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He's watching her sleep again.

He does that a lot, nightly in fact.

Some of it is disbelief. She's there and he's there and for now, there is peace. He knows that peace won't last. There's no such thing as peace when Sabrina Spellman is involved.

Some of it is guilt. He led them here. He's been told he wasn't at fault, but he doesn't see it that way. His falling in love with her led them both to a damnation they hadn't known could exist.

Most of it is love.

He loves her. That's a fact that is as true as it is unbelievable. Him. The orphan boy. The boy with an extraordinary amount of power with no one to love him or guide him. Loves the girl with powers no others in their world possess. And at one time, he thought, perhaps, she could love him back.

Whoever said love was enough had never met Sabrina Spellman.

Or perhaps they had.

Perhaps, in some other life or realm, he had done something so heinous he was damned to a life of loving her from afar.

He would just as soon be back in Hell.

He mutters a few words through the dark, so soft they are barely a whisper. He feels the air shift just barely as the Latin falls into place around her. Salem has been watching him. He lifts his head, but doesn't move from his perch at the end of Sabrina's bed. They have an understanding of sorts. Salem allows his observance. He stays at a distance. He thinks, maybe, Salem knows how much he needs this.

He allows himself a few more moments of observation before he breathes a heavy sigh. Satisfied the protection spell is in place until she wakes, he closes his eyes.

Moments later, he's in his cool, damp room at a questionable boarding house near the end of town. He prefers it this way. He's had enough heat and fire to last a lifetime. Besides, the few people here stick to themselves. They have their own questionable pasts, their own dark sides. They pay no attention to the young boy-not-quite-man that dresses in black and has a peculiar air about him.

He doesn't bother to undress as he lies across his thin mattress and laces his hands behind his head. It's not like he will sleep. Not for any length of time, anyway. If his thoughts are haunted, his dreams are utter nightmares.

He thinks of Sabrina as he stares at the leaky ceiling. It's always that damned tear. The tear that rolled down her cheek as he confessed what he'd done at the Dark Lord's command. He hates that tear. He hates that that he was the one that put it there. He wanted to wipe it away, comfort her as she sat before him, but he knew she would never let him. Letting her leave that room was the hardest thing he had ever done. Deciding to house Satan himself was easy compared to confessing his sins and breaking her heart.

He went to hell for her. She came to hell for him. They were both wounded on the exit, physically, to be sure, but emotionally even more. Even though she had pulled him from the flames, the very flames he had entered for her, she still didn't trust him. He didn't trust himself.

His eyelids grow heavy and eventually close.

It's mere minutes until he welcomes the first nightmare.


She's slow to wake.

She slept heavy. She's beginning to think her aunts are putting something in her tea. What she can't figure out is why they didn't do it sooner, when Nick was in Hell and she spent countless nights tossing and turning and crying herself to sleep only to wake up mid-nightmare and repeat the pattern all over again.

Ambrose is at the breakfast table when she arrives.

"Morning, Cousin."

"Good morning," she replies as she sits. "Where is everyone?"

"Hilda, garden, Zelda, study, Prudence, beauty sleep. It seems weeks upon weeks of sleeping in caves and under trees wasn't good for her pores."

"Or her attitude," Sabrina mutters as she helps herself to a croissant. In truth, she has a sort of friendship with Prudence these days. A mutual respect. They aren't trading secrets and sharing clothes, but they aren't trying to end one another either. There are plenty of others who would like to do that themselves.

"How did you sleep?" Ambrose asks. Sabrina raises a suspicious eyebrow, remembering her thoughts of sleeping draughts. Perhaps her aunts weren't the guilty party. Her deep sleeps align well with Ambrose's return

"Too well." She fixes him with a stare. "Why?"

"Merely a curious question." He flips the page of his newspaper. "Is small talk not allowed this morning? Really, Sabrina, its hard to keep up."

