Snipets 'n Scenes

Cassandra Cole hoisted her bag up onto her shoulder and sighed. The campus library was not her ideal place to spend a Saturday afternoon, but she had a research paper on medieval women to complete. She had been neglecting it to study physics, and she thought she’d take the time to devote some attention to a class in her major while her study partner was busy working.

She still found herself struggling with physics, but thanks to Christopher Halliwell she was managing to keep her head above water.

Actually, thanks to him, she was managing to keep herself alive as well.

It had been almost a month since Cassie’s mother died and she discovered she was a witch. Suddenly discovering she had magical powers was not the only surprise in store for her. Her study partner and his brother, Wyatt, were also magical: part witch, part Whitelighter. More specifically, Wyatt was her Whitelighter, assigned the task of guarding and protecting her.

She grit her teeth as she increased her pace, looking over her shoulder in 60-second intervals. Wyatt had told her things were currently ‘demon-lite’ but she had encountered four more power broker demons since the first one shimmered into her living room. Her Whitelighter may think that number was low, but she felt like she was constantly being attacked.

To help her out, Chris had given her some vials of the leftover vanquishing potion they had used on the first demon. But between the attacks and her less-than-stellar aim, she was down to her last vial. She slid her hand into her jacket pocket, fingers enclosing on the smooth glass of the last remaining vial. She was ready to throw it if need be.

Campus was quiet. Normally Cassie would have soaked in the silence, basked in it. It wasn’t unusual for campus to be quiet on the weekends. Many of the students went home. But recent events cause the young witch to distrust the peacefulness, jitters getting the better of her. She approached a fork in the cobblestone path, but instead of heading left, something to her right caught her attention. There was group of students gathered in front of the dorms.

She headed right, and as she drew closer she saw their attention was directed upwards. Cassie gasped when she realized someone was standing on the edge of the roof of the 10-story dorm. She ran towards the building and shoved her way into the middle of the gathering, intent on discovering what was going on.

There was a definite buzz in the air. Her fellow students had gotten as close to the building as the campus and local police would allow. She continued to push her way forward until only the caution tape was in front of her. “Is that a student?” she asked the girl next to her.

“The cops won’t say, but it’s got to be, doesn’t it? Why would anyone else be on top of the building?” the girl responded. She pulled a cellular phone from her pocket and dialed. “Mom, you’re not going to believe this . . .” she spoke, and continued to describe the situation.

Cassie turned to the young man on her right. He was wearing sweatpants, a t-shirt, and flip-flops on his feet. His hair was standing at odd angles. “How long has he been up there? Do you know?” she asked him.

The young man stifled a yawn. “Since they evacuated us out of the dorm this morning. I didn’t check the clock, but it’s gotta be over an hour already.”

Cassie looked up again. This time, she saw the student was not alone. An older man dressed in black was standing behind him. “You think that guy is going to talk him down?” she asked the still-sleepy student on her right.

“What guy?” he asked.

“The guy up on the roof,” Cassie replied, pointing upwards.

The young man looked at her like she had three heads. “You seeing double or something?”

She looked up again, and again saw the two figures on the roof. She turned her head and was about to plead her case to the young man standing next to her when a collective gasp redirected her attention to the roof. The student had moved closer to the edge, then jumped.

“Oh, no!” Cassie shouted, covering her eyes. While she was able to block out the sight, she was not able to block out the thud of the fellow student’s impact with the sidewalk.

She took a few deep breaths before uncovering her eyes. There was a flurry of activity, police and EMTs moving in what seemed like a blur. She looked up at the roof once more, checking her eyes weren’t playing tricks, just in time to see the other figure disappear in a puff of black smoke.

So, I've started work on my second story. Here's the first scene. It's not much, but it's complete. :)

Miracle of miracles, my first "Charmed" story is complete.

"An Angel Gets His Wings"

Who would have thunk it?

Cassie stood on the front porch of the old, red Victorian on Prescott Street, fidgeting nervously. A clean casserole dish and oven mitts in hand, she was debating whether to ring the bell or just leave the items on the porch and make a run for it. She sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes towards the heavens. “Chicken,” she taunted herself. She sighed one more time before swallowing hard then ringing the doorbell.

The front door swung open, revealing an older man with hair graying around the temples. “May I help you?” he asked with a friendly smile.

“Umm, yeah,” Cassie responded, and inwardly cringed at her lack of eloquence. “I’m just returning Mrs. Halliwell’s casserole dish and oven mitts,” she said, holding out the items to the man before her.

“Sure. Won’t you come in?” he asked, gesturing for her to step in from the front porch, and after a moment’s hesitation, she did. “Piper!” he called.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Wyatt,” Cassie said, not wanting to appear rude as she entered the Manor. It was clear Wyatt took after his father in build, stature, and coloring. The exception, though, was the eyes. Chris was the son with his father’s eyes. “I’m Cassie.”

“Hello, Cassie. And please, call me Leo,” he instructed, shutting the door. “Piper!” he called out again. “Please, make yourself at home,” he said, leading the young woman into the living room.

“Geez, Leo, what’s with the yelling?” Piper’s voice floated into the living room, increasing in volume as she drew nearer. “You know how I feel about raised voices in the house. You’re as bad as the boys.” The Halliwell matriarch walked into the room, drying her hands on a towel. She came to a stop when she saw the young woman sitting on her couch and smiled. “You must be Cassie,” she said.

“Hello, Mrs. Halliwell,” the young woman said, returning the greeting. “I just wanted to return these and thank you for the meal,” she said, handing the older woman her casserole dish and oven mitts.

“Please, call me Piper,” the matriarch instructed. “Do me a favor and put these in the kitchen,” she said, handing Leo the items. “And while you’re in there, can you give the sauce a quick stir, please?”

“Sure thing,” Leo said. He knew his wife had been interested in speaking with his son’s charge ever since she found out her mother died. Perhaps it would be therapeutic for the both of them. He nodded his head at the twosome. “Nice to meet you, Cassie.”

“Nice to meet you . . . Leo,” Cassie responded, smiling despite her hesitance at addressing him by his first name. That’s just not how she was raised. But she felt more at ease when he returned her grin before leaving the room. She turned to the woman standing next to her. “Thank you again for the casserole, Mrs. . . . Piper,” she corrected herself. “It was nice to have a home cooked meal.”

“Don’t mention it.” Piper sat down on the couch and gestured for the young woman to do the same. “So, how are you doing?”

“I’m . . .” Cassie was about to say ‘hanging in there,’ which had become her standard response to that question since her mother died. But here was this woman, who was also familiar with losing a loved one, asking how she was, and so she decided to give honesty a try. “A bit of a wreck,” she admitted, exhaling. “Some days . . . I feel . . . ” She sighed and shook her head slightly. “Really, I just can’t wrap my brain around it all. Everything happened so fast,” she rambled, her hands waving as frantically as her words, seeming to emphasize how quickly all the changes in her life had transpired.

“I know this probably isn’t what you want to hear, but it’s to be expected, everything you’re feeling.” Piper nodded her head, offering reassurance and support.

Cassie nodded. “That’s what Wyatt keeps telling me, but I don’t know. I just . . . ” At a loss for words, she dropped her head to stare intently at her thumbs while she twiddled them.

Piper sighed, studying the young woman, her heart aching for her. Not a day went by that she didn’t stop and think about her mother or Prue. And it took her a long time to learn that instead of feeling pain and hurt from it all, it was better to appreciate everything, everyone, and every single day that much more. But it’s hard to come to that realization when you’re going through it alone.

The young woman sitting next to her reminded her so much of herself. Motherly instinct kicking in, she reached out and touched Cassie’s chin, raising her head so their eyes could meet. “You know, I could be biased because he’s my son and all,” she said with a smile, “but give it a shot and listen to him.” She tilted her head to one side, pointing towards another set of doors. “He’s working on a project in the conservatory.” She rose from the couch. “You’re welcome to stay for dinner,” she offered with a smile.

“Thanks,” Cassie replied. And after a moment’s hesitation accepted the offer, nodding her assent. “I think I will.”

“Good. I’m just going to go check on everything and set an extra place at the table,” Piper said, standing up. “I’m glad you decided to stay,” she said before leaving the room.

Cassie turned to face the entry to the conservatory and inhaled deeply. She began to tap the heel of her right foot up and down at a rapid pace, her nerves beginning to take over. Her conversation with Wyatt on campus had been on permanent repeat in her mind. And now that she’d made a decision, instead of feeling less anxious about it all she felt it in spades. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and said softly, “Here goes nothing,” before walking into the room.

Wyatt was sitting at a table, his back to the entryway, and completely unaware he had company. Cassie could tell by his posture that he was work intently, his concentration devoted to the project before him. She took a step closer and saw it was a model of a Victorian house. Even with her untrained eye, she could see the detail in the work, and was impressed that something so small could be so exquisite.

“How long were you planning to stand there?” Wyatt asked, his deep, soothing voice cutting through the silence.

Cassie jumped in surprise. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you even knew I was here.”

“I sensed you enter the room. One of the perks of being your Whitelighter,” he explained. He sat back to allow his charge a better look at his project. “Any thoughts?” he asked.

“Pretty impressive,” Cassie complimented his handiwork.

“Thanks, although this isn’t really how I envisioned it.”

“What’s it for?”

“My internship. I’m studying to be an architect. I have a particular interest in ‘old’ houses, not surprising considering I grew up in the Manor, I guess,” he said, scratching his head as he scrutinized his work. “So I’m working on a project where the house will have the craftsmanship and charm of the early 20th century, but with some modern conveniences like closet space.”

“There’s a market for ‘old’ homes?”

“Everything moves in cycles, and I think we’re about due to revisit this architectural era.” He looked up. “So, what brings you here?”

“I was just returning your mom’s casserole dish and oven mitts,” Cassie explained. She pointed over her shoulder towards the kitchen, as if that was somehow proof of her visit. She paused for a moment before continuing. “She invited me to stay for dinner,” she said softly.

“Are you?”

“Yeah, I am.” When Wyatt didn’t responded, instead resuming his work, Cassie took in her surroundings. The room was bright and airy, with plenty of potted plants. There was a definite warmth to the space, and not just from the steady stream of sunshine. She slowly walked around, observing the stained-glass windows and French doors leading out to the cobblestone patio. Then she spied a beautiful dollhouse sitting on the table of a bistro carefully placed in the corner of the room. “Did you build this too?” she asked her Whitelighter, pointing to the replica of the Manor.

“No, my great-grandmother made that,” Wyatt explained. He abandoned his project and walked over to stand next to his charge and admire Grams’ handiwork. “Although we suspect she had some magical assistance.”

