Sabrina got out of the shower and found a pair of Grace’s clothes on the guest bed. Jeans and a flannel.

“Sis, you are way too straight to be this much of a dyke,” Sabrina said as she struggled to get into the pants that were just a little too tight. The shirt was a little too loose. She only bothered buttoning the middle, and rolled the sleeves up. She fiddled with the outfit, and looked herself over in the room’s mirror, shrugging her shoulders to see the way everything fit and glancing at her own ass.

The stress was making her leg ache.

Sabrina grumbled, nervously took her necklace—kissing it, then holding it between her lips—while she put the Lover’s Lips around her neck. It clashed with the lumberjane chic, but she wanted to keep it on hand. The Harvestman probably wouldn’t be back, but it was best to be safe. Next was her phone. She searched in her pockets for the witch bottle and the two poppets.

Her thigh twitched.

“Fuck me,” she muttered. Then winced and crossed herself with a roll of her eyes.

She grabbed the cane and opened the door. The family was sitting quietly, whispering. They all went quiet and looked at her.

“Hey.”

She looked over to Fatima, who was looking out the window, the laundry bag still on her back. Amy was outside, prowling like a guard dog. Even to other ghosts, she was just an image, but the largest land predator in history was a frightening image. She wouldn’t be able to fight, without Fatima, but she’d still ward off the Harvestman, and could keep watch. Through their connection, Fatima would learn if The Main Exhibit saw anything.

“How are you holding up,” Fatima asked, breaking the awkward tension.

“I feel like a scarecrow tried to make a blood eagle out of me,” Sabrina said, to John and Charity’s concern. “I’m fine. Where’s Caleb?”

“He went upstairs,” Grace said from the couch. “Lilith needed to be fed, and he said he wanted to get some sleep in before the ghost came back.”

Sabrina looked over to Fatima again.

“I gave him the go-ahead.” She nodded. “He’s a teenager, they sleep as much as reptiles.”

“It’ll be safe,” Sabrina agreed. “Assuming you salted the house?”

John, Charity, and Grace all nodded. Sabrina sighed, and took another drink from the fridge. She went over to stand with Fatima, giving an incline of her head to the door. Fatima nodded, and the two carefully stepped over a salt circle to take their conversation outside.

“Did he say anything about the bag?” Sabrina asked, voice sotto as she closed the door. She took a long sip of the tea.

“Should it be ‘he’? I wasn’t sure.”

“I don’t want to accidentally slip up.” Sabrina looked inside to the family. “Plus, we aren’t sure yet. Bag?”

“Well, he recognized it,” Fatima pointed out, “but it was under his bed, so of course he did.”

“He didn’t say anything?”

“We’ve only spoken once, and I’m his sister’s coworker” she pointed out. “As far as he’s concerned, at least.”

Sabrina nodded, and took another sip. “So no.”

“Correct.”

Sabrina grumbled, and leaned her head against the window. “So you think going to bed was…?”

“Trying to get away from any fallout?” Fatima gave a gentle smile. “Yeah. Though he did say he’d been up since three this morning. He wasn’t sure what to do about the blood at first, and tried to wash it off, but it came back. Eventually he woke Grace, and then your parents.”

“And then they finally shot me a text at,” Sabrina thought about it, “what, six?”

“That's when I go to work,” Fatima agreed.

She felt a smattering of guilt, and looked over at the woman. “They going to be okay without you?”

Fatima shrugged. “I've been using a lot of sick days lately.” Not really a concrete answer.

“I don't really know how those work,” Sabrina admitted, “the help is appreciated.”

Fatima gave a smile, and nodded. “I know.”

“I'll try not to need you when you're busy.”

“I'll be fine,” Fatima said, gently waving the problem away with the same hand gesture she'd seen Sabrina use a hundred tubes by now. “I'm the only one with a real job. Joy and Hobie are musicians. Josette has a trust fund, so she was already possessed of free time.”

“I'm a full time witch.” Sabrina added.

“Whatever Frank does seems very illegal,” Fatima continued. “I don't know how long I'm going to be able to keep a job at the WINH up before I have to become a full time ghost buster.”

“Who ya gonna call?” Sabrina asked playfully. She followed Fatima's thoughts. “Even the werewolves. I think Pepper’s the only one with anything like a real job and she makes games. That's the kind of fake job every kid wishes they have. Liam's another musician.”

