Disclaimer: Charmed belongs to Constance M Burge, Aaron Spelling television company and the WB. Supernatural and other related entities belong to Eric Kripke and Warner Brothers in association with Wonderland sound and vision. All transcripts were found at TwizTv. No infringement intended.

Spoilers: All through season 1 of Charmed and up to the first episode of season 5 of Supernatural.

A/N: Thank you all for the alerts and favourites, I really appreciate it. Please R&R :)

Chapter 2. Nightmares

Prue sat down opposite the man who called himself Dean Winchester, beside her Piper and on the chair to their side, Phoebe. He smiled at them, looking ever so calm and collected.

"Who are you?" Phoebe asked, her eyes narrowed at him.

"Dean Winchester, I'm a-"

"Warlock? Wizard? Demon?" Piper said the words quickly, her voice a little edgy and hard as she did. He stared at her.

"Neither."

"Then what?" she replied, her eyes burning into his, her arms crossed over her chest. "Don't tell me you're a ghost."

He laughed, and when Prue turned to look at Piper, she could tell she wasn't amused. Prue reached out a hand and put it on Piper's thigh. She looked at her, and Prue smiled slightly and barely shook her head. She knew Piper was still a little stuck on the idea of having feelings for a ghost, and she had been in pretty bad shape when he'd finally passed on. However, Dean shouldn't have to pay for that. Besides, she and Phoebe had been seconds away from casting a love spell when she came walking through the kitchen door. Piper was obviously ready for something new.

"So tells about yourself," Prue said patiently. "And how come you know… So much."

Dean shrugged and pulled his mouth together in one corner. "I uhm, I was born in Kansas. I'm an older brother, always took care of my brother, more or less." Prue knew the feeling in his eyes; he was protective of his brother, not even saying his name proved that. And he felt responsible in a way only Prue could relate too. She'd always been there for her sisters, she'd been out there working for them, to make sure they could be kids. She saw the same flicker of lost time in Dean's eyes.

"Yeah, but, I mean," Phoebe began. "Who are you?"

He smiled, half sheepish, half sad, all together bitter. "I'm a hunter."

Prue scoffed. "A what?"

"A hunter. You know, tracking and killing the supernatural bastards? Demons? Werewolves? Wendigos? Vampires?"

Phoebe stared at him, her jaw slightly dropped and her eyes wide. "Vampires?"

"Not the point," Prue reminded her.

"But-" she looked at Prue. "He said vampires." She hissed it at her, liked Dean couldn't hear her if she did that. Piper sighed and waved both her hands at Dean, who froze; his finger pointed, his mouth open, his eyes half closed – he'd been about to say something.

"Why is this guy here? I mean, yeah, hunter, supernatural, but Prue, have you told him?" She was almost chastising her, and Prue wanted to smile. Piper had sounded so much like her just now.

"No. He knew."

"He knew? And you brought him here, of all places?" Phoebe chimed in.

"Yes."

They stood in front of her, staring down at her like she was a child who had brought candy home from the shop without paying. "Why?" they said at the same time, hand on their hips and smoke almost coming out of their ears. She wanted to laugh. Was this what she looked like when she told them off?

"Because-"

"Because?" Piper repeated.

"I trust him!" She got up from the chair and looked from Dean to her sisters. "Okay? I trust him."

"Brilliant," Piper said, looking from Prue to Phoebe.

"So what do we do with him?" Phoebe said, looking at Dean.

Prue shrugged, a slight smile on her face.

Prue almost jumped, smiled and then took the phone. "This is Prue, who's this?" she said, a half a moment's hesitation. Another pause before she looked a little bothered. "Um, I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"Yeah, we met at Quake, well, we didn't actually meet, but. I sent you a glass of chardonnay and you sent it back. Still, you know, I was wondering-" Prue looked at Dean, whom sharpened when he saw her squirm. "-maybe you'd like to go out some time."

"Um, oh, look, as I told the waitress," she said, feeling a little more than uneasy. She looked to Dean for comfort and whished Andy had been with her a Quake the night before. Instead of cancelling. Again. "I'm just not available. How did you get my number, my name?" she asked, her voice a little sharper.

But in return she got dial-tone.

"Hello?" she said into the beeping phone. She shook her head and hung up. She then continued to smile at Dean. "Some people…"

"Who was it?" he asked.

