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Wyatt was almost two. He doesn’t remember this very clearly, but he does remember it: it was important. There was a man in black who was called Gideon, and the tall man who smelled like home was there, too. The man in black stabbed the man Wyatt loved.
Wyatt remembers he thought, no. He remembers, back then, the power was less controlled; it was more what he was, not what he thought. The magic was not a thing of laws, but a thing of wishing.
He remembers that he had wanted, and when he wanted, things came true.
He had wanted Chris, safe and whole. Chris, who loved him, and wanted him, against all things.
His magic did the best thing it could. The closest thing.
Wyatt Halliwell is twice-blessed, and the wielder of Excalibur. That’s nothing to sneeze at.
-
Mel is born when Wyatt is five and a half. She has a red squished up face, and she cries a lot.
Chris just blinks at her, because he is a baby, but Wyatt gets to hold her in his arms - just for a moment, and with Mom hovering ready to catch her, but still. She is so small; she’s warm and smells funny and he loves her.
Oh wow, says the older Chris, the one who sits with Wyatt late at night, the Chris Wyatt keeps in his heart. Look at that. That’s a new one.
-
Clarence is an angel of death. He’s a nice guy. He checks in on Wyatt pretty often, just to make sure everything is okay. Wyatt likes him a lot.
He is the only other person who can see Big Chris. Sometimes, he and Big Chris have conversations that Wyatt can’t hear. But there is nothing Wyatt can’t hear, not if he puts his mind to it, so he sits and listens and makes sure they won’t know he’s done it.
You can move on, says Clarence. You deserve the rest.
No, Big Chris says. I want to see it, this thing I did. The world I made.
-
When Wyatt is eight, Big Chris says, Wyatt, can you do me a favour? I want to talk to Grandpa.
Wyatt blinks, but sure. it feels like sneezing, a little bit, like it stings, but that’s okay. Big Chris wanted it, so Wyatt will make it happen.
Little Chris holds his hand and then they build a very high tower out of Lego. When Grandpa comes back he is wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand, and he leans down and kisses the top of Wyatt’s head and says, Love you, kiddo. You’re doing good.
After that, when Wyatt can’t find Big Chris, he usually just checks Grandpa’s. Big Chris doesn’t like to leave the manor, but he makes exceptions for Grandpa.
-
It’s like having an imaginary friend. But better, because Big Chris knows stuff, like about the world and how it works. He knows exactly what to say to Mom to get her not to stress; he knows what Little Chris is actually mad about, when he gets frustrated and yells that nobody loves him and he’s the worst.
He doesn’t really know about Melinda, but he’ll guess, and between the two of them they can usually work it out.
Sorry, bud, Big Chris says apologetically, when Mel throws a potted plant at them with her TK. I definitely thought it was about her stuffed bear.
“It’s okay,” Wyatt says. “We tried.”
Also, Big Chris can’t touch things. But that’s because he’s a ghost, and because once Wyatt made it so he could, but it made Wyatt so fuzzy he had to lie down, and Big Chris got really worried and told him never to do it again. Big Chris is very big on worrying, just like Little Chris, but it really wasn’t very nice at all so Wyatt decided to let him be right.
Little Chris is jealous, sometimes. He thinks that Wyatt loves other people more than him; he thinks that everyone in their family loves someone more than him. It’s hard, because Wyatt is supposed to be King Arthur’s heir, and Mel is the baby, and Little Chris is just Little Chris, who is sullen and bitey sometimes and not nearly as fun as Big Chris, even though it’s not his fault.
Little Chris hasn’t ever seen Big Chris; Wyatt can’t tell Little Chris about him. Big Chris said, don’t tell them about me, it’ll make it too hard for him, and for them, and Wyatt trusts Big Chris. Big Chris died to save him, after all.
He thinks, isn’t it hard for you? but he knows Big Chris; he knows that to ask the question would hurt more.
---
When Mel is seven, she brings home a stray cat. It has green eyes. Mom thinks it has fleas but Wyatt likes it; it sees both of the Chrises, and twines around their ankles. It follows Big Chris like he’s fascinating, can even be distracted from the lure of food if he’s in the room. Mom sighs and says a spell to make sure it isn’t a demon.
Big Chris tries to pretend he doesn’t like it, but he does. When he thinks Wyatt isn’t looking, he’ll bend to scratch it behind the ears, rub its belly and smile when it purrs.
Mel says, “He’s kind of sad, you know.”
Wyatt looks at her, sideways. He is still trying to figure his baby sister out. They haven’t known each other for very long. “Yeah,” he says. “He is.”
She blinks at him, very calm. “Salem likes him. I do, too.”
“He’s a secret,” Wyatt says, kneeling down, so they can be eye to eye. “You know that, right?”
“Our secret,” Mel says, chin straight, sticking out her hand for Wyatt to shake. “I promise.”
-
Big Chris does not like to leave the manor. He says it makes him feel shaky, less real. But sometimes he goes to sit at the top of the Golden Gate Bridge. Sometimes, he lets Wyatt come with him.
The wind rushes through Wyatt’s hair and he hugs his knees. It’s cold up here, but it’s nice. He understands why Big Chris likes it here. It’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.
Not that Wyatt doesn’t like the rest of the world. He does. It’s just: he has a lot of responsibilities, already. Mom tries to keep him safe, insulated, but he can hear them calling out for him.
He has to help. If he doesn’t, whatever happens to them - it’s his fault.
Big Chris looks at him, startled, and puts his hand on Wyatt’s shoulder. “Oh, Wy,” he says. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“I just want to help,” Wyatt says. “I just want everyone to be safe.”
Big Chris shudders. He looks like he looks when he’s talking to Grandpa, sometimes, or when Mom talks about Excalibur. “Wy,” he says, something sharp and brittle in his voice. “That’s not your job, okay? It’s not what you have to do.”
Wyatt blinks. “Are you mad at me?”
“No,” says Big Chris; he is in Wyatt’s heart, Wyatt can feel him. Wyatt knows he’s telling the truth. “It’s just - Wy. I just want you to be careful, okay? You don’t have to save the world.”
Wyatt shrugs, looking out at the city. “Okay.”
“It’s okay,” Big Chris says. “We’re just going to stop the voices until you’re a little older, all right? When you’re old enough to handle them.”
Wyatt trusts him. “Okay,” he says.
Wyatt has started to dream about fire. Not all the time, not overwhelmingly, but - just sometimes, once in a while. There is so much fire, and everyone is so sad.
He wakes up and Big Chris is sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at Wyatt like he gets it, like he understands.
They don’t talk about it, but Big Chris just puts his arm around Wyatt’s shoulders and kisses the top of his head, and it’s nice, you know? It’s okay. Big Chris makes Wyatt believe that he can face anything. That he doesn’t have to, though, because Big Chris will be there too, to keep him safe.
-
Mel loves Big Chris but she’s scared of him, a little; she doesn’t want to talk to him without Wyatt, and even then she stays close to Wyatt’s side.
“He doesn’t think I exist,” she says, very quiet. “He likes me, but he doesn’t trust me. He thinks I’m going to disappear.”
In her lap, Salem purrs.
Wyatt reaches out to scratch the cat behind the ears. “I know,” he says. “He’s still getting used to you, I think.”
“Well,” Mel says, firm, “you should tell him he can trust me. I’m not going anywhere, and I won’t let him down.”
Big Chris teaches Mel to teach Salem to sit. He is patient with her; even Wyatt can’t be that patient.
Salem puts up with it with a long-suffering air; I’m only doing this because I remember what it was like to eat garbage.
Wyatt relays the message and both of them laugh: a bright, loud laugh that sounds like Mom’s.
