Title: Infinite Possibilities
Author: Johanney
Keywords: A/U
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own Charmed or any of the related characters and so forth. Pryce and the strange circumstances surrounding her origins are mine, but that's about it. Also, all middle names are my own invention.
Summary: It's revisionist history time!! What if there had been another Halliwell sister, brought into the Manor by the guiding hands of fate, and adopted by Grams? I don't know, either. Let's find out.
Author's Note: The ages of the girls are dependent on the birthdays that were given at different points during the series. I went with the first date given, even though the writers have probably changed them since, seeing how continuity is on the show. However, for a reference, their dates of birth and middle names are:
-Prudence "Prue" Elise: 10/25/1970
-Piper Lynn: 03/07/1973
-Phoebe Jane: 11/02/1975
-Paige Marie: 08/02/1977 (I'm giving her birthday now even though she won't appear for a few chapters.)
-Pryce Ann: 10/12/1980
Another Note: This is my very first Charmed fic, and I have no idea why I chose an A/U. Please R/R and tell me if I should continue. This scene takes place in an alternate beginning of the pilot episode.
Chapter 1: First They Giveth
Pryce Halliwell pressed herself against the dining room wall nervously, listening to her older sisters' whispered conversation that was close to becoming an argument.
"She set herself up, Piper, she did it all on her own, and she should have to bail herself out," Prue hissed, thrusting her thumb upward to indicate their sister Phoebe's location upstairs.
"I said it once and I'll say it again, Phoebe's just as much entitled to The Manor as we are. Besides, with Grams gone and Dad God-knows-where, we need each other more than ever."
"Easy for you to put aside your problems, she wasn't with your fiancé."
"Prue, I thought you were working on that."
"You should have still told me she was coming, I could have had time to prepare."
"You only would have prepared a bigger speech for me about all of this. As it is, we should really stop arguing about what's already done. We'll upset Pryce."
Pryce was a sensitive, empathetic girl, even she herself admitted that, and was still having a hard time dealing with the death of Grams, the woman who had adopted her and the only mother she'd ever known. Nonetheless, she was getting better, especially after going to a counselor suggested by Piper, much to the dismay of Prue. Prue had felt that since it was a family problem, they could handle it on their own. Her complaints had stopped when she saw the change in her youngest sister.
Despite the admittance of her own sensitivity, she didn't want her sisters constantly worrying about whether or not things upset her. Breezing into the parlor, she tried to put on what she thought was an appropriate, nonchalant manner for someone a month from eighteen.
"What's up, guys? Is Phoebe getting the boot?"
The two eldest exchanged a glance before Prue answered.
"Not today, sweetie." She put her arm around Pryce's shoulders. "But the first guy I bring home that she lays eyes on . . ."
"I'll warn her. I wanna go check if she pried the attic door open yet." Pryce made a move to head upstairs, but Prue tightened her grip to stop the girl in her tracks.
"She's not going to get in there, and I don't think you should even try. Ever since she dug up that Ouja board, she's been hell bent on getting that door open. There's probably nothing up there but dust bunnies, anyway." Pryce knew that this statement meant the discussion was closed.
"Fine," Pryce griped, heading upstairs and hiding out in her room for a while, halfheartedly reading Lord of the Flies for English class before sneaking up to Phoebe to offer her assistance.
"Don't creep up like that, Pryce," Phoebe scolded in a whisper after her sister's sudden appearance behind her made her jump.
"Sorry," Pryce breathed excitedly. "Didja make any progress?"
"Did Prue tell you that you shouldn't be trying to come up to the attic?"
"Nope."
"Well," Phoebe rolled her eyes. "There's a change."
"She said neither of us should be trying."
"Smart aleck," Phoebe breathed through pursed lips as one last tug finally got the door jimmied open. "Paydirt! Walk quietly, little one, or else we'll get busted."
As they entered the dim, musty attic, Pryce quickly pressed her hands to her face to muffle a sneeze that earned a disapproving look from Phoebe.
"Allergies," she defended quietly, heading over to the first trunk she laid eyes on while her older sister headed for a larger one by the window.
The trunk opened with a squeak and more dust flew at her but she held back another sneeze as she examined its contents: Clothes that presumably had belonged to Grams and Patty, the older girls' mother. As she dug deeper, she found stacks of yellowed photos, papers and envelopes.
She plucked out a particularly fat, heavy envelope with her name written on it in Grams' distinctive script. Looking around, she saw that Phoebe was engrossed in whatever she had found, Pryce opened the envelope and unfolded the papers. As she shuffled through them, she noticed every single one was blank.
Furrowing her brow, she stuffed the papers into her pocket, replaced the envelope and walked over to her older sister.
"Find anything interesting?" she asked, evidently startling Phoebe again.
"Yeah," she replied after catching her breath. "It's some really old book, but the pages are empty."
"Huh," Pryce mused, sitting down on the floor to get a good look. She wondered if she should talk about the similarly blank papers she had found, but decided against it, fearing they'd spend the rest of the night digging through the attic looking for mysterious notes addressed to all of them. "Nothing in there at all?"
"Not that I can find, but some of these pages seem to be turning themselves." She began to turn the pages faster, as if to elude whatever force was exerting itself upon the book. "I just want one clue, one page with something on it."
As if directly answering her request, the book flipped to a printed page and stayed there, the old script staring up at the sisters.
"A poem?" Pryce offered, looking at the passage apprehensively.
"Something like that," Phoebe breathed, taking in the designs around the script, designs that looked like symbols, but symbols for what? One looked like the symbol on the cover of the book.
As rain outside began to pound on the window, Phoebe read the passage aloud. As she spoke the words, both sisters felt goosebumps rise on their flesh as a chill went over them. As she began the last line, there was a flash of lightening. When she finished, there was a loud clap of thunder and their light, a single bulb hanging from the ceiling, flickered out.
"Let's get out of here," Pryce suggested in a wavering voice. At Phoebe's nod, they headed downstairs quickly.
As they headed to their respective bedrooms, Pryce noted Phoebe had kept the book, and as she closed her own door, she put the old envelope into her sock drawer, figuring she had had enough excitement for the night.