Disclaimer: not mine

A/N: One shot. Take it as you will.

The Letter

It was funny, the more he thought about it the funnier it got. He could almost fall from the spot he was sitting at to the ground and roll from laughing so hard. Yet, it was all ironic. This letter was addressed to him yet it didn't really belonged to him. He had read it and he could almost touch the person who wrote it to him. He could smell him, he swore he could almost taste him, and yet this person was dead. If death even applied to this person, as he was just a phantom in their memories. Barely a whisper, they had been caressed by the feather touch of his existence.

He felt nostalgia sweep over him and found himself feeling jealousy towards this person's Wyatt. Their closeness was something that he had never found with his own little brother. The devotion they might have felt was not something he shared with his younger brother. But in some other time, a darker time, he and his little brother did everything to stay together. The love was beyond the bonds of brotherly love and its intimacy beyond that of lovers, it had been pure. He could tell that they would have rather die than watch the other one hurt, or watch them suffer. They would rather betray each other in order to bring peace back into their souls.

He could just tell by the first word of the letter.

Wyatt,

And with just that he could tell. His handwriting wasn't perfect, as a matter in fact it was kind of sloppy and a little bit neurotic, yet simple and easy to read. He had been staring at his name for a while and studied how he curved the 'W', to the extra loop he did with the 'y', the smaller 'a' and the double 't'-s.

He didn't know how long he had been reading the letter he found on the wall paper to his room. He had been remodeling the old Charmed manor and here he had found it in the canvas of his wall. Twenty-four-years had passed since this letter had been there. Twenty-four years without him knowing of its existence and once again he was reminded at the impossibility of him ever actually touching him.

Are you well? Did I succeed? Did I bring peace to your soul? I'm sorry.

I didn't mean to betray you like that. I'm sorry to have hurt you, but I had to do it. If you were to once again rise as the ruler of the world I would follow you but not because some demon or being that turned you, but because you chose to. I'm sorry you couldn't understand that. You were dying Wyatt, right in front of my eyes. Dying from the inside, killing the essence that made you, and I couldn't do anything about it. I had to save you. You would have done the same for me. I know it.

My brother, my beloved brother if I could only show you the secrets of my heart. If I could only show you the inside of my being, no two other souls would ever be like ours. No two brothers would ever be as close. My love for you runs so deep that I would do anything for you. Rise my brother, rise and I'll follow and support you.

Wyatt read that again and again. He closed the letter and put it between the folds of his jacket and kept the letter close to his heart. He went down the stairs and saw his little brother laughing with some of his friends and younger cousins.

He stared somewhat hopping that their relationship could be mended with Wyatt just being there. His hopes were crushed when Chris turned to face him.

"What do you want?" he asked coolly.

He didn't say anything but sighed sadly and walked past Chris and the others to the kitchen. He had walked to the sink and had grabbed a clean glass. He poured water in it, took one gulp and threw the water away. By putting the glass inside the sink he sighed heavily before gripping the edges of the sink as he looked down with his mind engross with the other Chris and Wyatt. The two lost brothers. He hadn't noticed that Chris had followed him into the kitchen and that he had been watching him.

"What do you want?" He heard his little brother ask again.

Wyatt quickly spun around catching his large emerald eyes into his light blue ones.

"For how long are your friends staying?" Wyatt asked.

"This is my house too," Chris argued crossing his arms over his chest, "they can stay here as long as I want them to."

"Are they going to help with the remodeling?" Wyatt asked.

"You're the one who wants to remodel the place," Chris bit angrily; "you do it alone."

"What do you want?" Wyatt asked tiredly.

"I don't want anything." Chris said, "anything that comes from you that is."

"Why did you follow me into the kitchen?" Wyatt asked more directly.

"I wanted to know what you wanted," Chris said, "You were looking at me."

"I don't want anything." Wyatt said, "so bye, I have things to do."

He began to move around the kitchen to make something to eat.

"Yes like ruining my house." Chris spat angrily.

"Go away," Wyatt looked up from the vegetables he was cutting, so very tired.

"What are you going to do?" Chris asked nastily.

Wyatt stared at him. He put down the knife walked to the sink and washed his hands. He dried them and walked past Chris. He noticed that Chris's friends and his cousins were still in the living room but they all looked up at him with half amusement, curiosity, and a mixture of negative looks, all influenced by Chris. He went to his room, grabbed some personal belongings and put them all in a bag. He grabbed spare clothes and grabbed some important documents. He made sure he had the letter before he secured his bag over his shoulder. He started his way downstairs and heard Chris and the rest laughing about something. He didn't linger as he grabbed the keys to his car.

He heard his brother stop laughing but Wyatt didn't miss a step. He opened the trunk of the old 2003 Chevrolet Corvette that had belonged to his father and went around to the driver's seat. He saw with the corner of his eye that Chris and the rest of the gang were starting to gather around the entrance of the house. Wyatt didn't stop to look at them as he put the old car into reverse and once he was on the street he changed the gear to drive.

He heard his name but it didn't face him. He saw from his rearview mirror that Chris was running behind the car crying out his name but Wyatt didn't stop. He had finally given Chris what he wanted ever since their father's death that he blamed on Wyatt. He had finally done what no other Halliwell had been able to do. Turn his back on the innocents, turn his back on the greater forces, and turn his back on his family.

He finally turned around the corner and saw the last glimpse of Chris in the middle of the street huffing and tired.

The end