Gah. I needed to write. But, since I'm in major writers block for all my other stories… I'm going to make this little one-shot that could eventually turn into something bigger if I get a lot of people that like it! I've never even tried a Sonny with a Chance fanfic, but the ones that I've read I've liked, so I'm going to try and do it! Just go ahead and let me know if I should stick to Max Ride and Twilight, it wouldn't hurt my feelings. I've never really read a story that goes deep into the past of… you guessed it… CDC! I mean… why is he like that? Did something happen to him in the past? Well… here is a little thought on what I think happened when he was little.

Chad/Dylan's POV

Bang!

My world shattered at that sound. Even though I was eight and didn't know what was going on, I had watched enough cowboy movies with my father to know what that noise was. Tears welled up in my eyes as the room around me started to blur. Screaming penetrated the buzzing that I hadn't noticed filling my ears. That scream was recognizable to me as my mothers, and a tear cascaded down my cheek.

I resisted the urge to climb out of this "safe hole", as my father used to call it. But, they, my parents, had made it quite clear that I was to only get out of the hole if they told me that it was okay too.

Even though I was scared and helpless, only being nine years old, I tried to be brave, for my parents if not for anything else.

Another scream was heard and I cradled my knees to my chest and rested my chin on my thighs, holding back a scream of my own. I remembered back to the words that my father had told me mere hours ago. "Be strong, Dylan. Do it for me. Do it for your mother!"

I hadn't understood him then, and I still don't understand what is happening, or why people were after my parents. Of course they were pretty famous, with my dad being a producer and a script writer, and my mom being a model and a singer. They were the strong ones. Holding me when I was scared of monsters in my closet. They were the strong ones, always facing the media without being afraid of what the tabloids were saying about them.

I couldn't do this. I just couldn't mentally do this. Who knew what was going on down there?

Tears fell rapidly from my cheeks and I held in the loud sobs that were threatening to burst out of my mouth at any second. Biting my cheek, I looked around, wanting to distract myself from the fact that there hadn't been any noise downstairs for a while.

The wallpaper was decorated with small, elaborate squares and I started to count them.

Time went slowly.

56… 57…

Bang! Bang Bang!!

I nearly shouted in surprise at the sudden sound that came bursting through the air. Forgetting the tiles, I made my way over to the one-way mirror that was positioned on the floor a couple feet away from me. Breathing slowly, I closed my eyes and put my head over the mirror, looking down.

Without breathing, I opened my eyes slowly and saw something that made my heart literally stop. My dad was lying on the floor. Bleeding.

There was a strong, burly looking man standing over him with a gun. Thinking the worst, tears fell quickly off of my nose, clouding my vision. I could barely see it when my dad made the slightest movement.

Forgetting that he was gravely injured, my mindset took a completely different direction and the gears turned extremely fast, trying to make me memorize every feature of the man's face as he looked towards the ceiling in frustration.

Finally ready to hear what they were saying, I pressed the little red button that let noise flow through the vent a couple feet away.

"Where is the brat! He's who I came for! If you don't tell me where he is I swear…" he let off, pointing the gun between my father's eyes.

"I told you," I barely made out my father saying, "I'm not going to give him up to you. This stupid rivalry is nothing! Nothing! Dylan did nothing!"

"Nothing!" The other man roared. "Nothing! HOW could you even say that he did nothing! He ruined the love between Clara and I! He was born! So she stayed with you! It's all his fault! If she wouldn't have had Dylan," he spit out my name in a voice of such detestation that I had to scurry back from him, thinking that he was going to harm me, even though he had no idea I was up here.

"Leave him alone, Sam, please!" I heard my mother plead, getting close enough to my father that I could see her, all bruised up and bleeding.

"NO! After all that pain! Dylan didn't want me as a father! You said that he didn't like me enough! And after consideration, you took a paternity test! That damn kid had to be his! I loved you! I gave you everything you wanted! But no! You had to go back to Mr. Hollywood here, and give up everything for that kid!" He stopped screaming and cocked the gun.

