Disclaimer: I don't own this, I make no money from it, I own neither characters nor setting, nor premise, and I intend no infringement or copyright. I make this to pay homage to the original creators and not intend in anyway to misrepresent that.

Title: When a Child is Born

Author: LixiDes

Universe: Charmed

Theme/Topic: Chris/Wyatt setting on how they got together...is mildly disturbing..

Rating: Adult. Language, content, theme/topic rating, just to be on the safe side. It's only for those...over the age of sixteen I suppose (Eighteen in the USA). Really....

Characters: Chris, Wyatt, Piper, Leo, Paige, Phoebe, brief mentions of Prue....Ermmm...Anyone in the series, I suppose. Basically they'll just pop up. And there's just too many to list on here.

Warnings/Spoilers: Incest is the main one. Emm...Abuse, D/s relationship, language....(is trying not to make the same mistake she made with BSP and put too many warnings.) Incest and male/male relationships...Odd. I'm so used to slash now, I even forget to qualify whether it's het or slash...I just...assumed.

Word Count: 1948 words (and that's just the first chapter!)

Time: Errm...Started back in about 2005 and then stuck it on my computer and forgot about it until now...Spent about two days writing more and sprucing it up...

Summary: Chris is Wyatt's younger brother. He's the ignored one. The abandoned one. The one who's forgotten. Wyatt doesn't forget Chris though. Wyatt wants something more than just a filial relationship though....

Dedication: Someone....who cares....-has no idea who or what inspired this- .

A/N: Basically my interpretation on the relationship of Chris and Wyatt, set in the intervening years after Chris was born. A very macabre take on their relationship with Wyatt being a complete evil bastard that we know he is...And it's all about how Chris is the Forgotten One and Wyatt does the Incest thing because he can...-is makign a right hash of this...- Umm...Again, like CN: KND fic, it's being put on the backburner until I either find isnpirtation or at least until I get some reviews. More likely the latter.

Distribution: Warn me please but then you'll be free to take. Just a word of warning; please don't try and pass it off for your own work. It's unfair and it's not going to help you or me. I don't mind if you stick on the moon if you credit me somewhere even if it's really small at the end. Rant over...For now.

"Disclaimer: I do not own {Charmed}, and I do not make any money from these writings."

Though it seems some people cannot read and have decided that I don't have the right disclaimer. May I point you in the direction of the topic which you created: "Disclaimer: I do not own {FANDOM}, and I do not make any money from these writings." Yeah well...I don't own it used to be good enough...

When a Child is Born – Chapter One

When a child is born, it is a great occasion for all involved. For the parents it is a chance to show love and affection to a product of their love, to share and rejoice in caring for someone they created. Together. For the relatives it is a chance to spoil the child, shower them with gifts and presents and to pass on knowledge and skills, stories and tales from their youth, to enjoy the child. For the child, it is a time to live, to enjoy the love and gifts bestowed upon them. Every birthday after that should be the same.

And that's exactly what Wyatt got...And I didn't.

I am sure many people can remember a birthday party they had, at least one if not more. I can remember my brother's. There were toys and guests and fairies and Elders and cake and many games. He was six, and I was three I think. My mother placed me in the play pen, even though I was meant to be too old for it. "We don't want Wyatt's big day to be spoiled, do we?" Mummy told me, as she put me in there. I was quite happy to play by myself, all the other children being too old for me to play with. They were all five and six year olds from the magic school, the friends of my brother. I didn't mind. I was quite content to play with my toy cars and to talk to my bear. I just pretended and the mind of a three year old is full of ideas to pretend with. I can remember watching my Mummy and Daddy holding Wyatt, and Aunt Phoebe and Aunt Paige with Uncle Coop and Uncle Darren touching them as the man who my father called an Elder blessed them. The lights from the ceiling were gold and silver, and people came down with the fire – it was my Grams and Nana. And then there was hundreds of the women, all of them smiling at the family, all bunched together. I was still in my play pen, in the living room away from where the Elder and the family were. I thought it was a birthday thing. Something that Wyatt would get now and I would get on my birthday. I can remember watching the faces of my family, shining and smiling in the light from the spirits surrounding them, the scene looking perfect. Whole. Without me. But I was too young to realise it, to remember that I too should have been there.

I was only three...

Just approaching my fourth birthday and I can remember thinking that I wanted the same thing. I wanted the same kinds of toys and I wanted an Elder to come to bless me and my family and I wanted to cut the cake and enjoy it so completely, so totally that I would remember it forever. That night, I remember I prayed hard. I must have knelt beside my bed for nearly an hour, praying to have such a present filled, such a wild party. It was every child's dream. It was Wyatt's dream come true. It was my dream. But it was only a dream.

I can remember my fourth birthday like it was yesterday. I'm told no child can remember that far back, but I can. Something to do I suppose with being a witch. But anyway, I arrived downstairs, hoping for the chocolate chip pancakes my mother made for my brother's birthday. I was already imagining the taste, the feel and the smell as I arrived in the kitchen, expecting a hug and a big "Happy Birthday!" Just like the one Wyatt got. I wasn't expecting any different. I was four that day and I knew magic could do anything. What else was I to expect? I knew in my heart nothing could spoil my day. I wouldn't let it.