“I never had a sister,” Big Chris says, petting Salem behind the ears. “So I don’t really know what to do.”
“Don’t be dumb,” Mel says. “You have me.” She shrugs. “You’re not like, amazing or anything, but you can stay.”
---
When Wyatt is thirteen, he finally asks the question.
Little Chris is starting to look like Big Chris: they have the same eyes, and the same floppy hair. Sometimes when Big Chris is watching Little Chris he smiles, sort of fondly, but also sadly, like he is seeing the end of something, like he is close to something he can never touch and wants to, a lot.
Wyatt crosses his arms across his chest and stares at his feet. “Are you scared of me?” He means to keep looking down but he can’t help it. He wants to see Big Chris’ face.
“No,” Big Chris says. He looks cagey, like Little Chris, that time he broke Wyatt’s toy robot and tried to blame it on baby PJ.
Wyatt says, “Are you lying to me?”
“No,” says Big Chris, putting his hands in his pockets.
Wyatt blinks at him. He’s getting good at it, this big-eyed innocent thing. Little Chris is really bad at it, because everyone knows he’ll try to get you to do what he wants, but Wyatt is convincing because Wyatt is so nice.
Big Chris sighs. “Okay,” he says. “Come here.”
Wyatt sits next to him on the edge of the bed, so their knees bump together. Sometimes Big Chris is more stable than other times. Today he feels very real. “You look scared sometimes,” he says. “Sometimes I feel you dreaming.”
“Oh, buddy,” says Big Chris. He wraps an arm around Wyatt and hugs him, very close; Wyatt can hear the sound of his heart, which is apparently beating, today. “It’s not you, okay? It’s not you.”
“It’s Wyatt,” Wyatt says, because he has heard Big Chris’ dreams, and it is Big Chris he keeps in his heart. “There isn’t another me.”
“There are two Chrises,” says Big Chris, as though that explains anything at all. “It’s like that, okay?”
He looks tired, all of a sudden, and old. Wyatt didn’t think he would, ever. Big Chris hasn’t aged, not as far as Wyatt can tell. He always looks exactly the same.
“Before Little Chris was born, I came back in time to save the world. It worked; I saved you. But the world I changed isn’t the world I left; I couldn’t go home, and so I died. But you saved me.”
“You saved me first,” Wyatt says, and then he looks down at his hands, which are trembling. “I was the thing that was bad in the future you came from,” he realizes; slowly, inevitably, like the sun coming up over the Bay. “I was the thing you saved the world from.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Big Chris says, wrapping his arm tighter, like if he is stronger and more real what he’s saying won’t mean what it does. “You were just a baby when it happened. It was an Elder - he tried to kill you. In the world I come from, you were lost for weeks, alone. It made you scared and brittle and protective of very few things. And then things got worse, and you ruled the world. And I had to stop you.”
Wyatt swallows. His tongue feels too big in his mouth. “How do you know it worked?”
Big Chris breathes out, like a prayer. “You’re here,” he says. “You’re good.”
Wyatt made him; Wyatt saved him.
He knows what Big Chris is not saying and it is this: I don't know. But I’m here to make sure.
-
Wyatt’s best friends are Little Chris and Big Chris and Mel, because they’re family. But outside of that, Wyatt’s best friend is Seth. Seth is half-manticore, and goes to Magic School with Wyatt. When they were babies they were friends, and they’ve been friends ever since.
When they were littler everyone tried to stop them being friends, because Seth is half-demon and Wyatt is the future of good magic, but Wyatt would just orb to Seth’s and Seth would shimmer to his. That’s how friendship works.
Seth makes Big Chris nervous. He paces around and asks Wyatt if Wyatt is really sure and spends twenty-minute intervals glaring at the back of Seth’s head. It used to make Wyatt mad: Seth is great, and nobody but Wyatt trusts him, and it’s because of who his mom was, and that’s not fair.
Now Wyatt understands it. Because Seth is part demon and Wyatt once killed everyone, Big Chris thinks that if Wyatt and Seth are friends, Wyatt and Seth will team up to kill everyone and take over the world.
“When you put it like that,” Big Chris says.
“It does sound pretty dumb,” Wyatt says. “Just so you know.”
Big Chris rolls his eyes. “Just be careful,” he says.
“You would like him if you got to know him,” Wyatt says, because it’s true. Everyone likes Seth, even Mel and Little Chris, and Little Chris is super prickly and doesn’t like anyone, these days.
“He can’t see me,” Big Chris says. “I’m not family.”
“I’m just saying that it would be nice,” Wyatt says. “He’s funny. You would get along.”
The thing is, it’s still - stuck. In his chest. Being annoying, like sand in an oyster shell, or a rock in Wyatt’s shoe. It’s Big Chris; Big Chris has always loved Wyatt. Big Chris is the person who is always on Wyatt’s side.
Wyatt knows how to make sure Big Chris won’t suddenly show up. It’s not a spell, really, not mind control or anything, just a suggestion. If he really needed Wyatt Big Chris could find him.
“Hey,” Seth says. “C’mon, Wy, what’s up? Spit it out.” He’s got dark hair, like both the Chrises, but his is curly and his eyes are brown. Sometimes he holds Wyatt’s hand and something flips over in Wyatt’s chest, something warm and thrilling and secret, just for him.
Wyatt stretches out his legs on Seth’s bed. He has red sheets, like, dark red, and they contrast harsh against Wyatt’s jeans. He chews his lower lip. “Is it weird thinking you could be evil?”
“Ouch,” Seth says. “Harsh.” He bumps his shoulder against Wyatt’s to take the sting from it.
“Not you,” Wyatt says, poking Seth’s cheek. “You’re a saint, obviously.” Seth is sensitive about it; when they were little he was always the one talking Wyatt out of trouble. When Wyatt was nine, he and Big Chris figured out how to make Seth’s tongue normal, and that’s helped, but not that much. “It’s about - me.”
“What?” Seth blinks. “You’re you. You’re Wyatt Halliwell.”
“I don’t know,” Wyatt says. He looks down at Seth’s hands, in Seth’s lap. Seth bites his fingernails and the beds of his nails are red and raw. “Sometimes I think, what if I wasn’t? Nobody could stop me. It’s scary.”
Seth sighs, thoughtful. He wraps an arm around Wyatt’s shoulders and pulls him in, very gently.
Wyatt leans against him, head on Seth’s shoulder, waiting. Seth smells like Old Spice and faintly of sweat; there’s something else underneath it all which probably means manticore, but Wyatt kind of likes it. It’s special, like Seth.
“I dunno,” Seth says. “I think you should probably check your ego, Wy. I mean, don’t go nuts or anything, you could do a lot of damage if you wanted to. But you’re not unstoppable.”
Wyatt thinks about Big Chris, the look in his eyes. He had to come back in time to save the world from the other Wyatt. The bad one.
He didn’t kill me, Big Chris had said. He could have, but he didn’t.
“I guess,” Wyatt says.
Seth wrinkles his nose, and presses a kiss to his cheek. “Cheer up, loser,” he says. “No way would it happen. You love being right way too much.”
Wyatt’s heart does that stupid thing it’s been doing lately, around Seth. He blushes bright red and tackles Seth into a tickle fight and that’s the end of that.
-
Wyatt doesn’t tell anyone else about what Big Chris told him. Mel is a baby, she’s too little; Little Chris is eleven and, Mom says, getting started on puberty early, which means he’s angry all the time and thinks they hate him. It wouldn’t help to know about Big Chris, or that Wyatt has kept this really big secret from Little Chris for all this time, even if was for Little Chris’ own good.
