Author's Notes: Believe it or not, this chapter was NOT as long as I thought it was going to be. But, I realized that by shortening the POVs from four to one, the length of the chapter would shrink considerably. I find it hard to go from POV to POV, so I figure that's the case with everyone. I fidgeted with this chapter throughout the week, so I'm hoping that you'll all enjoy it! This is a very pivotal chapter, too, and one that some of you have been waiting for. ;) I won't say any more than that.

bamf2me: Hahaha! (that was an evil laugh, just so you know...) I love converting people to new pairings, especially ones I'm fond of, like these boys! It sounds like you're really enjoying the story, and for that, I'm all sorts of glad. Thanks for your review. :D I think you'll find this chapter very much to your liking.

Blueeyesbetter: Wonder what you'll think of this chapter! ;)

Zane: Isn't it? You're the only one who knows what's to come, so you'll probably find it interesting. The next chapter is...oh, man. It's the late night scene. That's all I can say! 3

Destatikai: Well, that makes me a happy camper! I haven't written smutty/lemony things in a story for...gosh, ages. And these two will have more to come, but I try to make it not quite as distasteful as some of them out there. I'm glad you were able to read the last one! And I agree entirely. Dean really was the driving force in that last chapter. I just wanted to give everyone a chance to see it from both sides. Dean and Chris are much more similar than they realize, and I hope that it shows when I do the POV switches. :)

GayRon: Glad to hear you loved it! There's more to come, so keep around :D

Without further ado, chapter eight!


Chris sat on his bed in his room, reading a book about hexes with unwavering fervency. He had been researching for hours, having not yet taken a break because of the rare fact that he had privacy. Such a thing didn't really exist in the Halliwell household, and when one got it, one often clutched onto it with the Jaws of Life.

But that privacy, which had begun that afternoon, soon dwindled away. Chris had paid no heed to night falling, only realizing it when Wyatt wandered into their shared bedroom, moving toward his bed to kick off his shoes. He had a bag of Lay's potato chips in tow.

Rubbing his eyes, the young witch asked, "When did you get home?"

The look Wyatt gave him seemed distant. It took him a moment before he responded, "Just got home. Why?" Here he shifted on his bed, and Chris noticed him staring at the book sprawled across his lap. Wyatt sat up and blinked. "What're you studying so hard?"

Chris shifted on his bed, closing the book in his lap and setting it to his right. "Just brushing up on some stuff," he said with a shrug and a dismissive look on his face. "I've been kind of lax lately keeping up on new spells and hexes out there, and I want to make sure that if we come across anyone who tries to use them, we'll be prepared."

He turned his attention to Wyatt then, noting the somewhat heavy appearance to his brother's distracted stare. "What's wrong?"

Wyatt huffed quietly. He nibbled on a few chips before deciding to answer. "I just got back from talking to Sam. He asked me if I knew any way to break a contract with a demon." He wrinkled up his nose.

Was that all?

"Aunt Paige has done that, sort of," Chris replied thoughtfully. He remembered reading as a child about how she had given up her soul in exchange for an innocent's, then had managed to both kill the demon and nullify the contract with the help of their mother and Aunt Phoebe. "Why does he need to break a contract?"

That didn't seem like something Sam would worry about. But Chris didn't know Sam like Wyatt did…just like Wyatt didn't know Dean like Chris did.

"She didn't exactly break that contract…she made a new one for her soul. She would have had to honor it if Mom and Aunt Phoebe hadn't helped her kill that demon." Turning to Chris again, Wyatt ran his tongue over his lips, licking off the salt from the chips. "And…Sam needs it for Dean, apparently. He said part of the deal was that Dean couldn't actually do anything for himself. If Dean tries to break his contract, then Sam dies, so…"

Wyatt shook his head and shoved another chip into his mouth, crunching it and knitting his eyebrows like it was a riddle he was trying to solve in the Sunday paper.

There were so many loaded words in that sentence that Chris didn't know how to take it all in. At first he appeared confused, but shortly after that he shifted to surprise.

