Chapter 4 - Plans and Nightmares

"So, that was effective." Prudence sighed as she slammed the book shut.

"It was painful." Chris replied, pressing the towel harder to his bleeding hand.

"You offered to do it." Lydia pointed out.

"And offered Wyatt and me." Linnie added, looking at her the cut on her own hand with dismay.

"You could have said no." Chris replied.

"I did." Linnie replied. "But Wyatt seemed to think it was a brilliant idea."

"We needed a power of three, and Chris and I are the oldest."

"And I don't count?" She snapped.

"Look, that spell didn't work, it hurt, but we need to move on and find another one, OK?" Sydney said loudly.

"We've used all the ones in the book." Phoenix said.

"Maybe we need more power behind them." Chris said slowly. "Maybe our separate powers of three aren't enough."

"Why wouldn't they be?" Paris asked.

"Because you're all so young." Wyatt replied.

"So are you." Phoenix cried.

"So we might not have enough power." Chris continued.

"So what, you want all nine of us to say the spells together?" Wyatt asked.

"Twelve." Parker corrected coldly.

"Huh?"

"Twelve. Me, Perry and Preston are Charmed too, we can help." Parker said, glaring at Wyatt, his blue eyes cold, in the way only his mother could do.

"Do you guys count?" Lydia asked carefully. "I mean you were evil for years, and you haven't ever used any power of three stuff."

"That doesn't mean we don't count." Perry replied. "We can try."

"They don't trust us." Preston said simply.

"Of course they do -" Leo began, but Sydney cut him off.

"No, we don't. And can you blame us? It's not just the fact that until a six weeks ago we didn't know you existed, but when we did, it was 'cause you were trying to kill us."

"How are we supposed to trust you after that?" Paris agreed.

"You're just strangers to us." Prudence nodded. "Strangers who tried to kill us."

"Maybe we are, but that's our mum who's out there, and ours is the only one who's bleeding." Preston snapped. "You can't stop us helping get her back."

"And for your information," Parker snapped. "We're having a hard time trusting you lot, too. It goes against everything we've ever known - but we're actually trying."

"You don't trust us?! Well -"

"Lydia, stop it." Linnie interrupted. "This isn't about trust, it's about survival. And getting our parents back. We don't have to trust each other, we don't have to get along, but we have to work together. It's the only way."

"For someone so small, she talks a lot of sense." Chris said.

"Fine. Truce. Whatever." Lydia muttered.

"Good. So what are we trying first?" Linnie asked.

----

Several spells later, and no luck, the Halliwell children were generally disheartened. Henry and Phoenix had both fallen asleep on aunt Pearl's indestructible sofa, and the others seemed to be going the same way.

Sat in a wooden chair by the small circular table, Preston had thought he wouldn't be able to fall asleep. Flicking through one of the old the old books from the shelf, he leaned back, fighting to keep his eyes open. After a few more seconds though, his eyes closed, and he drifted off to an uncomfortable sleep.

It was dark, almost too dark to see, but he was used to darkness. Having spent most of his life creeping around the underworld, he had learnt how to recognise the slightest movement, to hear the quietest sound. He heard a sound now, and turned around, almost smiling. It felt like it had been so long since he had killed, and he missed the smell of blood, the frantic gasping of the last breath, the sound of a body hitting the ground, the sight of death.

He raised his hand, the small jagged dagger comforting his hand. Aim. Aim and timing were the most important things in murder.

He never used to thing of it as murder, just as a way of life. He knew, now, that it was wrong, wrong to take life, and wrong to want to take life, but right now, he didn't care. It was close, his target. He could sense them, and his pulse quickened as he moved his arm slightly to the left, following his instincts.

It happened quickly from there. All the best kills did. His prey moved forward, close enough for him to make out the faint outline, and he threw the dagger. He saw it fly through the air, somehow able to see the blade glint, even in the darkness. He heard the gasp of pain and shock and the sound of the dagger hitting it's target. His heard quickened breathing, and the body fall to the floor, just like he'd longed to. He could smell the blood, and it made him dizzy with giddiness. Then, all around him, the old wooden torches that adorned the walls burst into flames, and he could see. He smiled, knowing he would get to see life slip away, instead of just hearing the quickened breathing become more and more shallow until it stopped.

But then he saw the dark long hair, and even though it was hiding the face of the woman, bent forward in her sitting position, he knew who it was.

"Mum!" He gasped, and was down beside her in a second. "Mum...?" Prue slowly raised her head, her face white, her eyes wide. Her breath was shallow and quick, struggling to gather in the oxygen as the blood poured from her heart, soaking into her clothes, pooling on the floor. "No, no, no." Preston gasped. "No, I didn't do it, I didn't...I..."

Prue fell suddenly backwards, her breathing more and more struggled. Preston tried to raise her into a sitting position, as though it would help somehow, but her body was heavy, and he couldn't do anything. He couldn't stop it. He had cause this, he had done this, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. The dead weight he was struggling to lift was the proof that she was slipping away, all because of him.

Dead weight. Dead.

He knew it was her last breath even before it was drawn. The desperate gasping sound told him she wasn't getting the air she needed, and he heard it catch in her throat. Then her eyes rolled back, and she was gone.

"NO!"

"Preston. Preston. Preston, wake up. Preston!" Someone was hitting his face, but he couldn't respond. She was dead, dead and it was his fault. Dead.

"NO!" He cried again, but he opened his eyes, involuntarily. When he saw their faces looking at him, with fear and curiosity, he realised he had been dreaming. It was just a dream. A nightmare.

"Are you OK?" Parker asked him, obviously trying to act as though the others weren't there. Preston hadn't admitted to anyone what was in his dreams, not even his mum, even though she was the one who often held him until he calmed down. But this time the words came out before he could even think them, never mind stop them.

"I killed her, I killed her, I didn't mean to but I killed her." He gasped. "It was dark and I didn't see who it was but I didn't care I just threw the knife and I killed her, I killed her."

"Preston, calm down." Parker said quickly. "Calm down, breathe."

"She couldn't breathe. She was dying and I couldn't do anything it was all my fault I killed her!"

"Preston." Parker said sternly.

"I watched her last breath die, I saw the blood, so much blood, too much blood, I killed her, I killed her." He didn't register the way everyone was looking at each other, he didn't care. "They can't stop it, I'm still evil, I don't want to be evil anymore but I can't stop it, I have to kill. I killed her. I'm evil." He could hardly breathe himself now, air ripping at his throat like knifes, his eyes wild and frantic.

"Preston, you didn't kill anyone. You were asleep, you were dreaming. You didn't kill anyone."

Preston didn't say anything, as he slowly calmed down, slowly realised he was back, back to reality. And he jumped to his feet, ran from the room.