Fatima leaned against Amy. The tyrant lizard king had come over during the talk, and lay it's jaw against the ground. It looked up at it's partner with big hawk eyes, more intelligent than either a dead thing or an animal should have. Sabrina and the Main Exhibit would be completely intangible to each other, but even she could feel the ground trembling with the dinosaur’s concern; and it’s low warble. Fatima gave her the smile for a sad puppy. “It's not your fault, girl,” she cooed. “I’d have lost my job sooner if I just stayed dead.”

Amy’s tail was too stiff to wave around like a puppy, but she wiggled along the ground, pushing Fatima forward and eliciting a laugh. Then she rolled over a few times.

“She’s like a thousand pound budgie,” Sabrina thought, putting more of her weight on the cane.

“I don’t know the conversion off the top of my head, but print casts I took in Montana suggest Amy could have been up to fourteen tons. That’s metric tons,” she added. She watched Sabrina’s hand press into her injury, rubbing it. Sabrina caught her gaze and stopped. “You let me distract you.”

Sabrina stuck her hand in her pocket, but it felt weird with how tight the jeans were and how small the pocket was, so she just hooked a thumb in. “I seem to be doing a lot of that today.”

“Caleb?” Fatima said, bringing the conversation back where it needed to be. “I think it is best to let him sleep.”

“You’d be a good mom,” Sabrina noted.

“I, wha?” Fatima was caught off guard to the point that Amy became a mist that shot back to her chest. Sabrina smirked. “Yael and I aren’t quite that far yet, and you aren’t going to get out of this so easily.”

The smirk died, but like many things, it left a ghost. “You’re right. Caleb can sleep. He probably needs it, and I don’t know what to say yet. The house is warded, a reaper won’t get in, and it wants me anyway, and shouldn’t be back for a day. Next step…” She thought about it for a bit, finally thumping the cane’s tip on the ground. She handed Fatima the empty can and started for the stairs up to the front. “You stay here and watch my family. I trust you. I’m going to go look into something.”

“Good luck,” Fatima nodded. Amy was back to stalking the grounds for predators other than herself.

Ten seconds later Sabrina called out. “Hey, Fatima?”

She came jogging around the house to find Sabrina sitting at the top of the steps. “I don’t have a car.”

“Can you drive?” Fatima asked, a little hesitant.

“Nah, I’m too bi for that. Grace’ll work.”

She went back inside and Sabrina could hear something about there being so many new stereotypes to learn.

Sabrina took a moment to check on the kids. She was far from the oldest of them, but she had been at this business the longest. She’d been an occultist longer than most of the freaks in this city. Even some of the vampires were still cutting their fangs two decades ago. So that meant the group she called her coven were all her kids, even Frank and Fatima. She was the central spoke that brought them together.

But it looked like they were doing fine. Fatima had sent an update on Sabrina, letting the others know about her attack. She was discreet, and just called the family ‘a client’. Didn’t say anything about Caleb. Warned everyone about the Harvestman. Joy and Hobie were ready to join a fight if need be. Jinxy had thought Sabrina had slept already and asked if this had anything to do with the cosplay. Frank didn’t answer, which meant he was either asleep or otherwise occupied.

“Good for him.”

“Good for who?” Grace asked, behind Sabrina.

She looked up from the step, “friend might have gotten laid finally.”

“Ah, good for him,” Grace said, ruffling Sabrina’s hair. “Fatima said you needed a ride, Rina?”

She held out her hand and was helped up. “Yeah. I think I need to go to church.”

Grace snorted, and made her way down the stairs. The family usually parked in the back. “I thought you said you didn’t go because you didn’t want to combust.”

“I’ll chance it this time.” Sabrina followed down the stairs and around towards the AmazingGrace branded van.

“We’ll take mom’s car,” Grace said, with a nod. “figured it’ll be more comfortable for you.”

“Don’t tell Asher, but you’re my favourite.”

Grace gave a laugh, and the car doors unlocked with a click. “Not Aliza?”

“She knows what she did,” Sabrina teased, getting in the passenger side. She adjusted her seat, but Grace didn’t need to. “You’ve been driving Charity around.”

“Mom’s getting old,” Grace said. “She didn’t get her license renewed because of vision.”

Sabrina ran a hand through her hair and just sat with that for a bit. One day she’d be performing last rites for Charity and John. Assuming she wasn’t put in the ground permanently first.

She was brought out of her thoughts by Grace patting her on the knee. “Rina, she’s still got years in her.”

Sabrina had the ghost of a smile. “Getting old is a privilege.” If only it didn’t hurt so much when you see it happening to a loved one.