"Wait," he said slowly, intonation flat. "Why does he need to break a contract."

This…no, Chris thought.

No, it couldn't be what he was thinking. And if it was, so help him...

Wyatt sighed. "Sam said that a while back—almost a year ago, I think it was—some really bad stuff happened. You remember a year ago, when things started going a little crazy?" There had been a spike in demonic activity at that time that even the Halliwells had been hard pressed to put down. "Well…Sam and Dean were smack dab in the middle of that and Sam…well…died, I guess. Apparently Dean went and sold his soul to bring him back." While Wyatt spoke he spread his hands in a helpless gesture, disbelief on his face. "Instead of giving him the normal ten years this demon apparently gives, she only gave him one, and it's coming due pretty damn soon, according to Sam. He's desperate to find a way to get Dean out of it. Thought we might help."

Hearing what Wyatt said was almost as if a bomb had gone off inside Chris. He was seeing red in his mind, among many other things. He stayed quiet for what felt like ever, but when he finally spoke, it was with an incredulous tone that rang with near betrayal.

"You mean he offered up his soul for his brother and now Sam's trying to find a way to get it back?"

But Chris didn't wait for Wyatt to respond. He ignored the irritated expression on his brother's face. "I'm going to find out more about this myself." In just a moment's time he orbed up and out of their bedroom and straight to the hotel room Dean and Sam called home.

The dark haired witch wasn't sure what he was feeling then; maybe frustration, maybe fury, or maybe he just felt full on homicidal. Dean hadn't told him about any of this, and while he really couldn't expect him to, after that moment they had had talking about their brothers and what they did for their family all that time ago…how he could go and do something so stupid was beyond Chris.

Upon his arrival he noted that Sam and Dean were sitting at the small kitchenette table, burgers and fries sprawled out over the surface. The younger hunter wore a look of pleasant surprise, and in a friendly voice he said, "Chris! Hey!"

Chris, staring so viciously at Dean he practically seethed, didn't respond. Sam shied away.

Dean shot Sam a brief glance before settling his eyes on Chris. He put on a slight smile, clearing his throat. "Hey…we were just getting ready to eat. You want a beer?"

Why Chris felt so enraged, he wasn't quite sure. But his mind was on autopilot now, and what happened felt almost like a blur.

He snapped, "I don't drink."

He wanted to spring forward and start shaking Dean—shake him until he admitted that what he had done was painfully stupid and completely moronic. Of course, because of this anger, he soon found himself with that feeling of arousal squirming around inside of him. Through some miracle he managed to suppress it. It only increased his exasperation.

"Guess it doesn't matter how much you drink, though," he remarked, snide.

Confusion struck Dean's features. He looked to Sam once more before swallowing and shrugging weakly. "Chill out, it's just a couple of beers…" he murmured, a wry smile working its way onto his face. To prove his point he took a sip from his bottle, then tilted the head toward Chris.

That seemed to be the straw that broke the camel's back. "Chill out? Chill out?" Chris threw his hands at his sides, tone incredulous. "I'll chill out when I find out why the hell you even thought it was smart to make a deal with a demon!"

Dean, who at the beginning of the onslaught had backed up a little in his chair and widened his eyes, soon took on a somber look, sending a disappointed frown at his brother. He turned to Chris. "I'm not pretending it was smart," he defended himself. He worked his jaw a little, as if he were trying not to start yelling. "It was necessary."

Chris failed to see the incredibly shameful look on Sam's face, so focused as he was on Dean. He was also so heavily into his yelling that he missed the swirling collection of orbs that formed into Wyatt nearby. "I don't even know what the hell you were thinking! For someone who's apparently as savvy in the supernatural as you, you'd think you'd be able to figure out how to get things without giving up your own soul in the process!"

Dean launched himself up from his chair and moved toward Chris, his breath growing shallow and his face flushed. He glared at the younger one. "It's my soul. I can do what I want with it," he sneered. "What's it to you, anyway? Now you don't have to worry about some freakin' hex. Like I said: just let it go, and it'll fix itself, soon enough."

