Disclaimer: I own nothing, as usual, except for my own thoughts and ideas!
Thank you all so much for the reviews for last chapter, I was so happy to see all of them! Sorry again about the long wait, but I have decided to spend this week (where I have less work than usual) devoted to getting more of this story written and done for you guys. I know exactly where I want it to go, and have the next few chapters all planned out, so writing it should be easy.
Enjoy the new chapter! :)
Wyatt sat in the sun room, textbooks and notebooks scattered on the table in front of him. He was trying to finish up his homework, working through rigorous math problems with no success. All he could think about was his brother and the way he and his aunt acted towards each other earlier that morning. He knew his Aunt Phoebe had felt something weird off Chris, and his brother seemed well aware that she had. He had practically sent a death glare her way before orbing out of the kitchen with Peyton in tow. Something was definitely going on with his brother; this whole teenage rebellion that Wyatt just thought was a whole "Rebel Without A Cause" situation seemed be turning out to be something much more deep. His brother's rebellion was caused by something, and ever since his brother got hit by that dagger the morning before he had been trying to find out what was going on.
He tapped his pencil rhythmically against the table, eyes scanning over the words typed on the page--a jumble of variables and angles and theorems--trying hard to grasp the concept and get his mind to focus on his school work, but he just could not do it. Chris was just always in the back of his mind. He wanted to know what was going on. Not that long ago, he and Chris had been so close, and his younger brother would tell him anything. There had rarely been any secrets between them, and Chris actually liked to be around him. Now, it seemed like Chris was trying to get away from him, that every moment they spent together was strained and uncomfortable for his brother. What had happened to make Chris so desperate to get away from him, as well as the whole family?
Wyatt heard the faint patter of steps against the ground and looked up from his textbook, meeting the gaze of his young cousin, Peyton. She took a few steps closer to him, wearing a small smile, and settled her eyes down onto the assortment of school books scattered about.
"Think you could take a five minute break so I could talk to you about something?" she questioned, causing Wyatt to raise an eyebrow out of curiosity, "It's about Chris," she added, the older Halliwell instantly perking up.
"Yeah," he dropped his pencil onto his notebook and leaned back in his chair. He patted the empty spot next to him, motioning for her to come and sit down beside him. The girl swiftly took the offer and settled herself down next to her cousin.
She pushed a strand of curly hair out of her face before beginning, "I know this is incredibly wrong of me, but I've been letting my guard down a little more around Chris lately, to get glimpses of his thoughts so I could figure out what was going on with him." She lowered her voice a little, in case her Aunt Piper or Chris were in ear shot, "I've been getting some really weird reads off of him."
"Like what?" Wyatt questioned, completely enthralled by his cousin's revelation.
"Like," she paused, trying to find a way to explain it to the elder Halliwell, "I don't know," she let out a sigh, "it's hard to explain. There were thoughts about how much he hated Uncle Leo, and I picked up once on this really weird thought he was having about you."
She paused again, still stuck on how to explain the other things she had found out, "It was just so confusing. His whole mind was this huge, disorganized mess, and I could hardly sort my way through it; I don't know how he handles it."
"I didn't want to tell my mom or yours," she told him, shifting in her seat, "I knew they would take immediate action, and if Chris knew I was doing this more than he thought--and purposely--he'd orb my ass to another dimension," Wyatt almost had to let out a laugh at that. It was true; Chris would not take too lightly to someone going through his thoughts. He was very ... paranoid--well, at least lately he was, "So, we need to keep this between us, alright?" she insisted, "I thought somebody should know, and I knew you would be able to keep it a secret, and besides, he is your brother."
"I won't tell him," Wyatt promised, mind still trying to process all she had told him. He paused for a moment, before speaking up with a question "The weird thought about me that he had, what was it about?"
Peyton paused, trying to find the rights words to explain it to her older cousin, "It was about how you had hurt him, and he didn't understand why you had done it, and that it wasn't you," she looked up towards her cousin, his bemused expression matching hers, "I don't understand what he was thinking, though. You haven't hurt him, well, at least, I don't think you have."
"No," Wyatt shook his head, "I'd never hurt Chris, you know that, Peyton."
Wyatt lost himself in thought for a moment, trying to go over what would cause Chris to think that. He hadn't done anything really hurtful to the kid in a long while, and he just could not come up with a reason for the boy to be thinking that way. Chris was turning out to be so complex lately. He really confused the hell out of Wyatt, and the elder Halliwell just wished that the sixteen year old would at least give him a hint as to what was going on with him.
"I know," she responded, voice quiet, mind still stuck on the weird thought as well. "I don't know what's going on with him," Peyton started, giving a shrug, "it's confusing. His mind is a mess."
Wyatt gave a nod of agreement at that. His brother's thoughts were making no sense to him. He had done nothing hurtful to the kid in ages, and what was up with this, "it wasn't him," crap? What the hell was he talking about? It was confusing and Wyatt just couldn't make any sense of it. Things were definitely turning out to be more complex than he imagined them to be.
"Peyton," Wyatt started, grabbing the girl's attention, "you want to know what's wrong with Chris, right?"
