The air was heavy with fog. It was the one thing he didn't like too much about the city, the density of the air. Wafts would drift by and it just always seemed eerie especially on a moonlit night. The sidewalk was damp because of this; beads of moisture glistening and making the concrete slick. His Nikes slid occasionally as he turned a corner or sped his pace up. His shadow struck the street, lengthening and shortening as he passed each street lamp. To his right began the white picket fence he was anticipating and he ran his fingers across their tops as he had each time he came to this home.

As he crept closer to the house he saw a darkened figure sitting on the front porch. He neared the gate and gently lifted its lock and marched forth. The walk here had cleared his mind as he hoped it would. He organized the confusion that dominated his thoughts after he woke from his comatose like sleep. He knew she was gone, that his brother had murdered her. His dreams softly cushioned his mind from the blow that was this reality. Her house now, an empty shell of a life, was a painful reminder of the love he would never possess again.

Here, past the confines of the fencing, the fog cleared. It seemed as if just around the house, and nowhere else, the sheets of moisture cleared. He looked up to the sky and could see the stars twinkling alive in an eerie, surreal way in the crystal clear night. They seemed sad and mournful to him. He took a deep breath of the crisp, light cold air, in stark contrast to the heavy, humid air behind him; before him the figure had risen and taken a couple of steps toward him. The figure drew his hood back to reveal his face but there was no surprise in who it was.

"Wyatt," Chris said.

"Chris," Wyatt said in acknowledgment.

Both brothers stood in front of each other, face to face, eye to eye. Chris peered into Wyatt's eyes, seeking some semblance of recognition in the person who stared at him.

When he was younger he envied his brother, he adored and idolized him. Their family had been torn apart and the only constant in his life had been Wyatt. In their teens, when they stayed with their grandfather, Wyatt sought independence and ran away. Before he left he begged Chris to come with him. Chris felt connected to his grandfather and he felt he should stay; but his heart told him to go with Wyatt. His brother bid him farewell and promised to return for him, saying they would do great deeds together that no one could imagine. Chris felt abandoned again but awaited Wyatt's return.

"I'm asking you again, Chris," Wyatt said, abandoning the cloak completely, "Come with me. We can rule the world together, you and me. I need your help to do this, to make it easier; but I can do it alone if need be."

"Why did you kill her?" Chris asked.

Wyatt turned his face away, as if searching for the right words to speak to his brother. Chris peered at him, a memory returning to his mind. Wyatt had done the same thing years ago when he returned for Chris and had been questioned by his brother

It was before he met Bianca, the summer after his graduation from high school. Chris had had enough of Magic School and begged his grandfather for the opportunity to attend a real school. Victor relented and allowed Chris this one normalcy, fearing to tread where he had with his daughters. Victor always told Chris he regretted encouraging Grams to bind the girls' powers, feeling had Pru been better apt with her gifts she would not have died.

After the graduation ceremony, when Chris was in his room changing out of his gown, he heard a slight rapping on his window. Lifting the pane he peered his head out. Wyatt's head jumped up from below as he cried 'boo'. Chris, startled, fell back onto the floor. Wyatt hoisted his body up and in through the window and stood before his brother. He helped Chris up from the floor and hugged him. Chris was amazed at how much Wyatt had grown. His shoulders had broadened and his face lengthened; a weary worn look graced him. His eyes were the same, a bright twinkling that he always remembered. Chris inundated Wyatt with questions about his life; where he had been, what he had done and ultimately why he hadn't come sooner. Wyatt looked away for a moment, a brief moment in which he chose his words. He described to Chris the wonders that he had seen, the people and magical entities he had met and the life that he lead. Chris marveled at Wyatt. He had missed his older brother, his confidante and best friend. The person he knew most about had changed yet remained the same.

"You're eyes are different," Chris said, interrupting Wyatt's train of though.

"What?" Wyatt asked.

"Nothing," Chris said, "So why did you do it?"