“Magic, huh?” It just seemed to be everywhere. And if she chose not to use her powers, to not be a witch, could she continue ‘business as usual’ knowing what is out there? “Can’t seem to get away from it. Is it even possible?”

“We’ve all tried at some point. But my family’s learned that you can’t run from or deny your destiny, or who you are for that matter. We’ve come to embrace it, some of us begrudgingly, but we’ve embraced it nevertheless.”

She turned to look at the young man standing beside her. He was returning her gaze, and offered her a gentle smile. She looked into his blue eyes, and saw nothing but compassion and support. It was true what he had said earlier; she wasn’t alone. And it was because of that realization she was able to sum up the courage to ask, “Can you show me how?”

Wyatt’s smile grew brighter. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Cassie sighed as she hoisted her bag up onto her shoulder, surveying everyone around her as she crossed the Quad. It was a sunny Monday and her first day back on campus since her mother had died. The area was a flurry of activity, but she felt detached from it all. Her aunt was back east so she had the condo to herself, and without the hospital to go to she felt anxious and uncomfortable at home. She came to school early, hoping to get her mind off her loneliness and grief, but instead it felt amplified. It didn’t matter where she went or how many people she surrounded herself with, the bottom line was she’d still be alone.

She sat down on a bench and placed her bag between her feet. She leaned back and closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her face. She continued to soak up the rays until a shadow hung over her. She cracked an eye open and found herself frowning at the sight. “You lost?” she asked.

“Seeing as I take classes here, no, I’m quite familiar with the campus,” Wyatt replied. “Mind if I join you?” he asked.

“Would you go away if I said yes?” Cassie asked.

“No,” the young man responded, sitting down next to his charge. “So, how are you holding up?”

Cassie sighed. “I managed to get out of bed this morning. That’s really the best I can say for myself.” She kept her eyes closed and her face in the direction of the sun, wishing the warmth could wash away her sadness.

“My Aunt Paige said it’ll never be okay, but it will get better,” Wyatt offered the words of encouragement, tiling his head back and enjoying the sun’s rays as well.

“Oh? And what would she know about it?”

“Her parents died in a car accident when she was in high school,” the Whitelighter explained.

With those words Cassie’s eyes snapped open. She sat up straight and turned to face Wyatt. He was still leaned back on the bench, his eyes closed, a feeling of content on his face, the rays of the sun giving him an angelic glow. “I’m . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t realize . . . your grandparents . . . ” Her voice trailed off as she stumbled over the words, the apology dieing on her lips.

“No, they weren’t my grandparents. My aunt was adopted,” Wyatt explained, opening his eyes and adjusting in his seat. “She found my mom and Aunt Phoebe after Aunt Prue died.” He raised his arms to stretch, feeling like a lazy cat in the sun. “But since you mentioned it, only my mother’s father is still alive. The rest of my grandparents died before I was born.”

“I know what that’s like,” Cassie commented, thinking of her own family tree. “Do you have any cousins at least?”

“Yeah, six of them, and five are girls,” Wyatt said, smiling.

“Just swimming in a pool of estrogen, aren’t ya?” The corners of her mouth turned upwards in a small smile.

“No kidding. I was the first male born into the family,” Wyatt told her.

“No!” Cassie’s jaw dropped. “That can’t be!”

“I’m afraid it is. The Warren line was all female until I was born.”

“The Warren line?” Cassie asked, a puzzled expression on her face. “I thought your last name was Halliwell.”

“It is. But Melinda Warren was the first witch in my family, and since the family was all women, the surname changed many times. My great-grandmother changed her last name to Halliwell when she married her first husband. My grandmother and mom kept the name, so . . . ” He shrugged his shoulders, as if to say ‘and here we are.’

“And your Dad doesn’t mind, you not having his last name?”

“Nah. At least, I don’t think so. He always said good magic respected the name ‘Halliwell’ and evil feared it, so it would be best if it’s my last name, as well. I was named after him, though. His last name is Wyatt.” He opened his school bag and removed a pack of gum. He popped a piece into his mouth, and held out the pack to his charge, offering her a piece. “What about you? Named after anyone special?” he asked.

Cassie removed a piece of gum from the pack and smiled. “Not exactly. My mother’s name was Catherine and my father’s was Cameron. So they thought it would be neat if my name started with a C, too. I don’t know how they decided on Cassandra, though.” She popped the piece of gum into her mouth.

Wyatt chuckled. “Sounds like my family. Many generations of P names.”

“P names?”

“Yeah. Penny, Patty, Prudence, Piper, Phoebe and Paige,” he counted them off on his fingers. “And I know there are more.” He smiled. “I don’t know what was so special about the letter P, but I am glad that particular family tradition ended with Chris and I,” he mused.

“Names are important,” Cassie told him and she looked down at her hands, folded in her lap. “Possessions, things, they come and go. But a name . . . it’s with you forever, describes who are you. And sometimes they become self-fulfilling prophecies.”

“Prophecies?” Wyatt asked, his interest piqued. “How so?”

“Well,” she went on, raising her head so she could look the young man in the eye. “Take your name for example. It means brave, strong, a powerful warrior. And you’d have to be, to do what you do.” When he raised an eyebrow questioningly at her statement she added, “You know, the hocus pocus stuff.”

The Whitelighter laughed. “Well, that’s one way of putting it.” He leaned in and nudged her with his shoulder. “And what about you? If I’m not mistaken, Cassandra was a Greek Goddess.”

“Daughter King Priam and Queen Hecuba of Troy, and blessed with the gift of prophecy,” Cassie explained.

“Impressive.”

“Nah,” she replied. “Old hat for a history major. And I’ve always had an interest in the origin of names.” She thought for a moment before speaking. “In my case, though, my name hardly describes me. I’m not exactly a goddess and I don’t have the gift of prophecy.”

“Oh, you never know. There’s always a chance that could develop,” Wyatt told her as he looked out across the Quad, squinting his eyes from the light of the sun. After a few moments of silence he spoke again. “That is, if you’re willing to see where magic leads you.”

Cassie sighed. “Look, Wyatt--”

“Wait. Let me say this first,” he interrupted her. “Believe it or not, I understand your doubts and hesitation.” When she opened her mouth to protest he held up a hand to silence her. “No, really, I do. I know I grew up with magic and am more comfortable with it and all, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what it’s like to be faced with a responsibility you’re not sure you can handle, and wonder if it was really meant for you.” He reached out and took her hand in his. “I’ll be here for you, whatever you decide. If you want to go back to being powerless, we can do that. I can bind your powers like your mother did. Or, if you decide you want to see what magic has to offer, help make the world a safer place and vanquish some demons in the process, I’m here to guide and protect you. And truthfully, I can’t say I mind kicking some demon ass.” A small laugh escaped her lips at his last statement, and he smiled. “Just know that whatever you decide, you’re not alone.”

Cassie looked down at their joined hands before nodding her head. “Thanks,” she whispered.

Wyatt stormed into the Manor, slamming the front door behind him. “Damnit!” he exclaimed, disgusted and frustrated with his failure to get through to his charge. Introducing magic to her had been easier than he anticipated, thanks to the power broker demon. She had helped him and Chris vanquish the demon, but had not reacted well to all that had transpired in the attic.

He continued to storm through the Manor, making his way through the conservatory and out the French doors to the patio. He paced the length of the cobblestone area and back, reviewing recent events in an effort to blow of some steam. Cassie had stepped up to the plate and she hit a homerun her first at bat, vanquishing the demon. But instead of that giving her an incentive to continue, she wanted to quit 'team good.' He let out a frustrated growl, remembering her reaction when he tried to check up on her. He did not take kindly to having the door shut in his face either. He flopped down onto a nearby lounge chair in dramatic fashion, arms and legs spread eagle. “This is useless,” he said aloud.

“Since when did you become such a defeatist?”

Wyatt opened his eyes at the sound of his father’s voice. He raised himself into a sitting position. “Hey, Dad,” he greeted the older man.

“I heard you slam the door before. What’s going on?” he asked as he sat down on the chair next to his son, his voice filled with concern and worry. Wyatt had his mother temper; that was no surprise. But it was unnerving to see him laying there, looking defeated and vulnerable. Just like his mother, he was a fighter. He didn’t know the meaning of the word defeat. Or so Leo had thought.

“It’s my charge,” the young man said, feeling a bit ashamed and unable to meet his father’s gaze. His father had been so proud when he first heard the call from the Elders, but so far he was falling flat on his face in his first attempt at being a Whitelighter.

“A little reluctant to go demon hunting?” Leo asked, an all-knowing smile forming on his aging but still handsome features.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Wyatt responded. “And the thing is, I can’t say I blame her. She’s lost both of her parents, so I understand why she’s not keen on putting herself in harm’s way.” He ran his fingers through his hair, and gave a small tug out of frustration. “But she won’t even listen to me. What do I do?”

“First, you stop feeling sorry for yourself,” Leo instructed, his voice stern. When his son’s eyes widened with surprise at this statement, he continued, knowing he had his undivided attention. “You’re not the first Whitelighter to be assigned to a stubborn witch and doubt himself, and you won’t be the last. The pity party is helping no one.”

“But, I--” Wyatt started to defend himself.

Leo held up a hand to silence his eldest. “No, you asked, so let me continue,” he interrupted. “It’s a common mistake to forget that your charge has a choice in all this. Yes, Wyatt,” he said, seeing the expression on his son’s face, “a choice. I know it seems hard to believe but these are choices this whole family has made. I chose to become a Whiteligher, and I chose to fall from grace. Aunt Paige chose to accept her powers and reconstitute the Charmed Ones. Your mother, Aunt Paige and Aunt Phoebe chose to continue the fight, even after they defeated the Source and were offered the opportunity to live life as mortals. And you and Chris choose to continue on that path and follow in their footsteps. Right now your charge is faced with the same decision, and deserves the time, space and respect to make it in her own time, just like you choose to leave Excalibur in the stone in the attic.”

Wyatt’s head had been lowered as he stared as his sneakers, letting his father’s words sink in, but his head snapped up at that last statement. “What are you talking about? Excalibur has nothing to do with this.”

“Doesn’t it?” Leo asked, an eyebrow raised, indicating he questioned his son’s denial. “It’s sitting in the attic, waiting for you, whenever you feel ready to take on the responsibility, and your mother and I have never forced the issue on you. We accept your choice not to use it at this time -- or ever, if that’s the case. The same goes for your charge; you can’t force her or allow her to feel like she’s being forced to accept this. She has the right to choose to not be a witch.”