"I suspect our dear aunts, most likely Hilda, of slipping something into my tea. I'm sleeping far too well. However, I wouldn't rule out a cousin with a generous hand."

"I'll agree that you're sleeping well, but I'll disagree that it has anything to do with droughts slipped into tea, by me or our aunts."

"You know something," she surmises.

"Suspect something," Ambrose corrects. Its Salem's meow that tells her to pay more attention to Ambrose's assumption.


"Prudence and I have enchanted the house to alert us of any visitors."

"In case of the unwelcomed arrival of Father Blackwood," she nods. He was still on the run, lying so low Ambrose and Prudence had retreated to Greendale to plot their next move. Ambrose puts his paper down.

"You, my dear cousin, have had a visitor. Nightly. For the last eighteen days, if my count is right. Which it is. I suspect the string is longer, but it's only been eighteen days since we returned and enchanted every nook and cranny of this Victorian."

"Is this visitor friend or foe?" she pushes, leaning forward, anticipating the answer, her mind already spiraling and branching down a path of friend, a path of foe, asking questions of herself before she has any sort of information to base them off of. With her life, there is no option but to live on high alert, high suspicion.

"I suppose that depends on the day," Ambrose muses. "You have swung the pendulum drastically in both directions where Mr. Scratch is involved."

There is a long moment of silence. It's not long enough for Ambrose's liking.

"Nick has been here?"

Her words are a demand.

Salem meows a confirmation.

"What's he doing here?"

"Helping you sleep," Ambrose shrugs. "Casting protections around you. Mostly sitting in your windowsill and watching you with what I imagine is a quite the longing expression upon his well-chiseled face."

"Why?" she wonders.

Ambrose rolls his eyes because the answer is so painfully obvious.

"I suppose its because he loves you."

Sabrina is silent. She knows Nick loves her. He sacrificed himself for her. She loves him, too. But it's complicated. Loving someone and trusting them are very different.

She checks the time.

"I don't know what Nicholas Scratch is up to, but I don't have time to ponder it now. I'm late to meet my friends."

She's gone before Ambrose can reply.

Outside, as her feet crunch down the gravel path, a plan takes shape.


His appearance is completely silent.

She only knows he's there because she can feel him in that weird sort of way that she's always been able to feel Nicholas Scratch's presence. She does nothing to alert him to the fact that she's not truly asleep. That's not what tonight is about.

He says nothing, but settles into a chair near her window. Salem, always at the foot of her bed, gives nothing away. She works to keep her breath even, her eyes closed, do everything she can to convince Nick she's asleep.

Time passes.

Nick doesn't move. Neither does she.

After a while, she feels the air shift.

She's sound asleep before she can have another thought.


It's been a terrible day.

Every day has been terrible since he came back from Hell, but some days are worse than others. Today surpassed itself. Today, his darkest thoughts seem to chase him everywhere he goes – not that he goes far from his dank room – and his inability to sleep has caught up with him.

He climbs the stairs to his room, intending to just sit there until it was an acceptable time to send himself to Sabrina. He opens the door with a flick of his wrist. He's inside before he realizes he isn't alone.

"What the Lilith?" he exclaims, startling back a couple of steps.

"They say your surroundings reflect your state of mind," Ambrose muses, sitting up from where he had reclined on the sorry excuse for a bed. "Following that logic, your mind is cold and a bit moldy."

"What are you doing here?" Nick half asks, half demands. He's in no mood for visitors.

"You can pop in and out of others' bedrooms, but I can't do the same?" Ambrose counters. Nick's silence tells Ambrose he has him. "She's on to you, Scratch."

"I'm not doing anything…" He wonders how Ambrose knows.

"Except ensuring she sleeps and is protected throughout the night," Ambrose finishes. "How long have you been appearing I my cousin's bedroom?"

"Since I left the infirmary," Nick admits. He casts his eyes down, embarrassed at being caught. "I need…" He trails off. He can't really put into words why he needs to see Sabrina. It's a feeling, a need so deep inside him that it's the only reason he believes he has a heart.

