Rating: This is a PG-13/Tstory. Mild exclamations, some elements may be unsuitable for some.

Chapter One: Before Something Came

Tuesday, Late Afternoon

Roadway in The City

I don't really remember why she was out there. All I know is I saw her- a kid maybe no more than four or five, lying in the middle of that abandoned street, soaking wet, looking like she'd been hit by car. I really knew I should be getting home- Phoebe and Piper were gonna kill me if I didn't get home in time, but I stopped and went to turn her over, to see if she was breathing.

She had on a little necklace that said "Rose Isabelle" and she was very pale, almost white. Her hair was slightly lighter than mine but still very dark, and her clothes were really typical of a kid that age. I tapped her on the shoulder a few times, but she was unresponsive.

I debated what to do for a few minutes. I could call 911- but they might not get here in time to save her, who ever she was. I could drive her,(I wasn't even a half a mile from the hospital from where I was), but they would probably want to know what in the hell I was and what I was doing with a five year kid that wasn't mine.
I decided I would take that chance. Gently, I picked her up and placed her in the backseat of my car, throwing a blanket on her that I'd left in there. Lucky me.

According to the doctor, Primrose (What a coindence, a P name! I would have never thought someone would have named a kid Primrose though.) Isabella James, aged five, had a fractured wrist and a case of hypothermia. It took a lot of explaining to them as to why I had been there, but since they really had no proof explaining as to why I'd "abduct" her, they let it slide. She woke up apparently an hour or so after she stablized. She was somewhat in awe of what had happened, but she was only five, you really couldn't blame her, could you?

A few minutes after she stablized, her mother along with her father was arrested, and her other child, a son only about three weeks, was taken into state custody. It was really kind of sad, actually. According to Primrose, her father had been happy to get a boy, because he despised having a "useless" girl. He felt Primrose didn't need to be alive anymore, so he drove her to that street, threw her out of the car, and hit her with it, according to her mother.

Speaking of her mother, she was really out of it. Her name was Abby Mara James, and you could tell she had a really tough time with her husband and and her new baby. But Primrose, she'd said, wasn't hers or her husband's.

She was a child sent from hell. A witch, sent to ruin the lives of others and the world's.

Yeah right.

Witches don't exist. That is so stupid, I told Primrose as I walked her out of that hospital about a week or two later. Surprisingly, they'd (the state)said I could take care of her until her parents got out or until she turned eighteen, whichever came first.I guess I had a bit of a reputation, or maybe someone out there managed to convince them to let me keep her, even though she wasn't a blood relative. It was odd, but she and my sisters, despite my fears, got along fine. Phoebe called her "my adopted little sister." Piper didn't like her as much, though (she was too noisy, according to her, but then again, it seems like Piper's constantly PMS-ing), but she put up with her.

I was so naive, I would say later, because about three days later, everything in our world was going to change. "Sheer Irony," Primrose would say later, "That's a really kick in the side."

More a kick in my side, really.

Halliwell Manor

Friday, Midnight

Primose was awakened to the loud crash of thunder and the blinding shimmer of lightening. She shook her head and yawned. Midnight thunder, never good. Quietly, she stepped out of her room for a moment- maybe it had been for good- she did need to pee a little.

CREAK.

What was that? A door, pushed open by a wind, most likely. She sighed, and ran over on tiptoes to the noise. It was the attic door; she'd never seen it open in the short time that she'd been in the Halliwell house.Quietly, she tried to open the door.

It opened.

Primrose peeked into the room. An old book, soaked with raindrops and quite raggedy, sat quite ditzily placed on a little stand, opened to a page at the very front. Her curiosity got the best of her and she looked at the page opened, and started reading.

"Hear now the words of the witches,
The secrets we hid in the night,
The oldest of gods are invoked here,
The Great work of magic is sought
In this night and in this hour,
I call upon the ancient power,
Bring your power to we children four,
We want the power, give us the power."

The five year old raised her eyebrows in mystery. She decided it was best to get back to bed, the sisters would be a little annoyed if they caught her up this late.

Somewhere in San Fransisco, a young mother sat in her little chair in a room in a mental hospital, smiling crazily. "It has happened," she said, dreamily. "The children have been reborn and the terrors of hell have been wrought anew on this land! Save yourself, Rose, undo your undoing, or the sisters will take your soul over with their evil! No, no, no!" the mother's anguished screams of bloodcurdling proportion caused a doctor to run in madly and restrain the distraught blonde haired woman, forcing her to calm down.

Rocking back and forth, she whispered to herself quietly, "Back, back, the charmed ones are back, to wrought evil anew onto this world." She didn't know a dark force was watching her, and smiling as he spread the news to his fellow demons: the charmed ones were back, and he planned to seduce the middle one.