All characters are property of Spelling Entertainment and whomever else owns the characters in Charmed.

This takes place before the sisters found out that Cole was Balthazar.

Prue Halliwell tossed in her sleep, finding no comfort among the cushy mattress of her bed or the comforters and quilts that covered it. The San Francisco night was burning, and even though most of the house was sweltering, even with the air on full blast, Prue was still cold. She twisted and turned in the depths of the bed, her body chilled, yet sweating.

In her dreams, things moved quickly, rushing past her on all sides in hazes of black, white and grey. She turned abruptly as movement ceased. She found herself downstairs in the Halliwell manor, just beyond the foyer. She watched in horror as death loomed in the air. She knew it was the past, had been in the scene before. While last time, she could only see the events that had unfolded before her, in REM state, she could almost see the black hooded figure of death looming overhead, hovering, waiting to snatch away the soul of a good man.

Somewhere deep in her consciousness, she knew something was wrong. This wasn't her power. She didn't have premonitions, or flashes of the past. That was her sister's department. Something nagged at her, telling her that she shouldn't be seeing any of it, that there was someone, somewhere putting these things into her mind and for a reason. Before she could concentrate on what that reason could be, however, the scenes changed.

Piper's wedding. The one that didn't happen. She saw herself on the floor as her astral projection took off on a motorcycle behind a man. Piper screamed at her, but Prue didn't listen. Phoebe went to her on the floor. Piper ran off, declaring the wedding over, indefinitely. In the corner, a figure stood, wavering, just barely in view. He flickered out as Prue saw the black and white forms of her mother and grandmother, then reappeared behind Grams. It was the same man whose death she had just watched.

Life streamed past again, like a DVD on fast-forward, then sped up until it was all a blur again. Prue looked up and there was nothing above her. Everything but herself and the blurs were stark white. She looked down, and though she stood on something solid, there seemed to be no floor, no lines to distinguish where the ground ended and the walls began.

On the left, the scenes continued to speed by in rapid motion. On the left, the wall stopped. Instead of being inside the picture, she watched it playout on a sort of wide screen with no top or bottom. It just hovered in the air. She saw herself flying across the manor, smashing through the large bay window. A few minutes later, she saw Piper landing beside her. Again, he was standing just off the side of the scene, watching, head shaking.

The right sped up again in a blur. The left stopped.

Prue turned to see her sisters at a funeral. Her funeral. Her father was there, standing off to the side. Neither Piper nor Phoebe looked at him. She saw Cole flicker from the man she knew into Balthazar, then back again. Once more, the apparition hung near. At Balthazar's form, he shook his head. He said nothing, but moved his hand in front of him. Cole/Balthazar disappeared. He hadn't been touching either of the remaining Halliwell women. They hadn't been touching him. He hadn't really been there, at least not in physical form.

The world stopped and Prue screamed as the halt screeched in her head.

She was in a room, and for the first time, there was real color, but only one. Bright red, crimson, scarlet dotted the grey tinted clothes of Piper and Phoebe Halliwell as they stood before a throng of demons and minions. Without the Power of Three, they weren't strong enough to fight them off. Prue could only watch in horror as her sisters were cut down. The sky dimmed as the last bit of Halliwell blood spilled onto the ground, then went completely black. The sound of laughter spurted forth just before the essence of the Source seeped up from the ground and came together in a man's shape. Again, a shimmering apparition hovered in the scene, this time over the lifeless forms of Piper and Phoebe.

Everything vanished. Prue was alone in a room that had no walls, ceiling or floor. She stood straight, seemingly floating in an irridescent space. She dropped to her knees and though her body stopped in a kneeling position, she felt nothing beneath her.

"What do you want from me!"

Prue sat up in the bed, her chest aching from her forced intakes of breaths. Sweat beaded her skin, gelling in place. Suddenly, she was no longer cold, but so hot that she threw the covers from the bed and jumped up. Her gown was short, hanging just past the middle of her thighs. She walked to the window and looked out, but there was nothing to see but the moon and the silence of her neighborhood at night.

No one came rushing in, which Prue took to mean that she hadn't screamed her demand in wakefulness. However, the shrill of her voice still rang in her head, bouncing off the walls of her skull. Her hand to her head, she padded barefoot out of the bedroom and down the hall, stopping at the bathroom door. She walked in and hopped a few steps at the cold of the tile floor before getting used to the chill.

Looking down at the faucet as she turned on the cold water, Prue reached up blindly and opened the medicine cabinet. She turned her head up to find a bottle of aspirin, then as she closed the door and stared into the mirror, dropped the bottle into the sink. She closed her eyes, shook her head, then looked up again. He was still there, though unlike her dream, he wasn't an apparition. He was full, slender, looking as though he had never died.

"It's not their time yet, Prue."

She jumped and whirled around. There was no one there. A few years earlier, she would have just assumed it was the remnant of a dream, her mind pulling out what was left of a memory of someone she had grown up with, loved, and watched pass before her eyes. Since learning of her destiny as a Charmed One, however, she had more belief that he was really there, in some fashion or another.

Prue walked forward and as she passed through the spot where he had stood, a chill moved through her body, then was quickly pushed aside by a warmth of comfort and familiarity. She closed her eyes and turned, hugging herself tightly. She walked back to the sink and picked up the dropped bottle of pills. Her headache grew and she fumbled with the childproof cap until it popped open. She looked up again, and when the bottle slipped from her hands, half of the small white tablets fell down the drain with the rushing water.

"It's not your time yet, either, Prue."

Instead of turning this time, she stared at the mirror. She watched him smile, wink his right eye. His hand came out towards her, and all she felt was the same warmth as before touch her shoulder. No touch of skin to skin or brush of cloth from the hanging sleeve of his grey jacket. Not even really warm air as much as a sensation that if he really had touched her, she would feel calm, at peace.

Slowly, he faded from her view. His eyes were the last to go and they sparkled as they passed into nothingness, a twinkle that she remembered well, when he was up to something or just wanted her to be suspicious. Prue reached out slowly. Her fingertips touched the mirror, then she pressed her palm against the cold glass. She took in a deep breath, let it fall shakily from her lips, then whispered, "Andy."