I didn't. They did. My mother was leaning over the stove, cooking away at a big cauldron. The one used for potions. There were hundreds of bottles and jars and bits of herbs littering the countertops, the island in the middle of the kitchen covered in them. As I walked into the room, the smell wafted over me. It wasn't the smell of a freshly done chocolate chip pancake or the smell of a freshly iced chocolate chip birthday cake. I don't think I'll ever forget that smell; it haunts my nightmares for some reason, bleeding into them. It's the smell of blood, iron and cold and it never fails to make me remember my fourth birthday. My mother was brewing a potion for the capture of a demon, a creature of evil. I thought that she was just pretending, or maybe it was a cover up to hide my birthday cake. That smell is distinctive and I thought they were playing a joke. I thought they would pretend they didn't know until I mentioned it. They did the same thing to my brother. I knew that they wouldn't carry it on long though. They didn't for Wyatt. So I said, "Hi, Mummy!" I was ready to have the joke revealed to me, to see it end, and my mother to turn around, and present me with a hug and a "Happy Birthday, Peanut!" I was four, not a genius. It never came...

She waved her hand at me, "Go and talk to your brother or something. I'm busy right now."

I tried to catch her attention but she didn't even look at me. Just waved the spoon at me, and told me to get a shift on. I can remember the potion hitting my face, just a few drops. I didn't cry out, even though it ate into my skin, and she didn't notice. She just shoved me out. I have never lost the scars from that. Three long scars, from where the potion hit me, where that potion ate my skin. It was just a few drops; I suppose I should count myself lucky that she didn't have a full ladle full. I could have been blinded. I tried to get my father, an Elder to heal it but he never did. He was playing with my brother, swinging him up and down in his arms while my brother laughed and shrieked in his arms. He didn't even look at me when I came into the room. He never does. Not now, not ever. I think he pretends he doesn't see me most of the time.

I left them playing. I told myself I never wanted to play with them anyway. I never wanted to play with the Twice-Blessed child anyway. I never did, I told myself. I pretended in my heart and I faked it. I wanted nothing more to play those games with my brother, and my father. I wanted to watch a video, to be swung up in his arms, to read with him, I wanted to be special to my dad. I wanted to be someone he wanted to be with; my aunts Phoebe and Paige, or my mother, or my grandfather or even my brother. I would give anything to be there.

I can remember sitting on the stairs, waiting for the joke to end. Waiting for someone to tell me "Happy Birthday!" and to tell me it was all over, that I could have presents and cake, and an Elder would bless me and my family. I can remember smelling that potion, feeling the burning sensation of the potion eating into my skin, the sound of my brother's and my father's laughter filling my ears. Where was my cake, my presents? At that point I would have settled for a cupcake and a candle.

It never came.

My mother left the house with her sisters, my aunts by Orbing. My father took my brother outside in the garden, and I was left alone on the stairs. I wanted nothing more than to cry and throw a tantrum and to get my presents. I was a four year old. Not as powerful as my brother but I still counted for something. I was still my parent's son, wasn't I? I deserved a party as much as he did, didn't I? I'd been so good, I'd tried so hard to stay out of trouble, not to reveal my powers to mortals, to stay away from Demons, not to mess around with the Book of Shadows or the potion ingredients. I hadn't begged for sweets or asked for extra presents in the run up to my birthday. I'd been sure to be extra good so Mummy and Daddy would be proud of me, and they would throw the best party for me. I was four not a genius, I didn't know how the world went around.

I sat there for hours, wondering when it would happen, when the joke would end. I think I finally accepted it when the clock struck midday and no-one came for me. When there was no presents, no party, and my aunts' husbands didn't come home. I think I went to my room, and I sat in my special corner. I liked to sit there, you could see the whole room but no-one could see you unless you stuck a foot out or something. I know that I didn't. I didn't want to be found.

I slept, and only woke up when the clock struck midnight. I was four years old. And no-one but me cared. Suddenly footsteps were across the hall, and then in my room. Peering out from my corner, I came face to face with Wyatt. He was a big seven year old, I'd heard my father telling Uncle Coop that on Wyatt's birthday. He was tall, taller than me who was still a dinky four year old.

"Mummy doesn't love you." He said, looking at his feet. I remember not believing it, and true to my four year old self, I scoffed.

"Of course Mummy loves me. I'm her son too."

"Then why didn't you get a birthday party? Or a cake? Or an Elder? Or even a Happy Birthday?" He smiled at me. Even at that age, he had the evil smirk down pat. It didn't look threatening on a seven and a half year old but to a four year old witch, the son of an Elder and a Charmed One, not much did unless it came with a demonic set of powers. "Daddy said, he couldn't be bothered with all that. He said he didn't love you either."

"Daddy loves me." A four year old's conviction.

"Then why didn't he heal you? Why doesn't he play games with you? Why doesn't he do anything with you at all?" Wyatt leaned closer to me. "Why can't he look at you?"

"I...It..." I couldn't explain. I was four and a child, and a confused one at that. Teetering on the brink of crying, and in the face of the 'older brother' superior knowledge I was powerless.

"Happy Birthday, Chris." He left, his laughter just an echo on the breeze as the door closed behind him.

I was four years old and I'd had my first brush with my brother's evil side. He was seven, and already could play the games that few could or would. All I remember after that is crying. And praying that perhaps this would be the only time.

It wasn't the only time.

Hey, you lot~!

Just me cross posting like with the rest of my stuff. And on other note, did you see the nice big disclaimer up there? It's to ward off nice mods who aren't happy with my disclaimers. Hopefully that'll do it!

Erm...Not much else to tell you on this. Seriously, please review, the next chapter should be posted very soon, within the week I should think, and other than that...

Review please! I think is all that's left to say!

Adios!