A/N: I should add some clarification to my note at the end of the last chapter... Paige is aware that she is Sam's daughter, that part isn't a secret from them. The only secret is that he was a whitelighter.

Chapter Three

"Woah," Paige said, looking up at the peeling paint and overgrown lawn as they pulled into the driveway. "You weren't kidding about the house being a fixer-upper."

"Yeah, the neighbors didn't exactly have many kind words to share with us," Piper said as she turned off the engine. "Until Grams died of course, and then everyone came by to ask if we were selling."

"Nice," Paige said sarcastically.

They walked up the front steps and opened the door.

"Is it everything you remembered?" Piper asked.

"Yeah, actually," Paige commented, looking at the photos on the walls. "It's like a time warp."

"Oh please, you only moved out three years ago."

"I know, but it's weird. It's like I just stepped into the 90s or something. I mean, look at this stuff," Paige said, gesturing to the TV. "Grams never got anything new."

"I know," Piper commented. "Try using her computer."

"Well this is a recent addition, at least," Paige said, coming across a photo of her and her sisters.

"If by recent you mean over a year ago," Piper corrected as she peered at the photo. In it, the four of them smiled at the camera during the last Christmas dinner they'd all had together, guilted by Grams into looking like they were actually enjoying each other's company. If Piper's memory served, that might have been the same dinner that had ended with Phoebe chucking wine at Prue's face.

"Were we really that close?" Paige asked.

"Close? Where the hell do you get close?" Piper joked, moving into the next room. Paige decided it wasn't worth telling her sister that she was actually referring to the physical distance between each of them in the photo.

"So I know I'm being paranoid, but we should probably check around the house and make sure nothing got damaged in the earthquake, no gas leaks that are slowly killing us while we sit in here or anything," Piper suggested.

Paige nodded. "I'll take upstairs, you take downstairs?"

"Sounds good."

Paige scanned the walls of the bedroom she'd formerly shared with Phoebe, resisting the urge to sit down on the bed, go through her dresser and get nostalgic. There would be time for that later, and the purpose of her being here was so that Piper wouldn't get stuck with all the work while the rest of them lazed around. She walked back into the hallway, about to head down the stairs, when she glanced at the attic door.

It had been sealed up for years - since before she was even born - but if Piper wanted her to search the house for anything dangerous, she should at least try and see if she could get in. Who knows, she told herself as she walked down the hall, there could be an electrical fire blazing away in there, waiting to kill both of us. Or maybe the previous owner was a murderer, and when the next owners open it up they'll find bodies in there and try to have us arrested.

She shook herself out of her runaway thoughts. "Get a grip, Paige," she said out loud.

She walked up to the door and placed a hand on the knob. It turned, but that wasn't unexpected - the doors in the house were so old that they could only be locked with skeleton keys, which had a bolt separate from the handle mechanism. Paige could remember many a frustrating morning of turning the bathroom door handle uselessly as one of her sisters shouted that they'd just be another minute. What was more surprising, however, was that the door actually gave when she pushed on it.

Paige was amazed. She hadn't even had to shove it or anything. Perhaps the earthquake had warped the doorframe, she thought as she stepped through and found a lightswitch on the wall.

"Woah," she said as she looked around. "Piper, get up here!"

"So she didn't even say goodbye to you?" the cashier asked as she counted out change.

"No, it was pretty much the same as usual," Phoebe answered as she restocked the napkin dispensers.

"That's cold."

"That's Prue." Phoebe picked up a rag and started wiping the counter. "This is why I didn't tell them I was back in the city, y'know? It's like everything I do isn't good enough. I could have come back as a nun and Prue would've asked me where I stole the costume from."

"Hey ladies, less chatting, more working," a stern, pudgy man ordered as he stuck his head out from a side office.

"We are working. We're not allowed to talk at the same time?" the cashier asked.

"No, Emily, you're not," the manager continued. "You especially. You can't be distracted while you're counting out money."

Emily looked as though she had a retort in mind, but bit her tongue.

"And you, Fanny-"

"Phoebe," Phoebe corrected.

"Whatever, just make the drinks, okay?" He ducked back into his office.

Phoebe sighed as she walked over to the espresso machine.

"Get used to it," Emily muttered to her.

"I'm gonna have to," Phoebe replied. She listened as Emily took a customer's order, and began pumping hazelnut syrup into a cup once it was repeated to her. As she did so, she suddenly had the clearest image of her apartment flash before her eyes.

Phoebe paused for a second, wondering why she'd thought of it, and why so vividly, before realizing she still had a drink to make, and started to fill the cup with coffee. As she watched the liquid pour out, the image suddenly returned to her. Phoebe was about to shake it off again, when she realized - had she remembered to put her rent check in the mailbox the other day? Suddenly it wasn't just her apartment she was seeing - it was herself, standing on the sidewalk outside the building next to a trash bag full of her belongings.

Phoebe cried out. The coffee had spilled over and burned her hand.

"Phoebe! Are you okay?" Emily asked, rushing over to her.

"What's going on out here?" the manager asked, emerging once again.

"It's fine, I'm fine," Phoebe insisted, helping Emily mop up the spilled coffee.

She walked over to the trash can to throw out the wet paper towels, and began to untie her apron.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" her manager said. "Get back to work!"

"I'm sorry," Phoebe said, now thoroughly concerned by the possibility of missing her rent payment. "I have to go."

"No way. I just gave you the whole morning off."

Phoebe paused, but then put her apron down on the counter.

"You walk outta here, you're not coming back in!" the manager threatened. Phoebe left.

A/N: I'll be away for a few days this week, so I apologize if the next update might be a little delayed. But I hope everyone likes how the story is going!