"Maybe because I don't want you to die!"

Chris's enraged outburst was so sudden that he didn't even realize it was out until after he had said it. He covered his mouth immediately afterward, both appearing and feeling disgustingly horrified with himself.

His shouting hushed Dean, who remained silent for a while, just like Sam and Wyatt. These two each showed their discomfort and uncertainty in their own unique way, with Sam's lips pursed tightly and Wyatt's eyebrows knitted together.

"I don't want to die, either," Dean murmured after a moment, frowning and staring at Chris. "But I couldn't let Sammy die, either." His eyes remained locked on the one across from him.

When it came down to it, Chris could understand. He would risk his own life if it meant saving his brother or his sister. He was a hypocrite that way. And, he knew that he had no grounds whatsoever to tell Dean what to do and what not to do with his soul. But the angered lust building up inside of him told him otherwise, as irrational and confusing as it was.

It was just him and Dean right then and there. His eyes were locked on the other's.

"We'll get you out of it," he said, a very sound sense of determination in his voice. "I swear to God."

"I can't back out of it, Chris. If I even try, then Sam dies. I'm sorry." Dean sighed, shoulders slumping. He continued staring at the witch, his expression a mix of quite a few emotions, but regret remained the most prevalent.

While the majority of the feelings welling up inside of Chris at that moment were due to the hex, there were still things mulling about within that weren't, and he knew that they had influenced his outburst. He and Dean had bonded in a very odd way, both physically and emotionally, and maybe he had taken it to mean more than Dean had.

All he knew was that the apology carried a lot, and he felt it.

"You don't know what I'm capable of," Chris said, his voice quiet.

He was the son of a Charmed One. He was a powerful witch in his own, and with his siblings, he was one of the strongest forces of good on the planet. He would be damned if he couldn't break a contract with a demon somehow. He abruptly looked down, rubbing his eyes. He wasn't crying, but his eyes felt like they stung a little, and the pressure against them helped to alleviate it.

For a moment everything remained uncomfortably tense. Sam and Wyatt watched, curiosity gripping them, while Dean stood there awkwardly. Finally he couldn't seem to help himself. Tilting his head, he shifted, then reached out to grab a fistful of Chris's shirt, near at his shoulder. He used that to pull the witch closer, wrapping one arm around his shoulders. He leaned his own head down beside the darker one.

It was the sort of hug Dean gave Sam sometimes, when he didn't know what else to do or say, although Chris didn't know that. All he knew was that it was comforting.

Wyatt cleared his throat and took a hesitant step forward when Dean took Chris into the hug. He looked uncomfortable, and he half-lifted up the book Chris had been reading before he dropped it helplessly to his thigh.

Sam verbalized their confusion. He, too, cleared his throat, but louder than Wyatt had. "Hey, guys, what's…going on?"

His words shattered the tender moment. Chris had just given the older hunter a small, relieved smile, but after Sam's words he turned his attention toward him, the smile fading as he finally realized that his brother was there now, too.

"What?" he asked, ignoring the way his heart fell into the pit of his stomach. It didn't help any that Dean pulled away from him then, leaving him feeling strangely unsupported.

Stepping closer, Wyatt once again lifted the book he had in his hand. "I think I know what happened." He eyed Chris. "They've been hexed, from what I was able to get out of Chris's sudden crash course in this book. It's some kind of strange love hex." He frowned, brimming with discomfort that the younger witch could feel.

That didn't do anything to ease Chris's own discomfort, however. For some reason this felt to him almost like he was stuck in the middle…like had to choose between Dean and Wyatt, with his brother being so close and Dean remaining not too far away, either.

"That's what's going on," he finally said, pointing to Wyatt while looking at Sam, who appeared pensive.

"Wait," Sam began, reaching up to the side of his head. "Did this—this happened when we saved that kid, didn't it? I remember you two acting weird afterward…"

"We didn't know what happened," Dean broke in. "It was when Chris came after me. When we got knocked over, it just…" He moved away from Chris then, although he first hesitated in doing so. "It's just a hex, Sammy. Nothing's wrong with me, okay?" He took his brother by the back of the neck and stared at him hard in the eyes. "We were gonna fix it. I didn't want you to worry about me."

