Prue sat at the kitchen table, her favorite black, leather jacket on the back of her chair. Her blond hair hung down to the table, going down the back of her white shirt. She sat reading th paper, a cup of coffee near her. Nearby, Kit, the cat, meowed appreciatively for Prue had just filled her bowl. Prue looked at the front cover, and her insides churned. The cover said:

THREE MORE WITCHES TO

DIE AT MIDNIGHT

"That bastard," she said, looking at the front page as if it had said something rude to her.

"Talking about Leo," asked Piper, who had just walked in.

"No, Piper. Pratt," Prue said, giving the paper to Piper. Piper's eyes narrowed in anger. "Three more witches."

"What about them?" Asked Paige, walking in, grabbing a cup of coffee and sitting down closest to Prue. To Paige, it seemed Piper hated her. Though she was taking Phoebe's place in the Halliwell line.

Piper read the article on the withes:

"Today, March 20, 2009," says Nathanial Pratt, the man considered a hero to the world, "Our witch hunters have captured three more witches. They will be burned tonight. At midnight. We are doubling, tripling our efforts to capture these beings of evil. This is my promise to the world: We will rid our purity of these unclean evils. My promise. To you."

"I don't understand it. Why can't we just....I don't know....Like use our magic? Stop him?" Paige asked.

"Well," said Prue, "We can't. It's not possible. It's one power witches don't have. The power to control other's free will. And we can't kill him. We'd be in the same position as —,"

"Don't say her name," said Piper.

"Why not? I don't see what's wrong with using Phoebe's name." Said Prue.

"I just — Prue, I can't stand hearing her name. Not now. And we can't use magic, " said Piper, now addressing Paige, "I won't risk it. If we get caught — we could end up like — her."

"Piper, it's okay to say her name, you know. It's not going to kill you," said Paige, "I'm going to go to work to give them the report." She stood up and walked out to her small car, grabbing her keys on the way. Piper stood up too.

"I got a call yesterday," she said, "I — the future me — apparently owns a club: P3. So, I'm going to go there and check it out. I will see you later. She gave her sister a kiss on the cheek and left. Prue gave a last fleeting look at the paper, before standing up, and she walked through the dining room, through the foyer, into the living room, where she picked up her camera. She then walked out side into the bright March sun, got into her car and drove off.

"Paige, no excuses. I want that report on my desk," said Mr. Cowan said, "Today."

"I'll have it for you soon, Mr. Cowan," Paige replied, "Don't worry."

"Oh I'm not, Paige," said Mr. Cowan, "I'm just hoping that you are."

"What do you mean," asked Paige.

"Paige, you're close to being fired," he said, "You'd better get your act together, or you'll be fired."

"Right —," said Paige, as Mr. Cowan walked away. She turned back toward her computer and continued typing.

"This is very, very nice work, Ms. Halliwell," said James, the president of Pic-U, the leading photography company in San Fransisco, "I think we can get you a position....If you're willing, that is."

"Willing — I — yeah. Yeah, I'd like that, thank you." Said Prue. James shook his head.

"What?" Asked Prue.

"I just can't figure you out. Here you are: Young, beautiful. Yet, you gave up your presidential position at Buckland's Auction House......Why?"

"Mr. Wils," said Prue, "I worked at Buckland's, and while I was there, I just — I didn't have time to be me any more. I worked twenty-four seven, I was ruthless, and — alone."

"Okay, Ms. Halliwell —,"

"Prue."

"Prue," James said, smiling, "Welcome to Pic-U." Prue stood up and smiled.

"So," she said, "What's my first assignment?"

"There is a woman named Sherry Tylun. She's —,"

"A well-known witch hunter. She hunts them, but doesn't kill them right away — she prefers to torture them, first."

"Yeah. Well, Nathanial Pratt thinks highly of her. That's your first assignment. Sherry Tylun."

"No," said Prue, "My sister was a witch — no matter how much I'm opposed of them," she added eying James's suspicion. "I'm just — more opposed to killers."

"They're saviors. They're ridding the world of —,"

"If you say evil — I'll get pissed off."

"Is that a threat?"

"No — no, of course not. I'm just saying that, my sister made a mistake. But, she's — gone now. She's never coming back. So, she learned her lesson. But, not all witches are evil. Some witches are actually good people. Who do good things."

"Speaking from personal expeirience?" James said. Prue shifted in her seat.

"What — what do you mean?"

"I just mean, I'm sure your sister must have told you all about it. I mean, you must have known for a while, but since you were her sister, you were trying to protect her."

"Right —,"

"Okay. I'll assign someone else. I'll call you — strictly business."

Piper walked down for the first time into P3, her club. A man walked up to her.

"Hi, Piper. It's about time you got back."

"Huh?"

"John — your manager. Been taking over while you took a break to do — whatever it is that you had to do."

"John — right. So, tell me about the club. You know, profits, things we — sell or whatever. I've forgotten a lot." John and Piper sat at a table and talked about the club.

Prue stood on a bridge over looking a tower. Inside, witches were led to piers. Prue sat and watched, taking pictures with her new camera.

"Witch!" Prue spun on her heel. A demon stood behind her. He flung his hand, and Prue was thrown off. She looked down, the ground growing closer every second.