"Hey, watch your language," Prue said pointedly to her charge, before realizing that Piper had skittered off.
She was over by the phone, and trying to dial the number to Jeremy's phone only to find that it didn't do anything. "Great, now the phone doesn't work!" she blurted, as Prue made her way over to Piper in annoyance.
"The power's out!" Prue exclaimed, before sighing and looking around at the three of them. "Look, just go with me to the basement."
Piper audibly gulped. "What?" she asked, as if that was in no way what she should be worried about right now
"I need someone to hold the flashlight while I check out the main circuit box," Prue explained.
There was a moment of panic on Pipers face before she looked at Dean. "Dean will go with you!"
"The fuck I will," Dean growled. "I'm getting a gun and you're all holing up in the living room."
Prue looked at her cousin in exasperation before Piper blurted something else as a light appeared behind her.
"Phoebe will go with you to the basement!" Piper tried again, pointing. "Won't you Phoebe?"
"Nope," the youngest sister sighed, pointing her flashlight at them then up the stairs. "I'm going to the attic."
"Excuse me?!" Dean shouted at her. "Phoebe, do not go up there!"
"Yeah, we already agreed," said Prue.
"I am not waiting for some handyman to check out the attic and I'm certainly not waiting till tomorrow," Phoebe said definitively. "I'm going now."
"Phoebe!" Dean blurted. "What sounds sane about going to the place a spirit board spelled out?!"
She just kept walking though, and shouted down at them, "I'm going!" before disappearing around the banister.
Dean swore again, before grabbing him and Sam's jackets. "Sam come with me," he growled before going towards the door, hell bent on getting to his car for the contents of the trunk. Sam skittered after him devotedly. Prue rolled her eyes at everyone's behavior and turned to head for the basement.
Piper made a face, and tugged at her hair before blurting, "Prue, wait!" and chasing after her. Dean was right, after all. Leaving the group was always a bad idea.
Phoebe on the other hand had already made it to the door to the attic. Moonlight was pouring down from the window at one end of the stairwell, and when Phoebe edged towards the old door, she felt the slightest bit of nostalgia. She could remember trying to get in here time and time again as a teenager. All of them had, and Grams had always smiled knowingly when they came back downstairs feeling dejected.
She brushed her fingers over the doorknob, giving it a try before gripping it and rattling it a little. The knob held tight, and the bolt lock didn't move. She sighed a little, turning back, about to go back downstairs to see if she could find any tools to help her, but before she actually got back to the steps, there was a creak behind her, and she turned to see that the door had opened.
She shone the flashlight into the room, wide eyed with surprise to see a fair amount of furniture scattered around, and immediately, she turned back, starting in cautiously. Lightning flashed outside of the window as she stepped in, looking around. It was full of clutter, really. Old chairs, a dresser. There was a chandelier hanging from the ceiling that looked like it hadn't been used in a while, and chairs were stacked on top of each other. An empty birdcage and an old bust also added to the clutter with a headboard and a dozen dusty old blankets to round it all out.
That was when Phoebe saw a light, and her flashlight redirected itself to see an old chest sitting by its lonesome in front of another window. She quietly stepped over to it, setting the flashlight down on a table nearby before opening the lid to find a dusty book sitting between several others.
The book on top was special, though, and as she reached in, she felt the apprehension that always came with something new, something exciting. It was heavy, and big enough that she had to hold it against her side as she closed the lid to the chest, and turned to use it as a seat. She quickly dusted it off, and looked curiously at the red symbol on the cover.
After glancing at it briefly, she opened the book, narrowed her eyes at the words on the first page.
"The Book of Shadows," she read aloud, thinking over it for a few seconds before flipping the page, and continuing to read. The words called to her from the page, and she felt her apprehension grow as she read incantation.
"Here 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 powers to this family.
We want the power. Give us the power!"
Nothing happened that she could see, but in her chest it felt like something was bubbling out of her heart, and she knew beyond reasoning that something was going on.
Something important was happening.
Dean cursed a little as he walked barefoot in the rain to where his baby was parked. The old Impala had been a gift from his dad a mere number of months ago, when Grams died. John had been nostalgic enough to come to the funeral, but after that he had taken off. He had asked Dean if he wanted to go with him on the road again, like he had been the past year, but Dean had known it would be a better idea to stay. The girls were going to have a hard time with the house, and they'd need help with Sammy. When he had told his father that, John had smiled, and clapped him on the shoulder proudly. He didn't say why, but that night he left the keys in Dean's room, with a note to take care of his brother.