Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was his birthday, just like it had been every year since the day he was born. It was generally accepted that’s how birthdays worked, specifically for humans anyways. For some witches, there could be two birthdays, your actual day of birth and then the day your magic manifested. Some Whitelighters who were granted the honor at the moment of their death could consider their death day, their birthday, into a life of magic.

Anyways, it was Chris’ 23rd birthday. The house was buzzing with excitement, though Chris wasn’t sharing in that excitement. Instead, he sat on his bed, watching Wyatt as he stood by the door. His parents were downstairs setting up streamers across the living room, dining room and parlor. His Aunt Paige had rolled her eyes at his parents as they set the paper strips up by hand even though Wyatt, Melinda or even Paige could do it with magic. But his mom was old fashioned, which lead to his dad standing on step ladders while she directed him from down below. His Aunt however was simply pushing furniture aside with her powers to create room to house the immediate family.

He had tried to protest, he was old enough to decide if he wanted a party or not, but was overruled by not only everyone living in the Manor, but every one of his family members. So he sat on his bed, watching Wyatt in his doorway after having been banned from the downstairs by his Aunt Phoebe for “peeking”. He had seen the same streamers and sign and where the presents would go for 23 years now. It wasn’t going to change, so he didn’t think it counted as peeking, but when his Aunt gave him that look along with his mother’s exasperated face… It wasn’t really up to Chris anymore.

“I don’t see the point.” He had muttered as he was banished to his room by his Aunt. Sure it was a birthday, but it wasn’t a big birthday, or even expected to be as exciting as his 21st birthday party was… THAT was certainly a night to remember, though he honestly couldn’t remember that much of it. Only that perhaps drinking an entire bar’s worth of alcohol, was not a great idea. He did have to admit, his grandpa Victor was right about Scotch, hell of a drink.

Chris honestly figured that was going to be the highlight of his young adult life. Getting wasted on his 21st birthday. It was the “authentic experience” as his aunt Phoebe had put it. “And then who knows! Maybe you’ll fall in love!” She had said the next morning, much too loudly for his hangover. So he couldn’t understand why today was such a big deal, he was turning 23 and it was just another birthday in the Halliwell house as far as he cared.

So there he sat on his bed. He could have gone to the attic to look through the book but Melinda had banned that too. No demon-hunting during birthdays was a strict rule in the Manor. Too many celebrations ruined by death, destruction and demons with bad timing. The word ‘evil’ was almost a cuss word on big celebration days in the Manor, so he was stuck where he was. Sitting on his bed, watching Wyatt stand in the doorway and tell him what was going on downstairs. While he wasn’t allowed to “peek”, his Aunt hadn’t told Wyatt he couldn’t tell his little brother every little play by play of what was happening. Assuming he didn’t hear it himself, his mother’s voice was something he could pick out of any crowd and she had a voice that was used to being listened to, having to run her own kitchen at the restaurant and he heard about how she was with the club they used to own.

“Seriously, it's just 23, there's no need to go all out.” Chris said with a sigh. He flopped back to stare at the ceiling. His arms coming to rest behind his head on the pillows. He was still waiting to hear a crash. His father, while a good handyman, plus a stepstool? Not always the best result.

He could hear Wyatt chuckling from the doorway, “Mom never does anything half-assed. She always wanted a normal life and normal is going all out with a birthday party for every year.” He explained and while Chris wasn’t watching him, the shrug was practically non-verbal. With only 2 years between them, he knew all his brother’s nuances and movements like the back of his hand.

He rolled his eyes at his brother’s words, “Yea but I’m an adult, you’re an adult, this isn’t some kid’s birthday where we have punch and streamers and a clown…” He turned his head to look at Wyatt. The older blond leaned against his doorway, his arms crossed over his chest and smiling at him with WAY too much humor. Clearly his brother was enjoying his embarrassment and suffering as he was practically locked in his own bedroom. “Are you my guard dog or something?” He asked. Wyatt laughed and shrugged, “More like a witness. Make sure you stay where you’re supposed to be.” Chris groaned and sat up, picking up one of his pillows and flinging it at Wyatt.

It was deflected with a single hand gesture and hit the wall next to the door instead. “Really?” Wyatt was still laughing and if Chris was slightly less mature, he’d have stuck his tongue out at him. Instead, he did the adult thing and flipped him off instead. He fell back once more and threw his arms wide on the full size mattress. “This is insane, you know you’re thinking the same thing! Even Melly doesn’t want big parties anymore and she’s still a kid!”

He may have said it slightly louder than he meant to because he heard a faint. “Am Not!” from down the hall. Wyatt’s near cackling had Chris throwing his other pillow at him. Except when it was deflected back at him, he deflected it back to Wyatt, his older brother trying to send it back again. The pillow was suspended in the air for a moment before hitting the closet door this time. “Asshole.” Chris muttered. He knew full well he was pouting, but all week he had been BEGGING not to have a big party. While he sort of did get his wish, no friends invited, no teachers or friends of the family. He had wanted just a quiet dinner with his immediate family. He loved his cousins and aunts and uncles, but sometimes all the people bothered him. Too many voices and too manys bodies. Wyatt was much better with dealing with crowds though he wasn’t as good at them as Melinda. Now she THRIVED in a crowd, Chris was half-convinced she was a queen in another life (and in their family, it was possible) because she could command attention so well in a throng of hundreds.

“Come on grouchy pants.” Wyatt said as he walked into the room and sat on the end of the bed. “You know mom just wants this to be amazing for you. I doubt she’ll ever stop giving us huge birthday parties even when it’s for our kids.”
Chris groaned loudly like the idea terrified him, “You with kids? That will be the end of the world… I can’t even imagine you procreating.” But he was grinning as he said it and Wyatt reached across the bed to push his shoulder. Chris leaned into the push, it was something he learned as a kid wrestling with his big brother. So many things gave way for Wyatt when he pushed them with either his magic, his persuasive nature, or his just plain strength. But he often was stumped when things pushed back. Wyatt used his other hand to swipe towards Chris’ head, attempting to unbalance him and give him a chance to rub his bony knuckles against his skull. Chris was full on grinning as he got up onto his knees and shoved at Wyatt who, like the asshole he was, orbed out of the way and Chris ended up on the floor with the force of his dive.

Wyatt stood next to him when he reappeared and Chris growled as he stood up, brushing himself off. “Pretty sure we agreed no orbing.” He said in an annoyed tone as he ran a hand through his hair to fix it back to normal.

“No that only counts downstairs or in the attic because we could break something. Second story is free game.” Wyatt explained with a smile full of teeth. Chris growled at him again and went to the door, intending on going to either the attic or downstairs, being trapped in his room made him antsy, but Wyatt grabbed his arm, “Nope, sorry little brother, you’re grounded.”

Chris huffed and pulled his arm from Wyatt’s grip. “I have to get out of here, this waiting is making me…. itchy.” He didn’t want to say that it was making him anxious, his siblings teased him enough for being the neurotic one while his mother just claimed he was “sensitive”.

Chris sighed, “I’m going to sneak out of here for a while, you want to come with?” After all if he was going to be Chris’ guard dog, might as well have some fun out in the city. Wyatt looked like he was considering it, but shook his head. “I’ll cover for you, but you’ve got two hours. Least i’ll have time to wrap your present.”

He rolled his eyes and smirked, “Like you actually got me something… I’ll see you later.” He reached over to the dresser, grabbed his wallet and orbed away.

Chapter Text

11AM

He landed in the shadow of one of the columns at the Palace of Fine Arts. It was a bright sunny day, it was San Francisco after all, projected to be in the mid-70’s but that was nothing new to him. He glanced around the area, making sure no one saw him orb in before stepping out into the public space.

The columns were massive and he ran a hand along the stone before glancing up at the carved ceiling. This was one of his favorite places in the city. It was usually swarming with tourists but in November, it wasn’t exactly bustling, Tourist season was starting to pick back up where it had ebbed off in September and early October. Everyone wanted to be in San Francisco for the summer or for Halloween, but in the between times? That’s when the residents could enjoy their historic town. He watched the few people who meandered beneath the massive pavillion pillars, some heads buried in maps, others taking pictures and posing with the view of the lake in the background or pretending to hold up a column or tipping the cameras up to catch the ceiling in the photo.

He put his hands in his pockets and began to walk around at his own pace. Despite having the ability to orb since his adolescence, he often didn’t go where he wanted for just fun. Running errands usually depended on what errands and who could see him. So he drove for those, especially grocery trips or supply runs for the restaurant. Demon fighting and innocents, he found a location but it wasn’t exactly places he loved to be in. It was rare he used his ability to go to places that would be fun or exciting or simply relaxing.

And on his birthday, he intended to go where he wanted for the two hours Wyatt was covering for him, ignoring the thoughts of the crowd that would wait for him at home. He didn’t really have any sort of goal or place in mind just yet on what he wanted to do but it was up to him, and there wasn’t a rush.

He roamed the outdoor Pavillion, looking up at the carved ceiling and twisted around the columns. His mom had taken him here a few times, once or twice for personal reasons, she wanted her sons and daughter to see the sights of the city they lived in and the other times, Wyatt and him were dragged along with their dad for some catering event or another for the restaurant. It was stunning and he loved the view of the lake. The inside was a little much in his opinion in terms of style, it was made for weddings, corporate events and parties after all.

Being outside helped with his hobby as well. It wasn’t creepy to people watch if he could claim he was looking at the lake or the artwork of the stone. While Wyatt and Melinda had a better affinity for people, Chris was best at watching their behavior and seeing things that were out of place. Wyatt could charm anyone, Melinda somehow always knew someone was lying and Chris could easily tell if they were hiding something. The New Charmed Ones were a trio to behold when together, but when off duty, they were just fun skills to have and hone.

So Chris people-watched for a good 15 minutes. Seeing some tourists who managed to get a cheap ticket on the airline to come to the city and explore when prices were lowered. He could tell who wanted to be there and who was dragged along for the ride because, at least the outdoor part was free to come to.

Checking his watch, he moved to hide behind a column and orbed away, he had more he wanted to see that day.

He appeared at Golden Gate Park in one of the shadows of the restrooms outside the Conservatory of Flowers. He carefully checked to see if anyone could see him before he stepped out and around to the front of the white building. There was so much open space, so much green. In a city that had smog most of the morning and exhaust most of the afternoon, it was a treat to see so much green sometimes. If the lawn wasn’t so manicured and open, he wondered if he could glimpse Nymphs between trees or bushes, but they wouldn’t come out where it was open and possibly be exposed. He admired the red and yellow marigolds planted in a pattern in front of the steps before ascending them and entering the building. Sure he could have orbed inside but someone would have noticed and Aunt Paige was always telling him not to use his magic to get things free.

Paying his way, he stepped inside, instantly assaulted with the smell of mulch and moist dirt. It was preferable to the smell of demon guts so he didn’t mind. It reminded him of the small garden outside the solarium at home. His mother never had a green thumb, and his father preferred building to gardening, but Melly had tried her hand at it and had roped her brothers into helping before.

Chris wandered through the pathways, seeing flora that were native and non-native to the area and the country as a whole. He could sense the magic in the place and knew there had to be nymphs or fairies that came in to see the many types of flowers and help them grow or collect their nectar.

When he had walked in, he had snagged a pamphlet and used it to steer clear of the corpse flower that was on display. It wasn’t due to bloom for another year or more according to the pamphlet but he didn’t feel like getting close enough to test if it really stank so much. He dealt with enough remains of other creatures, he thought he might know the smell anyways. a

He made a meandering route through the displays. It was hot and humid, and kept a perfect temperature for plants to thrive through any weather, even if the weather didn’t change all that often in the city. He regretted a bit having a long-sleeved shirt on but it wasn’t enough to make him leave.

Chris eventually made it to the back pavilion. A large open space in the shape of a circle. It was surrounded by white marble (or was said to be marble) and there were angels every few feet, and saints. A tribute to the churches that helped fund the Conservatory, made by local artists. The lawn was green and trimmed while flowering bushes stood between the statues, mainly different colored roses.

Chris took note of people taking pictures and taking a break in the open air from the humid artificial air of the building. There were more than at the Pavilion, what with this being in the park and always a tourist draw any time of year. And it had a view of the top of the Golden Gate Bridge if you stood at a certain bench at other end of the circle from the entrance.

He toured the statues, seeing the well carved and created statues, Chris wasn’t an artistic person at heart, but he could appreciate the hard work and dedication it took to make something like this, especially without the use of magic to steady your hand or make the stone more malleable.

He took a break on one of the stone benches, the one where he could see the Bridge, and relaxed, taking deep breaths of the “fresh” air. There was no such thing as true fresh air in the city where smog warnings were a morning occurrence, but being around nature helped. He heard stories about Aunt Phoebe when they first became witches. Being on a kick about being nature based and being out in the outdoors and when his aunt had gotten incredibly drunk, she had told him a horrifying story of his mother and his aunt getting naked in the park with a bunch of Wiccans. He still had no idea why she was okay with telling him that bit of history he had NO NEED to know ever existed.

And while they were real witches, with powers who fought off evil on a weekly basis, his aunt Phoebe was right. Sometimes being around nature just… helped. Grounded them, reminded them that their powers were only a piece of the natural world.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, maybe getting philosophical on his birthday was a bad idea. He went back to people watching, observing who was in the small courtyard area with them. Sometimes you could spot demons or spectres or warlocks just by watching behavior and sure he wasn’t allowed to say demons or go demon hunting, but you could never be too cautious and people watching was a great way to do that.

He was doing just that when he caught sight of her. A young hispanic woman with a red leather jacket on over a black shirt that rode high, showing off her toned stomach. Her pants were simple blue jeans except they hugged her figure like a second skin. She was reading a pamphlet and raised her hand to brush her long brown hair over her shoulder and out of her way. Something about her captivated Chris. She wasn’t any different than other beautiful women he had seen. He was a young adult man and had dated before, she wasn’t even really his type either. He liked women who were on the shorter side and had lighter hair than the deep brown of this woman’s. She must have felt herself being watched because her head snapped up and she looked around, her eyes were hard as they searched before she locked eyes with him and narrowed them into a glare. He had the feeling she didn’t like being looked at.

He gave her an apologetic look and turned his head to continue his people watching elsewhere, it was rude anyways to stare at someone outright. Chris found his eyes drifting back to her after a few minutes. She was by one of the rose bushes that contained nearly blood red blooms. Her hand was out to touch one when she turned her head and caught his eyes again. She sent him another glare and he swore he could actually feel heat on his skin but he turned his head again. Trying to find something else to look at but some feeling kept telling him to look back at her. Maybe she was a demon in hiding? Or a warlock? She was certainly dressed like one in the tight clothes, but it was also possible she was an innocent as well. He turned to watch her again but she was watching him now and she had a look of murder on her face before she advanced on him.

“You got a problem there kid?” She asked when she arrived, standing over his sitting form. Her arms crossed over her chest as she stared down at him, practically daring him to say something to her.

Chris held up his hands, the pamphlet clenched in one palm, “No just admiring everything.”

It took a moment before he realized what he said and how it could be taken and from the murderous look on her face she took it exactly the wrong way. “I meant the statues and roses, not… Your everything.” He blushed as he tried to explain. “I swear I didn’t mean to offend you.”

She was glaring at him, cocking her hip out with the confidence of someone who knew how to handle idiots like him. “Yea well, how about you admire it somewhere else? I didn’t come here to be ogled by some little horny teen.”

Now that was offensive, he knew he looked young but he didn’t look like a teenager! He lowered his hands and frowned up at her, “Hey! I’m 22! Well, about to be 23, today’s my birthday.” He defended himself, and then felt like an idiot, of course she wouldn’t care. She might think it was an excuse to ask her out and clearly she wasn’t interested. In fact she looked like she might deck him.

“Yea well, still a kid and I don’t feel like being your birthday present. So I suggest you leave.” How old was she that she considered him a kid? Or was it a mentality thing? Her tone left no room for argument though, but Chris grew up with his mom and aunts using that exact tone… He was going to argue.

“I was here first, why don’t you leave?” And while it was true, she had walked in maybe a few minutes after he sat down, he didn’t realize how it just seemed to enforce the fact he was young.

“Excuse me?” Oh… Chris had a sudden memory of the instant regret he had the one time he thought poking a hornet's nest would be a good idea… He just poked another one. But he already unleashed it so might as well go all the way. “I sat down first, the place is big, if you leave first, then i’m sure we won’t see each other again.” If looks could kill. She looked like rage incarnate before suddenly grinning in a way that made him fear a little for his body parts.

She leaned over him, poking him in the chest, he could glimpse a red tattoo on her arm inside her sleeve. Her hair fell forward and he lost sight of it as he looked at her face, she had his full attention. “Listen kid,” Her voice was like honey but Chris knew there was something dark to it. “How about you leave while you still have use of your legs.” The honey in her voice transitioned to dark and threatening and if he wondered if he was correct in his thoughts earlier, was she a demon? There was a lot of venom and promise in her words.

Having no sense of self-preservation, Chris shook his head and stood up. Realizing he was about half a head taller than her and while she had to look up at him, she only continued to glare at him. He couldn’t help noticing that even while it looked like she was trying not to kill him, she was beautiful. Her eyes were almond shaped and a deep brown. The kohl around it was minimalistic but it just drew more attention to her natural beauty. She continued to glare at him and he smirked back at her. Feeling brave for just a moment he nodded, “Alright, you’re probably right, you obviously own the place.”

He stepped around the bench to start walking away and heard her mutter, “Damn straight. You don't want to know what would have happened if you hadn’t walked away babe.” He turned his head to look at her and she was still watching him. The babe comment had him grinning at her for who knew what reason. He watched her until he made it back to the entrance to the garden and stepped inside. He didn’t see her smile and shake her head at him.

Chris took a deep breath once he was back in the building. He had no idea where that had come from. It wasn’t flirting, she looked ready to kill him. If Wyatt had been with him, he might have teased him or tried to get her number while Chris wasn’t looking. He wasn’t one to just ask girls out, it took a bit to get him comfortable before he could do that.

The whole experience left him a little weirded out and a glance at his watch, he realized he didn’t have a lot of time left before Wyatt had to fetch him. He had already spent an hour at the Conservatory, so he dropped his pamphlet in the recycling, headed to the men’s room and orbed away.

He arrived an alleyway next to a bookstore he frequented. It was even close to the manor, only a good 30 minute walk or a 10 minute drive (or an hour with traffic). He stepped out into the light of the day and headed inside, intending on getting himself a personal present. He didn’t actually think Wyatt or Melly would get a present for him other than a card.

He was browsing stacks when he heard the sound of chimes, turning his head and finding Wyatt next to him with a large grin on his face. “Time to head home little brother.” Chris rolled his eyes as he put a book back on the shelf, “I at least used the door, it’s no wonder mom and dad worry about you exposing us.” He whispered as he turned to fully face Wyatt. “So we do seriously have to do this now? Not even going to wait until it’s dark? What about the fireworks? I was so hoping to see them.” His tone was mocking and Wyatt shoved his shoulder playfully. “You’re such a brat, you don’t deserve a party.”

Chris laughed, catching a few looks from the end of the aisle and he quieted down a little, “See! Let’s cancel the whole thing then!” He turned back to grab another book and noticed Wyatt looking back and forth through the shelves. “Oh don’t you dare.” He warned as he turned to look at his brother. “Not in here!” He took a step back, they could orb outside but the blond grinned playfully before grabbing Chris’ shoulder, “Not a chance little brother.” And they were absorbed by light and disappeared.

Chapter Text

1PM

He sighed as Wyatt orbed them to the front of the manor. Facing the street. “Dude, really?” He asked as he rolled his eyes and turned to the door. “I know they’re all in there. I know they’re going to jump out and yell ``surprise!” He imitated the hand waving and big smiles and it was his brother’s turn to roll his eyes. “Come on, you’re being such a downer, just do it.” He gestured to the door.

Chris let out a groan and reached for the door as Wyatt orbed away, presumably inside to join in the yell. Chris couldn’t help chuckling at how stupid his family was before he opened the door. Surprisingly there wasn’t a shower of sparks or yelling just yet. He shut the door and looked in the parlor. There was no one. He started to walk further in and didn’t see anyone on the stairs. Okay, this was different.

“Uh… Mom? Dad? Melly?” He knew they were there. Of course they were there. He didn’t even hear giggling from his cousins, so where was everyone? He stepped into the living room and there was still no one around. The streamers were all over the place though. “Happy Birthday Chris!” Spelled in big letters with stars on either side and at least there wasn’t any pink. Just lots of blues and greens and purples. So his cousins didn’t win the argument for pink then…

“Hello?” It was getting weird. Where was everyone? He walked further into the living room to check in the conservatory and still nothing. He didn’t see movement outside so they weren’t in the garden. He cast his senses out and they were all definitely in the manner…

He turned to head upstairs when there was a loud “POP!” and a shower of sparks before everyone materialized before his eyes. He jumped and he would never admit that he had actually let out a yelp. His cousins were laughing and his Aunt Paige was high-fiving his brother. “Got ya!” Aunt Phoebe said before hugging him. “Happy birthday sweetie.” He hugged her back but was so confused. “How did you all…”

“Disappear? Me and Wyatt cloaked everyone. Knew you could sense us but we made sure you couldn’t see or hear us.” Paige explained and she high-fived Wyatt again. His older brother crossed his arms and grinned. Chris grinned back. “Okay, I'll admit. It’s a new one.”

He shook his head and began to hug his cousins and aunts and uncles. Side-stepping Phoebe’s attempt to squeeze his cheek and gush about how old he was. She would never change. He ruffled Henry Jr.’s hair and gave him a fist bump. It was hard sometimes being the only boys in the Halliwell clan and Henry wasn’t even a witch.

He had to admit, it was a pretty cool party. They were chilling out and just talking. It was just a family affair since Chris hadn’t even wanted a party. None of his friends were invited but he could just get together with them and Wyatt later at a bar or club or magic school.

It was just an hour of socializing before his mom announced the cake. He laughed, he knew it was coming and he knew it was his and her favorite. Double chocolate decadence cake. She carried it carefully from the kitchen and they all gathered around the dining room table.
“Alright, cake then we’ll open presents.” His mom announced before beginning to light the two candles that spelled out ‘23’ on top of the cake. He wanted to roll his eyes with the routine of his family for the past 23 years of his life. But he indulged his mom with a smile and looked down at the cake as his family gathered around him and the dining table.

“Alright blow out your candles!” Phoebe looked WAY too excited but Chris couldn’t help smiling and leaned over, pursing his lips and blowing out the candles. He couldn’t see Wyatt behind him but the cake moved away from him just as a hand tried to force his head into it. He was able to resist and there was a loud and angry shout of, “Wyatt!” From his mother. He turned around and shoved his older brother. They were both laughing though, every year Wyatt tried to shove his face into the cake and only once or twice had he ever succeeded. Chris had a much better record at getting the cake all over his brother for HIS birthdays.

Chris turned to his mom, she was glaring at his brother and he laughed, “Come on mom you know—“ He cut himself off with a wheeze like the air had been punched out of him. The dining room swam before him and his eyes clenched shut as he doubled over in pain. He grabbed at the table edge while his other hand went to his chest. He wheezed again and couldn’t catch his breath. Pain tore through his chest, he heard his name being called but he couldn’t hear who was calling him or focus as many voices filled his head, a huge chorus of shouting.

Even with his eyes closed, the world swam again and it felt like he was spinning hard and fast and he felt sick. His brain was so full, it felt like it would burst. His hand let go of the table and made a fist next to his head, trying to push the pain out of his head. He couldn’t hear anything now but the blood rushing in his ears. He fell to the floor, lying on his side and pulling himself into a fetal position. The pain in his chest was dull compared to the pain in his head. Hands were touching his shoulders and holding him, it felt like fire covering his skin, as if they were dozens of hands tugging and pulling and jostling him over and over again.

Where was he again? Why was everything spinning?

He faintly, somewhere buried underneath the shouting and tugging and spinning in his brain, he knew his eyes were shut but it didn’t feel that way. Images were rushing past his tightly shut eyes. His body feeling the pain and heartache from years of another life, another Chris. He tried to focus on things he knew to slow everything down. What was going on?

He saw images of his mother, seeing her as taller than him and dying right in front of him. He let out a sob and a cry of “No!” before he saw her again staring at him in shock, moments of her freezing him, but him just holding still to pretend, holding so still, why was he faking it? Watching some dream reality try to tear her apart as he gasped in pain, it was his fault, why was it his fault? Then scenes of her glaring at him, “I don’t want to see you again.” The shot of pain to his heart at seeing his own mother’s eyes filled with hate and distrust, her staring at him once again in shock and confusion and then her heavily pregnant and hugging him tight and saying she loved him.

He saw his dad, his loving father ignoring him, turning away from him. Orbing away from him when he needed him. Fighting against him with actual weapons, his dad beating him and mistrusting him, moments where he hated him. A hug and love filled goodbye, then his eyes full of tears and holding him while Chris let out a final breath.

He tried to focus on Wyatt, his older brother, talented, caring, loving and then nothing but death and deceit and evil. Long hair, dark clothes, a sword in his hand high above his head before an execution. Holding his hand up and choking the life from him, no love in his eyes. Slamming a beautiful girl into a pile of rubble in the attic and pain like he had never felt filling his heart seeing her die. And then such a little baby before him, helpless and raising a shield against him. Seeing those blue eyes with nothing but innocence and curiosity looking at him from a crib while he told him he would stop him. Running to protect him from Gideon…

Emotions and thoughts ran through his head so fast, his eyes opened wide with a gasp as he could finally get his breath but his eyes were filling with tears and the world was still spinning, he felt sick, trying to turn to vomit, but arms were holding him so tight. He didn’t even recognize as his father held him to his chest and his family surrounded him, calling his name, his brother’s hands glowing gold as he prepared to heal. He couldn’t concentrate, sour taste in his mouth, tears streaming down his face and his overloaded brain finally shut down and he passed out.

Chapter Text

3PM

When Chris woke up, he was laying on the couch, his brother’s hands on his chest and glowing golden. There were people all around him, it took a moment for his eyes to focus and register faces. His head was pounding and something in him was telling him he couldn’t be vulnerable at that moment. Everyone’s eyes were on him, it made him feel uneasy and he shifted to sit up but hands on his shoulders stopped him. He tilted his head back, making him further dizzy but he saw his dad. “We can’t find a wound, Chris, what happened?” He asked.

Chris had lived with those concerned blue eyes all his life but seeing them now brought images of hateful tears and grief beyond imagine to his mind. His eyes felt itchy and red and he reached up to wipe them, finding tears. It wasn’t odd for him to cry, his mom and aunt Phoebe especially encouraged it. As young adult men, he and his brother should feel safe enough to cry around their families and within the safe place that was the manor. But staring at the teardrops on his fingers it sent a pang of fear through him. No one was supposed to see him cry or break. He had to be strong.

Why did he have to be strong?

“Dad…” He tried to say something, to answer, but just the sound of his voice sent a violent pulse of pain through his head and he hissed, pressing the heel of his hands against his temples to try and push the pain out.

“Chris?” His father’s voice was soft and hands that were rough from handy work and yet gentle took his wrists and pulled them down so his face was exposed. His father was now kneeling in front of the couch, holding his hands away from his face. Chris was still crying and it was sending pings of pain through his core. Like it was somehow very wrong.

Chris opened his eyes, when had he shut them?

“My head is killing me.” He muttered. He heard the singing sound of Wyatt’s healing ability finally stop. His brother pulled his hands away from Chris and sat back on the end table to observe him. Still close enough to touch him if necessary, but far enough to give him and his dad some space. Chris noticed Melinda sitting in one of the armchairs, leaning forward with a worried look on her face. "Wyatt?" She questioned their older brother.

“I can’t heal him, there’s nothing wrong.” His brother looked so confused and Chris’ headache ramped up as he saw the concern and confusion suddenly split onto a face that never showed anything but anger and confidence. He hissed again and shut his eyes once more. He needed to sit up. He had to be ready.

For what?

He groaned as he slowly sat up, shrugging off his father’s hands from his wrists and waiting for the world to right itself as his movement sent it spinning again. He tasted sour in his mouth and he had to swallow forcefully to keep from vomiting all over his dad who kneeled next to his knees. Chris opened his eyes and looked at the floor, and when it stopped rising and falling, he looked at his dad. The man looked helpless and Chris wanted to snort, like Leo would ever care.

What the fuck?

He suddenly wanted to hide away, throw up defenses he had never used before. He suddenly knew the best places in the underworld to hide from sensing and knew that the Golden Gate Bridge would be a great place to think of a strategy. His gaze returned to the carpet below his feet. It was a familiar carpet below him, it had never changed, through all the timelines and it helped ground him.

“Chris? Peanut, what was that?” His mom’s voice cut through the pain and he turned to look at her. She looked as she always had, laugh lines around her eyes and lips, not yet pronounced enough to be called “old” but they were there. Along with a grey hair or two. He suddenly saw her as younger, still strong and comforting but so dedicated and ready to fight. “Mom?” He finally spoke and it felt so strange and so normal to call her that. It felt like he didn’t even recognize her as she stood behind the couch and looked at him with love and worry. The same worry he saw every time she and the sisters had faced something terrifying, the same worry she had on her face when he was about to step through the portal back to the future.

He winced and shuddered as more things came up. He didn’t know what was going on and he was going to throw up. Chris covered his mouth and shuddered again, his eyes shutting again as he faced forward.

“Baby talk to me.” She asked again. He shook his head. “I think I'm going to be sick.” He whispered. He could hear the orbs and felt a hand touch his shoulder. He opened his eyes and saw Leo, No, his dad holding the sick bucket in front of him. He tried not to stare at it and force his nausea away. The hand on his shoulder burned with familiarity and with a coldness, as if it was foreign and promised pain.

