Hello again, wasn't gone as long this time but the chapter is a little bit shorter mainly because this chapter gives a little bit of a back storyfor Chris and the led in to Legend of the Sleepy Halliwell's main story arc. I got a lot of positive feedback for the last chapter, so thanks for all the people who reviewed and gave me little bits of advice to make the reading of this story more easy.

Warning for this chapter, seem to need to do this now for this story more often now for some reason, it contains , I guess a graphic depiction of a main character death in Charmed. Some people might have an inkling of who this might be but I thought I should let you all know. If any of you who don't wish to read it, it's better to skip this chapter and PM me for the jest of what happened.

Thanks for all the support for this story, it is amazing when I get reviews from you guys and truly inspires me to continue this story, so I just want to thank you all for it.

Chris could never fall asleep by himself, having to rely on sleeping draught more than often. Nathan had taken to sitting not too far from the bed, watching as Chris's eye lids slowly drooped close before he finally allowed himself to succumb to his own slumber, having not slept properly for nearly a week now.

The party had been…alright. Not that his family hadn't tried to make it perfect for him, just like they did every year, it's just that Chris thought he would make it this year. He had promised to. Just like he promised every year, yet his dad failed to keep it every year. Chris knew he shouldn't expect anything from his father anymore, it only led him to being hurt every time he was let down but he still held out hope that at least once his dad would surprise him.

The house had slowly started to quieten as the night drew on and Chris had not caught a wink of sleep yet. Maybe he hoped that his dad would still show up, surprising him. So when he heard a slight thud coming from the attic, he leapt out of bed. Thinking, hoping, that his dad had finally come. However, as Chris had crept up the stairs towards the attic, it didn't sound like his dad, in fact he didn't hear anything. The door was left slightly ajar as he walked towards it, his hand reaching up to slowly push it open.

He nearly fell to the ground in that moment, as his eyes analysed the scene before him. So much blood, yet he couldn't understand where it had all come from until the hooded figure stood aside and that was the moment Chris fell.

"Sorry, kid," The hooded man said, shimmering from the scene, although Chris didn't even register it as he scrambled across the room to where she laid, lifeless and unmoving.

His hand lifted up to shakenly brush over her face, his other hand gripping her shoulder tightly as he began to shake her, "M-Mum? Mum!" His eyes widen as he looked up his hands, blood glittering back at him, black in the darkness. Her neck… from ear to ear. How hadn't he seen it before? It gaped open tauntingly at him now that he noticed it, making it all the more horrific. He looked up at the ceiling, he knew that he could help, he had to, "Dad! Dad, please help! God, somebody please help us!" He started to tremble, as he realized… oh god she was… his mum was dead. He looked down at her face, drops of water splashing her cheeks, which seemed strange to him, he'd only realize later that he had been crying, crying as he called for help, crying as he wiped the specks of blood from her face. Wyatt, had left for a friends. Aunt Paige and Phoebe were out for the night and he couldn't let Matthew or Melinda see, they could never see this.

Chris remained in the same state for most of the night, cradling his mother in his arms as he held her hand, squeezing it ever now and then, maybe hoping that she would somehow squeeze back. He had given up halfway through the night, his throat raw from calling out, although he was carefully not to scream. He feared Melinda and Matthew walking in and seeing… He knew deep down that even if Da-Leo did come down, there was nothing he could actually do now. She was cold. Unmoving, her face gone pale and her lips tinted blue. It was as though it wasn't her anymore, her hair once brown and long seemed to shrivel and crack as the blood had coated it. And he couldn't let his siblings see that, they should always remember their mother as she was and not as the thing that he now held in his arms. He looked around the room, blood was everywhere, seeping into the crevices of the wood planks. Staining her favourite rug. It was a mess. He couldn't leave it to be so messy, he couldn't let anyone see it like this. No, his mother would have had a fit. He could imagine her right now. Yelling at him. Telling him what a pigsty it was and to clean it up. But he couldn't move, if he moved then he would leave her and he couldn't leave her. He could let her be alone. So he quietly rocked her, the way she had when he was having a nightmare, if he did that then maybe he would wake from this one. Maybe it would be alright.

The light had crept through the window in the early hours of the morning, only bringing light to the scene that laid at the Halliwell Manor's attic, but Chris had hardly noticed, he didn't want to stare at her anymore. He stared at her and he was greeted with the grinning cut, taunting him as it filled him with guilt. He stared at her and she was blaming him. So he took attention to the cracks on the wall, the furniture that clutter the attic until he felt a force suddenly shift him away. But he didn't want to move away, he couldn't leave her.

"Chris," Now that didn't sound right, Chris scrunched his eyebrows as confusion replaced the scene, no that wasn't right at all. That voice, it wasn't who it was meant to be. The scene before him distorted, warping out of this current reality and into a dark void. The voice was becoming clearer as he felt himself being now pulled away from the void.

"Chris," The world around him was a blur, he didn't know where he was. Was he fourteen again, clutching his mother's prone body? Was he floating within the void? Or was this all still a strange and twisted dream forming again? "Chris."

His eyes snapped open, quickly adjusting to the world around him as it fell into place. Quickly taking a stance as if he was preparing for an attack. He'd learn quickly in his time to never be off guard, to always be prepared to fight if need be. In fact, it shocked him how long he had been to become fully aware of his surrounds. Maybe he was becoming too relaxed staying here in the past, not having to worry about a looming attack all the time. It may seem to the sisters that he was always on high alert, preparing for a demon attack every second of the day but this was the most relaxed he had been in years, even with everything that was going on. Or maybe it was having that dream again.

Turning his attention to Nathan, who was already on his feet, Chris dismissed his own troubles. It wasn't as though this hadn't happened before, "What?" He asked, still sounding groggy from his restless sleep.

"It appears the sisters have encountered the Headless Horsemen," Chris sighed, urging himself out of the bed despite feeling like he was even more exhausted now than before, he already knew this was going to be a long day.

Hope you enjoyed this little chapter, Chris centric and all, even if it was depressing for me to actually write and probably for you all to read. I didn't mean for it to get that psychologically in-depth with Chris but I think it's important to see what exactly Chris has gone through, which I would have liked to see on Charmed more often but unfortunately didn't happened. I also would have liked to see more of the dark future but I guess that has led me here to writing this little fic, so yeah.

Please don't forget to review, favourite and follow this story, it always brings joy when I see you do and it helps when you actually tell me what you guys want, whether you have any questions going on or whether you just liked or hated something.

See you all next time!