Meant To Be- Charmed fic(slight xover SN) - R - halliwellcest - wincest

[tigriswolf]

Title: Meant To Be  
Fandom: "Charmed" with an itty "Supernatural" crossover
Disclaimer: Not my characters. Just for fun.
Warnings: AU for everything; a dose of crossover; some more AU; and there are a few original characters running around, but don’t mind them
Pairings: incestuous slash Wyatt/Chris; incestuous slash for Sammy and Deanio; and a few het pairings, as well
Notes: This was inspired by more than just my demented mind: “Tell Me, Brother, When Is Before?” by Devilaire Mshadi(ff.net); “Dream Done Green” from The Night Fantastic; and my new love of The Boondock Saints
Wordcount: almost 3000
Rating: R
Point of View: third

 

I

The dagger slid into Phoebe like butter, slicing through skin, fat, muscle, and finally bone. He paused as he felt the blade slide through a rib and pulled it back out with a—were he anyone else—sickening slurp.

“Dear Phoebe, you fool,” he purred, leaning in close and whispering in her ear. “You made a mistake with me. You all did.”

She collapsed, body unable to cope with the pain, passing out before she hit the floor. He smiled down at her. She’d bleed out before the whitelighter—or was he an Elder now? Maybe even a mortal or Avatar. So hard to keep up with these things—could get to her.

“Goodbye, weakest of the Sisters,” he told her, blowing a kiss before walking out of the room.

II

He didn’t stay to watch, but he heard that Prue was the one to find her. He felt the city foundations shake at her pain and fury, which spoke of vast amounts of power. It was written off as a 5.4 on the Richter.

Prue lashed out at the demon community, going on a—forgive me—witch-hunt. She vanquished thousands and her strength grew with each.

But Piper was the one the Underworld feared. She pulled into herself, locked down, and froze. No emotion, no words, just… ice cold, like the Artic tundra. But Prue and Leo knew one day she’d thaw and Vesuvius would have nothing on her.

And then the fourth sister was found. He dealt with her, of course. Same fate, except the cut was on the left instead of the right.

Leo asked the Elders; Prue interrogated demons. Leo revealed Magic School and made use of their archives—finally, three years to the day of Phoebe’s death, two years and five months to Paige’s, he found it.

Prue sat beside Piper—who hadn’t spoken since Prue called her and sobbingly begged her to come home—arms around her shoulders, and they listened to Leo.

“The cuts-the way—” he stopped, licked his lips, began again, slipping into whitelighter mode for the first time since Phoebe’s death. “In ancient times, before Christ, even, there were legends, myths, prophecies. Seers and fortune-tellers spoke of a broken triumvirate, of two who were three. After—”he cut himself off; they didn’t speak of Phoebe. “The Elders thought it might be you, but then—” he stopped himself again. They didn’t speak of her, either. “This duo is supposed to be the best of the best, the perfect team. They aren’t for either side; they care only for each other.”

“And the way—” Prue started to ask, then paused, arms tightening around Piper. “What does that have to do with this two who were three?”

“The cuts,” Leo explained, gesturing wildly. “They were exactly the same, perfect copies. And—” he orbed in a book and flipped to a marked page, “here,” he said, stabbing a finger at a passage, “it says the mark.” He walked over, handed the text to Prue.

She glanced at the words then looked back up. “A sacrifice? So that duo can come into its power?” Leo nodded, unable to meet her eyes. She finished the passage quickly, flipped the page and froze at the illustration. “Leo,” she whispered, looking up, horrified.

Piper grabbed the book from her, stared at the etching. “When was this drawn?” Piper’s voice lashed out, harsh and hoarse.

“A thousand years before Christ,” Leo answered softly.

Piper raised her head, eyes boring into him. “I don’t care if these two who were three are the strongest force of Light in history,” she said, voice colder than an iceberg, surer than a thunderstorm. “They stole my sisters. I am going to end them.

Prue and Leo shared a glance. Prue nodded. “Yes, Piper,” she responded, pulling her only sister into a hug. “We deserve to have our vengeance.”

“I cannot condone this,” Leo said, walking forward and sliding down next to Piper, also wrapping his arms around her. “But I’ll help all the same”

III

If he had been anyone else, he might have felt fear. Instead he lightly slapped the back of his brother’s head.

“I told you to incinerate that text, Wy,” he said, quickly dodging out of reach.