He shivered and in a burst of motion, stood up and crossed to the fireplace, his hand still over his mouth and he panted with the movement. His world was crumbling around him and his head was so full with feelings and words and characters he didn’t recognize, least of all himself. His hand slipped from his mouth to his hair and his other hand joined it. Clenching in the fine brown locks as he rested his forehead on the mantle. “Chris what is going on?” Wyatt’s voice cut through and he heard movement behind him.

Chris shook his head, rocking his forehead on the wood of the mantle. “Don’t. Don’t come closer.” He said in a rough voice. “Everything’s wrong. I can’t… I can’t get it right.” He trailed off into a whisper.

“Chris talk to us.” His mother was sounding panicked and it sent a spike of pain through him, his shoulders hunching as if he had to physically hold the pain there. “You’re scaring us!” Her voice raised but then cut off. His dad must have shushed her.
It was quiet just long enough for him to take a breath before he lowered his hands and lifted his head, he probably had a red mark on his forehead but it didn’t matter as he slowly turned, the nausea abating for a moment as he looked at his family. His father was standing now, his mother had moved to stand between Wyatt and his father. It suddenly shocked him as he realized Melinda had been in the room the whole time. She was the only constant that wasn’t changing. His father and mother and brother, even his aunts were all shifting in his head, making expressions and movements and saying things that didn’t match up to what he had grown up with. Melly was the only thing that didn’t change. She hadn’t spoken up when he had lurched from the couch, she seemed frozen there, her eyes wide in shock and fear for her older brother.

Chris raised a hand and wiped away the tears before looking back at his mom. It was her face, the worry he saw mirrored on his little sister’s face. On all their faces that broke him. He took a stumbling step towards them and Wyatt stepped forward to catch him. He didn’t flinch but he was too focused on his mother’s brown eyes.

A million images ran through his mind, connecting the last time he had seen her so distressed and as he finally made it to her with Wyatt’s help he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tight. The last time he had hugged her he knew it was just hours ago but now it felt like it had been years, decades. “Mom…” He whispered and he knew he was trembling but he couldn’t stop. “Mom… I love you so much.” It sparked a memory, hugging her before they were to send him back to his future. He let out a shuddering sob. He suddenly knew what had happened. It clicked and he whispered, “I remember.”

His mother wrapped her arms around him in return and rubbed his back. She was trembling as well but with fear. She was shorter than him and it felt like she was the only thing keeping him standing. “Peanut what do you remember? What’s going on?” She asked, sounding frankly freaked out. A hand from either side rested on his back and he knew his dad and brother were there with him. He heard movement and Melly came up beside them, getting under Wyatt’s arm and hugging him from the side. Her grip was tighter than his mother’s and he dropped an arm to wrap around her as well.

“Is someone going to tell us what’s going on?!” Two voices demanded from the living room entrance. Chris lifted his head and saw his aunts. Both were staring with frustrated and concerned looks. They had never liked being out of the loop and Chris knew that from more than childhood memories. He coughed as he pulled away from Melinda and his dad and brother but grabbed and held onto his mom’s hand.

It was like pulling a coat on, how his posture straightened and he felt himself push down the pain in his head, in his chest and speak with more confidence than he felt, his voice didn’t even waiver. This wasn’t him. This him. It was past him. The Before Him. He wanted to scream at the wrongness but he looked the Sisters, no his aunts in the eyes and told them.

“I remember.”

Chapter Text

Paige was the one who put it together, gasping from beside Phoebe who nearly jumped with the sound. She turned to her sister and whacked her upper arm for the scare but Paige just shoved her. “Oh my god! You remember? You remember the Other Chris!” She all but shouted. Chris winced at the volume, his head still pounded but it was starting to settle now that he knew what was going on. He was still holding onto the mask of confidence when all he wanted was to sink into the couch and lean against his mother.

“What other Chris?” Wyatt asked from beside him. He turned to look at his parents and Chris saw his eyes widen, “Dad? Dad are you okay?” Chris turned to see what he meant, his father had looked shocked, his skin pale and tears were in his eyes. He looked at Chris and his face showed nothing but love. He held up his arm but hesitated as if he thought Chris would pull away again.

The mask crumbled and he leaned into his father’s arms. The arms he had been safe in from the moment he was born. He didn’t let go of his mother’s hand but he wrapped his free arm around his father’s shoulders and he held tight. He was crying again and he shuddered as part of him rebelled against the hug, this man never did anything for them. For the world, for Wyatt, for the Elders, never for Chris. But the other memories were coming through. His father laughing with him while in the past. Helping him protect Wyatt, protecting Chris, holding Chris as he lay dying. He let out a sob and his father hugged him tighter, his voice breaking through the memories and chaos in his brain.

“Chris… Chris i’m so sorry I couldn’t save you.” His dad was mumbling over and over. Chris shook his head against his shoulder. “You did! I’m here, I remember it all, you saved me.” His voice was getting rougher from crying and he had to clear it to finish. “You saved him.” He lifted his head from his dad’s shoulder to turn and look at Wyatt.

Any other time, the complete and utter confusion on his brother’s face would have Chris leaning against something, laughing his ass off. Chris frowned as the image of his brother’s face distorted to the same look, except his hair was longer and he had a goatee. Wyatt had the same look of confusion in his eyes before anger filled them and he snapped the neck of someone with a quick turn of his wrist. The Other Wyatt, Evil Wyatt. He had never stood for not being the smartest in the room and would kill or maim whatever had confused him as if they had personally insulted him. His vision distorted again and he let go of his dad and mom as he shuddered and shook his head. He was starting to feel sick again.

“Okay! As much as all the hugging and crying is amazing, but what the absolute hell was that? What is everyone talking about?!” Melinda. She had finally snapped and any other time, any other day, it would be funny to watch the teen show her frustration at being kept out of the loop. But today was not any other day. Chris looked at his sister, she looked so much like his mom. Nothing shifted with her. Nothing changed, it was always just Melinda as he knew her. As he had always known her. Melinda… She hadn’t even existed in the other future, Leo never having been around enough to get back together with Piper to make another child. She was a living, breathing miracle to this Chris. He wanted to stagger towards her for a hug of her own but she must have guessed what he wanted from his face and held up her hands. “Nope, no more hugging until we get some answers.” He really looked at her. She looked shaken and scared but was growing more and more angry as his aunts continued to gape from the other side of the room and his parents had tears in their eyes. Only Wyatt seemed as confused as she did.

“What the fuck happened to you back there?” She asked, her tone betraying how scared she was. It shook and he had to wonder what it looked like from her perspective. He didn’t even know what happened. It had felt like nothing he had ever been through before, in this timeline or the other.

“I… Don’t know?” He asked and it was clearly the wrong answer because she practically growled at him. “Bullshit! You were practically seizing and then you screamed out for mom and dad and then passed out! What happened?” Now there was the anger. Chris didn’t know all of that happened, had he really called out for his parents? “And then Wyatt tried to heal you and nothing was working! We waited for 30 minutes for you to wake up! You scared us all to death!”

“Hey lady… “ Paige tried to calm her down but Melinda growled at her too. “What the fuck happened to you!” She repeated. Chris shook his head and turned to look at his parents, unsure how to answer. How did you tell your little sister you died? That there was a whole other lifetime inside his head. One that didn’t include her? He didn’t even know why it happened when it did. Why didn’t he grow up with these memories? Why did it suddenly hit today? Why not the day before or the day after?

He coughed to clear his voice and his aunt Phoebe, psychology major that she was, clapped her hands and smiled her uncomfortable smile where you could see her back molars. “I think we need some tea. Paige, let’s get the tea.” She grabbed her sister, who gaped and looked back at them before giving her awkward smile and nodding, “Tea… Right… yea…” She said as she laughed and walked off with her sister, Chris could hear her mutter “And lots of alcohol…”

Chris still felt dizzy and Melinda was waiting, standing in front of him, shorter than him by a whole head and glaring at him as if it was his fault. He knew she was scared and she had always translated fear to anger. It was a trait she learned from their mother and Chris’ heart clenched to know that she hadn’t existed with his other self, he could have used a sister who reminded him of his mother when she died.

He groaned as that memory came rushing to the forefront of his mind and Wyatt was the one who touched his shoulder to steady him.

“I have to sit.” He muttered. His dad moved and he sat back down on the couch, his head in his hands as he stared down at the carpet, the familiar carpet. He looked up at Melinda who was still waiting and it hit him. Where was everyone else? The house had been full of his family members earlier. How many of them didn’t exist in the other timeline? It was hard to wrap his brain around how many lives weren’t there in that future.

“Coop and P.J. took everyone home. Paige wanted to stay and Wyatt wouldn’t leave.” His mom explained as she moved to sit beside him. Her hands resting on his bicep and his back, rubbing gently. His father did the same on his other side. Being surrounded it felt like a trap and yet he wouldn’t let himself run away. they were his parents, they loved him. They weren’t the people he had to hide his identity from, they weren’t the people from the other future who died or didn’t care.

“So are you going to tell us what happened? We weren’t sure if you were hit with a spell and we were about to be attacked!” Melly wouldn’t let it go but she was sitting in one of the arm chairs across from the couch. Wyatt did the same in the other chair.

Chris didn’t want to talk, he didn’t know how to describe what happened. Now that he KNEW what it was, he didn’t know if he COULD explain it. He took a deep breath and tried to start but Wyatt leaning forward in his seat to listen and resting his forearms on his knees hit him hard. Seeing that pose, the concentration. He flinched, how many times had that look been given to him and been followed by a lie? Or by a mission with pain involved? How many times had he seen that look right before destruction. He shuddered again and looked down at the carpet again. It was grounding him. It wasn’t Wyatt… It wasn’t his Wyatt. It was the other one. This Wyatt loved him. This Wyatt spent time with his little brother, pulled pranks on their little sister, taste-tested their mom’s recipes and waited tables for her for extra cash and work experience. This one had his back in a demon hole and would always protect and love him.

His mom’s voice shocked him into looking back up. “There’s something we never told you guys. We didn’t want to affect the future but about 24 years ago we met a young man from the future. He came back to help save Wyatt from something evil and to save his future from being torn apart.”

His siblings looked shocked and confused, Wyatt the most, his brow deepening with thought. Melly was frowning. “So what does this guy have to do with what happened today?”

“We’re getting there.” His mother said with a sigh.

This young man couldn’t tell us who he was at first or that it was Wyatt he was saving. It took us nearly a year to figure it out and then nearly another to actually do it.” His father spoke up next. “We didn’t trust him, most of us, not until the last moment. He was a stranger who just claimed the future was terrible and then claimed it was Wyatt’s fault.” Chris flinched at the description but it was how he had been. Forced into a role of a stranger with an agenda, just to get them to listen. He felt that way now, someone on the outside, who shouldn’t want the comfort of his parent’s arms around his shoulders and rubbing his back. He had a mission.

But he had accomplished that mission. Seeing his brother, short blond hair, no ugly goatee, no black, no evil, no flatness in those blue eyes he had known all his life. He finished the mission. He saved Wyatt and paid for it with his life.

His mom spoke again, he hadn’t seen the look that she sent his father while he was staring at Wyatt, but he did see how it was making Wyatt feel as he stared at him so he returned to looking at the carpet. The fibers, woven together in the same pattern, the scuffed marks he knew the origin of, the stains he may have put there himself in this timeline… It helped remind him where he was. WHEN he was.

“Right, this young man was… really mysterious and he lied to us more than once. We did nearly everything we could to push him out of our lives.” His mom said and his dad spoke up next, “Almost sending him back where he came from without finishing his mission, even physically fighting him when given the chance.” Chris looked to the side and saw how ashamed his dad looked.

“We finally did find out the truth. He had come back to stop something from turning Wyatt evil.”

His mom looked at his oldest brother and Chris could see the shock on his face as she continued. “His Wyatt had turned into the new Source of All Evil and was destroying the world. And he did fix it. We found out that an Elder named Gideon thought that Wyatt was too powerful and wanted to kill him, so he kidnapped him and would have killed him or at least chased him all over the Underworld and turned him into--”

“Evil, resentful and full of hate, without an ounce of empathy or love.” Chris added, sounding so tired to his own ears. He closed his eyes, he could see what happened. It was the memory playing against his eyelids. He knew now why it happened today of all days. “I came up to the attic to protect and guard Wyatt and Gideon appeared next to the crib, I ran for him and Gideon stabbed me with an athame. I died hours later next to dad.” He didn’t open his eyes but he leaned against him. “And then I was born.” That’s why it happened today.

There was silence in the parlor.

For about 5 seconds.

“Wait wait wait! So you’re saying that Chris, our Chris went back in time from some hell dimension future to stop ME from turning evil?”

Chris’ head shot up at Wyatt’s question. HIs brother was stiff as a board and looked… not confused. But genuinely angry. He had practically shouted the question and Chris couldn’t stop himself, flinching hard back from his brother. Wyatt stared in shock. Chris knew why, he had never flinched away from his brother. Not in true fear. If Wyatt was teasing him, pressing his buttons or was hurt and Wyatt was cleaning him up. But he had never been fearful of his big brother. Wyatt didn’t have the capacity to be scary to Chris, hadn’t had the capacity until today. He had once joked his brother was a golden retriever puppy, nothing threatening about him. But at that moment, the raised voice, the look on his big brother’s face. Chris felt fear flood through him and even though he was trying to control his reactions, it was too fast for him to stop.

When he had flinched, his dad had held him tighter, watching the two of them like a hawk. He was human, what could he do to stop his oldest son from attacking his youngest son? But Chris felt safe in those arms, he kept trying to remember that when the other Chris only ever felt safe for moments at a time with Leo and only at the end.

“Wyatt, if you could lower your voice that would be great.” His mother’s tone was soft but there was steel behind it. “We’re not done explaining. But yes, you’re right. Chris came back and saved you. But not our Chris, a different Chris…. This is going to be confusing.” She sighed and Chris reached out and squeezed her hand, offering her a small smile, “And you don’t have the headache.” He said softly. He felt wrung out, exhausted, like his head was filled with rocks and sand and glass that rattled around every time he breathed.

“So what was that then? The screaming and seizing and what happened at the table?” Melly asked, gesturing to the other room. Chris frowned and looked at the carpet as he thought about it. Thinking hurt. “Maybe… I was remembering the stabbing and then dying and then all these memories filled my head. All these sights and sounds… It hurt… Still hurts.” He mumbled as he tilted his head up to look at his siblings. Melinda looked less angry now, trying to process the information coming at her. But Wyatt looked shellshocked. Chris couldn’t figure out why until he realized Wyatt wasn’t looking at him anymore, he was looking at their dad. “So when I went back to the past, you didn’t tell me that Chris gave his life for me.” Chris’ eyes widened. He remembered that mishap of magic.

Months ago, Wyatt had been pulled into the past, by an errant spell of his mother. Wyatt had explained that it was something about trying to find out why Wyatt was playing with only himself in preschool and wasn’t socializing normally. It had ended up with Wyatt saying he was somehow turned evil and he had described the power and how it felt to be able to summon demons to his will. It had felt like he could break the world and bend the masses to his will. He hadn’t told his siblings what his appearance had been but Chris knew now. He knew the long golden hair. The dark blue eyes and permanent smirk or glower. He knew the darkness that seeped from his very clothing.

And now seeing the look Wyatt sported, his eyes were full of tears but they weren’t falling. He knew why he was upset. No one had told them anything. No one had told him that these memories would come rushing back. No one had told Wyatt he had been evil at some point until he had to experience it. The Other Chris, the other side of him whispered future consequences. Things that couldn’t be said because it would change things for the worse or better or just in general.

Wyatt sniffled and wiped at his nose. “So that’s why I didn’t find a wound? You were clutching your stomach and then you started to scream No over and over again and then you passed out.”

Wyatt was obviously trying to focus on Chris but he looked so lost, Chris could only nod to his question. There was a long beat of silence. It gave Chris a moment to settle his thoughts, settle his stomach. His brother was sitting in front of him, paragon of Good Magic. His sister was next to him and while he considered a devil, she was also a product of Good Magic. A product of him travelling back in time, she hadn’t been there before and now was. He was a big brother because of what the other him did.

It also gave him a moment to realize his aunts were still not back from the kitchen. He realized they were probably listening at the doorway or arguing in the kitchen about the development. Phoebe must have been tied to a chair to be kept from this without a comment on feelings or psychology or the past. Paige would be listening with her own worries but wouldn’t comment until Chris was alone with her.

“So you’re not dying right this moment right?” Melinda asked finally. Chris frowned at her words but shook his head in the negative. “As far as I know, no.” He said and she let out a breath, her shoulders sagging, looking so much like their mother at that moment, but she kept talking. “Okay, so other than you looking like crap, which… No offense big bro, you really do. We’re all safe and fine.” She summed up and Chris couldn’t help snorting at her candid attitude and even Wyatt looked at her like she was nuts before she shrugged and grinned before being shot down by her mother.

“Melinda Prudence Halliwell!” It was clear that their mother didn’t think everything was fine. And truly it wasn’t but Chris appreciated his sister trying to lighten the mood and maybe take the focus off of him for a moment.

“What? I’m not wrong! There’s no demons, no magical mishaps, nothing has happened to physically harm or kill anyone! We’re all good and Chris has a massive headache, that’s all!” She defended herself with wild gesturing. “And we,” She gestured between her and Wyatt, “Now know our brother was a huge hero, which sucks cause I still think he’s an annoying big brother, but he saved Wyatt and you guys and me.”

He couldn’t help it, he laughed, a little manically, a little hysterically, but he laughed. Having to cover his mouth to keep from making too much noise. Chris felt like he might shake apart at any given moment but his little sister helped keep him together just a small amount. She smiled seeing his reaction, though it was tense at the sound of his laughs. Wyatt continued to look worried about him and Chris wished he would smile so he could stop seeing the distort between this face and the face of his...No Other Chris’ nightmares.

“You know she’s got a point.” Aunt Paige piped up from the foyer. She stood there with her arms crossed while Phoebe was standing beside her, looking like nervous energy embodied. Paige had that understanding look she had when dealing with her charges and crisis’ that came up at Magic School. It was so familiar and strange at the same time. He had seen her before all of that. Before she joined the school and began to pass on her knowledge. He had seen her go through her temp jobs attempting to find a life outside of the magic. She had eventually embraced it but it was like whiplash to see her confidence now in her field.

Phoebe on the other hand was practically bouncing. He suddenly wondered if the potion he took to block her empathy now worked but from her reaction, it didn’t. She must have a headache like his, feeling the swell of just his emotions alone? It felt like a tide to him, that he would be pulled under and slammed against the rocks, he couldn’t imagine what she felt. Paige must have talked to her if she was keeping quiet this long. He held no illusions that he was going to be ambushed later.

Chris looked back at his parents, his mother looked annoyed and brushed the hair out of her face and let a small smile grace her features. “Okay, you’ve got a point.” She conceded and Chris looked at his dad who still looked a little distressed, he hadn’t stopped rubbing Chris’ back even when Chris sat back up. Almost like he was afraid Chris would disappear under his fingertips again. He looked back at Chris and sent him a reassuring smile. The smile he knew all his life from his very present and loving father.

They all sat in silence before Melinda finally broke it. Sweet and devious Melinda who Chris was now more than ever thankful was there.

“So if it’s all settled, maybe not continue with the party, but I’d like some of that cake.” Melinda stood up and brushed off her jeans and waved her hand, a bottle of aspirin appeared on the table in a flurry of orbs. “And that’s for you big bro. Thanks for saving our world.”

Chris couldn’t help laughing again, his head hurt from the release of smiling but he appreciated her. “Got my ass kicked and actually died and my reward was a massive mental hangover and a bottle of aspirin.” He still leaned forward and shook out a couple and took them quickly, swallowing them dry.

“Hey! I said thank you. And even got you a kickass present.” Melinda rolled her eyes playfully. Chris smiled at her and looked at Wyatt. He was still quiet and appeared to be thinking. “Wy?” His older brother blinked his awareness and looked him in the eye. It took a moment and Chris felt tension rising in his shoulders. What if Wyatt hated him? It was an irrational thought but it still twisted in his brain until his big brother gave him a small smile. “I’m just trying to think if I can remember you from before. You know when I was little?” He shook his head. “I can’t really but it might come to me.”

That’s right. Wyatt was a toddler. He had enough knowledge and sense to know a threat when he felt one back then. Throwing up his shield against Chris when they were alone until Chris earned his trust. A toddler’s trust. Chris had flashes of glaring at the babe in their mother’s arms. Of worrying if the looks on his brother’s face would morph into those evil smiles, he was acquainted. It hurt to remember because he wasn’t used to it but he couldn’t help snorting at Wyatt. “I remember though, you were a pretty cute kid, when you weren’t summoning dragons or playing with manticores or dirtying your diaper.” Wyatt flipped him off and finally cracked a full smile. He reached forward so fast that Chris didn’t have a chance to stop himself from flinching back. Wyatt’s hand stopped midway over the coffee table and pulled back. Everyone seemed to hold their breath.

Wyatt looked so hurt and Chris couldn’t offer him anything other than a muttered, “Reflex.”

It didn’t seem to be enough, Wyatt still looking as though he had been kicked. He only hummed for a moment and stood up. He was trying not to look upset but he couldn’t hide it well, not from his little brother. Chris knew him inside and out and now he had even more knowledge rattling around in his brain. Wyatt shoved his hands into his pant pockets, “I’m going to help Mel.” Nevermind that Mel never needed any help, but his sister took pity on their older brother and grabbed his elbow tugging him out of the parlor into the living room towards the kitchen.

Phoebe watched him the hardest and before he could even open his mouth to talk to her, Paige interrupted him. “I think you should sit and relax, your head must be killing you. We’ll talk later when you’re feeling up to it. Won’t we Phoeb?” She turned a knowing smile to the middle sister and Phoebe nearly imploded but a look from Piper added finally made her deflate. “Yea… But we will be talking!” She said. Chris let out a snort and nodded his agreement. This was so much right now. He needed to lay down. Settle his thoughts.

Turning to look at his parents, he almost didn’t want to move. He was surrounded by people his other self didn’t have. Either taken from him or neglected him. Being between the two people who raised him created a safe feeling he didn’t think he’d ever get anywhere else. But he needed to be alone. It was an instinctual need, he didn’t know if it was from him or the Other Chris. He was a normally private person but Other Chris was the extreme to his personality.

This was so confusing.

“I’m going to go lay down… My head’s killing me. Save me a piece of cake?” He didn’t want to leave but he needed some space.

HIs mother blinked and looked shocked but slowly nodded,“Okay peanut, whatever you say,” She kept rubbing his back and reached up, brushing his hair from his face. “Just come down when you’re feeling better.” He moved to stand and she mirrored him. Wrapping her arms around him and hugging him tightly. He returned her hug and it was hell to pull away but this was too much, “I’ll save you a half for us to share later.” She whispered in his ear before he was able to take a full step back and he gave her a half-smile and turned, his father had stood and pulled him into a hug as well. This was harder to pull away from. Other Chris had been friends with Leo, trusted him at the end and Leo trusted him but they had started out so apart. So incredibly distrustful that violence had actually occurred at one point. He loved his dad and his dad had loved him before he had even been born. He had to remember that. His dad had been with him at the moment of his death.
He squeezed him back tight before pulling away and not saying anything, he had to get out of there. He orbed up to his room and immediately shut and locked the door. Not that it mattered in a house where 3 out 5 people could orb. But it was a barrier he needed desperately.

It wasn’t like it was finally hitting, but all the talking had distracted him from the sick feeling in his stomach and his bedroom, his familiar comforting bedroom that had been his all his life suddenly swam as he saw what it had been before. Phoebe’s old room. The sick feel returned and he dashed to the bathroom, the shared bathroom, so he felt only slightly bad as he shut the door and locked both sides before dropping to his knees and vomiting up everything he had eaten from earlier that day.

He hacked until he couldn’t anymore and sat against the cabinet, his knees pulled up to his chest as he panted. This was all too much.

It was his fucking birthday.

Chapter Text

After heaving everything out of his stomach, Chris forced himself to stand up and brush his teeth. He stared at the sink and not the mirror, he didn’t think he could stare at himself and not have more flashbacks to the mirror in the back room of P3 or of the times he would inspect cuts on his face or neck in the dark future or even when he would cut his own hair. Just the thought alone of those memories coming at him full force made him want to puke again.

He rinsed his mouth out and made his way into his room and practically fell onto the bed. He still felt sick but nothing was going to come up this time. He rubbed at his abdomen where the athame had sunk into the hilt. He remembered it as vividly as he had remembered everything else. The flash of pain that had extended throughout his middle, it hadn’t honestly been anything new. He had been stabbed before, cut, burned… His body from the future had been abused to literal hell and back. But the betrayal as he fell to the floor, the knowledge that an Elder, someone they trusted from the beginning had done it, that had radiated through his body. He had seen Gideon holding the athame in before pulling back, Chris was practically leaning on the Elder and Chris could clearly remember calling for his dad before he fell to the side. Gideon was strong enough to push through the muscle and even if he had gotten to a hospital, even in that twisted world, he would have probably lost muscle mass and had massive internal bleeding.

He sighed and stopped rubbing the area glancing at the mirror across from him. Seeing his hair the way he had styled it that morning. Short and a little mousse to give it volume, but since he had such a bad habit of running his hands through his hair, it was messy. A “bedhead without actually trying” as Melly had once said to him. He hadn’t wanted to look in the mirror and he was right not to, he could remember his hair being short and uneven because he didn’t have money for a haircut and he had done it himself, or long because he had let it grow out to blend with demons who didn’t care about personal hygiene. When Piper… No, his mom had realized who he was in the past, it was the first time in a long time he had food and money and someone caring enough about his appearance to make himself look presentable.

Chris shivered violently as the images of his own face in a mirror swam in front of his eyes. A million faces with a million different expressions. It was dizzying, almost like one of those morphing programs they used on tv to blend faces.

He closed his eyes and then a thought struck him and he had to know. He opened his eyes again and stood up, unbuttoning his shirt. He walked closer to the mirror and pulled it aside and looked at his chest. He was relieved to see no mark where the athame had been, but he could still feel the sting, the faint throbbing. He pulled his shirt the rest of the way off. It was so different to see himself shirtless like this with these new memories in his head. He had never shown it but he had so many scars from the future. And none of them were there.

Burns and gashes from demons that his dad couldn’t find time to heal, cuts from knives or burns from making potions with his mom and then without her there to guide him. And there were the marks Wyatt had let happen and didn’t heal, serving as some sort of lesson to his little brother. “Defy me and be scarred, Obey and I’ll heal you.”

But now there was nothing but smooth skin. There was dusting of dark hair across his chest and down to his belly button, but there were no scars. His brother had always been around to heal him. And Paige had learned eventually how to do it. Chris still had yet to learn, Leo explained his difficulties with it as him wanting to succeed so much he was psyching himself out. His dad had tried to explain that you had to let the feeling flow through you instead of forcing it because it would stop it. Aunt Phoebe had tried to help by saying it was like getting ketchup out of a glass bottle, shaking it and slapping the bottom didn’t work, but if you tilted it at the right angle it came out smoothly. Chris didn’t get it at the time and still didn’t, but he had laughed at his aunt trying to explain it without making overly sexual hand motions.

He ran a hand over the stab wound area again, it was tender from him rubbing it earlier, but there was nothing there. The distortions he saw in the mirror between his body then and his body now were continuing to make him dizzy and he made his way to his dresser and pulled out one of his sleep shirts. It was soft and comforting and he was 90% it was either his dad’s or his brother’s old shirts. He tugged it on and stripped out of his pants and socks, leaving only the shirt and boxers before climbing into bed and laying on his back. The ceiling helped ground him. It hadn’t changed from when Phoebe lived in this room. They had painted the walls from pink to very pale green to reflect a boy living there but the ceiling was still the same color.

Staring at it, he noticed it was the same color as when he died. A flash of pain went through him and he flinched, rolling onto his side. He didn’t die in this room. He died in his parent’s room, but the ceilings were all the same. He remembered panting, holding onto his dad’s hand, then Paige’s. Then the detectives came in, all wrong. Cheerful and happy and ready to let him die. Then his dad again… Telling him he couldn’t give up and even through the pain and knowing he was dying, telling his dad he couldn’t give up either...then finally letting go.

What happened after that? It was just blank to him. He tried to think of his earliest memory and it just added fuel to the fire that was his headache. The aspirin hadn’t helped much and he groaned, grabbing his pillow and pulling it over his face, trying to block out the memories, the images, the feelings. But he could see when he closed his eyes everything of Other Chris. Of his future that he desperately left. Of the missions with the sisters, his aunts and mom and dad. Of the time spent with little Wyatt. Of the hostility that eventually turned to trust and then a bond from his dad.

It kept playing behind his eyelids and despite it being not even late afternoon, he forced himself to sleep. He tried to ignore the tear tracks on his pillow as he tried to drift off. He couldn’t face anymore of this today. His brain was overworked and his body was reeling from injuries and scars that weren’t even there.

He did finally drift off, even in his dreams, his headache pounded.

All around him, lights flashed, colors pulsed. He couldn’t focus on just one thing. It was like a cacophony of voices and sound and all through it, his head pounded. Chris could feel it right in his temples but he didn’t have hands to reach up and press on the spots to relieve the pressure. He didn’t have a body but he still felt the pain of one. He floated amidst all the noise and color, shifting in and out of the dream.

