Disclaimer: Is this really necessary to say again? Actually, I think it is. This is a work of fiction, not created for any sort of profit. Jennifer (strikermac) and I don't own Charmed or any of the characters from the show. We just like to write about them.

Author's Note: And, so now those of you reading here on fanfiction are only a chapter behind those on the "Destined" site. I don't have a whole lot to say and besides I figure you'd probably rather just read the story anyway, right? Well, when you finish reading the chapter send some inspiration our way and write a review. Ciao!


Destined: The Charmed Sons

Episode 1.3, Disrespect Your Elders

Chapter Two

Christopher Halliwell orbed back to the apartment holding onto the young blond boy that was his brother. Chris' heart was racing in his chest and his head was pounding a constant drumbeat from the hit he'd taken. His brother always had been good at tackling and it had been a solid two years since Chris had played football. Being hit by his older, larger brother without the benefit of padding had been understatedly unexpected. Being knocked to the cement hadn't been something he had been prepared for.

Chris had been even less prepared to wind up having his big brother turned into mini-Wyatt right in front of his eyes. He had acted out of instinct, grabbing him as he orbed the two of them away from the threat. Only, now Wyatt seemed to think it was Chris that was the threat.

"WARLOCK! MOM! A WARLOCK'S GOT ME!" Wyatt screamed at the top of his lungs as he shoved himself away from Chris and fell on the ground, wide-eyed. The little boy backpedaled as swiftly as he could, still on the ground.

"I'm not a warlock, I just saved you from the warlock!" Chris shouted.

"WARLOCK! WARLOCK! HELP!" the little blond screeched louder. Chris cringed at the volume of his brother's voice and the shrill nature of it in general. He held up a finger to his lips and hissed at Wyatt.

"Warlock's can't orb," Chris stated. Wyatt waved his hands at Chris, but nothing happened and Chris gave him a flat look, "Powers don't work on good witches Wy." He grabbed onto Wyatt's arm.

Wyatt tried again, still screaming bloody murder, "MOM!"

"Come on, Book of Shadows is calling us," Chris said, pulling at Wyatt, "And keep your voice down. I'm not a warlock; I'm your brother. Quit yelling for mom."

"My brother is three!" Wyatt proclaimed matter-of-factly, "You're not Chris!"

Chris ground his teeth together, "Great. Just great. You've reverted to the mind of a four-year-old. No Wyatt... I'm Chris."

"Four-and-a-half! And Nuh-uh! What did you do to my brother? Where are my mom and dad? MOM!" Wyatt screamed. He orbed away from Chris and reappeared near the door. Standing on his tiptoes the little boy opened it and raced out into the hallway.

Chris cursed softly under his breath, "Come back here!" He raced out after Wyatt. The door to the apartment closed behind him as he darted after the little boy. Wyatt was almost to the stairs and by the time Chris got to him he was halfway down the first flight. The slender brunet caught him around the waist and carried him slung over his shoulder as he went back up, grumbling softly. Chris looked towards the sky, "This is all your fault."

"Put me down! OW! Let go of me!" the four-year-old blonde screamed, as he beat on Chris's back. Chris got to the top of the landing and put Wyatt down, but he still kept a firm grip on Wyatt's arm, gritting his teeth as his patience wore thin. The boy shouted again, "I'm telling Mom!"

"You're not telling Mom, she's in California. Quit screaming," Chris admonished, "Calm down long enough so I can try to figure out what happened."

"HELP, HELP! He's gonna kill me! HELP!"

"I will if you don't shut up, so don't tempt me," Chris ground his teeth together and juggled his keys out of his pocket as he continued to try to hold onto Wyatt. He got the door open and held it with his foot, then proceeded to try to drag Wyatt into the apartment. It was a task easier said than done, because his big brother who was now a forth of his age was fighting for all he was worth not to go into the apartment.

It was just the time that Chris didn't want to see their neighbor Samara poke her head out of her door. The young woman raised her eyebrows with a curious smile, "Everything okay out here?"

Wyatt was distracted for a second and Chris let go of his hand, causing the four-year-old to land on his butt in the hallway. Wyatt glared up at Chris with narrowed blue eyes. Chris flashed Samara a disarming smile, "Yeah... uh... everything's shiny. My... my cousin here is being a bit of a handful."

"I thought you said I was your brother," Wyatt said with narrowing eyes.

Chris shot him a dark look and mentally willed his brother to keep his mouth shut and play along, but if his brother really had been reverted to a pre-Kindergartner that was surely wishful thinking. He had heard all manner of stories about the terror his brother had been when he was little, and Chris had memories of his own from growing up with Wyatt that gave him all the experience he needed.

Samara stepped the rest of the way out of her apartment and bent over, resting her hands on her knees to look at Wyatt, "Hey there cutie."

Wyatt blushed and smiled up at Samara, "Hi. You have a nice smile."

