awickedtime | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

It's all going so well, until the moment when it all falls apart. He'd stood there with the others, aware of all of the glamour laced around the like threads of gold, watching Sabrina and the Dark Lord dance, unable to tell, in that moment, which one of them shone brighter. It was like they were both bleeding light. When the Dark Lord had come to Nick with his request, he'd been in a different form, and it had never occurred to Nick, never in his life, that he could be so...beautiful.

It makes sense though. When he thinks about it.

When the others start chanting, Nick starts chanting too, repeating the words that he's learned by heart, that he knows in his muscles, in his bones. A spell to bind the devil; an incantation to beat him at his own name.

By the time Lilith sends the glamour up in smoke, by the time Lucifer catches on, it's too late. The trap's been set.

"I told you what would happen if you defied me again," he spits and something inside Nick, something primal and primate, wants to run away and hide somewhere deep and dark and secret. Sabrina doesn't back down though. She's brave and brilliant, in her crown; she's blazing light. She is, without a doubt, the most beautiful thing that Nick Scratch has ever seen.

But he's always thought that, hasn't he?

"Remember my name!" she says, "Remember it was me - Sabrina Spellman - who beat you, Lucifer Morningstar."

Ambrose sends the Acheron Configuration skittering across the floor and light flares before it dies and Lucifer Morningstar, Satan, the Dark Lord himself, is gone without trace.

It feels like his heart is going to burst in his chest. He's so proud of her. He loves her so much. Even if she never wants him close to her ever again, that's a thing that's always going to be true.

"Well planned, Spellman," he says.

"Yes," says Zelda. "Edward would have been proud."

And then it doesn't matter what anyone else would have said, what anyone else thinks, because the Acheron jumps and shudders in Sabrina's hand and she cries out like she's been burned, and then the thing explodes into all of these pieces and there he is, once again, beautiful and terrible in his fury.

"You try and try to defeat me! I am the great Satan, that no prison may contain!"

He surges forward towards Sabrina and then, just as suddenly, stops, and Nick can feel the power coming off Lilith in waves. How did they ever mistake her for anything other than what she so clearly was? How stupid were they?

"Hold that nasty thought! I can't restrain him for long. We'll need a better prison. A stronger one."

And what she says is true - that the most perfect prison ever created was one of flesh and bone, all of the shit and blood and wonder that went into human bodies, witch or mortal. Bodies were miracles, mazes, and Nick knows, in that moment, what he has to do next. The only choice he has, really. A way to make up for everything that he's done wrong, every step he took away from the girl in front of him. When Sabrina insists that it has to be her, there's a chorus of disagreement, but nobody's voice is as vehement as Nick's own.

"Absolutely not! I'm the best binder and conjurer since Edward Spellman; if anyone can keep him trapped, it's me."

He can feel the relief coming off everyone except Sabrina, which makes sense too; who did he ever belong to, before he belonged to her? He looks at her, a tear overspilling her lashes and rolling down her cheek, and it feels like his heart is going to burst. It feels like he can't breathe for loving her, like there's no room in his body for anything else.

"I love you, Spellman…" He says, the first time he's ever said it, to anyone, his whole life. He didn't even know that he could feel it, not like this. "You taught me how to love."

The words come back to him. Body. Darkness. Hold. Hold. Hold. Palace. Prison.

He hits his chest to finish the incantation and there's this rush of darkness, this roaring noise in his ears and he drops down to his knee, and he's fighting it, he's fighting so, so hard, because he's never wanted anything in his life, he's never wanted anything like he wants her to be safe, and...and….

"Nick? Nicholas?"

He hears her say his name, as if from a long way away, but he can't see anything, can't make out anything except the vaguest hint of gold in the darkness, gold that might be her hair or her dress or her crown, and then he hears Ambrose (he thinks) cry something about sleep, and he's gone then…

Nothing. For a long, long time.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Nick should have grown up in an orphanage, would have, if it wasn't for Amalia (her memory still sends an ache through all of the meat and bone of him). He'd gone to the Academy as soon as it was possible, and that had been his home after. He didn't remember his family, not really. But he knows what Sabrina's mean to her.

"Oh, Babe," he says, gently. "I'm so sorry."

She looks up wonderingly at him, that he's comforting her right now. Maybe....

"It wasn't terrible, except that I wasn't good at following the rules, and I really got in trouble. They were going to say I couldn't keep Salem, but Marcus-- he's a volunteer there, he said I could stay with him, since his partner had just vanished. Marcus is amazing. He used to be a Catholic priest, but they exiled him for not following their dumb rules. He's been there for me while I figured out how to deal with remembering everything."

Nick opens his mouth to say something about this man being a Catholic priest, but then Sabrina speaks so highly of him that, he supposes, he can't be bad. He just nods.

"It sounds like you had a hell of a learning curve, Spellman."

Sabrina slows slightly to consider this, and hums thoughtfully. "I think it's just how my life is supposed to be, whatever the world," she says. "You'll like Marcus. He knows about you, too."

And then they're at the cabin, and before they can make it to the porch, Salem has run in and out, coming back to announce that it's empty for the moment.

"Sounds like you've definitely been talking about me, Spellman," he teases, instinctively trying to lighten the mood for both of us. "I'm flattered. Truly."