He heard voices calling out his name, saying it in hundreds of different ways in hundreds of different voices, from screams and shouts to whispers and calls filled with love. He couldn’t see where the sound was coming from. He could feel himself surrounded but he didn’t know by what. It was a compressing force and he felt heat covering him and then swapping for freezing cold.

He couldn’t push it away from the pressure around him or run from it and felt it rising like a tide before crashing onto him…

Chris opened his eyes and for one blissful and bleary moment, he didn’t remember why he was sleeping or what had happened earlier and his head didn’t hurt.

And then the moment passed.

Chris groaned and rolled from his side onto his stomach, shoving his face into the pillow. The cool feeling of the fabric didn’t help and all he could feel was frustration. Adding to that, the motion of rolling over caused his head to respond by ramping up his migraine. He didn’t even know what time it was but he knew he needed to take something or his head would explode. Maybe not realistically but it definitely felt real enough. Just the sheer thought of opening his eyes and moving made him start to feel sick to his stomach but he pushed through it to right himself on his back and sit up.

It was dark outside, it was the first thing he noticed once he opened his eyes and forced them to focus. He glanced at his alarm clock, it was close to nine at night. How had he slept so long? He pulled at his t-shirt and found it stuck to his chest with sweat. He tried to listen past the roar of blood in his ears and didn’t hear any noise downstairs or out in the hall. He wondered if everyone was in bed or if his aunts had gone home. It was surprising that no one had tried to wake him but knowing his family… in two different realities. He knew they would have left him alone to think and absorb. At least in the case of his mom and his aunts and his dad. He was surprised Wyatt and Melinda hadn’t busted the door down to talk to him yet.

Chris shivered and grimaced, the sweat was cooling on his shirt and felt disgusting and restricting in the way only wet clothes could feel. So he peeled it off and tossed it in the general vicinity of his hamper. He’d deal with it later. Now in only his boxers, he pulled himself out of bed and had to steady himself against his dresser. The pain in his head was making him somewhat disoriented and dizzy. He wished he had the energy to shower but he would put it off. Even sleeping for hours he felt wrung out and exhausted. Like the years of running from the other timeline caught up with him and aged his body in ways he had never known before.

He ran a hand through his hair and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Did he dream? Looking at the bed, the covers were tossed all over the place and he was missing at least one pillow. He couldn’t remember any dreams. He knew he felt pain, it followed him into the dreams and out but he didn’t remember images. He was pretty good at remembering his dreams… Wasn’t he?

Which Him was it that was good at that? The previous Chris knew how to read Tarot cards and interpret signs and knew the names of nearly every soothsayer and psychic in the underworld. He remembered some distant voice saying he had a knack for it. But this Chris, did he do that? He didn’t know the underworld the same way, but he remembered studying the cards in school. But was he good at it? Did he have a knack for it?

He rubbed at his forehead, which was the real him and which was the previous? This blending and mixing was killing his brain and he groaned. He needed something to dull this headache or he might pass out.

It took a few minutes but he changed into a clean shirt and some sweatpants. With a house that had demons regularly breaking in, you didn’t wander the house in just boxers. He contemplated orbing to the kitchen and skipping the stairs but with how unsteady he felt and how hard it was to concentrate, he might end up outside or crashing into the kitchen table. So he risked the walk.

He steadied himself on the door frame of his bedroom and listened down the hall. There was no sound. No T.V. from Wyatt or Melinda’s room. No whispers or hushed voices from his parents. Maybe everyone was asleep, it wasn’t rare for his parents to be in bed before 9pm if possible. But Chris knew Wyatt could stay up until midnight some nights because he couldn’t sleep. And Melinda could go all night and still be chipper in the morning. Chris swore she lived on sugar sometimes to be able to keep that pace but then again she was 19.

He walked slowly down the hall, avoiding the squeaky floor boards and made it to the stairs, holding onto the railing tight as he quietly went down them. This was the wrong time to be having flashes of being thrown against these stairs in one timeline and fixing them with his dad in another. He had to pause on the landing and take a few breaths before continuing. The party had been cleaned up. Everything was in its place and it was empty. Small favors since he didn’t really feel like talking or fighting a demon.

The house was dark, with only the hall light above the stairs and the kitchen light on to guide anyone who would be wandering this time of night. His eyes were squinted but he made it to the kitchen. Entering sent another flash of memories through him. It was the smell, of cooking, of potions, of demon guts simmering… He had to grip the counter and swallow hard before he continued, going straight to the medicine cabinet and grabbed the big bottle of pain pills and popped two, swallowing them down with water from the sink. It was gross and it made him gag but the water did help with his headache.

He stood with his back to the sink, leaning forward on the island counter and watched the doorway to the dining room. From this vantage point he could see all the doors. This room was the most familiar to him outside of the attic. He spent nearly all of his time growing up here in the dark future before his mother died. Watching her cook and make potions and putter about generally. And in this timeline, sitting and doing homework with Wyatt while his mom watched, getting bandaids when someone scraped a knee or cut a finger, sneaking in through the back door with Wyatt after a night out to find their mother waiting with a lecture and a grounding… It all merged together. The attic might have been the source of knowledge for the Manor and the Nexus below was obviously the source of power. But this was the heart of the house to Chris.

He sighed and closed his eyes, willing the meds to work. And trying to straighten things in his brain. For the moment it didn’t feel like everything was pushing forward anymore to be remembered. It was coming more slowly, he started to try to pick out little snippets of things that he knew didn’t fit. The kitchen having scorch marks in the previous future but having none now. Seeing Wyatt, hair starting to go long coming up from the basement after banishing the Woogie. Knowing that was the previous timeline.

Remembering Melinda blowing up her first cauldron on accident because she added the wrong ingredients at the wrong time. Seeing Wyatt, hair short and face clean-shaven sitting at the table tossing the keys in the air and Chris orbing them over to his own hand as they waited for their little sister so they could take her driving.

But other things were coming too. When did they replace the counter the time it was burned by a potion? Was that this timeline? Who was with him when the oven was smoking so badly they had to air out the kitchen for 2 days?

For good measure he popped another two pills. He’d rather take more than less to get rid of his headache. As he faced the sink now, he stared out the window to the backyard. It would take time… Rearranging things and making them fit in the right places. And he would need help. It was his logical mind from here and now that knew he would need and have help. But the Other Chris didn’t want to rely on anyone, they had to do things alone.

He blinked and rubbed at his eyes before turning around, a thought to make some tea. It always helped with mom, when she made tea. Something calming, something he could physically hold and concentrate on as he sorted through things. It was something he could do on autopilot and he needed something to do or it felt like he would vibrate apart or be paralyzed by the memories as they began to shift and blend together.

He pulled the pot down and flinched at the clatter it made as he set it in the sink to be filled with water. Once done, he set it on the stove and turned it on, reaching for the cabinet next to it to find a flavor. He must have woken someone because he heard the sound of orbs from behind him while he was facing the stove and turned, finding Wyatt there. His blond hair was disheveled as if he had been running his fingers through it and he was also in his sleeping clothes. He looked like he hadn’t gotten to sleep at all, more like he had been pacing all night.

Chris froze instinctually. He had to force himself to meet Wyatt’s tired eyes. He used to stand so tall when Wyatt was in front of him. Show no fear and show that he was a Son of a Charmed One. He might not be Twice-Blessed, but he was still powerful in his own right. Wyatt could push the world around but Chris would never bow to him…

He shuddered and let out a breath, forcing himself to look at Wyatt closely. That wasn’t him. He didn’t need to be strong in front of his brother. This wasn’t an evil Wyatt. Chris stared at him, cataloging the details like short hair, no goatee, less muscle mass, and strangely the most important detail; No black clothing.

This Wyatt, HIS Wyatt, hated to wear black clothing. He always said it made him feel like he was going to a funeral or something formal. He would rather lounge around in loose clothing and brighter colors than ever wear black slacks and a tight t-shirt.

Chris blinked and consciously made himself relax his stance, hunching his shoulders even as something in his brain screamed at him to keep standing tall. Chris had to remember, this Wyatt wasn’t a threat. This was Wyatt. His Wyatt. His brother. His big brother, best friend and a giant golden retriever puppy. He could not and would not ever hurt Chris. It wasn’t ever in the realm of possibility here. But he kept seeing visions of him, long hair, stupid facial hair, flat and cold blue eyes. His body standing straight and confident and his voice soft with a steel edge to it.

This Wyatt lifted his hand slightly in a weak wave and his voice was soft as he spoke.

“Hey.”

Chris flinched automatically and shut his eyes. It took him a second to open them again and he could see the hurt expression on Wyatt’s face as his hand lowered. Chris swallowed hard.

“Hey Wyatt.”

He was surprised his voice didn’t shake as much as it felt like it should. Maybe it was the mask of confidence the other him was trying to pull on. Maybe it was him trying to talk to Wyatt like he always did. Maybe it was both.

It was silent in the kitchen for a few moments before Wyatt moved to sit at the table. He went slowly, like he was trying not to spook Chris.

The tea was behind him, he could feel the gentle heat from the steam at his back. He took steps away from it, moving to the corner counter next to the sink. Best vantage point in the kitchen to watch all the exits and see the best escape route, assuming he couldn’t orb…

Chris closed his eyes and rubbed his head, why was he looking for exits? It’s Wyatt. He would let him leave if Chris wanted to leave. Wyatt would leave the kitchen if Chris wanted it. He opened his eyes again and saw Wyatt looking at him like he was struggling not to move. Chris was glad he stayed still, he didn’t know if he could contain another flinch or keep from moving away. If he orbed now, where would he even end up in the panic it might induce?

It remained quiet for a few more moments, Chris didn’t know what to say and Wyatt looked like he was thinking hard, but staring right at his little brother. If this wasn’t so awkward and the situation vastly different, Chris would tease him for looking like he was dealing with a math problem.

“Are you afraid of me or...him?” Wyatt asked finally. His face still looked like he was struggling but Chris couldn’t recall ever seeing him look… so shaken too. Like the world was crumbling around him, BECAUSE of him. The Other Wyatt would have rejoiced in the idea of the world crumbling around him, TO him, to his will.

It took Chris a while to answer and the water started to boil in the pot on the stove, the gentle sound helping to ground Chris. He knew that sound and focused on it to keep him in the here and now.

“I… I’m not afraid of you.” He started with, leaning back against the corner cabinet and crossing his arms. “It’s just that, him...you…”

They were different. He had to keep telling himself that. Keep spotting the differences.

“He was evil. He hurt a lot of the people I loved. And hurt me. That's why I came back to stop him.” Chris’ eyes darted to the pot and then the door without his conscious thought. Checking exits and preparing a weapon. Boiling water thrown to the face was a hell of a distraction… He put a stop to that thought and focused on the sound of the water.

“I’m not him.” Wyatt said after a moment, he was staring at Chris like he was a wild animal who would attack. But also looked incredibly hurt. . “You know I would never hurt you… right?”

Chris slowly nodded. Pointing out the differences to himself. Loose clothing, less put together, short hair, no goatee, no black, no smirk, no pain, no cold eyes… He listed everything he could in his head before opening his mouth to speak. “I know.” He said quietly.

“I’m trying… It’s all blending together Wy. I’m trying…” He reached up and touched his temple, “I’m trying to keep it straight in here. I’m trying to focus on here. Who I am here.” He frowned and dropped his hand. “I don’t know how to… Sort it all.”

The tea was beginning to whistle and Chris went to the stove. It felt so incredibly wrong to turn his back to Wyatt and he had to force himself to trust his brother. Wyatt had never hurt him and never taken advantage of his open back before. He would never attack him from behind.

It was completely automatic as he poured the water into two mugs and dropped two bags into each. Wyatt was silent so Chris focused on his hands and doing the work, adding milk to his and sugar to Wyatt’s before turning around again and carrying them over to the table. He had stared at the floor as he walked, so when he sat down across from Wyatt, it took self-control not to flinch at being so close to a figure that had haunted his nightmares in the other timeline.

Wyatt watched him and stayed quiet as he took his mug, waiting for the bag to finish seeping out before he drank it.

It was silent in the kitchen and Chris watched his big brother while Wyatt watched him. They never were silent with each other. It was joking and laughter and gentle jibes and serious talks. They were never the kind of siblings who liked to be quiet around each other. It was awkward and Chris sighed, slumping back in his chair a bit. At least the meds were kicking in and his headache was slipping away.

It felt like an eternity and Chris couldn’t take it anymore. “Are you going to say anything?” He asked.

Wyatt frowned back at him. “Like what? I’m the big bad wolf in your brain and I don’t know how to fix that.” He snapped back. “I’m trying to figure out ways to help you, but I don’t know any that wouldn’t backfire. We could bind these memories so you never had them at all, but obviously they were given to you for a reason so it’s probably not a good idea to get rid of them immediately, not to mention you could lose your whole memory if we fuck it up.”

Wyatt shook his head and gestured to the ceiling, meaning the book and the attic. “I also thought about maybe making a double of you to put the memories in so you could talk to yourself or something? But that just spells disaster because A) that double might want to kill me and B) How would we tell you apart?”

“Not to mention, C) That’s a stupid fucking idea.” Chris rolled his eyes and Wyatt flipped him off. “What about making a potion so that you see the memories but don’t feel them?” Wyatt suggested.

Chris suddenly had a flashback, that happened didn’t it? With Piper when Leo left that first time… “Nope. No way, won’t work.” He said confidently and Wyatt frowned at him. “How do you know?”

“We tried it before, the sisters and me…” He stopped himself and took a deep breath. “Aunt Phoebe and Aunt Paige, in the past, when dad left to become an Elder. Mom was really upset so they made some kind of spell and mom forgot everything. She thought she was a valkyrie for a while… Or got really chipper…” He frowned and stared at the wood grain of the table, which one was it first? The valkyrie? Or was it the chipper thing? “I… think. It’s all… jumbled in here.” He muttered as he looked back up at Wyatt.

His brother was staring at him like he was crazy. Chris gripped his mug, having yet to drink out of it. He had to take deep breaths to force himself to talk. He could talk to Wyatt, he could always talk to Wyatt about anything.

“It… hurts.” His shoulders deflated a bit as if a weight was pressing on them and he leaned forward, setting his forearms on the table while his hands let go of the mug and rose to his head, resting it in his palms and staring at the table top. “It’s like everything is mixing together and things keep popping up. I’m trying to keep it straight but every time I think I have a handle on it, things go spiraling again.” He said, his voice getting more and more quiet. It still didn’t shake though. He was oddly proud of that.

“I can’t figure out how to keep things straight. I can’t remember how things really are. Or when they happened.” He lifted his head to look around the kitchen, trying to find an example and settled on the wood top of the island. “When did we replace that?” He asked, pointing at it. “Why did we replace it?”

Wyatt looked where he was pointing. “2 years ago. Melinda let a potion overboil and it destroyed the countertop.” He answered looking back at his brother with a strange expression. It took a moment for Chris to realize it was fear… and pity.

He frowned back at Wyatt, feeling a little bit of anger. He shouldn’t be pitied. He didn’t need pity. It didn’t get the job done, he didn’t have time to feel pity for himself or anyone else! He didn’t need the false sympathies of people who had no idea the places he had been or the dangers he had faced! Especially from his golden big brother...

Chris groaned and rested his head in his hands again. “Not me….” He whispered out loud, shaking his head back and forth. “It’s not me.” That wasn’t him. This wasn’t him. There was no mission, no job to get done. He could have empathy here, people were sincere here, his brother wasn’t some golden boy. They were both children of a Charmed One. They were a duo, both special and no one was favored over the other. He was safe here, he didn’t have to fight for his life. He was safe here.

He jumped as a hand touched his shoulder. He squeezed his eyes shut but he didn’t look up though, he had to remind himself, he knew his brother wouldn’t hurt him. “Wyatt,” His voice was quiet and now he heard it shaking. He exhaled a breath, “I'm really scared…” He whispered.

The pressure of the hand increased on his shoulder and he leaned into it. “What if I forget who I am here and turn into him?” Chris felt tears pooling in his eyes but he squeezed them tighter, trying to force them away.

He was tugged into a strong body and he instinctively hugged Wyatt back, holding onto his brother tight. He knew this. He knew he could count on this. He buried his head in his brother’s shoulder with a sob. This close he could smell Wyatt’s cologne from earlier in the day. He knew that smell, he bought him that cologne as a present one year for Christmas. He would know his brother’s smell anywhere. He let out another choked sob and finally let himself relax and cry. Tears coming down his face as he held onto his big brother, trusting him to keep him steady and safe.

Wyatt had rubbed his back through his crying and once his sobs had started to quiet, he began to speak.

“You won’t forget. None of us will let you forget who you are.” Wyatt was quiet but his voice was confident. “Even if you did. The man that saved me? I don’t think I would mind knowing him. Obviously he did a good job, I mean, look how I turned out.” Chris snorted a laugh and Wyatt chuckled, the vibration going through Chris’ cheek. “You’re an asshole.” Chris mumbled as he pulled back to look at Wyatt.

His big brother was smiling at him, though his eyes were wet with tears too. “Yea but you love me.” He said as he reached up and ruffled Chris’ hair. “And you got snot all over me so, I guess we’re even.” Chris laughed again and pulled away fully, using one of the napkins on the table to wipe at his face. Wyatt did the same and then sat across from him again. It was still awkward with no one talking but Chris did feel better. This was Wyatt, his brother. He cared and would never hurt him. He would help him, he’d always help him.

“At least my headache is going away.” Chris mumbled.

Wyatt leaned on his hand and looked at Chris seriously. “I think there’s only one thing to do.” He said finally.

“What’s that?” Chris didn’t really want to know what Wyatt had come up with. And he was tired again and didn’t really want to do anything.

“I think…”

“Radical idea there.” Chris chimed in as he blew his nose in the napkin.

“Fucker… I think you should tell me everything.” Wyatt shifted to sit up straighter. “Everything you remember about the past and the other timeline. Every. Detail. Especially about this Evil Me. And I’ll help you piece together what fits and what doesn’t.” Chris stared at him like he was joking but Wyatt’s face was serious.

“Everything?”

“Every. Single. Detail.” Wyatt repeated. “What I was like, how I turned evil, what mom and dad were like, what our family was like, what the future was like. Everything. Then about how you went to the past. We can have mom and dad and our aunts here for that one and then we’ll all work together to get things straight.”

He didn’t know if he could do that. If he could pick things apart enough to just tell Wyatt everything. “Tonight?”

“No, but obviously this isn’t going away. And it’s going to keep hurting you until we fix it. So over the next couple of days or something. Mom will let you have days off with the restaurant, there’s perks to being the owner’s kid. And we don’t have any pressing demon cases. My charges will be fine, we can work around calls if needed.” Wyatt gestured to Chris’ body. “You have to get this out and we’re going to help. And we can start now or we can start tomorrow. That’s your choice, but i’m not going to let my little brother keep suffering.”

Chris was a little taken aback… Mainly because it seemed like a smart plan and Wyatt wasn’t the best with smart plans. He looked down at his tea mug, untouched and probably on it’s way to being cold. Would talking about it help? Wyatt could point out differences between this life and before.

It took a few minutes but finally Chris looked up. “Alright.” He said meeting Wyatt’s warm, not cold, blue eyes.

“We can start tonight.”

Chapter Text

6:30AM

With early morning light coming through the windows, Chris was exhausted. He and Wyatt had stayed up all night. At one point, they had moved their conversation from the kitchen, with the tea going cold and practically untouched, to the living room. Chris ended up lying lengthwise on the decorative couch while Wyatt paced back and forth under the chandelier, taking breaks to sit on the bottom steps of the stairs and think. Chris had stopped watching him at one point and stared at the ceiling, not just because it helped ground him but also because Wyatt was making him damn dizzy.

There were huge periods of silence as Chris tried to sort things out. They had started with little memories, small details that helped to ground him. This Chris was the one who had a knack for divination, the previous him just used it more. He could remember going to nearly every soothsayer to divine his conception date to get Piper and Leo to hook up and create him. Wyatt had made a grossed out face that had Chris laughing quietly so they didn’t wake anyone.

Most of their conversations had to do with Melinda. She was the main focus as her presence helped set apart the memories.. She didn’t exist before. It was easy at times to remember when the next gen Charmed Ones were together for the big stuff. When the three of them took out a small faction of darklighters after the 3 half-lighters. When there was a pack of demons who wanted the Nexxus and though they could gain access by kidnapping the three young witches and their parents and aunts rescued them with a highly stupid but thankfully effective plan.

Those were easy memories. Anything with Melly made sense to him.

It was little things, what things happened and who they happened with. Was Melly with them when they were stuck in that sticker bush going after a demon chasing Dryads in the park? The answer had been a groaned ‘Yes’ and Wyatt told him that she had teased them both for weeks because of their idiotic idea to chase the demon into said sticker bushes.

There were other questions about Chris’ life. He had never had charges in his old life before but who was it he had first been paired with? Was it a blond young female witch or was it that brunette male witch from South America? How old was Chris?

Wyatt had looked at him strangely but had told him it was the male witch, Stefan. Chris was 21, and the young man still called on him now and then for advice but he had found his calling and his true power. Chris had to tell Wyatt who the blond witch was, and he had made a face when Chris remembered sleeping with her… The day the cleaners tried to erase Wyatt from existence.

Wyatt had baulked at that, his mother and aunts had told him the story. A summoned dragon and an entire day where he didn’t exist but they had fixed it and brought him back, it was why they often had to be more than careful now about their use of powers. Hearing it from Chris because he remembered it..? It threw him for a loop. And led into a conversation about Wyatt as a little baby, what Chris had done for him and seen.

The demon clan who had tried to turn Wyatt evil, Chris getting through the shield to change him back. The Manticore baby incident. Wyatt didn’t remember the boy but Chris did and how scary it was for him to see a demon spending time with his big brother, having memories of him with his demon lackeys.

Now Chris lay with his eyes closed, his headache was down to a small pulse, not exactly painful but the pull behind his eyes and the dull pressure at his hairline across his forehead were still indicators that it had never truly gone away nor would it until he possibly got some sleep.

Wyatt had been pacing for several minutes but as it got lighter outside, he had slowed down and Chris could hear him coming nearer. It took less effort not to tense up as the sound now, maybe he was just so tired he didn’t care anymore. Or maybe it was just for a moment, he knew where he was and that his brother would never hurt him. There was a squeak of the floorboards and then pressure against his side where it was near the edge of the couch. He opened his eyes to see Wyatt had sat down on the floor beside the couch, his back facing him. He was running a hand through his short blond hair and Chris could see his shoulders were tense. Being this close wasn’t setting off alarm bells for the moment and it felt nice to Chris, to be able to just sit with his big brother. They were an affectionate family and it felt...right to have Wyatt be there for him, this pillar of solid strength that Chris could rely on. Chris often was the same for his big brother, while Wyatt was about the physical, Chris was the mental. He could chill Wyatt out any day, making him think through his plans… Especially the incredibly STUPID plans he had.

Which… That tense set to his shoulders meant he was thinking...and planning. Chris didn’t really want to disturb the early morning silence, but Wyatt thinking was never a good thing in either universe. The Other Chris had seen Wyatt make dark plans that meant probable death and pain. Here, Chris rubbed his forehead as he thought of the multitude of just… dumbassery that his brother could concoct. Wasn’t it a few hours ago that his brother had suggested making a clone of Chris to put all these memories into?

He sighed and dropped his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “What are you thinking?” He asked. His voice was somewhat hoarse from talking and from lack of sleep. Wyatt shrugged off his hand and Chris pulled it back to rest on his own stomach.

“I’m not thinking.” Was Wyatt’s reply and Chris snorted and he shifted to get more comfortable, his eyes shutting again. “You’re always thinking. It’s why I can usually find you, the smoke smell is a pretty good give away.” Chris said and jumped when Wyatt flicked his ear. He opened his eyes to Wyatt glowering at him. “Funny.” Chris returned his look and settled himself comfortably again. It felt good to be able to joke with his brother again. Normal even. He didn’t want to shatter this little peace in his head. Things felt normal for just this moment but he was exhausted, now over-tired if anything. But he had to wonder, if he went to bed now and woke up, would he remember Wyatt was good? Would he be able to be around him without flinching still? Would he remember all the awful things he did and fear him again?

“Now who's the one thinking?” Wyatt asked him and Chris looked at his big brother. “I can see the thoughts flying over your head.” He commented as he turned to look at Chris fully from his seat on the floor. Chris studied his face, the sharp jawline, the stubble from not shaving. His eyes were the most familiar part about him and they were filled with concern though his tone had been joking.

Chris turned his head to look at the ceiling again and sighed, “Just… We went through only a little and it’s already morning. I’m exhausted but if I go to sleep and wake up, will I still flinch around you? Am I still going to be remembering all of these details and feel like I have to be on guard around you?”

He heard Wyatt move and saw him drag a hand over his face from the corner of his eye. “I was thinking of that too… We only went over a couple of things… But I don’t know what will…” He trailed off. “What’s that word that we use in class…” He said mostly to himself it seemed as he stared off, trying to remember the right term. “Trigger you?” He said waving his hand to gesture to Chris. “What might set you off and make you react defensively.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “Yea I know what Trigger means dumbass.” Wyatt huffed in a way very similar to his mother before continuing on.

“So you get it, I don’t know what’s going to trigger you. Or what will trigger memories, hell you almost had a seizure when you actually got these memories, what will happen if you suddenly get hit by a flashback?” Wyatt looked concerned and confused and Chris couldn’t blame him. He didn’t know what might happen either. So far everything had been just intense and his headache had ramped up and he had thrown up but he hadn’t fainted again.

“I just….” He trailed off and groaned a little, “I don’t have any other choice...We’ll just have to see. There’s so much unknown about this… I know it’s not in the Book.” That made him frown and he reached up to rub his forehead. “I’ve read through that thing a million times…” In both timelines, all his life he had studied that book. The art work, the lettering, the stories, the demons, the spells, the magical creatures… He knew it frontwards and backwards. He sat up slowly and dropped his hand, staring at his knees as he thought. It was still so much… It hadn’t even been 24 hours and so much had happened. He had gone over little things, some big events but not enough… And all of it with Wyatt, he still had to talk to his mom and…

His dad. Leo, the Elder-turned-human. His dad had held him during his last breath and before that Chris had pummeled him and tried to kill him as a Spider Demon. And before that had gone through time with him and before that had attempted to kill him on the Island of the Valkyries. He had been with him for so much and Leo had carried all those memories by himself while Chris had grown up. What had that been like for his dad? Seeing Chris turn into the face that he saw die in his bed? And his previous memories, watching his father walk away from him or orb away from him. Seeing him dote on Wyatt while Chris sat on the side and wished for his father to just look his way. His father orbing away from him while Chris stood there after telling him about his mother dying…

His headache was ramping up again and he went from rubbing his forehead to clutching it. His fingers digging in his hair and gripping hard, the pain helping to dull the headache but also to ground him to where he was for the moment. His dad was loving, his dad was with him all of his life, loving the both of them equally. He had memories of riding on Leo’s shoulders as a boy, catching fireflies in the park, being taught how to do light shows by a man with no powers. Being read bedtime stories and given cookies behind mom’s back...

“Hey.” Wyatt’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, hands were tugging away the hand from his hair and he had to look Wyatt in the eye. Those intense blue eyes were the spitting image of his dad’s. “Chris.” The sound of his name helped to ground him and he let out a breath. You’re really pale, you okay?” Wyatt asked, reaching out to touch Chris’ forehead where he had been gripping it. Chris knew without it happening yet that Wyatt was about to try to heal him. He didn’t flinch away but he did lean away and brush his brother’s hand aside, “I’m fine.”

Wyatt didn’t look offended at the brush off, but he didn’t look convinced either. “You should get some sleep.” He said as he stood up and looked at the light through the windows, it was still pale blue morning light, the city covered by the smog and mist off the bay. It would burn off by 10 or 11 but for now it was that kind of time where it felt quiet and mystical.

Chris looked at his brother and outside as well before sighing. “Yea… Maybe.” He said as he heaved himself up off the couch and stretched, feeling his back pop from laying down so long. Though he knew as Wyatt headed for the stairs that he probably wouldn’t fall asleep. Now he was thinking of dad, of all the things they shared in the previous timeline… Of what he shared in this one but as a different Chris… Is this what being crazy felt like? Not voices in your head but memories and feelings from someone who wasn’t you but who was you?

Chris stumbled after Wyatt as he headed for the stairs first. He would need to talk to his dad when he woke up. There was a lot they would need to talk about.

Heading up to his room and following Wyatt, he paused at the closed door of his parents room. He remembered dying in that room. He felt a shudder pass through him and he watched Wyatt head into his own doorway and turn to look at him. Chris looked between his room and Wyatt’s. Honestly, he didn’t want to sleep yet. He wanted to wake up his dad and talk to him, but it was nearly time for his parent’s alarm to go off, he could wait until he was up before he bothered him… And maybe sleeping might help before that long conversation.

He walked to his own room, Wyatt still awkwardly hanging in his own doorway. “Night Chris.” He said and gave a half-hearted wave. Chris turned to shut his door, “Night Wy.” He replied before shutting his door.

It was way too quiet in his room but he didn’t want to wake the rest of the household just to shut out the noise in his head, so he made his way to the bed and crawled under the sheets, burying his head in the pillows and covering his face with the cool fabric. It didn’t actually take him long to fall asleep this time.

[i]Colors were more muted this time. There were still voices but they were calmer, he could hear his name being said over and over again, different voices, female and male and blended together. They were more gentle and there wasn’t any urgency to them.

He was warm and someone was hugging him and holding him and spinning him around and holding him up and swinging him. He didn’t see any faces, or bodies, but the sensations were there. It was loving touches and gestures. He reached for them, the pain in his head wasn’t there anymore and he swore he could smell the detergent his mom always used on his dad’s flannels.