Wyatt nodded, understanding where his father was coming from. He had grown up with magic his whole life, and couldn’t imagine not having it. But he did understand what it was like to be faced with a responsibility you weren’t sure you were ready for, or even wanted for that matter. And that was his bond with his charge. Hopefully she would allow him to get that point across. “And what if she chooses not to be a witch? Demons will still come after her.”

“Will they?”

“Yeah, unless I bind her powers . . . Wait, I can’t do that, can I? Bind her powers?” He felt safe in thinking that was not the reason the Elders assigned this young woman to him, and they would be less than thrilled if that was the end result.

“You’re a Whitelighter, Wyatt, and your job, first and foremost, is to guide and protect. And because you’re my son, I know you’ll do whatever you feel is necessary to accomplish that. Why don’t you think on that?” Leo said. He patted his son on the knee before standing and returning to the Manor.

Wyatt leaned back into the lounge chair, his father’s words running through his mind. For days he had wondered how he would approach his charge and introduce magic, seeing himself as a wealth of knowledge since he had grown up around it. He had envisioned more of a teacher-student relationship, than one where they would be equals. But the more he thought about it, he realized his father was right. He all came down to choices, and perhaps he had more in common with his charge than he originally thought.

Wyatt Halliwell stood in the hallway, hands in oven mitts, holding a casserole and staring at the door to Cassandra Cole’s apartment. He was trying to work up the nerve to knock on her door. He had practiced what he was going to say to her in the car, but now that he had arrived at his destination, he was having second thoughts on his tactics. Should he try to trick her into using her power? Or should he just come right out with it and say she’s witch? He sighed at his indecision, and ultimately decided to go with gut, and say whatever felt best at the moment.

He balanced the warm dish on one arm, and knocked on the door with the free one. “Coming!” he heard from within the condo. A moment later the door swung open. Standing in front of him was a woman who appeared to be a few years older than his mother. Her hair, streaked with gray, was pulled back into a severe bun. Her cheeks were flushed, but the expression on her face was stern. “May I help you?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, his voice cracking with nerves. He cleared his throat and offered the older woman a smile. “My name is Wyatt Halliwell, and I’d like to see Cassie.”

The woman gave him a once over. “Is she expecting you?”

“No, no, she’s not. She’s in my brother’s physics class. But my family saw her mother’s obituary in the paper today and sends their condolences. My mother baked a casserole,” he said, holding out the dish to her.

The woman thought it over, and for a minute the young Whitelighter feared she wouldn’t let him in. But after a moment she called over her shoulder, “Cassie! You got company!” She made a sweeping gesture with her hand, inviting him into the apartment. “There’s a Halliwell here to see you,” she said, closing the door. “Make yourself at home,” she said to the young man before heading towards the kitchen.

Wyatt looked around the condo’s living room while waiting for his charge to appear. It was pretty standard: beige walls, brown couch and arm chair, coffee table and ceiling fan overhead. However, the wall behind the TV caught his eye, and he took a few steps closer to get a better look. Numerous pictures hung on the wall. They varied in size, some hung horizontally and others vertically, but the frames were all the same shade of red. Upon further inspection, he realized they all centered around a baseball team: the Boston Red Sox.

“My parents met at Fenway.” Wyatt turned around at the sound of another voice in the room, and found Cassie standing behind him. She was still in her black dress from the funeral, but shoes were absent from her stocking feet. She took a few steps forward and pointed to an 8x10 photo in the center. It was of a man and woman he assumed to be Cassie’s parents. Their smiles were wide and their eyes were shining, matching ball caps on their heads. “This was taken on the first anniversary of the day they met.” She pointed to another photo. “And this was my first ball game.” The same couple was in the photo, but this time there was a baby in a Red Sox onesie sitting on the man’s knee. Cassie stared at the photo for a moment, sighed, and then turned to Wyatt. “Thanks for stopping by. Although, I have to admit, when my aunt said a Halliwell was here, I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Chris wanted to come, but he had class.” The lie rolled right off his tongue. “We both went to the service, though. It was nice.” He held out the casserole to her. “My mom made this for you. She figured you’d need something to eat.”

Cassie eyed the dish, and her eyes began to fill with tears. She sniffled. “Tell her thank you for me,” she said. “You must be tired of holding it. Follow me,” she instructed, leading the way into the kitchen. She set the oven to warm and opened it.

Wyatt slid the dish in and took off the oven mitts as Cassie closed the door. “It’s one of her best,” he told her. “It actually tastes better the next day.”

“I’ll make note of that, and I appreciate the gesture,” she told him. “I can’t tell you the last time I had a home-cooked meal. The last few months I’ve been eating either campus or hospital food, neither of which is award-winning.”

“Well, you’re welcome to eat at my house,” Wyatt offered. “My mom’s a chef, so there’s always plenty to go around.” When the young woman didn’t respond he looked down at his sneakers. After a moment he spoke. “How are you holding up?” he asked softly.

“The last few days have been rough,” she replied. She licked her lips nervously. “They’ve been a bit of blur, too, with funeral arrangements and everything.” She sighed, shaking her head slightly as if to clear her mind of the memories of the past few days. “I never would have gotten through it without Aunt Abigail. I just wish she didn’t have to go back to Salem tomorrow, but she could only get a few days off from work.”

“Salem?”

“Massachusetts,” Cassie explained.

“Oh.” She was a witch with family in Salem, Massachusetts. Go figure. “What about your . . . ” Wyatt started to ask.

“My dad?” Cassie finished his question for him. “He died when I was five. It’s just me now,” she said. She smiled sadly. “My father’s parents died before I was born. Aunt Abigail is the only one left from that side, and she never married or had kids. My mom was an only child, and her parents died a few years ago. It’s like my family is going extinct or something.” The young woman turned and walked over to sit down on the couch. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I don’t mean to be such a downer and lousy host.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Wyatt said, taking a seat next to her. “I didn’t come for a party. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay, and tell you my family is thinking of you.”

“I appreciate it.” She dropped her head into her hands, breathing deeply. She lifted her head to look at her guest and ran her fingers through her hair. “I still can’t believe she’s gone,” she whispered.

“I’m so sorry,” Wyatt said. He leaned in and wrapped his arms around his charge. He felt her body stiffen at the contact, but a moment later it relaxed and she returned the embrace. He squeezed her gently.

“Thanks,” Cassie whispered. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. “I promise under different circumstances I’m better comp--. What on Earth?” Her jaw dropped in shock as she pulled away from the young man, not believing her eyes.

“What is it?” Wyatt asked, concerned by the expression on his charge’s face. She pointed over his shoulder and turned in his seat to see what she was referring to. A demon had shimmered into the living room. His clothing was singed and tattered around the edges, and his smile was sinister. “Stay back,” he ordered. He stood up, deliberately placing himself between his charge and the demon.

“No, I thought I’d ask it to join us for tea,” Cassie deadpanned.

The demon raised its hand but before it could fire the first shot, Wyatt sent it flying into the wall with a wave of his hand. He looked over his shoulder to check on his charge, but she had ignored his previous order and was making a run for it. “Cassie, no!” he shouted.

The demon, spying his target out in the open, raised a hand. He threw an energy ball towards the young woman.

“Watch out!” Wyatt warned Cassie. He held up his hands, ready to either redirect or freeze the energy ball, but found he didn’t have to.

When she saw the energy ball heading her way, Cassie shrieked. She squeezed her eyes shut and held up her hands to block her face, a translucent blue shield emitted from her hands. The energy ball bounced off it, and headed straight for the demon. It shimmered out before the energy ball could make contact though, and instead it hit the wall, leaving a scorch mark.

“Whoa,” Wyatt uttered under his breath. When the Elders said Cassie would have a formidable power, they weren’t kidding.

Silence filled the room. Suspecting it might be safe, she slowly opened her eyes and lowered her hands. She looked around the room. She and Wyatt were alone again. “What the Hell was that?” she asked, her voice filled with disbelief. “What’s going on?”

“I’m a witch, Cassie, and so are you.”

“How was the funeral?” Piper asked her sons as they entered the kitchen. She pulled a casserole out from the oven, and set it on top of the stove to cool off. She turned around to face her sons, taking off her oven mitts.

“It was a hum-dinger. We closed the place,” Wyatt replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He took off his jacket, draped it on the back of a chair, and made a beeline for the fridge.

“Wyatt!” Piper scolded. Sure, her son had his moments, all teenagers do. But generally he was an even-natured boy; sarcasm and brooding was more Chris’s style. She was more than surprised by her eldest son’s response to her question.

“I’m sorry,” Wyatt apologized, removing a glass from the cabinet and pouring himself a glass of iced tea. “It’s just…it was more difficult than I anticipated.” He drummed his fingers against the glass. He looked down at its contents, but suddenly found himself no longer thirsty. “I’m gonna change before I head over to Cassie’s,” he said, leaving the glass on the counter and leaving the room.

Piper turned to her younger son, who had sat himself down at the kitchen table. “What’s with your brother? Did something happen?” She crossed the room and took up the seat next to him.

“Nothing out of the ordinary for a funeral,” was the reply. The young man played with the keys to the car he and Wyatt shared, unable to look at his mother.

Piper reached out and placed a hand over her son’s. “Chris, look at me.” The young man slowly raised his head and directed his gaze at his mother. “What happened?” she repeated the question, her tone soft and comforting.

“It’s nothing. We just got to talking, Wyatt and I, about . . . things.”

“Things? What kind of things?”

“Just . . . if we were in Cassie’s situation.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “You know, alone and suddenly with powers and expected to fight evil and everything.”

“Oh, Chris, honey.” Piper tilted her head to one side and studied her son. She wouldn’t deny that was one of her fears, being a victim of what seemed to be the Warren legacy and leaving her children behind to grow up without a mother. And it might have happened, too, had a 22-year-old man from the future not twisted the hands of fate. “I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I worried about the same thing from time to time.” Her thumb moved in concentric circles in an effort to console her son. “But I know something you don’t. Can I tell you a secret?”

Chris shrugged his shoulders. “Sure.”

Piper leaned forward and whispered in her son’s ear, “I’ve been to the future.”

With these words Chris leaned back, his eyes widened in surprise. “You can’t just go to the future.”

The older woman smiled. “Sometimes you can. And I did. Twice, in fact. And I saw myself past the ripe old age of 80, playing Scrabble with your father, and plenty of grandkids. So you don’t need to worry so much.”

Chris smiled, mentally picturing the scene his mother described. “Wyatt had kids, huh?”

“Yup.” Piper smiled, her son relaxing at her revelation. “And you, too.”

In spite of himself the young man chuckled. “I have trouble picturing Wyatt with kids.”

“You? What about me?” His mother joined in the laughter. “And I don’t want to picture either one of you with kids until you’ve both graduated, got good jobs and are married.”