Chris rolled his eyes. Wyatt beamed, still sitting on the floor where he'd fallen. Leave it to Chris's brother to be a flirt even as a four year old. How had Piper Halliwell ever dealt with raising them? Chris had been dealing with his 'little' big brother for fewer than fifteen minutes and he was already losing his patience. How had his mother survived the last twenty-two years?

Samara laughed, "Well aren't you a little charmer."

Wyatt canted his head to one side, smiling at their neighbor. "That's cause I'm a little Charmed," Wyatt said, clearly having further meaning beyond what their neighbor was implying. The little boy stood up, "I can do magic. Wanna see?"

Chris laughed nervously and stepped away from the door, reaching towards his brother. A bit too late, Wyatt reached behind his back and Chris saw him conjure a rose. Thankfully the boy did it behind his back. The red colored flower appeared in his hand and then he held it up to Samara, smiling bashfully. Inwardly Chris groaned.

Samara's eyebrows climbed and she took the rose with a surprised laugh, "A magician, huh?"

"No, I'm not a magician, I'm a wit--" Chris grabbed him and clamped a hand over his brother's mouth. He quickly recoiled his hand, "Gross! You just licked my hand!"

Little Wyatt's blue eyes sparkled and he looked up at Samara, "I'm a witch. I can do real magic."

"What's your name?" Samara asked him, still crouched down to the little boy's level.

Chris grabbed hold of his brother after he had wiped his hand off on his jeans, "Kids. Hah… He has a very vivid imagination," Chris said, "His name is Matthew and uh, we've gotta go. See you later Sam."

Samara smiled as she straightened back up, "You want your rose back?"

"Keep it," Chris said, dragging Wyatt into the apartment and closing the door behind them. As soon as the door was shut and locked, Wyatt proceeded to kick his brother in the shin and took off running around the apartment.

Chris growled, "OW! When I get my hands on you..."

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About thirty minutes later and several tooth grinding moments, Chris had contemplated tying his brother up with duct tape and leaving him in the closet. He paced back and forth across the living room, listening to the ringing of the phone.

"Come on mom, pick up," he mumbled, "Answer the phone. Mom, Dad, somebody..." Chris had no idea where his parents were or what they could be doing. He sighed as the answering machine came on and raked a hand through his hair.

"Hey, Mom, it's Chris," Chris said, "Uh, hi Dad. Look, give me a call when you get this. I uh, need some advice on childcare."

Chris hung up and tried another number, this time he punched in the phone number for his Aunt Paige, but got her answering machine too. "Aunt Paige, Uncle Henry... I tried to call the Manor, but no one answered. Is there a P-three thing going on? I---" Chris stopped as he heard the phone pick up, he smiled slightly, "Hey Patty, screening calls? Is your mom or dad there? No? Work huh? And your mom? With my mom and Aunt Phoebe. Of course. One of those things, huh? Maybe when you're older they'll let you go with them, you're only eleven. Twelve next month, I know... I... hey Parvati, yeah it's Chris. Miss you too. OW!"

Chris looked sharply at Wyatt who had just tackled against his legs, "I want to play orb and seek!"

The younger (though currently older) witchlighter's green eyes flashed as he covered the mouthpiece on the phone. "I'm on the phone."

"I'm bored!" Chris pointed his finger at one of the barstools and Wyatt started to march towards it, grumbling the entire way. This was payback for every time Chris had aggravated his mother while she was on the phone and he knew it. He had just expected it to be several years from now with his own children, instead of so soon… with his pint-sized big brother.

Chris uncovered the phone, "Sorry, can you just tell my mom I'm trying to get in touch with her when they get back? Tha--OW!" Chris staggered against the wall this time and narrowed his eyes to look down and see Wyatt clinging to his ankles. He covered the mouthpiece with one hand and tried prying Wyatt off with the other hand, "I'm about this close to tying you up, gagging you and sticking you in the closet... knock it off you little brat!"

D.J. knocked on the door, opening it up and walking inside, "Hey, what's up... I tried to shimmer in and got blocked out... ended up shimmering into the laundry room. Everything okay? Did you guys cast some sort of spell or something?"

Wyatt saw his opportunity in the form of the open door and he immediately stopped fighting with Chris. The little boy made a break for the escape route. D.J. raised his eyebrows, still in the doorway as the kid blasted past him and took off running down the stairs. Without any clue what was going on, D.J. simply watched with puzzled interest.

"NO! Don't let him out of the--" Chris winced and uncovered the phone, "--sorry girls, gotta go." He hung up on his cousins quickly and ran out the door after Wyatt. In the process he also rushed past a bewildered D.J.

"Babysitting?" D.J. asked, prying himself from the doorway. He leaned out to stare after Chris.

"Brothersitting!" Chris called over his shoulder as he bounded down the stairs.

"Brother..." D.J. said slowly, following Chris.

"That was Wyatt," Chris said over his shoulder, "I cast a spell to keep him from orbing out of the apartment because he wanted to play orb and seek, guess it also kept you out."

