Dorian POV

"Nicky, Nicky, Nicky...I'd clock you over the head for doing this to yourself if you weren't already better than anyone else at damaging yourself."

I'm not the type to give away free rooms, you understand, it's bad for business. But I have planted Nicky in one, in bed under a white silk comforter-undoubtedly to be stained with blood, I sigh- in a hotel room above my bar, the Grey Room.

But Nick is a friend, and he has to recover somewhere. Bodies in bars are bad for business too.

Okay, it's not just that he's a friend. I'm hundreds of years old, I've had a lot of friends. He's my type in every way- dominant in life, submissive in bed. Perfect face, thicc but in shape body, those muscles-I run my fingers over the ridges of his abs-that plump round bottom, those lips like two down pillows, a tad shorter than I, the biggest thighs I'd ever... now, now, Dorian, behave yourself.

Despite seducing what I presumed was over a hundred women, I'd only seen him with men twice, three times if you counted the sex demon I employed, and the other times were during witch orgies and well...what goes on there really doesn't count. Orgies are to witches what Vegas is to mortals. Four come to think of it if the Dark Lord...I shiver. That doesn't count either.

He needs a good talking to, he needs to be straightened out before he kills himself! But he never listens to me. I'm not the one. He never listened to anyone, ever. Only one person.

I grit my teeth, sick to death of her naiveté, her platinum hair, her insistence that my bar must be co-ed, and that damnable pushy, headstrong determination of hers. That booming screechy voice. Maybe those headbands most of all. She never knew when to stop. But...they may be over, but Nick needs her. No matter what he says, he still loves her. Maybe at least a part of her still cares enough to help him.

Sabrina POV

"No, Dorian." He's barged into the manor on a Saturday morning, curls soaked with the downpour outside, dripping water all over the 300-year-old Aubusson rug while my aunts stare knives through him.

"No?!" he booms, "Do you really hate him that much?"

"I don't hate him, Dorian. I care about him, we're friends. And just like any other friend, he's welcome to ASK me for help. But no, I'm not just going to barge into his life. He made it clear he doesn't me to. We're not...together anymore, it wouldn't be appropriate."

"But you know he still loves you, he'll listen to you", he insists, baffling me.

"I know no such thing. He told me he needed...he wanted...time away from me. He's shown no interest in getting back together since. It's over, Dorian."

"You seriously don't know that he loves you? Or why he left?", he asks with a grandiose sweep of his arm that knocks a vase to the floor, shattering.

Aunt Zelda stands, and I can almost see the smoke rising from the top of her head.

"Young man, I believe it's best if you stop destroying things in my home and start destroying things in your own bar", Auntie Zelda insists, flicking her cigarette as her hand shakes.

"No, and since you're breaking my aunts' antiques at an exponential rate, I suggest we go outside before Aunt Zelda taxidermies you, and makes you a permanent resident." I give him credit for looking terrified.

"But it's rainy out here!" he moans. "Bad for the respiratory system. I do not look good with my sinuses all swollen up. It's beyond unsexy."

I roll my eyes and grab his hands. "Laneway Magicka."

A pop and we're at Dorian's, standing in front of the bar.

"Bit dizzy", he says, rubbing his head. "I always hated that means of travel. But..." Now he's smiling too much for my comfort. "You just so happened to take us exactly where I wanted you to go."

I stare at him, confused.

"Nicky's upstairs."

"Dorian! C'mon! I said I wouldn't interfere and I meant it", I insist. I'm not supposed to be doing spells and messing with lives. "I...listen...THIS me is supposed to be a plain old teenager, okay..."

"What?!", he asks bewildered.

Shit.

This is way too complicated.

"You loved him. I know you did, or was it all a charade?", Dorian asks dramatically.

And I don't feel like explaining to Dorian why my feelings for Nick disappeared into thin air either.

"Fine", I say, "What's wrong with him?"

"He was with the...uh...demons again..."

"Dorian!", I scream, "Did you bring me here to check out an injury he got having sex with one of your sex demons?! I can't believe this! I'm out of here. Don't ask me again...I can't..."

"Sabrina!", he shouts and I stop as his voice breaks. "He wants to die."

I don't know if he's behind me or not because I'm taking the stairs two at a time.

"Nick?", I whisper, brushing black hair off his sweaty forehead. "Nick? Are you awake? It's Sabrina."

His eyes flutter open. He stares at me for a full 10 seconds, then rolls over to look at the wall.

"You're always around to see me at my worst, Spellman", he says.

"You've seen my worst too", I add.

"What's your worst?", he asks, his throat raw, "That you only saved 100 innocent lives today instead of 10,000?"

"Nick, I..."

"What are you doing here, Sabrina?"

My feelings may be gone, but I remember our history, and that still feels like a punch in the gut. What am I doing here? Trying to save your life. And apparently wasting my time.

"Just uh...checking on you."

"Well thank you", he says bitterly, "You've seen the show. Now you know you win. You're doing better than I am after the break-up. You win. When's the wedding to what's his name...Calibrate...or maybe you're back with Harry. You know, I don't have the energy for this. Thank you, Sabrina. Dorian, can I have some hot tea please? Take Sabrina with you. Thank you for stopping by." He coughs and there's blood on his pillow.

"I'll leave in a minute", I insist and press my hands together until golden light flows between them. Then I hover my hands over his chest. He's covered in wounds, bruises, scratches, and blood, but there's something far worse wrong with his lungs. But I'm not feeling a connection.

"Are you healing him?", Dorian asks. "How can you do that?"

"This should be easy for me." Dammit. What's wrong? I try again. "Reach out for me, Nick", I insist.

"I... can't." My hands drop to my sides.

"Your power is low, Sabrina", Dorian insists.

"Please just leave me alone..." Nick is nearly in tears, hot with embarrassment at me seeing him in this condition.

"Yeah, it's like I'm at half power or something..." Oh shit. Oh no.

"What's wrong?", Dorian asks, horrified at the look on my face.

"I have to go", I say.

"Good", Nick whispers.

"Go?! I thought you were going to help him!", Dorian insists.

"I can't right now. I know why I seem like I'm at half power, but I already used the egg, I don't think I can turn back time again..."

"Am I supposed to know what you're talking about?", Dorian asks.

"No, just know you're alive because of it. I need to go to hell."

"Hell?! Right now?"

"I need to find the part of me that's...missing", I say. "I'll be back when I do."