Mom and Dad and the aunts are way out: Big Chris would never forgive him. If Big Chris wanted them to know, he would have told them.
There’s nothing they could say to Wyatt that Big Chris hasn’t said already, anyway. You’re not evil, you were saved.
That’s not the thing in question, but then again, none of them were evil, so it’s not like they would understand.
He takes Little Chris to the beach with him. It’s not like he can apologize: I’m sorry a future version of me is so evil a future version of you had to come back and stop me, and die trying. And I’m sorry I’ve never told you, and I don’t think I ever will.
Little Chris is faintly suspicious but nothing bad happens; they just throw rocks into the water and Wyatt buys them ice-cream from a truck and it’s nice. Wyatt loves Little Chris, even when he is being a total pain in the ass.
If Wyatt had to travel back in time to save Little Chris from going evil, Wyatt is pretty sure he would do it.
Somehow, thinking that eases the pressure in Wyatt’s chest, just a little.
Grandpa says, “Someone said we should have a talk.”
Wyatt blinks. “Big Chris,” he says.
Grandpa blinks back and then he laughs. “That’s smart,” he says. “I’ve been calling them future and present.”
“Big Chris is really tall,” Wyatt says, by way of explanation. He swallows. “How did he convince you not to tell Mom and Dad?”
Grandpa shrugs. “Easy,” he says. “He’s always loved me most.”
Wyatt says, “Okay.”
Grandpa sighs and ruffles Wyatt’s hair. “It’s scary,” he says. “I was scared, when Chris told me. The first Chris.”
“Everyone tells me I’m supposed to be, like, the best thing,” Wyatt says, quiet. “The most good. Like, I’m supposed to save the world and be King Arthur. And that’s scary, like, all that pressure? But this is worse.”
Grandpa sits, very still. “He changed the future,” he says. “So you’re - we think you’re safe.”
Wyatt shrugs. “I don’t think I’ll ever be safe,” he says. “I guess I always thought, like, destiny. It’ll work itself out. But I could be bad. I could be really bad, Grandpa.” His stomach hurts, remembering the look in Big Chris’ eyes. Dark, and hollow, and so, so sad.
Wyatt had done that. Not him, but - a Wyatt, somewhere.
Grandpa hugs him, very close. He smells like soap and, very faintly, cloves. “Here’s the thing, buddy; the Halliwells, they’re all good. They think that’s the only way to be. But it’s not. And it’s not normal to think that you can’t be bad, that you might not fall from grace. That’s what we all do.” He kisses Wyatt’s forehead. “But I believe in you, kiddo. I think you can do this. I think you can be brave.”
-
Big Chris looks at Mom like she is the most important person to ever live. Wyatt loves Mom, too, but not like Big Chris does: like she’s air, like she’s the sun.
Wyatt wishes she could see him. He remembers that when he was little, she loved Big Chris, too.
Now that he knows about where Big Chris came from, he thinks he understands Mom a little better. And Dad, too.
Sometimes, when they don’t think he is looking, they flinch.
That’s okay. Wyatt understands it now. He thinks it is fair.
Wyatt is a happy kid. He loves his Mom and his Dad, and his little brother and little sister, and his grandpa, and his entire pack of annoying cousins and aunts and uncles. He even loves all the ghosts, too. But none of them as much as he loves the brother he brought back from the end of the world.
-
Excalibur gleams. Wyatt loves it; it speaks to his blood, to his bones. He’s not supposed to spend much time with it so he doesn’t. It makes Mom nervous, and it makes Big Chris nervous.
Sometimes, though, he just goes and sits in the attic, and watches the way sunlight falls. The dust motes circle around Excalibur’s hilt and he thinks: someday.
He doesn’t say that out loud. He couldn’t, ever. He wouldn’t do that to Big Chris. But it is sometimes a consolation to think - not act, never act - that if he wanted it, Excalibur would sing into his hand, and nothing could stand against them.
-
The first time Seth kisses Wyatt, he puts both hands on either side of Wyatt’s face and says, “If you went evil I swear I’d stop you.”
It’s funny, Wyatt thinks, that this is what he hears as I love you. He laughs, like, thank you, and kisses Seth.
Somewhere, he thinks, Big Chris is probably having a paroxysm; but right now, here, Wyatt Halliwell is holding Seth’s hand and kissing his lips, and Seth has promised to kill him if he has to, and everything in the world is looking pretty good.
---
Big Chris spends all of Little Chris’ fourteenth birthday looking like he’s going to be sick. He gets even more neurotic than he normally is, fluttering around over Wyatt and Mel’s shoulders, and then around the entrance to the manor, and he keeps looking at Mom and yelling every time she needs something, which is ridiculous because Mom yells loud enough for herself.
“Can you chill out?” Mel says, the third time Big Chris tells them that something is wrong with the balloons and they need to be reinflated, and also are they sure about the wards because he thinks they could be like, a little stronger.
Grandpa narrows his eyes at her and tells her to go help Mom with the cake. “Hey, buddy,” he says to Wyatt. “Can you take me and Mr Big somewhere for a little?”
“Okay,” Wyatt says.
He takes them to the park Big Chris likes, the one with the angel statue, and goes to get Little Chris’ present from where he’s hidden it at Magic School. It is a pair of wings that Wyatt enchanted himself, with Big Chris’ help.
When Grandpa calls him back, both Big Chris and Grandpa look stressed and thin, but better.
Everything is fine. The party is a disaster but every Halliwell party is a disaster. There is only one demon, which Mom vanquishes very neatly, and the cake is fantastic, and Little Chris loves his wings.
A good day, all things considered. Even Salem doesn’t complain: he just twines around Big Chris’ ankles and purrs.
Wyatt does what he does every year: a cupcake, on the top of the Golden Gate Bridge. “I’m sorry we didn’t throw you a party,” he says.
Mel dangles her feet off the edge of the bridge. Her hair is streaming back, in the wind. Big Chris casts a wary eye in her direction, but it’s okay; Wyatt’s got half his mind ready to catch her in a moment, and she can orb herself home, no problem.
“It’s fine,” Big Chris says. He sighs. “My mom died on my fourteenth birthday.”
“Oh,” Wyatt says. “Oh.” He puts his hands in his pockets and stares at his feet, thinking about a world where there isn’t any more Mom. It’s really scary. It makes him feel sick and empty inside. Mom is the best: Mom makes you soup when you’re sick, and yells at everyone who’s mean to you, and loves you more than anyone else. “I’m sorry.” Then, because he has to, “Was it my fault?”
Big Chris blinks, and barks a little laugh: surprise, though, not sorrow. “Jesus,” he says. “That’s - no. It wasn’t your fault. Not even the other you’s fault. Probably the last bad thing that happened that the other Wyatt didn’t cause, but. He wouldn’t have. Not ever.”
“Good,” Wyatt says. “I mean, not. Good. But. Not worse.”
It’s pretty awful, though, to know that there’s something he and the other Wyatt have in common.
Wyatt curls his fingers into fists and stares out at the city; breathe in, breathe out. You’re here. You’re safe. You’re good.
---
This is the year Wyatt took over the world. The other Wyatt, not this one. This Wyatt is trying to not fail math, which is difficult, because math is fucking stupid.
Big Chris is trying to help him, and so is Dad, but Wyatt just doesn’t get it. Parabolas don’t make any sense, and they don’t have anything to do with magic, anyway.
“What if I just took over the world,” Wyatt says. “Then we wouldn’t have to do math anymore.”
“Definitely a good call,” says Seth, tangling their ankles together. “Sounds reasonable to me. Let’s put together an army, right now.”
