It had been over a week since Sabrina had last been inside of the mortuary. Nick was dealing with their clothes and she’d scooped up an anxious Maleficent, letting the cat whine at her for having been left ehind and doled out the appropriate amount of attention to try and make up for that. The weight that had been ever present the last few days was still there but it wasn’t quite weighing her down like it had been. No longer did she feel like she was constantly drowning in the middle of the ocean, but treading water instead. It took effort but it wasn’t too overwhelming to try and do normal things again.
Stepping into the mortuary had brought a little of that back though, the bombardment of memories that she associated with the place, the smells of it, nearly overwhelming her and sending Sabrina back to the apartment they had just vacated. She pushed that dread down though, focusing on the cat in her arms and headed toward the kitchen, hopeful that she’d find Dan there. She didn’t really remember their conversation that well from last week--wasn’t sure it could be called that anyway. Had she even said ten words in the time he’d been there? She wasn’t sure. Everything from those first few days before Ambrose was a complete blur.
The delicious scents coming from the kitchen at least promised a decent lunch waiting to be eaten. “Hi,” she murmured in greeting as she leaned against the doorway.
Those delicious smells were, in fact, Dan making lunch - he had grilled cheese (ooey, gooey, buttery, the epitome of comfort food) sizzling in one of the frying pans, and was wearing potholder mittens when he took the sheet of sweet potato fries from the oven. They too were homemade, not from a bag in the frozen food aisle - but it was fairly easy to slice some sweet potatoes, add spices, and pop them into the oven for a nice crunch side for a sandwich, something not cooked in oil.
He sensed Sabrina’s presence before he heard her - it was less of that anguish, the pain that felt like every vein and artery in your body had been vacuumed completely out. More of a sense of resolution - not entirely, just lessened. That was the way grief went - the part where it was all-consuming didn’t last forever. The heart, the mind, these were both resilient things. Part of being human.
“Hey,” he set the baking sheet down and turned to look at her while managing a small smile, fatigued yet genuine. Dan was tired but he was trucking along - talking to Nick had helped (because at least he knew what happened and wasn’t stumbling in the dark) and he fully planned to give him and Sabrina the space they needed while still making himself available for them. “Are - you back? Or just stopped by?”
Sabrina sat down at the kitchen table, still cradling the cat to her since it seemed like Mal wasn’t ready to be put down yet. Not even with the temptation of a full food bowl at her disposal. It helped to see Dan doing something so completely normal, a task that she’d come to associate with him and how he showcased his love for people. It also helped that it was him in the kitchen and not her Aunt Hilda. She knew the older woman wasn’t around, she’d been sent home months ago, but the thought of seeing her aunt in the kitchen and all the memories that were tied up with that still slightly terrified her. Especially since the last time she’d seen her in it had been when she was making her ill-fated birthday cake.
Sabrina blinked, trying to reconcile the memories from home with the ones she’d had here for that day. She much preferred her one in Vallo, full of happiness and milkshakes over the destruction and chaos of her one back home. Dan had asked a question though and she tried to focus on that.
“We’re back.” She frowned at herself, not wanting to give little two word answers. “I don’t know if I’m ready to head back to school tomorrow but I wanted to at least get back here and out of the apartment.” Even if it had been helpful to be there.
“It’s okay - I don’t think you need to return to school until you’re ready,” Dan assured, slipping free from the pot holders. His fingers twitched, hands falling by his sides as the sandwich continued to sizzle in the pan - it made everything smell homey, and he was really glad Sabrina was back. But he didn’t want to rush at her and hug her, not if she was still reeling and feeling like she’d been suckerpunched. Repeatedly.
Besides, it was almost summertime - at the very least, Sabrina didn’t have that many days (weeks?) left before she’d be on break most likely. Dan would take it one day at a time anyway - they were all trying to navigate this oddness, this new normal. Now knowing what they knew.
“I’m not sure - what you need or anything, but. Whatever it is, I’m here,” he added. “Do you want lunch, first and foremost? I can make another sandwich.” A paltry offer, maybe, but food was always appreciated - and he had been hoping she was eating. Trying to. And hoped Nick helped with that aspect as well.
“I could eat.” She’d started actually eating a few days back, not really having done so since Nick and her had set foot in the apartment. To be fair she hadn’t done much of anything except lay around and cry, mourning a life cut entirely too short--for the both of them. But Nick had finally gotten her to eat some breakfast and after that she’d been steadily eating something for every meal, though not quite with the appetite she’d used to have.
Baby steps forward.
“I don’t really know what I need,” she added, answering the other part. Roz had asked her something similar and Sabrina hadn’t been able to think of anything. She might not have been as listless as she was the previous week, but she still didn’t quite know how to process anything. She had a therapy session coming up and maybe that would help some, but Sabrina knew this wasn’t going to be a quick fix. “Nick told you everything, right?”
“It’s difficult to know sometimes. To really put it into words,” Dan said, though he got started on making another sandwich, buttering the bread. It at least kept his hands busy - this week had been hell but Sabrina was back and that was a starting point. He also knew it wouldn’t be a quick fix - these things never were. Felt like they had been wrenched to the beginning point at square one, to some extent, though she was going to therapy (continuing to) and not trying to stamp out whatever it was she was feeling; he honestly thought that was the most important thing. You couldn’t ever fill in the hole that loss carved inside of you (in this instance, knowing that in one world your chance for a future had been harshly ripped away), you just had to get used to it being there.