"What I'm not clear on is why you don't make your presence known."

"She doesn't trust me, Ambrose." It hurts to say those words. "Nor does she forgive me for what I did."

"She went to hell for you. Literally dragged you back to this world. Continuing to use logic with the understanding that matters of the heart are never logical, I'd say our dear Sabrina loves you and your avoiding her isn't doing much to repair your relationship."

"She asked me to leave her alone."

He can tell by Ambrose's shocked expression that he didn't know that. He continues.

"My last night at the infirmary, I told her – things." He had confessed his love once more, apologized, begged forgiveness, asked for another chance. "She said she couldn't trust me and asked me to give her space."

"So you appear in her bedroom at night and watch her sleep. The mortals would consider that stalking." Ambrose shrugs. "I suppose us magical beings do, too."

"It's complicated, Ambrose." He sits in a worn rocking chair. It creaks under his weight. It's literally held together by weak magic. It had fallen to pieces his first night in the room. Its repair had been his first attempt at magic since returning to the earthly side of the gate. His powers had returned to their full strength now, but he had no need to use them most days, aside from assuring his Sabrina slept well and was protected from whatever evil lurked outside her window. "I betrayed her." He kicks at the floor. "She's the only person I've ever loved and I betrayed her."

It all makes sense to Ambrose now.

Sabrina's world was rocked when she learned of true parentage, of Nick's betrayal, of the many intricate pieces set into place to ensure she fulfilled a prophecy she never wanted to be a part of. It was shattered when Nick sacrificed himself. She spent months buried in her search for a way to bring him back. When she rescued him from the flames, she sat by his bedside day in and day out, caring for him, asking him to come back to her. When he woke up, Ambrose was told, it was Nick who reached for her.

Now, he knows, it was Sabrina who pushed him away.

And its Nick who is being eaten alive by a guilt so tangible Ambrose can feel it.

"If this were a movie, mortals would be falling all over themselves, watching and waiting for how this unfolds." Nick glares at him. Ambrose leans forward. "The only way out of this is through Sabrina," he says. "We have a very long life ahead of us, Scratch. If you want to spend it in this pathetic excuse for lodging, by all means, carry on. If you want to spend it in the whirlwind that is Sabrina, you have to do something to help yourself."

With that, Ambrose stands. He's gone before Nick can reply.

Nick lets his head fall to his hands. He wants nothing more than to spend his days in Sabrina's whirlwind. It's dangerous and often deadly, but it's also light and happy and right. She's a witch like no other and while others may not see it, he knows her kindness and ability to love is what makes her truly powerful.

"Sabrina," he whispers, because its all he can do.

His heart is broken.

He's the one who broke it.

No magic can heal it.

Only Sabrina.


She's getting ready for bed when Ambrose knocks on her door.

"Preparing for your visitor?" he asks, thinly teasing her about her skincare routine.

"I'm confronting him tonight," Sabrina informs him as she massages moisturizer into her features. "He can't keep popping in like this."

"He had a visitor of his own today."

Sabrina meets Ambrose's eyes in her mirror.

"What did you do?" she demands.

"I find myself rather bored these days, given the lack of clues as to where Blackwood is hiding. To pass the time until our next break, I thought I'd poke around the ruins of your relationship and get to the bottom of Scratch's intentions. Turns out, I'm team Nick."

Sabrina frowns.

"Team Nick?"

"Isn't that what the mortals do? Get caught up in relationship drama and pick sides? Werewolves or vampires? Peeta or Gale?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Prudence and I had a lot of downtime," he dismisses. "Nick is hurting, Sabrina. Not to mention living in squalor. The guy went to Hell for you. Imagine what he went through there. And when he was finally on this side of the gate, he opens his eyes to the only person he has ever loved and she, it seems, tells him to leave her alone."