Wyatt sometimes dreams about ash, sticking to the roof of his mouth. They aren’t his dreams, though. In his own dreams he wouldn’t see his own face.
In his own dreams, he wouldn’t watch himself burn down the world, helpless, alone.
Wyatt is not going to take over the world. Even if math fucking sucks.
He is not the other Wyatt. They are not the same person.
Wyatt is good. He is going to stay that way.
He undoes the spell that stops him hearing all the people asking for help. He’s old enough, he thinks. He can help people. He can save the world. If Big Chris did it, Wyatt can too.
-
Wyatt’s been pretty tired, lately. It’s not like, weird or anything. He has a pretty full schedule, with the demon hunting and Little Chris’ most recent crisis about the family not all eating dinner together as much means they don’t love each other, anymore. Big Chris is worried but Big Chris worries all the time: worrying is what Chrises do.
Seth gets him these face masks to help the bags under his eyes but they don’t really do anything, mostly because Mel tells Wyatt he looks stupid and Wyatt has to wash them off and go chase her.
Except, then, Wyatt and Little Chris are in the library at Magic School, and Wyatt collapses onto the tabletop into a pool of his own blood.
I’m killing you, Big Chris says, urgent. Wyatt, I’m not supposed to be here. I thought - you’re not as powerful as you were when I grew up but I thought it was just normal. But it’s me. I’m too much. You have to let me go.
Wyatt sits, very still. His head hurts and his mouth feels like cotton.
“No,” he says.
He says it with the weight of the world. With the weight of Excalibur. He did not know his voice could do that but it’s like, nothing could stand against him. That is not even an option. He thinks if he spoke in this voice he could stop the sun.
His brother looks at him and Wyatt thinks, he has never seen anyone look so brave. You’re going to die, Wyatt. I don’t want that.
But Wyatt shakes his head again, all the same. “You’re not going anywhere, Chris.”
“One selfish choice is all it takes,” says Aunt Paige, to a classroom of teenagers.
Wyatt’s stomach twists but he doesn’t care.
-
It’s easier now that Wyatt knows what’s going on. He’s tired because he’s generating a bubble universe, and keeping a future alternate version of his brother alive.
And he feels like shit because he’s lying about it, and his mom and aunts are checking the Book of Shadows for it, and he’s making Mel lie too.
But Wyatt isn’t going to just let him die.
Clarence smiles at him. He says, “It would have killed anyone else.”
Wyatt shrugs. “Human battery pack,” he says. “That’s me.”
It’s easier if Big Chris isn’t around so much. If he just sort of - curls up in Wyatt’s heart and sleeps. That way Wyatt doesn’t have to will him into being every moment of every day.
Grandpa says, “You should tell your mom, Wyatt.”
Wyatt makes sure Big Chris isn’t listening: he’s firmly asleep, locked in the cage of Wyatt’s ribs. “She would kill him,” he says. “You know she would.” She wouldn’t, though. She would make Wyatt do it, because nobody else could.
Wyatt’s brother has already died once for him. Wyatt will not have him do it again. There is a Wyatt who put this Chris through hell: the least this Wyatt can do is not kill him.
Grandpa sighs. “I can’t kill my grandson,” he says. “I can’t watch you die and know I could have stopped it, Wyatt.”
“I know,” Wyatt says. “But I’m okay, honestly. I can work this out.”
It’s Grandpa. Grandpa doesn’t believe in good and evil: he believes in what you do, and why you did it.
This is why Big Chris said Wyatt could trust him, and Wyatt does.
They can manage this, anyway. It is working. Big Chris comes out, sometimes, when he’s needed or when the air smells a certain way. He tries not to do it too much but he has to: that’s what it is, to be alive.
Wyatt drinks a lot of protein shakes.
Halliwells run on guilt, anyway.
Salem thinks Wyatt is doing the right thing. Salem curls up on Wyatt’s chest, where Big Chris is when he’s sleeping, and purrs.
---
When Wyatt is seventeen, Seth dumps him. He does it nicely. It’s Seth; Seth’s nice. Most of the things Seth does are nice.
“You just don’t have time for a boyfriend,” Seth says. “Or energy, honestly. And I don’t know, I don’t think I do, either.”
“And you’re still best friends?” Aunt Paige looks baffled. Her hair is blonde this week, and curling around the nape of her neck.
Big Chris bumps his shoulder against Wyatt’s. “Always liked that demon kid,” he says.
Wyatt chokes on his coffee and has to explain that no, his breakup isn’t funny, he just remembered something else. Not his dead brother from the future’s blatant hypocrisy or anything.
“Space cadet,” says Aunt Paige.
“Just because some of us can civilly break up,” Wyatt says. “Without causing a minor war amongst potato producers.”
“Harsh,” says Aunt Paige. “I tell you one story, about a friend-”
Wyatt stumbles into a demon trap and gets sent back to the Castro in the 70s. It’s like, kind of a nice rebound trip. Lets him get his head straight, you know?
This family is fucking weird, says Big Chris. He does not look good in a period-appropriate moustache.
Some people go to Cuba, or Cancun. This isn’t that much weirder.
Seth is applying to college, anyway. There’s a magic school in Ireland that wants him.
Wyatt will stay put. Soon he’ll be eighteen, and eligible for charges of his own.
This way, they can still hook up, and it won’t be weird. They don’t have to think about long distance, or anything hard like that. They can just have a lot of sex and be very chill.
“Gross,” says Little Chris. Little Chris is resolutely uninterested in girls, or boys, or anything but books about magic.
(I remember that, says Big Chris, fondly. Just wait for it.)
-
Big Chris won’t tell Wyatt about stuff that’s in the future. Only things that have changed, or big things, like Wyatt being evil. Which Wyatt supposes is both a big thing, and a thing that has changed. (Fingers crossed, salt over your shoulder.)
Wyatt is just saying, he could have used a heads up that the assassin witches were not for vanquishing, before Big Chris yanked him backwards into a wall and let them get away.
A daughter of the Phoenix clan comes to the manor seeking aid for all of her family, in a war they have inadvertently gotten in the middle of. The Charmed Ones agree to help, though Dad gets lines around his mouth and Uncle Henry sighs heavily.
Her name is Bianca. She’s short, and beautiful, and makes Mom very nervous, and twitchy, and prone to explosions. She’s nineteen years old, and so smart it hurts.
She and Little Chris get along like anything, even though they are technically on opposite sides of the moral polarity.
Always had a knack for mediation, Big Chris says. And I guess this me is a middle child, too.
---
Wyatt turns eighteen and pulls the sword from the stone. Big Chris shudders, inside Wyatt’s heart, but it’s just a sword. A beautiful, powerful sword, but just a sword, when it comes down to it. Just a weapon. It only does what it was made to do.
In my universe, Big Chris says, the sky split open when you took the sword.
“How old was I when I did that?” Wyatt asks.
Big Chris looks away. Sixteen. It was more about the expediency of the thing, though.
Wyatt knows that look: the way Big Chris’ mouth turns down at the edges. “Because Mom was dead.”
Big Chris shrugs. Yeah, he says. It was still impressive, though.
There is a part of Wyatt that knows he is supposed to be stronger. That he could take what he wanted, that he should take what he wants; that if he just decided to do it everything would be his. But he has bound himself, for his brother’s sake, and that is the choice he will always make.
(Well, apparently not in every universe.
But this is the universe in which Wyatt can make his own choices, so he does.)
-
Bianca leaves the Phoenix clan and stays in the guest room, but really mostly on the futon in Little Chris’ room. Mom and Dad aren’t thrilled, but he’s the only person she trusts, and Little Chris busts out a really good speech about how they’re a family that helps people and that has to come first. He’s a manipulative little fuck, but he’s good at it, so it works. Even Wyatt tears up a little.
