Disclaimer: I don't own Charmed, but in a moment or two I will own my Drew...presuming that he walks into the trap I set and not his doggie! Lol. Don't worry, peeps, the tranquilizers won't hurt him. He'll feel all woozy and nice and then he'll be MINE! MWAHAHAHAH! Okay I'm shutting up now.

Chapter 8

Chris didn't make it very far, though. He was about halfway to the P3, where he could at least wait for Piper until evening, when a powerful hand grabbed the back of his drenched t-shirt and jerked him into an alley.

"Hey—!"

Chris looked into the stark-white eyes of a demon. It had no pupils, but its eyes seemed to be penetrating Chris' soul. He shuddered. What did this demon want with him? Demons didn't usually attack in broad daylight, or so he thought—and there weren't that many demon attacks with the Alliance. Maybe once a month or so there'd be a random one. So why now? And why him?

"You're not going anywhere," the demon hissed. Its tongue seemed to slither in its mouth, its lips thin and disgusting. "Not after we've worked this hard."

Chris pulled away, attempting to break free of the demon's clutches. "You're—you're a demon! What do you have to do with the Alliance?"

There was a pause—then Chris realized the truth. The demons had everything to do with the Alliance.

"Get away from me!" Chris hollered. "You're sick—all of you--!"

There was a sharp blow to his head and dark-tinted shadows seemed to crawl over his eyes until he plunged into an utterly black world.

PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

At the Manor—A Half Hour Earlier

"What?" Piper demanded. "Who is he, then, Phoebe?"

Phoebe shook her head. "I…"

"You what?" asked Paige gently, trying to pry the information her sister.

Phoebe's eyes flashed in painful remorse. "I'm not even really sure," she said, tapping her finger on the table nervously on the table. "Oh my god, I don't even know what I'm sure of right now."

"What did you see?" Paige coaxed.

"It was really random. I saw the past," Phoebe tried to explain. "I saw…Chris."

"You saw that kid's past?" Piper clarified.

"Maybe," Phoebe whispered. "Or maybe…maybe it was someone else's."

"You're not making any sense," said Paige.

"Can we get back to the real baffler here?" Piper cut in. "That kid just orbed! Orbed! The elders are sending whitelighter scum after us—either that, or…" Her eyes widened. "Could he have copied some of Wyatt's powers? Even stolen them?"

"Now, wait a second, Piper—"

"Wyatt!" Piper called. "Wyatt, come here!"

Wyatt and Cole both came down the stairs at the sound of her yells.

"Yeah, Mom?" asked Wyatt. "Hey, where's what's-his-name? The Chris kid?"

"He just orbed out," Paige said grimly.

"Cole, what do you think?" asked Piper. "Do you think he could be a demon that copied Wyatt's powers, or a whitelighter?"

"He had witch powers, too," said Cole, avoiding answering the direct question. He let a tiny bit of a smirk curl at his mouth. "Piper, think hard. Think back. I thought back the second that kid entered the manor, and Phoebe…" He nodded towards his wife. "I think she just looked back, too."

Phoebe nodded back, eyes filling with tears. "You don't think…?"

"I do think that it's true," Cole confirmed. "Piper, Paige, Wyatt…that kid coming here was no accident. It's Chris."

Piper opened her mouth to argue that that was absurd, Chris was his name, after all—

"No, Piper, he means our Chris," Phoebe choked. "The Chris that we thought was dead all those years ago at the manor. He's half witch, half whitelighter…and he obviously has no idea where he's from or what's happening to him."

"In all likelihood, somebody sent him here," Cole continued. "We need to get a hold on him—now. He's alone and can be easily taken advantage of. He's a Halliwell, Piper, whether you believe it or not."

Paige stood completely still, mouth slightly agape. After a moment, she said, "I believe it."

"Well, I don't!" Piper screamed. "You're crazy! My son, my little boy is dead! He has been for ten years! Why are you doing this to me? You can't bring Chris back to life! Nobody can! I couldn't, Leo couldn't—Chris is dead!"

Wyatt was completely pale and still next to Cole.

"Wy?" prompted Cole.

"I agree," said Wyatt, starting to shake almost angrily. "He's an imposter. He's a demon trying to get us to believe that he's Chris. If he really were alive…Dad would've been able to sense him. I would've been able to sense him!"

"Don't overestimate the power of a whitelighter," Paige warned.

Wyatt's face scrunched in frustration and pain. "You're nuts! All of you!" He ran back up the stairs and slammed his bedroom door.

"Now look what you've done!" Piper accused, fuming. "You've gone and upset him for no reason! You know how horrible Wyatt's felt all these years about Chris dying! You all know!"

"Don't hide from the truth," Phoebe pleaded to her sister.

"No…you stop telling lies." With that, Piper swung around and headed up the stairs to go find Wyatt.

"Don't bother," Cole called after her. "He's already gone."

PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

Present Time

Chris moaned as he tried to lift his eyelids. Why was he so wet? Oh yeah. The bridge. Wait—he was getting even wetter, though.

When he came to the conclusion, he swore under his breath. All his life he'd longed for rain, and now that he was in it, he was in no condition to enjoy it. His head throbbed unbelievably; he could literally feel the warmth of his own blood trickling in his hair and down his neck.

He had been shoved pretty deep into the alley, behind a dumpster. No one would notice him. The demon had it planned out perfectly—no one could see him, and no one would hear him over the roar of the pounding rain. Nobody would linger around in a downpour like this, either.

Slowly, he opened his eyes. The sky was dark, but the air was warm. He was a bit confused as to why he was noticing these random things when he could quite possibly be dead in a few minute's time. He wished he could just hurry up and die.

All his life, he'd been uncertain of everyone and everything. He never really had a choice in anything, did he? It was like, boom—your memory's gone and in order to survive as a four-year-old, you practically have to sell your soul to a bunch of Alliance members that you don't know. Then when you get there, you have no idea what's going on…and in your blissful naivety, you start to believe that everything's okay.

It wasn't okay.

It had never been okay.

For the first time his heart ached for the life he'd never known. He felt it…he needed it. He didn't know it, though—he was battling some unknown force. Was it the boy from the dream? The dead little boy, asking to be saved?

He's not dead, Chris suddenly realized. He shuddered, partly from pain and partly from the irony of his situation. I am that boy.

He closed his eyes, just for a minute. Just to think…could he save himself?

His head spun for a moment, but reassuringly. He was headed back.

He had opened his eyes only moments ago to darkness. The heavy weight of the rubble seemed to be crushing his lungs; tears rolled down his cheeks. He'd lost something—someone?—and wasn't sure of anything. His mind raced. Where was he? What was he doing? What had happened?

Who was he?

Panic rose in his throat and he let out a whimper. The loss of his own identity swelled inside him like a balloon. How long would he last down here, trapped under these bricks? How long had he been down here already? His whole life?

"Help," he pleaded, voice hoarse. "Help me—someone—"

There were voices nearby, but he knew they wouldn't be able to hear him under everything.

"….recruiting witches…" he heard someone murmur. "…found anything?"

"Not yet…only two witches…gone," another responded.

The voices came closer, grew clearer. "We need more if the Alliance is going to be formed."

Witch. He heard that word and sounded safe—but at the same time, afraid. It was familiar. Something to cling to.

"The Charmed Ones are still alive?" one asked.

"Yes, sir."

"And their kids?"

"One is missing. The eldest sister's younger boy," the man reported.

"Perfect."

He couldn't breathe. His current struggle forced him to tune out the men and their unusual conversation, intent on one goal: survive. He shook violently and the ground quaked beneath him. The rubble slowly began to slide away from around him. Light filtered through the rocks—oh, the blissful light, it was still there…The rubble flew off him in all directions until he was left standing in the middle of it all, green eyes wide with shock.

The men rushed over to him just as he collapsed.

"Could he be…?"

"There's no doubt in my mind. It has to be her kid. Take him to Pete's quadrant."

"Do we tell him?"

"Tell him what?"

"Who the kid is."

"No…I don't think that I trust that man just yet. Let the half-breed be our little secret weapon—when the time comes…"

That was the last glimpse of the light outside that he received for a long, long while. .

A hand shook his shoulder and he gasped, choking for air.

"Chris…Chris, wake up! Chris—"

"Wyatt?" he managed to ask.

"Yeah, it's me…look, I—I'm sorry…I—"

A light blue glow radiated from Wyatt's hand and slowly Chris' pain faded. It was like a miracle. He figured that Wyatt inherited whitelighter powers from his—their—father.

And so did he.

Wyatt sighed with relief after the healing, then leaned back a couple of inches to take a good look at Chris. His stare was long and hard. Neither boy said a word.

"I can't believe I didn't see it…Chris, I'm so sorry."

Hey guys, sorry it took so long to update. I'm up to my neck with crud to do, not to mention that I'm swimming with my team two and a half hours a day now. (rubs sore muscles in agony lol). It's fun, but posting is hard when there's so many swim functions and baby-sitting gigs and people staying over at our house (HI CHRIS IF YOU'RE READING THIS) from Seattle for the week. And I just started voice lesson thingies because I've been singing the national anthem at swim meets and one of the lady peoples there told my mom to sign me up with a ladyif I was gonna "make it big" lol (in my dreams, lol...I'm trying to stay realistic). So I'm busy. Blah. Count on many updates mid-July and late August. THANKS FOR READING YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST! Anda note for the person who reviewed me asking if we could swap emails and talk and stuff, could you review again? I lost track of who you were (I'm blonde, very sorry) and forgot your screen name...thanks again!

TBC!