"Wyatt?" D.J. asked, bewildered as he followed Chris down the stairs.

"Yes. The little guy that just ran away. Wyatt. Look, it's a long story. You remember earlier this morning? I blame the Elders. Just help me get him back in here..." Chris called as D.J. hurried after him. They both jogged quickly down the stairs, leaving the door to the apartment wide open.

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The door to the Halliwell brother's apartment stood wide open. An open invitation for anyone to walk right in, be they friend or foe. Normal or magical. It was a welcome mat for any demon to step right across the thresh hold and invade the sanctuary of Chris and Wyatt's home.

Or, just as inviting… to suspiciously nosy and secretive neighbors.

Samara Hayley slipped out of her apartment on her way to take some photographs around town. She had taken the rose given to her by little Wyatt and had fixed it into her hair. The blonde woman had her hair pulled back away from her face and her honey colored eyes looked both directions down the hallway as she walked out. There was always something slightly on edge about her, cautious and wary. That had slipped away slightly earlier when she had been with the little boy. Now, she was back to carrying her air of mild paranoia.

She stepped into the hallway and shifted the camera bag she had slung over her shoulder. As she started towards the stairs, she noticed the door to the brother's apartment wide open and her brown eyes strayed to the opening. Samara turned to look towards the stairs, her eyes narrowed and she listened. With that same cautious air, the young woman stepped inside the brother's apartment.

"Hello? Chris? Wyatt?" she called out. She had seen Chris with his cousin out in the hallway about thirty minutes ago.

Hearing no answer she dropped her camera bag by the door and walked further inside. There were still broken pictures, the television broken and knocked over, and other signs of that morning's blow up at Kevin the Elder like the books knocked from the bookshelf. To someone who had just walked by, like Samara, it looked like a quick smash and grab robbery. Samara walked further into the apartment, small signs of an underlying confidence in her cautious demeanor were showing through. It was clear to her that the brothers weren't here, but there was the potential for whoever had caused the mess to still be there.

"Matthew?" Samara asked, "Chris?"

The lack of an answer emboldened her and she quickly crossed into the living room of the apartment, looking like a wholly different person. Her brown eyes moved quickly through the apartment, scanning the entire space for exits, means of entry and hiding places. In the same rote she took in the extent of the damage within with something of a morbid curiosity and suspicion. The woman's eyes swept the room for anything revealing and alighted on the notebooks and papers on the coffee table.

Samara scanned through some of the papers, picking them up. She moved aside a couple of medical textbooks and picked up a notebook, flipping through it.

Samara shook her head and dropped the book back onto the coffee table. She looked towards the doors to Wyatt and Chris' bedrooms thoughtfully, as well as at the storage closet door. They weren't open. If someone had robbed the place, they should be open too, shouldn't they? She pressed her lips together considering, and then, shaking her head, Samara went back to the door and grabbed her camera bag before she ducked back out to be on her way.

Samara closed the door behind her.

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Wyatt Halliwell raced down the stairs and flung his hands at the door of the building, sprinting full force into the sunlight beyond. The busy streets and sidewalks drew him up short, but he shot a look over his shoulder at the building behind him. The little boy panted, out of breath, but he couldn't stop or Chris would get him. He didn't want to be tied up in a closet. Blue eyes darted up and down the street and Wyatt raced at a full sprint down the street.

He eyed the crosswalk and the people crossing, but bit his lip as he looked at the cars and figures. His mother had told him not to cross the street unless he was holding someone's hand, so instead, he turned the corner and continued to follow the sidewalk. He was running as quickly as his little legs would take him. Only a few people paused to look after the fleeing child, but no one really took any real trouble to stop him or find out what was going on with him.

Society is funny that way. It tends to turn a blind eye to things that it doesn't particularly want to see or take notice of. A lone child, running down a busy street in a hectic city like Boston… one would think someone out of all those masses would take notice and step outside their little bubbles to find out who he was and what was wrong… but not a single soul paid attention.

Not a single soul except another child, a girl maybe five years older than Wyatt himself was currently. She had just purchased a hotdog from a street vendor and seeing the running boy, she too took off running after him.

"Hey, wait up!" the girl called.

Wyatt looked over his shoulder and slowed enough for her to catch up.

"Who are you running from?" she asked.

"My brother's gonna kill me," Wyatt said.

"Come with me…"

Obediently and more than eager, Wyatt followed the little brunette girl. She couldn't have been more than nine-or-so, but she placed a hand on Wyatt's shoulder and the pair of them hurried off down the street together.

Chris and D.J. got to the crosswalk and stopped. Chris looked at D.J. and frowned, eyes on the crosswalk, then down the sidewalk to the right. He wasn't sure which way Wyatt could have gone. "Split up," Chris told D.J. The witchlighter crossed the crosswalk, while the light was red, dodging around cars and muttering apologies to the drivers who couldn't hear him. D.J. watched him nearly get run over and made a face, before he went the other way, tracking his now four-year-old best friend.

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