Issues of a Tortured Charmed Character

Summary: After forced to time travel one too many times, Chris and Wyatt complain about the profound lack of originality in Charmed fanfiction.

Disclaimer: This is not meant to offend anyone, or any particular writer. After chatting online about originality of fanfiction, I mentioned the Charmed writer's tendency to make stories Chris-centric. Then, while bored during class and possibly high on caffeine (mmm, coffee) I began writing this and had to post it.

So, once again, not trying to offend anyone. Mind you, I haven't read a lot of the cliché fics, as I prefer ones more about the sisters. I'm not commenting about the quality of writing, just the plots as I see them in the summaries.

That said, keep an open mind and enjoy!

Halliwell Manor, 2027

Chris fell through the time portal onto the hard Manor attic floor, the shimmering blue Triquetra ceasing to exist right afterwards. Rubbing his bruised tail bone, Chris moaned, "Every damn day. I hate it."

"Better seal it so whatever Mary Sue that fell in love with you doesn't follow," Wyatt teased. He was seated on the couch across from the portal wall, browsing through the Book of Shadows.

Looking up at his decidedly non-evil brother, Chris let out a sigh of relief. Whenever a fanfiction author sent him to the past, he never knew what kind of future he was going to come back to – if Wyatt would be evil or not. "Well, I don't have to worry about turning you good…again…so I could care less about whatever comes after me."

Still, Wyatt narrowed his eyes at his brother – a patented look from their mother that always said do it, or else. Knowing his brother was right, Chris muttered a sealing spell that caused the chalk outline on the wall to disappear. "There, happy?"

"Very," Wyatt replied, not even looking up from the Book. "What was the story about this time?"

Chris waved a dismissive hand. "They found out my true identity, which helped me deal with terrifying memories from my other past. The usual."

"Well, you don't look any worse for wear. In fact, those jeans…" Wyatt trailed off, his eyes widening in horror. "What was that?"

"Another incest/slash fic. Fight it off, man, fight it off," Chris said.

Wyatt looked like he was concentrating hard on doing just that. "Believe me, I'm trying."

Not for the first time, Chris was thankful that they could, for the most part, fight off some of the weaker plots. Ever since his canon trip to the past, he'd been relieved to come back and see that his original goals had been accomplished. Wyatt wasn't evil, Leo didn't hate him, his mom and aunts were still alive…not to mention that demons hadn't been allowed to take over.

Then, the fanfiction writers came in. Since the canon writers no longer needed him, he was subjected to the dozens of clichéd "Chris-centric" stories. He guessed it made sense. Being characters, he needed to be told what to do by someone. Otherwise, he'd go the way of all cancelled show characters who weren't kept alive in fanfiction – vanished from their universe, never to be seen again. When he looked at it that way, he didn't mind it so much.

Wyatt didn't either. After all, he was usually either one of two ways – the popular, more powerful good brother, or the evil but still more powerful brother. It was a win-win situation for him.

Chris, on the other hand, was either revealing his identity in a dozen different ways or time traveling some way or another.…

It wasn't fun.

"I don't get why fanfiction writers seem to have this obsession with me and time traveling," Chris grumbled. As if to whichever author would take over his life next, he shouted, "It's been done, you hacks! Would it kill you to be original?"

Wyatt chuckled. "Yeah, that is messed up. Especially since some are just rewriting what was canon."

"And I'm sick of being depressed and angsty all the time! Who do they think they are, Smallville writers?" Chris said. Even now, he was still emotional from his last trip. "Really, what do authors have against nice, cheery, demon-of-the-week fluff? In this time? Canon was never as angsty as some of these stories."

Shrugging, Wyatt could only reason, "I think it's cause teen fangirls think you're cute when you're angsty. I know I…" He stopped to admonish himself. "No, stop it!"

"Thanks, bro," Chris said with a sympathetic frown, knowing that Wyatt was working hard to keep his hormones under control. Sighing, he explained, "Look, I don't mind being a character. Not all stories are bad – some of them I don't mind. I just wish there was some way I could never have to time travel and reveal my identity, or you would never turn evil ever again."

Wyatt hesitated, then tentatively suggested, "We could cast a spell."

"You think that would work?" Chris asked, daring to hope just a little bit.

"Well, probably not. The author writing this fic can't write a decent spell to save her life," Wyatt huffed. "But it would send the message to other writers better, I think."

Chris shrugged. "Why not."

Moments later, Wyatt and Chris were at the small table in the attic with a cauldron in the middle. They both made it up as they went along. "Okay, first…how about this?" Wyatt suggested, holding up a pencil. Then he broke it in half and threw it in. "Should be symbolic of…something."

"Right. To break old writing habits," Chris suggested. He then took the chalk that had been used to draw the time portal Triquetra, held it over the cauldron's mouth, and crushed it into dust. "That takes care of time travel."

"Right. Now to prevent turning me evil…" Wyatt trailed off, looking around the table. Spying a picture of the family, that they still had the negatives of, he took it out of the frame. Taking an athame, he nicked his finger and let the blood trickle onto the photo. Satisfied, he tossed that into the mix.

"Good idea," Chris said. Next, he wrote 'MARY SUES' on a piece of paper, lit a match and torched the paper. Throwing the flaming paper in, he muttered, "That's self-explanatory."

"Nice," Wyatt said, nodding in approval. "Now for the spell…"

"Uh…let me think…" Chris said. Closing his eyes, he chanted:

Powers that Be, hear me say

Please rid our lives of these clichés.

These elements of recycled plots

All vanish as they burn and rot

Grimacing, Chris tentatively opened his eyes. "Well?"

"'Rot'? I don't think they're technically rotting…" Wyatt pointed out.

Chris let out an exasperated sigh. "It's not like it's going to work anyway."

"With that attitude it won't," Wyatt teased. When Chris glared at him, he added, "But it's fine. Let's do this."

Together, they said the spell with enthusiasm:

Powers that Be, hear us say

Please rid our lives of these clichés.

These elements of recycled plots

All vanish as they burn and rot

They jumped back as the contents of the cauldron exploded. Peering over the edge, they saw that it was now empty, as if it hadn't been used at all. Hopeful, Wyatt asked, "Think it worked?"

"I guess we'll find out, one way or another," Chris said. They listened as a noise came from downstairs. From what they could tell, their aunt Phoebe had arrived with the cousins. "Come on, the family's here."

"You go – I'll clean up," Wyatt offered.

Walking out of the attic, Chris felt Wyatt's eyes on him. He rolled his own eyes. "Wyatt, stop looking at my butt."

"Right. Sorry."

A/N: Now that I think about it, there probably aren't as many Chris-centric angsty fics as there seems to be. But whatever, just take it as a fun parody.