Bianca corners Wyatt on the third day, dark-eyed and gleaming with very sharp metal. “Wyatt,” she says. “There’s a guy who looks an awful like Chris who lives here. But nobody talks to him.”
Oh, fuck, says Big Chris.
“Yeah, you,” Bianca says, looking right at him.
Our timelines must have crossed, Big Chris says. That’s the only explanation-
“Okay, buddy,” Bianca says. Her dagger is out, bright at her waist. “Who the hell are you?”
Wyatt gets in between them faster than light moves. “Chill,” he says. “Bianca, chill out.”
“You know who I am,” says Big Chris, hands up, palms open. “Look at me. You know.”
“I was four,” Bianca says. She is shaking, very slightly. Wyatt can only tell because he is looking very hard. “You were - in my living room.”
Big Chris half-smiles. “I thought I saw someone.”
“I thought you died,” Bianca says.
“I didn’t,” Big Chris says. “Wyatt saved me.”
Bianca does not like Big Chris. She is wary of him, like a cat, except mostly cats love him. She does not dislike him, but she chooses, primarily to avoid him. And Wyatt, too.
She does not tell Little Chris, though.
“It would make him sad,” she says. “And it doesn’t matter, anyway. It’s not my secret to tell.”
Big Chris watches her and he looks so sad, sometimes. Like she is the sun and moon and stars.
Wyatt wishes there was something he could do, but that is not within his power.
-
Mel starts dating this guy, who everyone hates. Like, everyone. His name is Chad and he’s a senior at Magic School and he conjures things. He uses a lot of gel in his hair and it looks awful.
“Is he a demon?” Wyatt asks. “Maybe he’s a demon. Chad is a demon name.”
Big Chris sprawls on his back on Wyatt’s bed. “That would make things a lot easier,” he says. “It would be really nice.”
Little Chris says, “What if we just. Dump him in the underworld. And forget to come back for him.”
“Your family is so weird,” says Seth. He is lying with his head on Wyatt’s thigh.
“I think Mel would get mad,” Wyatt says, petting Seth’s hair. It is very soft.
“Did you ever talk about doing this to me?” Seth asks. “Wait, no, don’t answer that.”
Little Chris shrugs. “Bianca doesn’t like him, either. And she’s a good judge of character.”
Big Chris and Wyatt choke. But this is a different Bianca; this one picked Little Chris first, before Wyatt, before everything.
(They did talk about Seth like that. Wyatt knows, because he sat in his bedroom and eavesdropped. Nobody said the demon thing outright, but they thought it. It stung, a little.
Wyatt, this Wyatt, has spent all his life trying to make up for the other one, and that's what he got.)
-
Wyatt’s first charge is a girl in Alberta, Canada. Her name is Carrie: she has a big yellow dog and spends all her time in the snow.
Big Chris flatly refuses to come with. Too cold, he says. No thank you.
In the other universe, Chris and Bianca spent a year in a cave in the dark. His memories are starting to bleed into Wyatt’s. Wyatt's is starting to dream about his own private apocalypse.
It’s weird, because like, he knows exactly what he would have to do, to take over the world.
Nobody should ever have that kind of knowledge, he thinks.
Carrie’s sweet. She teaches him how to make snow angels that move, and listens to him talk about how annoying it is that Seth moved so far away. He saves her from, in descending order of danger: a dragon, a clan of fire demons, one of Bianca’s cousins, and a feral raccoon that’s gotten into her garbage.
Carrie doesn’t know what the Halliwells are, or what it means to be Twice-Blessed, or that once upon a time, in another future, Wyatt ruled the world. It’s nice. It’s like being able to breathe.
-
Chad breaks up with Mel.
Mel cries and eats a tub of ice cream. Wyatt and both Chrises also eat a lot of ice cream. Wyatt has to add an extra three hours at the gym.
“I could kill him,” Wyatt says. He’s mostly kidding. Like, mostly. “It wouldn’t be that hard.” Chad is so fucking obnoxious. Nobody would look too hard to try to find out where he went.
“It would be pretty easy,” Bianca agrees. Her eyes are gleaming like a new polished knife.
“Please stop,” Little Chris says. “This is getting very serious and I don’t want to have to be your alibi.”
Sometimes Wyatt likes Bianca. They have Chris in common, to tell them they are contemplating the wrong choice; they have Chris to see the end result before they act. But it’s nice to have someone else just as caught in the moment as you are.
-
Wyatt is tired. That’s no excuse, but it’s the truth: he’s so tired his vision is blurring, he just wants to collapse into bed and sleep for a year. He and Big Chris went down under to find a thing that was stealing children, and it was very, very messy. He’s so tired the world feels like a dream, and that’s why it happens.
Dad says, “Who are you talking to?”
Wyatt says, “I’m talking to Big Chris.”
He and Big Chris both freeze. Like, they would if Mom’s powers worked on them. Wyatt doesn’t even think he can breathe.
If he was Little Chris, he could totally salvage this. He would think of something funny, like about how Chris is getting tall and he was yelling up the stairs, and Chris was supposed to meet him at home. But Wyatt has just spent two and a half days in the underworld and he needs to lie down and this is absolutely happening, right now. Right now.
This is why Seth told him he needed to sleep more. Seth’s such a dick.
Dad says, “What?”
“Um,” Wyatt says.
There is a Family Meeting. Capital letters and everything. Mel is dispatched to babysit Tam and Kat; Bianca and Little Chris are on a hunt.
“Wyatt,” says Dad. “I can’t believe you would be this irresponsible.”
Grandpa says, “I don’t think that’s fair, Leo.”
Big Chris looks faintly ill. “I don’t think this is a good idea,” he says.
“Me either,” Wyatt says, “but like, what else are we gonna do?” He is not getting exorcised. That has happened way too many times over the course of his childhood, and Big Chris is still here.
Everyone is staring at Wyatt like he’s talking to the air. Which, okay, he is.
“Okay,” Wyatt says. “Here.” He waves his hand, and that’s it.
Boom. Chris.
Magic is different, for Wyatt. Everyone else uses spells, uses guidance; they channel it, ask it to do what they want. That’s not how it works for Wyatt: for Wyatt magic is just what he is. What he wills. He says it, and it is done.
He can understand, sometimes, how the other version of himself might choose to be unbound. Why the idea of freedom might be so intoxicating. Sometimes Wyatt chafes, too, at the idea of limiting himself, with rules, with words. He doesn’t have to; he shouldn't have to. That’s not what he is.
But Big Chris is here, and he died. Wyatt won’t let that happen again. Any binding is worth that.
“Oh my god,” Mom says.
“Chris,” Dad says. “Chris.”
Wyatt can’t help staring. He has never seen his father cry before.
“Hey,” Big Chris says, raising a hand. “Hello.”
Wyatt wants them to be able to touch. He wants it so much he becomes translucent with it, but that’s fine, because Dad gets to hug Big Chris, and Big Chris is crying, too.
-
“The other you would have done anything to save me,” Big Chris says, very softly.
“I guess we have some things in common,” Wyatt says.
He’s not going to grow his hair out, or anything. God, that was a bad look.
He just loves his brother. If something goes wrong because of that, well. it’s just going to have to.
-
Dad says, “How did you do it, Wy?”
Wyatt shrugs. “He’s just always been here,” he says. “I think - I think he died. And I didn’t want him to, so I undid it.”
