Hey guys.

This is just a little insight into life in the Changed future based on a line (G) Wyatt said to Paige that got me thinking.

Anyone who has read my story A Little Problem will already be familiar with my versions of these characters, but you don't necessarily have to have read it to understand this.

Disclaimer: These characters are not mine.

Three weeks before the events of A Little Problem

"What the hell, man?"

It's an early morning greeting Chris has long been familiar with.

Well, admittedly, in recent months it's become more of a routine than anything else. He almost expects it. Dreads it.

But it doesn't stop him.

If he did - stop, that is - then that would be it, wouldn't it? No more worried talks with his father, 'just making sure everything is fine.' (The rolling of his eyes here heavily implied). No more threats from his mother - pleas really, simply disguised. No more snooping from his aunts, allowing him some impish amusement with the curiosity Chris knows is killing them on the inside. And no more lectures from his brother who, of them all, never seems to grasp the meaning of, 'For God's sake, leave me alone. I'm fine.'

"Like hell you are!" Wyatt argues furiously, brows furrowed as he steps into the kitchen, fully clothed.

The only indicators of the God-awful hour - one which, before all of this began, would have given Chris a heart attack just to see his brother up, out of bed without any forceful prompting - are his ever-so-slightly bleary, bloodshot eyes and the fact that his blonde hair is uncharacteristically ruffled.

"This is getting to be beyond a joke," he continues, angrily snatching a mug from the draining board and pouring himself some coffee. "I'm running out of patience here, Chris. And you seriously don't want to know what happens when it goes completely."

"Just let it go, bro," Chris says tiredly. "I am so not in the mood for any more of your well-intentioned criticism today."

"That's because you heard it all yesterday," Wyatt grumbles. "And the day before that. And the day before that. And every other day for the past two weeks before that. Even I'm getting sick of preaching the same old crap that I know you are never going to pay any heed to. But guess what, Chris? That doesn't mean I'm just gonna, 'let it go,'" he says scathingly. "If it were me in your position, you would've probably broke down and tried to beat some sense into me. Believe it or not, this is me being agreeable. But, honestly?" He pauses, meeting his brothers gaze with such heat that, for the first time, Chris begins to feel somewhat uneasy. "We're all getting a little desperate now."

Chris swallows, knowing deep in his gut, call it instinct, that whatever's coming can't be good.

This time, he fears he may have stretched the boundaries a little too far, and now they're gonna snap right back and hit him in the face for his stupidity.

When has he ever been able to keep things from his brother? To stop Wyatt from going all over-protective on his ass?

"For the past month I've seen you drink coffee like there's no tomorrow, then sit up all night, trying to stay awake for as long as possible before eventually falling asleep because, in your dysfunctional, zombie-like state, we were able to slip you another one of those nifty potions, only to have you wake either dazed or hysterical and repeat the cycle all over again. Not to mention all the other stupid stuff you've been doing. Like taking on demons on your own almost every night, for example, despite the fact that you can barely walk straight. Or how about the time you almost exposed magic because you were so out of it, you tried to orb during the middle of class? The only reason you didn't being that you were too damn exhausted, you couldn't even do that!"

"That was one time," Chris protests. "And my sleeping patterns may be a little… unconventional at the minute. But it's fine. I have it under control. I just have to deal with some stuff on my own right now. It'll be okay. Trust me, I've been getting enough hours in to keep me going."

"That's another thing," Wyatt says, nostrils flaring. "This whole, 'I'll deal with it on my own' thing. Nobody even knows what's going on! You won't talk to anybody about it! We just want to help, Chris." His voice grows more passionate with each word. "Please, don't pretend like you can manage whatever it is that's bothering you, because it is obvious to everyone just how badly you are struggling with this! Mom is sick with worry."

"Too bad," he replies coldly, face hard, his tensing shoulders the only sign of remorse. "This is my problem. I don't need to open up to you all about every thought that ever crosses my mind!" Chris wrinkles his nose in disgust. "Or have a heart-to-heart about feelings or any other poetic crap. This is my business and mine alone! Why don't you all just take the hint and leave me the hell alone!"