Chris watched as Dean and Sam stared so intently at one another. There was something in Sam's eyes, something that made the young witch uncertain and almost ill at ease. Sam soon pulled back from Dean and reached up, rubbing his hands over his own face.

"You should know by now that it's my right to do whatever I want," he murmured quietly. "And that includes worrying about you."

This whole situation was becoming way too much, Chris thought. That everyone knew what was going on made him feel anxious. Plus, Wyatt's obvious attempt to protect him from Dean bristled his feathers more than he thought it would. Despite the appreciation he had for his brother's concern, he felt it unnecessary.

"I was gonna scry," he told Wyatt. "I was gonna try and take care of it."

Before Wyatt had a chance to respond, Dean grumbled out, "Damn it, Sam. This is friggin' stupid. You know this deal can't be broken without you dying, and I'm not gonna let that happen. And now I have to deal with this hex, and all I wanted to do was take care of it without you getting all worked up over it!"

The older hunter threw his hands up in an 'I give up' sort of motion, turning away from Sam and starting toward Chris. But Wyatt stood in the way now, and so he let out a frustrated sound, took hold of his chair and thrust it with a clatter back under the table.

"We'll figure it out!" Chris shouted out of the blue. Though what he was referring to, even he didn't know. It might have been the hex, it might have been the contract, or it might have been both. He wasn't willing to get up in arms about it, not now that things had come to a head like they did. It would be pointless.

Looking almost angry at all of them, the dark haired witch stepped away from his brother, Dean and Sam and moved toward the nearest empty space, which happened to be the bed. He felt trapped, almost, and so he took a seat on it, trying to relax.

"We'll figure it out," he repeated, his voice much quieter this time.

Sam broke the following silence by murmuring, "We need all the help we can get, Dean, whether you like it or not."

Dean lifted his hand and pushed his fingers against his eyelids, rubbing them. "Yeah, Sammy…I know that. I just…I can't be a part of this. I can't risk it." He stared at Sam with a pained expression. He made a tentative move toward Chris, watching Wyatt from the corner of his eye. When the blond didn't stop him, he took a seat on the bed, just a bit away from the younger witch.

"Chris is right," Wyatt said with a sigh. He kept his eyes on Dean as he spoke. "We'll figure something out. Right now, the contract is more pressing. Let's focus on that first."

"I'm not losing you," Sam announced, staring at his brother. "You know that."

Dean sounded drained as he replied, "I know, Sammy."

Chris ran a hand through his hair. "There's too much at stake, here. We'll have to be real careful. You'll have to tell us everything you both know." He glanced at Wyatt. "Or Wyatt can tell me, I guess, since you already told him, Sam. Maybe we should just get home so we can get on this." Here he looked at Dean, wanting to reach out and touch him. But he couldn't tell if that was the hex, or if it was something else.

Dean looked at him. While it was true that Sam had dibs on the lost puppy dog eyes, the older hunter took the cake on intense stares of repressed longing. For a moment they were both still, but then Dean's hand slid across the comforter toward the witch's, and he laced their fingers together in a loose embrace. He smiled just slightly at it, but it disappeared quickly thereafter.

"Yeah, let's get home, Chris," Wyatt agreed, sharing a brief, but telling, glance with Sam before moving toward the two on the bed.

Chris tried his hardest not to give a pathetic laugh. He felt that way, like star crossed lovers or something, what with the way that Sam was looking at him and the way Wyatt was inching his way in to separate the two of them. It was the attitude of their brothers that made Chris grip Dean's hand tighter. It was his way of saying 'fuck it' to both of their siblings, neither of whom seemed to really understand what was going on with them.

But now he was regretting saying that they needed to go home. Touching Dean had now made it a bad decision, and a hard one to enforce.

"We'll do everything from our end, here," Sam said, moving over toward the bed and clasping Dean's shoulder with his hand. "Just let us know if you come up with anything."