“Chris needed to grow up without me,” Big Chris says, softly. “I couldn’t haunt him, Dad. And that meant I couldn’t-”
“Oh, Chris,” Mom says, like there was ever a thought that crossed her mind about telling Wyatt who he might have been. “You always set yourself up to be so alone.” She pushes his hair out of his eyes and kisses his cheek.
Mom and Dad have not stopped touching him since he appeared. It makes Wyatt feel a little bit sick but that's okay, he’ll manage.
Big Chris smiles, this wry sharp thing. “Future consequences,” he says, like a joke. “You know I couldn't.”
“I know it was the wrong thing to do,” Wyatt says. “But I couldn’t do anything else and still be me.”
They do not tell Little Chris. Wyatt supposes this makes it a conspiracy.
-
Excalibur is just a sword, but Wyatt tries not to use it too much. It makes Big Chris flinch, to be near.
It’s beautiful, and powerful, but Wyatt doesn’t need it. It’s not like he’s fighting a war.
---
When Wyatt was a baby, like maybe one, maybe not even that, Big Chris stood in the doorway and said, If I can’t save you, I swear to god I’ll stop you.
Wyatt had forgotten about it, but now he remembers.
-
On Wyatt’s twenty-first birthday, his charge in Wyoming gets abducted by a demon that sends you to an alternate universe and then eats the potential energy left behind by your life. Wyatt really should have expected it. It's a miracle he's made it this far without it happening.
Wyatt finds Sid hiding in a pile of rubble in what used to be San Francisco .
Oh fuck no, says Big Chris. Wyatt , we gotta run.
Sid blinks up at him. “Wyatt?”
“Hey,” Wyatt says, offering him a hand up. “Told you I’d always be around.”
It takes a whole pack of demons to catch them. Wyatt is off his game, and Big Chris is rusty.
They are taken to a very dark cave. It smells like rust and old blood.
“Who are you?” says Wyatt, the other Wyatt, who has shoulder-length dirty-blond hair, and eyes like diamonds, but sharper, probably.
“Alternate universe,” Wyatt says, shrugging. “Can, uh, can we go?”
“You have my brother,” says the other Wyatt. “Why do you have my brother?”
Oh shit, says Big Chris.
“We’re the same person,” Wyatt says. His heart hurts. “That’s what it is.”
The other Wyatt looks at him, long and hard. “Prove it,” he says.
Wyatt reaches out; like a mirror, the other Wyatt reaches back.
Their fingers touch. There’s a spark, for a moment, like they could go to war; and then Wyatt lets himself surrender into it.
This is your world. You win.
It washes over him like a wave. It is not as strange as he would have hoped, nor as complex. It is unfortunately simple: it is himself, through a mirror.
He lives that history in a moment; the other Wyatt lives his life, too. Oh Chris, he thinks, bright with love.
The other Wyatt steps back. “Go in peace,” he says.
“What did you see?” Wyatt asks. But he knows: they are one person. One and the same.
“You love our brother,” the other Wyatt says, smiling, very soft. “Keep him safe.”
They join hands, and open a pathway home.
Wyatt sends the demon back the way he came. The other Wyatt is owed a death, he supposes. Or: he knows. Because he was that other Wyatt, and he wanted.
“Are you okay?” Sid asks. He’s skinny and blond, with big dark eyes. He talks to animals. That’s his power. Once, Salem jumped onto his shoulder and refused to come down. “Thank you for coming to get me.”
Wyatt smiles. “That’s my job,” he says.
Sid tilts his head to one side. “Hey,” he says. “You’re not him, you know? You saved me.”
“I know,” Wyatt says, ruffling his hair. “Don’t worry about me, got it? Look after yourself.”
“Okay,” Sid says. “But - you know where I live, if you need me.”
Wyatt hugs him, very quick. “Yeah,” he says. “You just call me and I’ll come.”
-
“He really loves you,” Wyatt says.
Big Chris wraps his arms around himself. “Yeah,” he says. “That’s what made it hurt.”
Wyatt swallows. “I really love you.”
Big Chris closes his eyes. “I love you too, Wy.”
It’s weird. Wyatt knows what it’s like, now. What happened to the other him.
He could do stuff, incredible things. Things Wyatt can’t do.
(Because of me, says Big Chris.
You’re such a martyr, says Wyatt.)
But Wyatt thinks, maybe that’s for the best. He has always had Big Chris, always had the knowledge that his power was needed. That he could not be reckless, because his brother was there, his brother who had died for him.
It's not that Big Chris binds him, exactly; it's that for his sake, Wyatt bound himself.
The thing is: Wyatt is not different from the other Wyatt. They are the same person. They have the same heart.
That’s scary, to think about.
But it’s like. Now he knows. If they were in the same situation, if they had lived the same life, Wyatt would do what the other Wyatt has done.
It’s almost a relief. He will always be on the verge of things: either the greatest good or the greatest evil. There is really not such a great difference, between them. There is no point taking a side.
There is only what you do, and why you did it.
It is a very mortal way of looking at things, but he doesn't mind.
-
“Hey,” Little Chris says. “How was Wyoming?” He is very tall, now, though not quite as tall as Wyatt. His hair falls into his eyes and he has to keep pushing it out. He calls it a look but everyone rolls their eyes, Big Chris included.
“Kind of shitty,” Wyatt says, pouring himself a cup of tea. “Went to an alternate universe where I was like, super evil.”
“Jesus,” Little Chris says. “Like a mirror universe? One of those ones where morality is reversed, right? Those fucking suck.”
Wyatt swallows. “Not quite,” he says. “It was like, pretty much the same as here. The only difference was me.”
Little Chris sighs and puts a teaspoon of sugar into Wyatt’s cup. “You can’t let ‘em get to you,” he says. “You’re not evil, right? That’s the important thing. That’s what matters.”
“Are you sure I’m not evil?” Wyatt’s face reflects back at him in the surface of the liquid. He doesn’t look evil, he doesn’t think. but then again, the other Wyatt didn’t look evil, either. “What even is evil, anyway?”
Little Chris sighs and kisses the top of his head. “Don’t be so maudlin,” he says. “You’re doing just fine.”
The thing is: Wyatt knows that. He is doing fine. He’s a pretty nice guy, and he doesn’t do anything out of malice if he can help it. He helps people, and loves his family.
Morality isn’t what he thought it was, that’s what he learned from the other Wyatt. Good and evil really aren’t anything more than a series of choices, and if you’ve made them, you probably think they’re right.
It’s not a thing he’s going to tell Chris, any Chris, or Mom or Dad. They don't think like he does.
It's like, there is a big picture, but the big picture isn’t Wyatt’s problem: Wyatt’s problem is right now. You do what you think you should, and forget the rest.
-
Only one person can bear Excalibur. Of course it isn’t supposed to be easy. Of course it isn’t supposed to be without difficulty, without temptation.
It is easier to hold, now.
All magic can drive you mad. It is a condition of being alive, that you might fall.
Excalibur can make you crazy, if you are not its bearer. If you are its bearer, you are liable, you are wide open.
Magic doesn’t choose a morality. Only you can do that.
Wyatt is magic itself. He doesn’t have to choose, either. Wyatt's like a mortal, or like Excalibur: just himself.
-
Wyatt orbs to Dublin. It’s cold, and dark.
Seth opens the door. The light is warm behind him, spilling out onto Wyatt’s hands and mouth and very chilly nose. “Took you long enough,” he says. There is something about him; there has always been something about him.
Everyone thought he would be evil but he is not. He is so, so good.
More than that, he is himself. He's smart, and kind, and so beautiful Wyatt's breath catches in his throat, sometimes.
“You could have called,” Wyatt says. He steps forward, but not all the way. Just close enough.
