The Second First Born

N.B.I hope you're in it for the long haul! Please R&R! Also, disclaimer. I don't own Charmed, the show or any of the original characters.

Hardly daring to breath, he pressed his back firmly against the scored stone walls. He could hear the low rumble of voices just around the next corner, and one of them was familiar, uncomfortably so.

He slowly edged sideways, placing each footfall carefully like a cat. He closed his eyes, and with his head turned upwards prayed that they couldn't hear his heart pounding in his chest.

As he got to the corner, he took a deep breath as if he were about to dive into water. Fear fleetingly froze him to the spot and he considered turning away, letting it be, today of all days…

A sudden silence brought him out of his apprehension, as the voices seemed to dissipate into nothing. He sighed, partly relieved, but there was a part of him that dreaded what would happen next. He turned his head, and he peered around the corner.

The little light that flickered came from a small group of candles that were sat at one end of the chamber. Stood in front of them was a teenage boy, with short blonde hair.
He noted the boy's blackened silhouette, contrasting heavily with the warm glow of the candlelight. Black aura for a blackened heart, he thought coldly.

'Chris, it's rude to stare…' a voice broke the silence, and the final word reverberated around the high ceiling. Chris's eyes snapped into the back of the boy's head in shock. How did he know…?

'How I know, and what I know are my own business…unlike you…'
The figure turned and Chris could see the sadistic smile that was captured upon his face. Hatred shot through his body, drowning out everything he had felt…he felt sick.

'How can you stand there smiling, how can you do this today?' he demanded.
He could feel hot tears begin to prickle behind his eyes, but he blinked them back.

'Chris, if you want to cry, then go ahead. After all, it is a very sad day…' the boy stated, using a tone of voice purposefully intended to provoke him.

It evidently worked, as Chris returned a look of pure contempt, 'Mom isn't even cold in the ground…'
The boy looked back, stonily, 'Don't give me that Chris…I turned up didn't I?'

Chris said, 'No, actually. You were late, you made a scene during the service…'
The boy interrupted, 'The 'service' was a complete joke anyway. Since when do witches take to hanging around churches?'

Chris raised an eyebrow, 'Wyatt, look around you. You're stood in a crypt, making deals with demons…you can't even be counted as a witch anymore…'

Realisation dawned over Chris, and he stared at Wyatt, 'Those demons…they're…' he trailed off, not wanting to say it. Wyatt looked back coldly, 'What are you talking about?'

Chris stuttered, a fresh set of tears reforming behind his eyes, 'Those were the demons that came that night…they ki...killed them…'
Wyatt suddenly took in what Chris was saying, 'No…'

Chris pointed an accusing finger at Wyatt, 'They came to meet…you. This was all your fault…'
Wyatt's voice got louder and louder, 'Don't you dare put that on my head!'

Chris yelled back, 'I saw them! In the kitchen…'
Wyatt said, his voice quieter again, 'End of conversation, Chris.

Disgust built up even more inside of Chris and all the pain he had felt over the past few days needed an outlet, someway to escape from inside.
All the times he wanted to scream, tell everyone that he wasn't coping, that he didn't want to live this way anymore…

'You asshole…' he growled, before flinging his arm outwards. Wyatt yelled as he was lifted off his feet and was sent flying backwards, directly across the chamber.
His back struck a high stone shelf that jutted out from the flat marble wall, and he fell to the ground.

Chris walked over to where Wyatt fell, on his front and struggling to remain conscious. Chris grabbed him by his neck and lifted him up, fury clouding his every judgement, and his mind was screaming for him to hurt him, make him understand how it was meant to feel…

Pinning him to the wall by his neck, he raised his hand and clenched his fist.
As if time slowed, he saw himself with Wyatt, saw him ready to strike. He saw himself, just seconds ago, throw him across the room, and watched the shock develop upon Wyatt's face as he hit the jagged rock.

It was like a release and he let go of Wyatt's neck, reeling with panic. Wyatt steadied himself on the wall before lifting up his head slightly and staring at Chris through seething eyes, 'That was probably the most stupid thing you've ever done…'

Chris backed away as he caught the anger in Wyatt's eyes, but Wyatt's hand reached out and grabbed his jacket sleeve. Chris looked pleadingly at Wyatt and searched for something in his eyes that he could understand; that was recognisable to the brother that he had once known, and still loved.

Wyatt grabbed Chris' neck and lifted him up. Chris choked and started to kick his legs urgently, wanting to tell him something, anything…
'This would be so much easier on you if you just kept still, you know,' Wyatt stated, coolly.

Chris put both of his hands onto his neck and tried to pry away the fingers that held a pincer-like grip around his neck…

Chris turned his head so he could see better. What was he doing on the floor?
He sat up, and the pain hit him; the shock wearing off in seconds.

Aching all over he slowly got up and looked around. It was silent inside the chamber; no trace of Wyatt, although he had left his mark. All around Chris were fallen pieces of stone, and burnt-out candles littered the ground.

There was a throbbing pain above his eye, and he tenderly felt about with his fingertips. When he pulled his hand away, it was stained with blood.

'Chris…?' a small voice echoed through the chamber, the still air making it sound ghostly. It was Laura.
'I'm here,' he called. She followed his voice, appearing through the dark passageway. The small amount of candles that were still lit showed her small tearstained face and she looked stiff and over formal in her black dress.

'What are you doing down…you're bleeding…'she said moving towards him.
He tried to pull away, but she held onto his arms, and touched the small gash above his eye…

Chris had finally gone quiet. Piper cast another concerned eye over him and another feeling of ineffectiveness washed over her. She picked up a hand that lay by his side and held it, almost willing him to wake up. What she had read in the Book just moments before was floating around inside her head.

She studied his face, taking this opportunity to memorise every…scar?
She brushed the small blemish above his eye with her fingertip, wondering how he'd got it. She'd never noticed it before, and she felt slightly odd knowing that maybe she never would…