Author's Notes: This is the first story I've uploaded in a long time to It's sort of my test story to see how things work out, because a lot of things have changed and I'm not sure if I like them or not. Anyways, this is just a short little ficlet about Chris when he's about 13, and so on. I don't own Charmed, or any of the characters therein.

Chris knelt down carefully onto the dark, wooden floor of the manor's attic. It was the first time in a while he had been up there. His mother didn't want him spending time around all the potions ingredients or the Book. It was too dangerous, she said. He didn't have any reason, she said. He wasn't old enough yet.

Well, Chris thought that thirteen was more than old enough to learn how to summon things. Sure, he could use his hybrid orbing abilities to call things to him, but that wasn't what he wanted. No, he had other things in mind.

With the last white candle in place, he moved to stand and went back over to the small table that had a lighter on it. One by one he lit the candles, feeling the anxiousness building up inside of him more and more with each passing moment. His mother would kill him if she knew what he was doing. So would his dad, for that matter.

"Magic isn't a toy, Chris. You're going to have a heavy weight on your shoulders with it in the future, so don't be in such a hurry to use it so much. Enjoy being a kid."

He frowned upon recalling that. His dad was on his case about it much more than his mom was, but that didn't mean that he was any less frustrated with it all. Surely they would get it if he explained to them why he was doing what he was. It was the little things, really; the whispers among his parents—and his aunt Phoebe, for that matter—about how much he was like her: so focused, determined. Chris had never known her, and he most certainly didn't have the ability to go back and time and meet her. This was the next best thing.

Retreating back to the Book of Shadows, Chris stared at the entry in front of him and ran his fingers down the aged, somewhat wrinkled page.

"To summon a spirit," he said aloud. His eyes instantly shot toward the attic door, just to check and see if anyone was coming. He could hear faintly the sound of the television downstairs. Wyatt must have been watching it.

Just for safety he waved his hand and caused the door to close shut. He didn't want to be interrupted, because he had never actually cast a spell like this before, and he didn't want to ruin it. Taking a deep breath, Chris rubbed his hands together, looked at the circle for a moment, then returned his gaze to the page and read:

"Hear these words, hear my cry, Spirit from the other side. Come to me, I summon thee. Cross now the great divide."

At first nothing happened. He felt immediately disappointed, but it was quickly wiped from his mind upon the sight of the little glowing orbs that began swirling around inside the circle of candles. It wasn't long thereafter that they began solidifying into a form of sorts, and a somewhat transparent woman that he had only seen in photos appeared, her long, dark hair cascading over her shoulders and down her back. It was the same color as Chris'.

For a moment Chris stood there looking positively flabberghasted. On some level he hadn't expected it to work, so it was a surprise in itself that he had been able to do it on the first try. What surprised him more was what she said next, and with a small smile on her face.


"…Aunt Prue?"

Prue, looking no older than the day of her untimely death, remained inside the circle of candles, but she folded her arms over her chest. She was still smiling some. "Yeah, it's me. I was wondering when you were going to try and summon me."

Chris still was having a hard time believing it. He had seen demons vanquished in front of his very eyes, had seen Elders appear and disappear, and he had managed to do all sorts of magical things…but this, it just was. He couldn't express his feelings then, a mix of surprise and anxiousness mixed with happiness. She was here. He could talkto her.

"I've been wanting to," he admitted quietly, looking down at the page of the Book again. "Summon you, I mean."

"I know. I watch over all of you, just to make sure everything is going okay. I try to help when I can."

Chris, who usually always had something to say, found himself strangely speechless at that moment. He hadn't really thought this out, he realized. Sure, he had thought out the magical part, but he hadn't thought about what he would talk to his Aunt Prue about if the summoning had worked.

She had apparently caught onto that.

"I think I know why you summoned me here."

It was at that point that she stepped out of the circle of candles, and her form became fully solid. She was wearing simple robes that folded around her sort of like a toga, which was the first thing that he noticed. When she stepped up near the Book he looked up at her, blinking. Before he knew what was happening, he found that tears were welling up his eyes.

"They talk about you sometimes," he murmured, reaching up to quickly wipe at his eyes. Why was he crying, he wondered? "Mom and Aunt Phoebe. Aunt Paige not so much, but."

Prue chuckled. "I didn't think she would. We didn't get the chance to get to know each other."

Chris nodded. "They miss you."

"I know they do. I told you, I'm watching, remember?" Prue reached over the stand and the Book, grasping a hold of Chris' shoulder. He let himself be guided into her arms, and he hugged her tightly. He felt comfort in the fact that she was hugging him just the same. "I know what they say about me…and about you. And it's true in some ways. I can see it."

At this point it was hard for him to keep himself from crying. So instead of fighting it he just let the tears come, and he found that he felt a little bit better in doing so. Looking up to her, Chris said, "I just…I just wish I had gotten a chance to know you too, you know?"

"Well, you have the chance now," Prue said, ruffling his short, dark brown hair. She smiled again, warmly. "But you have to remember, you can't just start summoning me whenever. I have a life up there too."

That made him laugh quietly.

"Just remember that I'm watching over you, too. You're my sister's baby. I could never let you get hurt, even if I can't be there to physically stop it. And Wyatt and Melinda, I'm watching over them, too. But you," Prue hugged him again, "you're Piper's pride and joy. I can see it when she hugs you, when she kisses you, even if you don't always like it." Chris smiled faintly, and she continued on, "And I think, in a way, it's because you remind her of me. Your mom and I were very close, just like you two are. She loves you very much. I love you very much."

"I wish you could be here," Chris said, sniffing and wiping his nose against the sleeve of his shirt.

"I am, Chris. Don't forget that."

"I love you," he told her.

Prue hugged him one final time before gently pulling back. "I love you too, Chris. But…I need to get back."

"Okay." He sniffed again, watching her step back into the circle of candles. Her figure faded, as if someone had lowered her opacity level. She was a spirit again. "…Bye," he told her, but he found himself sort of smiling.

"Nah, not good bye," Prue laughed. "More like a…see you. All right?"

He laughed, too, and brushed his sleeve under his nose again. "…Okay. See you."

As quickly as his Aunt Prue had appeared she seemed to disappear, her body slowly fading as she turned into the swirling orbs of golden light. Soon there was nothing there. He was all alone.

Chris wiped at some of the warm tears that were dripping down his face, as well as those that had dried on his cheeks. Wyatt had Aunt Paige, and Melinda had Aunt Phoebe. And now he…he had his Aunt Prue.

Even if he couldn't always see her.

He smiled a little.