Seth rolls his eyes and leans up to kiss him. He feels just as good as Wyatt remembers. Better, maybe, because now he is real.
“I missed you,” Wyatt says, very soft, against his mouth.
“I know, dumbass,” Seth says. “I missed you, too.”
“You don’t have to be normal around me, you know,” Wyatt says. He is lying crammed into Seth’s tiny twin, Seth pressed up against him all sweaty and warm and alive. “There’s an alternate future where I rule the world. You can have your flicky tongue, if you like.”
“That’s nice of you,” says Seth. He's getting a little bit of a brogue. It's cute. Wyatt likes it. “Really considerate.”
“I’m trying, okay,” Wyatt says.
“I know,” Seth says, kissing his jaw. “It’s hard for you, because you’re perfect.”
“I’m not,” Wyatt says.
“I know,” Seth says, grinning. “But everyone tells you you are. It’s gotta be so confusing.”
“Shut up,” Wyatt says, pulling Seth on top of him, laughing. “You’re so annoying.”
“Only because I’m right,” Seth says, leaning down to kiss him. He uses his weird flicky tongue, so Wyatt supposes that means they got somewhere, after all.
-
Wyatt understands what happened to Big Chris; the scope of it, the enormity. Because he did it. Everything that happened, he did. You killed the world, Wy. You could do it again.
He isn't good and he isn't evil, but he doesn't want to take over the world. It would make his brother sad.
He makes a set of rules for every choice he will face, so he won’t do it again. You just have to make the right choices, and that way you won’t fuck everything up.
“You look better than you used to,” Seth says.
“How did I look before?” Wyatt asks.
Seth shrugs and kisses his cheek. “Like you were going to fall off the edge of the world,” he says. “But it’s okay. You’re better now.”
---
Wyatt collapses on a hunt with Little Chris, and is almost eaten alive.
Mel says, “You have to tell him.” Her eyes are red-rimmed. She looks like Wyatt feels.
Little Chris says, “Tell me what?”
Big Chris is shimmering. Wyatt thinks it is because he is so tired, probably. God, he is so tired.
“Tell you about me,” Big Chris says.
-
Little Chris moves to Australia.
And like, the desert in Australia. Not the beach part. The part with fucking snakes.
He does not come home for family dinner.
Mel bites her lip. “I guess we had that coming,” she says.
He’ll forgive you, says Big Chris. Eventually. I always do.
Well, Wyatt says. That’s nice to know.
-
Mom looks older than she used to. There are little lines around her mouth and her eyes. “We always screw up with him,” she says. “He’s just - he’s hard.”
He’s not, is the thing. He’s just Chris. There was no right way to do it. Wyatt checked his rules, over and over.
Grandpa sighs. “He’s just mad,” he says. “He’s betrayed. It’s understandable.”
Grandpa knows more than any of them about Chris, little and big.
-
“He’s pretty pissed,” says Bianca. She looks miserable. He left her behind, too.
“I shouldn’t have asked you to keep it secret,” says Big Chris.
She shrugs, mouth tight, eyes tired. “I still did it,” she says. “I could have given you up, but I didn’t. It wasn’t my secret to give away, but I also don't think it was the wrong thing to do. He won't, either, when he's had a little time.”
-
Mel says, “You know, it’s always been weird for me to grow up as your little sister. It’s been worse for Chris.” She’s lying on Wyatt’s bed, hair dark on the pillow. Her eyelashes are very long and very dark. These days there is a whole world in Mel that Wyatt, even with all his power, can't seem to grasp.
“I know,” Wyatt says. “That’s why we didn’t tell him.”
She shrugs. “Maybe we did it the wrong way around,” she says. “Maybe we should have just trusted him to handle it, like we handle everything else.”
“i just want to explain,” Wyatt says. “I just didn't want anything to be hard for him. Neither of us did.”
Mel reaches up, ruffles his hair. “He knows,” she says. “He’s smart, you know? He’ll get it. It’s just, with Chris you sometimes just have to wait.”
“I know,” Wyatt says. “He’s my best friend, okay? I know.”
Mel looks at him, long and thoughtful. It might be pity in her voice when she says, “He's not your best friend, Wy. That’s the other Chris.”
---
Seth moves home to teach at magic school. He’s doing research into demon/human hybrids, ways to overcome moral predispositions.
Wyatt can’t move out of the Manor because of Big Chris, who is difficult enough to maintain as it is. So Seth moves in, cramming his things around Wyatt’s, making space in his closet.
They do a little magic. Not a lot, but enough. Just so that all of Seth’s stuff will fit, and there’s room for an extra nightstand on the other side of the bed.
It's a little weird, Mom and Dad and Wyatt and Seth and Mel all in the same house, but Seth's a lot easier to live with than Bianca. He has way less knives.
I’m proud of you, Big Chris says, sitting on the bathroom counter. His very long legs sway back and forth.
You finally like him?
I’m glad they didn’t vanquish him like I told them to, says Big Chris, wryly. I’m glad you have someone you love.
Shhh, Wyatt says. Don’t say things like that.
For someone who lies so much, Big Chris is very good at knowing the truth.
-
Big Chris meets Seth.
Wyatt has to leave the room so they can have a conversation, which is kind of nice, Wyatt guesses. It’s not like anyone let him have the conversation with Chad, even though Chad deserved to have the conversation with him.
(They did let him have the conversation with Matt, and Simon. Matt cried. Simon nodded very firmly and then cried.
He was not allowed to have a conversation with Bianca. The other Wyatt did, once, which will have to be good enough.)
Seth laughs, after. “I can’t believe that’s who I was jealous of,” he says. “Literally all the time I’ve known you, I was like, there’s definitely someone else. And it was your brother from the future, who is a ghost.”
“Huh,” Wyatt says. “I mean, an alternate future, so I guess technically we’re not related? I could hit that.” He is good at keeping a straight face, because Big Chris is very funny when he's riled.
Seth punches him very lightly in the shoulder. “Shut up,” he says. “You’re such a loser, why do I even like you?”
“Magic,” Wyatt says smugly, and kisses him.
“Seriously,” Seth says. “He’s not - he’s nice. He’s kind of a weirdo, obviously, because he’s related to you, but he really loves you.”
“Yeah,” Wyatt says. “He's good that way.”
“Hey,” Seth says, tapping Wyatt's nose. “I told you if you went evil I'd stop you. It's still a valid promise.”
Wyatt settles his hands on the small of Seth’s back and kisses him again. “Thanks,” he says.
“Anytime,” Seth says, smiling into his mouth.
His tongue is still weird, though, Big Chris says. Do you make out with it like that? Wait, I take it back, I don’t want to know.
-
Little Chris moves back to the Bay, and into an apartment with Bianca.
“You can come visit if you want,” he says. He shrugs at Wyatt, brittle around the shoulders, but not angry. “Both of you.”
Wyatt's stomach turns over. He had not realized how much he missed Little Chris until now, that he is standing here, and there are so many things they did not do last year.
The apartment is nice: white walls, open concept. Wyatt sticks his hands into his pockets and says, “I’m really sorry, Chris .”
“I think I always knew,” says Little Chris. “There was always something missing.”
“That’s never what I wanted,” says Big Chris. “I’m so sorry.”
Little Chris shakes his head. “No,” he says. “You’re me. You were always supposed to be.” He reaches out. There is a little spark when his fingers meet Big Chris’. “I met Clarence,” he says. “He told me - you weren’t supposed to die. You were just supposed to make it home, and be me.”
Wyatt winces. “And then I got in the way. Sorry.”
“No you’re not,” says Little Chris.
“No I’m not,” Wyatt agrees. “That sounds very risky. This is much safer.”
