The Sabrina that looks up at her-- sitting cross-legged on the bed with a book in her lap, the remains of her spellcasting on the floor, her eyes still vaguely pink-rimmed but now bright and alert-- is far from the heartbroken girl who had been curled up there only a few days ago. She gives Rosie a small, grim smile, and pats the bed beside her.

"So, I kept thinking... this isn't like Nick. I just couldn't get past it. And I had this feeling, and... I'm not giving up. That's not Nick. I believe in Nick. I trust Nick."

She waves her hand at the floor.

"Rosie, it's not him."