Here's the Prequel if you will to my other charmed story, "Mortal Love". Thanks to Dreamer for geting me to start wring. This story is about how Chris and Allyson meet, fall in love only to be separated iagain from the twisted games of the magical world. I own NOTHING, except Allyson and anyone you don't know from the show. I hope you enjoy.

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Feet slammed against the uneven pavement, a few lights flicked in the distance before extinguished. Heavy breathing seemed to break the silence even with the fire heat burning her skin. Skidding to a stop, the young women pressed herself against a cool brink wall, the heat gradually evaporating from her body while she held her breath. Her eyes snapped shut and she listened. Trash cans tossed across the street, people rushing past and talking in hushed tunes, simply trying to get home. Floating probes searching the sky and checking everyone for something unspoken.

"Get out here, Bitch!" a deep drunken voice bellowed from the entrance.

Every muscle in her body screamed at her to run, but something in that drunken voice kept her parlayed against the wall. The heavy late fall evening wind whipped past her; her trembling as she bit back a cry. Her shirt had been burned away from the fire, leaving the bare skin and lower back exposed to the harsh wind. Pushing her bangs away from her face, she squinted into the darkness at the man. The bottle in his hand shook, the vibration traveling up to his head.

"Allyson Brown, you two bit whore, get out he…" his slurred words trailed off as he fall upon the ground, passed out.

The women, Allyson, sighed deeply; goose bumps crawling down her arms. Sliding down the wall, she breathed again. Her stomach knotted as the scent of urine filled her noise. Through the powerful smell, her mind raced with a new panic. Without a second thought, she scrambled to her feet and ran further down the alley; the sneakers squeaking from the dampened ground. Her breath caught in her throat as the noise gave away her presence, but the probes didn't even acknowledge the noise from all the other noises creaming into their sensors. Through the destroyed buildings, she caught a glimpse of the sun sinking below the horizon just beyond the destroyed the Golden Gate Bridge.

Allyson shook her head and ran down another street; being alone after dark was almost certain death. With each minute that passed, the streets seemed to become more and more deserted; all the windows and doors barred in a vain attempt to protect themselves. Street signs bent backwards with some letters missing, but everyone knew the streets be heart. It was necessary to stay alive and the map of the sections of the city seemed to learned even before walking for the unlucky children born. Allyson shuddered, quickening pace.

"Ally," a small voice called out only a few feet ahead of her.

Allyson squinted into the twilight and ran up; her arms wrapping around the small child in one swift motion.

"Gwen, get back inside," Allyson said, gently shoving the child back to the small shack.

Gwen turned back and grabbed at Allyson's leg; her small body shivering beneath the heavy woolen blanket draped her shoulders. Allyson crouched down and picked her up; the dirt across the child's cheek smudging against her neck. Gwen's small hands crawled around the older girl's neck. Ducking into the shack, Allyson set the child down and knelt down to her level. A small frown caressed her features as she brushed the small golden curls away from the child's face. She knew it wouldn't be the first time they went without dinner.

"What were you doing outside, Gwen?" Allyson asked softly.

"You were late…I was worried," Gwen said simply.

Allyson felt her heart drop into stomach and she swallowed hard. It seemed impossible for a child to worry over the older sibling; even before their parents had died, Allyson had had at least a small childhood unaffected by the events beyond her own house. She remembered Gwen's birth and shuddered. Her mother's last sound in the world had been a scream of labor pain and dropped into complete silence before Gwen had begun howling.

A simple tug at her arm brought her back to reality. Allyson stared down at her sister and a faint smile crept out at the corners of her lips. Gwen looked questionably up at her as a yawn escaped her.

"Come on, time for bed," Allyson said.

Gwen tried to protest, but with each minute that passed, another yawn left her. Allyson gently escorted her to the small mattress over in the far corner; a way from the draft that passed through the cracks in the door.

As Gwen snuggled under the covers, she asked, "Can you sing mommy's song?"

"Of course," Allyson said.

With each word to the song, she felt her heart grow heavier; for each note brought back the vague memories of her childhood, something she never wanted to relive. At the beginning of the second verse, the sound of light snoring stopped her. She leaned down brushed away the golden bangs and paused. Heat seemed to radiate against her hovered lips.

Gwen shook under the heavy blanket. The eldest Brown daughter whipped her own blanket, discarded in the corner, and wrapped it around her little sister. Even through the double wool, the shadow shook. Allyson watched as the shivers decreased as the night ware on. Lying down the ground, she shivered and let the cold wash over her in a think blanket until darkness fall around her.

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Across the city, Chris Perry barely seemed to know the word sleep or cold. The small fires crackled with life as small groups huddled around them for warmth while they slept. Smoke circled up through the small broken gaps of the broken roof of the once famous club of P3. The large sign, the symbol of the club was broken and smashed into a million pieces; only through the others protest had it been fixed. He shook his head, his eyes on alert for any unpredictable movement from the resting groups around him.

"Chris, get some rest," a voice called over to him. Chris didn't even turn to look, the voice a familiar concern.

Shaking his head, he head, "Kevin, not know. Wyatt's on the move."

"Wyatt's always on the move, Chris. Why do you think we need this place?" Kevin asked, slinging the navy blue backpack off into a corner.

Chris rolled his eyes and moved back over to the maps he had been pounding over for the last two hours. Kevin slammed his hand down across the map in frustration.

"Chris, it's three in the morning. You need rest, just like everyone."

"What if someone needs us, Kev? Wyatt never sleeps and so neither"

"Christopher Hallowell stop-"

Kevin stumbled back a few paces and met with Chris's sharp emerald gaze piecing through him. Kevin sighed and shook his head. It was pointless to talk to Chris know. The young leader watched his companion leave to get rest; something that seemed to avoid Chris like the plague. Even when he tried, sleep and relaxation never came to him and today above all days he prayed for sleep. Again he counted the number in his head; twenty, another year gone.

The young leader shoved the maps to the floor in frustration and stormed back to his room in the back of the club. Catching sight of himself in a small mirror, he cursed beneath his breath. He was only twenty, but he felt older, and yet to young to have those people in the other room and thousands more looking to him for guidance. None of them released that he was looking with them and he knew that he couldn't be the savior.

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I hope you enjoyed it and please let me know what you think in as MUCH detail as possible. Thanks, but it may take me a while to update cause I have three other stories to work on too at the moment. Please let me know what you think. THANKS!