"This is where it ends for him." The last thing I heard was my mother crying into my father's shoulder. Before I pulled away, I saw the man kick my mother out of the way so that she wouldn't put herself in between him and my father. I reached shakily over to the button and clicked it, not wanting to hear the full effect of the gunshot as it took the last breath from my father.

What was wrong with me? I hadn't done anything wrong.

Yet it was all my fault.

My dad was dead because of me. Because I was born.

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After what seemed like a lifetime, I calmed myself down enough to get out of the fetal position that I had put myself in for the past 5 hours. Knowing that I would probably find the worst, I crawled back over to the one-way mirror.

Closing my eyes, I leaned over it like I had done before and slowly opened my eyes after I was positioned above it.

I gasped quickly.

Nothing was there. There was no bloodstain, no gunman, no father, and certainly no mother. The floor was squeaky clean and there was no sign that there had been a murder and a beating there only hours before.

Quickly noticing that there was absolutely nothing down there, I wanted to run down and see if it had all been a joke. Some sort of project that my father had brought home so that he could show the actors that he was working with. I chuckled, thinking in my mind that it had been all an act. There was no doubt in my mind that that had been what had happened. I laughed it off, knowing that I was overreacting.

My dad probably didn't want me to annoy him so he told me to go up in the safe room and stay there until he came up after he was done. Even though I started to think that it had been all a joke, there was something that was nagging me, and that was why I hadn't ever seen the "hitman" before. When my dad brought his work home, he usually used the same guy, Lukas Brawtling.

Pulling out the phone that my parents handed me before shoving me up in this room, I dialed my mother's number and let it ring.

And ring.

And ring.

Until finally, after it had rung ten times, a person picked up, but I could tell immediately that it wasn't my mother, seeing as they were breathing hard, and it definitely wasn't a female voice.

"Who is this?" I recognized the rough voice as the person from earlier and my heart stopped in my throat.

"My name is Dylan… can you tell me where my mom is?" I asked innocently, still thinking that the man I was talking to was a new actor that my dad had been working with.

"She's sitting here unconscious. I raped her and beat her after I killed your biological father with three gunshots to the head." He said calmly, as if it was something that he did everyday.

"Oh, are you from my father's new movie that he's directing?" I questioned, trying to remain as calm as I could, keeping a tight hold on the small hope that he was only involved in the movie, and not involved in the horrific activities I had imagined earlier.

"Now listen, brat, your father is dead, and your mother is out cold. Now, I'm going to leave for now and call it a day, but you can be damn sure that I'll be back. Maybe not this week, maybe not even this year, but I'm going to be back and get revenge on you, I promise." He stopped, his voice reaching near hysteria.

My heart had officially stopped by this time, and I just hung up, glad that the phone that I had called from had a disposable number. I placed it on the floor and took the chair from in the corner and smashed it, not wasting anytime to make sure that I had kept anything intact.

My brain started to shoot out rapid fire directions, involving going down and finding my mother and saving her. That idea stayed in my mind and I waited only about a half an hour to make sure that that Sam guy was actually gone.

I shot down the small stairs that led up to the safe room and started to survey every room in the whole house, stopping when I came to the kitchen. I saw my mother on the floor surrounded in a puddle of blood. It didn't look like she was breathing until I got extremely close.

Grabbing the kitchen phone, I felt for my mother's pulse while dialing 911.

"Hello?" I heard a voice from the other side crackle through the bad reception.

"Hi, my name is Dylan Fisher, and my dad was just m-murdered, and my m-mom is b-barely breathing. P-please come quickly." I stuttered, barely recognizing the words flowing through my mouth.

"Ok, Mr. Fisher, the ambulance is on their way. May I ask where you live and how old you are?" The lady asked, seemingly sympathetic.

I gave her my address and age, and she asked me to stay on the line, probably making sure that I didn't go into shock. I had to explain everything about what had happened to her, so she would be able to help me the most.

