Disclaimer: If I owned Charmed, what the heck would I be doing on this site? You guys wouldn't only be burdened by my weird stories--THEY'D BE INFLICTED ON THE WHOLE FREAKING WORLD! YIPEE! Lol. If only, if only.

Chapter Two

It didn't take as long as he thought it might to find the P3. The underground of the Alliance headquarters opened up to the outside world through a hidden vortex in the brick wall of one of the bigger buildings in San Francisco. He walked tentatively out of the alley—it was daylight for once. He'd only been out in the daylight once before. Normally he went out at night to do minimal, easy tasks, like finding spare food or stocking up on supplies or sending messages from one quadrant of the Alliance to another.

And another thing that struck him: it was warm.

The sun seemed to beat on his back mercilessly. From the alley, he saw people walking around, chatting on cell phones as if the heat were nothing. Chris was so accustomed to the chill of living underground that this intensity was baffling. Immediately he shed his sweater and was grateful he happened to be wearing a pair of Owen's old shorts when he left—otherwise he would've looked terribly out of place.

In an instant he was sweating. Once out of the alley, he could feel himself tense. Would anyone notice how different he looked compared to them? That he was unnaturally pale compared to them, sweating, and wearing ratty clothes? Could they tell he wasn't street smart like the rest of them?

After a few minutes of aimless walking and crossing several streets with crowds of pedestrians, he relaxed. There was nobody staring at him to the best of his knowledge. Now what?

A woman was walking idly down the block, stopping every now and then to stare at a store window. She didn't look too rushed. He approached her with caution, trying to disguise his voice to hide his irrational fear of this outside world.

"Excuse me?"

The woman looked over at him. "My goodness, you look like a ghost," she chuckled. "Inside playing video games like my boys, I presume?"

"Um…yeah." In truth, Chris had never even played a video game before, but that wasn't the issue at hand. "I was wondering if you might be able to tell me where the club P3 is?"

The woman frowned at him. "Isn't that a club for adults? You could hardly be over thirteen."

Chris was, in fact, fourteen, but he held his tongue. "Well, my friend Wyatt's mother owns the club, and he said he'd meet me there. I took the bus and I realized he must have given me some wacked-out directions."

Her frown dissolved. "Oh, don't worry, dear, you're not too far off. It's about two blocks ahead—then you turn right and go another three blocks or so. Be safe now, young man," she warned before heading on her way.

Chris' heart was literally beating in his chest like a drum by the time she turned her back. He'd completed his first official conversation with a mortal—a non-witch—and he'd lived. He smiled to himself, feeling a sense of accomplishment for fooling her. She had no idea what he really was or what he was really doing. The sense of adventure returned to him, and he continued on his way through the city blocks.

Night came faster than he thought it would, which was a relief. Five minutes later he'd made it to the P3 and it was nearing dark, lessening the heat. A small crowd was forming outside of the club, waiting for the opening time at six o'clock.

Hurriedly, he ran into the alley parallel to the P3. He knew by scouring the streets at night that there were always back entrances through the alleys. There was a door, right there waiting for him, too—

He was about to reach out for the knob when he stopped himself. Halted in his own stupidity, he almost slapped himself in the head. What was he going to do, storm in there and introduce himself? No, he had to be smarter than that. Pete had trusted him. He had to live up to that trust.

So…what could he do? Pretend to be delusional or sick or something? Maybe he could pretend that he was being chased by a demon and storm in, begging for help. Yes, that seemed smart. They were the Charmed Ones, after all. Surely people came to them for help like that all the time.

He turned the lock, fully prepared to run in while all-out panicking, when he realized the door was locked. Duh! It was San Francisco, of course the stupid door to an alley entrance would be locked. What kind of fantasy land was he living in?

Dejectedly, he sat down, leaning against the dumpster. Might as well stay here for the night. In the morning—that's when he'd act. He had time, didn't he? Besides, he wasn't all that great an actor anyways. The demon thing might not have even worked.

He sat there for maybe two hours or so, thinking about possible ideas. He couldn't go to school and find Wyatt there. He had no ID, no birth certificate and no parents. In fact, if an officer found him in this alley…he shook off the thought. No one would find him here.

Besides, he was pretty certain that school was out for the summer already. It was stifling hot and the woman had mentioned video games. Did kids only play those when there wasn't school? Man, this world was different compared to the Underground.

He was so deep in thought that he didn't even hear the door open. When he realized a woman was stepping out, he did the first thing his instincts said to do—closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. Confrontation would be so much easier that way. Maybe she'd just not see him, or ignore him, or—

No such luck.

"What the—?" she stuttered. "Hey, kid…kid, wake up." She shook his shoulder and he opened his eyes.

The instant he looked into her brown eyes he felt as if he was being sucked into a vortex. The world around him spun and blurred until…

"Wake up, Chris. Your mommy made breakfast downstairs, pancakes."

And just like that the vision, no more than a streak of different colors, was gone.

