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Thank you all so much for reviewing the last chapter; I really appreciate it and I hope you all keep it up! The more reviews, the faster the update: good reviews always tend to encourage me to write more. :)

Well, here's chapter four. Enjoy!


The rain had started after an hour of his wanderings and now Chris was cold and soaked. The cold rain had stung against his skin, and the chilly wind blew harder. He didn't care though, he didn't mind that feeling too much. He had felt worse almost everyday thanks to those visions. He sat against the brick wall in the park, staring at an empty playground. The bridge was protecting him from the cold rain, keeping him from getting any more soaked than he was, as well as allowing him to smoke a cigarette. The end burned a bright orange as he inhaled, one of the only lights in the dark of the park. A bottle sat by his side, filled with a cheap brand of whiskey he had gotten from Landon. He payed his best friend a visit at one of the many parties he would be attending that night. His friend gave him the usual drunken, happy greeting and gave him a half a bottle of whiskey for the road. Chris hadn't drank that much of it though. He would have to go home at sometime, and he didn't want to come in smashed to only find his parents waiting for him in the parlor. He had a feeling at least one of them--if not both--were waiting up for him to give him a good talking to.

He still couldn't believed he had yelled at Leo like that--he meant his father, not Leo, his father. God, these visions were starting to really affect him. His emotions towards Leo and his other self's seemed to mold together in that moment and he just let it out. His other self had mostly taken over earlier, the vision he had had about Leo still lingering in the back of his mind. His father had seemed so hurt when he called him by name--he could see them man almost flinch back as if the words stung him. Chris had felt bad about that, but he had just been so angry. This was why he couldn't be around his family too much, he didn't know what he would do anymore. These visions were affecting his real life much more than before, and he even had been trying to keep his space from Wyatt--the one person he used to be closest to. He was afraid something would happen if he was around them too long that would give up what was going on with him. The farther he was, the safer his secret was, he supposed. He was trying to get as far away from the magical community as possible. All magic ever did for him was cause him pain. He didn't need that, and he was not going to just sit there and be an open target by being around one of the most powerful Wiccan families ever to exist. He wouldn't stray completely away from his family--he knew that would kill his mother more than anyone, and he didn't want to hurt her like that--but he would stay away most of the time. It was his only option, he believed.

The rain had lightened up, and Chris was starting to shiver a bit. He decided to get himself home, and maybe completely avoid the whole conversation his parents were dying to have by orbing upstairs. With one last swig of whiskey, Chris threw the bottle to the ground and dematerialized in a swirl of white and blue orbs, ending up in the foyer of the manor. Chris cursed when he noticed the light that was still on in the parlor, and was very annoyed that in his tipsy state he couldn't seem to get himself to orb to the right room.

"Chris," his mother's stern and angry voice caused Chris to look up her way, the woman peering out of the parlor, her brown hair up in a ponytail. She didn't look too pleased with him, and Chris had been fearing his return home for that reason. An angry Piper was a force to be reckoned with and he tried to avoid her rage whenever possible. Maybe he'd just get away with a slap on the wrist and no supper. Well, he hoped, but his mother was one for cruel punishment and fits of yelling.

He gave his mother a small smile, trying to somewhat calm down her nerves. He barely smiled anymore in front of the family, so forcing one out for her should help his cause he supposed. "Hey, mom," he greeted with a small wave. She took one look at his soaked hair and wet clothes and her motherly instincts quickly kicked in, "Chris, honey," she made her way over to him quickly, hand brushing against his drenched hair, "You couldn't have come home before it started raining like this?"

Leo had emerged from the parlor and watched as his wife fussed over their youngest son, ordering him to go get himself changed before he caught a cold. The boy nodded and obeyed, running upstairs to change into a pair of warm clothes before coming back down, towel in hand, as his parents requested. His mother looked much more relaxed and less tense after his return, and her anger seemed to vanish somewhat. Maybe his slap on the wrist was going to happen for once. Maybe he wouldn't have to spend the week cleaning the entire house or reorganizing the potion ingredients as punishment for missing curfew and skipping yet another family dinner.

His mother ushered him into the kitchen and placed him down in front of a plate of food, "I heated up some dinner for you." She told him with a small smile as she sat down next to him, "You didn't have breakfast today, and I wasn't going to let you skip another meal."