And with that, he swiftly orbs out.

Distantly, he adds in a shout that sounds suspiciously like a threat, "And I will hunt demons whenever I bloody well want!"

The sound of his bedroom door slamming reverberating through the sleepy manor - seeming to shake the walls with the indisputable force of his anger - is enough to make Wyatt flinch.

It's not long before he hears the sound of feet shuffling down the stairs, and Wyatt inhales deeply, focusing on the simple swelling of his lungs, allowing that innate calmness to wash over him as he prepares himself for… something. Something unpleasant and more than likely, heartbreaking in a way that leaves you feeling totally inadequate and helplessly hopeless.

"What happened?" Piper merely sighs, readjusting the cord around her nightgown, pulling it closer in comfort, and he can feel her sadness.

"It's nothing, Mom," Wyatt murmurs gently. Slightly guilty. "Nothing that hasn't happened before."

She sighs again, rubbing her forehead. "You shouldn't bait him like that. You know what he's like. Chris is nothing if not stubborn. We have to wait it out. He won't listen. He has to come to us first."

See? Hopeless.

"You know he won't do that," he says simply.

"I know." Wyatt really doesn't think he can bear it if his mother - the strong, persevering, invincible

woman he knows so well - sighs that dejected sigh again, but she does. And it kills him.

In fact, it pretty much makes the decision for him.

"Mom, I am going to get through to him. One way or another, Chris is going to stop avoiding this."

"Honey…" Piper says, pressing her lips together as she considers a way to approach this with minimum damage. "Look, there are some things that Chris may be going through right now, and I think he just needs some space to work through it. As difficult as it is, we have to give him that. None of us can really understand what he's going through-"

"Because he refuses to tell us."

Piper shoots him a glare for interrupting, and he murmurs a sheepish, "Sorry."

"It's hard to explain, Wyatt," she continues, looking apologetic herself. "I can only speculate, but I have some idea of what's happening, and from what I do know, our involvement isn't going to help. To Chris, our ignorance only makes it all the more difficult and he doesn't need any reminders of just how little we know."

Wyatt shakes his head, confused. "That doesn't make any sense. How can we know about things he won't admit?"

"That's just it, though. He shouldn't have to admit anything. In a way, I think I've failed him. I didn't know they would come back. I didn't want to burden him, but instead I just blindsided him."

"Mom, I have no idea what you're talking about, but you have definitely not failed Chris."

She smiles, but it's not a happy smile. "Thanks, sweetie." The words ring hollow, backed by no belief - only self-doubt.

It makes this so much harder to ignore. Impossible, really.

The mystery of it all. The anguish he can see so clearly, shinning in his mother's eyes. The same anguish he knows is buried inside Chris.

"I'm sorry, Mom." His expression is pained yet defiant. "But I can't sit back and do nothing," Wyatt says strongly. "I won't."

Later that day, Chris re-emerges, hesitantly venturing downstairs.

But as it turns out, his reservations are unwarranted.

Things seem fairly normal. As normal as ever in the Halliwell household, anyway.

No-one comments on his dishevelled appearance or the ever-darkening circles under his eyes. Not even the way his legs tremble, disturbingly unsteady as walks past.

They just carry on, let it go without an issue, and it brightens Chris' mood considerably.

Thank God.

He'd been worried that his family would automatically jump down his throat.

Even Wyatt appears to be in better spirits, offering a faint half-smile, which he returns. They can never stay mad at each other for long.

Settling down at the table with his study notes at hand, Chris relaxes in his chair and lets out a quiet sigh of relief.

Everything is fine. Everything is fine. Everything is fine, He chants over and over to himself.

So long as no-one mentions that anything is amiss, everything is normal. Everything is fine. His entire life isn't based around a lie. This is how it always was. And always was meant to be.

They aren't memories.

"Chris? Chris?" Piper's voice, loud and demanding, snaps him out of his daze.

