signed_sabrina | (no subject)

The thing is, this is the third time in less than a year that her parentage has come into play, in some awful way. She can't take credit for the Darkness, but Lucifer was her own mess, and she can't be certain how her influence has impacted Marcus.

Even if she's not causing it, she thinks she probably makes it worse. If it weren't for her promise to Charlie, and that awful night in the Necropolis, she thinks she might do something stupid. She might already be doing something stupid, knowing that she's hiding out here at Sam's warehouse, instead of going home with anyone, but she feels a little like anyone handling her is bound to be hurt at this point.

Luckily or not, however, it doesn't seem like Sam's tiny punk girlfriend particularly worries about these things. Sabrina admits to having been distracted for a full fifteen minutes from the possession situation by questions and the desire to probably make poor Sam insane with said questions on handling Satanic influences on relationships.

She does not fight it when her phone is taken by said tiny woman, and remains brooding on the floor, unaware of the call made to Rosie, or the directive to come pick her up.

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Rosie isn't the only one keeping an eye out as they head inside and up to the apartment itself, though Sabrina's far more aware of it. She doesn't entirely feel as if she's awake, though, until they're behind the locked door and she's completely settled in Rosie's arms.

"Thank you," she murmurs, kissing the corner of Rosie's mouth, and then she disentangles herself long enough to put a hand on the door. A gentle pulse of energy washes into the wood as she speaks an incantation of the protective sort. The least she could do, after all, but the fierce protectiveness that seems to rise up when Rosie's involved agrees with the idea.

"Can we just go curl up in your bed?" The corner of her mouth curls up. "No funny business, I just think I probably should rest while I can."

Rosie's heart both swells and breaks a little, hearing that low murmur of words as Sabrina presses her hand to the door. There's protection there, and love, but just once Rosie thinks she'd like their problems to be the kind easily kept at bay by nothing more than the metal of a deadbolt.

She manages a smile when she hears Sabrina's question, nodding as she reaches for her hand and threads their fingers together. "Neither of us are much in the mood for that, I don't think," she says, steering them towards the narrow hallway off the living room. "But just resting together sounds...it's what we need." Rosie lets go of Sabrina's hand once they're in her room, going to her dresser and pulling out a clean set of pajama pants and a soft cotton camisole. "In case you want to change," she says, laying them on the bed with a faint little smile.

Sabrina's suddenly exhausted, as if it has to do with just admitting that she's done trying to carry it on her shoulders. Maybe that's what it is, and the idea of dressing in Rosie's own clothes suddenly seems so dear that her eyes prickle with tears.

She nods, not trusting her voice.

And then, with only a slight tremble to her fingers, she starts to undress herself, her own clothes falling to the floor.

She'd been getting her own set of pajamas from beneath her pillow, but when she turns around again Rosie sees that quick little nod and the way Sabrina's eyes shine, and her heart breaks just a little more. Though at this point they've seen each other in just about every state between fully dressed and completely nude, as Sabrina starts to undress Rosie gives her what space she can without leaving her alone in the room.

Quietly and quickly, both girls change into softer, lighter things; once finished, Rosie pulls back the covers on her bed and climbs in, moving over to the far side to leave space for Sabrina. "Come on," she says, holding the blankets up a little so Sabrina can crawl beneath them.