She looked over her shoulder and saw Piper and Phoebe at the stairs. "Some guy who sent me a drink at Quake, were Piper works."

"What did he want?" Piper asked.

Prue pursed her lips and didn't know if she should say, but then she knew she would have been pretty annoyed if one of her sisters did that to her. "He asked me out." She sounded a little off, even to herself. Dean put a soft hand on her arm, something that seemed new to him, and he looked a little out of his comfort zone when he smiled tentatively at her.

"Maybe I should stick around, after all?" And for some reason Prue said yes.

"Well, we're gonna go do what we were doing," Phoebe said.

"Excuse me?" Prue said. "Still?"

"Oh yeah, just cos you got some guy calling you, doesn't mean me and this one here," pointing her thumb at Piper. "Doesn't have guy-issues. Come on," she said, yanking on Piper's sleeve. Piper shrugged.

"What she said," she smiled, before following Phoebe.

"You're really serious about staying for a while?" Prue asked.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure. I was pointed in your direction for a reason, now I need to find out why."

"Okay, I'll get right on that too, only…"

He smiled at her. She smiled back. "Only?" he asked.

"I would kill for a bath."

"Go. I'll be here when you're done. I'll read some of these magazines I have never seen before in my life," he said, looking at the coffee table full of magazines. "And I'll look around the house, maybe something can clue me in."

"Okay then." She smiled at him again, heading up the stairs. He stood uncomfortably for a moment, then he finally took his jacket off and let out a breath, one he hadn't known he was holding.

Kit meowed as Phoebe and Piper came into the attic, looking at them from the sideboard she was sitting on. They smiled at her and headed over to the table in the middle of the room, sitting down on the cushions.

"Okay, so do you want to go first?" Phoebe asked.

"No," Piper frowned. "You go first."

"Okay."

Piper lit the candles slowly as then looked at Phoebe who nodded. Without a warning of her sneaky way, Phoebe reached over the table and snatched the paper out of Piper's hand, making her exclaim, obviously not happy. "Hey!" She glares at Phoebe, who chuckles and looked at the paper. "That's not fair," Piper complains. Phoebe gives her a look that says "So sue me" and then returns to look at the paper.

"You want a man who is single, smart, endowed-"

"Employed," she corrects her sharply, but by this point, she was more amused than anything. Phoebe did have a way of making things un-embarrassing. Ha! Yeah right.

"Oh, sorry. "Employed". A man who loves sleeping in on a Sunday, sunset bike rides, ha! Cuddling by a roaring fire-" Phoebe snickered a little, looking up at Piper. "And late night talks. A man who loves love as much as you do." Piper tried to stay unaware of some of the taunting, almost mocking in her sister's voice. "Wow, you really are a romantic."

"Yep," she snapped. "Your turn!" She reached over and snatched Phoebe's list from her, only Phoebe didn't seem half as indignant.

"You want the sexy, silent type that finds you driving through town on the back of a Harley at three o'clock in the morning… A man who appreciates scented candles, body oils and Italian sheets…" Piper looked up at her sister for a moment, the moment Phoebe needed to take back her paper.

"He's about hunger," Phoebe began, sounding like a commercial ad announcer, starting Piper laughing. "And even though you know all this, even though you know he'll never meet your friends of share a holiday meal with your family, you still can't stay away. And he recycles."

Piper snorted and looked at the paper. "He recycles?" she asked.

Phoebe took both the papers, the want-lists and rolled them into a tube. "Yeah, and I think it goes without saying that we both want a man who is, uhm…" She looked at Piper with a spark in her eye. "Well employed."

Downstairs Dean was flipping through some magazines, hearing distant laughing and the sound of running water. Only it didn't take too long before he was restless and wanted to explore. Besides, the magazine didn't tell him anything he needed to know. He didn't care if lettuce got soggy, or if the drapes didn't match the couch, and the Halliwell's didn't seem like they did either. So, instead of staying on the couch and enduring one more lame article, he got up and walked around the downstairs. He liked the kitchen, it seemed homey and cozy, as did the living room he had just been in, the conservatory he liked; it was so bright and the windows were his favorites.