“What’s so funny?” Wyatt asked, re-entering the kitchen.

“Nothing,” Chris and Piper replied, composing themselves and trying to subside their giggles.

“Right, nothing,” Wyatt repeated, doubtful, but not in a mood to pry any further information out them. He walked over to the stove where casserole was cooling and took a whiff. “Smells good, Mom,” he complimented.

“High praise coming from someone who thinks frozen pizza is gourmet cuisine,” Piper responded, grinning from ear to ear.

“It beats the food on campus,” Wyatt replied, smiling in spite of himself and his previous mood. He crossed the room and pulled a roll of aluminum foil out from a drawer. “Thanks for making this, Mom,” he said, covering the casserole with a sheet of foil.

“Oh, don’t mention it, sweetie. Just be sure to send our condolences to your friend,” she said.

“Yeah, no problem,” Wyatt said. He slipped oven mitts on his hands and started to walk out of the kitchen. Halfway to the door he stopped then turned around. He walked towards the kitchen table, set the casserole on it, then leaned over to hug his mother. “I love you, Mom.”

Piper smiled and returned the hug. “I love you, too, Wyatt.” She pulled back from her son and brushed a few rampant strands of hair from his forehead. “Now go take care of your charge.”

“Okay,” the young man said, returning the smile. He picked up the casserole and started to walk out of the kitchen. “Oh, and I get the car, Chris,” he said, his retreating form orbing the keys to his pocket. Then he telekinetically opened the back door and left the Manor.

It's for a completely different story, but it's a scene nevertheless!

Barefoot and dressed in yoga pants and a tank top, Cassandra Cole puttered around the kitchen humming to herself. She pulled a filter from the cabinet and scooped out coffee grounds out of a canister to make a pot of her favorite brew, and smiled to herself. All injuries and wounds had healed from when she was witch-napped; life had been demon-light, allowing her to catch up with some old friends; and she had even managed to scrape a B- in physics. Life was good.

“Mmm . . . coffee. That smells delicious.”

Cassie turned around to see Wyatt Halliwell standing in the entryway to the kitchen. He was barefoot, clad only in a pair of jeans and a relaxed smile. He ran a hand through his damp, blonde locks.

“See? I’m not totally useless in kitchen,” Cassie said, removing two mugs from the dish drain and handing one to her Whitelighter.

“I never said you were useless in the kitchen,” Wyatt replied, taking the mug from her. “Heck, you’re the third-best potion maker I know.” He completed his compliment with a toothy grin.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Cassie laughed.

“I hope you don’t mind I showered,” Wyatt said, pulling out a chair for himself. “And thanks for letting me crash here last night. Chris was pretty insistent about having the apartment to himself, and I really didn’t want to hang at the Manor,” he explained.

“Sure, it’s not a problem,” Cassie replied, removing the hot pot from the coffee maker and filling Wyatt’s mug. “To be honest, it was nice to have some company.” She returned the pot to the maker and removed the milk from the fridge, offering it to her guest. “It’s not that I mind some downtime from demon hunting, it’s just,” she pulled out a chair and sat down across from Wyatt, “for such a small condo it can feel so big and lonely sometimes.”

“You know you’re always welcome at la casa de Halliwell,” Wyatt offered, spooning some sugar into his steaming mug. “I can’t promise it’ll be quiet, but it definitely won’t be lonely.”

“Thanks. One day I just might take you up on that,” Cassie replied, taking a sip from her own mug. “Can I get you anything to eat?” she asked, rising from the table and crossing over to the fridge. “I make a great omelet,” she offered.

She was reaching into the fridge to retrieve the eggs when Wyatt shouted “Demon!” She turned around to see him fully shimmered in, dressed in black, a cool smile on his face and standing with confidence. In a flash Wyatt was at Cassie’s side. He threw himself on top of her, knocking her to the ground as the demon sent what looked similar to a lightning bolt at the duo. “Stay down!” he barked.

Wyatt took an offensive stance as the demon sent another bolt. Cassie threw up her hands, forming a protective shield in front of her and her Whitelighter. The bolt bounced off it and split in three. One bolt hit the wall just behind where Wyatt had been sitting, leaving a scorch mark. The second hit the coffee pot, shattering it. And the third hit the demon in the arm. He cried out in pain and disappeared from the kitchen.

“Are you okay, Cass?” Wyatt asked, offering her a hand to help her up off the floor.

“I think so. You?”

“Yeah, thanks to you,” he replied, surveying the damage around the room. “Looks like the kitchen didn’t fare as well, though,” he commented.

“Aww, man!” Cassie whined. She bent over, picking up a shard of glass from the broken pot. “That’s the third one this month!” She sighed and walked over to the sink. She opened the cabinet underneath and pulled out a dustpan and brush. “I guess I should just suck it up, and invest the money in a stainless steel coffee pot. Ever see a demon like that before?” she asked, on her hands and knees, carefully picking up the larger pieces of glass.

“Nope, I’ve never seen anything like it,” Wyatt replied, bringing the garbage can to where Cassie was working. “What was with that power?” he asked, shaking his head in wonder.

“I don’t know, but whatever it was, the demon got hit by it.” Cassie grabbed a roll of paper towels off the counter to soak up the spilled coffee. “Do you think it was vanquished?”

“No, I think it’s just wounded,” Wyatt replied, sweeping up the stray shards of glass with the brush and dustpan.

“Which means?” Cassie asked, dropping the soaked towels into the garbage.

“It’ll be back.”

“Aunt Abigail, how well did you know my mother?” Cassie asked the older woman. Since Catherine Cole had passed away, her sister-in-law had been staying at the condo. She had flown in from the east coast to spend time and comfort the new orphan. The two were cleaning up from dinner when Cassie asked her question.

“As well as anybody,” Abigail responded, looking at her niece questioningly. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know,” Cassie replied, picking the folded dishtowel up off the counter and shaking it out. She removed a dinner plate from dish drain and began to dry it. “I just wonder . . . if there was anything I didn’t know about her. Anything she didn’t get to tell me. These last few months, everything we discussed was medical. I’m afraid that’ll be all I remember of her, her illness, instead of the person she was.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” Abigail assured her, putting an arm around her niece and giving her shoulder a comforting squeeze. “All you have to do is look in the mirror to know what kind of person your mother was. She raised you to be strong, thoughtful, smart and caring, just like she was.” The older woman tilted her head to the side, deep in thought. Slowly, a smile appeared on her face. “Of course, there is one other little thing.”

“Oh?” Cassie prompted, trying her hardest to sound nonchalant.

“You must like to suffer, to become a Red Sox fan like your parents were,” Abigail said, chuckling. She wasn’t much of a baseball, but her brother and sister-in-law were. In fact, they met at a game. And year after year, they spent October lamenting another loss, pinning their hopes on ‘next year.’ “It’s like some form of cruel punishment, to root for them and not see them win in your lifetime.”

“Hey!” Cassie said in mock indignation. “They won in 2004,” she defended her team.

“Yeah, and they haven’t been to a World Series since. Besides, that hardly counts, dear. You were an infant.”

“Details, details,” Cassie said, smiling her first genuine smile since her mother passed away.

A knock at the door interrupted their banter. “I’ll get it,” Aunt Abigail offered, heading for the door. “Who is it?” she asked.

“It’s Wyatt. Is Cassie there?”

“I got it Aunt Abigail,” Cassie said, before the older woman could open the door. She dropped the dishtowel and headed for the door. “Why don’t you go finish packing?” she suggested, grabbing a hold of the doorknob.

Abigail gave her niece the once-over. Something was definitely up. Against her better judgment she decided to let the young woman handle it. She nodded, then retreated to her sister-in-law’s bedroom to pack her suitcase.

When Cassie was sure her aunt was out of earshot, she opened the door. “What do you want?” she asked, not even trying to hide the disdain in her voice.

Wyatt’s jaw dropped in shock. This was not the reaction he was expecting. Sure, he figured she’d be upset from the vanquish and Chris getting injured. But he didn’t figure some of her anger and reluctance would be directed at him. “I just wanted to check up on you, make sure you were okay.”

“Well, there haven’t been any other attacks, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Actually, it’s not.” When she didn’t make a move to open the door further or invite him in he asked, “May I come in?”

“No, I’d rather you didn’t. I think one visit from you is about all I can handle.” She leaned against the door jab, arms crossed, letting her caller know he would not be crossing the threshold told, or maybe ever again.

Wyatt sighed. “Look, Cassie--“

“No, save it,” she instructed, holding up a hand to interrupt him. “I did what I had to do; the demon is gone and I let you protect me. But it’s over, and so is all of this witch nonsense. In case you haven’t noticed, I buried my mother today, and now you want me to do something that almost landed me right next to her. And I just can’t. You and your brother may get some sort of kick out it, but it’s not for me. So why don’t you guide and protect someone else?”

And with those words Cassie closed the door, shutting Wyatt Halliwell out of her condo, and hopefully out of her life as well.

Chris removed the loaf of bread from the breadbox on the counter and turned to face the center island, littered with deli meats and fixins’. He was making a sandwich to distract him from his chemistry notes when blue and white orbs appeared across from him. “Hey, Wyatt,” he said, without looking up from the slice of bread he was spreading mayo on.

His brother responded with “We got company.”

At this, Chris immediately looked up. “Cassie?” he asked, surprised. By his brother’s tone, he was expecting a demon to shimmer in.

“Whoa,” she said softly. She felt dizzy, like her insides were churning, and she was suddenly finding it terribly difficult to keep her balance.

“Here you go,” Wyatt said, pulling out a kitchen chair and helping her sit down. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” she replied, her complexion a pale shade of green.

Chris smiled and filled a glass with tap water. “That’s a typical reaction, when someone orbs for the first time,” he explained, kneeling down and handing her the glass. “Here. This should help.”

Cassie took the glass from him, grateful, and began to drink. After a few sips and deep breaths, she started to get her bearings. It was then that Chris’s words sank in. “Wait. You know about this?” she asked, referring to Wyatt’s magic. The look on her study partner’s face was all the answer she needed. “Of course you do. And you . . . do you …” Her voice trailed off, not quite comfortable with the words ‘powers’ and ‘magic’ just yet.

“Yeah,” he replied, rising to a standing position. “It’s genetic,” he said, a smile playing on the corners of his mouth. There was an awkward pause, and after a few moments he decided to break the silence. “It’s a lot to take in, I know.”

“That’s the understatement of the year,” Cassie muttered under her breath.

