Author's Notes: This story came about from...too many hours of watching Charmed. I've actually had it completed for quite a while, but since just having come back to I haven't uploaded it yet. I've got others, too, so hopefully people like this one as much as they do the others. Now, this story (as well as the others), was written BEFORE I found out about the The Book of Three, which apparently tells you the ages of the Charmed Ones' kids and all of that...Some are mentioned here and there, but all are between the ages of 10-17 (It's not really that important). This story takes place in the year 2025. As always, I'd love to get reviews with your thoughts on the piece :-D

Chris had always been told just how similar he was to his late aunt Prue. In fact, he had heard it so many times over the years that it pretty much had lost its meaning, and whenever it came up he would reply with a dismissive wave of his hand or a shake of his head. He even resembled her in a lot of ways when it came to appearance as well, what with his dark hair, somewhat pale complexion and his light, bluish green eyes.

So he wondered, then, if he was so much like his aunt Prue, why was he having so much trouble getting through to his brother, who was supposedly very similar to their mother? From what he knew about her and their aunt, the two of them seemed to get along just fine, and they tended to agree with each other on things. Perhaps there was more to it than he thought there was.

They were in the attic of the Halliwell manor, Chris thumbing through the Book of Shadows to find the name of the warlock they were looking for, while Wyatt attempted to scry for him using one of their crystals. They had been in this scene so many times before, and, like a lot of those times, they were butting heads on the way that they were going to find the person.

"You can't just scry for him without having something that belongs to him, Wyatt, you know that," Chris said. He furrowed his brow.

Wyatt ignored his brother for a moment, just twirling the crystal slowly over the map. "God, Chris, would you stop it? I've done it before, I can do it again."

"Yeah, and you did it with someone you'd already seen. That's the big difference here. We're just going off of what we read in the paper."

It would have probably helped a lot if there had been a photo in the newspaper with the person in question, but there hadn't been. Chris and Wyatt were attending the same college that their Aunt Phoebe had, though both were studying entirely different subjects. Currently they were ignoring homework for the more important issues: demon fighting. There had been two murders on the campus in the past month, one at the beginning and one toward the end, both of which had happened to witches. And, neither Wyatt nor Chris seemed at all able to figure out who was doing it, because the clues left behind were far from helpful.

"God, I wish they had just left something behind," Chris muttered darkly. "It would be so much easier."

"It would be a lot easier if you would just be quiet so I can concentrate." Wyatt shot a look over his shoulder at his brother, who just made a face at him and moved away from the book. Wyatt continued to try and scry for the warlock, but to no avail. The crystal wasn't landing anywhere, and he didn't feel any sort of pull in any direction on the map. A few moments later he finally put the crystal down and groaned in frustration.

"Told you," Chris said.

"Oh, just look for him in the Book. You didn't find anything based on what we got from the last one?"

"No. At least, nothing definite. It could be any of them in the Book from what we saw…could be any lower level demon, or a warlock, or whatever. Some power-stealer who's going after inexperienced witches and killing them."

Wyatt sighed. "Well, we can at least narrow it down to the ones that we know mom and them haven't vanquished…" He moved toward the Book of Shadows, brushing his fingers over the page it was on. It was open to one that talked about lower level demons and common ways to kill them. "If it is a low-level warlock, which it probably is, then I don't think they'd be in here…"

"In which case we're right back where we started." Chris threw his hands up. "Let's just go back to the scene and see if there's some kind of pattern."

"Hard to get a pattern with just two people," Wyatt said. "We could always just try and scry for witches on the campus, if that's where the guy's focusing specifically?"

"…Do you know how many there could be on campus? Actually magical and just practicing?" Chris asked. He couldn't believe that Wyatt would suggest such a thing. "It—"

"—Okay, okay, so it wasn't such a good idea. Jeez, Chris, calm down. We'll figure it out. Don't get so worked up over it."

"I've got stuff to do for school, Wyatt, and I need time to do it. I can't just chase some warlock or demon or whatever without knowing who, or what, they are, and where they're going to attack next." Chris rubbed his eyes. "I'm going back to the scenes to see if there's any similarity." Without giving his brother any warning, he orbed out of the attic.

