signed_sabrina | (no subject)

(no subject)

Once a month, Sabrina sleeps at Leviathan, for her turn on the weekly overnight shift. It usually falls on a weekend, but she's leveraged her assigned shift last Friday night for tonight, a Tuesday. She expects no trouble; winter break has already started, and the solstice has passed. Nothing in the store seems particularly likely to escape; nothing has tasted human flesh so far as she knows.

When she bundles herself onto the air mattress in the back, after setting out all of those little projects that require someone to be here overnight-- some of them, she suspects, needing a magical presence nearby to develop-- Sabrina really, truly thinks that the worst of her problems is that she has to be awake at 5:30 for a morning shipment of particularly fragile teeth.

She falls asleep quickly, with Salem a warm and comforting weight against the small of her back.

Her phone alarm goes off at 5:30 as planned, but even as Sabrina rubs her eyes and reaches for it, something feels off. Why is it so far away? Is Salem feeling particularly large and lumpy beside her?

The next few observations come quick-quick-quick. Her phone is too big, and it doesn't recognize her face. The hoodie she's stolen from Charlie and the pajama bottoms she's stolen from Rosie are also too big, and she ends up in a tangled mess on the floor, panting and unsure.

Moments later, when she's keyed in her passcode and is using the camera to look at herself, it comes together. "Fuck," she says, and winces at the small, piping voice that comes out. "What am I, five?"

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"I'll text Sage and Sunshine," she answers, and though she always thinks it sounds like a cleaning service, they're a lovely queer couple who are particularly likely to cover Sabrina's shifts. "I can still text." What might pass for any of her usual sass is just a bit wavering right now.

Pulling her phone back out of the huge pocket on her front, she does so.

Round, dark eyes peer up at Marcus, and she finally smiles a little. "You're my dad," she agrees. "So you're allowed to say it. I'll make a list of who's allowed to say it." Salem meows nearby, and she sighs. "Just be glad you didn't get turned into a kitten."

"That's a good point," Marcus says to Salem, toting Sabrina around the store as he waits for the delivery of teeth. "And it's lucky you remember who you are and everything about Darrow. When it happened to me, I had no idea where I was or who anyone was and I was a very angry thirteen-year-old."

He grins, remembering, although it hadn't been at all fun at the time.

"I was very mean to a lot of people who didn't deserve it, but in my defense, I was quite frightened. I didn't trust anyone."

Sabrina allows herself, after a moment, to wind her arms around Marcus's neck. She can remember Ambrose carrying her around like this, her most reliable chariot at this age, and she can remember, with a bit of a pang, wondering what it would be like to have her father carry her.

Well, now she knows.

The thought is a bit sudden and overwhelming, especially when paired with Marcus's words. She hides her face against his shoulder. "Because nobody treated you right back then," she says, and after a moment, with a stubborn quaver, "I would never forget you."

"No, they didn't," Marcus agrees. There had been a lot of anguish carried over that for a very long time, sometimes even now, he knows he hasn't let go of it all, but the people in his life have helped him come a long way toward it.

He smiles at Sabrina's pronouncement and then presses a kiss to her forehead. "I know you wouldn't, duck."

At the sound of a knock on the front door, Marcus turns and sets Sabrina down to sit on a table, then goes to retrieve the teeth. The teeth. He can't quite believe that, but he signs for the delivery and a few moments later the door is locked up once again.

Wisely, Sabrina stays exactly where she's been put, Salem flowing into her lap like a feline seatbelt. She knows she's not trying as hard to hang onto the normal, grown-up Sabrina as she would for anyone else, and it's a strange prospect.

The box of teeth is heavier than it ought to be, if one's imagining how much teeth ought to weigh, and Sabrina peers over at it. "That should stay sealed up, for a lot of reasons." Among them, plausible deniability.

She sits, swinging her legs for a moment, before blurting, "You really think it's going to be a week? Like through Christmas?"

"Just tell me where to put the box, duck, and I'll leave it there," he answers, knowing if she's telling him it ought to stay sealed, it's probably for a good reason.

"It's usually a week," he adds as he takes the box back toward the storage room where he assumes Sabrina is going to want him to leave it. "Seven days, I think, more or less. That's how long it was for me, how long it was for Neil and for Angela, when she was still here. I'm not sure I know anyone else it happened to."