Wyatt chuckled at his charge’s frankness. When she looked at him questioningly, not understanding what he found humorous about the situation, he stifled his giggles. “Look, Cassie,” he said, pulling out a chair for himself and sitting across from her. “I can only imagine how overwhelmed you’re feeling, trying to sort through it all.” He took one of her hands in his and gave it a comforting squeeze. “But trust me when I tell you it’s very real.” He took a deep breath and licked his lips before continuing. “I’m not asking anything of you. You don’t have to use your power or anything. But a demon is after you, and that’s serious. So, please, let me protect you.”

The young woman looked at the man sitting across from her, his eyes pleading with her to agree. She took a moment to think it over. The truth was, if she hadn’t seen this thing, this demon, with her own two eyes, she would have had the men in the white coats come for Wyatt. But she had seen it. And as crazy as it was, it was real. She hated to think what would’ve happened if she’d been alone when the creature appeared, and as long as it was still roaming out there, she wasn’t safe. That much she knew. Finally, she nodded her head, letting Wyatt know she accepted his offer of protection.

“Thank you,” Wyatt said, offering his charge a small smile. “You made the right choice.”

“The way I see it, I didn’t have much of one,” Cassie said. She leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms in front of her chest. Just because she agreed to hang around didn’t mean she’d have to like it.

“She’s got a point there,” Chris chimed in. He walked back around the center island, and resumed his sandwich making. “Any idea what kind of demon we’re dealing with here?” he asked his brother.

“Well, I’d like to look in the Book to be sure, but it looked like a demonic power broker to me,” Wyatt said, rising from his seat at the table and beginning to pace the length of the kitchen.

“A demonic power broker? Are you sure? Power brokers typically go after other demons. What would he want with Cassie?” Chris asked, abandoning his sandwich again as concern for his friend took over.

“I can’t be sure of anything until I check the Book,” Wyatt replied. “But my best guess would be he wants Cassie’s power.”

“What is it?” Chris asked, directing this question towards the new witch. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it. Truth was, she had no idea how she stopped that ball of light the demon threw at her, much less what the name for it was.

“Deflection,” Wyatt answered for her.

Chris let out a low whistle. “Deflection. Whoa. That’s major.”

There was a moment’s silence while the brothers let this information sink in. Their silence unnerved the woman, and she mustered up the courage to speak. “Wait. I thought you said I was a witch,” she said, pointing at Wyatt. “If this demon is after me, doesn’t that mean . . . I’m a demon, too?” Her voice shook as she finished her sentence.

“No. Absolutely not,” Wyatt said, sitting back down again and taking her hands in his.

“But my power . . . “ Cassie started to say.

Wyatt immediately interrupted her. “It’s rare, that’s all. Not many witches have it. And it’s powerful. You can basically stop anything that’s thrown your way once it’s fully developed. If evil acquired your power, it would be unstoppable.”

“So the broker either wants the power for himself, or to sell it to the highest bidder,” Chris added, walking to stand next to where he brother was sitting. “But that in no way implies you’re evil. Nothing could be further from the truth.”

“How can you be so sure?” asked Cassie, her voice filled with doubt.

“Because evil doesn’t have guardian angels,” Wyatt replied, offering his charge a reassuring smile. When she gave a soft smile in return, he took it as a sign to continue. “Come on,” he said, standing up and pulling Cassie into a standing position as well. “We’ve got a demon to vanquish.”

The trio moved through the house, Wyatt leading the way, until they reached the attic. It was messy as always, despite Piper’s best attempts to keep it neat and clean. The boys, on the other hand, were more lax with where potion bottles and ingredients were discarded. The way they saw it, any efforts to keep the attic clean were futile, since the constant vanquishes that took place there seemed to keep it in shambles.

“Okay,” Wyat said, taking charge. “The first thing I want to do is check the book, make sure that really was a demonic power broker. Chris, we’ll probably need a potion or two.”

“Got it,” Chris said, walking over to the table they had a cauldron set up on, browsing through the herbs left there.

“Come here, Cassie,” Wyatt said, extending a hand and offering the young witch a place beside him in front of the podium. When she was next to him, he opened the Book of Shadows and began to flip through its pages. “This is the Book of Shadows. It’s our family’s book of spells and potions. Pretty much every magical being our family has met is in here. Do you remember what the demon looked liked?” he asked. Cassie nodded her head. “Good. Then let look through the book and see if we can identify him.”

The twosome scanned the book for several minutes before Cassie pointed to one of the illustrations, shouting “Stop! That’s him.”

“So what are we up against?” Chris asked, setting aside some herbs that could be used in your everyday garden-variety vanquishing potion.

“A power broker, just like I thought,” Wyatt replied, the Book of Shadows opened to the entry on the demon.

“I think I’ll go with two potions, then,” Chris said. “One to momentarily stop the demon from using any powers he’s acquired, which should give us enough time to throw the vanquishing potion.”

“Chemistry major, huh?” Cassie said, walking around to stand next to Chris, arms crossed, an eyebrow raised, and her stance guarded.

“It always did come easy to me,” he said, offering the skeptical girl a smile. It waned, though, when she didn’t smile in return. “I guess I take after Mom,” he surmised.

“Hmm.” Cassie turned to the older Halliwell. “And what about you?”

“I like to think I march to the beat of my own drummer,” Wyatt said thoughtfully.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” the young witch asked, her tone a mixture of impatience and confusion.

“It means he has a lot of firepower, and is mostly known for flying by the seat of his pants,” Chris interjected, unable to keep a slight amount of bitterness out of his voice.

Cassie exhaled loudly and dropped her head to stare at the floor. This was all too much to take in. What was she doing here? How could she be a witch? And how could her mother have not told her? It was so overwhelming, like a wave crashing down, almost pulling her under. She quickly walked over to the old Victorian couch and sat down, putting her head between her knees.

“Are you okay?” Wyatt asked. He quickly crossed the attic and sat down next to her, rubbing her back in soothing circles.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” she replied, returning to an upright position. She closed her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair. She had so many questions to ask and she didn’t know where to start. Finally she decided to go with the one that had been weighing on her mind since the demon appeared in her living room. “Have long have you known? About me, that is.”

“That you’re a witch?” Wyatt asked. When Cassie nodded her head he continued. “Since this morning. I’ve known for a few days that a witch would be coming into her powers, but I didn’t know it was you until this morning.”

“Did you know that demon was going to attack? Is that why you showed up at my condo with a casserole?”

“No, to both questions.” The young Whitelighter took a moment to collect his thoughts before explaining his actions. “The Halliwells . . . “ he sighed. “Let me put it this way, we know what it’s like to lose family members, especially my mom. We just wanted to be there for you, make sure you were okay. It was a coincidence that I was there when the demon appeared, although it’s lucky that I was.”

“How so? He could’ve had my powers. I don’t want them,” Cassie said defiantly.

“The thing is, he’d have to kill you in order to get them,” Wyatt explained.

“Oh,” Cassie said, looking at her lap. “So I’m going to be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life now? Running from demons?”

“Hey,” Wyatt said, placing his fingers under his charge’s chin, raising her head so he could look her in the eye. “There is so much more to being a witch. It’s a gift. Your powers are a gift, passed down from your mother, and probably for generations. It’s a legacy you’ve been asked to continue, to protect the innocent from evil.”

“And while I’m protecting the innocent, who is protecting me?”

“That’s where I come in,” Wyatt replied. “As your Whitelighter, I’m here to guide, protect and heal you.”

“Heal me?” Cassie’s voice was filled with surprise.

“Yes, but only magical injuries,” he quickly added. “I can’t cure colds or anything like that.”

“I see.” Cassie stood up and began to pace the attic. This was all too much. “How much longer do I have to hide out here?”

“Until the demon comes,” Chris answered, adding a final ingredient to the vanquishing potion. A plume of smoke rose from the cauldron. “Well, the vanquish potion is done,” he announced. He used a turkey baster to fill a vial with his concoction. “I just need another minute and the other potion will be done, too.” He walked up to where his friend was pacing, and placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her. “Here,” he said, handing her the vial.

“What’s this for?” she asked, looking at the vial in her hand.

“After I throw the binding potion at the demon, you throw this one. He’ll blow up, and we’ll be free to continue with our day. I got chem. exam to study for,” he said, filling up the last vial with the other potion.

“You can do this, Cassie,” Wyatt said, moving to stand behind her and placing a hand on her shoulder.

She looked down at the vial in her hand again. “If you’re sure . . .”

“All set,” Chris said, holding up the filled vial. “Now all we need--“

But the young man never got to finish that sentence. The power broker demon shimmered in at that exact moment, and when he saw the vial in the young man’s hand, he threw an energy ball at him. Upon impact, Chris flew up into the air and across the room, the potion vial smashing onto the floor.

“No!” Wyatt shouted. He looked at the table, a plume of smoke still rising from his brother’s binding potion. With a wave of his arm, the entire cauldron flew at the demon, dumping the entire contents on him. “Now, Cassie!”

With fear in her eyes the young woman looked at her friend, lying on the floor unconscious. She turned to face the demon, the resolve set in her face. She gritted her teeth and threw the potion. Upon impact, the demon erupted into flames, leaving a scorch mark on the floor. “Chris!” Cassie shouted, running over to him when it was over. She placed two fingers on his neck. “He has a pulse.”

Wyatt was immediately at his brother’s side. He placed his hands over him and a soft, yellow glow appeared. After a few minutes, the glow disappeared and Chris’s eyes slowly opened. “How do you feel?” Wyatt asked.

“Ugh. Like I’ve been hit with an energy ball,” Chris replied, struggling to sit up. Cassie helped him, and at her touch he asked her, “Did we get the demon?”

“Yeah,” Wyatt replied, studying his brother to make sure he was, in fact, all right. “We got him.”

“Congratulations on your first vanquish,” Chris said to Cassie, offering her a small smile.

“You did good,” Wyatt added.

“Yeah, well, then how come I don’t feel so good?” she asked. And before either boy could respond, she stood up and ran out of the attic.

A tan, hybrid SUV traveled the narrow roads of the cemetery. It pulled up behind a small line of cars parked behind hearse. Wyatt cut the engine and turned to his passenger. “Thanks for coming with me,” he said.

“Sure, don’t mention it.” Chris looked out the passenger side window at the small group of people gathering at the coffin several feet away. He swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat. “God, I can’t believe Cassie’s mother died. I can’t even begin to imagine…if something happened to Mom and Dad…” His voice trailed off.

“Chris, don’t even go there,” the older brother commanded. His family seemed to stare death in the face on a near-daily basis. They couldn’t afford to think about losing a family member. If they did, it would give evil the upper hand in battle.

“I know. Sorry.” The young man looked away from the graveside gathering and directed his attention toward his brother. “You know, I have to admit, I was surprised when you asked me to come with you,” he said as they exited the car. He quickly ran his hands over his black suit, smoothing out any wrinkles that may have formed during the car ride over. “Funerals aren’t exactly your thing.”