“It is. Anyway, what do you want with Father Andrews?”

“Why he thinks Caleb did it,” Sabrina said, crossing her arms and frowning. “For one.”

“I don’t think he does,” Grace said, after a moment. “But there has been stuff going on with him.”

Sabrina perked up. “Wait, there has?”

“Yeah, Rin, didn’t you wonder why he wasn’t at school?”

“Uh…” It had been two decades since she saw one of those.

Grace laughed, though it was a bit hollow.

“I guess I just thought it was the blood on the wall.”

“No,” Grace shook her head, “he’s suspended.”

Sabrina sat up so straight she hit her head. “Ah, fuck! What?”

“Language,” Grace smiled. “But yeah. He got into a fight.”

“What was he fighting about?” This was certainly helping the theory. There was a lump in Sabrina’s chest, and she felt Grandmother trying to ease it.

“He won’t say. Just kids stuff.”

“Kids are horrible,” Sabrina pointed out with a sigh.

“Yeah, that’s what I mean,” Grace confirmed. “He’s like you in a lot of ways.”

That stung. She didn’t mean it to, but Sabrina rubbed at her thigh. They seemed to have more similarities than Grace realized.

She continued. “I don’t think they’d appreciate it if I came to school and beat up a fourteen year old.”

“They didn’t appreciate it when you were fourteen, either,” Sabrina said with a smile. “But I did.”

“From what I saw earlier, it looks like I didn’t need to.” The injuries from earlier in the day were nothing but a memory. Grace thought about it, leaving a heavy silence. “You were always so little.”

Sabrina snorted, “I was always taller than you.”

“Seemed so little,” Grace corrected with a laugh. “Back then. You always had your shoulders hunched, and your MCR hoodie pulled up.”

“Oh, I did not have an MCR hoodie,” Sabrina couldn’t help but fall into old rhythms. “Come on, I wasn’t that much of a stereotype.”

“Definitely did, you were especially shy before…” She trailed off again. Bit her lip. “Before your accident.”

Sabrina saw the man’s face from before. The Harvestman. He had certainly looked like a Gerard Way fan. She took a deep breath and let it out. “I didn’t really slit my wrists by accident, Grace.”

Grace went to cross herself, but put her hand back on the wheel. “You opened up after you came out.”

“Probably should have skipped that middle step,” she admitted. “But it’s been… not smooth sailing, but I’d never go back.”

“Caleb is like that,” Grace said. “Not, you know. But he’s vulnerable. He doesn’t have any friends.”

Sabrina danced on the ice. “Do you think he’s suicidal?”

She thought about it. “I don’t know. I didn’t exactly see the signs in you as a kid. We try to talk to him, but he’s not exactly opening up.” As they slowed at the light, Grace gave Sabrina a playful slap. “Also like you.”

“It’s hard to open up,” Sabrina agreed, but there was a half-smile on her face. Even still she was keeping this whole mission from the rest of the krewe. Keeping secrets. “I wish I was around more…”

“Oh no, Rina,” Grace said sternly, “you aren’t going to blame yourself for this.”

“I’m not, I’m not. But it couldn’t hurt.”

“Sure,” she admitted, thinking for a moment. “Do you blame us?”

“I… what?” Sabrina was caught off guard. “No. You were a kid as well.”

“What about mom and dad?”

She shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat. “I don’t know. No? I was an idiot. Maybe?”

Grace couldn’t hold back a grin. “Was?”

“Shut up,” Sabrina laughed, but was looking out the window. She could see the people on the streets, milling about. Many of them were Absent. She’d spoken with a few. They don’t all remember who they are, but they all have stories of loss. All of them had regrets. “Alright, I guess not. I mean, it couldn’t have hurt, but I’d been burned half a dozen times at that point. They didn’t really know how to handle me, they were just doing the right thing. I threw it back at them.”

“Rina, you did not.”

She smiled, and focused on her own reflection instead.

“You were a scared kid. You’d been taught to hide.”

“You’d make a good mom,” Sabrina said, once again sincere.

Grace wasn’t as easily thrown off balance, but she did take the hint. “David and I have been talking about it. Hopefully you’re right.”

“How’s he been doing?” Sabrina asked.

The rest of the drive was much less heavy. Just the usual catching up, things that hadn’t been discussed given the nature of Sabrina’s visit. They talked about blacksmithing, and the renfaire, and Grace’s husband, who was a tinkerer in his own right. He was off at a conference on robotics. Sabrina liked him. Mostly because he made Grace happy, and that was one of the most admirable qualities in a man.

