Greendale wasn't Greendale anymore, and Sabrina Spellman ("Morningstar," the voice in her head corrected begrudgingly. "This is who you are now.") was at a loss on how to call such an unfamiliar place home again. The mortuary was empty most days, with Aunt Zelda building the newly-formed Church of Lilith from the ground where Blackwood's poisoned institution once stood, and Aunt Hilda still yet to return from her trip to find a safe place for the young witches and warlocks who lost so much in the Academy's destruction. Even Ambrose forgot to call home every now and then, caught up more than any of them in bringing the former High Priest to his knees.
Sure, they were all off in their separate ways, but Sabrina was proud of each and every one of them. Who would have thought that the pariahs of the witching world would be the ones to save them all in the end? Still, it did nothing to lessen the loneliness of going home to an empty house, dining at an empty table, and falling asleep to the empty sounds of untouched bedrooms and cold coffee (just the way Zelda liked it, black and bitter, waiting next to the morning news. It didn't matter if an unread stack was getting ready to topple over on the kitchen counter. Sabrina would always make sure a fresh copy was added everyday).
Sometimes Zelda called from her new office ("Of course the High Priestess needs to have her own wing, child. Don't be ridiculous."), or Hilda from the confusing cellular phone that Dr. Cerberus taught her to use ("I don't understand. So it's a very expensive telephone that also takes photos?"). Most times, though, it was Sabrina who found herself dialling their numbers in the dead of night, sometimes falling asleep with the telephone pressed against her cheek, just comforted by the warmth of their voices.
Days went by slowly, with no Academy to run to, and no Nick to hold her hand when the loneliness hit her like a truck everytime the sun went down. Her friends tried to visit her when they could, but their lives didn't revolve around her, she knew that much. They had school and family and problems of their own, and sometimes, in the back of her mind, she felt as though it was safer to distance herself from them, too. It wasn't exactly the best idea to have three mortals attach themselves to the hip of Satan's literal spawn. Slowly, she would learn to let them go. Not today, though. She wasn't ready for that yet. Maybe in a few months, a few years (a few lifetimes, if I could), but not today.
So it was that fateful Friday night when she found herself sprawled in bed, eyes glued to the ceiling as Salem walked in circles around the room, restless in the growing silence. Tomorrow would bring no Baxter High, no Academy, no aunties or Ambrose, no Nick, no Harvey, Roz, or Suzie. No different than today. With a sigh, she buried her head under the covers and beckoned her familiar to lay by her feet. If change truly was inevitable in the young witch's life, then perhaps it was time to make some changes of her own.
Greendale wasn't Greendale anymore, and Sabrina Morningstar was running out of reasons to stay.
It didn't take much to convince her aunties to let her go on vacation. No one was going to argue the fact that Sabrina could handle herself quite well, and with her father effectively sealed back up in hell, nobody was going to bring her any trouble that she couldn't handle. Besides, the girl deserved a much-needed change of scenery after all the nightmares she witnessed in their sleepy old town, even for just a few days.
The flight was shorter than she expected, though the feeling of hovering thousands of feet above ground was a different kind of magic than flying above her house with an old broomstick. Nick would've found it jarring, but would have marvelled with her all the same. Her heart clenched at the thought, and she quickly pushed it out of her mind. Painful as it was to admit, she escaped Greendale, even just for a little while, to run from the mess the past month left behind. And in the middle of that mess was her selfless, caring, wonderful boyfriend who took her heart with him when he disappeared out of her life, possibly forever.
If she wanted to keep her sanity intact, she had to escape him, too (Not for long, though. She would bring him home, if that place still existed, even if it killed her).
As she followed the steady stream of passengers who exited into the airport, one of the attendants asked for her I.D. (as was customary) and she handed over her passport, one that her aunties had issued for her when she first mentioned her trip a couple weeks back. The man took it with a smile, though it quickly faded when he read her name out loud with a quirk of his brow. "Sabrina…Morningstar?"
It was odd, that much she could admit, but a lot of witches and warlocks all over their sleepy town and beyond did not agree with her Aunt Zelda's ideas regarding the reformation of their Church. Though there was no real threat against them, her aunties believed that it was best to hide any ties to the Spellman family for the time being, at least while she was away from the safe wards and protection spells of Greendale. Besides, not many people knew about her true parentage, and if they did dare seek her out, the thought of using her actual name would never cross their mind.
For once, she was glad that Nick had her father trapped in hell. Heavens knew she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing she took his name, albeit temporarily.
"Yes, I'm Sabrina Morningstar," she edged out in a clipped voice, smile just as forced as the way the name rolled off her tongue.
The man looked confused, then amused, then impossibly polite once again. "Alright, Ms. Morningstar."
He handed back the travel document with a smile, and she pocketed it quickly. This place seemed a hundred miles closer to the sun, if it was possible, and the newfound heat was something she was yet to grow accustomed to. There were a million things left to do before she could find the relief she's been chasing after (hail a cab, find a decent hotel, get some lunch that doesn't taste like plane peanuts), but still. She was here, and she was free, and she had all the time in the world ("Just one week, Sabrina, and then you come home," Aunt Zelda's voice echoed in her head) to figure things out before she dove headfirst into the problems that always seemed to trail after her. One way or another, she was going to find herself, and inevitably find her peace. And something inside her gave her the notion that this – this – is the place to do it all.
"Welcome to Los Angeles."