He pushed to that smell. The arms holding him were definitely ones he recognized now, his dad hugging him, holding him up when he fell, spinning him around as a toddler, pushing him on a swing, carrying him on his shoulders… [/i]

There were hands in his hair, pushing it away from his forehead. He was still half-asleep when he muttered, “Dad…” He opened his eyes and everything was blurry for a moment before he saw Leo’s face. He was sitting on the edge of the bed and brushing his bangs back from his face. It felt like Chris hadn’t gotten any sleep at all. Like he had blinked and his dad had suddenly appeared. But from the sunny light through the window and the fact his dad was fully dressed, he assumed it was now midmorning.

“Morning.” His dad said, a small smile on his face. Something the other Chris was so furious at sometimes. That hopeful, little knowing smile. Sometimes finding it cocky or stupid when Leo would use that tone like he was superior because he had been alive for over 100 years. Because he knew everything and rubbed it in Chris’ face.

But that was also the smile that meant winks and hugs and snuggles and extra cookies and play time and secrets from mom that she would definitely find out about and in-jokes between father and son.

Chris groaned and sat up, watching the smile melt from his father’s face and be replaced with a look of concerned, furrowed eyebrows and a downward tilt to his mouth. “You okay?”

Chris shook his head and looked around the room, seeing his clock read 10:30. He had only slept around 3 hours…

“Tired… Lots of stuff to sort through.” He muttered in response to his dad before leaning back against his headboard. Eyeing his dad at the side of his bed. The other Chris wouldn’t want Leo this close to him at the beginning, didn’t trust the man who had ignored him most of his life, but then again right around the end, Chris would have done anything to be closer to his dad. And now he was… This was him, he was close with his dad and it was normal for his dad to be by his bedside when he felt sick or hurt.

“Wyatt and I stayed up talking… Trying to piece things together…” He said, trailing off as he looked around the room, part of his brain noting the old memories attached to each item he could see and part of his brain thinking of exits if he needed to get away without orbing.

Leo nodded, seemingly ignoring Chris studying the room around them. “Yea I thought I heard voices last night. I got up to use the bathroom and I could hear you two downstairs. Did it help?”

Chris shrugged, “A little. There’s still so much to sort out in my head.” He reached up and rubbed at his hairline on his forehead, the pressure was finally gone but it felt like it could emerge any second if he simply breathed wrong. “We had to start with Melinda… She wasn’t there before, it was easier to pick out what happened with her.” He explained, dropping his hand to his lap.

His dad nodded slowly, “Yea, you never mentioned a sister in the future. It was a surprise to us when your mom found out she was pregnant again.” His dad took a deep breath, the wrinkles around his eyes tightening as he frowned, “Chris… All the stuff you went through, all the pain and grief, is it all still there?” He asked and it hit Chris how much his dad might not know. He had kept everything so close to the chest at first and still didn’t let a whole lot slip until much later. When it was too late.

“Yea.” He said looking directly at his dad, “It’s all there now. It’s like a dream some moments and like i’m back there at others. I remember you pushing me on a swing at a park at the same time as you orbing away with Wyatt and leaving me alone.” He took a deep breath. “I swear it happened on the same day but I know it didn’t… Somewhere in here I know it didn’t happen this time.” He poked at his own temple. “But it’s so confusing. Just trying to remember who the real me is.”

His dad stared at his face and Chris could see him looking back and forth between his eyes as if he was searching for something. What if because of this new set of memories, his dad didn’t want him anymore? He hadn’t been fond of Chris Perry. He had downright hated and distrusted him. What if that was coming to the surface now?

Chris tensed up, he could feel his shoulders rising, if Leo decided to move wrong, he’d orb to the other side of the room, or the hallway, or the attic to get away and think of a plan of attack…

“Chris.” His dad’s voice was soft and he raised a hand to settle heavily on Chris’ shoulder. “Calm down, you’re okay.” He said, giving the shoulder a squeeze. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Chris had to take a few deep breaths and force himself to relax. “Dad.” He said quietly. He opened his mouth but he didn’t know what to say. What did he say about the storm brewing in his head? He remembered at least two fist fights, a few screaming matches and then right at the end, strong hugs and crying and a sense of relief that his family would be safe because he had done what he had to do. How did you sum up all of that?

“Chris, look at me.” Chris didn’t know when he had dropped his eyes to look at his dad’s shirt collar instead of his face. That was dangerous, taking your eyes off of a possible opponent. But his dad wasn’t an opponent, he was his dad, the same man who he had helped fix things around the house and make inside jokes about his mom and siblings.

Chris groaned out loud, “My head’s starting to hurt again.”

Leo’s hand on his shoulder squeezed gently again. “We’ll get you some tylenol in a second. But can you look at me?” His dad’s voice was gentle too and Chris finally looked at his dad’s blue eyes, the same eyes Wyatt had.

“I know it’s a lot in your head and there were things that I did and said to you that I'm not proud of. I’ve been regretting them since the moment I found out you were my son. I regretted never apologizing to you properly and then you were gone before I could.” His dad had tears in his eyes.

“The You that came from the future to save Wyatt did more than that. You saved your whole family. You saved the world. I never had a chance to thank you for that either.” His dad gave him a watery smile. “So i’m thanking you now. You have all these memories and we’ll all be here to help you through them. So I want you to know I’m sorry for every wrongful thing I did to you in your old timeline, in the past of this timeline when we first met and I’m grateful to you.” His dad gave him only a second to begin to process that before Chris had strong arms wrap around him and pull him into a hug. His dad’s voice was quiet as he said words the Other Chris would have wept at. “And I’m so very proud of you.”

Chris tensed up for a moment before those words hit and he returned the hug, grasping onto his dad’s shirt and holding on tight. His head was pounding from the extra pressure of the memories and the emotions and the general feeling of when your sinuses fill up because you’re crying.

And Chris was crying now, he turned his head to bury it in his dad’s shoulder and he knew he was getting tears and snot all over his dad’s shoulder but he didn’t care. Both versions of Chris needed this hug from their dad and needed those words and for a moment everything was finally right.

“I love you Chris.” His dad said it at a normal volume but it rung through his head strongly and he let out a sob. “I love you too dad.” He whispered back. As much as he wanted to continue being held by his father, he did pull away, wiping at his eyes and giving his dad an embarrassed smile. Sure they were a family who shared their emotions (having an empath for an aunt kind of forced it) but he didn’t like crying in either timeline.

His dad smiled and reached up, brushing Chris’ hair back from his face, “Come on, let’s get you something for your head.” Chris nodded and waited for his dad to stand up before he crawled off the bed, using his T-shirt to wipe his face and then pulling it off, “I’m going to shower first. I’ll meet you guys downstairs?” With so little sleep, so much pressure in his head and not to mention having vomited the day before, he felt more than a little disgusting and gross.

“I’ll see you down there. But you might want to hurry, I can only contain your mom so long.” His dad joked before leaving the room and shutting his door on the way out.

Chapter Text

It took him only a few minutes to actually get clean in the shower, scrubbing his hair and body until his skin was pink and he finally felt the sweat come off from where it had gathered after his chaotic dreams. He then stood for a bit, taking his time under the hot spray. Trying to organize his thoughts. Little tidbits of a life he had lived before flashing behind his eyes at the most random times. It was so hard to remember this only started yesterday afternoon, it felt like a lifetime ago that he orbed to escape the house on his birthday.

He had to shake his head to remember that his mom was waiting for him… It felt almost like checking off a list, first a talk with his brother, now his dad, his mom was next… And who knew when his aunts would get involved? Not to mention his cousins. What did you even say to people who didn’t exist before? How to explain that to them?

And Melinda… How did he act around someone who wasn’t a possibility in that future? Even if His mom and dad had stayed together long enough, would she have lived the same life as him? Second Child, Youngest Child, overshadowed by their Twice-Blessed brother? Would she had survived his initial killing spree the way Chris had, by hiding and swearing a false loyalty to Wyatt just to live? Would she have bowed or would she have died?

He felt his eyes getting hot and it wasn’t just from the steam of the shower. The idea of his little sister, pain though she may be at times, being killed by their older brother for disloyalty… He could feel the pain almost physically, wanting to rip out his heart. He loved his little sister and though she was so independent, he would always want to protect her.

Just one more life he had given his to save.

Chris focused himself and stuck his head under the spray, letting the water wash away any evidence of him getting teary. Some deep instinct he had never had before told him he had to be strong and hide his emotions. He didn't have time to be vulnerable. He rubbed at his face and attempted to finish his shower. Though once again he lost himself in the feeling of the hot water. In his past timeline, showers weren’t really rare, but being able to take a long one to clear his head was. And when he was in the Sister’s past, it was very rare to have a good shower. At first, it was sneaking into hotel rooms when he was first transported to the past, then quick ones at the manor or just wiping himself down at the club.

There was even the brief stint when he was undercover in the underworld where he didn’t bathe for weeks, his facial hair grown out, his hair long and greasy. It was perhaps the grossest he had ever felt and that was before the slime demon had tried to absorb him.

He shook his head, getting lost in the memories again. He turned the water on cold to shock himself more awake and aware of where he was. Letting the cool water run over his hair helped ease the tension that had happened when he spoke with his dad. He took a little extra time to just lose himself in the feeling of the cool water before stepping out and beginning to work on his face. Shaving and brushing his teeth until they felt like they were going to fall out. It was maybe a little OCD, but he felt better so it made it worth it. He forced himself to focus on bits of his face. Where the razor met his skin, his mouth, his hands or the foam. He didn’t want to stare at his full face and be consumed by thoughts as he had yesterday.

He ignored the mirror entirely as he toweled off his hair. His head was still sensitive but the pressing and vigorous scrubbing after the cold water helped to keep the pain at bay for the moment.

Stepping back into his room, a towel around his waist, he tried to center himself. This room used to be pink wallpaper, a huge queen bed in the middle with a large headboard that matched the dresser. A small sitting couch pushed into the nook of the window. A chair in the corner when you first entered the room under the arch. At one point, it became a sewing room/work out room when his aunt briefly moved out the first time. Was he there for that? He couldn’t remember… He knew it was a joke between siblings that the first to move out would have their room remodeled in a similar way even though they all knew it would never happen.

He tried to ground himself with the changes. In the old timeline, this had been his room but he hadn’t made any adult changes to it since vacating the house to live with his grandfather at 14. He had a twin bed then, the walls had stayed pink since Leo wasn’t around to help paint and they were expecting a girl. He had removed all of his possessions to leave; posters, toys, clothes, the small amount of photos he had with his family before everything was lost.

And then Wyatt had turned the Manor into a museum once Magic was shown to the world. Chris never understood why. What was the point of memorializing something he so strongly hated? But he had returned Chris’ room back to the way Phoebe had kept it before she moved out.

Phoebe had left shortly after Paige died. Claiming to need the space to grieve but Chris had always suspected her empath powers couldn’t let her be around anyone then. They had manifested much earlier when Paige died, like the shock of losing another sister advanced them. Chris didn’t interact much with her, brief visits to look in on Piper and Wyatt. But he didn’t remember ever being close to her. She was always emotionally distant with him and sometimes with Wyatt. He didn’t know if she was trying to protect herself from the pain of losing more family, or if just living away from the Manor and her remaining sister had changed her. And then she had completely disappeared from his life. He actually wasn’t sure how she had died. His mother was just incredibly sad one day, she wouldn’t talk to anyone and he was too young to understand. He only remembered his father was there holding her as they went to a big church with lots of people he didn’t know. His father glaring at him as he tried to ask what was going on but Wyatt had pulled him into his lap to shush him…

Chris had to close his eyes. They were getting hot again. He rubbed at them to keep the tears at bay and tried to remember what he was trying to do. He was trying to focus on the changes HE had made to this room, having lived in it from the age of 3 or 4. There was a double bed but it wasn’t in the middle of the room, he preferred it shoved to the corner just under the window next to the door. It opened the room up to give him some more floor space. He had his TV directly opposite his bed, mounted on the wall next to the window nook. He used that for his desk, but where there had been light and flimsy curtains, he had blackout curtains that were currently closed. Probably his brother or father’s doing to keep the light low for his headache.

He crossed the room to his dresser, putting his hands on the dark wood to steady himself. This really was his room, not some distant fantasy or resurging memory. This is what he had chosen for himself… Sometimes questionable choices, like the marks in the walls where he thought he could hang his own pictures and discovering, you needed to know where the studs were, otherwise they’d just fall eventually. Especially when the walls of the house were rocked and smashed into as much as theirs.

He stared at the framed photos on the dresser, his parents, his siblings, his cousins. There were even a few of friends. He never really had those back then. He was a general of the resistance while undercover to appear like he supported his brother to stay alive. He didn’t have the ability to trust anyone enough to be friends. Bianca was the exception…

“Chris! Are you coming down or do I have to drag you?”

Melinda’s voice rocked him out of his thoughts. Right, see what awaited him downstairs. He focused on getting dressed. Dropping the towel and changing into jeans and a plain gray t-shirt, he pulled a comb through his hair, just so it wouldn’t get in his way and ignored the mirror entirely to head downstairs.

He took his time going down the steps, more so to keep himself grounded. He tried to avoid looking at the photos. His mind kept spiraling. He had to keep repeating what he was doing otherwise he knew he’d get lost again.

As he reached the ground floor and turned into the dinning room, he could smell breakfast and from the chatter he could hear, he knew it wasn’t just his mom in the kitchen. Chris suddenly wished he had stayed in his room. He could hear both his aunts, his parents and Melinda’s voice coming from the kitchen. Did he really want to come face to face with them at this moment? He was still processing a lot and he wasn’t sure he wanted more to deal with.

The decision was made for him when Melinda came walking through the doorway and saw him hovering by the table, out of sight of anyone in the kitchen. She paused when she saw him and glanced back at the doorway before coming over and grabbing his wrist and pulling him into the entryway of the dining room. Right under the chandelier. He knew from this spot, they wouldn’t be seen and it was harder to hear them from the kitchen.

Melinda had a determined look on her face as she let go of his arm and crossed her own arms. “What took you so long? Dad went to get you like an hour ago.” Chris wanted to roll his eyes. “I was in the shower.” He replied, gesturing to his wet hair.

Melinda DID roll her eyes. “Probably stole all the hot water too.” She muttered. “I’ve bought as much time for you as I could, but Auntie Pheeb has been practically vibrating since she got here and I don’t know if she’ll be able to contain it any longer.” She said in a slightly hushed tone. Melinda, always looking out for her big brothers.

Chris sighed, “I don’t know if I can take all of that right now Melly.” He argued as he leaned against the archway. “I barely slept and I feel…” He paused as he tried to figure out how to articulate how he was feeling.

How did you describe images in your head that just transported you to a time that no longer existed?

He was suddenly irrationally angry. Why did it matter how he felt? He shouldn’t be the focus here, there were so many other things that were more important that how he was feeling.

Wasn’t there?

He blinked as Melinda was waving her hand in front of his face. “Chris, earth to Chris.” She said, pulling her hand away when he batted at it. “Where did you go? You just trailed off and stared at the floor before looking pissed.” She put her hands on her hips, looking a lot like their aunt Paige right then. “Want to tell me what all that was about?”

Chris stood up straight and reached up, rubbing at his face. “I just… Mel, this is a lot. Can you just leave it for right now?”

Melinda looked annoyed but Chris could see she was more worried than angry in the way she held her shoulders and she changed to crossing her arms again, holding onto her elbows. Tight, like she was trying to keep herself from flying apart. It was how she always stood when she was scared or upset.

“Chris, please talk to me. You have no idea how scary yesterday was. I’ve seen you hurt before but never like that. It looked like you were dying and there was no way to stop it.” She swallowed hard and Chris felt his eyes tearing up again. “Do you know what that’s like? I felt so… Helpless.”

Chris nodded, taking a deep breath, “I’m sorry Mel.” He reached forward and rested his hands on her shoulders. “Look, just… Give me some time okay? I’m just… I need to figure out how to make all of this make sense in my head.” He gestured to his temple and while Melinda stared at him, still looking worried and angry, she eventually nodded. “Okay…” She let out a breath and dropped her arms from their crossed position. “But I can’t save you from this morning. You’re going in there.” She said. “Otherwise Auntie Pheeb will hunt you down.”

Chris snorted and nodded his head. “Okay.” He said softly, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and giving her a tight hug. She made a fake groaning sound of annoyance but her arms wrapped around his middle and squeezed back hard. “Love you bug.” He whispered against her hair.

“Love you too creep.” She whispered back against his chest. Then she was pushing him away. “Now let’s get you in there.”

“Are you coming with me?” He asked as he let himself be pushed back. Melinda seemed to think about it for a moment. “Do you want me to?” She finally asked.

Chris looked back towards the kitchen and then at Melinda. “I… I don’t know. Maybe the less people the better?” He didn’t know if he could take so many people at once asking him questions. This one-on-one thing seemed okay but five-on-one?

Melinda looked a little disappointed but she nodded. “Okay. But you know I'm here if you need me. Seems I'm the only sane one around here anyways.” She gave him a wink and Chris smirked back at her. “If that’s true we’re in so much trouble.” He answered and she flipped him off. “Go on. I’ll be a call away.” She said before orbing herself out.

Chris had to take a deep breath and steady himself before he advanced towards the kitchen.

“Chris! You’re awake!” And there was the aforementioned aunt. He turned the corner and Phoebe was standing in the doorway of the kitchen. She looked perked up on probably too much caffeine and sugar and smiling her patented ‘I'm-so-nervous-but-I-have-to-smile’ smile at him.
He knew that smile. Even from the past. She couldn’t keep a secret for very long and when she had questions and a goal in mind, she had been relentless about seeking out answers. To the point of looking or sounding crazy. Chris didn’t know what she had been like before he had traveled back but he assumed it only got worse as she had gotten older.

Chris took a deep breath and headed towards her. Her smile was so big he could see her wisdom teeth and he was tense when she offered him a hug but accepted the gesture. She was affectionate, always had been. Even though the other timeline had her showing up less and less, she still always hugged the boys, Wyatt more than him but he had always gotten a pinch to his cheek or a quick squeeze when he saw her.

Phoebe stepped back from the hug and pulled him further into the kitchen. He looked around the room. His mom was at the stove with eggs in the pan and French toast finishing in another. His dad was by the basement door, his arms crossed as he leaned against the door jam. Aunt Paige was sitting at the table and giving him the same smile as Phoebe’s, though hers was less ‘nervous’ and more ‘I-have-to-be-cool-or-this-will-all-go-to-hell’ smile.

“Uh… Hi.” He said slowly. Phoebe went to the table and offered him the chair but Chris shook his head. “No I uh… I’d rather stand.” Sitting right now felt too much like an interrogation. Phoebe just smiled wide again and took the chair herself while Chris looked to his mom. She stirred the eggs and turned off the stove for the toast. Focusing on him and giving him a gentle smile.

He finally cracked. The smiling, with the except of his dad, was creeping him out. He had vivid flashbacks of the sister’s asking him for favors or for time off or when they were trying to pry and he had to keep lying to them. It made his anxiety rise.

“Can you all…” He looked between them all, “Just stop smiling for a minute?” He didn’t mean his voice to come out as sharp as it did but it was a lot. “ It’s freaking me out.” He tried to explain. It took a moment and they all looked at each other before the sisters dropped their smiles and Chris could see the real worry on their faces. This is more like them, Chris could take the real them, the worried looks and glances, but the fake smiles and forced happiness was really making him feel like a mental patient.

His mom moved the food off the stove and walked over to him. Her arms were open for a hug and Chris let out a breath before bending to hug her tight. He could smell her shampoo and the perfume she was always wearing and he had simultaneous memories of hugging her over and over and over again through both times before she died and up until now. He couldn’t stop it this time and his eyes misted over again. He sniffed and let go of her to wipe at his eyes. “Sorry.” He muttered. His mom gave him a sad but caring look and shook her head. “Don’t be sorry. We’re all here for you to help you, however you need, baby.” She reached out and took one of his hands, squeezing it tight.

Chris squeezed her hand back and nearly jumped as he felt another hand on his shoulder. His dad stood there next to him, offering his support. “It’s okay son. We’ll figure this out.”

Chris gave him a sad smile and a nod before turning to his aunts. Phoebe’s face held that soft look that he knew meant she cared while Paige looked nearly the same, her eyes a little red as well. Chris wondered if she had been crying earlier. He knew she was there the moment he died. Had comforted him until his dad got there in his last moments.

There was a beat of silence before Phoebe leaned forward, “How are you doing?” In her worried tone of voice. How did Chris even answer that question? Chris took a deep breath. “Not…great?” He offered. Unsure what else to say. How did he really feel? He felt himself getting angry again. How could someone ask that after all this happened? It had only been a day, did they want him to get over it so quickly? Why did he have to explain to them anyways? They only needed to know the bare minimum, otherwise everything could get so screwed up.

“I don’t think I've had anything to eat since breakfast yesterday and I only had 3 hours of sleep.” He finally said, his tone slightly sharp and sarcastic. He reached up and rubbed at his eyes, trying to wipe away more of the tears. His mother squeezed his hand again and he an irrational urge to pull his hand away. He didn’t even know why, “And I have dozens of memories that aren’t mine slamming behind my eyes every 5 minutes.” This time his tone was much more sharp. He gave a shrug and rolled his eyes. “So yea… Not great.”

They were all staring at him and it was making him feel even more anxious. Like he just did something he wasn’t supposed to. They had asked and he had answered and he felt himself getting more annoyed. He rolled his eyes as the sisters shared a look between them. Paige was the one who broke the silence. “Yep,” She said with a sigh, “There’s the Chris we knew.” She rested her chin in her hand and stared at him with a small knowing smile. Chris didn’t think it was very funny.

“What the hell does that mean?” Chris frowned. Piper glared at Paige briefly before looking at him again. “Nothing honey, it’s just…” She paused and tried to think of what to say. He knew that face anywhere.

“Just what?”

“Just…?” She tried to form words before staring at her sisters, “Little help?”

“In the past, the other you had this habit of… Not necessarily blowing up, but talking in this frustrating… Sarcastic tone when you had been angry or trying to deflect.” Paige supplied. “Or when we asked you how you were or anything personal. And well kiddo, you did it just then.”

Phoebe gave a fake laugh, clearly trying to calm down the tension in the kitchen, “Really it’s nothing bad, but just… Familiar in a way we would know.”

His mom bit the inside of her cheek, her nervous habit and squeezed his hand again. “You were sort of a… complicated person when it came to your feelings and life.”

Hearing that, feeling already irrationally annoyed and angry… Chris lashed out.

“Well yea I was “complicated”,” He used air quotes. “Because I was trying to save the world from a monster who happened to be my big brother and your precious baby boy.” He snapped, pulling his hand from hers and moving his shoulder out from under Leo’s hand. The tension in his body felt so foreign to him. Like he was preparing to fight or run and he could feel tears building again. “And now that’s all I'm seeing, like some demented movie in my head!”

“Chris calm down, we didn’t mean it badly…” Phoebe tried to speak up but Chris shook his head. “No! I’m not going to calm down. I have this other me living inside of my head and it feels like I'm not ME anymore. Like I'm turning into HIM!” He nearly shouted. He paused, the room silent for seconds as he realized what he had said. That was his biggest fear right now. That he would lose everything that had been him in this reality and become this Other Chris. That he wasn’t him anymore and that he wouldn’t figure out these memories before they tore him apart.

“I don’t know how to separate me from him. I feel like I'm going crazy.” His voice was soft and angry. He was crying again and it was only fueling his anger. He was 23, why was he crying so much? Why didn’t he just grow up? Crying didn’t solve anything.

“Chris, hey buddy, it’s okay. We’re going to figure this out.” His dad wrapped an arm around his shoulders and Chris was immediately torn before waiting to lean into his father’s embrace and wanting to step away, leery of being touched when he felt so volatile. He stood at war with himself, staring at his dad as if he didn’t understand what to do.

“Chris honey, you need to take a deep breath.” Phoebe’s tone was much softer and she stood up from her chair. Stepping to the side of it and pulling it further out from the table. “Come sit down, you’re shaking.”

His dad’s arm tightened some and he followed as he was led to the chair and sat down almost automatically. He hadn’t realized his whole body was shaking but it was and he put his head in his hands, trying to focus on the floor, his shoes, his family’s shoes, the table and chair legs, anything to focus and ground him.

“I am going crazy.” He muttered, tears falling from his eyes as he clutched at his still damp hair.

He didn’t have to be looking at them to know they were all looking at each other over his head. He knew them that well from memories that weren’t his but were his… None of it made sense.

Two different hands touched his back, a smaller one on the back of his neck, gently pressing right at the base of his skull, while a larger hand rubbed circles on his back. His mom and dad for sure.

“You’re not going crazy.” His aunt Phoebe said as she kneeled in front of him. “Sweetie, look at me.” Chris lifted his head and saw her face very close. “You’re not going crazy.” She repeated. “This is a lot for you. This would be a lot for anyone. We’re going to figure this out, not today, but we will figure this out.” She nodded, “We’re here for you and no matter what, we will love you and protect you. I promise.” She paused to make sure he was looking her in the eyes. “We will not let you forget who you are.”

Chris blinked and slowly nodded. He trusted his aunt’s words. Of everyone in the family, she had the most experience with past lives and possession and memories taking over her body. She was probably the most professional opinion they had on how to deal with all of this.

He looked to Paige who had also moved to stand. “We’re here kiddo, for anything you need.” She reaffirmed. “These memories were given to you for a reason. Magic may be mysterious but it always has a purpose and always works.”

Chapter Text

(*) Noon

It was silent after Paige spoke.

The kind of silence that was filled with too many words and questions and looks and it only made his anxiety stay high.

His tears were still falling, his head still in his hands as he stared at the tile floor between his shoes. How did he remember to put on shoes this morning? He could remember getting his clothes on and he knew from past experience, this was a house you needed shoes in. Shattered glass or wood splinters, hell even demon spikes or stray blades were a real possibility. He must have put them on automatically without thinking. He was sort of surprised they were on the right feet and even tied correctly.

He took deep breaths. Trying not to make noise to disturb the silence, even though it was beginning to grate on him. He didn’t want to chance looking up at them and seeing their stares like he was crazy. Even after his aunts both assuring him he wasn’t. He still felt it.

He took another deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to will his tears to stop. He wasn’t sobbing, they were just free falling, he just had to keep blinking them away.

They were giving him time to breathe, he knew that. It was different than their old plan of attack when something new confused them or they needed to figure things out. Chris had always been a “work-it-out” kind of individual. He was told he inherited that from his Aunt Prue. He had never met her, never seen her ghost called, though sometimes he knew his mother tried to see her. She had been stubborn and hard-headed. Chris had been told he was the same sometimes. He could pursue something to the ends of the earth to figure it out. He was determined and smart and this usually helped when teamed with Wyatt’s somewhat strength, though sometimes brash and emotional nature. Chris was the brains, Wyatt was the power and with Melinda at their side, the next generation of Charmed Ones were a force not many demons wanted to mess with.

This Chris knew all of that, but the other version of him, the one who had known the sisters 20 years ago, remembered how they used to push, to pry into affairs to find the right direction, to find the solution to their magical problems. Either they would push or run away, depending on the situation. If it was interfering with their personal lives, they ran, but if it threatened them or their families or innocents? They pushed until whatever was blocking their path eventually crumbled.

So the current quiet in the kitchen, as the sisters surrounded him, with Leo at his back, wasn’t settling him like they might have thought it would. He was used to questions where he would have to deflect or lie. The old him was used to redirection and subtle manipulation to get their questions off of him and onto something more productive. But he couldn’t deflect this. There wasn’t something more sinister going on, no other agenda to push. This was all focused on him and he hated the feel of it. This tense, heavy feeling of waiting.

He finally let out a sigh and shook his head, lifting it from its position in his hands. He had to blink, they were all staring at him. It was making him itch, like he was a bug under a lamp. He straightened up a little, conscious of the hands still on his back. His mom and dad’s hands.

Meeting their eyes was hard. He had never had an issue looking people in the eye (unless he was in trouble) but seeing them all staring at him, he could barely look at their faces and it took effort now to look at them. They were all so close, the kitchen was small to begin with. Always had been, and with 3 of them standing and Chris sitting in the corner at the table with Phoebe kneeling in front of him. It felt so much smaller.

“Can we… move?” He asked quietly, his cheeks felt sticky with the tears that he had been shedding and he wiped at them. His hands weren’t shaking anymore but he didn’t feel all together either. He felt as though he could shake apart any minute.

“Move?” Phoebe asked, a little confused before he could visibly see it “click” on her face. Even the empath, even though she had learned to block her abilities years ago, he wondered if she had been trying to sense him this whole time. If she felt all of his anxiety and fear and confusion and just general wrongness. “Oh! Oh yea, it’s a little cramped in here.” She clapped her hands and the sound had him flinching minimally as she stood from her kneeled position in front of him.

She rubbed her hands together like she was thinking and looked back and forth between the back door and the doorway to the dining room. “How about the solarium?” She asked, “It’s brighter out there and more open.” Chris looked to the doorway, it was brighter, more room to pace, which he was beginning to feel the need to do. And with no doors to close in on him.

“Sure.” He said tiredly. He didn’t move to stand just yet, Phoebe was already in his space just where she was and if he stood, he’d be chest to chest with her and Paige. He didn’t like the cornered feeling, even though he stood taller than both of them.

There was silence again before Paige seemed to get it, grabbing Phoebe’s arm and tugging her out of the kitchen with a quick, “Come on.” And an eye roll. It had him grin for half a second before he sighed again and moved to stand in their absence. He turned to look at his mom and dad. Both worn concerned looks for him. How did he explain this to them? The need to pace and move and have space to do it in. The feeling of walls collapsing in on him and him sinking into madness?