Chris picked up his fork as he mumbled a soft, "Thanks," before stabbing at the food.

Leo stood above his wife, hands resting on her shoulders, watching as his son ate his spaghetti. Piper laid a hand on Leo's and looked up at her husband with a soft smile, trying to assure him that what had happened earlier wasn't as big of a deal anymore. Chris seemed rather content, and he didn't seem to want to yell at him anymore.

"Chris," Piper started, causing the boy to look up from his plate, his jade, tried eyes meeting his mother's soft brown ones, "you and your father and I need to talk."

The boy dropped his fork onto the plate and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, "I saw this coming," he told the two, looking over towards the clock, "but could we possibly do this in the morning? I'm tired."

Piper was almost ready to give into Chris' offer, but Leo had started up with an answer before she could speak, "No, Chris, we've got to do this now," Chris looked up towards his father, giving the man an angry glare. It reminded Leo so much of the Chris that had come back to the past all of those years ago, and it hurt him to see that he would still be getting looks like that from his son even though he had worked so hard to become a better father.

"Fine," Chris sighed with annoyance, "what would you like to talk about? Magic related issues or non-magic related ones?"

Piper looked up at Leo for moment, before turning her gaze back on her son and starting up, "The demon attack this morning--"

"I don't want to talk about that," Chris cut her off harshly, sitting up straight in his seat, "Chose another topic or I'm leaving."

"Christopher," Piper said his name with such authority and sternness that the boy quickly rested his back against the chair and slid down in his seat. When his mother took on a tone like that you knew it was better to just answer her questions. He didn't want to get her as angry as she had been when he walked in again. He didn't need to be blown up or forced to sort through the attic and clean until it was spotless. All he needed was to keep himself cooperative and keep his mother calm for the whole rest of their conversation. No snapping, no talking back, none of it. He'd have to just sit and be a polite little boy as she and his father lectured him.

"I just knew, alright," Chris looked up towards his parents, answering the question he knew Piper had been trying to get out.

"Did you have a premonition?" Leo asked, taking a seat next to his wife. He had gone through all of the books that seemed useful in Magic School and found nothing that would help him figure out how Chris had known it would work. The only logical explanation he could think of was a premonition.

"Do you think I would have let myself get hit by that dagger in the first place if I had had one?" Chris asked with a roll of his eyes at the stupidity of his father's questions, "I just knew, can't you accept that?" His eyes travelled back to the plate of food that sat in front of him and he quickly began picking at the noodles again, fork held limply in his hands as he poked at the spaghetti.

Piper and Leo exchanged looks of worry before turning back to their son, deciding to change the subject to something that seemed more pressing to them. They knew they weren't going to get anymore out of him about the demon attack, and they wanted to keep Chris calm. If Chris got upset he would be out of there again in a snap of a finger, disappearing in a swirl of blue and white orbs to God knows where.

"Chris, Peanut," Piper started, the boy looking up at her from his plate. He was met with a warm and gentle look from his mother, one that showed concern and care. He didn't need to see that look, he had a soft spot for his mother when it came to her and that look. It reminded him of when he was younger and he barely saw it anymore. Whenever he did though, he felt like a child again, "What has been going on with you lately? It's just--your not the same Chris as you were months ago."

Chris kept his eyes on his food, swirling the noodles around on the plate, "I don't know what you're talking about," he replied, eyes never leaving the plate, "I'm the same Chris that I've always been," he suddenly stopped moving his noodles around and looked up towards his mother, "You think something's wrong with me?" he asked, sending a look his mother's way, then turning it to his father, "Do you, Leo?"

Chris saw the hurt look in his father's eyes and suddenly realized his slip. He hadn't meant to call him Leo, it just came out. He quickly looked down at his plate before dropping his fork down onto the table with a clank and pushing his chair back, "You know, you're right to think that," he told the two as he stood up, both going a bit wide eyed, "There is something wrong with me. I'm definitely not alright. Know why?" a pause, "Cause I can throw people half way across the room with my mind, I see visions of the future, and I can orb! None of that is what anyone would consider normal!"

Chris turned on his heels and stormed out of the room, his feet pounding hard against the stairs as he made his way to the second floor.

