Lord Wyatt walked slowly around the Halliwell manor. His heavy boots thumped on the hardwood floors as he step-by-step made his way into his parent's old room; or to be more specific- his mother's old room. He hadn't been in there for years, there were too many memories.

He ruled the now and rulers of the world were not scared of anything.

As he lazily searched the house he came to a door he had spent many hours in front of. Whether it was coaxing the occupant out whilst he was in a bad mood or having said door slammed in his face after a particularly nasty argument, he had become quite familiar with this door.

He reached out and, almost tentatively, opened it. The musty smell of an untouched room blasted against him as he entered. Like the rest of the house, it hadn't been touched in many years- it would have stayed untouched if he had not decided to make it a museum.

Books lay haphazardly on the bookcase, coated in an inch of dust, many of the particularly demonic ones missing from when Chris had taken them before leaving to his precious 'Resistance'.

His bed lay made, the covers barely even rumpled, the bedside table held an empty glass and a clock that was no longer ticking, dust covering those items too. Posters and photos littered the walls, many falling down slightly.

Wyatt wasn't really surprised; it had been around three years since anyone had set foot in this house.

There was something sticking out of the floor, Wyatt noted as he paced. He dropped to his knees and pulled up the floorboard, finding a small box nestled beneath it.

There were many pieces of paper surrounding the box (which contained a small triquetra Piper had gotten Chris for his thirteenth birthday) Wyatt held them up for inspection and realized that they were the letters Leo had sent Chris every birthday for seventeen years.

'Dear Chris, sorry I couldn't make it for your birthday. See you next year- I promise'

Wyatt could have laughed, their father never kept his promises to Chris.

Wyatt moved to close the floorboard when a picture caught his eye.

He picked it up and saw two figures on the page. A small boy with green eyes and brown hair and a smile too big for his face stood next to a taller boy with blonde hair and blue eyes. A woman was next to the older boy, her hair and eyes were brown and she was smiling widely. Small, messy print was squeezed at the bottom of the page. Spelling mistakes scattered here and there.

When I grow up I want to be just like my big broter Wyatt becus he is the bestest person in the world and he takes care of me and teeches me things like my mommy does. I love my brother and my mommy very muchly and I hope I get to be like him when I grow up.

Wyatt stared at the picture and moved to tear it up; he didn't need memories of what he had been before this. His hands moved to tear it but something inside him stopped him. Folding the paper carefully, he pocketed the picture just as one of his demon followers entered the room.

"Is everything ready for the museum M'lord?" He asked quietly, bowing slightly as Wyatt stood.

"Yes, bring in the men; I want the Halliwell museum open for business as soon as possible. The world needs to know of the power in which I was born from."

The demon nodded curtly and walked away. Wyatt looked at the photos on the wall. His eyes stopped at one in particular of Chris and himself, smiling brightly at the camera.

Wyatt touched it and yanked it down, putting it into his pocket with the other picture and walking out of the room.


'When I grow up I want to be just like my big broter Wyatt…'

"No you don't Chris," he whispered to himself later that night as he lay in his bed, the pictures in hand.

'Becus he is the bestest person in the world…'

"No I'm not,"

'And he takes care of me…'

"Wyatt help me!" Chris called from the living room as he was repeatedly attacked by demons while Wyatt laughed cruelly.

'And teeches me things…'

"It's all about power; it's as simple as that!"

'I love my brother…'

"Join me in ruling the Underworld brother dear and I will spare you the fate of the rest of our family."

"Go to hell!" Chris spat viciously.

'I hope I get to be like him when I grow up…'

"No you don't Chris," Wyatt whispered as the moonlight shone on the photo.

"You'd never want to be like this."

A/N- hmmm, it is currently 4:30 a.m. as I write this so forgive me if it seems a little… off. I'll let you interpret it how you feel it should be interpreted.