Disclaimer: I don't own Charmed. I never have.

Setting: January 2001

Lonely Girls and Late Night Drives

A story by: Ryeloza

It's really hard, she realized grimly, to be left behind.

As the oldest, she was used to being the one who blazed ahead. She made the trail that her sisters followed. Her knowledge of the terrain made her the guide; the expert on how to navigate through the twisted road of life. First to go to school; first to be kissed; first to have sex; first to do pretty much everything.

Her whole life she had been proud of the lead she naturally fell into. The sense of wisdom and worldliness she received from advising her younger sisters warmed her in a way nothing else could. She liked that feeling of empowerment; of being in charge. Perhaps that was why she had so many failed relationships to account for. Men, she had generally realized, didn't like to be bossed or told the right way to do something.

But yes, most of the time she loved who she was; loved the responsibility that came from being the oldest of three motherless children. Just, sometimes, she regretted how much she had come to depend on that trailblazing lifestyle. The truth was that Piper and Phoebe weren't little any more. The age difference no longer put her automatically at the helm. Her sisters had run off on their own and she was left alone to scramble to catch up to them.

This lonely realization was why she sat at the bar of P3 drowning her sorrows in the middle of the night. Piper and Phoebe had left hours before without much concern for her mental state. She didn't do this, after all. She was in control and confident and smart and didn't need to drink herself into a stupor to dull whatever pain she felt. And of course, they'd never know. Tomorrow she'd be up and out of the house—hangover or no hangover—before they even rose from their beds.

The club would be closing soon. Nearly everyone had left already and Lou or Mike, or whoever this new bartender Piper had hired was, kept eyeing her warily. He had already asked her three times if he could call her a cab and she'd waved him off, simply requesting another drink. Occasionally she'd bark reminders at him to not breathe a word of this to her sisters, but she only received a raised eyebrow in response.

The last time she'd gotten shitfaced like this, Andy had had to scrape her up off of the floor and drag her home. She'd ended up crying on his shoulder half of the night and when she'd finally stopped he'd simply crawled into bed with her and held her. It had seemed strange at the time that after ten years apart they had fallen back into each others' lives as though they'd never left. But then, Andy had always been there for her growing up. He had known a side of her—the vulnerable, childish side—that no one else in the world was aware she even possessed.

This is the problem with drinking to forget your problems. You just end up remembering the other things you've been repressing. Like how much you miss your best friend.

Prue groaned, downed the rest of her drink and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand in a very unladylike way. Just as she raised a hand to wave over the unnamed bartender again, someone slid onto the stool next to her, bumping into Prue's side as she did so. Distracted, Prue pulled her attention from the possibility of more liquor and attempted to glare at the girl next to her. She knew, dimly, that she did not pull off the look the way she should have.

"Sorry," said the girl.

Prue glanced from one end of the bar to the other, taking in the multitude of empty seats. Then she turned pointedly back to the girl. "Do you have to sit here?" Somewhere, deep down inside of her, Prue was sure her rational side was having a fit about how rude she was acting. Unfortunately for that side, her conscience had taken a temporary leave of absence.

"I…Well you're…I just thought maybe you could use some company. Because I certainly could. If you don't mind." This was all said with such a stammer of self-consciousness that Prue nearly felt dizzy by the end. She wanted to say no and tell this girl with the huge, sad brown eyes to go away and leave her alone, but found that she couldn't. She did need the company; badly.

"My little sister is getting married in four weeks."

The girl's eyes lit up for a moment and then faded again so quickly that Prue was left to wonder if she had just imagined the spark. "That's nice. Isn't it?"

"Of course," Prue agreed haughtily. "Except I'm jealous. And I hate being jealous. I. Hate. It."

"You aren't married?"

"No." Prue idly waved her left hand in the girl's face as proof. "I came close once but the bastard tried to cheat on me. With my sister. So I dumped his ass. And then the only guy I ever really loved died. Now look where I am."

The girl looked frightened by this admission and Prue felt a slight twang of guilt. She seemed awfully young; only in her early twenties. She probably thought death was only something that happened to other people.

"That's not why I'm jealous though," Prue added. "Okay, maybe a little bit. I am the oldest and I'm supposed to get married first but I'm not and I just have to accept it."

"Then why are you jealous?"

Good question. "Because she doesn't need me anymore? She's got her fiancé to lean on. And my other sister finally has her life on track and she's told me repeatedly not to meddle anymore. But that's all I know to do. That's who I am to them. What the hell role do I have if I'm not taking care of them?"

The girl opened her mouth, but Prue ignored her, plowing on. Truthfully, she scarcely realized the girl was even there. "My mother died when I was seven. And I had to take care of my sisters. I had to. I had to. That was the only thing to do."

Strangely, in midst the confusing puzzle pieces of her life that Prue had dropped into this stranger's lap, she chose to focus on the oddest one. "Your mother died? How? I mean…Did she…Was she sick?"

"She drowned."

"Drowned?"

"Yes. Why?"

The girl twisted her hands together. "Why what?"

"Why do you want to know?"

There was a long pause during which the girl took a hearty drink from the bottle of water she had in front of her. It was the first time Prue realized that the other woman wasn't intoxicated. If Prue was more sober, she might have thought that there was some ulterior motive involved when this girl had bumped into her.

"My parents died in a car accident a few years ago."

So she wasn't as naïve as she looked. "I'm sorry," said Prue. "That's…Well you know."

"The most horrible thing a person can possibly survive?"

"Yeah. Exactly that."

"But at least you had your sisters," the girl pointed out. "And…your father?"

Prue snorted. "Dear old Dad was not in the picture. My grandmother took care of us."

"Your grandmother?"

"Yep."

"So it was just you and your grandmother and your two sisters?"