"Chris!" Piper called, standing up from her set and calling after him in anger, "Christopher Perry Halliwell, get your ass back down here this instant! We are not done with this, we're not done!" Piper didn't know what else to do but yell. She felt like she was losing her son. Something was taking him farther and farther away from her, and it hurt her more than anything in the world. She didn't know what else to do but get angry with him. Chris listened to her when she was angry, he sat quiet most of the time and let her get out what she needed. He'd been snapping back at her more though. He had inherited his temper from her, and when they both were upset, the two could really go at it. Chris had surprisingly kept himself partially quiet that night, but she just supposed it was because he was tired.

She heard Chris' door slam with a loud bang and turned to look towards her husband, who had followed her into the foyer. Once she had calmed, her eyes began to tear up and she declared, "He hates me, Leo." She was no longer able to hold back the tears that had built up. Leo quickly wrapped his arms protectively around his wife, holding her gently and sweetly.

"Shh," he shushed her, running hand through her hair, "He doesn't hate you, honey," he assured his wife as she let out sobs, "he's just going through a rough patch right now."

"You heard him," she choked out, "he hates being a witch. He inherited that from me," Piper continued crying and Leo kept his arms wrapped around her, stroking her hair affectionately. His eyes travelled up towards the ceiling, troubled by the thoughts of what Chris had told them. Why did his son hate magic so much? He didn't understand. He used to have at least a content feeling about it, but now it was full on hate. It hurt his mother to hear him say things like he had. Though Piper had never been the biggest fan of being witch--she used to wish for a normal life plenty of times--when she heard her son go on about how much he despised it, she took it to heart. She felt like he was saying he hated the family for being who they were. She was a witch and therefore he was a witch. She had had a forbidden love with Leo and therefore her two son's were faced with many problems because of it.

Piper had yet to calm down, and Leo had a feeling that she would not be any time soon. He would hold her as long as she needed to be held. As long as she felt the need to cry, he would be there to comfort her.


"Christopher, come out come out where ever you are!" Lord Wyatt called in a teasing tone, wearing an amused smirk. When he heard no move and saw no brown haired teenager step out from behind the rubble and demolished buildings around the street, he spoke again, smirk still beaming, "There's no point in hiding, little brother, I will find you, I always find you."

Chris' breathing was heavy and fast, but he tried to keep it as quiet as he could. He heard the sound of boots smacking against concrete at a steady pace, each step as heavy and authoritative as the next. His back was stiff against a brick wall of a destroyed building, listening carefully to his brother's calls and steps. He needed to find a way to escape, but he was too weak to orb. His body wanted to do nothing more then collapse into the dark thick black of a dreamless sleep and escape the tormenter that his brother had become.

"Oh, little Christopher!" Wyatt called out in a mocking voice, "Come out to play!"

A few more minutes filled with the heavy flop of boot against concrete and taunting calls before a sudden quiet fell over the building. He could not hear anymore footsteps striding around the destroyed house, no more mocking calls coming from his brother, nothing. The silence was almost frightening to Chris, but at the same time, he felt some sort of relief fall over him. Maybe Wyatt had gone to look somewhere else, maybe he had finally escaped from Wyatt's sick game of hide and seek.

"Found you, Chris," a hand suddenly fell onto his shoulder, it's grip tight and forceful.

Chris shot up in bed and let out a harsh gasp, his eyes wide. He slid towards the top of his bed, staring at his brother with a frightened expression. The older Halliwell quickly removed his hand from the boy's shoulder and held both of them up, "Sorry," he apologized, eyes as wide as his brother's, "I didn't mean to scare you, I didn't think you were that asleep."

Chris' breathing was starting to regain its normal pace, and the boy calmed himself down somewhat. He stared at his brother, forcing himself to take in every little detail to remind him and assure him that this Wyatt as not the Wyatt from his visions. This Wyatt was his older brother; his somewhat annoying and somewhat full of himself, good, not evil, brother Wyatt.

Wyatt raised an eyebrow at his brother and crossed his arms, "Will you quit staring at me like that; it's really freaking me out."

Chris quickly looked away, his eyes falling onto the comforter on his bed, "Is there a reason why you woke me up, or do you just love to annoy the hell out of me?" he asked, adjusting himself on the bed and sitting up, legs crisscrossed.

"Yeah," Wyatt sat down on the bed near Chris, watching as his brother ran a had through his hair, a gesture his brother always seemed to resort to when nervous, "I wanted to talk to you about something."