“Go ahead, we’ll be right behind you.” His dad said as he gave him a small smile. Chris didn’t smile back, glancing at his mom. Her eyes were red like she was close to crying herself before she nodded.

Chris turned and followed his aunts out of the room. He could hear them talking in the sunroom. And movement. When he reached the pocket doors, he could see them moving the chairs and loveseat around, setting them near the living room so that there wasn’t an obstacle in the way if he needed to pace. He watched them argue about the dresser and if they should move that to and more importantly how to move it.

“I don’t think he needs this much room.” Paige was saying as she gestured to it. She didn’t look annoyed, maybe more exasperated with her older sister. “Paige, he needs room, you didn’t feel it but he’s really…. constricted right now.”

So Phoebe had been using her powers on him. All at once, he felt relief at her knowing how he felt and annoyance that she had used her powers on him. It ran down his spine in a shock of cold and his shoulders got even more tense at the implication. Her head turned sharply in his direction and she tried to smile through being caught. “Hey, does this look good?” She asked.

Chris grit his teeth and took a deep breath through his nose. He had to talk himself down, he wasn’t angry with his aunt. She was trying to help. She was always trying to help. Even if it wasn’t her business.

He closed his eyes and felt like sagging against the doorway, these conflicting thoughts weren’t helping. “Yea.” He finally breathed out as he walked further into the room, going near the windows, having them at his back so he could watch the doorways to the room. “It looks fine.” His voice was tired to his own ears, “The dresser is fine where it is.” He mumbled.

His mom and dad were coming out of the kitchen now. His mom had definitely been crying, her eyes more red than before and he felt guilty for that. His eyes immediately darted to Leo. His memories expected an angry glance or glare, but all he was seeing in those blue eyes were concern.

When his aunts sat down and his mom and dad stood in the doorway, he realized as the only one standing, it was like he was facing a firing squad. With the windows at his back and eyes on him, this was so much worse than the kitchen, like there was a target on his chest. He clenched his hands and his shoulders tensed up to his ears, almost as if there was a physical blow coming.

“Peanut.” His mom’s voice got his attention, she was holding his dad’s hand but she was watching him. “Just talk to us.” She said quietly.

Chris took a deep breath. “Right.” He said mostly to himself, “Talk.”

“Just need a minute.” He muttered and he really did begin to pace, taking short strides back and forth, maybe he got it from Wyatt, this need to move when he was overwhelmed. Maybe it was a survival instinct saved over from centuries of his witch ancestors needing to move to stay safe. Maybe it was from his old memories where if you stayed still and froze in battle, you died.

Chris had no idea but he kept moving, opening his mouth and closing it again. How did he even start? Phoebe’s voice had him casting his eyes at her.

“Just take your time sweetie, don’t force it out. We don’t want you to be overwhelmed.” Phoebe was holding out a hand in what he guessed was supposed to be a calming gesture, but also a notice for him to go ahead.

“And this isn’t overwhelming?” Paige muttered under her breath and Phoebe smacked her bicep from her spot on the loveseat. “What? It’s got to be! He just got a lifetime of memories and we only know about some of it, he wasn’t exactly an open book back then.” Paige shrugged and looked back at Chris with an apologetic expression, “Sorry kiddo but there was a lot you never told us and I can guess it was bad.”

“What Paige means is… Well honey we didn’t know what you went through the first time and we can’t imagine going through it a second time so suddenly and with all of this having changed…” Phoebe trailed off as she searched for words and gave him a sigh, “I can imagine it’s hard.”

Chris had an urge to tell them to back off and leave it at that but resisted. They wanted to help. He needed their help. If anyone in the world knew how to work this out, it would be his aunts and his mom. Nearly each of them had an experience with a past life or memory or even possession… Phoebe more than the other two and Paige actually met her past life. This was just hard, it felt harder than his conversation with Wyatt the night before. He stopped moving for a second and rolled his shoulders, trying to relax himself but it wasn’t really helping.
“It is hard.” He conceded, “It’s not just… memories.” He began. “There are a lot of memories that are different. Like growing up… As Him. And growing up here.” He said as he began to move again, slower than before. “Remembering mom and dad and Wyatt. But no Melinda. No Aunt Paige.” He looked at his aunts. “Phoebe was a blip in my… His childhood.” He took a breath. “And here, I remember growing up throwing snowballs at my sister, making potions with Paige and getting really embarrassing advice from Phoebe.” He was starting to pick up speed with talking. “And it’s more than strange remembering you three when you were younger.” He looked between all three sisters, all looking at him expectantly and flashed to dozens of memories of them in this room, listening to him… Or tuning him out as he tried to talk to them, to focus them to saving Wyatt.

“And there’s these really…. “ He trailed off for a moment. How did he explain the emotions he was feeling? The reactions to them? Their faces, their voices? “It’s like… opposite… No that’s not the word.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking for the correct word. “Conflicting?” He mumbled.

“Honey, what are they?” Paige asked, leaning forward. Phoebe was watching him carefully and he gestured with his hands. It was hard to think, feeling himself getting more caught up with emotion than rational thought.

“Emotions.” Phoebe said for him. She was frowning and he wondered how much he was projecting onto her. “Conflicting emotions.” She said simply. Chris paused to look at her and he saw Paige and his mom and dad were watching her too. “If you guys could feel this. It’s like a light show. He’s switching emotions faster than I’ve ever seen him do.” Chris’ face burned, first with embarrassment and then with anger at her using her power on him. She winced and he couldn’t control the flinch. “Sorry.” He muttered. His Aunt waved it away. “Comes with the territory. But sweetie, you are allowed to feel out of control right now. This is more than any of us have had to handle in a while, if ever. You are allowed to feel. If you keep blocking yourself, you’re just going to get more confused and angry and frustrated.”

Chris had to wonder when she became so wise. Memories flashed before his eyes of Phoebe being ANYTHING but wise when he had known her 20 years ago. He could remember a bespelled Phoebe coming onto him, more than once even though the second time wasn’t really his aunt but that blonde who stole their identity. He could remember her omplaining about her love life and work and her column. He remembered her so clearly being air-headed but so strong. The rush of memories has him shutting his eyes and having to take a second to get his balance.

“Chris?” Leo’s voice was closer than before and Chris felt himself wavering slightly before arms caught his shoulders and he heard Paige use her power and he was helped into a chair behind him. “Chris open your eyes buddy.”

Opening his eyes was hard but he managed, the room spun a little. His dad was right in front of him and he stared into those familiar blue eyes. “Ow.” He said quietly. His hands were shaking again. His mom was calling his name in panic but he shook his head, “I’m okay…” He muttered. “It’s… A lot.” He heard them all talking and he couldn’t pick it out as his head continued to spin. All of it was more than a little… much for his brain. “Some of the stuff I don’t want to remember.” He said quietly, “And it comes up at the most random times.”

“Oh sweetie.” Phoebe’s voice. He finally tore his gaze away from his dad’s steady and concerned eyes to look at her. This wasn’t the her of the past, She had a little gray in her hair now. She had lines in her face. She wasn’t as rail thin as she had been, she had a mom’s figure now after her girls.

“I’m okay.” He told her though he felt anything but. He felt like the room wouldn’t stop spinning, like he would shake apart from the stress, like this other Chris was trying to tear himself out of his body and stand before him to take over his life.

“No you’re not.” That was his mom. He looked at her and she looked determined. Her face set to fix whatever was hurting her son.

Chapter Text

“Whatever the reason you have these memories now, clearly they’re hurting you.” Piper said, her arms crossing. She looked angry, his mind flashed to thousands of times he saw the same angry, determined face in both timelines. It was disorienting and he shuddered as one memory stuck out from the river behind his eyes. His mother, the sisters and Leo all standing before him, they were all covered in some form of goo from a demon, or was it food that had blown up? Or a potion… Either way he remembered the hardness in her face. Her eyes glaring holes into him as she told him she didn’t want to see him again.

He shuddered and Leo gripped his forearm as Chris looked at the ground, trying to get his bearings, he wasn’t there. That wasn’t him again. “Mom.” He looked back at her and her gaze softened, walking forward towards him. “This is hurting you baby, I can’t stand back and watch something hurting my children.” He had always admired that about his mother. Nothing came between her and her family, especially her children. It was a terrifying sight to behold, seeing the raw power Piper had when something threatened those she loved.

“Piper, this happened for a reason, something has to be happening. Either now or soon. We can’t just get rid of this.” Paige stated. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Chris knew that she was probably right. This was happening for a reason, but none of them knew WHY. And he wished it would all just go away.

“Maybe we can find a spell or something, a way to get rid of these memories, bind them, send them back…” Piper was shaking her head, “Something to keep them from hurting my son.”

“Yes because messing with memories has ALWAYS worked in the past with us.” Paige countered as she got closer to Piper, Phoebe stepping up beside her. “Literally every time we’ve tried to do anything with memories, something has gone wrong.” She pointed out, holding up her fingers beginning to list off instances, “My memory of my parents death, Phoebe’s memories of high school, the cleaners, past lives, innocents having their memories constantly erased, Darrell, Agent Sheridan, how many more examples do you need that it’s a BAD idea?!” She ended her rant by shouting and Chris flinched at the sound. They weren’t even paying attention to him anymore, they were talking over him.

His father squeezed his arm after he flinched. “Ladies, please, let’s tone it down. Arguing isn’t going to get us anywhere. What we need to focus on is Chris.” His father’s tone was gentle but firm as he gestured to Chris. They all turned to look at him again and he kind of wished they hadn’t. “Wyatt and I already talked about it last night.” He said as he sat back in the chair, slumping a little. “He said, the best way to fix this… thing. Is to talk about it.” Chris knew his tone wasn’t exactly believing in that solution at this moment.

“I thought you were scared of him?” Phoebe asked, she had only seen his reactions to Wyatt the day before when he was still reeling from the immediate episode and Wyatt was still the bogeyman to his now fractured mind.

And that’s what his mind really was now, wasn’t it? Fractured, cracked in little pieces. Some that fit together and some that didn’t. All as fragile as glass and trying to put them together resulting in blood and pain. And it was only getting worse. These memories kept seeming to come faster and more intense each time. His thoughts kept spiraling and he had to grasp for something to ground himself to this version of him. To this reality.

Something to ground himself…

He focused on that. Maybe he could get a handle if he had something to remind himself who he was, where he was, when he was… He had done that in the past. Not to ground himself but to remind himself of his mission, hadn’t he? It was something small he kept on himself at all times. What had it been?

“Chris?” He lifted his head from where his eyes had been staring at the floor in thought. “You zoned out there,” Phoebe said, “Are you okay?” Chris nodded his head, though of course he wasn’t. But how could he tell her that right then. He had to remember what he had carried with him to remind himself of his mission.

He leaned forward now to rest his elbows on his knees, his hands coming to his mouth to think. His eyes staring forward. He tried to force himself to remember. He could almost feel the object in his hands, but what was it? He couldn’t get himself to focus and sift through the memories to find what he was looking for.

“Chris? Chris, hey talk to us.” Leo was waving his hand in front of him to get his attention. Chris frowned deeply. “I can’t remember it.” He muttered to himself, he closed his eyes to focus, trying to tune things out.

“What can’t you remember buddy?”

He ignored his dad’s voice. Whatever it had been, it would have been small. Something he could carry. It wasn’t heavy, it wasn’t a necklace… He had never liked wearing them. What had it been?! His head was starting to pound as he forced himself to work through it. He had yet to do this. To seek out a specific memory amongst this clogged river of images that ran through his broken brain. He frowned deeper, lifting his hand to rub at his forehead, his eyes still closed. “What was it?” He whispered to himself. He knew he had it before, it had been so important to him, it was associated with something important to him. Something he left behind…

“Chris!” hands grabbed his wrists and he was shocked into opening his eyes. His dad was there in front of him, looking panicked. “Chris, what’s happening?”

“I was almost there, why did you grab me?” He ripped his arms from his dad’s grip and stood up, his father standing as well and standing chest to chest with him.

“Honey,” Paige sounded scared, “Your nose is bleeding.”

Chris reached up and touched just under his nose, it was wet and hot and came away red. He stared at the blood on his fingers. His head was still pounding, at his temples and behind his eyes. It made him feel dizzy and slightly sick. He remembered he hadn’t eaten yet today… Not since yesterday actually.

He used his sleeve to wipe the blood away. “I almost had it. I was almost there.” He muttered to himself as he kept trying to wipe at his nose. It still felt hot and now felt itchy on his top lip. The dizzy feeling wasn’t going away either. He wavered a bit as he tried to take a step away from everyone, they were standing too close and he felt claustrophobic again. Now that he had been trying, his memories were rising up again. Like a wave of images instead of a river, it was going to drag him under.

His family was watching him with concern, his dad approaching him slowly and Chris felt the need to run. Not because he was scared of his dad but to protect him from this wave that was about to crash over him. Chris lifted his hand to his nose again, it was still bleeding and the pounding was getting worse, his vision starting to blur.

“Dad?” He didn’t know if his voice actually made a sound before he felt that wave hit and everything went sideways and black.

Chapter Text

He was holding someone’s hands in his. Sitting in a ruined garden. Everything was grayed out, blurry around the edges. He couldn’t see details around him. But he could see the hands. They were feminine and he held them tightly. Like he was afraid if he let them go, he’d never find her again.

There was something on the finger of her left hand. It was a ring with a single diamond. Small and a little sad looking. Like there was no money to buy anything more grand. Chris tried to lift his face to look at the woman but he couldn’t find the strength to. He kept looking at her hands. Her nails were long and painted, a little like his aunts when they got their nails done. They almost looked perfect, but he could see scars on her hands too. They were darker in color than his. He couldn’t focus on the feel of them, but he knew they were warm and they had been trembling in his.

His eyes stared at the ring. Memorizing it. Somehow he knew it was his. She was his…. But he didn’t know who she was.

“Chris?” His head went up to look at her face. It was blurry like everything else. She was wearing something red though and she had dark hair framing a blurry face. She had called his name.

“Chris?”

He tried to reply but he couldn’t open his mouth. He couldn’t move. Her face was coming closer, the details slowly coming back in, focusing as she moved. He wanted to lean forward too. See her more clearly.

“Chris?” The world washed out as he glimpsed brown eyes, like that scene in Mary Poppins when the rain washed away the chalk world.

This was the second time he woke up to a healing, glowing hand over his head. The hand moved away and he saw Paige standing in front of him. “Chris?” His mom was the one calling him. She was being held by his father. Tear tracks were on her face and she was holding onto his father tightly. His dad had his arms around her shoulders but he could see his fingers slightly twitch as Paige pulled her hand completely away, the glow of healing finally stopping. He had a minute thought, wondering if Leo wished he was still a whitelighter with powers, able to heal all on his own.

Chris sat up, finding himself on the couch in the living room, hours after he had laid there talking with Wyatt the night before. He rubbed at his head, the pain fading slightly from before. From the looks of his aunts and the tears on his mother’s face, he could piece together what happened. He opened his mouth to apologize when a glass of water was shoved in his face. “Drink this.” Phoebe said without any room for an argument.

Chris hesitantly took the glass and with her stern look, he took a sip. He suddenly realized how thirsty he had been and downed the glass within seconds. He took a deep breath and Phoebe let out a sigh of relief as she took the glass from him and sat beside him on the couch. “You scared the hell out of us.” She said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He wasn’t exactly comfortable with the closeness though 2 days ago, he would have been more embarrassed than awkward as he now felt.

“Did I pass out again?” He asked quietly. Phoebe gave him a sad look. “Yea. Your nose was bleeding and you fell and hit your head.” She brushed some of his bangs away. It explained why his head still hurt. “Paige was able to heal the cut on your forehead. We don’t know why you had a nosebleed though.” Her hands felt nice running through his hair briefly and he leaned into the affectionate gesture. Something he would have normally done with Melinda or Wyatt.
“You were saying something before you went down.” His dad said, still keeping his arms around his mom. He wondered if he was holding her back from smothering him with attention, or if it was for him, to be able to protect someone close to him when he was having trouble protecting his youngest son. “Something about almost having it.”

Chris nodded, “Yea… I was trying to remember something.” He gestured with his hands. “I thought, if I could have something… physical to ground myself to here… Who I am here and not that other reality. It might make things easier to separate.” He formed an area between his hands like a ball. “I had something like that… I know I did, in the past with you guys. I can’t remember what it was though. I know it was small and it was so important.” He sighed and dropped his hands into his lap. “I can’t remember what it was though, and trying to wade through… all of this hurt.” He gestured around his head.

He noticed that Phoebe went stiff beside him and Paige put her hands on her hips, looking to Piper and then to Phoebe. They knew something, he could instantly tell.

“You know what it is?” He asked, looking at all of them. “Tell me, maybe we can use it again.” He demanded.

Piper finally moved out of her husband’s arms and closer to him. “You can’t sweetie. It was something you brought with you from that other future. It probably doesn’t exist here.” She explained. “It… was something you brought to remind you of someone. You’ve never met her here though. I don’t think it’ll help to go looking for it.” His mother looked so sad for him, though her words clicked something in his brain.

“Her?”

Phoebe looked at him with pity in her eyes. He wondered if she was seeing her nephew or Chris Perry. “It was someone you loved, who died.” She explained.

Chris looked between the sisters. “Who? What was her name?” Nothing was coming up at the moment other than flashes of a gray world, crumbling in destruction. Who did he love then?

The three looked at each other and Paige opened her mouth to answer before Leo stepped forward, “Maybe we should wait. This has been a lot. If we keep revealing things so fast and don’t let you settle, your mind might not be able to keep up.”

Chris frowned. “Might not be able to keep up?” He mocked with a short laugh and then stared his father down as he stood up quickly. “Are you kidding me? My mind already feels like mush between my ears and you’re saying we shouldn’t tell me anything?” He shook his head in disbelief. “You know, I do remember a couple of things.” He glared at his dad, “I may have kept secrets from you but you kept them from me too. Not just then, in this reality too.” He scoffed, “You might think it’s a good idea to keep things from me, but you’re forgetting it’s already in my head! It’ll come up eventually. But yea, sure, why not wait for me to pass out again before you tell me anything.” He shook his head at them and decided he had enough of being around them without getting anywhere. He searched for Wyatt, spreading out his feelings just like his father taught him and staring his father down, he orbed away.

(*)

He stumbled as he landed in the great room of Magic School. Part library, part study area, part classroom, part meeting space. Chris often considered it the heart of the pocket dimension and sitting on a stool at one of the tables was his big brother, hunched over a book.

Chris had to take a second to find his balance before he walked over, leaning on the table besides his brother’s arm. “Hey.”

Wyatt whipped his head up and Chris had a second to remind himself it was his brother, not that Wyatt when the annoyed look gave way to concern. “Chris? Holy shit man you look terrible.” He said as he sat up straight.

“Oh thank you, That makes my mood so much better, please keep heaping on the praises.” Chris said as he moved to sit on the table itself, his feet leaving the floor.

Wyatt shook his head, his face deeply concerned. “I’m serious, you’re super pale.” He raised his hand to Chris’ throbbing forehead and Chris batted it away. “You look like you’re going to be sick man… And your hands are shaking.”

Chris gave him a grim smile. “I may not have eaten yet today.” He mumbled, he sighed and looked at his big brother like he had all the answers to everything that could fix him. “I feel like I'm going to fall apart any second.”

“Shit.” Wyatt stood up and touched Chris’ shoulder. “Come on, let's get you something to eat before you pass out.” He said, pulling his little brother off the table and back to standing. Chris swayed a little, muttering a quiet, “Too late.”

“What?” Wyatt’s hands steadied both his shoulders. It was a good weight, keeping him steady and grounded as he looked at those familiar blue eyes, the same blue as his fathers.

“I passed out while talking to the sisters and Leo.” He said, frowning as he realized what he had said. “Mom, dad and aunt Phoebe and Paige.” He corrected himself. He was still mad enough, the disconnect was enough for his tired mind to latch onto.

Wyatt was frowning at him. “You passed out?” He questioned as he began looking Chris over as if looking for injuries. “Paige took care of it.” Chris waved it away. “Can we not focus on that right now?”

“Yea that’s not happening, but I'm getting you food before you waste away.” He looked around, magic school did have a cafeteria but that required extensive knowledge of the halls and precision to get there. Wyatt looked back at Chris and gave him a shrug before he orbed them away.

They reappeared in an alleyway off of a street in San Francisco. Across from them was a pizza shop they both knew well. It wasn’t a chain and it was owned by an italian lady their mom knew through suppliers. Chris was still wobbly and Wyatt’s hands on his shoulders were easy to lean into to keep himself steady.

“Melly!” Wyatt whisper-shouted into the alleyway. It took a second but another set of orbs appeared beside them. Melinda looked concerned as she looked at her two big brothers. “What the hell Chris, you look terrible.”

“Seriously you’ll both give me a complex.” Chris tried to joke as he watched Melinda come up to him and wrap an arm around his bicep. “What are we doing here Wyatt?” She asked the blond. Her grip on his arm was tight, but he didn’t mind it, figuring it was more for her comfort than his.

“Chris needs to relax and eat and we can’t do either of that at Magic School.” Wyatt explained, gesturing to the pizza place across from them. “So pizza and then we’ll talk.” Chris wasn’t really sure he could keep down pizza, wasn’t really sure he felt hungry, even though he knew he hadn’t had any food since breakfast the day before. But he trusted his older brother and he was getting too tired to care. He was with two people who weren’t asking him questions and that was enough.

Melinda seemed to agree with the plan as she and Wyatt walked with Chris across the street. After a few steps, he could walk fine by himself but their arms around him made him feel safer for the moment.

A bell signaled their entrance and a young man took their orders, frowning a little as he saw Chris, but minding his business as they ordered 1 large pizza and 3 sodas to go. Chris didn’t even tease their sister about her taste in toppings as they each got a third of what they licked. Pepperoni for him, Cheese for Wyatt and Green Peppers and olives for Mel.

Once they made their way back across the street, Wyatt orbed them somewhere they’d all be alone and safe. They finally landed at the park, near one of the boating ponds. It was secluded and it was a place they had helped a couple dryads with the summer prior. All three siblings knew they wouldn’t be disturbed here. Not for a while since it would take their parents and aunts at least some time to scry them.

Chris nearly collapsed on the ground as he went to sit. “No more orbing without food.” He muttered to himself as he settled himself into a seated position. Melinda joined him, sitting close and practically leaning on him as she set the pizza before them. Wyatt did the same on his other side, though there was some distance. He had been carrying the drinks and separated them from the container and set them in front of his siblings.

Chris had been denying he was hungry, too stressed, pained and dizzy to really care about food but seeing the steaming pizza in front of him, his stomach decided it very much NEEDED to be filled as it growled loudly. He reached forward and grabbed a piece from his third and began eating, practically inhaling the first piece. It was exactly what he needed at that moment. Something familiar and it tasted good beyond belief right then. The perfect combination of melted cheese, real pepperoni that had his tongue burning in a good way and wonderfully blended homemade sauce. He groaned as he finished off the piece and reached for another. He glanced at his siblings, pausing as he saw them staring. “What?” He asked with his mouth full of his second bite.

“Just don’t choke.” Was all Melly said before she began to eat as well, much more slowly and less enthusiastically than her middle brother. Wyatt didn’t say a thing, only smiling before eating as well.

The three were mostly silent as they ate, sipping from their drinks occasionally and there came a point where a slight shoving match ensued as Chris stole pieces of Wyatt’s cheese. He had finished off his own food and another two of Wyatt’s before he sat back and rubbed his stomach, finally full. It felt amazing, his headache was leaving and the shake to his hands was as well. He felt more steady as he sat on the ground between his siblings, his dizziness abating as well.

“So, what happened?” Melinda asked, sipping the last of her soda and now casually taking out pieces of the ice to chew on. A habit she knew he hated because of the crunching sound.

Chris sighed and leaned back on the grass, staring at the sky. “A lot.”

“Yep, those are great details.” Melinda countered as she shifted to look at his laid out form. “I know exactly what happened now, so no, don’t say anything else.” She nudged at his knee and Chris knew without looking that Wyatt was probably smiling at her. It was nice to have something normal, everything was so complicated and twisted up in his head and with his family. But Melinda was acting like herself. The person he had never known in the future. This one point of normalcy in his life at the moment.

He sighed again. “They asked what had happened, what I remembered.” He stared up at the clouds above them. “I tried to tell them it was all…. jumbled up.” He nudged his knee on Wyatt’s side to touch his brother’s leg. “Like we talked about last night. I was angry… And it all came rushing on, these memories of them as they were. Annoying and invasive and ignoring everything I was telling them and pushing when I wanted them to back off….” He groaned and closed his eyes. “All I could think of was how they used to be. And then I tried to remember something.” He opened his eyes, staring at the sky but not really seeing the clouds or the leaves on the trees above him. “Something important. Something I had before to remind me of my mission back then. I couldn’t remember what it was… I ended up passing out and--”

“I’m sorry, did you just say you passed out? AGAIN?!” Melinda’s voice cut him off and he tilted his head to look at her, having a few ice cubes hit his chest as she yelled at him. “What do you mean you passed out again? Why didn’t you call me right away? Did you know about that?” She accused their older brother.

Wyatt put his hands up. “He came to me after! I didn’t even know he had until he told me.” Which meant their parents and aunts hadn’t thought to call either of them to tell them either.

Chris sat up on his elbows, brushing the melting ice off his shirt. “It wasn’t for long, maybe a few minutes? I don’t know. But when I came to, I tried to tell them what I was looking for. They knew what it was, but they wouldn’t tell me. And they wouldn’t tell me where I had gotten it or why it was what I chose. They said it probably didn’t exist here and that I hadn’t met the girl it belonged to.”

“Girl?” Wyatt questioned. “Was there a girl in the other future?” He sounded confused but of course with the limited knowledge he had and with what Chris had told him, it was probably in his head that everyone was dead in that other future, nothing but demons around.

“I don’t know, I can’t force myself to remember. I tried and ended up passing out. I know it was small and it was important and I had it on me.” Chris said, flopping back down. “It made me so angry they were keeping that from me. Something I should know.” He said as he shut his eyes again. With his stomach full, he was getting tired again. Tired of all of this. Couldn’t he go back in time, the day before his birthday and freeze that day forever? It had been normal, no demons, no deadly threat, nothing out of the ordinary for once. Just a day with his family as it had always been here.

“You mean like you should have told them before? About Wyatt being evil, about who you really where and why you were there?” There went Melinda being… So damn observant. Chris groaned and covered his eyes. “Yea, can’t imagine why that might come around to bite you in the ass- Hey!” He glanced through his fingers to see Wyatt shove his baby sister.

“Let’s just focus on one thing at a time. You said you were looking for this object, to do what?” Wyatt asked. Chris let his head fall back and his arms went to his sides. The grass was soft here, his fingers running through it, picking up a few pieces and he began to tear them apart over his stomach. “It grounded me before. I know that much, reminded me of my mission to save you. I thought if I could find it. I could do the same thing?”

He didn’t see Wyatt looking at Melinda. But he did feel Melinda lay on her side beside him. He turned his head and saw her rest her head on her arm. “Why do you need that specific object? Why not have an object that represents here and now? This reality. The one you grew up in, not the one you’re trying to remember?”

Chris hadn’t thought of that. He thought the object from before might do that. Hold it and remember the Other Chris’ better and distinguish him from the current him.

“Melly’s right, that sounds like great idea. Something from here that can ground you to us.” Wyatt added. Chris shrugged, “I don’t know what that would be. It needs to be something small, that I can keep on me all the time. Something… made up of my life here.”

“Like us?” Melinda supplied. Chris turned his head to look at her again. She was smiling wide. He reached over and shoved her shoulder making her fall backwards, “Hey!” But she was giggling as she landed on her back. “Maybe not you, gremlin.” He muttered. Then he thought about it. Melinda was actually exactly what he needed, her and this version of Wyatt. His big brother who had never once intentionally hurt him.

“She’s right.” Wyatt said as he watched the two of them from his spot by Chris’ leg’s. “Something of the two of us. Of our family as it is.” Chris watched him as he thought.

“But what?” Chris asked the both of them. What could be something that would represent them as they were? Maybe a little photograph but that could be destroyed really easily, or altered. He thought it might be best if it was something he could touch. Physically hold and focus on.

“What about a tattoo?” Melinda asked, “Like the symbol on the book on your arm or something, you’d remember that, we could all get the same one.” Chris rolled his eyes. “You just want a tattoo and mom will never let you get one.” He challenged. Melinda huffed, “That’s what you think, the second i’m 21, i’m getting a tattoo and she won’t be able to say anything.” She muttered. They both knew their mother would say a lot about that particular subject, despite having numerous tattoos herself.

“What about a necklace?” Wyatt suggested. “Something you can keep on you all the time.” Chris thought about that. It seemed a decent idea, but how would it represent their family? The triquetra was a known symbol, it was possible to find a new age shop with it and get a necklace with it engraved on it.

“What about a ring?” Melinda supplied. “Not so girly, just like a pinkie one? Like a mobster!” But Chris stopped listening after she said a ring. His eyes widened and he sat up quickly. A ring.

A ring!

That’s what the object had been!

“Chris?” Wyatt was waving a hand in front of his face, but Chris could barely acknowledge it. He remembered the weight of it. The single diamond, the small shape. It meant so much to her when he had proposed. He had kept it because she had given it to him, to remind him of his mission. So they could live in a better world together.

