awickedtime | (no subject)

Entry tags:

lucifer,
sabrina

(no subject)

In the privacy of Nick Scratch's apartment, Lucifer rifles through the detritus of Scratch's life. He picks through the contents of his wallet, flips through the photographs and videos saved to the sleek phone that he finds in the pocket of Scratch's jeans. He finds that he can't look at Sabrina Spellman's face without an all consuming rage bubbling in his guts; he imagines that it will receed when he puts her in her rightful place, crowned and obedient, whether she likes it or not.

But first there's some fun to be had here, burning down the lives that these children have made for themselves. Why should Sabrina think that she can defy him, seek to imprison him like a common demon, and get away without punishment?

He'll make them all suffer before he's done.

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Sabrina worries.

It's not like Nick to just take off, especially because he's tired, and she can't help it. She worries. After a day or so, making sure he has a chance to rest, she'd back up at his door, hand poised to knock.

She hasn't felt as well as she could either, but she can set it aside. Witches don't get sick, and she's focusing on Nick now.

Knocking in a familiar rhythm, Sabrina waits for the door to open.

He feels her before he sees her, all of her righteousness burning like a flare in the dark. He would be proud of her -- his daughter, his heir -- if she wasn't so damnably intractable. There's a sense of virtue in her that is testement to her mortal nature; it reeks of the woman Eve, and all of her free and foolish choices. He stalks to the door and opens it.

"Sabrina."

Nothing about this settles her worries.

"Nick," she says, uncharacteristically nervous at the way he says her name. "Is this a bad time? I was worried, and I just-- I wanted to see you." She doesn't feel exactly like herself either, more like when she was struggling to figure out what everything meant with Harvey.

She trusts Nick more, though.

"It's not a great time," he says, eyebrows raised, but he steps out of the way so that she can come into the apartment. "But you might as well come in anyway."

She's honestly not sure what that could mean.

Part of her has wondered if she hasn't taken him for granted here, if he hasn't started to want more-- but every time she truly tries to ask herself, all she can see is his dark eyes shining up at her as she leans down to kiss him.

"I'm sorry," she says. "You have something else going on?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary," he says. He could smooth it over, he knows, reach out and swirl his fingers in her half mortal brain, but the witch in her would know, and he can't have that not yet. He turns his head at the last minute, so that her lips graze his cheek.

"I don't understand," Sabrina says after a moment that's heavy with confusion and hurt. "Nick, you're not acting like yourself at all, and I don't get it." Her stomach is doing flips again, and she refuses to let herself take a step back. "If something's wrong, tell me, and we can figure it out."

He lets out a noisy sigh, leaning back against the wall, folding his arms across his chest as he studies her.

"Don't you ever get bored of it, Sabrina?" he says. "The drama? The always reacting with every fibre of your being?"

Sabrina steps back as if he's struck her.

"That's not what this is," she insists. "Nick, you've never spoken to me like you have in the past week. Did I do something to make you angry? Because you'll have to tell me. I can't think of anything."

"Not angry, Sabrina," he drawls, still leaning back against the wall. "Just bored. Of your mortal nonsense. Of the way you make everything so dramatic all of the time. Always something going on. Always something to rail against. Doesn't it get tiring?"

He feigns stifling a yawn.

She feels her cheeks get hot, and curls her fists to keep from reaching up to touch them. "It's never bothered you before. I thought you liked that I felt strongly about things." She blinks her eyes hard, setting her jaw. "And it was never my mortal side causing the problems in my life."

"Run to your mortal boy, Sabrina," says Nick, says Lucifer, rolling his eyes at her. "Go and be mediocre together. I'm done with you. It's over. It was never going to work between us."

"Nick?"

Her voice is younger and so much more wobbly than she would like it to be, but she's having trouble processing it. "Nick, that's--" Tears bead up and over, and she's wiping at her face with numb fingers. "Nick, I love you. I don't understand."

But she's stepping back again.

"Things will be much simpler with Charlie, Sabrina," he says, rolling his eyes at her. "Much easier to follow. It was fun while it lasted but, let's face it, I was only ever trying things out with you. The novelty wore off."

Sabrina gets a hand on the door knob, letting it anchor her for a moment as she looks at him, the sick shock giving away to grief and heartbreak. "I would have turned Hell upside down to save you," she says, her voice thick with tears. "I guess I am stupid."

She can't handle anymore.

She pushes out of the apartment, and at least manages to get the elevator doors closed before she's crying the huge, gulping sobs that have been waiting inside for days now.

"Nick...."

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