"Huh?" he asks, looking around in bewilderment.

Everyone is staring at him expectantly.

"I said," Piper repeats, rolling her eyes to hide her anxiety. "Would you like something to eat? You didn't get anything earlier."

"No, thanks." He smiles in a way he hopes is reassuring. "I'm fine." God, that word gets tedious quickly.

"You sure?" she asks, because, when it comes to food, his mother always double checks.

The weight of their stares are suffocating.

His mother… Once dead, now alive. For goodness sake, he watched her take her last breath, the light in her eyes slowly waning until, eventually, there was nothing.

He saw it. It very nearly ruined him… Wondering if there was anything he could have done differently. The images waiting to taunt him at night…Ceaselessly torturing him…..Prohibiting him from ever obtaining even an ounce of happiness…

His father… The man he has always looked up to, has chosen to follow in his footsteps. The one who has taught him everything, constantly telling Chris just how proud he is of him. The same man who hated him, constantly questioned his motives, was never around when he needed him, who openly admitted his suspicions of Chris even as he tried to save his brother - the one Leo forever favoured. Loved more.

But now gazes at him with such intense, undiluted distress.

His brother... Who he loved - loves - unconditionally. Even as he destroyed the world.

And in that moment, Chris is overwhelmed by the reality that they are not who he thought they were. That everything he believed so fervently that he was, is now called into question. That he can't trust his memories. He can't trust himself.

Chris needs to get away from their worry. From the pain their faces - both familiar and foreign - bring.

Now. Right now.

"Yeah." He nods. "It's fine. In fact, I was just heading out," Chris decides, rising to his feet and pushing his chair back with an ear-splitting screech.

Of course, Wyatt picks that moment to pipe up, effectively ending their momentary ceasefire. As he knew he would.

"Where are you going?" he asks with nonchalance Chris knows better than to trust.

"Out," he responds curtly, shrugging his shoulders stiffly.

"Yeah, I got that part," Wyatt says, his tone mirroring his own. "I believe I asked where?"

"That's really none of your business."

"The Underworld, I suppose?" he takes an educated guess, quirking a brow in challenge.

Chris' silence says more than any barefaced lie he could utter.

"You really enjoy testing patience, don't you?" Wyatt asks, voice dangerous.

"This has got nothing to do with you," he grits out, jaw clenched so tightly it almost hurts. "So I suggest you stay out of it."

"I bet it doesn't seem like it to you," his brothers says ominously, "But it'll make sense soon enough."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You'll see." Wyatt cocks his head to the side, face expressionless. "You know, you really shouldn't have pushed it. I was contemplating letting it go, but now I'm not so sure."

By now, Chris is getting worried. Gulping, he asks, "Wyatt, what are you talking about? What did you do?"

"Yes, son," Leo butts in, brows creased in confusion. "What have you done now?"

"Chris just doesn't seem to know when enough is enough. I'm merely going to show him what happens when you take it too far."

"You mean you're punishing me for wanting to go demon hunting?" Chris asks as though what his brother is proposing is positively crazy.

"No," Wyatt replies slowly. "I'm preventing you from having a mental breakdown. This isn't just about the excessive demon hunting, Chris. It's about everything. Your total and utter carelessness for one. You need to rest. Come to terms with whatever it is that's troubling you. If you keep avoiding the issue, it isn't going to go away. By bottling it up, you'll only make yourself sick."

"I don't think I like where this is headed…"

"Chris, I'll give a choice. You can either tell me now what's going on or, at least, let me help you. Or I can activate the spell I cast earlier and you can see what happens. Either way, you are going to stop doing this. So, tell me, the easy way or the hard way? It's your decision."

Fuming, mind frazzled, Chris says hotly, "Go to hell."

"Alright."

And just like that, Wyatt snaps his fingers.

Chris blinks, eyes half-closing.

All of a sudden, he feels dizzy and drained, cold yet clammy.

He swallows hard, already regretting his previous words as he sways on his feet, incapable of distinguishing anything as the room spins in and out of focus.

