So, after like forever on fanfiction, I am finally posting a story. So please, please, review. Constructive criticism is very welcome, but please no flames.
Disclaimer: I don't own Charmed, and I won't for the rest of the story either.
Chris Halliwell woke up panting. He couldn't remember the dreams except in vague flashes.
But he knew they had been about Excalibur; the sword had been haunting his dreams for weeks.
Chris sat up and rubbed his eyes before going to the small bathroom in the back of P3 and splashing water over his face. Chris caught his breath and tried to wipe thoughts of the sword out of his mind, but it lingered there anyway.
That night was different. The dreams had been stronger than any of the previous nights, and so was the pull that he felt anytime he was around the sword. Chris shook his head. He shouldn't be thinking about Excalibur, as it was in the future with Wyatt.
He remembered when his brother had pulled the sword out of the stone.
Wyatt orbed in to find Chris sitting there by the body, trying to stop the flow of blood with his hands while tears streamed down his face. Wyatt then instantly tried to heal her, but he couldn't. When he failed he called for Leo, who came instantly for his eldest son's cries. But it was too late; Piper Halliwell was dead.
It was raining on the cold November day of the funeral, which Chris was thankful for, as it did some to hide his tears. Leo was crying too but avoiding his sons' eyes; Wyatt was now also cold to him, and Chris now downright ignored his father. Wyatt was staring stoically at the casket as it lowered into the damp ground.
The next day found Chris sitting on the couch with a blank look on his face while Wyatt paced ceaselessly.
"I got it!" Wyatt had exclaimed before running up the stairs. Chris, surprised out of his stupor, walked slowly after his brother to the attic. He found his brother facing away from him in what Chris knew was his thinking pose.
Chris would never forget the moment he first laid eyes on Excalibur. As Wyatt had moved away from the sword, Chris had caught a glance and he downright gasped. It's beautiful, was his first thought. He started to walk towards it.
"Nuh-uh, little brother," Wyatt said, holding Chris back with his hand. "Nice try, but we both know it's mine."
The fourteen year old wasn't listening, though; he was listening to the soft hum of power and downright goodness that was radiating off of the sword.
Wyatt stepped towards Excalibur. "Well, here goes nothing." And he pulled the sword out of the stone.
Chris shook his head again, trying to disperse the memory. That was a long time ago, he told himself. Chris lay down on his bed and tried to fall back asleep, but his racing mind and a buzzing in the back of his mind wouldn't let him.
There's the first chapter of my first story! I plan on updating a few times a week, but no promises.
There's this lovely review box there at the bottom of your screen (hint hint)