Everything was a blur after that. The ambulance arrived, took my mom away on a stretcher, and a whole bunch of police arrived to start asking me questions. Too tired to do anything, I just collapsed, not knowing how to handle this much stress.

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"Dyllykins?" I heard my mom's weak voice ask.

"Yeah mom?" I asked automatically, hoping that it wasn't a dream and that she was okay.

"We need to go." She stated quickly.

Sitting up, I noticed that I was sitting in the backseat of her limo. She was covered in cuts and bruises and the bags underneath her eyes were so noticeable that it looked like she had black eyes. "We're leaving our house, and I'm going to change everything about myself." She stated just as quickly.

"You are no longer Dylan." She continued. "You can never remember what happened last night." She urged. "You're name is Chad now. Chad Dylan Cooper."

"Cooper? Isn't that Auntie Sarah's last name?" I questioned.

"Yes, she's letting us use it for now." My mom said blankly.

"What's going on mom?" I asked, finally showing how scared I really was.

"There's a man that's after you, Dylly, and we have to get away from him, because he will in fact kill you. I'm not going to sugarcoat it and say that he'll do something bad to you. He will kill you without even blinking an eye." She looked me straight in the eye, and I finally noticed how important it was that I stay away from this man.

"Okay mom."

"Now, we're going to have to dye your beautiful black hair, and get you some colored contacts." She said, looking me over.

"But why?" I asked, immediately raising my hand to protect my ink black hair and green eyes. "Can't I just get a wig?" I pleaded.

My mom looked me in the eyes but her gaze made it up to my hair. "Yes, for now." She sighed.

That was one of the many changes that I went through. I was forced to change my eyes to an icy blue, my wig was a light blond color, and my wardrobe was change from torn, overlarge shirts to expensive designers and nice pants. There was nothing about me that was the same, except for the basic features.

We moved into a big mansion and used the money from my dad's insurance to completely erase the Fisher's from everybody's memory. My mom, to stay out of the spotlight and become recognized, started to work in the movie editing and the script writings, seeing as there was nothing to get her pictures out there if she was a lowly editor or screenwriter.

I became involved in acting, hoping to get my "name" Chad Dylan Cooper, out there, in order for Dylan Fisher to become a thing of the past.

Even though I was living a new life, the memory of my father still haunts me and so does the thought that the mysterious Sam guy was still out there and sought to kill me.

Shortly after we got settled into our new home, only about two months after the incident, my mother found out that she was pregnant. There was only one person that she could be pregnant from, and she immediately went insane. My father had had a vasectomy after I was born.

Helping her live through the pregnancy was one of the worst experiences of my life. I would come in, only to see her with a knife to her arms, blood on the floor. It got so bad in the fifth month of her pregnancy that she was rushed to the hospital after stabbing her stomach.

To keep her out of the mental ward, I claimed that we had had a knife rack and she had tripped. She lost the baby.

After killing the baby, however sick it may sound, she began to cheer up slightly, and became the mother that I knew and loved, though still slightly depressed.

The young, caring, free, smiley Dylan was transformed into the cold, heartless, and distant Chad Dylan Cooper. But, whenever I was around someone that I cared for the most, I would turn into just Chad. The caring, selfless, and shy person that I wished I could be all the time, if it weren't for Hollywood trying to portray me as the "bad boy."

As the memory of my father started coming back bit by bit while I was acting, I learned to surpress Chad, and only care for my mom and I.

I never wanted to let someone in ever again.

That is, until one perky brunette came along and changed the way I look at things.

Holy moly people! Hit or miss? I need to know if people want me to continue, so if I get at least 4 people who want me to continue, then I will :P. Anyway… this story kinda lets me get out my sad side, because most of my other stories are happier. Again… this is my first SWAC fanfic, and plllleeeaassee don't tell me how OOC he is, because he is kind of different in this fic than he probably is meant to be in real life. I might make this a chap fic. Don't know anymore.

~Del3195