Disclaimer: Yet another story and I still haven't taken over the world—I mean, erm, Charmed industry. Yeah. That's it. Riiiiiight.

In another time, he'd be a cool kid riding on his skateboard through the streets of San Francisco. Girls would be eyeing him giddily and frolicking around the streets waving shopping bag's in one another's faces. Businessmen would be punching numbers on their cells phones and inattentively bumping into passerby. Young mothers would be scolding children for letting go of their hand or running in the crowd. And in another time, he'd have friends to hang out and cause mischief with.

But not here. There were no girls, no businessmen, no mothers and children, no friends. It was just him, alone on what was left of a dreary street once bustling with life. He couldn't remember that time and place. The titans had control over the world when he was born, and there'd be monsoons and tornados, floods and flash storms every week. When Chris was six, Wyatt defeated them.

But it didn't get much better, since Wyatt declared himself ruler of the world and nobody could stop him.

Ever since then, he'd been ignored. Phoebe and Mel and Jason were never around. He'd never met Paige, who'd died a year before his birth at the rise of the titans. And Piper...was dead. As of last week. But he was still too shocked to even think about it, let alone cry about it.

Then there was Leo. Chris knew that at one point Leo had the potential to be a great man, but those days were over. Sometimes he could go farther back in his mind than he ever had before and recall times that Leo was his idol. No matter what happened, Leo would find time to be with the boys. But after Wyatt turned evil, he rarely came back.

And when he did, he'd blame Chris. Chris was the outlet of his anger now. "If you were powerful enough, you could stop him....why don't you train?" Leo would ask.

"I'm a pacifist."

"You kill demons all the time!" Leo would protest.

"That's the exception," Chris countered. "I can't hurt my own brother!"

Just yesterday a grief stricken Leo had orbed into the manor, out of control. He took Chris by the shoulders and shook him, demanding "why, why, why?" continuously. Chris was shocked at first, unable to speak. Leo had never gotten violent before. Sure, he'd be mad at Chris sometimes, but he was always gentle.

Finally Chris burst into sobs along with Leo. "Stop it!" he'd cried, using telekinesis to throw Leo into a wall.

At least Leo seemed to come to his senses. "Chris...wait—I'm sorry!"

"Save it," Chris had spat, shaking in fear. "I'm sick of you. I'm not fighting Wyatt and I'm sorry I was too much of a loser to save mom. But you know what? You can blame yourself! It's your fault I exist!"

It was Leo's turn to be shocked. "I'm sorry...I didn't know—you felt that way..."

Chris never heard the rest of what he had to say because he'd orbed away.

And now, here he was, skateboarding. He didn't know where he was headed or where he was going. It didn't really matter anyway. The sound of the board against the smooth, cold cement was comforting though the wasteland surrounding him terrified him.

Suddenly his board hit something and he tripped, flying in the air and landing face down in the pavement. He groaned in annoyance and slowly got back up, rubbing his bleeding jaw with a scratched up palm. He could feel blood inside of his mouth. Besides a large cut on his knee, he was otherwise okay. What had he run over, anyways?

He looked down and suddenly felt very dizzy. He swallowed back the lump in his throat, mumbling "I'm sorry," to the lifeless, pale body on the sidewalk. "It's my fault. I couldn't stop him."

Of course Wyatt had done this. Who else? All that opposed him were killed immediately, and the rest of the demons and mortal felons were loyal to him and obeyed only his commands.

It was a man in his early twenties. He had brown hair and his green eyes were still open in shock. An athame had been plunged into his gut. And on his nose, there was a freckle. Instinctively, Chris' hand flew up to his own nose freckle. He had some resemblance to this stranger, but it didn't matter anyway. The guy was clearly dead. Might as well leave him at peace.

He stood, picking up his skateboard and starting to ride away. "Wait..." croaked a voice.

Chris gasped, turning around. The young man's startlingly green eyes locked with his own, this time very much alive.

"You're...alive?" Chris managed.

"The portal," the man said faintly. "Please. It's in the alley."

"What? A portal?"

"A time portal. Please, you're the last chance that there is...t-to stop Wyatt..."

"No—I can't do anything to Wyatt! I'm not powerful enough!" he cried. "Who are you?" The young man's eyes were slowly closing. "Please," Chris begged, "where did you come from? What can I do? I can't defeat him, he's too strong. You don't know him like I do."

A smile seemed to twitch at the man's lips. "I know him more...than you'd think..." His breaths were slowly fading.

"But how?"

"Go. Please. They'll explain..."

"Who?"

"The portal," the young man repeated, drawing in his last breath. "Good luck."

Chris watched the dead man for a while, trying to figure out why he seemed so important. There was some connection. Chris felt like this man was a part of him; or, more likely, Chris was a part of the man. But now he'd never know.

And he was willing to take a risk. What else could he do? What's the worst that could happen? He'd lost everything he cared about.

With a bold, confident state of mind he hadn't felt in a long time, he walked into the alley where the man had pointed.

Sure enough, a blue, shimmering portal hovered inches from the ground along the brick wall. He shuddered, imagining what could be beyond it, but he knew that this dead man he barely knew could be trusted. Something about him was assuring; like he had no reason to lie.

He stepped into the portal, bracing himself. A moment later he stepped onto a wooden floor.

Why was he in the attic?

He looked around him and gasped. A woman with black hair was holding a baby, Phoebe was flipping through the Book of Shadows, and Piper was sitting exhaustedly on the couch. They all looked like they'd been crying.

Chris' mind reeled. Hadn't the Book of Shadows disappeared? Where had the baby come from? Who was the black-haired woman? Wasn't his mother supposed to be dead?

The sisters all looked at him, equally shocked.

The thoughts seemed to swim around him. This was too much. What was happening?

He saw little lights in front of his eyes before he hit the floor and passed out.

This story idea was so random, even I don't know how I came up with it. I guess some of life's mysteries will never be solved...