Disclaimer: I don't own them, WB do (I think) and the lyrics belong to Kelly Clarkson.
Summary: AU. Chris has kept his identity a secret, but can keep it no longer as helies dyingin Piper's arms.
A/N: Set after The Courtship of Wyatt's Father. Let's just pretend that Phoebe and Paige didn't tell Piper about Chris yet.
And slight thing, I don't quite get the Witch thing, I mean Chris' is half Witch, so does that mean he's half mortal, and the sisters are completely mortal only with powers, or are they half mortal because of their father and half not mortal at all? Confused? Yeah me too…
ANYWAY, moving on. Here's the first chapter
-Edited to remove song lyrics by Kelly Clarkson
He saw the various weapons and grinned. This would all be over in a matter of seconds. He gingerly turned his hand slightly, the weapons floating in mid-air. Every one of them, he grinned cockily, the demons still unaware. He didn't even know what demons they were, he'd been tipped off about them creating problems, convincing more and more demons to attack above ground, and Chris couldn't have that. He had thanked the traitorous demon, allowing him to leave with his life, and had decided to be rid of the demons.
He had intended to question them but seeing the amount there, he realized it might not be the best idea.
He swept his hand graciously, with a burst of anger, and every weapon, even the blunt, pierced flesh and drew yellowy black blood, leaving the demons to gurgle sickly before disappearing.
And then re-appearing.
"You have got to be kidding me." He muttered, seeing them reform, his plan, seeming suddenly bleak.
He stumbled through the long-corridor of the alleyway, taking no notice of his surroundings, everything taking on a hazy blur as he tried to focus, many wounds bleeding as he clutched the worse on his abdomen the blood seeping through his fingers. But he had to keep going, and carry on. If he could just get to the manor, convince Leo to heal him, he'd be fine.
What if Leo says no?
He's not that cruel, at least, I don't think he is, besides, he's good, and he wouldn't let me die.
He left you once before.
Chris cringed at the thought. Leo had left him, several times, but only once had it been that serious. Only once had his eldest son's bitter taste for revenge rubbed off on Leo, and even that hadn't lasted long.
Chris had been insistent on ignoring his remaining stubborn relatives. His cousins followed him out of sheer familiarity with Chris more than Wyatt, while his father couldn't understand the evil Chris spoke of. All he saw was Wyatt. Good ol' Wyatt. Nothing more than a good soul. Chris had ensured his cousin's safety with the growing resistance he was leading, and had gone on demon hunts every day. Not necessarily to kill, some had hated Wyatt as much as the resistance and agreements were made that they would help in any way they could. Others were simply vanquished by Chris' hand.
That's when it had happened.
He had been hunting a fairly large group of Larik-Demons. Larger than he was used to, and without the Book of Shadows in his possession he only had mild details about them. Their appearance, green and scaly, had been put forward by a survivor, while they powers were those of a lower level demon.
The one thing they hadn't known was how vast their number was.
Chris was the most powerful Witch in the world next to his older brother Wyatt. Both of Piper's children had been blessed with the trio of the Charmed one's gifts while Paige and Phoebe's children had only received what their mothers had controlled. He was always the first choice when it came to demon hunting, because they knew he could hold his own. Bianca had her own section in one of the lower quadrants, more protecting than hunting. Something she wasn't overly pleased about, but dealt with.
He remembered how cold it seemed. Like the breath was torn away from him. A horrible feeling that only increased when he was the nest. There were well over seventy demons, some sleeping, unawares, others finding tasks to keep themselves busy. No one seemed to be on watch, but Chris reasoned, it was most likely they could fight back just as well when surprised as they did when organized.
He let out a steadying breath and quickly realized how little he knew about his enemies. Every demon awake flinched, as though they had felt the breath. They were extremely sensitive, and Chris felt a tinge of fear from where he perched behind a boulder.
His mind screamed as one by one the sleepers were aroused and they all began standing in a circle, as though waiting for the on-coming battle.
Oh crap, crap, crap
He had a high survival instinct. But also knew better than to run, and leave a mission unfinished.
This should be interesting.
He waved his hand, and a good half of the demons were sent flying into the walls. Some, luckily for Chris, impaling themselves on sharpened edges of the cave walls.Others dazed for a moment, where Chris took his chance.
Jumping out of his hiding place, he barreled forward, taking out the first demon with an athame to the heart. Another fell, and another, and another, and then they were circling him. It was like a game of chess. How much he was willing to sacrifice. He knew he could take down the one sneering in front of him. But that left the almost-forty-odd demons a good chance to kill him. He kicked backwards, sending three of them to floor, and span on his left ankle, plunging the dagger deep into his intended target, he even managed another before he felt a sharp pain in his back, and looked down, horrified at the sharp tip of a crude-sword dripping with his own blood.