"He lied… He tricked me…" She tries to defend herself. Surely Ambrose can see her side of things.

"He went to Hell for you." Ambrose can't emphasize that point enough. "He let Satan himself live inside him, feed off of him, for an entire year. I was there, Sabrina. I heard him tell you he loved you, that you taught him how to love just before he trapped Lucifer inside of him. Can you imagine, what it felt like for Nick to open his eyes and for the first time in ages, after all he's gone through, see you? And then you dismissed him." Ambrose shakes his head sadly. "Seeing him today, I don't know that Nick will make it without you."

He leaves then. Sabrina feels weak at his words. She tends to be selfless when it's her life or someone else's, but, she realizes, she is selfish when it comes to her heart.

It's Nick that is truly the selfless one.

She gets into bed, still intent on confronting him.

What she will say is anyone's guess.


Salem isn't in his usual spot.

That's the first thing he notices when he appears in her room. The familiar is perched on the windowsill, as though he were waiting for him. They trade a look before he shifts his eyes to Sabrina.

"The art of stealth is lost on you, Scratch."

She sits up in bed. She's wearing a silky tank top and shorts. Her hair, still white blonde, is a little longer than she usually keeps it. It falls to her shoulders in loose almost waves. Her makeup is wiped away, her alabaster skin perfect. Her bedding, her pajamas – everything is white. She's so pure and perfect it makes Nick's chest ache with longing.

"Ambrose told you."

It's the first thing he's said to her in three months. Three words. Not the three he wants to say.

"He and Prudence have enchanted the house to reveal visitors. Precautionary, given that Blackwood is still at large." Nick nods, understanding now how Ambrose had known of his visits. "How long have you been coming?"

"Every night. Since I left the infirmary."


There's only one answer.

"Because I love you."

Silence follows.


She doesn't know what she's going to say.

Hearing her say his name, however, lights something inside of him. His words come easily. Sure and steady and truthful.

"I didn't think I could love," he tells her. "I didn't think I had it in me. I was destined to be a coldhearted warlock, doing the bidding of the likes of Father Blackwood. Then this part mortal, part witch appears inside the walls of the only home I'd ever known and sings like a fallen angel and I was sucked in, completely and entirely. I didn't care that she had a boyfriend or a life among the mortals that I didn't understand. I only wanted her to look my way. Talk to me. Let me be near her.

"I celebrated when you and Farm Boy broke up for good. I had a chance and I seized it. I'm selfish enough to admit that. I didn't do it because the Dark Lord told me to. That came later. I seized it because even if the rest of me didn't know it then, my heart did know – I loved you.

"I should have been braver when the Dark Lord asked me to lure you." He pauses for a moment. She's listening intently. Their eyes lock. "I should have been more like you." He sees her swallow hard. "I wasn't, though. My only purpose was to keep you with me. Somewhere along the way, it shifted to keep you with me, but keep you safe." Another pause. "I will do anything to keep you safe, Sabrina."

It's unspoken, but she knows what he's means. He will go back to Hell to protect her.

"I hurt you and I can't forgive myself for it. I think about the tears that rolled down your cheeks as I confessed my betrayal. I think about how I caused them, and how you wouldn't let me wipe them away.

"You asked me to leave you alone, and so I have, as much as I can, because its what you need. Damn what I want. But I hurt you, Sabrina, and the guilt eats away at me." There's a quiver in his voice that tells Sabrina he's near breaking. Still, she doesn't move. "No matter how many people were involved, no matter how many forces were at work, I blame myself for everything. Maybe that's illogical, but logic and love don't mix." He's the one who swallows now. "Satan lived in side of me, Sabrina. He knew my darkest thoughts and deepest fears. He used them to torture me. Day by day, hour by hour. And all of them involved losing you."

He stops now.

Sabrina still can't form words. He doesn't give her a chance.

"So, imagine what it's been like, to wake up on this side of Hell and realize this time, it wasn't a dream or a vision or whatever the hell it was he made happen in my mind, only to lose you all the same."