He drifted up the stairs, going from room to room, slightly out of his head, not paying much attention at all. He could hear Phoebe and Piper upstairs, but the water sound had stopped. Actually. There was a little too little sound coming from the bathroom in general for a bath being taken…

He walked over to the only closed door. He tapped it gently.

No answer.

"Prue?" he said in a low voice. He knocked a little harder, but nothing.

The bubbles reaching up to touch her neck, the soft murmuring of the bursting and fizzing around her, Prue let herself close her eyes for a moment. She let out a sigh, the bubbles bursting and fizzing furiously as she did, and soon her breathing slipped into being heavy. By her side is a man, as the light in the ceiling turn a little red casting the bathroom in a reddish glow. His leather clothed hand reached out to touch Prue's cheek. At the unfamiliar touch Prue gasped and came alive with a start.

"Hello Prue."

She looked at him and then around the bathroom, only to land back on him. "Unh, who the hell-"

He leaned over the side, getting closer to her, invading her space and looking down into the bubbled water. He touched the bubbles, moving them with his finger, and then looked at her lustfully. "Who am I and how did I get in? Hmm?"

But the way he was acting was setting Prue off – she felt uneasy and more than a little angry. "I don't care, just get-"

"-Out of the bathroom?"

She knew it then, he wasn't safe, he was the opposite and quite frankly out of his mind. She turned quickly yo get the towel on the side of the tub, reaching for it while she called out to Piper, she called for help. Only when she did, he mocked her, doing the same in a weak voice. Then he clamped his hand down over her wrist, stopping her from taking the towel. The smile that lit his face made her skin crawl.

"Scream all you want, Prue. No one can help you."

"How did you-"

"Know what you were thinking? Know what you were going to say?"

She barely got the word out. "Yes."

"I am in your unconsciousness," he said, that same smile on his face that made her skin crawl. "I know you every thought and desire." His eyes were veiled with barely contained lust.

"Who are you?"

With that constant and unchanging smile he reached out one of his black leather hands to touch her, the intent to brush away some of her hair from her face. Only she pulled back, cringing away from him. Still he was overly confident.

"I'm the man of your dreams."

Glaring at him, she said the words the first time. "You're not real. You don't exist."

He smiled.

"That's what your mother used to say, isn't it?" He titled his head. "Every night, before you went to sleep."

"You're not real, you don't exist," she reassured herself.

"As she tucked you in, she'd say-"

"You're not real, you don't exist," she told herself, looking away from the man, up to the ceiling.

"If you saw any monsters-"

Not being able to help herself, she shivered, shuddered and felt her stomach tighten. "You're not real, you don't exist," she insisted.

"-to tell yourself they weren't real."

"You are not real. You do not exist." Her voice trembled as he reached to pick up the bath sponge.

"They didn't exist?" he whispered, getting even closer into her personal space when he started washing her back, kissing her shoulder and breathing on her. Panicked, she tried to shy away, to slap him, to make him move away, to scream. But she couldn't. Not any of it.

"Why can't I move?"

He laughed, a laugh that was haunting and evil and without a doubt malicious. "Because," he said. "I am going to love you," his voice seemed to echo. "To death." Again, the echo scared her. As he brushed the sponge over her bare back, she felt the pain tear into her, her skin being removed, the bloody water and… Prue gasped, while he laughed in pleasure. She could see it in his eyes when she looked at him. The sadist in him was having the time of his life. Suddenly the lights started to flash, as he laughed at her, taking the top of her head in his hand and pushing her down under the water.

No. Not water. Not this way, Prue pleaded struggling against him. The lights flickered and danced above them, as he held her head down. She whimpered, her heart beating a hundred miles a minute and then-

A knock at the door. "Prue?"

She knew that voice. She wanted to call out. The man turned around to face the door and then without warning, the door slid open and everything was back to normal.

Prue emerged from the water, breathing heavy and crying. She curled up into a ball, and Dean just stared at her. "Prue, are you okay?" She started to shake her head, she would have if it was one of her sisters.

"Sure," she barely got out, her voice still stuck with fear in her throat.

"You're sure? Cos you were silent as a mouse and then I heard crying and whimpering and, well, screaming." He looked concerned, leaning against the doorpost and his arms crossed over his chest.

"Yeah, I uh, I had a really bad thing."

He frowned. "A thing?"