The sword was pulled free, and Chris felt himself falling to his knees. He heard laughing, and his fury reached a boiling point. He would not be laughed at. Ever. He focused his dwindling energy and thrust both arms to the side, every demon that stood behind him vanquished by an orange glow that swept through them. The screams only emphasized the silence that followed as the demons stood, wide eyed and transfixed and Chris regretted having used so much power. His sight was worthless to him, his body shaking furiously. He stayed on his knees, unable to move. He heard a roar, and his head fell to the side, a punch having been planted on his other cheek. He stayed on his knees, barely. He heard the clattering of swords as the demons took to beating him rather than slicing and dicing.
Every blow was like a ton of weight bearing down on his consciousness. He was kicked constantly, heavy boots always kicking. Fists were soon forgotten as the Larik Demons saw they could do more damage with their entire burly weight pressed into their feet. Pleased that they could stand tall while beating the crap of their dying opponent.
Chris was soon off of his knees, and instead lay still on his side. Wanting to curl up on himself but unable to for the agony. There was another growl that sounded suspiciously like 'Enough' the shadows stepped back as someone stepped forward, their leader he presumed.
"Who are you?" He asked gruffly, his breath rivaling that of a skunk's behind. Chris didn't answer, he relished in the lack of force in footfalls on his body.
"Who are you, retch!" His head was yanked up to the leaders ugly face as it took the dark hair in his fist, pulling harshly.
Chris didn't reply, he could taste blood in his mouth. He looked around, and took a sudden chance. He orbed.
He knew how risky it was. If he was too weak, which he supposed he was, he would merely appear across the room, or worse, in the exact same spot. And his attempt of escape would not be looked on kindly. He stopped caring. His orbs managed to filter upwards, the demons once again stunned into silence, shunning their eyes-so used to the darkness-from the bright neon blues and whites that filled their vision.
Looking back, as he stumbled through the alleyways of 2004, he wasn't sure why he had orbed there. But he had all the same. His delirium, much like now, took him to the manor.
And as his body had been unable to find solid ground, his orbs had began to return to the Underworld, but his father had informed him later of how Wyatt had grabbed him, and filtered his orbs to the nearest comfortable thing. The couch.
"He was panicking, Chris, I've never seen him like that before." Leo had said, trying to make Chris understand how wrong he was about Wyatt.
"Why didn't he heal me then?"
"His powers have been on the fritz, he hasn't been able to heal recently."
A lie, he knew. Wyatt had purposely given up his healing ability, and now hid his more demonic second hand powers to keep up appearances. Leo was so naïve it hurt Chris to think about it, to realize how hard it must be for him to have to face the facts.
That conversation had been afterwards. A way of trying to break the ice, to get through to the very bitter, and hurt, Chris. When he had come to, he was looking at the ceiling of the Manor living room. He felt his breath quicken. He had no idea why he was here. He hastily tried to get up, biting his lip, drawing blood, to stop the scream from the pain. His legs were weak, and the moment he tried to get up, he fell unceremoniously onto the floor, sliding in between the small space between the coffee table and couch, his bruises hitting the wood painfully. He lay there pitifully, unable to get back up.
"Chris!" His father cried alarmed. He and Wyatt having discussed a few things in the kitchen while the youngest son was away in troubled sleep.
Leo moved back the table, not wanting to move the boy any more, gingerely rolling Chris onto his back, having not noticed the gaping bloody wound from the sword there, now staining the carpet. He knelt in front of him, but Wyatt put a hand on his shoulder. Something Chris didn't miss. He looked into his father's eyes, confused, begging, pleading for help. But no respite in the pain followed.
"Chris, you have to listen to us, this ridiculous goose-chase…it's stupid, and you're getting hurt. You have to learn your lesson." Wyatt said, feigning regret as though this were for Chris' own good, leading Leo away, Chris left lying on the ground, a small puddle of blood forming underneath where he lay. He stared at the empty space where his father had knelt moments before, cracked lips opening and closing like a goldfish in search of air as it washed up on to a beach. His tilted his head carefully, staring at the ceiling, tears falling down his face.
They had left him to die.
He hadn't heard Leo fighting on his behalf. Nor would he have listened. All he knew was the agony he had been through then the cries of alarm at the blood all around him.
"Oh god, Chris, I'm sorry, I-I didn't know, I-I t-thought it was just – I didn't know." He said through his own tears as he held his hands out to his youngest boy. The golden glow illuminating the deathly pale skin, returning it to a creamy palour.
Chris cringed as bile rose in his throat and he fell to his knees, his body shaking as he retched continuously. He was in trouble, and he knew it. Much like then. And just like then he could orb away as soon as he was healed. But Wyatt wasn't there to stop him from landing god-knows where. He would have to rely on his steadier feet to lead the way. The grandeur of the houses on the street leaned in, intimidating his feverish form.
People shouldn't go through that much pain in a lifetime. Ever. But here he was, having done it twice. Not to mention how many times he had been hit by energy balls, from both demons and family. How many darklighter arrows had found their to way to his chest when exposed? How many near deaths, and close calls? Too many. Too many even for a Charmed One's son.
