AN: Here are a few things ya'll need to know: Leo is still a whitelighter. Phoebe never lost her active powers. The Avatars, forget about 'em. And anything to be with Billie and Christy never happened.

Disclaimer: I don't own Charmed unfortunatly. It would still be running if I did. I do, however, own all the mistakes; spelling, plotline, timeline, ect.

ENJOY!


Cold is the only thing I've felt in a while. It's all I know, all I remember. All I have is vague memories, imprints of iridescent, almost sheer colors. So when I open my eyes to vivid, tangible colors… sights, its shocking. The smell is awful, like stale water and burnt wood. The room doesn't look much better... if you can call the echoing cavern a room.

The little man standing over me grins when I look at him, looking mighty proud of himself. He reaches out to touch me and I am immediately on defense. I throw my hands up to protect myself and a bolt of lightning flies.

He throws himself to the ground, the bolt just missing his head. I stare at my hands, a sense of déjà vu washing over me. I slowly lift my hands again, flexing my fingers, choking on a scream when a ball of fire appears in the palm of my hand.

The little man whimpers, slowly scooting away from me. I close my eyes, wishing like hell I could remember something, anything. As soon as I finish thinking, wishing that, I see a picture in my mind. The scenes flash by, one after the other, the onslaught of memories taking my breath away. The coldness fades away, replaced with a burning anger, a fire that was banked but not extinguished.

I open my eyes, staring straight at the little alcamist who'd brought me back. He cowers in fear as I toss the fireball from hand to hand, getting reacquainted with my power. I grin, loving the familiar, and welcome, feeling of power wash over me.

I extinguish the fire and stand up slowly, stretching my arms above my head, cramped from being immobile for so long. I look down at the cowering alcamist, and smile. "Get up already, alcamist. If I was going to kill you I would have already." I demand my voice deeper than I remember.

He stands quickly; staying a good ten feet away from me… like that will keep him safe from me. I bow my head, my dark hair cascading around my shoulders. I reach up and touch it, remembering it being much shorter. "What year is it?" I snap, my eyes flying to lock with the alcamist's.

He looks confused, shaking his head, wondering what he got himself into. "E-excuse me?" He's shaking so bad that I'm almost sorry from him… almost.

I roll my eyes, having always despised the freaky little creatures called alcamists. "What year is it?" I growl, my voice echoing off the damp walls, scaring the pipsqueak close to death.

He backs against the wall, still shaking so bad that his head bangs against it. "Y-year? Um… it's, uh, t-two thousand s-six." he stammers, nervously. I do the math in my head. Ninety eight years. That's how long I've been sealed, in the dark cold. Put there by the one person I trusted.

I clench my hand, needing to break something… preferable his face. But pickers can't be choosers, at least not yet. I look back at the alcamist, a smirk on my face. "Don't worry; you'll be rewarded for your help." I say, grinning with pure malice.

His eyes go wide, as I flex my fingers, a fireball materializing. I barely move my arm, using my wrist to send it flying at the petrified man. I watch gleefully as he bust into flame, glad to be back in the game.

But as much fun as that was, I've got a bigger demon to fry.