Hello my lovely readers, aren't y'all impressed with my speedy update? 'Cause I sure am!! Don't get used to it though, 'cause I can't promise that the next chapter will be up this quick – this was a complete fluke. I had an idea and it only took me like an hour to write this... so if it's not very good: TELL ME and I'll rewrite it.

Thanks a bundle to the few who reviewed – you guys hold a special place in my heart lol... but actually.

Enjoy!

Wow, now that was one hell of a trip!

I feel slightly lightheaded and my body's still tingling in affect from my very first magical journey – well, I can't say that this was my first; I've shimmered before, but this... now this was different. It felt so right, so good. Actually, it reminds me of how I felt years ago when I was drugged on laughing gas while at the dentist – Oh my God... am I high? My happiness disappears suddenly as a feeling of guilt overwhelms my body, inevitably increasing my heart beat. Mom's gonna kill me when she finds out. But I can't be high – it was magical. You can't get high off of magic... or can you? I guess it's a good thing that mom's not here to tap into how I'm feeling, although the other two people in the room are staring so intently at me that it's as if they know exactly how I feel. Of course they're staring at me. And it's not because they think that I'm high or know how I'm feeling. It's because I'm the mysterious new damsel in distress that's landed in their life.

I don't know how long I've been off within my own little world daydreaming, but it's unusual that neither of them has spoken yet. From Piper's intense outburst at the house in L.A., I expected to be interrogated immediately upon arriving at our destination. Apparently they're not big on talking, but they've got the staring thing down pat. I'm the one who decides to finally break the ice, which is uncharacteristically bold of me, and ask, "What's it called again, that swirly blue teleporting thing we just did? I've never seen it before, let alone experienced it."

"It's called orbing," answers the woman who I know is called Paige, even though we haven't been formally introduced.

In fact, Piper, in the half an hour or so that I had spent conversing with her, hadn't even bothered to ask my name. Although curious, I'm not too bothered by the fact. Part of me is longing to find out about my long lost family, as it has for years. But this visit constitutes purely as business and not an ounce of pleasure. I can't afford to get to know these women on a personal level. I just want to find mom and get out of here. And judging by Piper's neglecting to even ask for my name, I'm pretty sure that's all she wants me to do.

"You've never orbed before?" Paige continues slowly while staring at me quizzically.

Under her gaze I feel small and vulnerable, although, her eyes are missing the sense of familiarity and hate which were unbearable when Piper's eyes had been connected with my own.

"I don't understand. You are a witch, aren't you? Don't you have a white-lighter?" Paige asks just as unsurely, while continuing to watch me inquisitively.

"A white-who?" I stumble in response as my face inevitably contorts in confusion.

My reaction apparently ignites a spark of recognition within her, which is only noticeable in the subtle brightness that quickly races through her eyes.

"You look very familiar," Paige speaks softly, confirming my suspicions of her recognition of me, even if she is unable to place precisely who I am. "Who are you?"

"Paige, I think that you should go into the kitchen, I'll meet you there in a minute," Piper says quietly before I can respond to her.

As Paige exits the room, I notice that Piper's glare remains fixated on me as she is unable to even look at her sister. I can almost feel the pain that her eyes radiate, and I can't help but feel guilty for I am partially to blame for her heartbreak and for Paige's as well, when she finds out who I am.

"Um... I need you to stay here... we'll probably be a while," Piper's voice sounds faint and unsure, reflective no doubt, of the overwhelming task that she is about to face.

I nod silently and watch as she slowly makes her way into the kitchen. When I'm positive that she is safely out of sight, I sigh quietly to myself before sinking into one of the oversized chairs that dominate the room. Looking around, I find that this so-called "manor" is not as foreboding as its title makes it out to be. Actually, the house is quite elegant and warm, filled with antiques and family photos mainly of Piper and two young boys.

I can't help but feel envious of the manor's occupants. This house embraces every aspect of what a home should be – something that I've never experienced. Besides the house that I had briefly shared with my mother for the past two weeks, I have never lived in a house as inviting as this one. My mother and I have lived in a countless number of rented cottages and flats, whose walls remained white and bare during our short stays. Mom has never made a substantial amount of money, enough to allow us to live comfortably of course, but nothing was ever budgeted into home improvements. We more or less stumbled upon our current dwelling during our flight to San Francisco. Mom ran into an old friend from high school, who had become a professional "house-flipper," who had insisted that we stay in one of his current projects, free of charge, until we found some place more permanent. Even though the house is magnificent in both size and structure, it's still missing the warmth and homeliness that's emphasized throughout the manor.

I hear the front door creak open, which silently rips me from my current thoughts, followed by the unmistakable clicking of high-heels walking across the wooden floors.

"Piper!" I hear a young, female voice call out.

"Just a minute, Billie," Piper responds from the kitchen.

