I got too tired of waiting for The Council of Mirrors to come out (May 2012? I mean, really.) So I decided to try my hand at a little Puckabrina loving. Please don't scream at me if I don't capture Puck's character perfectly – it's really hard to understand the mind of a 4,000-year-old preteen, especially at 3 in the morning (thankyou, insomnia). This is a one-shot that takes place after The Inside Story. PLEASE review with your thoughts.

-Sarah

Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own Sisters Grimm. If I did, Uncle Jake and Briar Rose would be married right about…now.

He tiptoed up the stairs, wincing at the unexpected feeling of loss that struck him as he passed by the now empty room of the old lady, before crossing the hall to her room. Holding his breath, he turned the brass doorknob, feeling the door swing open on his push. He took the seven steps to her bedside, making sure to avoid the creaky floorboard by the right side of the bed—the side that she always slept on. He knew to keep all of his weight on his left foot and only breathe out of his mouth, after all, he had done this before. No, it was not spying! As sworn protector of the Grimms, it was his duty to make sure neither of them choked in their sleep or accidentally strangled the other or anything else dangerous like that. If they ever found out—which they wouldn't—he was sure they'd be overcome with gratitude.

Expecting to see her blonde hair spilling over the white sheets, he was surprised to find the right side vacant; the pillow still wrinkled from where her head rested. The thought struck him that perhaps she had gone downstairs to study yet another one of the Grimm family journals and then inwardly he cursed for not hearing her feet softly pad down the steps. Either her sneaking skills had gotten better, or he really should have taken the old lady's advice on cleaning his ears.

No longer wary of waking her up with the flutter of his wings (Daphne really did snore), he quickly flew downstairs. He couldn't blame her for not being able to sleep. These last few weeks had been taxing—there was no sign of Charming, the wolf, and Snow White anywhere in the mountains (they checked twice), and Baba Yaga was nowhere to be found. He knew she was hurting, more than any of them. It was visible in the way she carried herself. She was perpetually terrified of trusting anyone, of letting anyone break her the way that wretched reflection had. After searching the living room, kitchen, and softly calling her name to no response, he grabbed an apple—this night guard stuff was hard—wolfing it down as it occurred to him where she was. Tossing the apple core to Elvis, he flew upstairs. She had left the door slightly ajar, and as he approached it he could see her hunched form; her back was to him. The moonlight threw beams of silvery light around the empty room, and well, she looked like an angel. He rapidly shook the thought out of his head, sullenly wondering when he would be would be cured of the puberty virus she had infected him with.

He opened his mouth to rudely ask just what she thought she was doing out of bed this late, when he saw a tremor pass through her. Her whole body was shuddering and she had clenched her hands into fists, as if trying to fight it. Watching her walls crumble this way disturbed him deeply, and he felt an unfamiliar tightening in his chest. Paralyzed, he watched her reach her hand out and press it to the empty wall, white on white, whimpering at the contact as if it caused her physical pain. Silently, he crossed the room and sat next to her, unsure of what to do. She still hadn't noticed him, but remained bleakly staring at an empty wall, once vibrant blue eyes dull and vacant, hand pressed firmly against the white paint. As if clutching the wall where he once was would bring him back.

Tears slid down her cheeks in endless streams, making paths through the salty dust their siblings had left behind. He was her best friend, the one person who had stayed faithfully by her side when she felt most alone. She had relied on him to confide in, to cheer her up, just to call her Starfish with that playful twinkle in his eyes. It had nearly destroyed her to hear him reveal his true identity, her brother in his arms. In fact, she didn't know that it wasn't gradually destroying her, second by second. It was almost ironic how she was the least trusting of the group, the most guarded, and she was the one who mindlessly let him in, ignoring the possibility that he couldn't be trusted. To her, that was the very worst part.

She let her hand slowly slide down the wall, bringing it back to her lap, accidentally brushing his knee in the process. She let out a yelp before recognizing him, and instantly her features hardened. He could tell she was embarrassed.

"Puck!" She shrieked, bordering on hysteria, "you were spying on me?"

"No, I just wanted to see if you were okay." He hated himself for sounding so concerned.

"Well, I'm fine." Her voice cracked, betraying her façade.

"You know, you could just tell me if you don't want to talk about it. There's no need to lie." His voice took on an injured tone. It frustrated him when she lied so blatantly. If he was going to go to the trouble of caring about her feelings, the least she could do is talk about it.

"I just don't understand how I could have been so wrong about him. He was the only person who was never once not there for me. I trusted him, and he really knew me and now he's gone. He never really cared about me. I'm alone." She seemed shocked by her honesty, and upon choking out the last two words her eyes had filled up again. She didn't bother hiding her tears this time.

"Boohoo." He mocked, instantly regretting it. She looked as if she had been slapped in the face.

"Forget it. I knew I shouldn't have told you any of that. Just get lost, Puck." She turned away from him, and pulled away her hand, which had remained resting on his knee.

"Wait, no, I'm sorry." He confessed, "This isn't your fault, Sabrina. No one saw it coming."

She started to protest but he silenced her, "Seriously, the guy's a talking mirror. How can he ever be evil? Not to mention he's a midget. "

Ecstatically he noted that she cracked a smile, but only briefly, before her face morphed into her emotionless masquerade yet again, and he sobered. "We're going to get her back, I promise." His whisper was fierce; she needed to know that he meant it.

She turned to him, meeting his gaze, and he watched her disguise collapse. She emitted some sort of moan as she sobbed, for once unashamed to seem weak. Watching her cry openly in front of him—to him, was affecting him in a way he couldn't understand. He brought his hand his face, stunned to find that it was damp. Before he realized what he was doing, his arms were around her, pulling her towards him.

At first she stiffened, and he was certain she would push him away and run screaming from the room, but then she relaxed, grasping his hands tightly in her own, intertwining their fingers. He wasn't sure how long he held her, or even what demon had possessed him to do that (it was probably the puberty virus), but eventually her awful shaking stopped and her breathing evened, lulling her into sleep.

"You'll never be alone, dogface." He whispered softly, his truth echoing in the empty room, and in her sleep, Sabrina smiled.

I'm very, very tired now (which has massively affected my writing) and after rereading this, I don't think I like it very much. But who cares what I think? It's all about what YOU think! So please review—it makes me haaappy :) Also, I know some of this was out of character but I tried my best! It's actually really hard to portray Puck. He's a complex dude, not to mention a villain of the worst kind, haha.

-Sarah