Author: Pirate Turner
Rating: PG
Summary: Sabrina proves herself a Spellman; Salem longs for tomorrow.
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Anti-Spellman
Challenge: None
Word Count (excluding heading): 545
Feedback: Yes, please!
Archive: WWOMB, -- Anybody else, ask, and I'll probably grant permission.
Disclaimer: Salem Saberhagen; Sabrina, Zelda, and Hilda Spellman; and Sabrina The Teenage Witch are & TM their respective owners, not the author, and are used without permission. Everything else is & TM the author. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this work of fan fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
"You're taking this pill," Sabrina informed the cat she was in the process of staring down with one hand resting on her hip and the other holding a pill.
"No, I'm not," Salem returned. His green eyes held her gaze steady. A staring competition was one of the few things he could still win for, as a cat, he never blinked until he wanted.
"Yes, you are," Sabrina spoke determinedly as an idea struck. Grinning wickedly, she pointed at Salem.
Salem cringed inwardly but let no fear show on the outside even as he became a phonograph. Sabrina tossed the pill inside his mouth, and he was powerless to keep it from going down. She waited a few minutes just to make sure and then, smiling, announced, "I win!"
Salem glared at her but could do no more. He'd really hoped she would be different from her aunts, but she had just proved herself a Spellman through and through. He wanted to hang his head and mew in misery but knew it would do no good. The wretched Council had stuck him with the Witches, and he had no real choice but to put up with their punishment for he had nowhere else to go.
After a moment, Sabrina pointed at Salem again, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he became his cat form once more. At least she hadn't forced him to blare out any music for her further entertainment. "I'm sorry," Sabrina told him, "but I had to get that pill down you, Salem."
Salem looked at her for a long moment. Then, with a twitch of his ebony tail, he turned his back to her and stalked off. She'd never understand how humiliating it was to be forced to become whatever object she or her aunts decided they wanted him to serve them as. She'd never understand his pain or sorrow. She'd never understand, period. None of them would.
But one day, he vowed as he settled onto the window seat, one day he would convince the Council that he had changed his ways and learned his supposed lesson, and when they turned him back to his rightful form, he would be even more crafty and endlessly more careful than before. Next time, he purred a promise to himself, he would conquer the world, and then . . . Then, as his first order of business as the new King of both realms, he would change the Spellman Witches into whatever object he desired at the moment.
Salem smiled as the sunlight baked reassuringly into his black fur, his tail swishing slowly from side to side. He kneaded the pillow beneath him as he began to dream of all the changes he would make at that time. They would understand then, he vowed; they would understand his misery for he would make them feel every inch of it a hundred times over. He thought once of raising his voice in diabolical laughter but knew all too well that the Council could look in upon him at any moment, and so he contented himself, for the time being, to bask in the sunlight; knead as any normal, contented housecat might do; and scheme of the day when all his dreams would come true.
The End