"Are you okay? Look, I can get you some help—"

"No!" Chris alerted himself back to the present, shaking his head. "Sorry. I just spaced out, that's all." He could feel himself flushing. What was that? He had no memory of anything like that happening before. Could it be that he was actually recalling something from before the Alliance, before when he had an identity?

"You don't look very well," the woman said hesitantly. He straightened himself and stood up, brushing the dirt off of himself. Yes, she certainly seemed familiar…but then again, he couldn't know for sure. Who was she, anyways?

"I'm fine—I'm sorry—"

"Are you out here by yourself?" Her brown eyes flickered in concern. She looked about in her thirties or so, with shoulder length brown hair that had a few loose curls.

"Um, no. Well, yes, but—but—" Think, think, think! Quit stuttering! He commanded himself. "I'm looking for a Piper Halliwell," he finally burst as a last resort.

The woman looked surprised. "Sure…I'm her sister, Phoebe Halliwell." She held out her hand and he shook it. "Why do you need her?"

"Um, a demon's after me. I heard that I could find her here."

"Yeah, you've come to the right place, kid," she acknowledged, looking at him with a new pity. "What's your name?"

"Chris," he said without thinking. It didn't occur to him until after he'd said it that he might want to lie about his name. Stupid action number five million. She led him into the club.

Immediately he was overwhelmed by its atmosphere—the lights, the pounding music, the pulse of all the bodies jam-packed into one room. He could feel himself paling. Never before had he seen so many people in one spot before! How many mortals in the world WERE there?

"Are you okay?" she asked again. "You're awfully pale looking."

"It's genetic," he lied, forcing a small smile.

"Really?" she said offhandedly, meandering her way through the crowd. She finally came to an office and knocked on the door.

"Piper? Hey, Piper, are you in there?"

The door opened. "Hey, Phoebe. What's up?" She saw Chris and cocked an eyebrow. "Um, Phoebe, he looks a bit…underage. How old are you, twelve?"

He stared at her, barely able to keep from opening his mouth. This woman, she…she seemed—something just went "snap!" inside of him at that moment. But there were no creepy visions this time, and for that he was glad. He managed to regain his composure in time to say, "No, fourteen."

"What are you…?"

"He has a demon-stration issue, Piper," Phoebe explained.

Piper nodded, trying to hide her exasperation. "Come on in, then." She shut the door behind him. "What's your name?"

Oh, no. The room was spinning again. No, no, no—

"We need to find a name for him, Leo. It's been two days. We can't have a nameless baby."

"He reminds me so much of my father, just looking at him. Chris. Chris Perry Halliwell?"

"Sounds perfect."

"He said his name was Chris…Chris, are you in there?"

The blur cleared again. He was still standing in the room, steady on his feet, as he had been two seconds before. Then how was it that he was in a hospital, seeing two parents and a little baby? How could he be in two places at once?

"Here, why don't you sit down?" Piper motioned towards the couch. "I'm sure it's been rough with a demon and everything. Where are your parents?"

"I don't have any," he said quickly.

Piper's eyes widened. "Oh…I'm—sorry," she stuttered in surprise.

"That's horrible," said Phoebe.

"It's okay, I don't remember them." He shifted uncomfortably.

"You just had a vision, didn't you?" Phoebe asked. "I know that look. Is it a new power?"

"A vision?" Chris wasn't quite prepared for that possibility. "Like seeing the future or something? But I can only do telekinesis."

"Our sister had that power—Prue. But visions allow you to see in the past and present, too. I think you must have more than one power."

Chris considered this. All his life, he'd been barely about to control telekinesis. How could it be that he had two powers if he could barely manage one?

"Where are you staying?" Piper's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Uh…" He fidgeted. "Around."

"That's not safe!" Phoebe frowned. "Stay with us until we get this whole demon-thing sorted out, and then Paige, my sister, can find you a decent home—"

"No, no, no—that's okay. I'm fine. I just need the demon to—" She put her hand on his shoulder and he recoiled on instinct. There was no way he could let them send him to some foster home! No way in hell! He had to report to headquarters in three days, anyways, and there WAS no demon. "Look, I don't need any other help besides that, okay?" he tried to reason.

Piper and Phoebe exchanged glances.

"Let's just cross this bridge when we come to it," Piper relented.

Chris relaxed a bit. "Thank you."

"So, what kind of a demon are we looking for?"

"Well, he…er, he shoots balls of, uh, power." Chris cleared his throat to give himself some thinking time. "He keeps talking about stealing power from me. He can shimmer, too, and he only appears at night." Chris only hoped his description of the nonexistent demon would be enough to buy him enough time at their house while they searched in vain. He had to befriend this Wyatt. He had to. The Alliance was depending on him.

He didn't have to wait long to meet Wyatt, however. The door burst open and in came Wyatt Halliwell himself.

Thanks, everyone, for the beyond fabulous reviews! I feel so LOVED! Lol. I'll update as soon as possible, most likely by Friday. I have a HUUUUUUUGE project due. (kill me, please!)