I: Slumber Party

"The Power of Three will set you free…" Piper read the inscription on the back of the spirit board, resting on the dining room table. Clad in her pajamas, she eyed her sister just across from her, studying the inscription while clad in a fluffy robe. "I never asked Grams what that meant." The corner of her lips tugged in disappointment. There were so many words left unsaid between the pair. Piper thought about the deceased matriarch every day, inventing the conversations that slipped past her fingertips in the little time they shared together.

"It probably meant the three of us needed a break from Prue," Phoebe said sarcastically, flipping the spirit board to the side with the calligraphic letters of the words 'Yes' and 'No' inscribed on the bottom.

While Piper could understand the youngest sister's frustration with their eldest sister's rigidity, there was a part of her that sympathized with Prue. Prue's strength had been a fortress to her sisters after their mother's passing. The sisterhood might have been broken but the love was still there. As she continued to search her sister's face, Phoebe slumped in her chair.

"I know that you're on her side."

"It's…"

"It's not that I'm not-"

"On her side, I know. That's just you, Piper." Her hand pressed at the nape of her neck.

"Maybe I should check on her." Piper said, her eyes darting down towards the board.

"Absolutely not."

"Well, you did just barge in on her."

A glint of evil flickered in the baby sister's eye. "Yeah! She was so ticked off, wasn't she?"

"Prue? Are you going to allow Phoebe to ruin your night? Here. Try this." The eldest matriarch, Penelope Halliwell, held a wooden spoon to the eldest's mouth. "Blow."

"Grandma. It's going to be spicy and I need to look cute."

"You look fine," Grams replied, admiring her granddaughter while Prue sat with her chin in hand at the counter, deep in thought. "I don't know why girls these days are so worried about looking for, why does it even freaking matter?" With a bit of fury, she stirred the chunky soup, lined with root vegetables.

"No, your sancocho is always spicy, Grams." Prue retorted.

The eldest sister stood at her vanity mirror, a stagnant tear at the edge of her eye. The fury that rose in her face made Prudence flush red for a brief moment.

The ribbon unraveled.

But she had always known.

The binding had come undone once the casket was lowered. Grams had rosary beads in hand when they buried her. And Phoebe was nowhere to be found.

"Hmm…" she pondered outloud, her hand gripping the edge of her vanity's table.

Were her sisters ready?

It wasn't up to her at this point. It was up to destiny. With a devilish grin to her by her matriarch, Penny Halliwell, Prue opened a dresser and pulled out a sketch pad and a red crayon.

Centering her mind, she opened the sketch pad and drew a simple door. Lighting incense next to her, she inhaled deeply.

"Just like I taught you, Prudencia…" Her grandmother's voice echoed in her ear like a dove flying from the rooftop.

"When you find your path is blocked, all you have to do is knock."

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Prudence Halliwell sat on the loveseat in the living room, magazine in hand. She rifled through it aimlessly until a familiar turn of the key perked up her ears. "Piper?" Her voice rang out against the wooden floors of the foyer.

"No, it's just me." Penny Halliwell huffed, moisture tracking on the floor with every step closer into the living.

"Hi, Grandma."

"Mmm." Pointed.

Grams made her way round to the living room, a lithe frame under a heavy sundress drenched in water. With a lean against the threshold, her arms folded. "What do you want now, Prue?"

"I found a pack of cigarettes in your dresser. Dr. Wyatt says they're bad for you."

In a fury, Penelope whipped around to the other side of the living room table. Hands at her hips, she was prepared for verbal warfare. "What were you doing in there? Spying on me?!"

"No, I wasn't." Prudence's eyes lower to a vase filled with flowers. It begins to turn on its own axis.

"I said stop right there!" Penelope raised a single arm and the vase shattered completely. Wet daffodils scattered across the mahogany stained table.

"I'm sorry." Prue lowered her head, a single tear lingered at the corner. "I'm just scared."

"Of what? Of your destiny? You were always the matriarch after me, Prudencia. You don't have anything to fear." Penelope sat next to her granddaughter, lifted her chin. Caramel complexion stained with rivers of tears.

"I'm afraid of our curse."

"You mean our blessing."

"No, I mean our curse. Warren witches are meant to die to protect good. Ancestral magic has been banned by the council for over a millenia."

Penelope swatted away her hand. "What does the council know anyway? They're all idiots." Grams rolled her deep brown eyes.

Prue howled alongside the moon, laughter on the brink of the moon. A crackle of thunder lit the night sky before a slam occurring within the bowels of the attic.

Her sister's screams could be heard from downstairs.

The attic door had flung open against the wall to make a deafening slam.