Chris Chronicles

A/N: I know, I know… FINALLY! But what can I say? Life happens.

Wyatt had two tasks in life ordained by fate: To be the most powerful magical being in all existence, and to be an awesome big brother. Sure the first one had been explicitly prophesized, but the second was a given; having someone there to protect them was God's gift to little siblings since time's first twilight. The latter job sat in Wyatt as the most important.

And how many times had Chris died to save Wyatt from a great evil so far? So far just once when Wyatt was still a toddler, but that was once too many already. Wyatt meant to turn the world inside out to prevent it from happening again. He refused to allow such an atrocity to occur in front of his eyes while he stood helplessly nearby.

Wyatt gazed across the room at Chris. Leo and Piper were in bed to get as much rest as they could manage (aka: they probably weren't sleeping at all. Most likely they either stared at the ceiling from bed or tossed around.) while Wyatt kept vigil at Chris' sickbed. Chris' deathbed, a cruel part of Wyatt's brain corrected. His brother- his best friend for life!- laid as still and silent as a rock. The cold voice struck again. Or a corpse… No, no, never!

Wyatt sat at Chris's desk and was attempting to work on some statistics assignment. He had the lamp on a low setting so as not to disturb the bed's occupant. Wyatt suspected that he could blow up everything in the room and still not disturb Chris.

Chris' face looked ghastly. The light threw harsh shadows under and around facial features. Suddenly Chris moaned in his sleep. Wyatt showed up by his side in a flash. Lids previously cemented together slid apart.

"Wy?"

"Where does it hurt?" Wyatt perched at the edge of the bed.

"I'm fine," Chris protested. His actions belied his words. Every one of his muscles strained tight against their epidermis boundary.

"you don't look fine. Thirsty? Hungry? Need some meds?"

The ghost of a smile flickered across Chris' face. "I don't think Advil will help much, but go give it a try." Wyatt helped pour the medicine tablets and water down Chris' throat. "I need a distraction," Chris said, grimacing. He indicated his desk. "What were you doing over there?"

"I'm working on stat. It doesn't matter anyway. I've been stuck on the same problem for the past hour.

"Let me see."

Wyatt retrieved his textbook and supplies while Chris turned on the light behind his head.

"I told you it was impossible," Wyatt said after Chris stared at the problem for a good couple of minutes.

"I don't know," Chris answered. "It wouldn't be so hard if you had gotten the standard deviation right. You plugged in all the wrong numbers because of that." Wyatt peered at the paper.

"Of course!" He exclaimed. He took ereaser to paper and smattered on new, correct answers. "Hmm, so what do these numbers tell me," Wyatt wondered out loud. He absently tapped his pencil against his cheek.

"Duh Wyatt. Reject the null hypothesis and conclude that there is a significant improvement in out patients. Geesh, and to think you want to be a doctor. I wouldn't let you near me when you can't even do elementary statistics of medicine." Chris smiled to let Wyatt know he was just teasing.

The smile morphed suddenly into a grimace of pain. Arm, leg, and torso muscles trembled in agony. Innately, Wyatt stretched out his hand and massaged Chris' forearm with long fingers. The trembling lessened slightly. "Harder," demanded Chris. Wyatt increased the pressure. The shaking area around Chris' forearm subsided. Chris took his left hand and started to rub hard on his calves where the pain was most overwhelming. He didn't do a very good job of it though because his fingers shook too hard to be any real help.

Wyatt's hand pushed Chris' away. "I'll do that." Slowly, on rub at a time, the agony in Chris' body was ameliorated everywhere save for his back. Wyatt scooted Chris forward and slid behind him so that Chris' back faced Wyatt's front and Wyatt's legs straddled on either side of Chris.

"I feel like I'm five," Chris grumbled half-heartedly. He didn't dare tell his brother to stop, though. He didn't want the pain to come back full force. His back rub was relaxing him back into sleep. His state of mind was more out of awareness than in it. "After I die," Chris said. Wyatt's hands clenched. Chris did not notice. "Be careful. I won't be around to save you anymore."

"You shouldn't have had to in the past." Bitterness made Wyatt's tone hard.

"Don't be silly. It's what I was born to do. You were born to save the world from evil, and I was born to save you."

"Shut up Chris."

"Don't be upset. That's just how it is."

"Of course I'm upset. I'm 'upset' that you're dying, I'm upset that you're okay with it, and I'm upset as heck that you think so little of yourself."

"Come on Wyatt," Chris teased. "We're big boys now. You can say "hell"."

"Stop joking," snapped Wyatt.

Chris got serious. "I'm sorry. I just don't know how else to act… what else to say… I have a headache and it's hard to do the conversation/ talking thing."

"Just tell me that you don't really want to die."

"I've accepted my fate." Chris paused before he actually admitted his feelings. Curiously, his intense headache made his words begin to run together. He lay prone.

"I don't want to die," Chris slurred out, sage eyes dark with pain.

Wyatt closed his eyes helplessly and tightened his grip on his little brother. "I won't let you," he vowed. Surely Charmed power combined with his would be enough. It had to be.