Wyatt followed and lunged for him; they grappled for the better part of five minutes, Wyatt finally winning due to his extra three inches and twenty pounds.

“Cheater,” Chris grumbled, brushing off his shirt.

“Blame our parents,” Wyatt shot back.

They shared a grin and returned to their posts just inside the doors of Magic School’s library. Gideon—bastard—would be entering soon.

Even though there wasn’t a Chris to kill in this reality—things had been fucked-up so beautifully there wouldn’t be a Wyatt, either—neither of them could forgive the Elder for the younger’s death.

They tortured every Gideon they came across. It was fun hopping realities.

(Sometimes Chris thought of telling Wyatt how insane their lives were, but they were together. They were healthy. After a fashion, they were happy. Wasn’t that all that mattered?)

“So,” Chris began, “why exactly did we hang around after killing Phoebe?”

Wyatt shot him a smirk then held a finger to his lips. Chris nodded, hearing Gideon whistling as he walked to the library.

As one they moved, each grabbing an arm. Chris said, “Silencio,” stealing Gideon’s voice and gestured to the doors, shutting and locking them.

“Because,” Wyatt said, answering his question, “I wanted to see if this world would be the same.”

Gideon died from the same wound that killed their aunts, just after some extraneous torture they hadn’t faced.

IV

If the original Charmed Ones—Prue, Piper, Phoebe—had known what their blood would birth, none of them would ever have had sex.

See, in the very first timeline Prue didn’t die. None of them did. She married a nice male witch, had two kids, died at thirty-six in a demon attack. Rob, her husband, died avenging her, his premonitions not much help at all.

Penny, her daughter, died of old age at ninety-two. Vic, her son, died in a shootout with the cops. He let them kill him, consumed by grief at his parent’s death; it had driven him mad.

Piper, unable to handle Prue’s killing, had cast a spell she thought didn’t work. It did, however—just took far longer than she had anticipated.

In the second time around, Piper died. Prue’s grief and rage consumed her; she found a way into the Underworld and her powers quickly tripled in strength, fed by her emotions. She took out every demon between her and the Source, then him as well, leaving a void filled by her. She became the ultimate evil—a twisted force of good.

In this world, Phoebe cast the spell, sending everything back the way it was. And she died, in a car wreck at seventeen.

That reality, the others never got their powers, just lived out normal lives. And on her deathbed, Grams cast the spell, knowing it wasn’t the way it should be.

One after the other, over and over—finally, in the twenty-seventh, Wyatt was born. And fifteen new worlds followed, each more fucked-up than the last—until Chris came to be. And weeks after his birth, Phoebe conceived a son, named Victor Cole. Perhaps a mistake, but no one ever knew: he died in a demon attack at age seven.

And seventeen more worlds followed, first Phoebe, then Wyatt, then Chris, searching for Vic but he was never found again.

That was when the broken triumvirate and the two who were three rumors began to be whispered.

Phoebe had other children in other worlds, and so did Paige or Prue. Piper, too, but Wyatt and Chris were always there, no matter what else varied.

And the walls, the threads, began to fall, to unravel; memories invaded their dreams, lives they had never lived, not really, but couldn’t escape.

Finally Wyatt and Chris and their cousins—Paul, Mel, Prue, Pete, Vic(not the Vic from their dreams, but close)—and Mom and Dad and Aunts Phoebe and Paige and Uncle Kyle had the life they’d searched for over a thousand lifetimes

And Fate, the malicious bitch, snatched it away, at Chris’ fourteenth birthday party. Tore Mom from life, took her quickly, too fast even for Wyatt to react. And Phoebe and Paige, days later, while they were still reeling. Leo vanished a week after Piper died; his dismembered corpse was found half a month later.

Wyatt did his best, but even if he was the Twice Blessed Heir of Magic, he was also a sixteen-year-old boy. Uncle Kyle was swallowed by his own grief, blinded to his son and daughter, and ate a bullet not six weeks after Paige died.

Paul and Prue didn’t know where to turn. At ten and eight, they searched for something to hold on to. Chris tried to keep everything together, while Wyatt worried about protection, but on Chris’ fifteenth birthday, Paul and Pete determined they’d make their moms proud. Paul orbed them to the Underworld and they took out a nest before they died.

That night—all five of them had felt the deaths—four year old Vic and seven year old Mel crawled into Chris’ bed, sobbing and trembling.

“When will it be okay?” Mel asked, choking on the plea, wanting only to feel safe again.