He nodded, going to the fridge for more cheese - American and cheddar, of course. The best kinds for this type of sandwich. “Nick told me everything. I hate that he was put into a place where he felt like he had no support from anyone - I made sure to let him know it won’t happen here. And we love both of you - me and Allison do.” He did, he really did - and they’d get through this.
Everything with Nick had Sabrina seeing red. Ambrose and her had discussed it and she knew he’d attempted to look out for Nick, but it didn’t seem like anyone else had. Which didn’t surprise her. All of them had been more than happy to just leave him in Hell when he’d become Lucifer’s flesh acheron. She’d been the one trying to get him back with the help of her friends--her teenage, mortal friends. Not any of the adults. And again they had failed him.
And her.
She couldn’t help but feel like all of them had failed her. Especially her aunts.
They might have all worked to find her when she’d had to run to keep the void from eating all of them, but had they done anything to try and find a solution to the actual issues? So far it didn’t seem like they had from what Sabrina knew. That was proof enough by the fact that Nick had shown up in her own personal afterlife. She’d never forgive them for not taking care of him too.
But she couldn’t say any of that, pushing down overwhelming anger that wanted to rattle the kitchen and break things.
Allison and Dan would look after Nick. Ambrose had done so here too. And they looked after her.
“I hate them for not looking out for him.” Or maybe she could say it.
Sabrina’s sandwich went into the frying pan, and Dan let that one sizzle there too - while keeping an eye on it, pressing the spatula against it gently. “I think - that’s a fair way to feel,” he told her, and to be honest? When he heard what happened, from Nick, one of the first things that popped into his head was why hadn’t anyone checked on him? Maybe they were grieving too, sure, but they had each other - Nick had no one. The idea was to reach out and have something of a support network between them all (because they’d all loved Sabrina), not just leave someone stranded and isolated.
At any rate, he definitely wasn’t going to try to make corrections about how she should feel - no one should be doing that, while a person grieved. He’d been through enough of that shit in his life to know the general flow of how the process went, and what was appreciated and what was not.
“Does it make being here harder?” he asked. “In the mortuary.” It was where she’d lived with her aunts - and he understood that she didn’t look at them in a favorable light now. Neither did Dan, really. Surely there was a better solution somewhere than letting their niece die to save the world from being swallowed by Eldritch terrors.
“I don’t know.” It was the truth. She hadn’t thought about it much before stepping back into the place that had been her home for seventeen years. It was just what her and Nick had thought they needed to do. This was their home, wasn’t it?
Except she didn’t feel the same warmth that she had from it before. Being there left her cold, too many memories around every single corner and she wasn’t all that sure it was where she really wanted to be. She’d thought it was where they were supposed to be though. The apartment at Morningside had been nice but it wasn’t home. It had been a nice sanctuary for the week though.
“It just felt like we were supposed to come back here.”
He could tell that there was a little bit of a murky swamp when it came to the idea of returning to the mortuary and how that felt - and whether it was because he knew Sabrina, or whether it just made sense to Dan, well. Not sure there - but maybe it was both? Either way, he didn’t blame her for having that sense of conflict about it, even if she fully didn’t realize or understand yet.
“I’m sure you still have a lot of processing to do, to get things back on track - a lot of settling. But no matter what - “ Dan flipped the fresh, hot sandwich onto a plate and then he scooped up some sweet potato fries to add on the side; a moment later, he brought everything to the table - her lunch and his. “Even if you’re here. Or in Morningside - you’re still my family. The other stuff is just geography.”
Location didn’t matter. Not to Dan. And who knew - maybe it was time for them all to move on to something else. He wanted Sabrina and Nick to have their future here, however they envisioned it. As long as he got to be a part of their lives then where they laid their heads at night was of less importance to him.
His words brought out a small smile from her, though it disappeared pretty quickly, feeling foreign on her face now. “You’re still my family too.” She didn’t know what she wanted to do. The mortuary was supposed to be home--it had been for seventeen years. Maybe she just needed to get used to whatever this new normal was now. No point in trying to make any decisions right then and there.
Her appetite had disappeared, the idea of eating something she really didn’t want to try and do at that moment with all of the new thoughts whirling around her head. But she’d promised Nick she would eat at least three meals a day and Dan had gone through all the trouble, so she picked up half the sandwich, determined to at least get through that much.
“Thank you, for being there for him.” It helped to know that Dan and Allison saw Nick as family too. That they looked out for him and wanted to help him.
Dan, wanting to set a good example (he’d been trying to keep up recognizing the importance of eating and sleeping, and generally taking care of one’s self during tough times), bit into a sweet potato fry with a nice crunch - he had a little pile of ketchup he’d added to the plate too, and it made for good dipping sauce. If Sabrina got through only half the sandwich he’d consider it a positive step - maybe she wasn’t ready for burgers and shakes yet, but they’d get to that point.
“Always,” he promised - and as long as he was firmly rooted in this world, he’d be there for them. It wasn’t always going to be happy fun times either, but he was fully prepared for times like those - and once they got through this, well, he was convinced they could get through damn near anything going forward.
Just had to keep moving forward - step by step, brick by brick. The way anything in life was (especially a life as rich and weird, but as warm and promising as this one).