The Transition

Summary: One Shot: Chris wasn't always Chris. There came a time where the name he held was too painfully to carry any longer.

Disclaimer: It's called FANfiction for a reason.

My name is Nicholas Victor Haliwell, or, more precisely, it was.

I'm a normal kid. I go to school, I like skating, and I have a few friends. I'm just you're average twelve year old, well apart from the fact that I'm half witch, half whitelighter, and I vanquish demons daily with my family.

I walked in the front door of the manor, feeling slightly sick. I had just seen my older brother attacking an innocent witch. I'd always looked up to Wyatt, admired him, he was my idol. Until now, that is. I found Mom in the kitchen. "Mom?" I ask.

"Hi, Nicholas." She answers me. I roll my eyes.

"Mom, I know who's behind the recent attacks."

This perks her interest, and she turns to me, actually seeing me for the first time in a few months.

"Who?" she turns back to the carrot that she was peeling, getting out the grinder.

"Wyatt." I answer calmly and truthfully.

She actually snorts. "Don't be ridiculous, Nicholas. Wyatt would never do something like that. Why would he do that?" she starts grating the carrot, totally ignoring me.

"It's true, Mom. I saw him in the park, torturing innocents."

"Nicholas, where is this coming form? Are you jealous? Are you upset that you aren't as powerful as Wyatt, is that your problem?"

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "Mom, I'm not jealous. I'm not trying to get him in trouble. I am telling the truth!" She doesn't believe me. No biggie. She never believes me.

"Nicholas, sometimes I don't know where I went wrong, Wyatt is such a sweet little boy, and his power doesn't go to his head, and you're not even as powerful as him and your always so horrid to everyone, why are you trying to frame your brother, he's always been so good to you?" I can't believe it. There are tears in her eyes. She is actually crying. She believes that Wyatt is good, when all the evidence points against it. Not to mention that she thinks this is about power.

"Mom! Get it into your head, I'm not lying and it's not about power! How can you be so blind! And you wonder where you went wrong!"

Uh-oh. That was not the right thing to say. Big no-no. "I know exactly where I went wrong, Nicholas! You are where I went wrong! You are the biggest mistake of my life!"

Ouch. That hurt like a slap on the face. Well, actually, more than a slap on the face, more like a knife in the abdomen. Doesn't quite have the same ring to it, but it's true. I mean, I knew I was a mistake, of course I did, how could I not? Mom hated me, I've never met my father, and the Aunts aren't much better. Wyatt was the only one ever remotely nice to me, but now that I know that's a lie… well, it hurts. I had known I was a mistake, but to hear it being said aloud hurt.

Aunt Phoebe has just walked into the door, and she dropped her shopping bags, staring at me and Mom as if we were the most shocking and fascinating thing in the world. Quickly, I block my emotions from that annoying empathic power of hers.

Mom's trying to retract her statement now. "I'm sorry, Nicholas, I didn't mean it. You're not a mistake!" she's panicking. I almost smirk at her; it's nice to see her suffering a bit for a change. Not of course, that I want her to suffer a lot... just a little bit, just so she can feel what it's like to be me for once. Instead, however, of forgiving her, in my pain and anger, I yell back at her.

"Don't be stupid! It's not like I didn't already know that I was a mistake! How the hell could I not? You all hate me, and of course, I'm always wrong. But that's just fine, if you want to say that I'm not a mistake, I want you to prove it!" I think my voice rose an octave or two higher when I said that, I mean whose wouldn't? I was panicking. Badly.

She stands there, stunned for a second, before shouting back at me. "Bloody hell, Nicholas, of course you're not a mistake, I'd do anything, just give me one chance to prove myself!"

Well, she asked for it. I'll ask her the one question that every mother should know, but will stump her brain. I took a deep breath, my glance flickering briefly to Phoebe, who still looks like she's watching the most fascinating soap ever. "When is my birthday?" I ask calmly.

We've never actually celebrated my birthday. The only reason I myself know it is because I once asked Wyatt, and he orbed my birth certificate to him for us to take a look at. It was all dusty and wrinkled, so unlike Wyatt's. Wyatt's was hug up on the dining room wall like a kind of trophy in a golden case, or something equivalent to it.

Mom's mouth works for a few Moments while she rakes her brain. Phoebe is watching her intently, waiting for her to spit it out. But, like I expected, no answer comes. Finally she seems to realise how much she's neglected me, but acts in a state of denial anyway. "I can't remember right now… very busy…" she turns to dinner like I don't exist. I glace at Phoebe's open mouth, and, sick of being watched like the TV, I touch my schoolbag and orb upstairs.

I'm now in the attic, which is kind of dusty, since the book of shadows is now kept in the basement, due to the fact that me and Wyatt always used to orb to the attic when we were younger, and that was the weak spot in our defences. We had to be able to orb out from there, so demons could shimmer in there as well… so they moved it to the basement. I think they'll be moving it back to the attic soon, anyway, as they are going to make it so that home is an orb no-go zone. Due to the fact that my father orbed down a few weeks ago and nearly saw me. It's not like he knows I exist or anything… Mom didn't tell him because she didn't want him to feel guilty about leaving two sons behind to become an elder instead of one. And since he hardly ever visits, it's not much an effort to keep it secret. Anyway, back to the attic. They still keep potions ingredients up here, and I can easily get hold of the book of shadows.

"Book!" I whisper, quietly but forcefully. It orbs into my hands and I flick through it, making notations on several potions.

I squeeze my eyes shut for a few seconds, then speak.

"The secrets of shadows, etch into my mind,
and that I have got them, no-one will find,
for soon I shall leave them to see the light,
and I shall go with the coming of night."

It wasn't the best spell, but, it did the job and I remembered all the demons, spells, and potions that were in the book.

So I went to my room, but not before banishing the book back to the basement. Within the next few weeks, I avoided the family, especially Mom, and made some potions, preparing myself.

Then, exactly a month later, I was ready.

By this time, Mom was still in denial, as was the rest of the family, but a mess so bad had been made, that not even the cleaners could clean it up.

Wyatt had appeared on television, disguised of course, and revealed the magic world to everyone in the world. Worst of all, he created a spell so that no-one could forget what he said if they heard him. Within the space of a few days, every person in the whole world had seen the tape of him admitting the existence of magic to the whole world, and the cleaners were powerless.

But, it was no longer my problem.

It was dinner, and the sun was going down. True to my word as ever, I stood up from the table. "Where are you going, Nick?" asked Aunt Paige.

"Home," I answered, by which time everyone was looking at me. "Stuff!" I muttered, and a small purse of my stuff appeared in my hand. I'd shrunk it all to fit in, of course, well, not exactly. More like a smaller version of Mary Poppins' bag. The sun had fully set, and I orbed away.

I'll probably never know what happened then, but I don't care. Nicholas Victor Haliwell is gone, and he will never be real again.

Now, I am Christopher Nicholas Perry.