“Wy’s working on that,” Chris answered, pulling them close.

Three more worlds later and Wyatt was the Source, everyone but Chris was dead, and Chris led the Resistance.

As he died the same day he was born, Chris knew from his dreams that Wyatt was still working on it.

V

It can only be so many lives before the timeline unravels. Bits and pieces showed up at night, woven into their dreams. Because Wyatt and Chris were the most powerful, theirs were the clearest

At fourteen, three weeks after his mother’s death—again—Chris slipped into bed with Wyatt.

“Everything will be okay,” Wyatt whispered, sitting up and looking at Chris, stretched out beside him in boxers and no shirt. ‘This life, I swear.”

“So why didn’t you save her?” Chris asked.

Wyatt leaned down, caressed Chris’ face. “Sometimes, there must be sacrifices.” He kissed his little brother—the first time this life, but not the first ever, and certainly not the last.

VI

And finally the walls came tumbling down. Before his tenth birthday, Wyatt remembered every life he’d lived. He knew every spell, every power, every nuance. He could have taken the world before he hit puberty.

Omniscience wasn’t a power he should have had. No one should know everything. And all that knowledge drove him completely mad.

Chris lasted a little longer—all the way till he was twelve. As the knowledge beat at him, he sought out his brother. “Make it stop,” he gasped, falling to his knees before Wyatt; Wyatt knelt beside him, pulled him into his arms, and pressed their lips together. The world went away and they both knew they were home.

It could be said that was the beginning, but it honestly wasn’t—the true beginning of Wyatt and Chris was when a prophet told of the Two Who Were Three eons before.

VII

They realized, a few years later, lying in bed together, that their world was boring. So they decided to travel.

“Through time?” Chris asked blankly. “We can do that? Without affecting us?”

“No,” Wyatt said, waving his hand. “We’ll affect ourselves, but it won’t be us.”

“Hmm.” Chris rolled his eyes. “Way to clear that up.”

Wyatt chuckled. “C’mon, it’ll be fun. Just trust me.”

So Wyatt searched the world, trying to find a way to flit through time, to fuck everything up without changing them.

He finally found an old man who might hold the answer, but Sam refused to talk to him.

“I’ll speak to the younger,” he said, and said nothing more to Wyatt.

Chris sat across from Sam in his ramshackle house and told him, “Anything you say to me, Wyatt’ll hear. You know that, right?”

“Do you love your brother?” Sam asked, green eyes piercing Chris to the core.

“With everything in me,” Chris answered, without a second thought.

“Would you do anything for him? Damn the world if it kept him safe?”

Chris got the feeling Sam was reading his soul. “Yes.”

Sam nodded. “I’ll give you the information you need if you deliver a message for me.”

Sam gave him a book, the one copy left in the world, and a thick, well-worn envelope. “You can read the letter if you want,” Sam told them, eyes alive for the first time, Chris was sure, in years. “Won’t make much sense, though.”

Wyatt followed his eyes to a portrait above the useless fireplace: a vibrant figure in a black coat stood in front of an old car. Not much detail could be seen, but even through the dust and years, Wyatt could tell the man had been beautiful. “Even if he never got the letter,” Wyatt said, “he knew.”

Sam graced him with a smile and shut the door.

VIII

They needed to be stopped and Wyatt knew it. They had become what their family fought.

(They delivered the letter, dropping it onto Dean while he slept. Sam—years younger—slept in the bed across the room. They didn’t stay to see the reactions, but before they left that reality—after killing Gideon and Leo—they checked in. Dean and Sam were wrapped around each other, passed out naked, so they assumed the contents of that envelope were good.)

Somewhere along the way, something had gone wrong. And with all his knowledge, Wyatt could pinpoint it.

Victor Halliwell, the third male ever born to the Warren line, was needed. Together—two brothers and a cousin—they were greater than the Charmed Ones, the end of the world—they eradicated evil, ended corruption of the Light, ushered in Paradise.

Wyatt Matthew, Christopher Pericles, Victor Cole—too good together, too pure. So one had to die, had to be erased, before he became too powerful.

Wyatt and Chris were born too powerful, but Vic would come into his power on his thirteenth birthday. So the Elders and the Avatars and the demons worked together to make certain it would never happen.

And, frankly, after they realized that, Chris and Wyatt were a mite pissed off. They spent three worlds getting their vengeance and then another ninety-five searching for Vic, looking for their missing piece. They never found him; he existed only in that one timeline. He’d never be reborn, not the one they needed.