He kept walking, until he battled the mile-high steps leading to his home. His foot caught on the step several times, and as he fell forward, he noticed only one car sat in the driveway. One of two belonging to this household. Which meant his mother was home. Piper. Piper who found him annoying, maybe even hated. But Piper all the same. Maybe even Phoebe. Maybe she was feel his pain and come running to the rescue. Maybe finally she would see what was always there. Maybe she would see Piper, and Leo, in one form. In him.
And maybe Wyatt will appear and heal your ass.
The sarcastic reply to his own hope filtered back to him. Something he might have smiled at, once, a long time ago.
He could smell the damp in the air, and saw no stars shining above. Hidden by thick dark clouds.
A rain drop fell, singular, and ominous, falling, falling, landing on the ground, leaving a splat of water on the dry stone. Another followed its predecessor, a whole army of raindrops attacking. He groaned, pushing himself up, supporting his weight on whatever was there. He could hear music from inside, loud, and he knew by no how unlikely it was that he'd be heard.
He was too weak to orb. Weaker than he had been all those years ago. He walked on the grass, quickly being turned into a muddy swamp from the rain. His shoes squelched pressing down as he stumbled through the garden, having used the route after forgetting his keys, and knowing well enough to not expose magic so obviously. He held onto the side of the house, tracing the wall as he rounded the corners of the Manor. He reached the side of the house and tried shaking the door knob, numbly surprised when he found it locked.
He tried harder to open it, but he was too weak and stumbled backwards after an attempt to pull it open towards him resulting in him lying his head back in defeat.
Phoebe wasn't home. He couldn't sense her. He could sense Wyatt, but not Phoebe, or Paige. Just mom.
He couldn't answer, and Piper was too shell-shocked to care. She had heard a scuffle outside, and having gone to check she had seen him, just able to make out the reason for his stillness by the lights of the house. She was by his side in an instant, never one to leave someone to die. Never one to be that cruel, despite any biased feelings.
"Leo!" She screeched, and winced when she saw the pain she had caused Chris at the scream.
"Oh my god Chris, what happened!"
He couldn't reply. He just stared at the beauty of his mother. Then she was gone, but he had no time to over-analyse as she re-appeared suddenly, and a black coat was placed on top of him.
He opened his mouth, his breath fogging on the cold air in front of him. Piper gulped, about to scream her ex husbands name but thinking better of it. Not wanting to draw any more attention, even if they were hidden by a particularly large garden fence, realizing that Leo had decided to stay up there for good, and seeing that Chris was adamant in trying to speak.
The last time he had seen her, he had been fourteen. Wyatt was sixteen, and well in need of more training as he eagerly yearned for the time when he would get Excalibur. Leo had decided to be the one to do it, obviously, choosing the golden child of the brunette any day. That left mother and son together in the house. It wasn't that odd, the Aunts were with their own families, doing their own thing. While they did theirs.
Everything had happened so quickly. An Elder had orbed in, begging for help, but before Piper could react to the information Darklighters had followed, intent on getting their target.
"Oh no, I'm so sorry." The Elder had said suddenly, an arrow flying towards its chest, realising he had them straight to a half Whitelighter and a Charmed One. Arrows were flying this way and that, and Piper was fighting, protecting her son. But she'd blown a Darklighter up too late, and the arrow passed the defences, hitting Chris, hard.
"NO!" She screamed, concerned for her son, running toward him, before being stopped. An arrow in her back.
She wasn't a Whitelighter.
Or half of one.
But she was a Witch
Half, if not more, mortal
And she'd been shot with an arrow.
She fell to the ground. The Darklighter had edged towards her, grinning at the advantage. He pulled back the drawstring, the cross bow perched on his forearm.
"Get away from her!" A voice screamed from behind, and the Darklighter span to see the boy, who he had hit moments before standing tall, shaking from fury and no doubt the poison's workings.
The demonwas thrown to the side suddenly. He made to get up but his own arrows came barrelling towards him. Not one, not two, but every single arrow in his quiver. He screamed, but no one listened.
Chris had only stumbled towards his mother, calling out for help, even though it was too late. Too late to save her, and too late for their family to survive the tragedy of the loss that was to come.
He had come back, to suspicious Piper, not mom. To hateful glances at the cause of her marriage being destroyed, but still he didn't regret it, he was here to save Wyatt, and that's what mattered. Not him and his longing for a mother's touch, or his fears of being rejected being put to the test. No. There were bigger things than him in the world. More important things. Like here and now. And here, he was in the garden, in the rain and now, he was dying. He had to tell her, just to let her know, he hated lying. Especially to her. He worshipped her so much, it wasn't right to keep it to himself.
Piper tried to hush him, but it was no use. He had to tell her, to make her listen. He didn't know how much longer he would hold on, and he wanted to say it, he'd hidden it for so long. He just wanted to say it, one last time.
Not entirely sure how many more chapters there are to come, but there are more...