Despair painted his days. A constant worry was coiled deep in his stomach that showed itself in sleepless nights and hopeless dreams. He longed to go into the Underworld and find Chris, to find out what happened to him; but, that would shatter the weak unofficial treaty that both sides were hanging onto. During Council meetings, Wyatt found himself daydreaming and picturing all the bad things that could happen to his secret lover.

He knew that the Demonic realm didn't treat their children as lovingly as they did in the Wiccan and Mortal ones. They treated their children with a harsh hand but were also protective and clung onto their children as most were slaughter by rival clans before most took their first steps. It was a hard world in the Underworld and Wyatt knew that most demons were envious of their lives above ground; but were too proud to admit it.

Blood was everything with both worlds. In the Wiccan world, the more powerful the Coven the more precious the blood. For the demonic world, it didn't matter what blood flowed through your veins as long as it was pure.

Which was why Chris had a target painted on his back. As a half-blood, a unseen consequence of the Source having a lustful experience with a dark witch, many demons roared in anger at the fact that the Source would have the nerve to call Chris his heir. With his mother's death when he was a child, Chris found himself as a boy flung into the world of demonic politics that left him scarred and cold.

And now, Wyatt feared that Chris's half-blood status has finally caught up to him.

Or worse…

Chris's father - the Source - has perished.

No longer would Chris get his one freedom of attending school in the mortal realm as his demonic heritage would force him to take the throne he loathed. "Wyatt-"

The calling of his name made the young man's head snap up. He sent his mother a sheepish smile, her eyebrow rising in disapproval. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

His mother sighed, "Cormac asked if you were ready for Italy."

"Oh, yeah." Wyatt's gaze shifted towards an Elder, his gray eyes calm and peaceful, tranquility that Wyatt longed to have, "I've been ready for a few days."

Cormac nodded, "Have you readied your words?"

"Yeah."

"The Ri Dege Coven doesn't like those who can't speak well, young Halliwell, I urge you to go over them once more."

"Are they really that bad?"

Cormac frowned, "They have the been the ruling Coven for many years. They hold a lot of weight within the European Wiccan community. Their approval could mark a grand step towards a unified Wiccan community."

Wyatt nodded, "I'll go over everything one more time."

"Thank you."

Wyatt frowned and leaned back in his seat, his arms crossed over his chest. In a matter of hours, he would be in Italy, once again fulfilling his role as heir to the Halliwell Coven. Closing his eyes, he wondered when the Wiccan community would start flinging brides at him as well.

The pitcher's mound became their spot in Wyatt's second year of high school. The baseball field was hardly locked and the fence kept prying eyes out. It was a neutral ground that stripped Wyatt's role and Chris's titles away. They were merely two men who, for some unfathomable reason, loved each other even though their worlds were miles apart.

And for the first time in two years, Wyatt walked to the mound with a forlorn feeling knowing that he would be alone tonight. The stars were hidden beneath a blanket of clouds and a chill was starting to form in the early autumn air. Sitting down on the dirt, Wyatt frowned and wiped his eyes.

"Don't cry. I'm sure you'll get that 3.0 eventually"

Wyatt twisted around, his eyes wide and his heart hammering in his chest. "Chris."

The brunette man smiled softly, his green eyes tired and his body clad in his father's family colors. Wyatt licked his lips as he took in the fine garments that his lover was dressed in. Pants that were taut and a pair of boots that Wyatt suspected that wasn't made from the skin of an creature that lived above ground. A fine coat hid what Chris was wearing on his torso. Dark, blood red sprawl work decorated the thick black fabric. The lines twisted around each arm before the danced around the long lengths of side panels before forming thick serpents that coiled around the hem of Chris's coat.

Slowly, Wyatt stood. "He's dead."

Chris nodded. "He died three days ago. An assassin got lucky and poisoned him. Our Healer couldn't find the antidote in time."

"I'm sorry."

Chris shrugged, "Such is life. The man wasn't much of a father."

"You still loved him."

"And he would call you a foolish mortal for harboring such feelings." Chris snorted, "He was the perfect demonic father - cold, distant, but protective and a good mentor."

"He could've let you rot in an orphanage."

Chris smiled, it tinted in sadness, "Part of me wishes that he did."

Hesitantly, Wyatt reached forward and took Chris's hands in his own. He swept his thumbs over the tops of Chris's hands. "I leave for Italy in a few hours."

"I know." Chris whispered.

"Will you be here when I come back?"

Chris let out a shaky breath, "Don't ask questions that you already know the answer to."

Wyatt closed his eyes, a tear sneaking it's way out of his eye, "We can-"

A cold thumb wiped away Wyatt's tear, "You know we can't. The Underworld is in shambles and if I have any hope of keeping the Underworld from causing chaos above ground, I need to give it my full focus. You need to focus on the Covens and make sure you build the dream world that the Elders are counting on you building."

"Chris-"

"I'm sorry Wyatt, but, you knew this was going to happen one day."

"I hoped-"

"Hope doesn't always mean reality," Chris swallowed painfully, "I love you."

"Then fight for us, damn it!"

Chris let out a soft breath. Gently, he placed his lips on Wyatt's. He kept it chaste, a simple press of lips, before leaning back. He gave Wyatt one last smile before shimmering away.