all kept it from me all these years?

"Well, the short answer is: We were afraid you might not take it too well. Thank God we were wrong about that one."

"To think I once admired you." Wyatt said with disgust. "It seemed almost effortless for you to shoulder what the rest of us supposedly could not."

"Well Wyatt, you're doing a bang-up job so far." returned Rory. "And 'effortless'? Clearly you weren't paying very close attention. Here I am voluntarily getting my behind kicked and I feel better than I have in over five years. Now that is messed up in ways I don't even understand."

Wyatt continued on his own train of thought, as if reciting a Shakespearean monologue. "Chris and Rory, the two family heroes." he said apathetically.

"It's not our fault the shoes fit."

"Indeed."

"'Indeed'? Who are you supposed to be, George Feeny?" Rory scoffed. "Wyatt, nobody talks like that. Pull the plug already; there's a pole seeking its freedom."

Wyatt ignored him. "And all the while..."

"I swear, I could get a better response from a mime."

"...you were really just a coward."

"Hey!" exclaimed Rory. "Easy on the name-calling, ya donkey circle!"

Wyatt chuckled callously. "To coin your phrase, if the shoe fits."

"Are you done?"

Wyatt continued his narration to himself. "Afraid...

"Of course not." Rory uttered to himself. "Why would you be?"

"...to embrace the power of the curse."

"Wyatt, this little 'villain speech' of yours... It's getting a little long. Think you could hurry it up?"

"...afraid of being who and what you really are."

"Maybe give me the Readers Digest version?"

"Afraid the truth will be more than you can stand."

Rory folded his arms and impatiently patted his foot on the floor. "I'm aging here."

"I know how you think, Rory. This isn't going to work."

"Fine, it's not going to work." Rory answered sincerely. "I'm still not moving. And, I can promise you that I'm not gonna let you get anywhere near Lee."

Wyatt cackled: "You really think you can stop me?"

"Probably not," Rory said casually. "but I figure I might as well give it a try."

"You're just embarrassing yourself." Wyatt threatened.

"And you're stalling." Rory accused. "We both know what's about to happen, so why don't you just kill me and get it over with?"

"As you wish." spoke Wyatt, with a demeaning air. Rory could sense the genuine hesitation in Wyatt's eyes, but Wyatt could sense only confidence in Rory's.

"Excalibur!" Wyatt called.

Nothing happened.

"Huh! How 'bout that?" exclaimed Rory.

"Excalibur!" Wyatt called again. To his dismay, the response was the same.

"Speaking of embarrassing yourself..." said Rory in disgusted mockery. "Maybe if you said 'please'?"

"You idiot." Wyatt hissed. "You know that negating my powers negates your own as well."

"I know exactly how my powers work, Wyatt." returned Rory. "I don't need a narrator."

The two faced one another, about ten feet apart or so, preparing for the approaching battle.

"What a pathetic waste." Wyatt snarled. "You could've been such a strong, powerful witch if you'd only had the nerve."

"That's where you're wrong, Wyatt." Rory defiantly replied. "A true test of a person's strength is their ability to suppress the parts of themselves that would harm others." Rory was relieved to see Wyatt's face reddening. It's working he thought to himself "It's you who're taking the easy way out, letting the curse turn you into whatever it chooses." Rory braced himself as he watched Wyatt tightening his fists. "Maybe you oughta rethink who the strong witch is in this situation; any idiot can watch a fire burn. But containing it? In that respect I could bury you ten times or more."

Wyatt had taken all he could stand. "Just be sure to save one of those graves for yourself." Gritting his teeth, Wyatt leapt towards Rory, kicking him violently in the chest and smashing his back against the hard wall. The second Rory's body hit the ground, Wyatt picked him up and hooked him in the jaw. Then, he thrust his younger brother's body heavily against the floor, kicking his legs out from under him. Rory lay still for a moment, flat on his chest in front of the stairs.

Wyatt's fists trembled uncontrollably. He was already sweating, and his eyebrows grimaced in confusion. That was far too easy. he thought to himself.

Rory managed to scrape his bruised body up off of the floor, wincing as he forced himself to stand. His lip was bleeding as he hobbled forward to again face Wyatt. To Wyatt's confusion, Rory seemed just as confident as he had been before their fight began.

"Is that the best you can do?" Rory asked scathingly. "Don't kid yourself, you're nothing special, Wyatt. You're a disgrace to both your title and your heritage."

Wyatt roared wildly as he thrust his open palms against Rory's unguarded chest. The younger man was propelled diagonally down onto the stairs. He arched his back painfully after it was slammed against the sharp corners of bottom few steps, and he began to cough deeply, straining to keep air moving through his lungs

Wyatt stepped clumsily backwards, anxiously waiting to see if Rory would be able to stand up again. It surprised him, the feelings of remorse as he watched his younger brother crawl to the banister in hopes to stand up a second time.

"Now we're gettin' somewhere." said Rory in a hoarse, raspy voice. "You know, there's no rule that says you can't still kick me when I'm down."

"What makes you so damn self-righteous?" Wyatt snarled, though it sounded more like a loud whimper. "Why aren't you fighting back?"

"I'm just following in Rowan's footsteps." Rory casually replied, pulling himself up, using the banister to keep him from falling back down. "Didn't you know that, before you ended him, Rowan actually kicked your ass? All around this very room. The only way he could've stopped was to kill you, and he just didn't have the heart. But you did. I'm just saving myself the trouble of fighting back, since I already know how this is going to end: just as it did with Rowan."

"You're lying." Wyatt snarled. "There's no way you could know that, even it were true."

"Rowan, himself, was a telepath." Rory said hauntingly. "Did you know that? We were even linked in the womb. You have no idea what you took from me when you took him."

"Shut up!"