“Whose thing are they?” Wyatt deadpanned as the boys made their way towards the gravesite.

“You know what I mean,” Chris said, as they found a spot off to the side and set back a bit, to prevent them from infringing on the family’s grief.

“Yeah, I do.” Wyatt leaned closer to his brother and whispered in his ear, “The thing is, there’s more to it than supporting your friend.”

“Oh?” Chris’s head snapped to look at his brother, his interest piqued. “Care to tell me about it?” He raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

The eldest Halliwell thought for a moment. “I don’t know if I can,” he said, wondering when the Whitelighter-charge confidentiality agreement went into effect.

“Since when can’t you tell me something?” the younger brother asked, looking hurt.

“Looks like they’re about to start,” Wyatt said, evading the question.

“Dear Lord,” the priest said once everyone had gathered around the gravesite. “We gather here to honor our beloved sister, Catherine…”

“Not a lot of people here, huh?” Chris commented in a hushed voice, surveying the surroundings. Cassie sat in the front row, a woman who looked to be about their mother’s age sitting next to her, hand in hand. A few people sat in chairs behind them, but just as many folding chairs that had been set up were empty.

“It’s a funeral, Chris, not a party.”

“I know that. I just mean . . . it looks like Cassie doesn’t have a lot of family.”

Wyatt’s eyes scanned the crowd, and he silently agreed with his brother’s assessment. “I don’t know if that’ll make this easier or harder,” he said softly, mostly to himself, but the youngest Halliwell couldn’t help overhearing.

“You’re her Whitelighter, aren’t you?” Chris asked, although it was more of a statement than a question.

“Yeah,” Wyatt said, relieved to have it out in the open and finally have someone other than two vague Elders to talk about it with. “The Elders just told me today.”

“Any idea what her power is, or how you’re going to tell her?”

“No and no.”

“Well, you better figure out something quick,” Chris warned his brother. “If evil doesn’t steal her powers, you’ve still got the 24-hour free will window to contend with.”

“Don’t remind me,” Wyatt huffed. He didn’t need his brother to remind him of what was at stake, of what the risks were. The knots in his shoulders were all the reminder he needed. “You got any ideas on how I can approach her?” he asked, hoping his brother could give him some insight to the young woman he was sent to guide and protect.

“Mom’s baking a casserole. Take it to her later.” The corners of Chris’s mouth turned upwards. “I had a sneaking suspicion when you said you wanted to come to the funeral,” he explained, seeing the expression on his brother’s face.

“Thanks.” Wyatt breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully the offer of comfort food would get his foot in the door, both literally and metaphorically. “Any idea on how I’m supposed to tell her she’s a witch?”

“No, but if you’re lucky you won’t have to. She may start subconsciously using her power on her own.” One thing the boys learned when they were young was that their powers were tied to their emotions. Chris had to imagine Cassie was feeling a wide range of them right now, and there was a good chance one of them would trigger her power, whatever it was.

“I can only hope.” Wyatt said. It would be much easier to explain she was a witch if she had already used her powers. It may make her more likely to believe him, instead of tossing him out on his rear end. “I still think they assigned her to the wrong brother, though,” he said softly, watching as friends and family members one by one left a rose on the coffin.

Chris rolled his eyes. For someone with just about all the magically ability in the world, his brother didn’t seem to think too highly of himself unless he was blasting a demon to smithereens. “When are you going to learn to trust these things and go with it?”

“Trust? Trust?? Chris, how can you even suggest that?” Wyatt did his best to keep his voice low while his emotions ran high. “How can we possibly trust a group of people who didn’t want us to be born?” The young man stared at his brother in disbelief. Could he really be that naive? That everything in their magical lives was as simple as trusting the Elders?

“No, of course not,” Chris sighed. “But you’re supposed to trust there’s a reason you’re her Whitelighter and I’m not. So just go with already.”

Wyatt smiled in spite of his confusion and inner panic. “Spoken like a true Whitelighter.”

“Wyatt…”

“Okay, okay,” the older brother said, resigning himself to the fact that this conversation was finished. The twosome stood in silence, watching the services conclude. As the patrons started to stand, Cassie looked over and saw them. She nodded, acknowledging their presence and thanking them all at once. The boys nodded in return. “You ever wonder what it would have been like, if Mom and the aunt bound our powers when we were kids?” Wyatt asked as the two turned and headed back towards the car.

“Some of us are still kids,” Chris said, trying to make light of the subject. When his brother didn’t jest in returned, he decided to be honest. “Yeah, I’ve thought about it from time to time. I can’t imagine just one day coming into my powers. Knowing everything that I know now, I would feel completely unprepared.” He paused. “She’s completely unprepared, Wyatt.”

“I know. And the thing is, so am I.”

Two days since he first heard the call from the Elders, Wyatt found himself orbing ‘Up There’ again. He had been thinking of his charge since his first meeting with the magical beings, wondering who she was and what she would be like. He would close his eyes and meditate, attempting to sense her. At one point during the day he did feel a wave of grief wash over him. Maybe he could be a Whitelighter after all.

He looked around and spied the two Elders he first met with walking towards him. He met them halfway. “So, do I get to know her name now?” he asked, assuming his charge was the reason he heard the ringing in his ear again during breakfast.

“Cassandra Cole,” Amos replied.

When neither Elder expanded on that, the young man rolled his eyes. He felt his temper starting to rise. Was every meeting going to be a game of 20 questions? “Care to elaborate at all on that?” Wyatt asked, less that satisfied with such a simple response.

“She’s a college student,” Samuel said, going against his better judgment and describing the new witch. “Her powers were bound as a child; she doesn’t remember ever having them. Her mother recently died, so…”

“So her powers are no longer bound,” Wyatt finished the Elder’s sentence. Despite his magical education and upbringing, this was a basic rule he was well aware of. His own mother’s powers had been bound, and she did not receive them until after her grandmother died. He realized this was done to protect the witches in question, but it left them so vulnerable when they finally came into their powers. The person who bound them was taking a great risk that the witch would be able to defend herself, and she undoubtedly would have to upon receiving her powers.

Amos nodded, letting the young Whitelighter know he was correct in his assessment, and happy to see he understood the seriousness of the situation. “Precisely. She’s new to the craft, plus she’s grieving, so this won’t be easy.”

“So, how do I do this?” Wyatt asked. At first it had seemed so simple: get assigned a charge, guide her as she learns the craft. But the reality was he had no idea how to go about doing that. His father had had a cover when he was a Whitelighter; he posed as a handyman. He, on the other hand, had college and an internship along with his Wiccan responsibilities. How was he supposed to introduce himself to this new witch? “Can you at least give me a jumping off point?”

“You have to assimilate yourself into her life. Earn her trust,” Amos instructed, patting the young man on the shoulder in an act of reassurance. He knew the young man would have doubts about himself, but he had to get over them quickly. He would be of no help to his charge if his confidence was shaky at best.

“And just how exactly do I go about that?” Wyatt asked, his patience wearing thin. Would it kill the Elders to give him a straight answer for once? He knew they knew the answers he was looking for. Why could they just tell him?

Amos folded his hands in front of him, a calm expression on his face. He had been an elder long before his father had been a Whitelighter, and try as he might, the young man before him would be unsuccessful in rattling his cage. “That is up to you to decide.”

Wyatt threw up his hands in disgust, his patience shot and the frustration of the situation overwhelming him. “Oh, sure, no problem,” he deadpanned. “I’ll just walk up to her and say ‘hey, sorry about your mom. But the good news is, you’re a witch. Unfortunately, it’s just a matter of time before demons attack you. But don’t worry! I’m your guardian angel.’ Yeah, that’ll go over like a lead balloon.” He let out an exasperated sigh and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Samuel rolled his eyes at the young man’s tantrum. This was the problem with Whitelighters who were witches as well. They had trouble with the bigger picture, had too many emotional ties, and forgot that their assignments were not about them but for the benefit of their charges. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic! You’re just like your mother.” One look from Wyatt alerted the Elder that that was not the right thing to say. Not aloud at least anyway, however true it may be. “It shouldn’t be too hard to approach her,” he continued, hoping to distract the Whitelighter from his earlier statement. “You already know her.”

“Excuse me?” Wyatt was taken aback at this piece of news. Since when did Whitelighters get assigned to their friends? He gently shook his head. It couldn’t be true.

“You met Friday night at your mother’s club.”

This information sank in, and realization dawned on Wyatt: Chris’s friend, Cassie. “Then perhaps you chose the wrong brother,” he said softly.

“It’s like I said the last time we met, Wyatt,” Amos said, hoping to get the young man to trust in his instincts, trust in this assignment. “Christopher has his own path, and this one is yours. Don’t fight it. See where it takes you.”

“Right, right. See where it takes me.” The young man closed his eyes, mulling over everything. His mother had warned him the Elders were known for their ‘cryptic crap,’ as she put it. And in her mind, she would think they were ‘up to no good’ with her son. And he’d be lying if he didn’t admit he agreed with her. But what else could he do? He couldn’t leave a new witch hanging out the open, fresh for the taking by demons. He sighed. “Any chance you know where it’ll take me?” This question was met with silence. “What am I saying? Of course you do. But you wouldn’t want to tell me, or anything. That would be too easy.”

“Some things, you just have to learn on your own,” Amos solemnly said.

“Right.” Wyatt looked down at his worn sneakers. He was afraid if he looked at the Elders he would not be able to keep his temper in check. After a few moments, when he was convinced he was somewhat calm, he looked up. “Well, if there’s nothing else I guess I’ll be off, trying to find a way to introduce my charge to magic.” He added the last phrase sarcastically. When his retort received no acknowledgement, he readied himself to orb out.

But before he could, Amos placed a hand on the young man’s arm. “Wyatt, just be patient with her. She’ll come around.”

“Thanks.” And without so much as another glance, Wyatt finally orbed out.

“Don’t you think you said too much?” Samuel asked, concerned the young man would not learn all he needed to in the right time so he could fully understand it.

“Are you kidding?” Amos asked in disbelief. “When you get down to it, we hardly told him anything at all.”

“Any luck finding the demon?” Chris asked, walking into the Halliwell attic. He had orbed to the house as soon as he received his brother’s phone call, but stopped off in the Manor’s kitchen to pick up some potion ingredients before meeting Wyatt and his charge. He placed the bottles of herbs on the table in the center of the room.

“Not so far,” Cassie responded, thumbing through the Book of Shadows. “But the book is thick and it’s still early. It’s gotta be in here somewhere.”