She's certain her heart stops as the realization of what Nick's been through sinks in. She makes to toss her blankets back and go to him, but Nicholas Scratch is too fast for her. The words are muttered before she can react.

The last thing she sees before her eyes close is his form disappear.


He doesn't come the next night.

She's devastated.

She makes Ambrose tell her where he lives. Ambrose accompanies her to the boarding house, saying its no place for a lady, and she has to agree with her cousin. It's no place for Nicholas Scratch, either.

He's not there. She's relieved there are signs that he intends to come back. He doesn't have many belongings, but a coat and a few shirts hang in the closet, a watch sits on a rickety dresser. There are a few books she knows to be his.

But, she can't help but think, those things could be replaced. He could, still, have no intentions of coming back.

Maybe he's really gone this time.

She shakes her head.

She won't believe it.

It feels like the day lasts twice as long. She's eager for nighttime, hopeful Nick will come. She sits in the middle of her bed, fully clothed, waiting. Her hope dwindles as the minutes tick by and by the first peeks of dawn, it is gone entirely. Salem tries to comforter her, but his efforts are fruitless.

She goes back to the boarding house the next day. Roz and Theo are with her. Nick is still missing.

"Have you asked his friends?" Theo suggests, just for something to say.

"He doesn't have any."

It's painful to think about, but its true. She was Nick's only friend. He had plenty of acquaintances, but he didn't allow himself to have friends. He had only ever allowed her inside the walls around his heart, and she had shattered it.

She supposes it true, that you hurt the ones you love the most. She and Nick have certainly managed it.

"Maybe check the Academy?" Roz suggests. Sabrina shakes her head sadly.

"He's not there. Aunt Zelda checked, but he wouldn't go there. The few that remain there are wary of him. They don't trust that he doesn't have at least a bit of the Dark Lord left in him." She purses her lips. "There's not a shred of Satan in him. I'm certain of that."

Nick had never had Satan in him. Not truly. Not in his heart. She knows that now.

Roz picks up one of his books and flips through it. It's entirely in Latin and she has no idea what its about, but she can feel that Nick has touched it somewhat recently. She has learned how to control her own abilities over the last year, and she calls upon them now. She takes a big breath, closes her eyes, and begins to search the darkness. It takes a few minutes, but she finds him.

"He's in a graveyard," she says. Her eyes are still closed, but she feels Theo and Sabrina's eyes on her. "He's sitting on the ground, by a towering stone." She reads the names. "Its his parents." She feels an overwhelming sense of sadness. "He's hurting. Lonely." She lets the vision fade away and opens her eyes. Sabrina's eyes are wide and worried. "He needs you, Brina. Do you know where his parents are buried?"

Slowly, she nods.

"Ireland. In the countryside. Near the Cliffs of Mohr. He told me once that the Cliffs were there favorite place. Its one of the only memories he has of them." She chews her lips. "Now I have to figure out how to get there."


In the end, it's easy.

Teleporting isn't her specialty – its Nick's – but Ambrose and Prudence help her. She lands not quite where she wants, and she's certainly not dressed for the cold, misty weather, but her only concern is finding Nick.

"Please, Lilith," she mutters as she hurries in the direction the spell she just casted told her to go, "let him still be here."

She finds the cemetery within minutes. She looks for the stone Roz described and spies it in the distance, standing above all the others. Nick is there, resting against it. She hurries forward.

Their eyes meet.

Nick slowly stands, disbelief clear.

"I'm here," she says, because she can't think of anything else to say. "I'm here, Nick."


There's an edge to his tone that makes her recoil internally. She stands firm, however. Nick hasn't had anyone to fight for him. She dragged him from Hell, but she hasn't fought for him. Not until now.

"You called yourself selfish," she tells him. "In my room, two nights ago." He nods. He's easily the most selfish person he knows. "Nicholas Scratch, you are the most selfless person I know." He snorts in disbelief.