But it had been a week for the three of them. That doesn't make it a guarantee it'll be the same for Sabrina, but he's willing to bet it will be.

"Behind the counter," she says, though she's now thinking about the week ahead of her. "I suppose that changes things for the holiday, right? I'm glad I don't really have other parties lined up." The idea doesn't seem awful, though she's a bit worried about ruining plans with Charlie or Rosie.

That's not something she's addressing here.

"It might be nice, though," she finally says, "to celebrate the family part of the holiday. You could probably even take me into church without busting out the windows." After all, while she'd had magic at this age, she hadn't been through any sort of Dark baptisms or awakenings.

It makes Marcus chuckle as he puts the box where she's told him, then he comes back around the counter and picks her up again, settling her on his hips. She's perhaps a bit too big to be carrying around like this, but he's never had his chance, not with any child, not with Sabrina. At the moment, he rather doesn't want to let her go.

"We can celebrate as a family without having to go to church," he points out, holding his hands out for the keys to the store so he can properly lock up. He's taking her home now. Or maybe out for pancakes. "I don't think Dan or Neil or Kat are especially interested in going to church either."

Sabrina lets herself be picked up, knowing that she's also allowing herself to fall into whatever Darrow's magic is demanding happen. After all, hasn't she spent most of her life imagining Edward Spellman, the father who would undoubtedly be proud of his spitfire daughter? Wasn't there some tiny part of her that had wondered what it might be like, as she waltzed in Lucifer's arms, to have some kind of father that was proud of her?

So she lets go of being a grown-up witch and hellspawn, and instead lets herself cuddle into Marcus's hold, tucking her golden head under his chin.

"You know we'd all go to the church if you wanted," she says. "Even Salem. He says it would burn his paws but I'm not so sure."

"Well, whether or not it's true, I wouldn't want either of you having to go anywhere you're not comfortable," he answers with ease as he looks around the store. While God is important to him in many ways, has been a defining influence in his life, Marcus understands his relationship with God is an exceptional one. And God has little to do with the church itself, after all. He just likes how the building feels.

"Is there anything else you need before we get out of here?" he asks. "We'll have to get you something properly sized for you to wear while you're like this."

"My bag is in the back room, with my clothes and a few other things," answers Sabrina. She looks down at the hoodie and pajama pants, flapping the too-long sleeves with visible amusement. "I guess it would be easier to buy it. My magic doesn't exactly feel right. I had it, when I was this age, but it's not going to work like it should. Maybe for a few things."

She's plenty warm enough now, but the first thing that comes to mind is the bright red coat she'd had, a staple item for a very long time. That much, she can recreate.

"Okay," she adds decisively, no less so for being small. "Let's grab my things and go."

Marcus carries Sabrina back into the other room and picks up her bag with one hand, then passes it into her arms. The truck is parked just outside and she's big enough that she can walk, but he doesn't want to put her down just yet.

It's an entirely new experience, getting to hold her like this. Like she's been his all along.

"Breakfast first?" he asks. "I'm sure we could call Dan from the truck and get him to start pancakes and bacon."

It doesn't take Salem's speculative mrrr for Sabrina to understand the reason Marcus doesn't set her down; she's feeling much the same way. Much of the irritation with the change has given over to acceptance, and maybe it would be okay to be a child for a while, to remember what it was like when her world felt so much different. She knows she hadn't appreciated the aunties enough when she was young and wishing for her parents; she hadn't appreciated that they were her parents.

Now she has another shot, with a father that actually loves her, and so she holds onto the bag with one arm and keeps the other around Marcus's neck.

"Yes to breakfast," she says. "And he's not even going to be freaked out." Then, almost hopefully, "Maybe Neil will be."

"Almost sounds like you'd like that, duck," he comments with a grin as they lock up and then head to the truck. With the door open, he slides Sabrina inside, then nods for Salem to jump up beside her as he goes around to the driver's side of the truck.

"Buckle up," he tells her, even though she knows well enough to do so. At the same time he hits the button on his phone to dial Dan, telling him what's happened and asking him to start breakfast. He agrees, of course, easily the kindest and most adaptable man Marcus has ever known, and then he's driving them back toward him.

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