So they went on a rampage. They didn’t really need a reason—they were completely insane, and that was explanation enough. But if they wanted to explain, Wyatt would say it was an experiment: kill one of the Sisters—not Piper, though. Incest was one thing, matricide another; but patricide was fine. They’d never liked Leo anyway—and see how the others reacted. They used a different way every time.

But Wyatt was growing weary. He wasn’t keeping count, but it had been over three thousand worlds. He should be dead by now. He couldn’t tell Chris, though. So Wyatt deliberately used the sign of the Two Who Were Three—yet another prophecy about him—and purposefully left that book where Leo would find it.

IX

They left Gideon in the library. Wyatt knew Leo would find him, would connect him to Phoebe and Paige. Piper would create a potion, would boost it with something—blood of Death, tear of Innocence, skin of Angel—and finally it would all be over.

As the Twice Blessed Heir of Magic, he knew it. Only three souls ever conceived had the strength to end him: his mother, his brother, his cousin. And, though Chris would convince him otherwise if he spoke of it, he needed to be destroyed.

Honestly—they should have died with Vic a billion lifetimes ago.

X

Piper summoned the Angel of Death and asked icily for blood. She pinched a toddler, collecting a vial of tears. She sliced some flesh off of Leo’s arm, while he winced and didn’t watch.

Mix in a little of this, a dash of that, stir—bring to a boil, simmer for seven minutes, and you have the potion to kill those who should never have been born.

Piper didn’t know who they were, didn’t care. They’d killed her baby sisters.

Leo orbed her and Prue to their lair—an upscale apartment she’d never be able to afford this lifetime. She wandered through, bottle clutched in her hand. Prue took the front, she the back.

In the master bedroom she found them, the Two Who Were Three. Two young men, early twenties, gorgeous and radiating power even in sleep, twined about each other.

The larger raised his head from the pillow and his eyes caught her, pulled her in. “End it,” he said softly, pleading, “End it before he wakes.”

Phoebe flashed through her mind, five year old Phoebe asking where the baby bird’s momma was, why she didn’t come back. Righteous fury filled her, suffused every particle—and relief softened his face as he sank back onto the bed and she threw the potion.

Fin

Unfortunately for Wyatt, some things are meant to be. And the dagger sliced through Phoebe like a knife through softened butter, while knowledge sang in his blood.

Comments

[charlie-jae.livejournal.com]

Um... ok I got everything except the ending part:

Unfortunately for Wyatt, some things are meant to be. And the dagger sliced through Phoebe like a knife through softened butter, while knowledge sang in his blood.

Was that another world being created? Little lost on that part but other wise I really enjoyed this ficlet. Almost too much, lol.

[tigriswolf]

No--well, yes. It shows that what they became--evil or dark or just completely insane--was 'meant to be', as it were, and could not be escaped. Could not be outrun and left behind.

Thank you.

[eboniorchid.livejournal.com]

OMG! Dark and beautiful. This is definetely going in my memories. Wow! I'm seriously still in awe. And I definitely dropped a few tears with: “Even if he never got the letter,” Wyatt said, “he knew.”

Amazing job with this, really.

[tigriswolf]

Thank you so much!

[belleimani.livejournal.com]

Whoa. That's hardcore and awesome.
Wish the show had stayed this well written.

[tigriswolf]

Oh, *blushes* Thank you so much!

[belleimani.livejournal.com]

You're welcome, it's true!

Little Late To The Party

[alznthlay.livejournal.com]

I've been going on a bit of a wild hunt for good Charmed fics and so you can imagine how happy I was when I stumbled over this.

:D

Loved this and...just, yay!

Re: Little Late To The Party

[tigriswolf]

Thank you so much!

[ssauei-ssui.livejournal.com]

That was awesome. That was fantastic. I love it. The whole timeline idea was wonderful and wonderfully done. *applauds*

[tigriswolf]

Thank you!

[kira-bouviea.livejournal.com]

Fantastic...*speachless*

[tigriswolf]

Thank you so much!

[realpestilence.livejournal.com]

It's the fact that they knew they were wrong and twisted, and that it eventually came to bother and weary them, that makes this more tragic. Also, that they were supposed to be a triad, and couldn't ever complete themselves.

The little bit of Sam/Dean was sweet, though.

[tigriswolf]

Oh, wow, dude; it's been so long since I thought about this story! *hee*

Thank you so much!