Wyatt only groaned against in frustration, following after his brother.

When the two of them reappeared at the last crime scene, the only visible light was that coming from the moon outside. It wasn't very much, just enough for the two of them to see one another. Chris moved toward the window and looked out it while Wyatt went over to the door to check and see if it was locked. When everything checked out safely, the two of them began looking around the room. The police had already cleared the scene, so there was no reason to assume anyone would be popping in anytime soon to check for prints. Both of them searched for anything that they thought might provide some kind of hint or clue as to a possible pattern.

"Nothing," Wyatt said after a few minutes, sounded irritated. "I can't think—"

"Wyatt," Chris suddenly interjected, "What floor are we on?"

"…I dunno. The second? Third?" He went over to the window, which overlooked a courtyard that the three dormitories shared. "Yeah, the second, I was right." The older one turned toward his brother. "Why?"

Chris didn't say anything at first, moving toward the window beside the other. He looked across the way, pointing at the room just opposite them on the other side of the courtyard. "…Wasn't the other murder in that room across the way, on the same floor?"

Wyatt blinked. "…Maaaybe…I don't remember." He, too, looked across the way at the room that Chris was pointing at.

"Check the room number on this room."

Just when he was about to disagree, Chris gestured toward the door. Wyatt made a face, but did it anyways. He checked carefully, so as to not let anyone know that they were in there. "We're in 203."

"I think that one was, too," the younger one mused. "Stay here." Pausing momentarily, Chris then orbed out of the room and headed toward the other scene. When he arrived across the way he brought his face close to the window, and he could see his older brother standing in the room he had just been in.

After a brief check of the room number he orbed back, and rubbed his hands together. "You know what I didn't notice last time? These rooms are set up exactly the same…right down to the angle of the bed and the dresser. These are tiny ass rooms."

Wyatt raised an eyebrow disbelievingly. "So…what you're saying is that the demon or warlock is attacking people based on the fact that they're in room 203, and in these dormitories?"

Chris waved his hand. "I know it's not the best thing to go off of, but it's all we've got for now besides the fact that we know they were both stabbed by an athame, and that they were witches. What do we know about the other dormitory's room 203?"

"Nothing. Probably just some person living in there, is all. Should we keep a stake out, or what?"

"Might be a good idea. It's…little to go off of, but it's worth a shot." Chris rubbed his hands together.

"A long shot. What're the odds that there's going to be three actual magical witches in the same room in each of the dormitories?"

"Yeah, well, if you have anything better, I'm all ears…"

Wyatt stayed quiet.


"Fuck, I'm gonna be late…"

A boy of about twenty-one years of age, with an average height and build and dirty blonde hair was standing in his living room, looking somewhat pressed. His name was Nathan Jones, and a student living at the local college. He brushed his hands through his short hair and looked at himself in the mirror. Class was in about five minutes, but from his dorm room it usually took him about ten to get there. If he ran, he might chop a little bit of time off…though not enough to make him on time. And since his professor was a jerk and locked the door to the classroom once the lesson started, he had no idea how in the world he was going to get there in time.

Darting out of his bathroom he went toward his desk to grab his bag. He had his handle on the doorknob, just about to head out, when he realized he had forgotten his wallet and his keys, both of which usually sat on his nightstand.

"Damn it," he cursed irritably. He dropped his bag and headed toward his bed. His wallet was there on his nightstand, but his keys weren't. "Where did I put them?" he asked himself aloud. Nathan shot around his apartment, looking on the desk, the counter, in his bathroom, and beside his bookshelf and dresser. They weren't anywhere to be found. "Damn it!" he cursed again, but louder.

He couldn't figure out what in the world he had done with them, and he was running out of time even worse than he had been before. Nathan stopped in his kitchen, looking all around him. They couldn't be found. He was going to miss his class, and his professor was going to mark him down for being absent again.