Moving to closer to the bed, Wyatt leaned across it and took hold of Chris's elbow, the one that wasn't connected to the hand holding the hunter's. He tugged it back a little. "Come on, Chris, let's go, huh? We need to look into this and see if there's anything we can do."

Honestly, at that moment, Chris thought his brother was more concerned with getting him and Dean apart than trying to save the older hunter. That soured him a little, but he went with it. What else could he do? It would start a fight. He didn't need that right now. He was just too tired.

"Keep us updated," Sam said, giving Wyatt a nod.

Dean seemed reluctant to release Chris's hand, but the insistent, gentle tugging of Wyatt eventually forced him to. Dean and Chris shared one more look before everything went somewhat fuzzy. The next thing Chris saw was the surroundings of his and Wyatt's bedroom.

When he saw the way Wyatt was eying him, he felt like screaming, "I'm not going anywhere!" but decided against it. He had no intent to orb back to the hotel—not with Sam around. He could tell the younger hunter was irritated and concerned about what had happened with his brother, and Chris's presence was probably unwelcome.

"All right, Chris," Wyatt sighed. "This…has got to be the most fucked up thing ever." He crossed his arms over his chest.

Chris, too, folded his arms over his chest. "It's a Trickster. Dean told me. I don't know why it's not in the Book of Shadows. Mom and them must have never come across one...or anyone else in our family."

"Trickster?" Wyatt took a seat on the edge of his bed. Something in his tone led Chris to believe that he must have not liked the idea of Dean knowing something he didn't. It felt weird, but Chris found amusement in that thought. He respected Wyatt's knowledge of all things magical. Sometimes, though, his brother could be a real show off. Being humbled would do him some good.

Wyatt continued in a mutter, rubbing his fingers over his forehead, "Yeah…well, that complicates things a little, huh?"

"There's probably something about them in the books at Magic School. That's where I got those…." Chris pointed to the books resting beside his bed. With an exhausted wave of his hand he used his power to organize them, floating them over toward their desk and into a neat pile.

About this time he looked back at Wyatt, not really knowing what he would say next. He was expecting his brother to freak out on him, but he didn't know why.

"Well. That's where we go, then, as soon as we figure out what to do about this Trickster problem. Until then, we shouldn't worry about the hex, huh? We should focus on the contract." Wyatt paused and looked at Chris after speaking, as if trying to gauge his reaction. There was worry glinting in his eyes, and it made the younger witch a little annoyed.

"We'll find stuff at magic school for that, too, I bet," Chris said, sounding a little distant. He avoided Wyatt's gaze afterward, not wanting to see any more of that concern.

He didn't like this concept of Dean having traded his soul for Sam's. It hurt him in ways that it shouldn't have, which set off many alarms in Chris's head. He hadn't ever felt this way before; it was unchartered territory for him. He had Wyatt to help him now, but something told him that his brother wouldn't be there one hundred percent.

Wyatt pressed his lips together and let a breath out his nose, continuing to watch Chris. Chris felt stupid, knowing that his avoiding his gaze was a dead ringer that there was more to this than he was letting on. When mad, Chris usually did a lot of glaring, particularly right at Wyatt—right into his eyes. It was too late to recover, and surely by now Wyatt had deduced that there was more to this than just the hex.

He tried to recover nonetheless. "I…" Chris paused. He failed, and miraculously. "I think we should check it out in a little bit. Mostly because...I don't really know what to think right now."

"Well, Chris…" Wyatt started, knitting his eyebrows and shifting a little on the bed. Chris could tell he wanted to push the envelope further. What Wyatt said next reminded him as to why he confided these types of things to his brother. "If you wanna?"

"I do," he agreed with a slow nod. He moved onto his bed after a moment's time, feeling that anxious sensation coursing through him still. The sooner they figured this out, the better. Right now, however, he just wasn't sure he could give it his all after what he knew, and after what had just happened.