Little Chris says, “I deserve to have a life that isn't about you. That's why he came.”
Wyatt chews his lower lip. He, selfishly, very glad that he gets to have his best friend.
---
Wyatt has been getting more and more tired. It’s hard to keep his head up, hard to keep his magic bright.
He had to ask Aunt Paige to take over one of his charges. She said yes but she kissed his forehead and her mouth twisted up, sad and quiet.
Big Chris is worried. Big Chris thinks Wyatt should just let him go into the ether. Big Chris is really fucking fond of the idea of dying for a cause and Wyatt thinks he should shut the fuck up already.
Wyatt is tired enough as it is.
He died when he was twenty-three, Clarence says. If he had travelled in time, that’s when he would have merged with your Chris.
“Okay,” Wyatt says. Not: they are both mine.
That’s a year and a half. Wyatt can handle it. Wyatt can keep his best friend alive for a year and a fucking half.
He’s the motherfucking Pendragon.
It’ll be fun, Big Chris says. We always wondered what was going on in his head when he was mad at you. Now we’ll know.
“Sure,” Wyatt says. “Fun.”
Big Chris bumps his shoulder against Wyatt’s. Be nice, he says.
Wyatt trusts Big Chris to know about these thing. So he does.
-
Wyatt cannot, actually, handle it. He’s started throwing up in the mornings, and at night. He’s losing weight.
I’m not supposed to be here, Big Chris says.
The worst of it is the look in his eyes. Like he’s let Wyatt down somehow.
“You know,” Seth says, very careful, very soft, “the world isn’t actually your responsibility.”
“You don’t understand,” Wyatt says, staring at his own hands. They’ve been shaking a lot more lately. He keeps dropping things. “I burned it down, Seth.”
Seth kisses his forehead. “This isn’t what he wants, Wy. This isn’t what he died for.”
“I know,” Wyatt says. “But I have to do it, anyway.”
Mel makes a potion. She’s good at that. Big Chris will sleep, dormant, in Wyatt’s heart. It will be a drain, but not as much as it was to keep him awake.
When their Chris is twenty-three, they’ll fix it. They’ll send the other Chris home.
The three of them bless the potion, and so do Mom and the aunts. As strong as you can get, as sacred.
See you in a year and a half, says Big Chris.
I’m sorry, Wyatt says. I didn’t want to let you down.
Oh, Wy, Big Chris says, leaning forward to kiss his forehead. You never could.
-
Because Big Chris is no longer around, Wyatt has to spend a bunch of time thinking about the other Wyatt.
“You don’t actually have to,” Little Chris says. “You could think about something normal, like how we have to de-flea Salem and he’s not going to be happy about it.”
“He’s such a brat,” Wyatt says. He thinks about the way Salem used to purr at Big Chris, when he was being morose and sad and alone. Now he pads across Seth in bed to press his nose to Wyatt’s chest, and yawn, very sadly.
The other Wyatt did not have animals. Once, he found a stray cat, but it scratched him and he blew it up. It was not intentional, but he didn’t feel particularly bad about it, after.
Little Chris looks at Wyatt, sharp-eyed, careful. “You’re not him,” he says. “You know that, right?”
Wyatt shakes his head. “The thing is,” he says. “I am, actually. The only difference between us is that I know. It’s terrifying, to think that the only thing between me and total universal domination is like, me not feeling like it today.”
“Also me,” says Little Chris. He shrugs. “You’re pretty brave, you know? Like you’re fucking annoying, don’t let it go to your head, but - I trust you to keep it together.”
“I lied to you for twenty-four years,” Wyatt says. “That’s kind of an evil Wyatt thing to do.”
Little Chris sighs. “Yeah,” he says. “But you were right. I was fucked up anyway: I was your little brother. Can you imagine if he’d been there that whole time? If I’d known?”
Wyatt looks down. “I’m sorry.”
Little Chris shrugs. “I understand him,” he says. “We’re the same person. We look at the whole thing, the big picture. The straight line from a to b. Ends, not means.”
“I never really got that,” Wyatt says.
“That’s why you take the slow path,” Little Chris says. “That’s why he had to, too, I think. We’re always so busy looking at the end of things, we don’t really see how you get there.”
That’s never been Wyatt’s problem. Both of them, both Wyatts, get hung up on what’s happening, right now. Not what will happen, or what did happen.
Something about balance, Wyatt thinks. Because that was the worst thing about being the other Wyatt: that yawning, echoing emptiness. The silence of being alone.
-
Little Chris takes Wyatt to the beach. “It’s okay,” he says. “I forgive you.”
Wyatt says, “You know I love you, right?”
Little Chris says, “I know you love him.” He shrugs. “I know you love me, too. But it’s not the same.”
Wyatt blinks, squinting up into the sun. “I’m sorry,” he says. He says it a lot lately. There’s not a lot else to say. I’m sorry, but I’d do it again.
Little Chris shrugs. “Hey,” he says, “he died to save your life. I’m really okay with not doing that. Just saying.”
“You would, though,” Wyatt says, keeping his voice light. “Like, we have proof.”
Little Chris rolls his eyes and punches Wyatt’s shoulder. “Yeah, dumbass,” he says. “But I’d prefer not to, thank you very much.” He leans back, into the sand. “It’s not so bad, really. You got to have him, and I got to be myself. I needed to be myself before I could ever be him.”
Wyatt swallows. “I was always sad that we weren’t that close.”
“I wasn’t,” Little Chris says, so fast Wyatt’s a little insulted, frankly. “You were already - Jesus, Wy. You were already the sun. I didn’t want to get burned.”
Wyatt kicks his ankle. “I love you, dumbass.”
“I love you too,” Little Chris says. “But you’d have hurt me. You wouldn’t have meant to, but you would have.”
The waves crash against the shore. Wyatt digs his fingernails into his palms. It would break the other Wyatt, to hear Chris say this, but this Wyatt is okay.
So maybe there is something they don’t have in common, after all.
---
On Little Chris’ twenty-third birthday, Wyatt says, Are you sure?
“He’s always been mine,” Little Chris says, very softly. “Thank you for keeping him safe for me, for all these years. But it’s time, now.”
Big Chris smiles, and puts his hand on Wyatt’s heart. You have always been brave, he says. You are brave now.
It is so strange to let him go. Wyatt has spent so long keeping him alive. Half of Wyatt’s heart has always been wrapped up in him. Since before Wyatt had memory, this has been true.
Now the power floods back into him. He thinks he might be glowing. Intellectually, he had known it had cost him to keep his Chris. But this - this is a lot.
It’s like, he had seen the world in black and white, and now the colours are blooming.
He is made of magic. Magic is his.
He could fly into the arteries of the world; he could speak, and be obeyed. He sees the heart of magic: he knows it. He knows everything. He knows how the world was made, and will die. It pulses through him like a heartbeat.
He has never been alive before. Not like this.
He could rip the world apart.
He could make it bow before him. It is his. He is owed all things, everything that is and was and ever will be.
“Hey.” The voice is familiar, and warm.
Wyatt blinks. He is a whirlwind; he is the eye of all storms. He is fire on the mountain, and the song of Excalibur, bright in the air.
“Come back, Wy. I need you.”
The one calling is insignificant. He has no meaning. He is but a man. A mortal.
Wyatt is magic. How dare he be bound?
“Wyatt,” says Chris. “Wyatt, please. I’m here. I want to see you. Come home.”
The thing that is Wyatt Halliwell is not good, nor is it evil. It is simply itself, and right now, it is flush and full of love.
“Oh,” Wyatt says, and exhales, and steps into his brother’s waiting arms.