"Oh my God, you would not believe the day I've had," Billie continues, oblivious to Piper's current engagement as her steps near the room in which I'm presently occupying. "First of all, Al - - whoa! You're not Piper..."

Her tall frame fills the large entrance of the room as she stares at me curiously, hands placed firmly on her hips. I'm not in the mood to meet any more people, especially more Halliwell's. Although she marched into the house as if she owned the place, she doesn't look like a Halliwell. Contrasting the dark hair which is seems to be a family trait, are her fair locks. I suppose that her blonde look could easily come from the contents of a box... but it isn't just her hair colour that makes me question her heritage. Standing upright, she is at least four or five inches taller than my 5'2", add to that her name which obviously doesn't start with a "P" – no, she's definitely not a Halliwell. She's safe to speak to.

"No, I'm not Piper," I say quietly, inviting her to converse with me.

"Clearly," she states bluntly before creeping closer toward me, her arms crossed protectively across her chest. "But you look so familiar... almost like... oh never mind."

"Almost like who?" I ask slowly, although I'm pretty sure that I know who, and I'm not looking forward to the endless stream of unanswerable questions that this woman will soon be asking.

"Oh, just someone that I used to know," she says while waving her hand away from her body, a silent gesture for me to forget about her previous comment.

Ignoring her unspoken plea, I respond quickly, "Probably because I'm her daughter."

"What?!" Billie gasps as her eyes widen in surprise. "No... you can't be – I mean, there's no doubt that you look like her... but you definitely don't sound like her. Sorry, I didn't mean to sound rude, but I can't even place your accent – if that's even what it is, I might just be hearing things. Where are you from?"

Oh boy. So now the questions start getting personal... why can't she be like Piper?

"I speak Spanish, if that helps to explain my accent at all – it should be pretty faint, it only really becomes audible when I'm nervous," I begin cautiously. "And as for where I'm from... well, I was born in Spain, but mom and I have lived in so many different places that I can't really say that I'm 'from' anywhere. We're just your average, run of the mill, globe trotters."

After a slight pause, Billie's eyes soften as she responds, "Oh my God, you are her daughter," while pulling me up off of the chair and enveloping me in a surprising hug.

I stand awkwardly as she pulls out of the embrace, keeping me at an arm's distance away and her hands grip my shoulders tightly as she continues rapidly, "I can't believe it – after all of these years, she's finally back – where is she? Oh probably in the kitchen, which is why Piper was all pissy when I came in. And you... the daughter that she foresaw so long ago... she must be so happy. I'm so happy! Just look at you... you're just like her. Oh, there's so many things to say, so many questions to ask... what's your name? Where have you both been for all of these years? And – ooh! What did you do to your arm? Oh God, I think I'm talking too fast – am I talking too fast?"

My look of bewilderment apparently did all the communicating for me as she takes a step back, extends her arm and begins again, this time at a much slower rate, "Let's start over. I'm Billie... and does Phoebe's daughter have a name?"

Oh shit.

"Uhh, of course I have a name... it's, it's Pea," I lie very unconvincingly.

"Pee?" she questions half in disbelief, half in disgust.

"Yeah – like the vegetable," I suggest, trying harder to convince myself than Billie.

"Uh huh..." she says, a look of confusion evident within her face.

Pea? I said my name is Pea? I can't tell her my real name, but surely I could have come up with something better than Pea! She's never going to believe this...

"Hey – if Gwyneth can call her kid Apple, what's wrong with mom calling me Pea?" I ask, as she considers the probability over. "I think I got off easy on this one."

"Hmm, well it doesn't sound like something Phoebe would name her kid," Billie starts, as a feeling of dread runs through my body. "But hey, it's unique and it sticks with tradition."

She bought it! I can't believe it!

"You have her smile," her tender voice catches me off guard, immediately ending the "happy dance" that was going on inside of my head.

"Thank you," I reply simply, regarding the comment as a compliment as I always do when people point out the similarities that my mother and I share.

Billie smiles slightly before asking in a more casual voice, "So, what happened to your arm?"

"Oh, I broke my wrist," I explain as I glance briefly at my left arm which is covered in a plaster cast.

"Yeah, I can see that, but how - - wow! Did you do all of that?" she asks while looking at the drawings that currently covers the once white material.

I nod my head before responding, "It was a long flight here – I got bored."

"Yeah, but this... this is really good, you're very talented," she declares while analyzing the sketches closely.

Before I can thank her, however, Piper's voice is heard from the kitchen calling, "Billie, can you come in here for a moment?"

"Yeah sure!" she yells in reply after dropping my injured arm, and looking up at me happily. "I guess now it's my turn to be officially re-introduced to your mom. Wish me luck!"

I wait until she leaves the room before I whisper quietly to myself, "Too bad she's not there."

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Until next time:

Ciao!