The black spots in his vision expand, merge together like a dark sheet cast over his eyes.

The approaching shadows welcome him in…

His eyes snap open just as he's being lowered onto the couch.

Sitting up slowly, Chris groans, raising a cautious hand to his pounding head.

"What's happening to me?" he asks weakly to no-one in particular.

Pinching his eyes shut, he allows his body time to adjust as the throbbing in his skull lessens and the last of the wooziness recedes.

Then, finally, his chest fills as he catches his breath, and things seem… normal, almost.

Okay.

Everything is fine.

"Was that it?" Chris asks mockingly, smirking a little. "That wasn't half as bad as you were making it out to be."

He looks towards Wyatt who is standing with his arms crossed in the corner, looking kind of…. apologetic?

Why? Nothing happened. Not really.

"Um, Chris…" Piper says, grimacing. "You should… uh, um… Oh God…"

"What?" he asks, puzzled by their reaction, his brows creasing.

Piper bites down on her lip, flicking a glance towards Wyatt who nods.

"What is it?" Chris repeats, muscles tensing.

"Chris… Wyatt… He-he-" She stops, lost for words. Takes a deep breath. "He took away your powers."

"He did what?"

They wince.

"How-how could he do that? Why would you do that?" Chris asks frantically, staring right at Wyatt.

"You were putting yourself in danger, Chris. And I can't allow that." His expression hardens, hands clenched into tight, resolute fists. "I won't."

"I can't believe this…" Chris says distantly, swallowing hard. Slowly, the shock gives way to anger which in turn, lowers the volume of his voice, eyes cold and intense, as he murmurs menacingly, "I need my powers, Wyatt. Now, give. Them. Back."

Wyatt juts out his chin. His reply swift, but firm. "No."

Chris' nostrils flare. "Don't be so stupid. Living in this home, it's dangerous not to have any magic. I won't be able to defend myself! Need I remind you that 'round here, demons kind of have a habit of popping in out of the blue at every opportunity. Tell me, I can at least orb!"

"Nope," he replies casually, shrugging his shoulders in a way that only serves to rile Chris up even more. "And, as for the whole 'endangering' thing… You won't have to worry about that. I can promise you now, one of us will always be at your side. Your own personal bodyguard."

Paling, Chris is suitably horrified.

"You can't do that!" Breaths coming faster - the thought of being essentially trapped in the Manor turning his stomach, stuck with his family at time when all he wants to do is get away - he says hastily, "Mom, tell him, he can't do that!"

"I'm sorry, honey," Piper murmurs softly. "But we all just want what's best for you. And if you continue to go down to the Underworld, you will only get yourself killed. I'm with Wyatt on this."

"Dad?" Chris asks, turning to him with an expression of pure desperation.

"There's nothing I can do, son. For now, I have to admit, he's got a point."

"You all suck!" Chris yells, shoving a hand through his hair in frustration. "I can't believe you! I haven't done anything wrong."

"Chris," Wyatt says worriedly, seeing how badly his brother is shaking, the exasperation already taking its toll. He places a supportive hand on Chris' shoulder, but it's not long before he shakes it off. "It's okay. Nothing bad is going to happen. So stop freaking out. This is only temporary. Just until you're in better shape. I won't let anything happen to you." Frowning, he vows earnestly, "You'll get your powers back, I swear."

Blowing out a breath of reluctant defeat, with his eyelids growing heavy, Chris says, "I'm tired, Wy. I really don't have the energy to fight you right now on this. Just… leave me alone."

"Okay," he responds gently, watching as Chris glares half-heartedly at his parents one last time, before turning around, and stumbling out of the room with such obvious exhaustion that it both reassures Wyatt that he's done the right thing, and worries him more than if his brother had stormed out like he knows he normally would have had everything been okay.

He jolts upright, sweat dampening his sheets while tears blur his vision, a cry stuck in his throat.