“A ring….” Chris whispered. “It was a ring… “ He blinked away tears and looked at his siblings' concerned faces. They were staring at him. “That’s what it was before, a ring… It belonged to someone I really loved. We were engaged, and she died…” He trailed off. He couldn’t recall her face, or her name, there were too many things coming up. Holding hands, cuddling up beside her, the feeling of kissing her for the first time. He remembered someone attacking him, her hand in his chest, stealing his powers. Her dying and him knocking away Wyatt as he prepared to kill him next.

Wyatt was watching him with concern and Chris focused on his short hair, his warm blue eyes, his clean shaven face. It seemed to click for Wyatt and he frowned. “I… That version of me did it, didn’t he?” He asked quietly.

Chris nodded his head slowly. Wyatt looked down at his lap for a moment, silent. He lifted his head and his eyes were beginning to get misted over. “I’m so sorry Chris. For everything he ever did.”

Chris wiped at his eyes. “It wasn’t you.” He said softly. He looked at Melinda and she looked sad but also confused. “You had someone you loved who died… Oh Chris.” She wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug and he returned it. He felt another set of arms around both of them and realized it was Wyatt. He leaned back into his brother’s embrace and closed his eyes. This was his grounding. These two were what he needed.

After a moment, they all broke apart and he wiped at his face again. All three of them were crying now and there were ants on the rest of the pizza they had forgotten about. Melinda was the one who started laughing and Chris and Wyatt joined in. “I love you both.” Chris said through his small huffs of laughter and they both smiled and returned the sentiment. “I think I know what can help you.” Wyatt eventually said. “A worry stone.” He said as he gestured to a rock from the pond behind them.

“A what?” Chris asked. “A rock?” Wyatt shook his hand and pulled one of the smaller pebbles from the pond towards him with his powers. It was smooth and wet from being in the water. “A worry stone. We use them at the hospital sometimes for patients with anxiety. It helps them focus and confront their anxiety in a healthy way.” He explained as he turned the rock over in his hands before presenting it to Chris. “Maybe not this one but something like it. Aunt Phoebe knows about crystals and all that, maybe get something like that?” He suggested.

Chris took the rock, running his fingers over it. Because of the water, it was already smooth, just flat and gray. He really didn’t feel like talking to his aunt right that moment and he would have said as much had Melinda not pulled the rock from his fingers. He frowned at her as she studied it and reached into her purse. He hadn’t even noticed she’d had it on her the whole time. She pulled out a black sharpie and wrote her initials on one side and turned it over and handed it to Wyatt. “Write yours.” She commanded.

Chris was confused and it appeared so was Wyatt but he didn’t argue as he did the same, their handwriting definitely contrasting with each other, one more flowy and graceful and one with a clear but blocky appearance.

“Here.” She said as she took it back from Wyatt. “Gimme your hands.” She said as she held one hand over the rock. Chris stared at her but placed his hand over hers and Wyatt did the same over his. “Melly, what are you doing?”

“Shut up, this is hard coming up with this on the fly.” She muttered as she closed her eyes and began to recite.

‘Take these letters
Set in stone
A piece of family
To hold his own
For my brother’s
Peace of mind
For his way
To easily find.’

The rock glowed between their hands and vibrated slightly while she spoke and Chris watched with wide eyes as she pulled it away from their hands and turned it over in hers. Her initials and Wyatt’s initials were now ingrained in the stone on either side. It had also become slightly flatter in shape and he could run his fingernails over the letters, practically able to trace them with the thickness.

She dropped it into his shocked hands and he ran his fingers over the letters over and over again. He looked up at her smug face and he couldn’t help grinning back. “Thank you.”

“What would you do without me?”

Chapter Text

Eventually, they had to return. The siblings did still live at home and as nice as the day had been with just the three of them in the park. Melinda and Wyatt had pointedly ignored the fact that their phones had gone off nearly 10 times each before they finally shut them off. They realized as the sun was setting that they needed to face their parents and aunts.

Chris had to face them. Though with the stone in his palm, clenched tightly to avoid losing it, he did feel somewhat more grounded. His siblings beside him, Wyatt on the right, strong and protective, Melinda on his left, soft and supportive, he felt like maybe he could end the day without another nosebleed, fainting spell or headache.

When they finally orbed home, the first thing they noticed was the smell. An almost overwhelming smell of sugar coming from the kitchen.

The three looked at each other, that was a clear sign their mother was stressed, baking. She had started it in her later years, instead of taking out her stress and fear on demons and warlocks, she would start to bake. Things that were easy to make and recipes she could lose herself in so she wouldn’t have to think too hard or focus too much. The only real damage it had was that they would have an overabundance of baked goods. It did gain them remarkable good will with the hospital as they often brought the results of a baking binge there to give to the children’s ward or the blood clinic.

They noticed that the lights in the rest of the house were on, almost all of them. As if they were using the lights of the manor to guide them home. Chris squeezed the rock in his hand as he looked at his siblings. Wyatt gave him a nod while Melinda physically pushed him, albeit gently, toward the kitchen.

“Mom?” Chris called out.

There was a crash from the kitchen and then Piper was poking her head out into the dinning room, her long hair was pulled back into a quick braid and she looked like she had been crying. It gave Chris an immediate pang of guilt in his chest.

“Oh baby,” She rushed out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel hanging at her waist before wrapping him in a hard embrace. Chris felt almost awkward with the force of her hug. He was of two minds on how to respond. Hold back as the old him might have done to avoid getting attached or lost in the feeling of his mothers arms, or hug her back just as strongly?

He took a couple of deep breaths, his body stiff before he relented and hugged her back tightly. “Hey.” He said quietly. “I’m sorry. About running away.”

His mom shook her head and leaned back to look up at him, her eyes were shining with tears again. “No peanut, I’m sorry we pushed you so hard. We shouldn’t have expected you to be ready to give us answers. You’re still figuring this out and it’s our job to help you, not make it worse.” Her brown eyes were red and puffy and Chris wondered how long she had cried when he had left that morning, if she had ever stopped.

His mom looked behind him, “We should have guessed that they were with you when we couldn’t get a hold of anyone.” She didn’t sound angry but the way she phrased it, Chris was sure that they were all equally in some kind of trouble. “I’ll deal with you two later.” She just sounded tired before she turned her attention to Chris again. He had always hated having attention on him if it was negative, he had the urge to scrunch up his shoulders as if to protect from a blow, but his mom had never once hit him. It had to be an old instinct from the Other Chris. To hide back and disappear into the wallpaper, cowering from something physical.

There was movement behind him and Chris turned to see Wyatt grab Melinda’s arm to leave, maybe to give him and his mom some privacy, but Melinda wasn’t budging.

“Mom.” Melinda pulled away from Wyatt’s hand and took a step forward,”We think from now on,” She looked at Wyatt over Chris’ head and then back at Chris, he was sure she meant ‘I’ instead of ‘We’ as Wyatt looked a little confused as she continued to speak. “I mean me and Wyatt think we should be with Chris if you guys need to ask him questions. Clearly it overwhelms him and it’s best to have us there to help ground him again. We’re sorry we turned our phones off, but he needed us, needs us.”

There had been no discussion of any kind about this when they were together that afternoon, but Chris did like the idea. Or well the Chris of this timeline, the old Chris raged at the idea of needing some kind of ‘Mental Breakdown Babysitter’ to keep him from full blown freak-outs. But Chris squeezed the rock in his hand again, feeling the engraved words against his palm. Melinda’s idea was a good one, they were an anchor in his head, something to help focus him and also protect him when their aunts went too far.

His mom looked a little conflicted at that thought, Chris didn’t know why she might not like it but in the end she did nod. “I suppose that’s best,” she sighed and reached up, brushing a hand over Chris’ jaw. “I’m sorry peanut, about all the secrets we kept from you, that we’re still keeping from you. We just wanted you to be safe and to let you grow up without knowing what happened to that other version of you. We wanted to give you the best chance to be happy.”

Chris understood, he really did. He hadn’t been happy before, in that timeline, he hadn’t been happy for as long as he could remember. If it wasn’t Leo ignoring him, it was his mothers death, it was living with his grandfather and watching the world begin to crumple and burn in Wyatt’s rage, it was seeing him subjugate millions of people and having to fight a war nearly single-handedly.

Chris took a deep breath, if he had grown up knowing he had died once before, who knows how he would have turned out. “I… think I understand mom.” He said quietly.

His mother dropped her hand to his shoulder and gave it a squeeze before slipping down to grab his wrist and tug him into the kitchen. “I hope you know that you’re still in trouble for hiding from us all day. We couldn’t find you at all.” Chris turned his head to look at Wyatt, who looked way too innocent. He must have been covering them so they couldn’t be scryed. No phones and no scrying, he could bet they would all be grounded for the foreseeable future. The Halliwells had learned long ago to never be unreachable. Chris wondered how many calls and texts he had on his phone upstairs in his bedroom, that he had completely forgotten in the chaos of the last two days.

“Sorry mom.” Chris said as he was pulled into the kitchen and pushed to sit at the small table by his mom. There were LOTS of cupcakes, some already decorated, others waiting to be iced. There were at least 3 plates of cookies and Chris could see more in the oven. It smelled heavily like a bakery and he rubbed at his nose to try and ignore it.

Melinda let out a low whistle as she leaned in the doorway, effectively blocking Wyatt from entering but he was tall enough to see over her. “Jeez mom, you think you made enough? I don’t think you can defeat demons with cookies and cupcakes.” Wyatt whacked her shoulder but she didn’t lose her cheeky smile. Chris gave her a small smirk, she was trying to lighten the mood.

Piper had picked up a used mixing bowl, still covered in tan and brown chunks and pointed the mixing spoon at her, “You’d be surprised what sugar can defeat.” She said before dropping the bowl in the sink. While she set about cleaning up, Chris watched her. He could practically feel the anxiety rolling off of her in waves, which explained all the desserts. He knew he was the cause but at the same time, he wondered why she was the one so nervous when he was the one going through everything. The stone sat heavy in his hand, hidden in his pocket. He hadn’t taken it out, but he kept rubbing it though his fingers, feeling the letters formed into the stone.

“Where’s dad?” Wyatt was the one to ask. Still being blocked from the kitchen by Melinda, purely just to be a brat it seemed as she shifted to keep him from entering every time he tried to push through and they all knew he wouldn’t shove his little sister out of the way or orb, it would ruin the game.

“He’s in the attic, looking through the book and trying to figure out how this all happened.” His mom sighed and finally stopped moving, there wasn’t much to clean up anyway. She was a master chef, she knew to clean up as you went. She looked up as if she could see through the two stories to the attic. “Maybe we missed something, a threat, something from the past that is coming back. Something only Chris would know about or remember?” She muttered more to herself, but Chris heard her.

What demons could he have known from before that could resurface? The spider demon? She didn’t have offspring that they knew of. The manticore? Occasionally Piper received a Christmas card from Derek and his son who had eventually been named Kyle. Chris doubted that it was anything to do with them. The slime demon was destroyed, the time portals he fell through with Leo were sealed… he couldn’t think of what would be the purpose of remembering this past life.

Chris shook his head, “I can’t think of anything that would be a threat. I… He….” Chris trailed for a second and rubbed over the stone in his pocket again, “When I first came back, I had you hunting demons for months. There shouldn’t be a threat left.”

“What if it hasn’t come up yet?” Melinda asked. “What if it’s coming but we don’t know when? You guys have had long standing demon enemies that bide their time right?” She was looking at their mom, Chris noticed Piper had paled some. “Let’s… hope it isn’t something like that.”

The quiet that filled the kitchen felt heavy. There was always the wonder of when the fight would begin. They had been pretty free of demons the last two months. There had been one or two attacks on innocents by warlocks, a forest creature who had gotten lost in the city, and a set of gremlins who had escaped the junkyard Paige had placed them 20 years ago, but no real demon activity.

Did this lull mean something bigger was coming?

Melinda set her hands on her hips, “Well… We should tell dad we’re home.”

Chris looked at her, she looked positive but he could tell she was a little rocked by the idea of something big coming. While the siblings were all grown up now, they hadn’t had a big fight since graduating from school. At least Melinda hadn’t, Chris and Wyatt had assisted with their parents but hadn’t taken the lead on anything just yet. Other than his charges, Wyatt wasn’t doing things on his own either. This could be the first big thing the New Charmed Ones could face.

Piper sighed, “Why don’t you guys head up there, I'm going to clean this up.” She gestured to the kitchen. Chris looked between his mom and siblings. “I’ll help.” He offered. Melinda reached for his shoulder but he gave her a soft smile, “It’ll be okay, go talk to dad.” She didn’t seem convinced but Wyatt bumped her shoulder from behind and then they were gone, walking back through the doorway and upstairs.

Chris turned to look at his mom. She had a hand on her forehead as she looked over all the deserts. “Maybe I went a little overboard…” She sighed and looked at him with one of those smiles that meant she was trying to hide how scared she was. She went to the oven and pulled out the last batch of the cookies, setting them on the stove top and turning off the oven. Chris leaned his elbow on the table and he let out a huff of a laugh, “Maybe a little mom.” She let out a laugh very similar to his and moved to join him at the table. Her hands coming up to support her head as she stared down at the table. Chris was a little rocked by how similar she looked to when she was younger. Hiding her face and trying to figure out the problems without crying. How many times had he seen her do this in the year or so he was with them in the past?

He squeezed the stone again. He wanted to say something to comfort her but what could he say when he felt just as confused and scared by this whole thing?

“I’m sorry peanut.” She spoke first and lifted her head to look at him. “I’m sorry for lying to you, for never telling you anything and for making this so hard for you now. We were scared…” She bit her lip. “I feel like I can’t apologize enough.” She said softly. “Your dad and I…We were so scared when you were first born. We didn’t know if we had actually done it. Saved Wyatt and the future.” She let out a sad little chuckle. “You should have seen us that first year, we barely took you out of the house. Wyatt either. We were so careful that you wouldn’t be exposed to evil. That Wyatt was on the path to good, we barely had lives. And your dad…. He was hit the hardest. He was so frightened by everything that had happened, he went through so much.” She was staring off into the distance, as if watching it happen before her eyes, all over again.

Chris was shocked that she was talking about this at all. “Mom-” She held up a hand to let her keep talking. “You know, I wondered, for years really, if the you, from before… Would be proud of how we handled everything, or if you would think we were crazy. That we didn’t focus on the right things.” She chuckled again. “I’m sorry for everything Chris. But I want you to know we did it for what we thought was a good reason. Not telling you this, or your siblings, we wanted you to grow up with no burdens of who you HAD to be. We wanted you to be your own man with your own choices. Too much of our family has been played by Destiny. You didn’t need that.”

Chris listened and watched her face. Piper, his mom, she was right. If he had known about all of this… Would he have turned out how he did? With the memories crashing through him now, of how he thought and felt… If he had known that he would have to live up to some version of himself that his aunts and dad had known? It might have driven him crazy.

Chris reached across the table and his mom took his hand immediately. “I forgive you mom. You and dad and Aunt Phoebe and Paige.” He held her gaze steady and she sniffed and used her other hand to wipe at her eyes. “I love you Chris.” He gave her a small smile. “I love you too mom.”

She let go of his hand and stood up, coming over and hugging him tightly. Sniffling into his chest. Chris wrapped his arms around her again and held her close. Trying to ignore everything in his head and just enjoy hugging his mother.

After a moment, she pulled away and wiped at her eyes. “Okay, let’s get all this covered and put away, I guess we’ll have a donation for the children’s hospital tomorrow.” Chris agreed with her and began to wrap and package the finished cookies and cupcakes. The unfinished ones were placed aside for tomorrow to finish.

It took probably 30 minutes and by then, even his mom was yawning. It was properly dark outside and they locked the back door before heading further into the house. Neither his mother nor him talked as they ascended the stairs to the attic.

When they reached the open doorway, Chris felt a little thrown as he stepped into the room he had grown up in. It wasn’t like the living room or kitchen which had changing interiors, with new furniture or appliances. Or even his room where he had customized it himself and so severely different from his previous memories.

This room however hadn’t changed at all from what he remembered. He could see the faint chalk outline of the triquetra on the wall, he could see burn marks on the wooden walls. The couch was even the same and in the same place, though much more broken in. The rugs were the same, the window that had been replaced OFTEN was exactly the same arrangement.

He gripped the door handle and squeezed hard. “Chris?” It was his dad who spoke and he closed his eyes for a moment. “Just… Give me a second.” He said quietly before opening his eyes and focusing. His dad stood at the book, like they all had thousands of times. Melinda was on his right with Wyatt on his left, looking over his shoulders at the ancient pages. Chris could see the parallels of his siblings and his aunts standing there with his younger dad. It was dizzying for a moment before he blinked and gripped the stone in his pocket, focusing on Melinda and Wyatt as they stood there staring at him. As they were, not as Wyatt had been.

“I’m good.” He said after a long breath, finally walking all of the way into the room. “Did you find anything?”

His dad frowned but shook his head. “I’ve been flipping through, nothing is coming up that I can think would be an immediate threat to you, or us.” He said as he went back through the pages a few times. Chris pulled both hands from his pockets and crossed his arms and scrunched his shoulders up as he thought. “There’s Paige’s story of her past self coming back, there’s Phoebe talking about possession and there’s the page on Karma, but I can’t see anything that would match what’s going on exactly.” His dad explained before he sighed and stepped away from the book. Wyatt took up his place and was frowning as he began flipping through the book quickly as if he could find something his dad didn’t.

Meanwhile Leo walked around the stand to Chris, placing his hands on his son’s biceps. “I’m sorry about this morning. About pushing you too far.” He said quietly, though Chris was keenly aware of nearly everyone’s eyes on them and was sure they could hear him. “And about not telling you everything. We were just… Trying to help.” He explained with a shrug. It wasn’t a great apology, but Chris accepted it at the moment. He had a moment where he didn’t want to accept it. That he felt righteous anger at Leo for being such a shit dad. But he knew that wasn’t him. Chris was starting to separate it from himself.

“It’s okay dad… Mom already talked to me.” He let out a soft sigh and looked anywhere but at his father at the moment. His mother had moved beside his siblings, her hand rubbing circles on Melinda’s back from what he could see while the three of them looked through the book.

Melinda was the first to break and she sighed loudly, “Can we just ask?” She said looking up at her family. Chris frowned, who would they ask?

“Ask who?” Wyatt echoed Chris’ thought.

“The elders, a whitelighter that’s not a part of our family, the Angel of Destiny themself?” Melinda put her hands on her hips, “Why can’t we just ask someone what might be happening?”

It took a moment before Chris snorted and looked at his parents who looked as if asking someone was the worst thing they could do. “Sweetie…” His mom started. “That’s… Probably not going to help. It might make things even more confusing.” She tried to explain. “They’ll want us to figure it out ourselves, or even possibly not know what’s going on and want to keep an eye on us.” His dad chimed in. “They can’t know everything.”

Melinda huffed and crossed her arms now, mirroring Chris. “We’re the ones they rely on to save people and keep Good on the winning side but they want to be vague and not tell us anything when we need help?” She muttered under her breath. Chris smiled a little at his sister’s slightly bratty nature. She was right but Chris knew that the elders, that the Powers of Good couldn’t always answer everything, or would even want to. What would be the point of Good winning if they had to cheat to do it?

“Sweetie.” Piper shook her head and rubbed Melinda’s back again. “It’s getting late. We should probably head to bed, tackle this tomorrow with a fresh perspective.” Chris had no idea what time it was, but he knew it was dark out and he felt exhausted from the whole day.

“I think you’re right.” Chris was the one to decide. He needed a break already. He figured they wouldn’t get anything else done tonight and while he would be skipping dinner again, he just wanted to curl up and sleep. “I’m tired and we won’t get anywhere tonight.”

Melinda opened her mouth and looked like she wanted to protest but Chris shook his head. He didn’t need to argue with her. And for once it seemed she would listen. She sighed, “Fine, we’ll get back to it in the morning.” She dropped her arms and walked around the book’s stand, Wyatt trailing after her. “Let’s get you some food first.” It seemed Melinda wasn’t going to let him go without eating again.

Chris had to smile some, his little sister taking care of him. A small voice, that was his but wasn’t… It told him not to rely on her too much, she wasn’t always going to be there. Chris stomped that thought out and gripped the stone again. The whole point of the rock was to have something to connect to this timeline and Melinda was a part of this timeline and she was there to help her big brother. Melinda grabbed his wrist, noting that she grabbed at the clenched had around the rock and pulled him towards the doorway. Wyatt coming along beside him. Chris turned to look at his parents in the attic. They looked like they were about to talk and Chris didn’t really want to sit there and listen to it.

He thought they were going to the kitchen again but Melinda nudged him to her room instead. “Go get us some sandwiches.” She said to Wyatt while pointing Chris to her bed. Wyatt rolled his eyes but followed her orders while Chris sat on the edge of her twin bed. He took the stone out of his pocket and began flipping it through his fingers. “So we’re going to eat sandwiches in your room?” He asked.

Melinda shrugged and shut the door. “Don’t get crumbs on my bed, but yes we are. Figured you didn’t want to hide in your room so soon, I’m not going to let you nearly pass out again because you forgot to eat.” She leaned against the door and sighed, running a hand through her hair in a way that reminded him so much of their mother when she was younger.

He flipped the stone again.

“But I can’t pass out if I'm already asleep.” He supplied and she rolled her eyes at him. “Then I’ll eat your sandwich, happy?” Chris couldn’t help chuckling a little. It was quiet for a minute, Melinda looking down at the floor while leaning against the door. Chris took a moment to look around the room. It was the smallest of the bedrooms. Paige had used it once Chris and Wyatt had started to share. Melinda’s twin bed sat in the middle of the room with nightstands on either side. Her dresser was also possibly the biggest of all of the rooms. And her closet door was open, showing all of her clothes. Chris wondered if it was a girl thing to have so many clothes that he was sure she couldn’t wear them all even if she wore a different one for a month without washing them…

The pink and purple of the room was still an eyesore for him and he had helped paint it that way. Endlessly making fun of her as she had shopped for the right colors. That had only been a few years ago, maybe 5 now? He flipped the stone as she caught his attention again when she spoke.

“This is a lot.” Melinda muttered. “Something could be coming that you need those memories for, but what could it be? What would be the point if you’re so confused by them that you can barely think?” She began to pace. Chris watched her go back and forth, muttering to herself. In the time it took her to make two paces, Wyatt orbed into the room, sitting down next to Chris with a plate of three sandwiches.

Chris immediately picked one up and bit into it. Even with teasing Melinda, he knew if he didn’t eat, he would feel sick later and he had thrown up enough in the last two days to last him a while. Thankfully they were nothing fancy, turkey sandwiches with lettuce and mustard. It was enough to just fill his stomach and he elbowed Wyatt in thanks. His brother shrugged and took a bite of his own and joined Chris in watching Melinda pace. “You know, this would go faster if you would help!” Melinda snapped at their older brother.

Wyatt held up his hands. “Magic has a reason for this, we can’t see it now but we will eventually. Our biggest worry right now should be Chris and helping him figure out how to… figure everything out.” Chris snorted at the way he worded it but he did appreciate the help.

“What about when you went to the past? Nothing from that screamed threat that adult Chris might need?” She asked. Wyatt frowned, “No…” He shook his head. “No, I barely saw baby Chris, he wasn’t involved in that demon. He was trying to turn ME evil, remember? I don’t… think he even thought about Chris as an option. I don’t remember him even mentioning Chris before I…. Killed him.” Wyatt looked down at the bed. “That still freaks me out… That I just did that, let mom and our aunts kill him. I’ve seen them do it before, but it was different. He was trying to control me but he kept acting like my friend and I just… Betrayed him.”

Wyatt set down his food and rubbed at his face. “This is so fucked.” Chris bumped his elbow again to get his attention. “It wasn’t you, it was the evil version of you.” He said softly. Chris tapped his own temple. “I’d know the difference.”

Melinda snapped her fingers. “What if that’s it? What if you need to tell the difference between Evil Wyatt and our Wyatt?”

Chris stared at her. Something else trying to turn Wyatt evil? Again? But everyone would know the difference, there was a distinct change in demeanor, in look. Even his powers were different. “Why only me?” He asked quietly. “Why would I be the only one to remember? Mom and dad, our aunts, they all knew what Wyatt looked like when he was Evil. They saw it.”

Melinda groaned. “Stop poking holes in theories and help me come up with some then!” She leaned against the door again. “Why would you have memories of that future when so much is different then? You even said I didn’t exist there. Dad wasn’t around, mom didn’t make it, Wyatt was evil and ruling the world.” Wyatt flinched next to him. “EVERYTHING is different now.”

Chris sighed. “I don’t know Melly. None of this makes any sense to me. All I have are glimpses, I don’t remember anything more pressing then Wyatt, Gideon was the last threat I was there for and he’s gone.” He turned to look at Wyatt who was staring off into the distance and pale. “I don’t think it’s because of Wyatt that I have these memories.”

Melinda looked at their older brother, watching his face, and she took a deep breath. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe we have to just… Wait it out.” It was clear she didn’t like the idea of it. Of waiting for a threat to reveal itself but what else could they do?

There was silence in the room for a few minutes. Chris had finished his food already, pushing the plate away. He glanced at Melinda’s bedside clock and saw it was after 9pm. It was dark outside, though never truly dark in San Francisco. “We should go to bed, like mom said. Try again tomorrow.” Chris finally spoke. He felt the exhaustion in his bones and now that he had something in his stomach, he just wanted to curl up and try to sleep. Hopefully with no nightmares.

It was silent again as his siblings looked him over. Chris felt like they were studying him and it was creeping him out the longer it went on. “Guys?” They shared a quick look with each other then looked back at him.

“Are you okay to stay by yourself?” Wyatt asked. Chris shrugged, “Even if I wasn’t, what could you guys do?” Chris ran a hand through his hair. “You can’t get in my head to stop any nightmares.” He stood up and brushed crumbs off his shirt. Ignoring Melinda’s moan of annoyance. “You’re across the hall, I’ll shout if I need you guys.” He flipped the stone in between his fingers again. He didn’t really know if he would count the dreams he had so far as nightmares. They were scary, there was no doubt, but did something scary actually happen in them? Or was the unknown the scary part?

Wyatt stood up too and put his hand on Chris’ shoulder. “Seriously, you can both stay in my room if you want to. My bed’s big enough, we could all fit.” Melinda nodded from the doorway, it was clearly the option she liked the best. Wyatt did have the best bed of the siblings, a queen. They had both slept in it after nightmares or hard threats or losing an innocent.

Chris shook his head. “No thanks, I want to get some sleep, not have your foot in my back.” He tried to joke. His siblings didn’t look impressed and he sighed. “I think I just want to sleep in my own bed, to try to get back to normal.” What was normal for him anymore? He flipped the stone again. This was normal for him. His brother and sister caring about him, wanting to keep him safe.

Melinda walked up to them and wrapped her arms around him. “You sure?” She asked quietly against his chest. Wyatt’s hand was still warm on his shoulder.

Chris took barely a second before he embraced her just as hard. Closing his eyes briefly before opening them again. “Really guys, I’ll shout if I need you.” Chris hugged Melinda tight again before letting her go and smiling back at Wyatt. He turned and opened her door, walking out into the hallway and across to his own room. It was less of a whiplash feeling as he entered and saw his room as he had left it that morning. Nothing like what he felt in the attic before.

He turned and saw Melinda and Wyatt watching him from her doorway before he shut the door. He stared at the wood of his door before sighing and turning around to face his room.

It was silent in his room, the lights were slightly harsh, so he switched off the ceiling light and put on his desk light instead with a simple flick of his fingers. He ignored the mirror as he changed his clothes into some loose pajama pants. He didn’t even bother with brushing his teeth or showering.

As he crawled into bed, he reached for his phone, more out of habit than anything. There were dozens of missed calls. From his mom and dad, from his aunts, from his cousins. At least 30 texts from all of the above, ranging to asking how he was to wanting to know where he was, to apologies and then a few from friends who had no idea what had happened in the last 2 days. Wishing him happy birthdays or offering to hang out.

He didn’t reply to any of them. Just made sure he had seen them before he set it off to the side and turned off his lamp. He curled up on his side, facing the window. The shades were still drawn from this morning, so he didn’t see the moon outside, but he was sure it was shining right in his window like usual. He was bodily exhausted, mentally stressed and emotionally drained. He could barely keep his eyes open now that it was quiet and things weren’t moving. Except for in his head. Melinda’s question rang in his head. Was this all happening because someone wanted to turn Wyatt evil?

It had been years since someone had even had that idea. Wyatt wasn’t an impressionable 2 year old anymore. He was a grown adult, he even had charges of his own. He had his own career he was heading towards. Being an EMT was his passion and he wanted to help people. He was a paragon of Good magic. It would be nearly impossible to turn him evil now. He didn’t have an evil bone in his body. Not even a drop of ink in the milk of his being that could darken him.

So why did these memories come now? Of all times? What could be coming for them? WAS something coming for them?

He closed his eyes and felt himself drift off.

Chapter Text

*Two Months Later*

No threat appeared. Their lives were as normal as they could be with the Charmed Ones having children and two full-time jobs as Defenders of Good Magic and people who needed to actually earn enough funds to eat.

Chris had gone back to work at his mother’s restaurant, as a part-time server and bartender. Wyatt continued his work program as an aspiring EMT. Melinda was still taking college classes at Magic School, so she was exempt from working so far.

Nearly everyday since his memories returned, Chris would find himself doing something he didn’t used to. He would hang in doorways to eavesdrop on conversations, like he wasn’t welcome or he was gathering intelligence. For who, he didn’t know.. Chris would hunch his shoulders to make himself smaller when there were raised voices in an environment he wasn’t comfortable in. More than once he had caught himself tensing up to orb away around his aunts when they were annoyed or arguing, as if he had to get out of the line of fire.