Grace finally pulled up to the church after a ten minute drive. It was a stately thing, in the traditional Anglican style. Big rough blocks of stone in the shape of a cross, with a bell tower. There were ghosts in the cemetery. Often with nowhere to go. Some of them knew Sabrina, while others were new to her.

They could tell she saw them, but she ignored them as she got out of the car. They kept their distance.

“So, how long will this be?” Grace asked, leaning on the roof of the car. She couldn’t see the dead, or the way they looked so needy. “I’m guessing you don’t want me hanging around while you do detective things?”

“You’ve got time for a coffee,” Sabrina said. “I’ll call when I’m done.”

“Roger dodger.”

That left Sabrina alone among the living as she walked up to the church. The dead don’t usually have much to fear from holy ground, but they still took the hint. Except for one.

Sabrina looked him over, at first shocked that Caleb was here. But he wasn’t, it was just a young ghost. Young people shouldn’t leave ghosts. They had to have died in the last decade or so. Judging from the clothes, the last few years. She stopped at the steps in front of them.

“You can see me,” they said, voice hollow.

“And you can see me,” Sabrina pointed out, and started walking passed. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you at the moment.”

“You saw the Harvestman, didn’t you?”

She stopped, and sat down on the steps with a sigh. “Let me guess, he’s been harassing the local spooks?”

The ghost drifted next to her on the step. “The cemetery is safe, that’s why there are so many of us here, but it eats people.”

It wasn’t actually eating them, but the specifics wouldn’t matter. Safety from a Reaper would explain why so many had congregated here, beyond it being their mortal resting place.

“I’ve seen him, yeah.” Sabrina said finally. “He attacked me.”

“Are you the one he’s been after?”

She laughed, “Oh, of course he’s the type to gloat, and talk about his evil plans.”

The child turned to Sabrina, and she could sense the death. A fall. Contusions on the back of the head. “He says you killed him, is that true?”

“In a fashion.”

“He said he’s going to kill the witch’s family.” The child was saying these things with the lucidity of mud, going through motions without really understanding them. “I think you should know that.”

“Well, I’m going to kill him again, first.” Sabrina said, hand gripping the cane so tight her knuckle popped.

“He ate Your Last Boyfriend.” The child had that same distant and half remembered tone, but Sabrina had a moment of panic.

“He what? Who?” Did she have anyone who qualified as a boyfriend?

“Your Last Boyfriend.” The ghost repeated. “He was nice to me.”

She sighed, rubbing her face. Stupid Absent names. “Oh. He’s probably in the Underworld now.” It wasn’t a great place.

“Will he come back?”

Sabrina shrugged. “He might. He might not have a way up. He might be too afraid.”

“Maybe I should go down.” The child said, pulling its knees up on the big church steps. “I thought about it, once. I stood next to the grave and two coins appeared in my hand. But I didn’t want to go alone.”

“I don’t think you should,” Sabrina said, patting the child on the back. “But tell you what, if I’m ever downstairs, I’ll see if I can’t lead Your Last Boyfriend back up here.”

The child surprised Sabrina by leaning against her. She really didn't want to get sidetracked, but it's not like there was a time limit. She sighed, and gave the kid a one armed hug. Then she ruined the moment when a stray thought entered her head and she had to smother a chuckle.

The child looked up at her, expression blank and vacant.

“sorry, remembered a joke.” It was a bad excuse, but not too far off. “I have to take care of some things, but if you want, I'll come back and help you take care of some of your unfinished business. How's that sound?”

“Okay,” the child said, eyes distant.

Sabrina gave the child a gentle pat on the back, and ushered it off towards the cemetery. It drifted away and embers danced next to Sabrina, forming into the Wicked Witch. She wasn't as charred as usual, her chlorotic skin only flickering with thin trails of fire.

“What about you?” She asked, still looking off towards the cemetery and chuckling. “Would I make a good mother?”

Du wärst.

“I'd make a better grandmother,” Sabrina teased, bumping her geist on the shoulder.

The Wicked Witch helped her rise to her feet. The ghost was stronger than she looked, the muscles beneath her black dress were well maintained in life, where she had to chop her own wood and carry her own water. She would know about good mothers. She'd birthed a dozen of them, once upon a time as a midwife.

“Time to see if Yaldabaoth sets me on fire,” Sabrina muttered, dramatically reaching a hand through the door. No fires, not that she expected any. “Damn.”