Soon, Chris is hyperventilating, panicked, unable to grasp enough air. And then his brother's by his side (maybe he was there all along). Pulling him into a warm embrace, trailing a hand through his hair softly, and whispering words of comfort.

"Shh… It's okay. Just breathe. In and out. In and out. It's okay."

It takes some time, and a lot more quiet comforting, but eventually, Chris' breathing regulates and he calms.

And for a brief second or two, he actually believes it. Everything is fine.

Blinking sleepily, he slumps against his brother and sighs in fatigue. "Chris?" Wyatt tentatively begins, gently rubbing his back.

Hesitating, he grimaces, biting down hard on his lower lip. "How often does that happen?"

"Every time I go to sleep," Chris confesses, cringing himself.

"Are the nightmares that bad?"

"They're not nightmares." A smile actually tugs on his lips. "Not all of them. Some are pretty nice, strangely enough." Chris shakes his head, inhaling sharply as he attempts to clear his thoughts. "But it still puts a strain on my body and my mind. Sometimes it's just too much."

Wyatt frowns, processing.

"You didn't have to suffer in silence, Chris. You could've come to me instead of running off to the Underworld to escape it."

"It… helps. Vanquishing stuff… With a good reason, of course," he's quick to add, "Gets it out of my system, I guess."

"There are other ways to manage stress, you know. Better, healthier ways."

"Oh, really?" he asks doubtfully. "Like what? Talking about it?"

Wyatt rolls his eyes at his sarcasm. "Yes, talking about it. Letting someone in. Even if it means they see you at your most vulnerable. Because that's where your real problem lies, Chris," he tells him. "In your pride."

Chris laughs humourlessly. "Whatever," he mutters, before stilling, alarm crossing his features. "You… you won't mention this, will you? To Mom or anyone?"

"What do you take me for?" Wyatt scoffs. "Of course I won't."

Pulling a face, he remarks frankly, "You do have a pretty big mouth, though."

"Oh, thanks," Wyatt says dryly, but he smiles all the same.

"Don't try to deny it. You couldn't keep a secret to save your life. Not only that, you are a terrible liar."

"Well, I'll try my best, okay?"

"And you'll stay with me?" Chris asks, voice soft and unsure. "You know… just in case."

"Sure," Wyatt agrees, eyes warm. "Whatever you want."

At breakfast things go smoothly, with Chris looking better rested than ever, having slept uninterrupted for over eight hours.

As furious as he is with Wyatt, he can't help but be grateful to have had him around.

So, things are relatively peaceful.

It helps that Wyatt has to leave for a last minute errand, allowing Piper some quality time to bake with her son.

Rolling out the dough, she begins gently, always the peacemaker, "I know you're angry, Peanut, but you need to cut Wyatt some slack. He's worried, you know? We all are."

Chris sighs, trying to mindful of their feelings, but finding it difficult. "I know. I just wish he'd let me manage this on my own instead of always babying me."

"He only baby's you because he cares," Piper says simply. "He's not usually this bad."

"Yeah, I guess…" he answers absentmindedly, brows furrowed.

Piper pauses, tilting her head to the side and scrutinizing her youngest. "What is it, Peanut?"

Chris smiles softly, looking up at her from under his lashes. "I'm twenty-two, Mom." He shifts uncomfortably. "Are you ever going to stop calling me that? It's embarrassing."

"Nope," she replies, grinning as she reaches over and ruffles his hair. He backs away, rolling his eyes. "You will always be my little peanut. Have been even in the womb when I had those crazy cravings at strange hours during the night, and will be even when you have your own children."

"But I wasn't always, was I?" he says sadly, mouth turning down at the corners. "I was Chris Perry, at a time. Or so you thought. And you hated him."

Piper freezes.

It was one thing to suspect, but another altogether to have it confirmed…

"Oh, sweetie," she says, wrapping him in a hug. "I didn't ever hate you. I couldn't. I was suspicious, wary, and stupid enough not to recognise my own son when I seen him. I will always regret how badly I treated you in the beginning. It haunts me that I could do that to my own child. Especially someone so good and self-sacrificing. I don't know if you remember, but I did try to make up for it. In your own childhood, I did all I could to stop you from becoming so hardened. The last thing I wanted for you was to remember all that you suffered, but looking back, I can see that that was totally unfair."