Even his talisman wasn’t helping as often as he had hoped. He had drilled a hole through the top of the rock and wore it as a necklace now, always on him at all times.

He had a terrifying moment where he had reached for a boxcutter as a weapon when his mother surprised him in the walk-in at work. He had grabbed it out of reflex and spun around when he felt a hand on his shoulder. She had stared horrified at him and he had dropped it immediately. There had been shocked silence between them before she had told him to go home and he had orbed without a second thought.

The box cutter had been the last straw. Chris had stumbled as he had landed in his bedroom and had gripped at the talisman around his neck hard. He had tried to ground himself with the stone but the look on his mother’s face, the shock and small amount of fear she had in her eyes… It had sent him spiraling into memories that merged together like wet paint on a canvas. That look when she saw him hovering beside a demon scanning baby Wyatt for evil. It was the same look she had in her eyes as a demon had attacked him and his little sister when he was 12, playing in the park and he had clutched at Melinda to protect her while his mother stood in front to shield them. It was the look on her face when she found out that he had been lying the whole time about Wyatt being the Evil from the future. That same look when he and Wyatt had nearly blown up the attic with an amateur potion, sending both of them to Paige with minor burns for healing.

The pain of the memories flowing together had sent him falling to his knees on his floor. Even trying to focus on the hardwood beneath him hadn’t helped and Chris’ head had begun to pound viciously with each beat of his heart. He had groaned and called out for Wyatt. His brother had shown up only moments later and found Chris with his nose bleeding and, according to Wyatt, on the verge of passing out from hyperventilating.

It had taken an hour just to settle Chris and he hadn’t been able to look his mother in the eyes for the rest of the day.

None of these actions were conscious, all instinct, bred in a life he hadn’t lived. It felt as though he was looking at the world with glasses on, each lens a different color. One clear and clean, the other foggy and tinged red or blue. Nothing looked right but it made him feel as though he had to be prepared for anything.

All of this was scary, but it was nothing compared to the DREAMS.

Swirling images of memories the other him had lived through. At least one a night. Sometimes a series of events in succession, other nights, random instances thrown together with no pattern.

One night; Chris at five years old and seeing Wyatt get lifted on his fathers shoulders during a summer barbecue. Neither looking back at him and when he asked for the same, his father said he was too tired. Then fast forwarding to being 11 and seeing his father fighting with his mother in the parlor and then taking Wyatt, and only Wyatt out on a trip to the zoo. Leaving Chris behind. It had been fine anyways, he had gotten to spend the day with his mom in the kitchen. The feeling of being abandoned had started to become the norm. Then fast forwarding again to seeing his father at his mothers funeral, standing in the back, Wyatt clutching his hand to hold him still from running to his father to hug him. Knowing it wouldn’t be returned. Knowing the only thing his father saw in him was a disappointment.

Another night; Chris had tossed and turned, seeing Wyatt force the demons to crown him while Chris watched from the sidelines, unable to stop it. Only able to obey his older brother while he forced the Underworld to its knees and revealed magic to the world at large. Dragons roaring through the sky, the city on fire and Wyatt’s promise to the world that if they would trust him, he could make it all go away. All it caused was the creation of modern day Witch Hunters. And the development of scanners to find hidden witches and cage them, taking them from the world forever.

Another night; Seeing a red jacket as it slipped through a doorway, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, showing off a slender and tan neck. A smile on his face as he chased after her. A feminine laugh echoing in his ears. A hand squeezing his and another covering his eyes, saying there was a surprise and he couldn’t peek.

Sometimes the dreams weren’t bad, either too fast or too blurry, hard to make out to really understand what had been happening, but the feelings always lingered by morning. Waking up with fear pulsing through him, or covered in sweat from adrenaline. Even mornings waking with tears on his face.

He had been able to handle most of it.

Until the night he dreamed of his mother’s death. Chris didn’t remember much about that night. He only knew he had woken the entire house with his screams. Melinda had said that their father had to shake him hard to wake him up. According to his father, Chris had recoiled so fast from his father’s face that he had fallen off the bed. Chris remembered hitting the floor his mother said that when she came over to him, he had grabbed her and clung to her. A sobbing mess that was begging her not to let go of him.

Chris didn’t remember much of that night except that he had finally passed out from exhaustion hours later, his mother still holding onto him. That had been the first night since Chris was 10 years old that Chris had slept in his parents bed beside his mother.

It had also been the last night he slept at all.

That had been nearly a week ago.

Chris sipped at his coffee as he sat on the couch in the parlor. Wyatt had work today and Melinda was already at Magic School. He was blessedly alone for the moment. Since his nightmare/memory, A “Memor-mare” as Melinda had decided to call them, he had someone’s eyes on him, day and night.

Chris refused to call it a Memor-mare, mainly on principle since it was a stupid word, and he refused to tell any of them what he had seen. It still flashed in his brain, the brightness of the blood, the way it splattered the cabinets in the kitchen. He still couldn’t go into the room itself. He had never thought he would see something like that again. He knew there had been flashes of it the day his memories returned. But this had been so much more detailed. He saw everything the way it had happened, like a movie in his own head with no pause button, no rewind, no fast forward. Nothing to stop it or hide him from seeing it.

Chris took a shuddering breath and sipped at more of his coffee. He really was starting to hate the taste. It was the only thing keeping him awake though. He didn’t want to sleep anymore, though he knew he needed it. He didn’t want to see any more memories, feel any more feelings from a life he didn’t live. He just wanted to go back to normal.
He leaned back on the couch, he couldn’t lay down even if it was more comfortable. He couldn’t risk falling asleep. Especially not while he was waiting for his next babysitter to show up. He didn’t know which of his cousins drew the short-straw, but he wasn’t really thrilled to have another day of one of his family members staring at him as if he was going to spontaneously combust.

Maybe he would, who knew at this point.

The doorbell rang but he didn’t bother to get it. He didn’t have to, either it was a delivery, which would be dropped off, or a cousin would appear on the other side of the door in 30 seconds. It had been standard procedure since nearly all of them could teleport now. It had been drilled into all of them as a way to be polite and to announce yourself, especially when there was no way of knowing if someone was clothed on the other side of the door.

Chris lifted his head as 30 seconds passed and a red glow appeared to form a person standing in the foyer. P.J. wiped her bangs out of her face before looking around and spotting him on the couch. At age 20, she looked much like Phoebe, though her brown hair had eventually darkened more to resemble her father’s black hair. She kept it short trimmed, almost as short as Wyatt’s, though left long bangs that hung in her face. While her mother had been a punk in high school, P.J. had never really left the phase, choosing to wear darker colored clothing, but never strictly black. More purples, reds and even hot pink like today. Her ensemble included a dark red shirt with black tiger stripes and dark purple skinny jeans. Her shoes were hot pink with black laces and stood out when she walked.

“Hey.” She said as she wandered into the parlor, sitting on the opposite couch from him and leaning back to get comfortable. Despite the short hair and her clothes, the look she fixed him with made Chris take a deep breath and reach up and grip his stone, still hanging around his neck. P.J. looked so much like a young Phoebe with that look that it rocked his vision for a second. “You good?” She asked, concern in her tone as she leaned forward, in case she had to get up suddenly.

Chris shut his eyes and hummed, “Hm? Yea, fine.” He said and took another deep breath. “Never realized how much you look like your mom.” He muttered as he opened his eyes again.

“Geez, don’t say that, mom will start gushing and I’ll have to calm her down and you know I hate using my powers on my mom. Besides, I know she hates that I cut my hair short again.” P.J. sighed but grinned playfully.

Of all his younger cousins, Chris thought that maybe, outside of Henry Jr., she might have been his favorite. Though some voice in his brain also whispered she was one of the more powerful next to him and his siblings. Despite being the youngest, with her Cupid powers as well as her witch powers and the fact that she had her mom’s empath abilities AND could manipulate a person’s emotions, she would be a great ally if need be.

Chris shut that voice down hard and took another sip of his coffee, grimacing at the taste again. He flinched slightly when P.J. suddenly leaned forward and took his cup, sniffing at it and looking at the color. “Do you want some?” He asked as she set it back down but looked at him suspiciously.

“No thanks, but with the way you look, I thought there might be booze in there or something.” She said as she gestured to his body. Chris looked down at himself, while he hadn’t been sleeping, he had been showering every day and wearing clean clothes. He hardly looked like a bum or an alcoholic. Though he guessed, from the bags under his eyes and the general exhausted feeling in his body, he probably looked like he was drunk or hungover.

“I haven’t been sleeping, lay off.” He muttered. “Did you get stuck with babysitting duty?”

“I volunteered, especially since you made Tamora upset yesterday.” She crossed her arms and glared at him.

“I didn’t mean to, but she was bothering me, insisting on doing ‘activities’ all day.” Chris used his fingers to air quote. His younger cousin had tried to get him to engage with her all day, first taking a walk around the neighborhood, then with a movie and a tv show after that, she tried to play scrabble with him and cards and eventually he had snapped at her that he wasn’t a damn mental patient and didn’t need to be doing things all day to stay sane.

Tamora had gone home after calling for Melinda and his sister had smacked him upside the head and forced him to help her with homework as punishment. While Melinda chose to pursue college classes, P.J. took a year off, even though they were the same age.

“I’ll apologize later okay?” Chris relented when P.J. continued to glare at him. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Seriously, I don’t think I need a babysitter, or someone to keep my attention with ‘activities’.” He air quoted again. “I just need… All this to go away.” He muttered as he leaned back into the couch and mirrored her by crossing his arms.

P.J. was silent for a moment before Chris heard her hum. “Well, that’s not going to happen, BUT what I think you actually need is a good night's sleep.”

Chris snorted. “Well, that’s not going to happen.” He mimicked her with an eye roll. She may have been his favorite cousin but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to get annoyed with her when she suggested something stupid.

“What if I can guarantee no nightmares?” She asked, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “I can sense you while you sleep and when you start to feel off, I can push you towards a good feeling?” She offered with a smile on her face.

Chris frowned as he took in her offer. She did know how to manipulate emotions or “Pushing” as she called it but it didn’t seem feasible and he KNEW his uncle Coop had told her not to use it unless necessary.

“How do you know it will work and it won’t just push me into another nightmare? Or trap me in a dream I can’t wake up from?” Chris countered. P.J. nodded her head in thought, “That’s possible I suppose but I don’t see how it could be much worse than this.” She gestured to him again. “I can feel your emotions running amuck in your system. It’s like everything is right below your skin. If your skin was transparent, it’d be like a rainbow lightning storm in there.” Chris didn’t really like that comparison but according to P.J. emotions all had colors to them, so he supposed that made sense. Though he didn’t have to like the imagery.

“Did you not hear me say 'trap me in a dream I can’t wake up from?’” Chris repeated. P.J. sighed, “I heard you, but don’t you think it’s worth the risk so you can get some sleep?” She leaned back and stood up, moving to pace behind the couch, much like her mother. “Chris, everyone is worried. You shouted at Tamora, you haven’t been sleeping, you’re mainlining coffee and I KNOW you hate coffee. You’ve barely eaten and don’t deny it, I can feel your hunger, remember? And your stomach is growling.” Chris rubbed at his stomach, having not really noticed that his stomach was making noises, but he couldn’t go into the kitchen by himself. Meanwhile P.J. continued to rant to him. He KNEW everyone was worried about him. Hence the endless stream of babysitters until a family member came home since his nightmare. He was beginning to get angry, though some of it could be blamed on the lack of sleep, but he wasn’t a child! He didn’t need babysitters and worried looks, he needed someone to actually help him figure this memory thing out before he did actually go insane.

And P.J. was still ranting.

“ALRIGHT STOP!” Chris yelled as he stood up. P.J. stopped in her tracks, staring at him. He glared at her and she glared right back and raised an eyebrow at him. He suddenly knew what she was about to do and he held up his hand. “Don’t. You. Dare.” He growled.

She gave him a smirk and he felt a wave of peace wash over him. His knees wobbled and he fell back onto the couch, bouncing slightly at the landing. He had an urge to wave his hand and toss her to the other side of the room, or even out the window but he fought it down. Instead he glared up at her. “You’re a bitch.” He muttered, trying to shake the feeling off, but it didn’t fade.

It washed over his skin like gentle waves at the beach, slipping under his skin and invading his bones. He could feel how weary he was and it wasn’t a surprise to him. But with the feeling came the overwhelming sense of “Home.” The feeling of walking through his front door after a bad day, where everything else faded away and he could just rest and be.

Chris found his eyes slipping shut as the feeling continued to breeze over him. He didn’t register P.J. sitting next to him until he felt the couch move slightly and her voice came from his right side, much closer than before. “You can shout at me later, but if you don’t relax, you’re going to give yourself an aneurysm at 23.” She said with a sigh. “I’m going to back it off now.” She said and the feeling began to subside, not fully disappearing, but just resting underneath his skin and lingering.

Chris opened his eyes and rubbed at them, he was so sick of crying. And in front of his baby cousin too. “You’re a bitch.” He repeated.

“Yea I know, but it worked right? No one told me how hard you were having it and then I was with dad out on a job, otherwise I would have been here the next morning.” She said as she rubbed his shoulder. “You needed that, and you need sleep. I told you, I can listen in and when I feel you start shifting, I’ll push you to a better feeling. Just let me help you.” P.J. sighed. “I want to help you.”

Chris leaned his head back and closed his eyes again, it felt so good to just close his eyes. “You have to call Wyatt so he can get mom and dad if it goes wrong okay?” He said, turning his head and opening his eyes again to fix her with a serious look. “I mean it. No trying to just fix it yourself, call Wyatt, mom and dad.”

P.J. gave him a smile. “Of course.” She squeezed his shoulder and stood up. “Come on, let’s get you up to bed then, unless you want to take a nap down here?” She gestured to the couch and Chris sighed, the feeling had all but faded now and he was able to shake it off enough to stand. “I hate you.” He muttered as he made his way towards the stairs. P.J. followed behind, “No you don’t.” She countered as they took the stairs.

Chris felt weird as he climbed into his bed. He didn’t have to change into any pajamas as he had already been wearing his softest and most well-worn clothing as a comfort mechanism. P.J. had grabbed his desk chair and swiveled it around to face him and planted herself in it, rubbing her hands together as if she was eager. “Do you have to be in the room? This feels weird.” He said as he settled into the pillows, laying on his back, feeling awkward and trying not to stare back at his cousin.

“Yes, so I can actually see you, but just pretend I'm not here.” She said as she leaned forward to observe him intently. “That’s kind of hard when I can feel your eyes on me.” He said, staring at the ceiling.

“Just shut your eyes and pretend I'm not here. With what Melly said, you’ll probably drift off from exhaustion anyways.”

Chris supposed that was true, but there was still the fear that this wouldn’t work, that perhaps her powers wouldn’t work and he’d be forced to see more death and pain. Or worse, somehow he would be trapped in that dream world and never regain consciousness ever again. Forced to relive memories that weren’t his own. See loved ones die or become murderous. Never see his sister’s face again or even know of P.J.’s existence.

He shuddered at the fear that ran up his spine before forcibly relaxing as he felt the soft and gentle, “Home” feeling wash over him again. “Close your eyes. I’m right here.” P.J. said from off to the side. Chris spared her one last glance before shifting to his side, putting his back to her and shutting his eyes.

He hoped he didn’t dream at all.

Chapter Text

Chris hated this feeling, bone deep exhaustion weighing down his body and yet his mind was racing. There weren’t thoughts he could grasp onto, instead he was laying still but his mind felt full. Busy and buzzing as it tried to shut off enough for him to sleep. There was the nagging fear that despite his cousin’s confidence she could influence his dreams, that this wouldn’t work. He would fall asleep and see things he never wanted to see. So much death and destruction and his older brother in the middle of nearly all of it. He huffed out a breath of air in frustration and rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands, seeing the colors explode behind his eyelids from the stimulation.

P.J. 's presence wasn’t exactly helping much. Chris could swear that he could feel her eyes on him. He even shifted to laying on his side, facing away from his desk in an attempt to ignore her. It was completely silent and the ringing of it was bothering him. He usually didn’t have trouble sleeping in complete silence but since this all started months ago, the lack of noise made his skin crawl and his muscles tense. He would pay more attention to any little sound, to the point he could swear he could hear a spider crawl on the wall. Sometimes he was sure that the silence around him was ringing despite the fact he knew he didn’t have tinnitus. Perhaps his future self did.

P.J. being there, shifting in his chair wasn’t helping now and he could feel the heaviness of her gaze as she watched him. He tried to shift in the bed again and grabbed his pillow, pulling it to his chest and buried his face in it as he lay on his side.

“Do you need help?” She finally asked. Chris sighed loudly and pulled the pillow away from his face to open his eyes, staring at the wall before him. “It’s too quiet in here.” He said with a groan. “And you watching me is bothering me.” He said as he looked over his shoulder at his cousin. She raised an eyebrow at him and wiggled her fingers at him in a bratty way. “I could push you a little.” She offered.

“You can’t make me sleep.” He muttered as he turned to lay back on his side, still hugging his pillow to his chest. He slept like that a lot now, needing to wrap his arms around something other than himself. Probably just used to laying on his side on that crappy couch in the back of the old club. He closed his eyes trying again, ignoring his cousin for the moment.

P.J. had never really unleashed her powers on her cousins so he didn’t believe she had the ability to make him sleep. She could control emotions, not the body, that much Chris was sure. After all, Cupid’s couldn’t force their charges to sleep, or to do anything really. They inspired them to take action, to follow their feelings. Even a half-Cupid with witch powers shouldn’t be able to force him to do something. Maybe ‘inspire’ him but with how hard he had been resisting, he doubted she could do much other than calm him down.

There was no reply from behind him for a few minutes before it hit him. The same peaceful feeling she had pushed at him downstairs. It felt like a heavy mist, washing over his body. Where downstairs, she had calmed him down in a subtle manner, letting it wash over him carefully. This was heavy and thick. It seeped through his exhausted muscles and into the very marrow of his bones. He took deep breaths and it pushed down over him again. It could be compared to a weighted blanket, forcing his body further into sleep. He tried to shift his legs or arms and he felt resistance, as if his body was just too tired to make an effort. Chris took another deep breath and sank further into his mattress. His eyes had already been shut but now he couldn’t find the effort to open them or speak. He thought he heard a triumphant,”Wanna bet?” Before he was out.

~

There was nothing at first. He was floating, existing.

Flashes of color surrounded him, popping around him like fireworks.

He didn’t need to focus on a feeling, there wasn’t one.

There was no time at all, it was at the same time, too soon and took forever before images began.

A woman cradled on the attic floor in the ruined remains of a table. Her face wasn’t clear, Chris could only stare at the table leg impaled through her abdomen. She was wearing black leather, slick with blood around her middle. She was shaking with pain and taking gasping breaths. Chris tried to hold her but she grabbed his hands, telling him to go, to take the spell so he couldn’t follow. He was crying, nodding as she died and racing towards the book, saying the spell as fast as possible and ripping it away before diving into a swirling portal. A look of hatred on his face, mirroring his big brother’s as he watched him leave.

Chris shuddered, another death, he was swimming in the surface of waking up in pain and fear again before he was swept under once more.

A red jacket, a garden, a bench, a hand in his. Manicured fingernails, a glimmering ring. The name was missing but he knew her face. The first time there was detail to it. Honey brown eyes, tanned skin, brown highlighted hair framing her face. Light pink lipstick on a smiling mouth. She looked at him like he was her entire world, and she was his.

She leaned forward and kissed him softly, he knew she was holding back tears and he reached up, caressing her cheek and kissed back. Whispered words of love passing between them.

When he pulled back, he rubbed her hand with the ring on, on the opposite hand, a birthmark of a Phoenix was as clear as ever.

The scene shifted and he struggled to hold. He didn’t want to lose this moment! His eyes opened and there were tears on his lashes.

His bedroom wall greeted him. The same wall he had been facing. It felt as though no time had passed at all. Did he blink and imagine all of that? Did he even fall asleep or was he consumed by the memories again. He no longer felt completely exhausted but he was still tired and drained. He blinked and his face felt tacky and it took far too much effort to lift his hand and wipe away the tears he found on his cheeks. He took a deep breath and forced himself to sit up. He still felt some residue of his cousin’s power in his limbs. He felt more peaceful but it was quickly fading now that he was sitting up. He suspected she was pulling back.

He turned and P.J. in the same chair she had been in. Now curled up with her legs criss-crossed on the chair. She looked tired, the same weariness on her face that Chris had seen people make after taking a hard test at school. Was it hard on her to maintain control over his emotions while he was asleep? What had he been reflecting while he was asleep? His aunt had said it was like a firework show with his emotions months ago, was it similar to P.J.?

“Well… That was interesting. It's only been two hours.” She said with a tired sigh, she brushed some hair away from her face. “I don’t know what you were dreaming about but the emotions… Felt like a bomb going off, all this anger and sadness. I tried to push you towards a calm feeling and then just this burst of love.” She uncurled herself and stood up and stretched her body and her back. “I don’t know what future that other you came from, there was so much pain and anger.” She walked over to Chris’ bed and gave him a soft smile, “But you were loved and you felt love in it too.”

Chris wiped at his face again. “Wish you could read minds. Then you could tell me her name. I keep seeing parts of her, but I can’t remember her name. I know she was important.” He felt helpless as well as annoyed that he couldn’t grasp her name. It rattled around in his head over and over again but he couldn’t grab it and say it. Maybe she was the key to this whole thing. If he could just grasp her name, remember her . Then he could fix all of this.

P.J. looked sad at that. “Sorry cus. You know that’s not part of the Cupid rules package. I can see who might be a good match for you, could tell you if who you were with is really love or lust, but I can’t tell you who exactly you’ll end up with. Besides, I’m not supposed to do that with family. Dad’s orders.” She sighed again and sat beside him on the bed. Chris swung his legs over the side to rest his feet on the floor. “Maybe you’re getting these memories because they mean something to you, or will. Mom and Aunt Paige and Aunt Piper have been talking about how this might mean a threat is coming. But what if the threat isn’t to you? What if it’s to someone you knew? Someone you loved?” She offered.

Chris stared down at his hands. “There’s so much darkness in there. I think I did love someone but I can’t sift through it all to find them.” He muttered as he raised one hand and slipped it through his hair. “How would I even know them? If I can’t see them clearly and I can’t remember their name, how could I even find them?”

“You said you keep seeing parts of ‘her’, so you know it’s a woman, what else do you remember?”

Chris tried to remember parts of his dream, closing his eyes and reciting them as he thought of the details. “Manicured nails… Dark brown hair… Brown eyes… Red leather jacket…”

He heard a laugh from beside him, “Sounds like someone I might get along with.”

Chris leaned over and nudged her shoulder with his own, his eyes still closed. “She looked at me with so much love and trust. I don’t think anyone has ever looked at me like that.” He muttered. He tried to recall more details. The exact shade of her tanned skin, the way her smile lit up her face. How rough her hands had been…

Chris opened his eyes, “She had a tattoo of something on her wrist. I know I've seen it before.” He glanced at P.J. and she raised her eyebrows in return. “What did it look like?” She asked. He hummed and drummed his fingers on his knees. “It was red, oval shaped… Like a bird of some kind.” He made himself stand up and though he had finally gotten some sleep, he definitely felt it wasn’t enough. But at least he could stand without being dizzy.

“A bird?” P.J. repeated as she watched him begin to pace. “Like an owl?” She suggested. Chris shook his head. “No, I've seen it before, but it didn’t look as vivid when I did….” He suddenly paused and looked up at his ceiling. He remembered seeing her before in a dream, her hand buried in his chest. It meant she was magical in nature. Though possibly not Good. The Book was full of markings, demon, witch and other magical creature related ones. “Let’s go check the Book.” He said looking back down at P.J.

“The Book? Why would it be in there? Do you think she was a demon?” P.J. looked confused and Chris didn’t blame her, he didn’t have any more details for her though. He barely had any for himself in the river of memories. It wasn’t exactly odd if someone in their family fell in love with a demon at one point or another. P.J.’s mother being the most famous case in most of the world. It might be possible that whoever this woman was, she was a demon.

“Maybe. But I know I've seen that tattoo before.” Chris shrugged and left the room, his cousin trailing behind him as he practically marched his way up to the attic. He had been avoiding it for weeks now. There were so many memories here, his and the other Chris’ that were so jarring at times, but he had to force himself to go inside now. It seemed silly to go to the doorway and ask his cousin to fetch the book for him. The family had learned throughout the years, it was simply safer to keep the Book rightly on its pedestal in the most protected room in the house.

As he reached the doorway, his eyes reflexively moved around the room, searching for threats. There were none, but he recognized the wall from his memory, where he and the girl had come through and where he had returned to the past from. He could see in his mind the chalk drawing he had used to step into the past... He stepped through the doorway, his cousin behind him.

He ignored the heaviness in his mind of memories threatening to push through and walked to the book, flipping it to the front cover and going page by page, searching for the symbol. Chris lost track of P.J. in the room, his focus completely on the pages in his hands. He saw images, stories and symbols he recognized from both timelines and around three-fourths’ of the way through his hand stopped. “There!” His hand slammed down next to the page labeled, “Phoenix.”

Chapter Text

The image was exactly the same as his dream and he traced it with his finger as P.J. finally came around to his side and began to read the entry outloud. “Descended from the Witch Trials with vengeance in their hearts, the Phoenix are a family of assassin witches who are very elite, very powerful and who are born with the distinctive birthmark of the Phoenix…” Her voice faded out as Chris traced the image again. Memories flashed before his eyes.

A hand with an athame in it, held aloft during a fight, the tattoo on full display.

A kneeling woman clad in black leather, the tattoo on her inner arm as she waited for orders.

Holding rough hands, the tattoo turned up and him pressing his lips to the marking.

Laying beside a woman, both of them naked and content, his fingers tracing the tattoo as he was doing now, her sleeping peacefully as he did so.

“Chris!”

He was shocked from the shout and he stumbled back from the Book to see P.J. looking at him in panic. “Are you okay?” She asked. “You were so still and all I felt was this huge burst of Love and Sadness from you.” She took a step closer to him. “Do you need to sit down? Do I need to call Wyatt?”

Chris shook his head in the negative. Still focused on that image of the Phoenix. His mind was still reeling with memories. That tattoo at the center of them, the edges of everything else were fuzzy.

That tattoo hidden by a stylish black leather cuff he had bought her for dates together.

Brushing his thumb against it when he grabbed her by the wrist to get her attention.

Her arms thrown up above her head, as her back arched and he kissed down her stomach…

Chris felt like he was shaking, he dimly realized as he continued to stare at the image in the book.

“Chris….” His cousin called him, her tone unsure.

Chris could see her face clearly, this beautiful woman he had loved. The woman’s name was still missing from his mind. “I can’t remember her name, but that was her marking.” His throat was tight, his voice hoarse when he spoke.

“There’s more on the page.” He wasn’t focusing on his cousin’s face but P.J. pointed to the page, at the bottom. Chris walked closer and saw in modern pen in his mother’s handwriting. ‘Known Phoenix Witches: Lynn and Bianca. 2004.’

Chris ran his finger over the names, Lynn didn’t ring any kind of bell, but the other name… He said it outloud. “Bianca.” He muttered.

‘Bianca’

‘Bianca’

“Bianca…” Chris whispered the name out loud again, his eyes were wide as he stared at the name listed. There was nothing after that, just the two names and date in his mother’s scrawl, but behind his eyes, images exploded as they had been doing for months. So many memories of him with her beside. Flashes of fighting, flashes of intimate moments. And the name resounding in his head, hundreds of other voices calling it out. Wyatt calling Bianca’s name to summon her, Chris calling her in a playful manner, in a scared tone, in an angry tone. Whispering her name while they made love, crying out her name when he saw her get hurt on a mission for his brother.

Bianca, Bianca, Bianca.

Tears were falling from his eyes and he stumbled back and fell to his knees. The world had gone unfocused and he could only stare straight ahead, unseeing the real world but at the mercy of the memories flashing before his eyes. The ring was hers. It was small, silver with a single diamond, all he could have afforded and even then, he had to ask his aunt Paige for the rest of the money. He had asked Bianca to marry him. To be his fiancé in a time when there was no hope left, when the only chance for happiness for either of them, for the world was his mission to the past. Where he would never see her again.

He shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself. She had died before his eyes and he could still feel the pain of losing her all over again. He shut his eyes tight but the tears still came. His body bent forward, his head nearly hitting the floor. Grief consumed him. It was all fresh again. He couldn’t mourn in the past. He couldn’t allow the sadness to fill him up as it did now. He had felt the love from her and it was stripped in seconds. His heart was pounding, maybe he was having a heart attack. In his head, there was so much noise and static. He didn’t listen to anything around him, so he lashed out when he felt arms around his shoulders, trying to straighten him back up.

He pushed himself up and out of the arms, turning and opening his eyes to see Wyatt stumbling back but still standing. P.J. was standing off to the side, she looked panicked but Chris didn’t pay much attention to her. His mind was still reeling with Bianca’s name and the very last time he had seen her. Wyatt tried to call his name but all he could see was long hair and black attired Evil Wyatt. Glaring at him for his betrayal. Grief was replaced by Anger and Chris swung his arm and sent Wyatt flying into the wall, knocking something down and there was the sound of objects breaking. “You bastard!” Chris shouted as he stood up and stalked over to Wyatt.

The older witchlighter was groaning as he attempted to stand up. Chris didn’t give him the chance and another hand wave sent him flying across the room again, into a table that decimated it into splinters. Chris felt some kind of calming presence wash over him but he wouldn’t be stopped. He waved his hand without looking at P.J., hearing her grunt as she was thrown too. His rage was too strong and blinding. “You killed her! You’re the reason she died!” Chris yelled.

