This is a story I had planned for a while, but I never got around to working on it. I hope you like it, for it is the first Chapter of First Born! Please review if you have the chance, for the reviews are the thing that keeps me going. This will hopefully be a fun ride for you as it will be for me. It will be a while until the plot thickens, but please bare with me until we get to the good stuff. I am using small chapters so I can get to you all easier, and not make long lengthy episodes that take forever to release. Please enjoy!

"Welcome Home"

Henry pulled himself out of the small yellow taxi that was pulled a little too far from the curb. The pounding rain on the roof of the car subsided as he exited. Grabbing from his back pocket, a small black wallet was in his palm. Taking out two twenty dollar bills, Henry handed it to the dark man in the cab; his face seemed concealed by the darkness he created for himself. Henry didn't say anything as he grabbed his messenger bag from the seat of the cab, and watched as it drove away quickly. The rain began to quickly drench his long dark hair. Pulling the loose strands behind his ear, he looked to the white country house in front of him.

The house was just as he remembered it. The panels still faded white slightly, but were probably painted since the last time he was here. The white and yellow flowers seemed to have bloomed due to the rainy weather that San Francisco was experiencing this time of year. The brick fireplace was on the left side of the house, and had no smoke coming from the top, which it normally did on a day like this. The driveway had two cars, a black Suburban that had a railing since being so high up. Henry Senior was named Captain of his parole station in downtown San Francisco about 6 years ago, giving them enough money to afford a new car. His mother's light green Bug sat right beside the large automobile which seemed to pail in comparison to the large car next to it. Paige Matthews had never wanted to be rid of her 'hip' car, so it stayed…

Walking up the many small stone steps up to the front door, Henry mentally prepared himself for what was to come. He had not come back from New York in four years, only phone calls, postcards, and letters were ever sent back to his parents. He was never welcomed as a real family member, due to the powers he lacked. His mother always favored his sisters over him, only because they had the Halliwell legacy, the power of the Warren Line. His sisters were trained, taken care of more, and was often given the more lenient hand from his mother.

Henry sighed as he reached the top step of the Mitchell-Matthews Home. He pulled a hand through his wet hair as water dripped from the ends. Reaching a hand out he tapped twice at the off-white wooden door, with an extravagant picture of a celtic knot, the triquetra, made of glass, in the center of the door. He listened as heavy footsteps came running from the stairs and heard a jiggle of the door handle. Just as the door creaped open, he said to himself, "Welcome Home…"

XXX