signed_sabrina | (no subject)

Sabrina finds the book on the kitchen table.

She knows even before she's moving to open it that it's somehow from the place she only sometimes thinks of home, and she's moving toward it with the same sick feeling of compulsion that had led her to another book in the woods.

But this is not the Book of the Beast. She can see it's a book of prophecy, and with a shaking hand, she reaches for it. It feels familiar under her hands; she opens to the page marked with what looks like a page torn from a sketch book.

Before she can identify the actual content of the drawing, she knows Harvey's made it, knows his hand; when she looks a bit longer, she realizes this is her own face, but not, somehow wrong and evil and everything she's tried to pretend she's not. Trembling violently, she moves the drawing away and finds that the page beneath has an underlined passage.

She leans down to read it, and then she's falling, and she's closing her eyes with Salem's panicked yowls fading away.

Her eyes open and she's curled up on the floor, the afternoon light turned to dim twilight tones, her face wet and sticky with tears. She wants to claw at her own skin, she pushes her hands through her hair to get rid of a crown that isn't there, she screams and hits her fists against the floor.

Even Salem is gone, but as sure as she knows anything, she knows he's gone for help and she's going to have to move quickly to make sure that doesn't happen. There's no help for her here.

Her legs are unsteady, but they carry her as she grabs her bag and takes off out the door.

At the edge of town, there's a place she's always eyed with the suspicion of one who knows she'll visit, but not when. She goes to the Necropolis now, picking out a particularly large and suitably Satanic looking mausoleum.

Chalk and candles and a knife-- she has these things in her bag all the time, and she works with them now. She draws the circle, the sigils, the sacred geometry that will form her makeshift prison. Her blood charges the lines, and the trio of candles serve as a timer. When they burn themselves out, she will no longer be able to alter this trap. It's foolish to think no one else could, but she's fairly certain it will take long enough that-- that--

She doesn't know.

She just can't let herself be out there, a loaded gun, the bringer of an apocalypse, traitor to everything and everyone she loves.

Drawing her knees to her chest and hugging them tight, she tucks her face out of sight, and lets the candles burn.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The minute he can, he wraps his arms around her and pulls her close, the palms of his hands scorched and cracked, bleeding a little. He drops frantic kisses into her hair.

"You can't do that," he says, his face wet with tears. "You can't go where I can't get to you."

She clings, and she'll do what she can for his hands in a moment, but right now all she can do is really let loose with the sort of hysterical tears she'd been pouring into this ill-advised plan. "I'm so sorry, I just wanted to keep you safe," she sobs. "I love you, I love you so much. I would do anything to keep you safe."

One of the candles flickers out behind her.

"I won't leave you again."

"Whatever it is, whatever's going to happen, we're doing it together," he says, holding her as tightly as he can. "Promise me."

Sabrina nods, their cheeks wet and a bit sticky as they brush together. She tips her head back just a little, and pulls at one of his hands with her own bleeding hand. Making sure to hold his gaze, she gently presses their palms together. "Whatever happens, we'll face it together. Promitto."

There's a little pulse between their hands, and she kisses him with trembling lips.

Charlie feels it happen, feels things mend and, when their hands part, his palm is tender, but whole. He blinks at her, tears still clinging to his eyelashes, and then he holds out his other hand to her. Because he trusts her, completely and utterly.

Her own surprise is enough to break through some of the remaining sense of guilt and sorrow; she's not exactly one for healing magic, and it feels nothing like when she'd healed Ambrose.

Magic, yes, but the kind of magic she knows she'd been trying to find in the words of Edward Spellman.

She wraps that hand in her bloody fingers, and raises it to kiss the back. "Whatever comes, whenever it comes, you're with me. Because I love you, and you love me. Promitto."

Edited 2019-05-18 21:53 (UTC)

"I love you too," he says, and he's never meant anything so much in his life. When his hands are whole again, he wraps both arms around her tightly, pushing his fingers into her hair to crush her against him.

"We need go somewhere that's not here. I don't care who's place it is, but I don't want to be here anymore."

She just wants to be held by him, but leaving is probably the better choice, especially with her blood all over the place and the candles burning out.

"I took off without telling Salem, or Marcus. We should go back there. I'm sure you can stay over. I'm not letting go of you tonight."

"They're the ones who got me here," he says, stroking her hair. "But let's go to your place. I just want to be where you are, Sabrina. We've got...You need to talk to me about all this."

"I'm glad," she says, nearly standing on his feet in order to get close enough. "We should get out and let them know I'm okay. And I'll tell you everything. All of you."

She sighs and tugs away just enough so that she can walk. "Time to face the music?"

Charlie keeps his arm tight around her, keeping her close, but nods. "I'm here, sweetheart," he says. "For whatever you need."