Once they're inside the cabin, Nick finally kneels and gives Salem the attention he's been looking for, scratching between his ears and stroking him from nose to tail.

"I might have panicked when I got three months worth of memories during a black-out," she says, and she loves him so much, for doing that. "But then I couldn't stop."

Salem is happy to take over gaining Nick's attention, and that leaves Sabrina to take out her phone and start texting. First Charlie, and then Marcus.

"We're lucky it brought you nearly to my doorstep," she says quietly.

Nick stays on the floor with Salem while Sabrina texts. The familiar ends up curled in his lap, which, Nick supposes, means he'd better make himself comfortable on the floor. "How big is this place, anyway?" He looks down at himself, the baggy pants, and wrinkles his nose. "I don't suppose you've got something that I can change into? These tights are totally cramping my style."

Sabrina looks up from where she's just hit sent, and is struck a bit by how it seems like she can feel the world rotate around her. "Darrow? It's a big city, lots of surrounding countryside, an ocean... but once you go far enough, you start over."

She bites her lip on her first suggestion. "I have some oversized stuff from the first couple of weeks at the Home, before I was able to shop. T-shirt and sweatpants?"

"That would be perfect," says Nick. He gently dislodges Salem from his lap, pushing up to his feet. "When I'm on a sofa or something, you can come back, man," he says. "So it's...like a trap? A pocket universe. Like Dorian's or the Academy? In the world, but...not."

"Right," says Sabrina, who is slightly more flustered by Nick going to her room to change. Her cheeks are pink as she says, "Come on, I'll-- I'll get the clothes."

She's such a churning mess of emotions that it take her a second to seem to remember where to go, and then she's leading him through the open living and kitchen area to the hallway where her bedroom is. Get it together, Spellman.

She's blushing; Nick would be a liar if he said he didn't notice. He smiles at her as he slips past her into the room. "You can stay, if you want," he says, starting to unlace the doublet. "It's not like you haven't seen me in my boxers before, Spellman."

That only makes her blush harder, because there are a few memories that she's maybe played back alone in that very room, in the dark, feeling slightly guilty.

"I want to, believe me," she says, "but I have some things to--" She looks up at him, and though she's trying to hide her longing, she's not very successful. "I'll be in the living room." It's running away, but it's about all she can think of doing for now.

He feels a little bit bad about himself, after she runs away from him like that. He changes out of the fancy, ridiculous clothes, slipping into soft, worn things - sweatpants, a t-shirt. He ignores his boots for a moment and leaves his feet bare instead, padding out into the lounge to find her.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I shouldn't have...That wasn't fair."

Sabrina has another, much smaller crisis at the sight of him then, looking for all the world like she might have him come sit on the couch and hold her.

She sits on the couch by herself, and looks at her phone.

"It's okay. You know it's different for me. I'm not used to this-- is this what it was like? I know you weren't in love with the Weird Sisters, but what was it like, to-- I love you, so much, and I want you, so much, and I can say the same thing about Charlie."

"Are you asking me how it feels to be in love with two people, Spellman?" he asks, perching on the arm of the sofa and looking down at her. "Because, honestly, I don't know. I didn't figure it out until I met you."

"I guess I kind of was," Sabrina says. "I don't know, I thought maybe you'd have some insight." She just wants to touch him, and she thinks, maybe-- she takes a breath. "Will you hold my hand?"

She hears the echo of the past in it, but can't find anything inside her that regrets saying it. "While we wait," she clarifies. "Though you should probably drink some water and rest."

"Ask me about having sex with more than person, I've got bunches of insight," he says, somewhat ruefully. And then she asks her question, and Nick lets out a shivery breath. Because that's all he's ever wanted, isn't it? To be the one who gets to hold her hand.

He holds his hand out to her.

Sabrina's not quite able to speak with the power of that moment, of Nick's shaking exhale, of his hand offered. It's the best thing she can think of, to show him that while she's not at all sure of what to do, she wants him there.

She slides her hand into his, interlacing their fingers, and breathes out. "I'm so glad you're safe."

"I don't remember what happened after I told you I loved you," he says, sitting down next to her, their fingers still interlaced. "I take it the incantation worked, though? I turned myself into an Aceron?"

"It worked," she says, holding very tightly to his hand now. "Lucifer was in you, I could see it in your eyes. He lunged for me, and Ambrose put him to sleep-- it took Salem to remind me of that."

She leans against his arm.

"We all went down to the Gates. I gave Lilith my crown, and she said she had to take you, that as long as Lucifer was in you, you had to be locked away."

"Hell," says Nick, his voice soft, a little wondering. "I'm sorry, Sabrina. For all of it. I really am."

"She gave me my powers back, and she carried you away through the Gates. I don't know how long I sat there once they were closed."

She looks at him, and though the story pains her, just being able to see him safe and sound helps.

"Not your fault. And I'm beginning to be able to believe it's not my fault either."

"Well, I'm here now," he says, gently, squeezing her hand. "So we can start looking forward. No more looking back."

"Looking forward to what, though?" she asks, before she can help herself. Her eyes drift over to hold steady on her phone, where she's waiting for a text.

"I feel like we've had this conversation before, Spellman," he says, teasing gently, his thumb stroking along the length of her thumb. "And my answer is...still the same. If the mortal's down with it? I'm down with sharing."