But then he began to feel light headed, and suddenly, everything went black. When he came back to, he found himself staring at a toilet, of all things. Nathan rubbed his eyes and looked around him. He was standing in a stall, but he couldn't be sure which one it was. And he wasn't even sure why in the world he was standing in one in the first place. Hesitantly, he reached for the handle of the door and pulled it open, stepping out into the bathroom. He recognized it right away as the bathroom near his classroom.

"What the hell am I doing he—"

Before he was able to finish that thought Nathan began to feel lightheaded again. He stumbled back against the stall door and blacked out. It only lasted a moment, and soon he found himself right back where he had been before, in his kitchen. He rubbed his forehead and his eyes once more, completely surprised.

"…I was wondering if this was going to happen," he murmured to himself.


Wyatt put his head in his hands and almost groaned, but instead he whispered quietly to his brother, "We've been here for over an hour, and no one's attacked. We can't keep hiding in this room. Someone's gonna come here to pick up this girl's stuff and take it home…and if we're here when that happens…"

Chris waved his hand quickly at his brother to hush him. They were staking out in the room they had been in a few nights before, keeping a watch over the other room 203 in the third dormitory surrounding the courtyard. Lights were on and there was a silhouette of someone sitting at the desk; everything seemed all right, as it had been the entire time that the two boys had been there. They shared a look with one another before Chris returned his attention to the window.

"What if he's out there right now killing other innocents, Chris?" Wyatt asked. "What are we supposed to do then?"

"If it's so much of a damn bother to sit here and wait, then why don't you go and scry for the warlock again?"

"You know what? I don't know what's gotten into you, but you've been a real pill lately." Wyatt stood up, putting one hand on his hip and pointing with the other at Chris. "This is supposed to be something we're doing together. You know, like mom wants? Or would you rather do it with Melinda? I'm sure she'd be more than happy to help, if you can pull her away from her friends for more than five minutes."

Chris stared over his shoulder at his brother. "Are you gonna sit there and bitch, or are you gonna help me?"

Wyatt almost growled in response. "I'm not gonna sit here when all we've got is the dumb long shot you came up with."

"Oh yeah? You didn't seem so against it when I came up with it a couple of nights ago."

"Yeah, because I was tired of arguing! Like I am right now." Wyatt shook his head. "I'm going home. I doubt anything's going to happen. And if it does, I'll be damn surprised." Not even waiting for another word, Wyatt orbed out of the dorm room.

"Good riddance," Chris said with a roll of his eyes, returning his attention to the window. Without Wyatt there to distract him he could focus better on the task at hand, which was going to probably take all night at this rate. The last murder had happened late into the night, and even though he had class in the morning, Chris knew that a person's life was more important than working on logarithms.

For a while, nothing happened. The young Halliwell continued to stare out the window, his focus lessening with each and every passing minute. He found himself feeling just a little tired, and so he rested his forehead against the windowpane. Soon thereafter he found his eyelids feeling heavy, and they slowly shut themselves, until he felt like he might just doze off…

All of a sudden, there was a muffled crashing sound that came not too far away. Chris staggered for a moment once he moved away from the window, and he saw the silhouette that had been sitting at the desk flash by, and another one appear. He was right.

Wyatt was going to eat his words.

Despite having never been in the room, Chris orbed there as quickly as he could. When he appeared he saw the innocent slamming the door shut to the bathroom, and the warlock preparing to chase after him. Clearly the warlock wasn't expecting interference, because he stopped suddenly and looked at Chris in surprise.

"Surprised to see me?" he said, pointing his finger at him before quickly whipping it toward the desk. The warlock went flying and hit the wall, and he fell on top of the desk with a loud grunt. This was neither the time nor the place for a fight, and Chris knew that if they did fight, it was going to ruin this kid's place, and the important thing right now was saving him. Plus, there would be interference from outside sources…

Since he could hear the other guy fumbling with locking the door, Chris just grabbed the doorknob to the bathroom and shoved it open. He felt pressure against it that lasted only for a moment, and after he made his way inside he grabbed hold of the other's arm.

"What's going on!?" he yelped.

As Chris began to orb them away, he said, "I'm saving you."