"I've never figured you to be naïve, Spellman."

"You sacrificed yourself to save the world from the apocalypse."

"I sacrificed myself for you," Nick corrects. "Damn the rest of the world, Sabrina. I only care about you."

"It's so much bigger than that," she tries. "You were tortured, for months." Nick doesn't reply, so she continues. "And then I did a terrible thing by turning you away."

"He would put dreams of you in my head," Nick tells her. "We would be together and happy and then the scene would change and I'd lose you, always in a horrifying way. Or else you'd come to rescue me, and we would be so close to freedom, only to be torn apart again. Or, worst of all, he'd end the dream and I'd realize it wasn't real – you weren't there."

"But then I was." She takes a small step towards him. He remains rooted to his spot. "You're selfless," she repeats, "but I'm selfish, at least with my heart. I loved Harvey in the innocent way you love your first love. But you? You are fire and ice, heat and cold, wind and rain. You're a cold snow and a hot summer. You stand by me, fight with me, even when you're trying to protect me. You make everything in me stand on end and I lose myself when I'm with you. You scare me, Nick." She looks at him head on. "Falling in love with you scares me." She gives her head a little shake. "But I don't want to be selfish anymore." She tilts her head a bit, still looking at Nick. "I don't want to push you away anymore. My heart be damned."

A long silence sits between them.

"Your heart is already damned," Nick finally speaks. "Such is the way of our kind."

"You betrayed me." Nick cringes and looks away. She takes another step forward. "That hurt, Nick."

"I'm sorry, Sabrina!" The words come out in a hurry, almost rushed, the edges tinged with the faintest hints of anger. He's said it so many times. How many more times does he have to say it before she'll believe him? He's prepared to count. "I did betray you. But I swear to you, the way I feel about you? That's been real the entire time."

"I believe that." She takes another step. "Nick, my trust in you is still a little wobbly." He closes his eyes. "But I don't want to be the one that keeps us apart." He opens them to look at her. "Not any longer. Not when you're here, with me."

She's standing before him now, waiting for him to make the next move. She's put her cards on the table. Now it's his turn.

Slowly, so slowly it feels like it takes a lifetime, he lifts his hands to cup her cheek. She leans into it. Even though his skin is cool and damp like their surroundings, there's still a warmth there.

"You're freezing," he realizes.

"So are you," she counters.

He pulls her into his arms then. She burrows into him, relishing the feeling of being so close again. The dampness of his clothes seeps into her, but she doesn't care.

"Let's get you warm."

He teleports them to a small cabin. Within moments, he's conjured a fire and is wrapping a blanket around her shoulders.

"Where are we?"

"A cabin not far from the graveyard. The owners rarely use it." He sits on the sofa. She dares to join him. "I come here from time to time, when things get to be too much."

Her heart breaks for him again. She, too, lost her parents, but she had her aunts and Ambrose. Nick had no one.

"Greendale was too much," she clarifies.

"I was coming back," he tells her. "I don't know if it would have been today or tomorrow or a week from now, but I was coming back."

She finds she believes him.

"You left before I could respond to your speech."

"I couldn't bear to hear you tell me to leave again," he confesses. "So I left first."

"I wasn't going to tell you to leave." She moves closer. "I was going to tell you to stay. That night and every night." She takes his hand. "I'm sorry for pushing you away, Nick. I'm sorry for being so selfish with my heart."

He squeezes her hand.

"I hurt you," he acknowledges. "It kills me to know I hurt you. I'm so sorry, Sabrina. I promise you, I will never cause you pain like that again."

She nods.

"I believe that."

She does. She believes it in her very core.

"Can I hold you?"

His request is so innocent, so pure. Her heart expands and butterflies swarm in her stomach at the idea of being in Nick's arms again.

"Only if you kiss me first."

He smiles then. A genuine smile.