"We'll go first thing tomorrow, okay?" Wyatt suggested. "You don't have classes, and I don't really want to go to mine, anyway." He smiled encouragingly. "We'll look up stuff on the demon and on the hex. Kill two birds with one stone so we don't have to make another trip."

Chris didn't give Wyatt a lot of credit when it was really due; he was a great older brother majority of the time, and put up with a lot of Chris's shit. This was just more of that, and again he was dealing with it. He was truly lucky to have someone like Wyatt on his side. He smiled back, easy going and thankful.

"Yeah, we can do that, then. Sounds good."

*

Once Sam was sure that both Chris and Wyatt were gone, he finally let go of Dean's shoulder and moved back just enough to stare at him. He said nothing, eying his brother with heavy scrutiny. Was there more to this than just the hex itself? He hoped to God there wasn't.

What scared him was that he couldn't actually tell now.

Dean didn't appreciate the near scowl, which he sent back at Sam with a sharp, "What?" He stood up abruptly and headed back to the table, picking up his burger and taking an aggressive bite.

Don't try acting like you didn't just hold some guy's—some witch guy's—hand! Sam thought in a burst of sudden frustration. Instead of voicing it, however, he rubbed his eyes, inquiring, "It is just the hex, right?"

He had to make sure. He couldn't deal with not knowing if there was more to it than that, especially since he figured that was the one sure thing he knew about Dean: it was pretty obvious, or so he hoped, that his brother was straight. But this had the potential to throw that all out the window.

Dean made a face after swallowing the bite in his mouth. "You think it's something else?"

Sam didn't catch the flush in his brother's cheeks, only him taking another bite of his burger.

"I don't know what to think, Dean," he said seriously. "I'd like to think it's just the hex, but why in the hell did you grab his hand?" So much for that staying in. "That's not something you'd do. I don't—" Sam stammered to a stop, wanting to says several things about which he quickly changed his mind. He settled on, "I just...don't know."

The older hunter all but threw his mutilated hamburger back onto the wrapper on the table, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth. He glared. "It's like I can't keep my hands to myself, Sam. It's not me, okay?" he grumbled, in an obvious attempt to sound believable.

But Dean could never lie to Sam, and Sam didn't appreciate the attempt to do so. He watched his brother pace from the table to the bed, and then back again, picking up his beer. "It's the hex, Sam…it's just the hex. I'm not into dick, all right?"

"Tricksters don't usually cause people to randomly grab other peoples' hands in times of crisis." But Sam held his hands up defensively in the universal gesture of defeat, so that Dean knew he wasn't going to argue it further. "But, fine. You say you aren't, I'll believe you." But could he?

Dean narrowed his eyes and huffed. "Look, just…it's not like I want to be all over this guy, Sam. He's irritating as fuck, and he can get so damn…pompous, like he's better just because he's a witch, or something." He ran a hand over his face and twitched just slightly, as if he had experienced a shiver running up his spine. "Jesus."

By now, Sam had taken full inventory in the different way Dean not only looked, but also acted. It scared him that Chris and this hex had such a powerful grasp on his brother.

Discomfort etched onto his face. Sam said, "Let's just stop talking about him." His tone implied that they needed to just drop it. He didn't want to talk about Chris any more, or think about either of the witches, even despite Wyatt's agreement to help. He was growing uncomfortable, and he didn't know what they were going to do now that things were so mixed up.

Maybe I shouldn't have gone to them for help, he thought.

But he was just so desperate.…

Somewhat to his surprise, Dean agreed. "Yeah. I think that'd be a good idea." He plucked at his shirt, looking awkward. Had Sam known he was thinking about what he and Chris had done just a few days previous, he would have blown a gasket.

As it was, he was content to let the situation float away. There were times when he needed to talk about things right when they happened—it was what angered Dean so badly sometimes—but now, Sam was definitely taking the other's approach by sitting back and pretending it didn't exist, at least for now.

Sam reached down toward the table and grabbed his burger, a little irritated that it had become kind of soggy and cold. He still took a large bite out of it, though, and taking it along with him, he headed back over to the bed and grabbed his laptop from atop the nightstand. He was going to surf the web.