The girl gave a quick nod, raising an eyebrow, trying to figure out where Wyatt was going with this. She had a feeling she knew though, and it would involve snooping around in her cousin's head a little more than she should.
"If you start," Wyatt paused, trying to find the proper phrase that wouldn't make it sound like he was betraying his brother's privacy, "letting your guard down a little more, then maybe we can figure something out."
Peyton's lips curled up into a smirk at the idea, instantly liking it. A small part of her felt a tinge of guilt for liking the idea so much--breaking into her cousin's mind like that was a serious invasion of privacy--but it was for his best interest, right? If she and Wyatt could figure out what was happening to Chris, they could help him, and then he would be grateful for her little invasion of privacy. It was also killing her that she didn't know what was going on. She couldn't help that she was so nosy; she had inherited it from her mother.
"I like the way you think, Wyatt," she replied, smirk still intact.
Wyatt sent her a matching grin, and the two knew they were at agreement.
His mother seemed to be a big fan of abusing her children and forcing them to do hard labor, Chris had decided as he scrubbed rigorously at the wooden floor of the attic. Anything that was cruel and caused her children annoyance and perspiration was the best punishment in her eyes. He wished she would have just given him a simple grounding instead of forcing him to clean out the damn attic.
He dipped the sponge into the soapy liquid that sat in the bucket beside him, squeezing the excess off before taking it back out and beginning to scrub once again. He'd been working on this attic since he got home from Zooey's ballet recital, and after three hours, it seemed like he had only gotten an eighth of his work done. Dried demon guts were terribly hard to get off of wood and the whole concept of him actually scrubbing at the remains of a demon irritated him. All of this scrubbing and lack of booze gave his mind time to wander on his visions, which was even more irritating. He was craving something, anything, that would allow him to escape, but thanks to his mother and her cruel punishment for such a measly offense as staying out just a little too late three nights in a row, he couldn't.
He started scrubbing harder at a stain on the floor, mind fuming over thoughts of his earlier vision. He was still a little freaked by that--well, a little freaked would be an understatement; he insanely frightened. He had never, ever had a vision occur in his waking hours, and the feeling he had, when he was desperately trying to grab onto something, focus on the clapping, and escape it, was horrifying. He could deal with them happening while he was asleep--he knew when to expect it and usually could get himself to wake up--but now, having them randomly and unpredictably in the middle of the day; he didn't know if he could handle that. This shouldn't be happening to him. All he wanted was to be a normal teenager, but no, his heritage wouldn't--couldn't--allow him that one simple thing. Being a Halliwell was a curse.
His hand started scrubbing even harder at the stain that did not seem like it wanted to come out. Dammit, dammit, dammit!, he cursed to himself. He hated these visions, he hated being a witch, he hated his parents, his cousins, his uncles, his aunts, his brother, the Elders, everything! He just wanted everything to be normal, he never asked to be a witch, he never asked to be born, he never asked for these visions.
Chris' features contorted in anger, wrinkles scrunching up against his nose, and he scrubbed even harder at the stained spot on the floor. He suddenly lifted the sponge from off the ground and flung it across the room, standing up and letting his eyes settle on the bucket filled with soapy water. He kicked it, and a flood of water spilled and slid it's way across the wooden floor.
"Fuck this!" Chris cursed, walking over towards the stained glass windows, hands digging in his pocket--shaking with anger--and pulling out his pack of cigarettes. He patted the box and pulled one out, placing it quickly in his mouth and grabbing out his lighter. Once the end of the stick was lit and glowed orange he took a long, soothing drag, hands still shaking as he let out an exhale of smoke. He didn't care if his parents came in and saw him smoking, he didn't care if they grounded him for another month, gave him another part of the house to scrub away at, he just needed a goddamn cigarette and they were not going to stop him.
His eyes wandered over to the puddle of soapy water on the floor as he took another puff and he let out a sigh. He'd have to clean that up, and it was now seeping into the rugs that sat on the floor. He had bigger things to worry about than the small mess he had made in the attic. These visions were happening while he was awake! He needed to solve this problem, because who knew when the next one would occur. He could just drop in the middle of class, or even worse, in front of his parents! He can't handle this anymore, he shouldn't even have to in the first place ...
"Chris?" the faint call of his father's voice could be heard, as well as the sound of his feet climbing their way up the stairs.
"Shit," the boy let out a curse and quickly looked down at his cigarette, then over to the puddle of water that had settled near one of the rugs he had pushed aside. He took one last, frantic puff of his cigarette before causing the half smoked stick to disappear in a swirl of blue and white orbs, sending it somewhere outside of the manor.
His eyes settled back on the puddle of water, and his father's footsteps could be heard getting louder and nearer, "Uh," he ran a hand through his hair, before starting up again, "Though this may be personal gain ... I am really not to blame, the mess was made because I am mentally sick ... so clean this attic, and make it quick ...?"
When the puddle disappeared in a swirl of orbs and the bucket was upright again, filled with the soapy water that had once been on the floor, Chris let out a sigh of relief. He couldn't believe that shit spell had just worked, but he was thankful. He quickly rushed his way back to the bucket and grabbed up the sponge again, kneeling down and proceeding to rub at a spot on the floor right as his father walked in.