"And it couldn't wait?" Chris asked, looking over at his brother as he rubbed at his eyes.

"I've been waiting to ask you all day, but I never see you in school and you're never home anymore," Wyatt watched as his brother let his hands fall to his lap and let out yawn.

"Well, then, ask fast because I'm losing precious sleeping time because of you."

"How did you know I would heal you this morning?" Wyatt asked, staring at his brother with full interest and curiosity.

Chris let out a sigh and rolled his eyes before laying back down and letting his head meet the pillow. He grabbed his sheets up over his exposed arms and turned on his side, eyes shutting as he got comfortable, "Go to bed, Wyatt."

"Chris, I'm not leaving until you give me an answer," Wyatt insisted firmly, standing his ground. When the younger Halliwell didn't respond, Wyatt stood up from his seat and grabbed handfuls of the comforter. He tugged and pulled the sheet halfway off his brother before the boy sat back up and grabbed them, "Stop it, Wy!" Chris yelled, keeping his tone somewhat hushed to make sure he didn't wake up his parents. His brother kept pulling, and the two boys started up a tug-of-war over the comforter, Chris pulling as hard as he could to get the sheets back. With one powerful tug, Wyatt dragged his brother off the bed completely, comforter and sheets coming down with him.

Wyatt wore a smirk and laughed, watching as Chris untangled himself from the sheets that had wrapped around his legs, "I've always been stronger than you," he pointed out with a lighthearted laugh.

Chris had freed himself by then, and suddenly stilled himself at his brother's comment, trying to hide his shock. The similarity of that sentence to the one Lord Wyatt had said in his vision earlier frightened him. He could remember the exact feeling the other him had had when the blade slid into his shoulder, the poison mixing with his blood and burning his veins as it travelled through his body. Wyatt had done that to him--no, not Wyatt, Lord Wyatt. The Wyatt in his visions was not the Wyatt that sat beside him on the floor, wearing that stupid, accomplished grin.

"Are you going to tell me now?" Wyatt asked, looking over towards his brother who was now sitting with his back against the bed, legs stretched out.

Chris let out a sigh and shut his eyes, tilting his head upward and rubbing at his temple. He wanted to tell someone, he really did, and when he was little he used to go to Wyatt for everything, but he just couldn't let the words escape his mouth. He couldn't let Wyatt know what he had saw, he couldn't let Wyatt know what he was in these visions. His older brother pictured himself as the poster boy for all good, and he couldn't tear his brother's image of himself apart like that, even if it was a little bit of a conceding one. He knew what he had to do if he wanted Wyatt to stop bugging him and let him get some shut eye, so the boy heaved another sigh and opened his eyes to look over towards his brother, "I read it in a book at Magic School," he told the older Halliwell, "it was a book on poisons and demon covens. I remembered the way the book described the burning sensation you would feel and remembered reading about how it was a weaker poison than most. It could be healed by an Elder, and since you're half-witch half-whitelighter I assumed you were as powerful, if not more."

Wyatt let the answer sink in for a moment, before nodding in approval, "Makes sense," he spoke his thoughts allowed, more to himself than to Chris, "you and I both are probably more powerful than the Elders."

"There's your answer," Chris said as he stood up and grabbed the sheets and comforter from off the ground and threw them back onto his bed, "now can I get some sleep, or do you have more questions?"

Wyatt stood up from his spot and stared at his brother for moment, his arms crossed and expression showing one of annoyance, "One more thing," he started, receiving a roll of the eyes from his brother, "everything's alright with you, right? I mean, other than this whole James Dean thing you seem to have going, everything is fine?"

"Yes," Chris seemed a bit irked by the James Dean jibe as he pushed his brother towards the door. When the older Halliwell was out of his room and standing in front of him near the door, he added, "Now, go to bed, and don't wake me up this late again."

The door shut in Wyatt's face and he heard the creak of a mattress as his brother collapsed back into bed. He was worried about Chris, and didn't believe that everything was fine. There was something behind his rebellion; it had been just so out of the blue. Sure, maybe he was thinking a little too into this, and maybe it was just your average, normal teenager rebellion, but nothing was average when it involved a Halliwell. There was no normal when magic was involved.


Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

Next Chapter: Another visions with Wyatt (a very long vision, at that)

Until then, please review! I appreciate them all so much and they get me to write and edit these chapters faster! :)

Thanks again for reading!