"Yeah, yeah, but I'm okay now. So…"

"So, you're lying," Dean said. She looked at him, and all the fear she had felt seemed to go away in a spell. She actually managed a smile.

"I am. But, I'll get dressed and we can talk when I get out." He nodded shortly and then looked at her, not the least bit shy. Then another frown creased his forehead.

"Oh my god," he said, taking three long steps into the room and kneeling by her side. His warm skin touched her back, and she flinched. "What really happened Prue?" The worry was thick in his voice, and without thinking about him too much, she grabbed the towl to cover her front and stood up. She turned to the mirror and saw the scratches all the way down her back. She saw Dean's reflection behind her, his face the very mask of worry.

"Oh my god," she agreed.

"What happened?" he asked, putting a cup of tea in front of her. He was standing leaned against the sink, looking at her softly, while she sat on the stool, shaking her head.

"I don't know. One minute I was alone, tired, so I closed my eyes for a second and the next I knew, he was there."

"He?" Dean asked. He took a step forward and leaned on his hands against the kitchen island.

"The man from the restaurant, from Quake, the guy who sent me the wine and-"

"The guy who called you earlier?" She nodded. "That's not good," Dean mumbled. He touched his forehead and covered his face with the same hand. "I hate dream walkers," he said under his breath.

"Excuse me?" Prue said, looking at him with wide eyes.

"Oh, yeah, sorry." He fumbled to cover what he'd just said, but who was he kidding? He was still gonna tell her, maybe not today, maybe not this minute, but soon she'd know just about everything there was to know about him. How, he didn't know just yet. But he knew!

"Dean, just tell me, what is it that has you so- so bothered?"

"A few years back, well, or maybe, no, yeah, a few years back, a friend of mine, of the family, Bobby Singer, he was investigating this guy who could walk into dreams."

Prue's eyes widened and exhaled sharply. "Walk into dreams?"

"Yeah. It took some mojo, but a sip of this tea and then he could go into anybody's head he wanted to – as long as he had something of theirs, like saliva or something like that. Had to put it in the tea to connect to that particular brain."

Prue swallowed hard. "He doesn't have anything with my DNA, I sent the glass of wine back before even touching it. So it can't be the same thing."

And there it was. He wasn't in his world anymore. He was in hers. She had a whole different way of life, a whole other set of problems. "What is it you guys uhm, do exactly?" his eyebrows knitted together and looked at her.

"We're uhn, ah-" she laughed once, sharply and then smiled at him. "We're witches."

Dean looked at her, not looking at her differently or running screaming out the door, he just looked at her. "Okay, that makes everything easier."

She widened her eyes at him and gaped in surprise. "Easier?"

He nodded, a smile lighting his face.

"All right then," Prue said.

"It's all here, in their FBI files."

Andy threw the folders on Darryl's desk, and he sighed heavily. "Why do you do this to me?" he complained, but reached for the folders anyway.

"Three young women, completely unrelated, except for the fact that they all died the exact same way as the waitress."

Morris waved at the papers with one hand. "Medical examiner lists them all as jumpers. Case closed," he said, trying to sound final.

"Look at the crime photos," Andy said, filling both of their cups with coffee. "All the vics were found locked in their rooms. We got the M.O. of a serial killer here, Morris." Andy took a sip and looked at him. Damn.

"You've barely slept," Dean argued.

"I still need to go to work," Prue insisted, pouring coffee into a mug, and handing it to Dean before pouring one for herself. "I don't get paid to stay home and sleep Dean, I get payed to sell things. Many pretty things," she said, making it sound like he'd never heard of a job in his life. "And my bet is, you probably have a job too, somewhere." His eyes widened. He hadn't even thought about it.

"Maybe, but you should stay home. Here, were you're safe," he waved at the door leading to the dining room. "He's still out there, somewhere. And he wants you, for some reason that's completely unclear right now."

Prue winced, putting a half hurt face on, until he realized what he had said. He began to babble, but she stopped him, with a put up hand and a laugh. "Don't worry, I didn't think you meant it that way. But I still need to go to work. You should head home and see if you have a job to do too, don't you think?" she asked, her hair swaying as she left the kitchen.

"Is she always this stubborn?" he asked Phoebe.

"No. Sometimes she's worse."