Wyatt had managed to stand and stared at his brother in shock. Another swing of Chris’ arm and the shield came up, the magic bouncing off of it with small sparks. “Chris stop!” Wyatt was shouting back at him but Chris wasn’t listening. Trying to force all of his strength into another wall of telekinesis to destroy the shield. Rationally, he knew not much would destroy that shield. Unless Wyatt was distracted or knocked out, it wouldn’t go down. Chris was too weak from sleep deprivation and Grief to even make a dent, but he still tried. All Chris could see was Evil Wyatt, glaring at him while he choked Chris and Bianca was helpless to watch.

Wyatt was shouting at him, but Chris was ignoring it. Nothing registered but Bianca’s dying face, the tears on her cheeks and that small hand pushing their engagement ring into his hand. “We were trying to save you! And you killed her!” Chris shouted, his voice was rough from tears and he went to run at the shield. There had been commotion and shouting at his back, he didn’t care about it, his only goal was to hurt Wyatt. Strong arms wrapped around him and tackled him to the ground.

That Calming feeling was washing over him again but he was fighting it. These arms weren’t his cousins, they were stronger and there was shouting. He bodily struggled, trying to get his arms free while his eyes stayed on Wyatt who dropped the shield and ran towards his brother in a stupid move. Chris struggled harder, if he couldn’t throw his brother back, he’d physically beat him. The arms held him down tighter and a deep voice shouted instructions as Wyatt grabbed onto his shoulders, making Chris shout and twist to try to get them off. He didn’t want his brother touching him. He had to pay for killing Bianca.

“Chris! Chris! Listen to me! It didn’t happen! It wasn’t me!” Wyatt was shouting in his face. “It was a different timeline, I didn’t kill anyone!” Chris stared at his brother’s face, his own tears’ blurring it. “Snap out of it!” Wyatt looked panicked, as if he didn’t know what to do for once in his life.

“Got it!” There was a shout behind him and the arms let go of him and Wyatt scrambled away from him. Chris saw the white lines go up around him and knew they had imprisoned him in the crystal cage. Chris shifted to his knees and turned to finally see who had grabbed him. His uncle Coop was standing there, P.J. wrapped in his arms. She must have called him when he attacked Wyatt. He was the only one who could get there in time and hold Chris tight enough for P.J. to place the crystals around him and stop him from attacking Wyatt.

Chris’ eyes were red and turned the glare on Wyatt again. “You killed her.” He repeated, his voice was so hoarse from shouting he coughed after. Bianca’s name was repeating in his head.

Wyatt shook his head, “I’ve never killed an innocent Chris, you know that. It wasn’t me.” He kneeled on the other side of the cage. “Think, take deep breaths and think. He isn’t me. I’m your brother. I would never hurt someone you care about. I would never hurt you.” Wyatt’s face was full of fear, the same look he had when Chris flinched from him when all this started two months ago. “It wasn’t me.” Wyatt repeated.

Chris shook his head, not taking his eyes off of his brother. He felt exhausted as the rage filtered out of him, some of it having to be P.J.’s influence. He didn’t turn his glare on her though, keeping Wyatt in his sights. He felt so tired, his heart in so much pain as he thought of Bianca’s dying face, the smile she tried to give him, the hope she gave him of a better life once this was all over.

He leaned over on his knees, his hands coming up to the sides of his head as he remembered so many things with her. Their first kiss, hidden in an alcove in the underworld after months of flirting. The first time he saw her kill and he saw how she dealt with it all. The first time they made love in his grandfather’s old apartment that he inherited. The day he asked her to marry him, the day he left her, the day she came to him and stripped his powers, the moment she died….

He cried hard, his voice barely making a sound. He didn’t know how long he sat there on the attic floor, on his knees, the crystal cage around him to keep him from physically attacking anyone else.

He didn’t know when his parent’s arrived but his mother’s voice had him lifting his head, seeing her on the other side of the cage. She kneeled down as close as she could without disrupting it. “Chris?” She called his name.

He finally took a look around the room, P.J. and his uncle Coop were gone, Wyatt sat on the couch, watching him. His dad had moved to stand beside his oldest, his hand on his shoulder.

“Chris what happened?” His mom drew his attention back to her. She looked so worried for him. How worried had he made her in the last two months? How many sleepless nights did she have thinking of what was happening to her youngest son?

Chris’ voice hurt but he managed to answer. “I remembered her.” He said in a hoarse whisper. “Bianca.” His mother’s face changed immediately into sad understanding. She knew what Bianca had meant to him thanks to Phoebe back then. She also knew how Bianca had died.
“Oh peanut…” Piper looked over to her husband and oldest. “You know that wasn’t your brother. That version of him is gone. You made sure he wouldn’t exist.” Her voice was soothing. Chris followed her gaze to Wyatt again, the look of utter pain on his brother’s face. Chris tried to remember who this person was, he wasn’t the evil Wyatt. He was Good. He didn’t kill.

It took him a long moment of staring at Wyatt before he turned back to his mom.

“I know…” He whispered. His mom sighed, “If I let you out, you won’t hurt your brother?” She asked, in the same tone she used when she was about to unground him. Chris nodded. He was trying to think clearly now, sorrow filling him instead of pure grief induced rage.

The cage was deactivated and his mother wrapped her arms around him. Chris hugged back tightly. “Mom.” He cried into her shoulder.

“Shh, it’s okay baby, it’ll be okay.” She rubbed his back and rocked him back and forth. Chris closed his eyes and hid his face in her shoulder. He hadn’t been able to do this when Bianca died and he returned to the past. She hadn’t known yet who he was. That he had lost the second most important person in his life moments before. He was just their neurotic whitelighter who invaded their lives and had been hurt.

Chris was dimly aware of his father and brother talking. He was focused on his mother’s touch but he heard them speaking.

“When I got here, he was muttering the name Bianca over and over again and crying. P.J. had just called me and said he just fell to his knees and started shaking and crying. She tried to say something about his emotions going haywire. I tried to touch him and he jumped away from me and then he threw me! I’ve never had him throw me with that force.” Wyatt was explaining.

“When he came after me, it was like he didn’t recognize me… Like he hated me. He kept throwing me around. P.J. called Uncle Coop. The only thing I could do was throw my shield up and Coop tackled him and we had to hold him to get the crystals down. That’s when I summoned the door.” Chris didn’t know what Leo did and didn’t care, he was feeling so exhausted and the pain in his heart wasn’t letting up.

“Who is Bianca?” Wyatt asked. Chris didn’t blame him for sounding confused, Chris must have looked insane.

“In the old timeline, it was his fiancé. He told us she died, but never how. She must have been killed by that version of… well you.” His father’s voice replied. “I think all of it coming to a head must have thrown him. Let’s go downstairs and talk to your cousin, she can fill us in.”

There were footsteps but his mother didn’t move to join them. She only pulled her head away to look at him and he caught a glimpse of his brother and father leaving. “Better?” She asked softly.

Chris didn’t think he’d ever be better. All of these memories and now the memory of someone he had loved dying before his eyes. He had seen so much death right in front of him.

Chris shook his head in the negative. “She died mom, and it was my fault. I couldn’t save her.” His mom gave him a soft smile. “You did save her Chris. Think. She was alive when we went to look for her 20 years ago. The version you knew may have died, but this timeline’s version. She might still be alive. She might have a completely different life because of you.” Chris frowned in response. Could Bianca still be alive? Here and Now?

“How can you know that?” Chris asked. His mom reached out and squeezed his hand. “I don’t know it but I can hope baby. She could still be alive and happy in this future. All because of you.”

Chris looked back at the book, still open to the page with the Phoenix insignia on it. “Do you think we can find her?”

Chapter Text

Chris sat on the couch in the attic. His form hunched over as he stared at the floor. Wyatt was on babysitting duty, watching his every move after the incident nearly two hours before. He stood behind Chris and while a primal part of him was tense from having a potential enemy at his back. His rational mind knew it was a good place, Wyatt could protect him from threats and easily stop him if he… Became a threat. Melinda had joined them and sat on his right side. It had taken a while for Chris to be able to calm himself down and his parents called a family meeting, his aunts included. And because of that, the rest of his family showed up.

Cousins filled the attic, lingering wherever there was room. On another day this could be an inspiring sight, the Halliwell clan all gathered in one room. Eager to help and banded together for one of their own. But it felt suffocating to Chris as he sat with his head in his hands. He tried to focus on the floor, keeping his face hidden. He concentrated on breathing and staying as calm as he could. At least it was helped with PJ sitting on his other side, giving her subtle influence to keep him as relaxed as possible. Which wasn’t much.

The amount of people was making him anxious. In his head, he knew they cared deeply and the Halliwells had learned the hard way (several times in the past and now) to not keep secrets from the rest of the family. They always came out at the worst time and they made everything harder when they finally had to face them.

Everyone seemed to be muttering to themselves while his mom, aunts and Leo spoke quietly in the corner. The din of the room wasn’t helping his anxiety and he felt a hand rubbing his back. He jumped slightly and turned his head to Melinda. She gave him a shrug and continued to rub his back. Chris was grateful for his little sister. Not just for existing at all, but because she was the only one of his immediate family he didn’t have conflicting memories of. She was just herself and he didn’t have to fight how he felt about her.

Wyatt on the other hand, Chris hadn’t been able to look him directly in the face since he had been released from the cage. He had really been intent on killing his older brother. The best source of Good Magic in the world. The one sibling he felt the closest to. He had given his life for this version of him and he would have choked the life out of him 2 hours prior if they hadn’t stopped him.

He shuddered out a sigh and leaned back into the couch, his head tilting towards his little sister. He tried not to jump as Wyatt’s hand landed on his shoulder. He knew it was in support and he forced himself to reach up and put his hand on top of his older brother’s. Melinda had shifted her hand from his back to his other shoulder when he leaned back.

Chris looked around the room, Coop was standing near the door, probably strategically placed to tackle Chris again if needed. He had no idea his uncle had that much strength, he had definitely underestimated the Cupid. His daughters Parker and Peyton were on PJ’s other side, Peyton sitting on the floor while Parker stood. The three of them grouped together was a normal sight, in fact most of the kids had stuck to their siblings.. Chris supposed that while they were all collected, they did stick to their Three’s…

Tamora and Kat were by the potion table, Henry Jr. and his father were also there, filling up the space. The rest of the Charmed Ones were pacing back and forth behind the Book stand while talking.

It was still a few minutes before Paige put her hands on her hips and shrugged her shoulders. He knew what that meant, they had made a decision and she was still trying to push it a different way.

“So… What are we doing here?” Tamora asked from across the room. She had crossed her arms and was clearly tired of waiting.

Paige shot her a look but Tamora gestured to the room in confusion, clearly she resembled her mother in terms of patience. “You called us all here mom! All you told us was that we had to have a family meeting. But since we all got here, you guys haven’t said anything.”

“We haven’t been told anything since this all started!” Kat complained next to her. “Just that something is happening to our favorite cousin and that the grown-ups have to figure it out! Which is REALLY annoying by the way! We’re twenty years old, not five!”

Henry huffed and shushed his daughters. “You haven’t been demon hunting yet, we don’t want to endanger you. Any of you.” His gaze was shot to every other cousin. Chris knew that look was the same one he used on the young teens he counseled. It was a stern one, full of worry. Of all the husbands, Henry had been the one who had been the most resistant to any of the kids going demon hunting until they were older. Always wanting to keep them safe. Chris admired that about him even if it was futile. They were all witches in some shape or form, trouble would find them.

“But we’re worried about Chris.” Peyton said from beside her older sisters. She was leaned against Parker’s leg and at 16 was the youngest girl in the room. She peered around Parker’s body to look at her older cousin and Chris gave her a soft smile, he wished he wasn’t worrying them so much. His anxiety continued to rise as everyone began to speak, voicing questions and concerns.

A part of him, he didn’t know if it was the dark future part or his own natural introverted self, wanted to leave. Run away so the problems wouldn’t continue to affect his family. He knew he needed help, but everyone around him set some warning bells in his brain, this wasn’t their problem and he could take care of it on his own. Wyatt’s hand on his shoulder kept reminding him that he really couldn’t though.

“Listen, we need to figure out a plan, today was something we cannot repeat.” PJ sighed from beside him. “Whatever is happening is getting more dangerous.” Chris flinched at that. He had never thought of himself as dangerous before. Not to humans or innocents. Even from the previous timeline. He knew he had skills but he didn’t consider himself a danger to someone… That had always been Wyatt.

The Charmed Ones were silent for a moment, looking at their various families.

“I know PJ.” Phoebe said as she looked at her daughter. “We’re discussing it.”

“Why not discuss it with US!” Melinda said, finally getting frustrated. Chris felt her squeeze his shoulder before she stood up and looked around the room. “This isn’t just an issue for you to solve! Me and Wyatt had been working on this too but you aren’t listening. We ALL could contribute something.” She gestured to the room. “We may be young but this is a family issue that we all should know about.”

The rest of his cousins were nodding to her words. Chris glanced at his brother and Wyatt had a determined look on his face. Chris also saw a hint of a smile, a little like a look of pride. While they were the oldest by far, Melinda certainly knew how to take charge. Chris wondered if she got it from their mom or from her namesake…

“Melly, calm down. Let’s just start from the beginning.” Leo said with a sigh. “This is something we’ve tried to keep from all of you because it could have changed the future we all live in. We were trying to protect you all and it looks like it didn’t work as well as we wanted.” He took a few steps forward and Chris zoned out as his father, mother and aunts relayed his story from the past all over again. How many times could they repeat the same story?

He instead focused on Wyatt, feeling his hand tighten slightly as they mentioned his evil version and the amount of heads that snapped to him. Chris wondered what his brother was feeling, shame? Embarrassment? Melinda had sat down again and was holding Chris’ hand through it. She was his anchor, focusing on her smaller hand in his and staring down at the floor, trying to ignore the looks that felt like they were piercing through him. The only brightside to this was for the first time in nearly a week, his head didn’t hurt.

Chris only tuned back into the conversation when they spoke about Bianca. He still had so many memories to sort through. Every mention of her name had him remembering something more. Her smile, her scowl, her laugh and her screaming in anger. He had memories of holding her close in a hug, in bed, in her dying moments. It was so confusing and he squeezed his brother’s hand. He wished someone could just reach in his head, pull the memories out and straighten them so he could just understand them.

“We think this might be related to Bianca.” PJ was the one who spoke from beside him. “Earlier today, we were working on his memories,” Phoebe cleared her throat, clearly in disapproval and PJ sighed, “We were trying to help him sleep. Anyways we thought maybe with what he was remembering, if there is a threat to Bianca, maybe that’s why he has these memories now. Maybe she’s an innocent we have to save?”

“I don’t think that’s it. Bianca can’t be an innocent.” Paige said. “She’s part of an assassin witch coven. She may be after an innocent though.”

Chris felt himself get angry, there was so much judgment there. They didn’t know her. They didn’t know how she dealt with the guilt of killing and being forced to kill. She hadn’t been able to choose, she wouldn’t have done it if she could have avoided it! “You’re wrong.” His voice was rough from emotion, sounding dark, and Wyatt’s hand on his shoulder tightened. “She never wanted to kill, she was forced into it, she didn’t want that life.”

Everyone stared at him but he continued to glare at his aunt. Phoebe stepped forward, “Chris, that was before, what if she’s different now?”

“She wouldn’t be any different with this, I know she couldn’t have grown up to like being a killer. You didn’t know her.” He was adamant and would have stood up had Wyatt not kept him pulled back. He started to feel trapped and while rationally he knew that was the idea, it began to itch under his skin.

“Calm down Chris.” His dad said. He was definitely starting to watch Chris carefully. The idea of being observed, JUDGED by Leo of all people was really grating on him and Chris wanted to fidget, squeezing his sister's hand as his other hand dropped from Wyatt and made a fist on his leg. If he didn’t have some old instinct to hold still, his leg would be bouncing.

“Why don’t we just find her first?” PJ said from beside him, shocking him out of his own thoughts, “Talk to her, not be a threat but find out what’s going on. She won’t know any of us, if we don’t threaten her then she shouldn’t attack right? Maybe we can help her?”

The Charmed Ones looked at each other. Paige sighed, “We don’t know if we can find her. The last time we tried, in the past, we found her mother instead and she’ll definitely remember us.”

Chris hadn’t known that. Bianca had never said where she had gotten her grimoire from at the time. He hasn’t questioned her and after her death, he asked for the sisters not to talk about her. He wondered if Lynn were still alive. In his future, she hadn’t been. Killed on an assignment when Bianca was 16. It had been one of the deciding factors in Bianca hating her heritage but also following it to survive.

Chris was lost in his own thoughts, lifting his head when he heard Tamora speak, “Can we scry her?”

“We don’t have anything of hers. Last time was luck.” Paige told her daughter.

“Why not just look her up?” Peyton said from the floor. Everyone’s head turned towards the youngest girl. “I mean, you have her last name, you know her age, that she at one point lived in San Francisco. You know her mothers name and if you guys remember it, one of her previous addresses. Uncle Henry is a cop, he has access to public records and could just look her up that way. Bonus if she had ever managed to be arrested.”

There was silence in the room, Chris looked from face to face. His parents and aunts seemed shocked. Coop, who had been silent in his vigil next to the door, had a small smile on his face. Henry was slowly echoing that smile. “Family full of magic and we forget that old fashioned detective work and technology is still a thing.” He said.

“So once we find her, what are we going to do? Have 15 people show up at her doorstep and ask if she’s in trouble?” Tamora asked as she crossed her arms.

“We are a bit much, all together.” Kat echoed her movement. “Should Chris be the one to talk to her? Or would she remember one of you guys?” She asked their mom.

Paige and Piper seemed to think on it. “She only saw us for a second I think. And even then she was only a kid... I’d be more worried about her mom, she’d definitely remember.” Paige said.

“What if I go? She never saw me, neither of them did.” Phoebe offered.

“How about none of you go?” Melinda said as she rolled her eyes. “Were you not listening? We can handle this, plus she’d probably be more likely to talk to someone near her own age than you guys.” Melinda winced at the look her mother gave her. “No offense mom.”

“Offense definitely taken.” Piper muttered.

“The closest one in age to her is Wyatt anyways.” Chris mumbled and that thought didn’t really sit right with him. Less so because of his conflicting feelings with the two Wyatt’s in his head and a little more because he didn’t want his older brother to meet someone who was once his fiancé and possibly charm her. It was an odd thought that randomly struck him. Something that was so normal, possibly the closest thing to normal for him in the past two months.

They continued to talk about the plan but Chris was really starting to itch. He had stopped squeezing Melly’s hand, trying not to hurt her but he really needed to move and Wyatt was keeping him pinned. He looked up at his brother and he was listening to everyone, not looking at Chris.

He looked back at Melly and she was talking but he wasn’t listening, his anxiety getting worse the longer he was sat there. “Wyatt, let go.” He said, grabbing at his brother's wrist to get his attention, he hadn’t been loud and it wasn’t a fast movement but every head in the room turned to him at once and he felt that itch get worse.

“I need to move.” Wyatt watched him for a second too long before letting go of his shoulder and allowing Chris to shift forward and stand up. He was feeling that calming presence again and wondered if P.J. was getting tired. He waved her off but the feeling didn’t go away.

“Chris?” His dads voice had him looking towards his parents and his aunts. They all looked worried and somehow he knew that Coop took a step forward from the attic doorway without looking at him. “I’m fine, I just needed to move.” He said quickly. He really just needed to pace, or to find a dark corner and orb out of there, which he knew they wouldn’t let him do.

“What do you think we should do? Bianca was important to you.” His dad spoke again.

“Is. She is important to me.” Chris corrected. His mom looked like she wanted to say something but Chris cut her off. “I know she won’t know me and won’t know what we went through but she’s still important to me. If she’s in danger, then we need to help her.”

“And if she IS the danger?” Paige asked. Chris took a deep breath at what that might mean. Could he allow them to stop her? Could he face her and possibly kill her to save someone? In his heart, he knew he couldn’t. His duty to Good Magic and saving innocents and serving the magical community weighed on him suddenly but he didn’t show it. If it became between Bianca and his duty? He didn’t think he could choose the latter

He hated the way he had to lie to his aunt. Looking her in the eyes and standing straight when all he wanted to do was walk away and hide. He wondered if after all these years, if the Charmed Ones could tell he was lying.

“I’ll stop her.”

Chapter Text

Really, these honeypot jobs were some of the most annoying. Bianca rolled her eyes as she looked herself over in the full length mirror at her home. A tight black corset, lace detailing and a red leather mini skirt that was higher than she felt comfortable with. Black stiletto boots and a red leather jacket to finish the look, her favorite in fact. Underneath, she had her tattoo covered by a fashionable red wristband, lacy and extending from her fingers to her elbow, the red hiding the detail of her red birthmark.

She looked like… A hooker. At least the first part of the plan was accomplished, though she felt more exposed than she wanted and she couldn’t hide her athame anywhere easy to reach. She would have to resort to summoning it and that was always an inconvenience, preferring to just carry it. Bianca finished her makeup, reapplying her lip gloss until her lips were shiny and eye-catching.

Her job was simple, a demon overlord was becoming troubling and another clan had paid her to assassinate him. But covertly, no connection to the employers. The demon liked to party and Bianca fit right in with this outfit, hiding in plain sight among the ravers at some popular club in Los Angeles. Sure it was damn far from her home in San Francisco but it was good money and a favor owed to her when it was all finished. That in itself was enough payment, something she could call in any time.

Bianca gave herself another look in the mirror, reaching a manicured hand up and rubbing at her temples. Her headaches had been getting worse. Sure, she had no real sleep schedule and her diet was shit, but she didn’t think that was the cause of them. They had appeared out of nowhere one day about 2 months back and hadn’t stopped. Bianca hadn’t gone to a doctor, simply out of sheer stubbornness. Besides, what did you tell a human doctor? ‘Hi, I’m a witch, so I can shimmer and return from the dead and throw energy balls, blah, blah, etc. But I have a headache?’

She could go to a healer, there were a few demons who owed her favors, or atleast could pay for it. But that was admitting a weakness and she didn’t need that. Business was good and she didn’t need word getting around that a rising assassin in the Underworld had a weakness.

She looked at herself one more time, turning to look at her back, the skirt rode up in the back and showed off the bottom of her ass. She was sure she’d get a few handsy humans tonight, and she couldn’t wait to break fingers. Letting off some steam with a little pain to others.

It was a quick blink to shimmer to the club. She had checked it out a week ago to get the general location and find her entry point. She chose the handicapped stall of the women’s bathroom and waited until she heard a toilet flush before she did the same and walked out confidently.

The humans paid her no mind, mortals never questioned much when they were drunk or high, it always made things easier. The music was loud even in the bathroom, pulsing the walls and she suspected the walls were meant to be soundproof. That seemed to have failed.

Bianca bypassed the few women fixing their hair or face and the one clearly doing a line on the bathroom sink and walked out from the brightly lit bathroom into the dark club. The music was much louder, slamming into her ear drums like a force and her headache pounded harder in retaliation. She frowned but tried to ignore it as she searched for her prey. There were hundreds of people, mainly humans. But there were a few demons mixed in, maybe even a few of dark witches and warlocks. It was harder to tell them apart, but they often carried themselves a different way. Or had different colored irises in the case of some demons…

She found him, seated in the back in a booth, one floozy already on his lap. While Bianca had never really cared about how she compared to other women (she knew she was pretty, she had her fathers coloring but her mothers beauty) she was happy to note that the girl wasn’t prettier than her, she could easily draw the demon away then. She also noted that the girl was wearing more and looked to be about 15 years old…

Bianca didn’t look for moral reasons to take on her kills, but it helped her feel better sometimes when she could destroy someone so vile.

She confidently sauntered up to his table, feeling a few fingers reaching for her hips and shoulders on her way across the dance floor. She brushed them all off. Adding an extra sway to her hips and a seductive smile to her lips when she caught the demon watching her. She was almost to the table when a hand confidently grabbed her asscheek. She whirled around and grabbed the hand, twisting it until she heard at least one crack and the, not too surprisingly, warlock howled with pain and blinked away.

She turned back and the demon was grinning, his teeth were uneven but at least white, she had expected them to be rotting out of his head. She didn’t think about the fact she may have to kiss him to distract him sometime that night. She just continued walking towards him. She was stopped by another demon, sitting at the edge of the booth. He had stood up when she approached and blocked her way. He looked her up and down and she knew he was considering if she was worth the murder and disposal.

She kept her eyes on her prey. “Do you wanna dance with a real woman baby?” She asked him, her voice low despite the volume of the club.

He was smirking and he leaned forward, dislodging the teen in his lap. She squealed as she fell back onto the couch. He ignored her. “Take off your jacket sugar, it’s hot in here.” Even his voice was gross. Bianca wished she had asked for a better payment.

“Don’t call me sugar baby, I’m not that sweet.” She licked her lips and smiled. “Why don’t you be a gentleman and come help me take it off? Unless you want him to do it?” She gestured to the demon keeping her away.

He seemed to think and then grabbed the teen beside him, using his grip on her upper arm to haul her from the couch and shove her to the floor, “Scram brat!” The girl looked like she would cry and Bianca felt sorry for her. She needed to go home and get a better set of friends.

“Let that fine piece of ass through.” Well now she was going to make sure his death hurt. She smirked at the guard and walked past him. Her prey stood up and offered her the couch, she turned and let him slide her leather jacket off her shoulders. His touch lingering in a slimey way that begged for a shower. She held back from rolling her eyes and breaking his fingers as well when those hands threw her jacket on the couch and then slid down her back to her ass, grabbing it with both hands.

She turned and shook her finger at him. “Not yet baby…” she purred, “I want to dance first.” She wanted to pull him somewhere more private but he shook his head and sat down, grabbing her wrist and pulling her down across his lap. She let out a grunt and wished she could dig her athame into his gut. “How about what I want, sugar? Let’s have a taste and see if you’re really not sweet?”

She would have to do it, she’d have to kiss him. She hoped she had mouthwash at home as she smirked at him and shifted to straddle his lap. “Whatever you say daddy.” She would need to wash her mouth out after that sentence.

She grabbed the back of his head, thankfully he had hair and kissed him hard, he didn’t know how to kiss at all, tongue and lips out of coordination with her own. How did demons even procreate if they were all so bad at sex?

She took control of the kiss as soon as she could and bit his bottom lip hard, pulling away with a wide grin and a laugh when he sputtered in pain. “Told you baby, I’m not sweet.” He growled at her and leaned forward but she stopped him with a finger to his lips. “If you want more, let’s go somewhere else… alone.”

His grin was practically feral as he leered up at her. “Why not have some more right here gorgeous?” His hands slipped down onto her ass and slapped hard on her right side. He laughed as she shifted and she yelped. Bianca would never admit that she had ever made a sound. The cronies around him laughed as well and Bianca was growing more and more annoyed. His hand went to move below the skirt and she was done playing. He wasn’t getting the hint and she was tired of trying to coax him already. Her headache was getting worse.

He screamed as she sunk her athame into his arm and yanked it back but she held firm. Her other arm pushed out towards the guards as they came running, energy balls flying from her palms to hit them in the chest. She vanquished one easily, the other dodging and coming for her again. She yanked her athame out of the demon’s arm and threw it with accuracy at his chest. It hit perfectly and he died in a fiery yell. No one outside of the VIP area noticed.

She was turned too long and suddenly a hand was around her neck, squeezing harshly. She gasped and instinctively grabbed at his wrist. He was cursing her, screaming in her face, spittle flying. She was sure she heard ‘bitch’ and ‘whore’ a few times as her senses started to dim.

Bianca was trained for this but it wasn’t ever a pleasant situation as she died. It was like she was floating above herself as she went limp and pale. Air cut off and her heart ceasing to beat.

She didn’t feel it as he dropped her and her body was absorbed into flames. She saw him shove her body off of him and he shimmered away. She felt herself floating upwards and she shut her eyes. As the world turned dark, she gasped awake.

She was sat in her circle, drawn in paint on the concrete floor of her basement. She sputtered for breath and heaved forward, feeling air rush into her newly born lungs and her body shuddering as she acclimated to having brand new skin. Her neck didn’t show any marks, she knew this and yet, she clutched at it in remembrance.

It took minutes for her to relax and regulate her breaths. She hated dying, no matter how many times it happened and she was reborn again in fire. It always hurt and was always disorienting.

Bianca sighed and slowly stood up, unlacing the ugly corset and tugging it off harshly, tossing it on the floor. She was happy to get rid of it. She was thankful her laundry was down here and was able to grab one of her night shirts from the dryer, pulling on the comfortable fabric and tossing off everything else until she was bare underneath.

She had lost her mark and her bounty.

And her favorite red jacket!

What was worse was he knew her face now. Bianca growled at herself as she ascended the stairs to her first floor. She kept the lights off, the world outside was dark, though never silent in the big city. She knew the way to her bedroom, easily traversing the dark house to the second floor and to her bed, flopping face first amongst the unmade bed.

Her body was always drained after a resurrection and this was no different. Her headache hadn’t dissipated, instead, it bloomed further from behind her eyes, up over the top of her skull to the base, throbbing with each beat of her new heart.

How was she going to kill him now? She needed the money and she needed the favor. That could save her in the future, who knew when she would need it. The only good news was that the demon had no idea why she had tried to kill him. She never gave a name and she had made sure her tattoo was covered cleanly. He would have no idea if she was an assassin for just an incredibly pissed off warlock or witch.

She curled her body up into the nest of blankets and kept her eyes closed, praying the next morning would bring a new opportunity.