“Or it may not be at all,” Wyatt commented, pacing the length of the attic. “That demon…I’ve never see anything like it.” He ceased pacing and turned to face his brother. “We’ve never been up against a demon who wasn’t in the book before. How do you want to handle this?”

“Well, I say we vanquish it then add it to the book,” Chris responded matter-of-factly, quickly setting up the cauldron on the table and arranging the herbs, so he could start brewing his potion.

Wyatt did a double take at his brother’s response. His jaw dropped in surprise and he gently shook his head, not believing his ears. “Excuse me, but who are you, and what have you done with my brother?”

“What?” Chris asked innocently, a grin on his face. He knew exactly what his brother was referring to, and took pleasure in pushing his buttons from time to time. This was one of those times.

“Since when do you run off half-cocked, chasing demons you know nothing about?” Wyatt stepped forward, arms crossed, so he was towering over his younger brother, who was leaning over his cauldron.

Chris righted himself and crossed his arms, meeting his older brother’s stare. “Since one tried to kill my brother and my friend.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know how much a potion will do for us if we don’t know what we’re up against.” Wyatt resumed pacing the attic, hoping the strides would inspire ideas. “We should definitely have a back-up plan.”

“Why don't you just impale it with Excalibur?” Cassie suggested, noting the sword had been returned to the stone in the Manor since it’s last use. Her suggestion was met with stony silence from its owner. The young woman rolled her eyes at her Whitelighter’s stubbornness. “Wyatt, it’s been two weeks since you’ve made your first vanquish with it. Don’t tell me you’re still afraid of it.”

The young blonde immediately stopped pacing and turned on his heel to face his charge. “I am not afraid of Excalibur.”

“No, just all the responsibilities that go along with it,” was Chris’s quick retort. The table he was working at started to shake, and the bottles rattled against each other. “Uh, do you mind?” The youngest Halliwell did not have time for one of his brother’s fits today.

Cassie slammed the Book of Shadows shut and sighed with frustration. “Well, you may want to get over that fear because you were right; the demon isn’t in the book.” She walked over to the table where Chris was diligently working. “You really think a potion is the way to go?” she asked him.

The brunette nodded his assent. “I think that and Wyatt’s firepower are our best bet.”

“Hello! Have you two completely lost it?” Wyatt asked, throwing his arms up in disgust. “We are not gonna chase after this demon!”

“I doubt we’ll have to,” Cassie said, measuring out some poppy seed and handing it to Chris. “He seemed pretty determined this morning. It’s just a matter of time before he shows up again.”

“Which is why I need to hurry up with this potion.” Chris looked up to grab the mandrake root, and saw the expression on his brother’s face. The corners of his mouth were turned down, worry was etched into his features, and his eyes glowed with disappointment. “What’s the matter? The Whitelighter dislikes not being in control?” Chris teased his older brother. When the elder Halliwell’s expression didn’t waiver, the younger sighed with frustration. “You’re supposed to guide, not dictate, Wy,” he reminded his brother. “It’s not your decision to make.” He dropped the herb into the cauldron, and a plume of smoke rose from it.

The young Whitelighter walked to the podium and stared at the Book of Shadows, gently tracing the triquetra with his finger. “What I don’t like is unknown demons attacking my charge, and my brother risking his neck to pursue it, running completely blind.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest and frowned; the Book had let him down. It was the first time this happened, and truth be told, it left him feeling vulnerable. “There’s gotta be something in here,” Wyatt said, opening the Book, refusing to give up. He didn’t get that deep into the book though, when the pages started flipping on their own at a rapid pace. “Whoa,” he said in shock, take a step back from the podium.

Cassie and Chris looked up from the potion they were concocting simultaneously, both surprised, not to see the pages flip, but that they were doing it of their own accord. Typically when the pages flipped, one of the Halliwell brothers was using his power of telekinesis. But clearly, this time, some outside force was the guilty party.

The pages slowed down and then stopped. Chris, Cassie and Wyatt all stepped forward tentatively, eager to read the entry, but a bit hesitant at what they may find. “What’s it say?” Chris asked his older brother.

Wyatt briefly scanned the page then licked his lips before he spoke. “It’s a spell, to find what you desire.”

“And what we desire, is to find the demon,” Cassie said.

“Yeah, but there’s no guarantee that’s what we’d find. The wording is somewhat vague. Who know where we’d end up, or if we’d even end up in the same place. For all we know we could be separated,” Wyatt explained, the Whitelighter in him taking over, pointing out the flaws of the potential plan.

“What’s this ‘we’ business?” Cassie asked, arms crossed in front her chest and her right foot tapping with impatience. “The demon is after me; it’s best I do this on my own.”

“What do you mean, ‘best to do it on your own’? Are you crazy?” Chris walked to the other side of the podium to stand next to his brother and read the spell. “Wyatt couldn’t vanquish the demon, and you want to go after it by yourself?” He shook his head fervently. “No, no way. Either we all cast the spell together, or not at all.”

“I vote for not at all,” Wyatt said, closing the book to illustrate how serious he was. “There has to be another way. Chris, why don’t you finish working on that potion, and Cassie and I will work on a summoning spell.”

The three disbanded from the podium to start their tasks, when the Book opened again, the pages flipping furiously. The three stood and watched in silence. When the pages stopped, Cassie approached the podium. “It’s open to the same spell.”

“Looks like someone really wants us to cast it,” Wyatt commented.

“Grams?” Chris asked, hoping for a sign this assistance was from a family member. The trio stood still for a few moments, and when nothing happened the young man shrugged and joined his friend at the podium. “When Mom and Aunt Prue and Aunt Phoebe first received their powers, Grams used to turn the pages of the Book. Wy, do you think…” He let his voice trail off, leaving the question to linger in the air.

The eldest brother shook his head and walked back to the podium. “Right now, I don’t know what to think.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m thinking this could be our only shot,” Cassie chimed in. When neither boy commented, she continued. “How dangerous could it be, if a family member wants us to cast the spell?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Wyatt said, chuckling softly at the many memories of predicaments his family had gotten itself into with spells gone awry. “I’m thinking we should stick with our initial plan.”

“We could,” Chris said, “but it’s not exactly flawless.” He crossed the room and resumed work on his potion. “I’m flying blind with this potion, and if we don’t know what kind of demon it is, it could be hard to summon it. If I finish making it and then we say the spell, it’ll take us to the demon, and hopefully the potion and our combined powers will be enough.” He dropped a few more ingredients into the cauldron and another plume of smoke arose, only this time, the color changed from gray to light blue, signifying it was complete.

Wyatt sighed in reluctance, admitting defeat. The expression on Cassie’s and Chris’s faces told him he could either let the two of them handle this vanquish on their own, or join them. He had no intention of allowing them to face this demon alone, so it looked like he would be joining them. “Oh, all right. We’ll cast the spell.”

Cassie and Chris exchanged glances and smiles, eager for an adventure. This did not go unnoticed by Wyatt. “There are a few rules, though,” he said, taking charge. “First, we stick together. Second, Cassie, make sure you’re either with me or Chris the entire time. Any sign of trouble at all, we orb back to the Manor. Agreed?”

The two friends nodded their heads in agreement and joined Wyatt at the podium. Cassie stood in the middle, taking a hand of each of the Halliwells. Chris pocketed the potion. “All set," he said.

“Okay,” Wyatt said, his voice filled with nerves. He took a deep breath, and together with Cassie and Chris, began to read the spell:

Power of the witches, come to thee
Help us out so we may see.
Our longing burns just like fire
Take us to what we desire.

In a swirl of bright, twinkling lights, the trio disappeared from the Manor.

A dark-haired young man was leaning against the wall of the science building, just outside a classroom door. He was reading some of his notes, but looked up when he heard the door open. “Hey! Cassie!” Chris called after his classmate. The young woman stopped and turned when she heard her name being called, and he jogged to catch up with her. “How do you think you did?”

She sighed. “Honestly, not too bad,” she replied, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder. “I just wish my notes had faired as well,” she added with a frown, holding out the coffee-stained papers for him to see. On some the ink was merely smudged, but others were completely unreadable.

“Whoa! What happened?” the young man asked, surveying the mess.

“Collision in the quad,” Cassie responded. “Do you think I could make copies of your notes, so I have them for the final?” she asked, spotting a trashcan a few steps away and depositing her soggy notes there.

“Yeah, sure. No problem. We’ll just copy them the next time we’re in the library.” Chris hesitated, not sure how to voice what was on his mind. He would hardly call what they had a friendship; as far as he was concerned they were still acquaintances. But the Whitelighter in him couldn’t help but be concerned, and it won-out. “How’s…everything else?” he timidly asked.

“Oh, well, okay I guess,” the young woman responded. She brushed a few stray strands of hair behind her ear and readjusted the strap of her bag again, her fidgeting indicating she was uncomfortable with this line of questioning. “I’m hanging in there.” She flashed him a quick smile, as if to convince him of how okay she really was.

“Yeah.” Chris bit on his bottom lip, not believing her, but not sure of what else to say. Finally, he decided to offer a helping hand if she felt she needed it. “You know, if there’s anything else I can do for you…”

“Thanks for the offer, but no,” Cassie quickly replied. Truth be told, she was a bit touched by his kindness. All he really knew about her was her dismal performance in the science fields. And while it was really tempting to reach out and accept his offer, she knew she couldn’t. Some things you just had to do on your own. “I’m fine,” she insisted. “Just gotta take it day by day.”

Chris nodded. He knew he wouldn’t get anywhere by forcing his presence or assistance on her. Hopefully, she would reach out on her, when she felt she needed to. “Well, you have my number if you change my mind.”

“Yeah, thanks. Oh, excuse me,” Cassie said, thankful for the interruption, courtesy of her cell phone. “Hello?” There was a moment’s pause then she directed her attention back to the young man standing before her. “This is the hospital,” she explained, covering the mouthpiece with her hand. “I gotta take it.”

“Sure, no problem. See you next class.”

“See you.” The young woman gave him a quick wave then directed her attention back to her phone once he was out of earshot. “This is Cassie,” she said, redirecting her attention to the task at hand, her voice business-like. She was silent while the person on the other end spoke, but then let out an audible gasp. “Oh, no!” she cried, her free hand covering her mouth in shock.

Amid time and space, white, with a soft light glowing, a swirl of lights appeared to reveal a young, blonde man. “So, this is ‘Up There’,” Wyatt said softly to himself, taking in his surroundings. “Huh. Doesn’t look like much.”

“It’s not designed to.”