She sighs, holding him tighter.

"That past is a part of you, and has shaped you in ways that I can't begin to comprehend, even if you - yourself - weren't aware of it. And I know it doesn't seem like it to you, but I loved that other Chris. So much. And I missed him every day. When I seen bits and pieces of him in you, I felt hope that I'd see him again some day even if that was selfish. Because, let's be honest, some of his traits were a lot less… pleasant than others. And he felt a lot of pain. I felt like I was betraying you by comparing you to him, but in the end, Chris, you are both the same. The same soul. And that's all that matters."

He laughs, blinking back tears.

It's painful, it hurts to do it, but the atmosphere in the room lifts at the sound, and his chest feels so much lighter.

"It's weird," Chris says, screwing up his face. "I can remember when you were pregnant with me. It's really creeping me out."

Piper chuckles. "Trust me, it was weird for me, too. Remember when I cast that spell-"

"To make me follow you everywhere," he recalls, laughing harder.

"Yeah, every time you orbed, you felt this really intense need to be near me-"

"So I had to come right back-"

"And it drove you crazy so you decided to make my life a living hell-"

"By never leaving your side, and fighting it every chance I could, until I was literally glued to your side and you got so frustrated, you just had to reverse it," Chris finishes, tears of happiness and grief mingling as they run down his cheeks.

"It wasn't all bad, Chris," Piper says, pulling back and meeting his eye, brushing the moisture away with her thumb.

"I know," he murmurs, ducking his head. In that moment, he allows himself one small, yet painfully significant truth. "That's why I miss it."

For the next few days, Wyatt continues to help Chris through the night, occasionally talking things through, and things gradually improve.

The break from demons is also definitely beneficial and even Chris eventually admits that maybe he shouldn't have become so obsessed and that maybe he was only doing more harm than good.

Progress is slow, but they're getting there. The two brothers still bicker incessantly, good-naturedly for the most part, but then again, what siblings don't?

The best thing, though?

Wyatt no longer has to set an alarm for the morning just to come downstairs and check if Chris has actually returned alive and well from the Underworld.

It doesn't play on his mind anymore, and after arguing for well over an hour, Chris finally relents, "Fine," he sighs, "I'll let you accompany me any time I go demon hunting in the future."

"Promise?" Wyatt persists.

"Yes. I promise."

He smiles. "Good. Now you can have your powers back."

Chris blinks.

Taken aback, he says sceptically, "Seriously? That's it? It was that easy?"

"Yup."

"You don't want to know everything else? Like what the dreams are all about?"

Chris refuses to believe it is that simple.

"I do want to know, Chris," Wyatt says honestly. "But I'm not going to make it a condition to restoring your powers. I want you to want to tell me. That's my only difficulty. We've never kept things from each other before."

The raw pain in his eyes rips at Chris' heart.

And clouds his mind.

"You think I don't want to tell you?" he asks, stunned. "Of course I want to share everything! But I can't, Wyatt. I'm trying to protect you!"

As soon as the words tumble from his lips, Chris wants to take them back, clasping a hand quickly over his mouth.

But it's too late.

Wyatt freezes, eyes widening then narrowing grimly.

Shortly after comes the look.

The look that pins you in place and seems to see right through you, just daring you to lie and see what happens.

"Protect me?" Perhaps Wyatt doesn't intend to sound threatening, but he does - if only because of the fear Chris has of this particular subject matter.

Chris rubs the back of his neck, uneasy now.

Feeling nauseous, he murmurs to himself, "I would have been a fool not to think this was going to come up somehow at some point in the future." He takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "Maybe it is best that you know…"

At the time, those words were damn near impossible to utter.

But, in retrospect, it's probably one of the best decisions Chris feels he ever made.

Thanks for reading. Please share your thoughts.