"What's the matter, Wyatt?" Rory asked in an icy tone. "It really is pitiful that you only won a battle with a seven year old boy because he let you."

"I said, Shut up!" Wyatt shouted. "You're making this all up! You weren't even there!"

"Maybe not." Rory's 23 year-old body became that of his deceased 7-year-old twin brother. "...but I was." the child said.

"Rowan?" Wyatt mumbled, as his body began to tremble. "This is a trick." he said, though doubt saturated his voice. "This isn't real!"

"Of course it is." the child replied, an eerily friendly look on his face. "I'm exactly as you see me in your memory. Why would you lie about something like that?"

Wyatt grappled his head and his temples, fighting the conflicting voices in his head. "For the last time, shut!... up!"

As Wyatt charged in the child's direction, he became Rory once again. Wyatt tackled his younger brother, throwing him against the stairs and landing on top of him. Rory managed eventually catch both of Wyatt's arms by the wrists and, with all of his physical strength, did his best to hold on to them. Though Wyatt strained on top of Rory pressing him down hard against the sharp edges of the stairs, the young man still managed to hold on. Wyatt's glare finally met with Rory's waiting eyes. "Stay with me, Wyatt." Rory gently commanded, as he slowly leached the enchanted rage from his brother's bare skin.

"Please..." Wyatt whimpered. "Why won't you fight me back?"

"Wyatt, I need you to try and let go." Rory exclaimed, his voice beginning to sooth the troubled young man.

"I can't." Wyatt sobbed. "It burns!"

"Wyatt, I know you're stronger than this thing." Rory said sincerely. "Don't do it for you, Wyatt. Do it for me. Do it for all of us."

Sparked by concern for his younger brother, Wyatt nodded earnestly, letting him know that he'd give it all he had. Wyatt howled as he felt the sensation of a dark, raging fire force its way out of his chest and wrists and rush straight into Rory. Rory gritted his teeth madly, but made no sound as he felt that familiar heaviness fill every cell in his body. Wyatt was free.

Shortly after, Wyatt passed out on top of Rory, leaving the younger man with the challenge of getting his larger brother off of him. Wyatt rested unconsciously in Rory's arms for just a few minutes. His back was spread over Rory's thigh and Rory held Wyatt's head up with his arms around his slumbering brother's neck and shoulders. Though it was far from comfortable, it gave Rory a few moments to 'let his dust settle' and take in everything that had just happened.

After the few short moments passed, Wyatt timidly opened his eyes.

"Mornin'!" Rory said. "How'd you sleep?"

"What are we doing here?" asked Wyatt, sounding like a curious schoolboy.

"Oh... We're reenacting A Little Fall of Rain from Les Miserable." Rory softly teased. "You're the woman 'cause you lost the coin toss."

Wyatt chuckled silently. "What happened?" he asked, trying to make sense of the few memories he still had."

Knowing how remorseful his brother would feel, Rory did his best to make light of the situation. "You just had a little touch of the curse. Nothing serious, a little vitamin C fixed ya right up."

Wyatt's eyes widened as he looked at Rory's face. "Your lip..." he uttered concernedly. He reached up to examine the wound more closely. "Oh no, you're bleeding..."

"Get your grimy hands off my face." Rory demanded, as he playfully swatted Wyatt's hand away.

Wyatt relented, though his concern remained. "Where is everybody?"

"Oh..." Rory said unassumingly. "Well, if you're referring to your imaginary friends, they all got sick and went home."

Wyatt rolled his eyes, but chuckled quietly all the same. "Rory..."

"Yep, the pickle-flavored ice-cream wasn't quite the party hit we were hoping for."

"Lee..." Wyatt whispered to himself, as an image of his youngest brother flashed quickly through his mind's eye. "where is Lee?"

"Lee will be fine." Rory answered warmly. "He's in the attic. I think it's best for him to be alone for a little while."

Wyatt sounded curiously detached, though his eyes were troubled with guilt and concern. "Did I hurt him?"

"Nothing time won't heal." Rory assured him. "You really don't have much to worry about. We caught it in plenty of time."

Rory sat silently, waiting to hear whatever it was Wyatt felt the need to say. This was one thing about Rory that he himself didn't understand. There had always been something about him that rendered people as emotionally defenseless as a preschool child. Considering all that just happen, it's no wonder that Wyatt's strength and reserve crumbled into fresh, open sobs.

Every now and then, it was hard to make out his words through his soft moans and his tearful, quiet bellows. Rory had never experienced Wyatt in such a state, nor did he imagine that he ever would. He didn't mind at all though, always having the utmost respect for those with the courage to weep in the face of judgment as opposed to manufacturing what others deem acceptable. As for the brothers, you couldn't feel strange crying in Rory's presence. It just didn't happen.

"Oh God, Rory, I'm so sorry..." Wyatt spoke weakly. "It's just... I wanted to carry it for you."

Rory smiled sympathetically, no trace of distrust in his eyes. "I know you did." he affirmed as his voice returned to its natural, hypnotic register. "I've never doubted for a second that your heart was in the right place, Wyatt."

"I'm supposed to be taking care of you, not the other way around." Wyatt wept. "I should be taking care of all of you. It's just so unfair."

"No, it's not fair." Rory replied, his voice slowly and gradually pulling an unsuspecting Wyatt into a deep, restful sleep. "Either way, you don't hear me complaining, do ya?"

"It's just... You shouldn't have to give up so much for the rest of us." Wyatt mumbled, his words already beginning to slur. "It just doesn't make any sense."

"no... it doesn't."

Wyatt managed to utter one last phrase, though he did drift off to sleep in mid-thought: "But we... we came back... we came back to..." and then, he was gone.

Rory whispered one final thought in his ear.

"And we will."