Wyatt turned around at the sound of the voice, and saw two Elders walking towards him. The younger of the two was quite tall. He had dirty blonde hair and wore an expression of determination. Perhaps he was as new to all this as Wyatt was himself. The older Elder, on the other hand, was shorter, a foot or so by Wyatt’s approximation, and round. He had salt and pepper hair and wore a short beard. He continued to speak. “This is a sanctuary, a place of calm and peacefulness."

"Not one of those parties you like to frequent,” the younger Elder interjected.

“Parties?” Wyatt asked in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner, but he feared he was unable to keep a guilty expression off his face.

“You think we don’t know what you’re up to?” the younger Elder continued, hints of anger and distain in his voice. “Ignoring your responsibilities, your birthright. You spend more time dating than vanquishing evil.”

“So you’re spying on me?” All guilt immediately left the young man and was replaced with intense anger. How dare they invade his life, his privacy! “Well, I’m sorry the ‘twice-blessed child’ isn’t living up to your expectations. But I’m not here to just do your bidding and rid the world of all evil. In case you’ve forgotten, I happen to be human, too.” He stepped forward so he was nose-to-nose with the younger Elder. He looked him dead in the eye and his voice didn’t waiver as he continued to speak. “And don’t ever imply I don’t save my innocents.”

The two men continued to stare at each other, neither wanting to back down and be the first to break the gaze. Finally the older man stepped in. He slipped an arm around Wyatt’s shoulder and steered him away from his fellow Elder.

“I understand, Wyatt. You’re still discovering who you are, and how magic will fit into your life. It’s only natural. But right now we need you. And I think this will be good for you, too. It’ll allow you to explore another part of your magical heritage, and maybe show you who can be.” The older Elder started to walk forward, his arm still around the young Whitelighter in an effort to distract him from his earlier conflict. The younger Elder stood behind him, arms crossed in front of his chest, none too pleased to have his peer interfere in the confrontation.

“You’re assigning me a charge, then?” Wyatt asked.

“Yes. A young woman will be coming into her powers soon. She’s new to the world of magic, but a great destiny awaits her. She’s going to need your help and guidance.”

“And you…you think I’m ready for that?” There was a hint of nervousness in the young Whitelighter’s voice. Just before he orbed to meet the Elders he felt butterflies in his stomach and a wave of excitement wash over him. His first charge! But now that he was here, and his charge was being handed to him, he was having doubts. Helping people, handling responsibility, that was Chris’s forte. He, on the other hand, was the demon hunter, someone who operated best under the influence of adrenaline, not thought and reason.

“This is your time, Wyatt. And I wouldn’t trust this task to anyone else.” He held up a hand when the Whitelighter opened his mouth to speak. “Your brother has his own path, and will follow it in his own time. Trust us.”

Wyatt snorted. “Easier said than done.”

“True,” the Elder smiled at the young man’s candor. “But this is your destiny, and if there’s one thing I know your family taught you, it’s that you can’t fight your destiny.”

Wyatt dropped his head and stared at his shoes for a moment. When he raised his head, and soft smile graced his handsome features. “Destiny always gets its own way,” he said softly, repeating the words his great-grandmother used to say and had become the Halliwell mantra. The young man’s thoughts turned to the weekend’s demonic activities, and he bit his bottom lip, deep in thought.

“Is there something else?” the Elder asked. It appeared to him the young man was having an inner struggle, trying to decide whether or not to speak his mind.

“Well, while I’m up here…I have a question.” Feeling some courage, Wyatt took his offensive stance, legs shoulder-with apart and arms crossed in front of his chest. “The other night Aunt Paige and I tried to vanquish a Thorn Demon. A demon you sent us after, I might add. The vanquishing potion didn’t work. Any chance you can tell me why?”

The two Elders exchanged glances, obviously trying to decided what, if anything at all, to tell the new Whitelighter. Finally, the older one began to speak. “Just like we sense this witch coming into her power, evil senses it too, but in a different way. This witch, she will have quite a formidable power, and evil can sense that. It’s not unusual for lower-level demons to acquire additional powers, in an effort to protect themselves from any perceived threats.”

“So, she’s going to be vulnerable then. Until she fully comes into her power, that is,” the younger Elder joined in.

The older Elder nodded in agreement to his peer’s statement. “And for a while afterwards, too,” he said, expanding on the explanation. “Just like your mother and aunts, it will take this new witch time to master her powers. Coming into your powers as an adult is very different from growing up with them as a child.”

“Any chance you’ll tell me what her power is?” Wyatt’s question was met with silence. “No, I didn’t think so,” he said, scratching the scruff on his chin he neglected to shave when his head started ringing. He re-crossed his arms and sighed when the Elders still hadn’t provided him with an answer. “Is there anything else?”

The eldest man licked his lips before beginning to speak. “Just remember: no one can fight who they are, who they’re meant to be.” The two men did not elaborate on this statement, and Wyatt took that to mean the conversation was finished. He nodded his head in assent, to let them know he got the message, the orbed back to the Manor.

“Do you think he understood, Amos?”

The older Elder sighed. “He will, Samuel, in time.”

Cassie stepped into the hospital elevator and pressed the button for her mother’s floor. She took a sip of her coffee and closed her eyes. She was tired, but it was a good tired. It was nice to have been up late partying instead of studying for once.

When the elevator arrived on her floor, she quickly took another sip before stepping out. Truth be told, she didn’t care for the taste of coffee much. But with all the running around she’d been doing over the last few years, she learned to deal with it. It started so innocently: a trip or two to the hospital cafeteria, drinking it to pass the time away. Now she couldn’t get her day started without it, and sometimes her afternoon as well.

She stopped in the doorway to her mother’s room, and was happy to see her sitting up, flipping through a magazine. Her mother, Catherine Cole, had always loved fashion and fashion magazine. And that didn’t stop simply because she was limited to wearing a drafty hospital gown. “Hey, there,” Cassie greeted her, stepping into the sterile room her mother had called home for the last month.

Catherine looked up and smiled at the sight of her daughter. Had she been in perfect health, looking at her daughter would have been like looking into a mirror: same porcelain skin; wide, bright smile, and think brown hair. They were so alike, with the exception of their eyes, of course. Cassie had her father’s eyes. “Hey, stranger. I was wondering if you had time today for your mother.”

“It took some shuffling, but I managed to squeeze you in.” She walked over to the lone chair in the room and set her bag down next to it. It was loaded with the latest issues of fashion magazines and her physics notes. It was probably as heavy as those sets of encyclopedias her mother was telling her about, the ones she used for research when she was a kid.

Catherine padded the space next to her on the bed. “Well, tell me about it. How’s your weekend going?”

The young woman sat down next to her mother and stretched out her legs. “Pretty good. I got some studying in for Physics, and there’s a chance I might even pass this exam. And, well…” She paused. When she spoke again she lowered her voice, as if she was sharing a secret for only her mother to hear. “I made a new friend.”

“Oh, really?” The older woman wore an expression of surprise on her face, even though she tried to hide it. Her daughter was always shy and had a hard time approaching new people. Making new friends was not a task she challenged herself with on a regular basis.

“Really, so you can wipe that look of surprise off your face.” Catherine at first wore an over exaggerated expression of surprise at her daughter’s suggestion, but then laughed at getting caught. Cassie joined in the laughter, something the two of them didn’t do often enough. “His name is Chris Halliwell and he’s in my Physics class. We met in the library on campus last night and started studying together. Then we went out to his mother’s club.”

“Club?” This time Catherine was unable to keep the surprise out of her voice, and really didn’t even bother to try. Cassie never expressed any interest in clubs. Her idea of a perfect night out was spending it at a ball game.

“Yeah. His mother owns P3.”

“So, you found a tutor and went clubbing with him. Hmmm…well, you certainly accomplished a lot in one night.” She smiled. “Dating the tutor…” She snuck a peek at her daughter, who was starting to squirm. It felt so natural to tease her and at the same time, a little sad. She hadn’t had much to tease her daughter about the last year or so.

“No! No, no, no! First off, he’s not my tutor; he’s my study partner. And second, we are not dating.”

“Oooh…someone’s a little sensitive. What? Do you have a crush?”

“Mom,” she whined. “I do not have a crush. I’m just a little excited, that’s all. This is the first friend I’ve made since I started college. I’ve let a lot of my friends from high school slide…it’s just nice to interact with someone other than medical professionals and the take-out delivery guys.” Cassie coughed to break the uncomfortable silence hanging in the air. The last thing she wanted to do was make her mother feel guilty for getting sick, like it was her fault her social calendar was empty. Because the truth was no matter how ugly it got or how ugly it was still going to get, there’s no place she’d rather be than at her mother’s side.

“But still,” Catherine sighed. She was becoming short of breath and took a moment before continuing. “I just wish I knew there would be someone to support you and take care of you once I’m gone.”

“Mom,” Cassie gasped, turning to look her mother in the eye, a horrified expression on her young features. “Please, don’t talk like that,” she said softly.

“Cassie…” the older woman said, her voice stern. Just because she was ill didn’t mean she couldn’t play the mom card if necessary. She closed her eyes to gather her thoughts, and when she opened them they were shining with tears. “You and I both know what my prognosis is. Ignoring it doesn’t make it less real. There’s no point in denying it. I’m dying, Cassie. And I need to know that you’ll be okay.”

The young woman’s green eyes shined with tears. “Oh Mom, you’re all I need,” she said, taking the older woman’s hand in her own and giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’ve given me the strength to deal with all this. I’ll be okay. I promise. I don’t need anyone else.”

Catherine put her hand over their joined ones and sighed, shaking her head slightly. “Everyone needs someone, Cassie. And one day you’ll meet that someone. I just don’t want you to be so stubborn and determined to make it on your own, that you let him walk right by.” She tried to make eye contact with her daughter, but failed. She continued anyway. “I know it hurts. But it’s supposed to. You can’t appreciate the good until you’ve felt the bad.”

“Leave it to you to be philosophical right now.”

“Well, it’s all true.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Oh, Cassie. My dear, sweet Cassie.” She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her daughter’s ear. It took all her strength to do that, but it was worth it. She sighed and closed her eyes. “There’s so much…so much I still have to tell you,” Catherine said softly. She opened her eyes and watched her daughter, who staring intently at their joined hands.

“Not now, Mom. There’s plenty of time. You can tell me another day.” Cassie slid off the bed and helped her mother slide back down into it, pulling the covers up tight around her to tuck her in.

Catherine sighed. It was happening so much more often, the waves of exhaustion taking over. Each day was progressively harder to keep up her strength. “I love you, Cassie,” she whispered, before her eyes closed and she drifted off to sleep.

Cassie leaned over and kissed her mother’s forehead. “I love you too, Mom.”

One more to write, and I can post the next section on ff.net. It feels good to be writing again...