Hi, this is my first Charmed fic. The idea has been bothering me for a while so I decided to write it out. Feedback would be appreciated and honored.

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Chris Halliwell was laying on the roof of his house yet another night. He had made it a habit by now, staring up into the sky waiting for something to come and blow his brains out. Every night since his eighth birthday he would orb up to the roof and lie down watching the stars. Often he would fall asleep before he remembered to come down and send his family into fits when they couldn't find him. They had done everything, therapy, blessings, potions, camp, nothing could help him. Every night at ten o clock he would orb up to the roof and stay there until someone came to get him in the morning.

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Chris woke up in his bed lying on his back. Big brother Wyatt or Leo must have carried him home. Piper was calling him down for breakfast. Chris went down to find his mother frying some eggs on the stove.

"Hi peanut," she smiled, "What do you want for breakfast?" She didn't mention anything about his habit.

"It's okay, Piper. I'm not hungry." Chris watched the smile fall off her face. He would have thought she got over it by now. Chris never called her mom. That was Wyatt. Always Wyatt.

Speak of the devil (or angel); there was the savior of the world coming down right now, pillow marks, boxers, and all. "What's for breakfast?" he asked groggily.

"I'll whip you up some pancakes, honey." Piper said.

Wyatt sat down and started going on about the football game that the school won yesterday. "You saw how I pummeled that wide receiver and managed to score the final touchdown? One minute it looked like we were about to lose and the next we're into the regional tournament and Ashley Cathers wants to go out with me. High school rules!"

For you, maybe. Conceited jock. Maybe you should try making yourself something to eat once in a while. You're old enough. Chris didn't say any of these things aloud. He just excused himself. If he heard anymore boasting in the next half hour he would probably start vomiting. He didn't stop to look at the concern on his parent's faces.

Chris climbed up to his room which was opposite from Wyatt's. He and Wyatt were polar opposites. While Wyatt's room was overflowing with awards and trophies, a computer and TV with an LCD screen and a DVD player, Chris's looked relatively apathetic and empty. He had a plain bed with a wooden frame and blue covers, a desk with a laptop that he bough on sale for homework, and a dresser by his bed for nighttime reading. The only thing that disclosed any facts about the person that stayed in this room was a stack of books about different properties of plants, history, and the origin of dragons.

Chris tentatively lied down on his bed. After hours of resting on a hard surface, the soft mattress was very appealing to his muscles. He felt his eyes getting heavier when his head touched the pillow. Wyatt decided at that time to barge in. Well, to be fair, he didn't exactly barge in just knock loudly. Wyatt wasn't fair to anybody, why did he deserve to be treated fairly? Because Chris wasn't like Wyatt; he would never turn into that spoiled child.

"Hey Chrissy… are you awake?" Wyatt asked. Why did he talk to him as if he was unstable? He wasn't unstable! He was perfectly sane! "I'm heading to school so I could, you know, drop you off at the library on the way if you want me to."

"Sure, I need to drop some books off." Chris made himself get up. "My things are ready."

He grabbed a purple backpack filled with notebooks, arithmetic textbooks, and other books fiction and nonfiction and ran down the stairs into the passenger seat of the old Buick, Wyatt right beside him "to make sure he doesn't hurt himself."

Once they were on the road the usual interrogation started. Wyatt asked, "How did you sleep?"

"Fine."

"Are you sure?"

"You're the one that brought me down aren't you?" It wasn't a question.

Wyatt continued looking at the road. "When was the last time you ate?"

"Yesterday. Lunch. Let me off here, I'll walk."

Conceited Jock didn't listen like always. "No. I'm not letting you."

"You're not in charge of me." Chris pounded on the window.

"Calm down, Chris!" Wyatt took his wrists and lowered them back down. "Chris, stop!"

"No, no, no! You're not in charge of me! I can manage myself!"

"Yes, Chris, yes you can. Now all you need is to calm down. We're almost there. Then, you'll have me off your back for the rest of the morning." What if I don't want you off my back, "dear brother"? What if I just want you gone? A powerful surge of hate coursed through Chris and he barely managed to contain it. He didn't know everything. But he certainly knew more than Wyatt; and one day, it would cripple him. Wyatt that is.

Wyatt dropped him off in front of the door and shouted back, "Dad's coming at 10. You know where to be." Yes, Wyatt. He does know where to be.

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Dragons used to be found bountifully in Eurasia and Australia. Today, in the 20th century however, they can only be found in remote parts of China, the Poles, and the Underworld…

That's the type of stuff that Chris read about on his spare time, which was almost all the time. He had been homeschooled after the first week of first grade when the teacher complained that he sat alone during recess, and the counselor addressed his "suicidal thoughts". It wasn't his fault that teachers don't know anything about demons. "Tell the truth", Piper had said, so that was what he did. All that got him was a referral to a professional child psychologist. After that, Leo gave him a lecture on what he could and could not say to strangers and people who didn't know about Wicca.

Leo orbed on time in the janitor's closet. Without a word they orbed back to the kitchen. "Stay here," Leo said. That was a change, usually Leo would try to make a conversation and give up in five minutes when he'd find out he couldn't.

He came back a few seconds later holding a black letter with white print. Even Chris's eyes widened in shock:

Mr. Christopher Halliwell,

You have been chosen out of a list of qualified participants to compete for the chance to become the Leader of Hell. Await guidance Friday, Witching Hour.

--The Source