Long after Chris fell asleep, Wyatt stared grimly into the pitch of night. He couldn't imagine a life without his stubborn, smart, and smart-aleck brother. Chris refused to let them take away his powers and leave them vulnerable, fine. But whatever sacrifice was needed to keep Chris alive, Wyatt would do it. Whatever price was demanded, Wyatt would pay no matter the cost.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

"Mommy, is your premonition of Chris dying coming true?" Pandora looked up from her coloring book at her mother.

"No SweetPea," said Phoebe.

"What's going to happen to change it?"

Phoebe forced a too bright smile. "We don't know yet."

"But," Pandora started.

"You know what Sweetie," Phoebe interjected. "Why don't you go watch cartoons in the conservatory?"

"Okay!" The little girl jumped up and ran out of the living room.

As soon as child was out of earshot, Phoebe turned and buried her head into Paige's shoulder. Both were seated on a couch in the manor's living room. Phoebe bleated, "My vision IS going to come true unless we find a way to stop it."

Paige's eyes started to burn and water. "This is the second time I've had to watch him die."

"Poor Piper and Leo," Phoebe sniffed.

"And poor Wyatt," Paige added.

Phoebe agreed, "He might soon be the only Halliwell boy." They heard the front door open. A cute blonde in her thirties walked into sight.

"Billie?"

"Oh, hey guys." Billie Jenkins was obviously just as surprised to see Paige and Phoebe as they were to see her. "I'd thought you'd be…" She trailed off.

"What are you doing here?"

"To see how Chris is doing of course."

Phoebe scooted over to make room for Billie. "You are such a darling. He's not doing so well. Paige and I were just about-"

"Uh, I want to hear all about it, but I really have to go upstairs and use the bathroom." The woman skittered up the stairs and out of sight.

"Denial," Phoebe said wisely.

Paige told Phobe, "This is kind of changing the subject, but I couldn't help but notice that "Ask Phoebe" is awful bleak lately lady."

"I know. I know I'm not supposed to, but it's hard to help that my column reflects how I feel. And I'm feeling pretty morose."

"I've always known that. Like when Wyatt was born you didn't write about anything but baby stuff. Before this current fiasco started, your column was all lovey-dovey puppies and rainbows."

"I miss those days." Phoebe looked up wistfully at the ceiling.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Billie, up here," Wyatt hissed from his perch on the attic stairs.

Billie rushed up to him. He grabbed her wrist. "Let's go."

The woman dug her heels into the carpet treads. "Hold on a second. Let's talk about this. I still think that this is a really, really bad idea."

Wyatt stared at her. He stated simply, "It's the only way." Billie recognized the desperation on Wyatt's face that must have been on her own face in all the time she searched for Christie. She remembered the pain and devastation she felt when her sister died, and she and Christie weren't near as close as Wyatt and Chris. Billie didn't want Wyatt to feel those emotions so intensely.

"Okay, just so long as it's out there."

ZzZzZzZzZzZzZzZ

"What the F-?!" Chris dodged a fireball just in time and rolled to the relative safety of a dumpster.

Sulna didn't look at him. Instead she focused on freezing adversaries as they came. She bit out, "What were you saying about this being an 'easy, two-person' job?"

Chris said defensively as he made a blade fly into a witch's chest, "It was supposed to be. I don't know why Demons and Witches are working together on this case." Sulna was about to reply, but she never got the chance. A shock of lightning went through her being. Just like that, she was dead.

"Great," Chris groused. "One versus twenty. Those are good odds."

Kicks, Tks, jabs, and stabs flowed from the witchlighter. Six down, about fourteen to go. A witch with Pyrokenisis threw a large, man-size flamethrower at Chris' back. He was so absorbed in whipping on two demons that he didn't see it coming. He sure felt it, however, when flames engulfed his being.

That was the moment Chris knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would die; never see his cousin or grandfather again, never save his brother.

He waited for the final blow to take wipe him from the planet. It never came. Chris' burned eyes could barely see. Someone shimmered into the room. Chris did not know what occured next. Time meant nothing due to the burns on his skin and in his organs. It took awhile for him to connect that someone was speaking to him.

"You're going to be fine."

He wasn't going to die? A part of him was disappointed. But who saved him? He willed himself to see through skilleted eyes. Limp bodies and piles of ash were deposited helter skelter. That didn't matter. What mattered was the person leaning over him. Long, brunette hair brushed a raw cheek. It felt like a thousand needles digging into his flesh rather than the silky hair it looked like.

"Bianca?" A mixture of surprise and burned vocal chords made his voice sound extremely raw. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Obviously I felt like saving your helpless ass."

"I was doing fine." Chris didn't need the sense of sight to see her roll her eyes.

"Whatever. You macho man you." She shimmered away. Only the soft hiss of burning ash interuppted the silence in her wake.

Chris stayed there longer. Hoping against hope that he would die from his injuries so that he could stop fighting for a lost cause. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on how one could look at it, his blistering wounds were not fatal. They were only extremely painful; a ten on the painscale that doctors make patients point at.

Chris orbed away.