"There's always a price," he quips. "This is one I'll glad pay." He pulls her to him.

It's a long, slow, lingering kiss. They both feel it down deep in their souls. It begins the mending process, helps them both release the hurt and pain from the last several months and begin to heal.

She turns into him on the threadbare sofa. He holds her close, runs a hand up and down her arm.

"Are you warming up?" he asks.

"You're a good heater," she replies. She steals another kiss and settles back against him. "Nick?"


"Tell me about Hell."

His breath hitches. He wants to lie to her, spare her the details. He can't, though. Not when her trust in him is, as she put it, wobbly.

"I suppose it could have been worse."

Sabrina frowns.

"Worse than Satan himself trapped inside your body?"

"I could have been awake," he explains. "The sleep Ambrose put me in was an act of mercy, as much as an act of submission. It was horrible, having him inside of me. It hurt, physically, emotionally. But I was enclosed in my own world. It was terrible there – awful – but I didn't have to see the horrible things going on around me. If I have to find a silver lining, it would be that."

Sabrina smiles just slightly. For someone who tries to be so hard on the outside, Nicholas Scratch is an optimist.

"I told you of how he would trick my mind, make me believe you were there, only to rip you away, or show you being hurt or worse. He never let me rest. He found new scenarios, new ways to torture me with losing you." He pauses to bite his lip. "Sometimes he would show that awful tear rolling down your cheek, and visions of you in your bedroom, sobbing over my betrayal." He pulls her closer, as though he's afraid she'll leave again. "I've thought a lot about it, though. I think, ultimately, my love for you is what kept me from going insane."

She looks at him, floored by the burdens he endured for her.

"There was no way – no way – that I was going to leave you there," she tells him. "Even if it took me the rest of eternity, I would have gotten you back." She smiles a bit. "I'm glad it only took a year."

"Me too," he admits with a small smile of his own. He picks up her hand in his. "Will you give me another chance, Sabrina? Will you let me make it up to you? Spend all my days showing you how much I love you?" He squeezes her hand. "Will you let me earn your trust again?"

"You have nothing to make up for, Nick. I've forgiven you…"

"I have a score to settle with myself," he confesses. "I led you along the path the Dark Lord needed you to follow. I put you in danger. I hate myself for that."

"You were ultimately a very small player in a very big game," she reminds him. She brushes a lock of hair from his forehead. "I forgive you, Nick. I trust you with my life and I'm trusting you with my heart. And most importantly, I love you." She cradles his jaw. "I love you, Nicholas Scratch. I'm sorry it took me so long to say it."

They make love for the first time that night. Nick is gentle and slow. Sabrina is alight and consumed. They both know their connection goes deeper than physical. There is something between them that can't be broken, something that has solidified now that they have given themselves to one another. It's sweet and as pure as a warlock and a witch can be, but also deep and wild and untamed.

Later, tangled in one another's arms, Sabrina runs her hand along Nick's chest.


"Hmm?" he's nearly asleep, Sabrina tucked safely in his arms.

"I can't let you continue to live in that boarding house."

The chuckle that emits from him is warm and deep.

"I'll upgrade at once," he promises. "I can't bring my girlfriend to such a place."

"You'll stay at the mortuary," she decides. "There's more than enough room."

He doesn't argue. It's not just the lure of being near Sabrina. It's her aunts, Ambrose. Even her mortal friends. He dares to begin to hope that maybe, someday, they can be his family, his friends, too.

"Do you remember when you overhead me tell Harvey he always catches me when I fall?" she continues.

He cringes. He hated that night. He should have been the one to bring Sabrina out of that church. He's also a little embarrassed by how jealous he had been, and how openly he had let Sabrina know.

"I do."

"You aren't the one who catches me when I fall." He intends to argue, but she stops him. "You keep me from falling in the first place."

She returns her head to his chest. He pulls her in close and kisses the top of her hair.

"What are warlock boyfriends for?"