It's a rarity for them to have a quiet moment. No monsters or demons or fallen angels attacking them today (well attacking Sabrina, Nick is just along for the ride). No homework to be done, and they have a few hours before the feature horror classic Sabrina had cajoled him into attending with her is set to start.
They're lying on her bed with their legs tangled together. The raging passion they share momentarily sated, and Nick can almost taste the stillness before Sabrina breaks the silence.
"Would you not want me if I wasn't a witch?" The way she says it, Nick knows it's something that's been bothering her for a while. And his heart breaks for her when she continues softly, "if I lost my powers permanently, I mean?"
He knows where it's coming from, and he's thought long and hard about how to answer her when she finally asks him. "That wasn't why I was scared, Spellman."
She quirks her chin up at him. It wasn't what she'd expected to hear. Nick takes her hand in his and tries not to show how difficult thinking about this is. With all of her near godlike powers, Sabrina is nearly indestructible. Even without them, he's fairly certain she would remain entirely formidable. It's simply who she is.
"Then what was it? You acted like it was some kind of crazy torture to put myself through." And truthfully, if he didn't know her like he did, that's how he would see it. So much of who he is, is the magic. To be able to wield such incredible power was to have a taste of being a god. For all her purity and innate goodness, he knows she's a little addicted to it herself.
Even knowing what he wanted to say, Nick found himself struggling not to fumble over the words. "How old are your aunties? Do you know?"
Sabrina thinks about it for a moment, and answers, a little thrown by the question "I think they're in their sept-centennials".
"Mortals live for seventy-eighty years maybe. Don't they?" His hands trace patterns on hers now as he tries to focus on saying the words just as he means them. He continues without waiting for a response, "a tenth of the life of your aunties, and they're barely middle aged.
"You've lived so much of your life with mortals. I think you must have thought, once or twice at least, about what it will be like for you to watch them age and die. To care for them, and try and make things as good as they can be when they pass. About how much pain it will bring to bury them when you've lived barely a tenth of your own life."
Sabrina nods but doesn't say anything. She understands now, but the words need to be said. He needs to know what he's trying to say.
"I suppose it's selfish, a flaw I have in spades, but I don't want to bury you, Spellman. I don't want to have to go to your funeral and mourn you and try and live a thousand years without you. I don't want to do it. Forgive me for thinking of myself when it's your life but I can't help it."
It might be the most she's ever heard him say all together. She's so quiet for so long and his resolve has burned itself out. He rolls away from her and grabs their discarded jackets, "come on, let's go get dinner before the movie. I don't care what you say, popcorn is not real food".
He's halfway out the door when he feels her hand clutching at his own.
"I love you too, Nick." She's hugging him to her now. She's warm and soft and smells like lemons. He's frozen in place for a moment before he buries his head in her hair. People don't hug Nick. Apparently he gives off the aura of someone who doesn't want to be hugged. But Sabrina is here nonetheless, and she's real and there and she loves him too.
Somewhere in the midst of it all the tension breaks. The fear that gripped his heart lets go little by little. She's not going anywhere. He hugs the awe-inspiring woman he loves like any other man and everything is okay.