Cult of Two

Anything

For once, Sabrina's dreams were blessedly empty.

There were no sunbursts or bright streaks of color. Her family was absent and so were her friends. The past was a distant memory, and the future was out of reach. Everything was still. Everything was peaceful.

Which was why it was only natural that she burrowed further into her bedsheets when consciousness started to overtake her.

Her bed felt stiffer than usual. Less slept in. The pillow she was resting on felt similar, and it also smelt strange. Not bad strange, just different. She took a few deep breaths and realized that she recognized it.

It smelled like scorched earth and saltwater.

Her eyes opened immediately, and she found herself draped in a sea of blue fabric.

Her sheets were red. This wasn't her bed.

She and Dorcas hadn't gone back to her chambers the previous night. They weren't in any condition to go trapesing through Hell at such a late hour, and neither of them wanted to go back. Lucifer hadn't put up much of a fight, and they thought he might try again if she went back to her own bed.

That was why Caliban offered her his, completely absent of any flirtatious or suggestive comments. He just wanted her to have a place to rest, and he didn't need to sleep like they did.

She wasn't sure Dorcas needed to sleep because she was, well, dead, but when she sat up she discovered that the other girl had slept through the night, and she was still sleeping, curled up, seemingly contentedly, in the fur blanket that had been draped over the two of them.

She wasn't breathing, but her eyelids were fluttering, indicating that she was dreaming. Sabrina sincerely hoped that her dreams were peaceful and that the events of last night didn't seep into her mind. Salem seemed to provide her some comfort though, tucked under her bent arm.

She reached out to pet him, and he purred and curled up closer to Dorcas.

"Traitor," she said, her words all bark and no bite.

"He slipped in shortly after you entered Morpheus' realm."

She looked up to find Caliban seated in a chair by the fireplace. It was facing towards the door, but it was tilted in her direction. He was still wearing the same clothes as the previous evening, and the book she had been reading, The Metamorphoses, was perched on the chair's arm.

It seemed like he had watched over them the whole night.

"He does that," she said, reaching out to pet her familiar again.

Caliban got up from his seat and walked over to her as she blinked the last remnants of sleep from her eyes.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

An ill-timed knock sent her reeling. Her back collided with the beds' ornate headboard, as she desperately tried to scramble out of the view of the door. Out of the view of her father.

"Everything is alright," Caliban soothed. He gently took her hands in his, grounding her and preventing her from injuring herself further, "It is just Lilith. I arranged for your breakfast to be brought here."

When she had calmed down enough to tell him that she understood that there wasn't an immediate threat to her safety, he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and placed her hands back on the bed.

She leaned back against the headboard and let out several deep, shaky breaths as Caliban went over to the door. Miraculously, Dorcas stayed asleep through everything. She imagined that it was a consequence of being used to sharing a bed with others.

Her hair was matted and tangled at the base of her scalp from when Lucifer dragged her across half of the palace. Sabrina stroked the smooth red strands splayed over the blue pillow.

She flinched slightly when she heard the door open, but was relieved to see that Caliban didn't let Lilith in. He simply took the tray she had brought and closed the door.

He brought the tray over to her, and she gathered it into her lap. On it was a plate of fluffy pancakes topped with strawberries and bananas. A glass of water and a cup of coffee sat on either side of the plate along with a fork and a much-to sharp-looking butter knife.

"It is understandable if you are not hungry," Caliban said.

"I should still try to eat something," she insisted, "We've got a long day ahead of us."

She sat up a little straighter and pushed her hair away from her face. That was when she noticed that her headband was missing. She immediately started searching for it amongst the pillows.

Caliban seemed to know what she was searching for and walked back to the chair he had been seated in. He picked something up that she couldn't see and brought it back to her.

It was her headband. It must have fallen off during their scuffle with Lucifer.

She had always worn one. It was a source of comfort for her. She ran her fingers over the smooth red fabric, and she realized she could picture him doing the same, running his fingers over it while casting glances from the door to her and back again.

"You looked after us," she said.

It wasn't a question. It was a statement. She was sure.

He nodded, and his hair fell over his face.

"Thank you," she murmured, reaching up to take her headband from him and clutch it to her chest.

"Anything for you."

There's that devotion again, steadfast and seemingly never-ending. She knew it made her a fool, but she believed him. He would do anything for her. For some reason, a reason that she didn't understand, it made her feel guilty, and she frowned.

That seemed to break whatever spell they were under, and they were both suddenly aware of the intimacy that had settled over them.

"I should leave you to your breakfast," Caliban blurted out, "Mortal tradition states that it is bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, does it not?"

First the engagement ring, and now this? Just how much had he researched about mortal weddings? If she dared to look, would she find mortal books tucked away?

"It's a stupid, sexist tradition," she confirmed, sinking her fork into the pancakes.

"You do not wish to participate?"

"Nope," she said devouring another bite of pancakes, "Stay."

He did, and she felt safe.

If only for a short time.