In Chris' bedroom Wyatt reminded his brother of the promise he made before he departed, of how he would return for him one day. He told him he sought to fulfill that promise and asked him to come away with him, to see the wonders of the world. Chris hesitated. All his adolescent life he had waited for his brother to whisk him away but now that the moment arrived he no longer desired to fulfill his fantasy. He told his brother that he had begun to build a life for himself, away from the Manor and witchcraft that had cursed their childhood. He had made friends and prepared to go to college to become an engineer. Wyatt balked at all of this. He told Chris that their destinies lay in magic, in conquering their abilities and using them for a greater purpose. Wyatt couldn't understand how Chris could turn his back on his gifts, how he could entertain the idea of leading a boring life. He confided in Chris his distaste for humans, in their frailties and vulnerabilities. He found them useless and a waste of space. Chris was shocked by this. His brother, the most compassionate person he had know, confided to him a hatred he possessed.

"Because she was weak, Chris!" Wyatt roared, "How could you devote yourself to someone so meager? You're powerful; you proved that in the Ankara."

"She wasn't mortal!" Chris cried back, "She was a Phoenix! She even helped me kill you!"

"And we know how successful you were about that," Wyatt responded, his emotions cooling, "She wasn't right for you."

Wyatt told Chris that mortals were dispensable, an annoyance to powerful individuals such as themselves. Chris countered that they were human beings, capable of doing much more with fewer resources. They bounced back at this and gained no ground. Frustrated, Wyatt halted the conversation and simply asked Chris if he wanted to leave with him. He told Chris that he was on the verge of something amazing and that together they could do the unbelievable. Chris was tempted but found his brother too much of a changed man. He told Wyatt he wanted to carve a life for himself despite any preordained destiny. Wyatt told him he couldn't escape what the cosmos held for him but that he'd grant him the time to come to this realization. He said he'd stay in San Francisco for the time being, that he had things to attend to. Wyatt promised to drop by occasionally to catch up with his brother. He stepped to the window and jumped out while Chris ran after him to see him off. From the view of his windowsill, Chris saw the last semblance of his brother Wyatt.

"I'm not your devoted, little brother Wyatt," Chris said, "How did you know I'd come here?"

"Everyone knows this is where you left for. Do you think Piper isn't aware of where you are?" Wyatt asked.

"It's 'Mom', Wyatt," Chris said, "Don't act as if she didn't grant you life."

"She provided the shell," Wyatt said, "I provided the life. You're still not quite yourself yet, are you? I suppose that knock to the head was a bit rash."

Chris head began to throb. The mention of this injury by Wyatt seemed to aggravate any residual effects that still lingered. The ground began to swirl and his mind started to swoon.

"Not healed completely," Wyatt said, "Perhaps when you're feeling more like yourself you'll be able to reconsider. I've been patient Chris, despite everything. My open offer will not be available indefinitely. Someday you will have to grant me a definitive answer...just hope by then it isn't too late. You're my blood, wholly and completely, but become a threat again and those constraints will fall. Now sleep. I have far too much work to be done, far too much work to remain here longer."

Wyatt's form pulsed, his body slowly vanishing. Chris stared at where he stood, his eyes heavy and his head confused. His senses betrayed him and he began to fall asleep. He stepped to Bianca's porch and sat on the steps where Wyatt waited for him. As his lids closed he heard hissing around him. His orbs fluttered, trying desperately to stay awake. He couldn't resist any longer and succumbed to the incredible urge.

"Mine," a voice whispered.

Once again Chris' eyes fluttered. He fought the urge to sleep desperately. The voice had been coarse and rough. His body had fallen from a sitting position on the steps to a full sprawl. He summoned what energy he could to lift his head to find the source of the voice. Nothing could be seen around the house. The fog slowly crept towards the house, the night sky slowly enveloped by the humid air. Chris dropped his head down in frustration. The sleep was getting the best of him and he had no way of fending it off. Finally he allowed it to permeate his body and he welcomed it gingerly. His eyes perceived something in this sleep, an object approaching him. Before he knew it the image of sharp fangs inundated his mind. He felt as if they sunk into his flesh and he called out for help but none came. He felt as if his body were clamped between these massive jaws, the fangs inside his flesh and manipulating his body. There was nothing he could do but experience it and slowly he accepted what was happening.