"Yep," Prue said again. The girl frowned and tapped her fingernails against the bar. Prue shook her head, trying to clear the fog the alcohol had created. Something was not quite right about this girl. "Seriously, why so many questions?"

"I…Well…No reason."

"Come on," whined Prue. She turned on the barstool so she faced the girl and leaned into her personal space.

"The truth?"

"Uh huh."

"I'm…lonely. That's all. I don't have much family left and I was just curious. Feeding off of your family or something. I guess."

"My family is not much to feed off of, trust me."

"You have sisters. I've always wanted a sister."

Prue wrapped an arm around the other girl's shoulders and squeezed. As strange as she was, this girl was exactly the person Prue needed tonight. Someone who needed her, even if it was only for some false sense of belonging. Someone looking for a big sister.

"If you wanna be part of my family tonight that's fine with me. The more the merrier, or something like that."

Finally, the girl looked at Prue directly; Prue was startled to find her eyes filled with unshed tears. "Thanks," she whispered. "I…I just…Thank you."

"Sure." Prue waved a hand, trying to act casual, but she ended up just spilling the girl's water across the bar. "Oh shit! Shit! Lou…Nick…Whatever your name is! I spilled!"

"I think that means you're done, right Prue?" The bartender shook his head and began to mop up the water. Prue simply stuck out her tongue.

"I guess we should go," said the girl.

"We don't have to. This is Piper's place. Piper's my sister."

"Yeah, I know. I mean…I've been here before."

"You know Piper then? She's the sweetest, don't you think?"

"Do you do this a lot?"

Prue blinked, thrown by the non-sequitur. "Do what?"

"Drink. Get drunk."

"No!" Prue began to laugh heartily. "Never! Right, Mr. Bartender?"

"It's true," he agreed. "This is the first time I've seen her this way." He leaned across the bar, closer to the girl, and dropped his voice. "You should really get her out of here if you can. I need to get home and I can't trust her to close up tonight."

The girl glanced at Prue, who leaned against the bar, kicking her legs. "Why don't I take you home, Prue? It's what your sisters would do, right?"

"I guess."

For the first time, the girl smiled. "Okay then." She stood and wrapped an arm around Prue to help her off of the barstool. Proudly, Prue noted that she barely stumbled when she hopped off.

"Bye, Mr. Bartender!"

"See you, Prue."

Outside, Prue broke away from the girl and spread her arms out wide. The air felt splendid, cooling her body to the point where it felt like it was running along in her bloodstream. She stared up into the stars. "You think they're up there?"

"Who?"

"Mom. Andy. Grams." Prue snapped her head around to stare at the girl again. "Your parents."

"Yeah." The girl looped her arm through Prue's and tugged her towards a green Volkswagon. "Definitely."

"I think so too."

The girl held open the car door and Prue managed to half-climb, half-fall inside. Immediately, she put down the window, eager to keep the air on her face. Nothing had ever felt so refreshing, especially once they began to drive and the wind began to blow.

"So your grandmother is gone too?" the girl asked abruptly.

Prue nodded, still leaning towards the window. "Yeah. It's just me and Piper and Phoebe now."

"Your parents really had a thing for names that begin with the letter P, didn't they?"

"That was Mom. I don't know why. I'm never gonna know why." Prue sighed loudly. Add that to the list of a million things she would never know in her lifetime.

"I know how you feel."

Prue smiled. "Yeah?"

"I…I was…uh…adopted. So yeah. I have a lot of unanswered questions."

"Well maybe one day you'll find your family."

There was a pause—one that seemed like ages to Prue—and then the girl said, "Maybe someday. But…Well…I'm just really scared."

"Of what?" Prue turned to look at the girl again, but she had her gaze dead-focused on the road. Silently, Prue turned back to the window.

"Of them not wanting me around, I guess. Of finding out why they gave me up. Of choosing the worst possible way to tell them about my continued existence. I mean, what would you say if I just came up and told you that I was your long lost sister?"

"I don't know. Well no…honestly?"

"Yes, please."

"I'd want proof. And then if it was true I'd want to summon my mom's dead butt back here and ask her what the hell was going on. And maybe I'd even call my dad and ream him out too."

"And your sisters?"

Prue laughed. "Phoebe would probably accept it without question. She's open like that. And Piper would get really jittery and babble a lot and probably cook way too much food. And then eventually she'd hug you."

The girl laughed, but the sound was a little bit hollow, like she was about to cry again. "Well…uh…Maybe one day I'll find out."

"You should," said Prue. "You should."

A moment later they pulled up in front of the manor. Prue felt disoriented; she couldn't even remember giving the girl her address. Still, home looked so good, and all she could think of was falling into her big, warm bed.

"Thanks for the ride…uh…Did you tell me your name?"

"No. It's Paige. I'm Paige."

"Paige. Well, thanks."

Surprisingly, Paige leaned across the short distance that separated them and hugged Prue. She really is lonely, Prue thought, and she squeezed back for a moment before pulling away. "Maybe I'll see you again sometime."

"Maybe," said Paige.

Prue smiled again and then began to fiddle with the handle. Somehow she got herself out of the car and up the steps without breaking her neck while Paige sat and watched; obviously making sure that nothing happened. The thought warmed Prue; sometimes it was nice to be the one who had someone watching her back.

Sleep welcomed her instantly that night, but she was plagued by strange dreams. Her mother, pregnant and fighting with Grams. In the morning, the dream eluded her and the previous night existed in mere flashes.

She never remembered the lonely girl who drove her home.

-Fin-

A/n: This is an idea I've had for a really long time now. I've been on a Prue kick lately, so I thought I'd sit down and finally finish this story. I would love any feedback you'd like to give. Thanks so much for reading my little story; I hope you enjoyed it.

-Katie