"I came to see how it was going," Leo told his son, watching as the boy looked up at him, hand still scrubbing hard at the demon guts that had stained the floor, an annoyed glare gracing his features.
"Great, dad," he replied sarcastically, eyes landing back on the floor where he was scrubbing, trying to see if the stain was gone yet, "just great. I just love scrubbing demon guts off of the floor."
Leo leaned against the doorframe as he crossed his arms, watching as the boy plunged his hand into the water to get the sponge wetter. He couldn't help the smile that had formed on his lips at the word "dad;" he had been waiting to hear that again. Whenever his son called him Leo, it stung at his heart and reminded him of the other Chris, the one who had told him of their estranged relationship and openly expressed his distaste for the ex-Elder. He tried so hard to be a better dad, he would always focus on spending as much time with each son as possible, and he never missed a birthday or school event for either. He would not let his work or anything else get in the way of his family. He felt like he had succeeded in being the father that Chris had deserved; he had made sure to become close with him, to not leave him out of anything, and to always be there for him. Though he and Chris had somewhat drifted apart these last few months, he felt he still had a close relationship with the boy. From the point of Chris' birth (and the other Chris' death) he had been devoted to being a good father and pushing all work aside for his children. He had watched Chris grow up from the toddler who orbed himself around the city, causing his family to run around hectic looking for him, always wearing a smile that just fixed everything when they found him, to the boy he was today--the teenager with a rebellious streak and a hate for all things magic. Though his son was somewhat of a troublemaker at the moment, and the two tended to bat heads more and more lately, he wouldn't give up this time with him. He would be there for Chris, through everything, and he wouldn't neglect his son when the times got tough, because that wasn't what a father did.
"Why are you smiling?" Chris sneered from his place on the floor, his eyebrow raised and features creased in annoyance. He slammed the sponge back down against the floor, causing soapy water to splatter about, gaze still locked on his father.
"No reason," the ex-Elder responded, standing up straight and heading over to his son. The boy turned his gaze back down to the sponge on the ground, and he started scrubbing harder at the floor.
"Your mother said that you could stop cleaning for today. She has dinner ready," he told the boy, watching as he looked up from his spot on the floor, hand stopping it's repetitive movements, "Aunt Phoebe, Uncle Coop, and the twins are joining us."
Chris started up scrubbing again, quickly deciding he would not be joining them. Aunt Phoebe--the nosy empath--and Peyton--the nosy telepath descendant of said empath--would both be there, and he didn't need either of them going into his mind and finding out things they shouldn't know. It was too much of a risk to go down there with his mind as messy as it was right then. He would have to hold up a strong barrier to block both of them, and right now he was exhausted from that vision and having to work on cleaning up the attic all day. He definitely needed more sleep, but he hardly ever got it.
"I think I'll just pass on eating tonight," Chris told his father, throwing the sponge into the bucket as he stood up, "I'm not feeling too good; I think that inhaling all of these cleaning products has made me go lightheaded."
"Chris--" Leo started, arms crossed and ready to fight his son's ridiculous (and obviously untrue) claim.
The boy started his way past his father and to the door, turning quickly to fight off his father's rebuttal, "I've got homework too--a shit-load of History--"
"Christopher!" Leo scolded the boy, "Watch your language!"
"Sorry," the boy held his hands up in defense and rolled his eyes, "but really, I'm going to go get started on that, then get some well needed rest so I can wake up all refreshed and ready to spend another day bathing in the fumes of cleaning chemicals."
"Chris!" Leo called again, but it was too late. The youngest Halliwell had disappeared from sight and quickly stomped his way down the stairs. The faint sound of the boy's bedroom door shutting could be heard, and Leo let out a sigh, eyes falling onto the bucket filled with soapy water.
Piper wouldn't be pleased with this: for one, she had made Chris' favorite--lasagna--as a sort of peace treaty between the two. She wanted to get along again, she missed the time when she and Chris were close and the boy actually spent time with the family. Also, it would hurt Phoebe to see Chris skipping out on dinner. The way Chris had looked at her that morning, with such dislike and distrust--had hurt her. She had been very close to Chris, and when he got his premonitions, she was there to help him through it all. She had helped him deal with it, she was empathetic towards his feelings and she understood how some of things he saw were terrifying and hard to watch, but they could change what they saw--she had taught him that. Chris had become close with both aunts, but Phoebe would always be the one who had helped him with his magical life the most.
Leo heard Piper call his name from down below, and with that, the man turned and started his way down the stairs, knowing he would have to explain why Chris would not be joining them and be met by two disappointed looks from his wife and his sister-in-law--a sad, but common, sight now-a-days.
Thank you all so much for reading, and I hope you all review!
I will try to get the next chapter up as soon as possible, but first, I need to write it, haha. Trying to work on two Fanfics at the same time (plus another story for my Advanced Composition class) is incredibly hard. I will work on this as much as i can, though, and try to spilt my time between my Gilmore Girl's story and this one.
Thank you again for reading, and please review!
:)
