A sort of companion piece to Perry, Not Halliwell. It's a bit confusing, I know, but I love this.

The Death of Christopher Perry

Christopher Perry was dead.

A brunette man grinned.

Christopher Perry was dead.

He shouldn't be grinning over this, he knew that. It was rather inappropriate to grin over someone's death. But, if it was your own death, did it matter?

No, he decided it did not.

Christopher Perry had been replaced by Christopher Halliwell… for good.

And that was all he had ever wanted. Ever since the first time the words had spilled out of his mouth –

("Who are you?

"Chris. Chris Perry.")

– he had wanted to take them back. He had wanted to scream, "I'm Christopher Halliwell! Look at me! I'm your son!"

And now he could scream it. In fact, he did it just then.

Even though no one could hear him – not even the other dead guys. His soul hadn't risen up to heaven yet. In fact, it was just kind of floating in space. He could see everyone, and everything they did. It was rather nice.

Absently, he wondered if he was condemned to watching for the rest of his life.

He couldn't really bring himself to care.

"I'm Christopher Halliwell," he murmured to himself. He nodded and said it again with more conviction, "I'm Christopher Halliwell."

He sounded a little crazy, but again, no one could hear him.

Or so he thought.

"Yes, we got that."

The renewed Christopher Halliwell whirled around to face the newcomer. He was slightly taller than him, with dark black hair, and a strange grin on his face. Chris couldn't place where he had seen him before.

The man held out a hand. "Cole Turner. I married your Aunt once."

Chris took the hand, and shook it, and then realization came over him. "Oh, you, Belthazor." He must have been going crazy if he was talking to a demon so casually. Then again, they were both dead, weren't they?

"Yeah," Cole nodded, and turned to look at the chaotic scene in Piper's bedroom. "You're taking your death pretty easily."

Chris shrugged. "I was born, wasn't I?"

"But your soul is still here. You aren't letting it leave," Cole said.

He frowned. "Is that a problem?"

Cole didn't answer his question for a moment. Chris waited patiently for his ex-uncle (that was strange) to say something.

"You just died in your father's arms, the father who you had convinced yourself you hated; the father who had been constantly attacking you with verbal insults before he found out who you were; the father who you beat up. And your Aunt watched you die. Now, you're just standing here, completely uncaring. Don't you find that a little strange?" Cole asked quietly.

"I'm dead, does it matter?" Chris countered easily, sitting down on a couch.

Wait, was it sitting? Because he couldn't exactly feel it. Maybe he was just hovering in midair.

"Your mother is going to give birth in a few seconds. You are going to be born. Your soul needs to leave. It can't stay here."

"Why not?"

"Because, there can't be two Christopher Halliwells. Even if one is in another plane."

Chris tilted his head. What did that –?

His eyes widened. "Oh, crap," he moaned, burying his hands into his face.

Cole nodded with a small smile on his face. "I see you get the picture," he said.

"I'm Christopher Halliwell," Chris said slowly. "But I can't be Christopher Halliwell. The baby has to be."

"Well, technically you will be, but then again, technically, you won't be," Cole mused. "Now that's confusing."

"And unfortunately, I understand," murmured Chris. "I must be going nuts."

"Been there, done that," Cole said cheerfully.

Chris scratched his hand, and then stood. "Well, Ex-Uncle Cole, thanks," he grinned at the ex-demon.

"No problem. I liked you from the start," Cole assured him.

The two grasped hands. And then Chris's soul disappeared.

An hour later, a crying Christopher Perry Halliwell was born.

So maybe, Christopher Perry never really died. He and Christopher Halliwell just became one.