Author's note: Hello, everyone! My name is WickedKittyRin, and this is my first fanfiction!
So... when my friends and I saw Dark Shadows, we disliked the ending to the extreme. Barnabas belongs to Julia and that's that! :) So now we're going to fix the ending!
This is a collab fic with my wonderful friend flowerbirdie13! Please check out her page and look at her other stories, since she was kind enough to give me the honors of posting this. I'm guessing many of you are fans of Helena Bonham Carter if you're reading this, so you'll enjoy her stories. She does lots of humor involving Bellatrix, and some romance too with a Bellamort pairing. :)
That's all I have to say for now! Enjoy!
My name is Julia Hoffman, and I'm an alcoholic.
Oh, cut me a break, will you? If you lived my life, you would be one to.
God... I could use a drink.
Well, who can really blame me? I live in a crazy house with crazy people trying to cure a crazy boy with crazy treatments. David doesn't hear me. Sometimes I think I'm the ghost, not his mother.
I suppose I do an alright job, though. He was a wreck when I first came here. As long as he doesn't try to throw himself off of Widow's Peak, I consider it an improvement, especially considering that Collins's throwing themselves off of that cliff could be considered a normal activity.
Hmm, got your attention now, haven't I?
It's the truth, though. It seems that this family is drawn towards that deadly drop, particularly the women, affected by some blasted curse that the family insists they are affected by. Curse or no curse (curses are baloney, I say), that drop has quite the history, in fact, it has a history that will cause my entire life to be turned around.
Hmph. People call my little habit "self-destructive." At least I haven't kept myself locked up in the house for years or decided to throw myself into the ocean. If I ever decided it was my time to go, I would off myself with excessive consumption of alcohol.
Who can really blame me, though? If I'm gonna die, can't I be happy in my last moments? At the very least, let me be completely out of it! I don't want any pain or suffering. Just booze.
Okay, okay. So I may be cynical and a depressing sort of person, but you wouldn't think so if you'd seen this new guy who's apparently moved in. Supposedly he's Lizzie's cousin or whatever (don't tell her I called her that). Says he's from England, but he doesn't have an accent or anything like that, and he talks and dresses like he's in freakin' colonial times. Whatever, I don't know much about the world outside of little old Collinsport, Maine; maybe in England they're all just big stiffs. All I'm saying is that it all seems a little bit fishy to me.
Well, the Collins family does run a canning company.
I'll start over. So here I was, just minding my own business and pouring myself my daily breakfast of... apple juice (yeah, that's it. Apple juice.) and I was just sitting there drinking my... apple juice, trying to tune out all the weirdos I unfortunately live with, when I hear an unfamiliar man's voice. At first, I think it's Roger, which is even more reason to ignore him, but something about it is too odd to forget. So I look up, and think, What the hell? We don't just have one newcomer at the table (that little snot Vicky) , which in itself is practically unheard of, but we have two damn strangers eating breakfast with us. Vicky is innocent on the outside, but troubled and frightening on the inside; I can tell just by looking in her eyes. I immediately decided that I disliked her. There is something about that pretty face that irks me. Maybe it's 'cause she's beautiful and sweet and I'm suddenly aware that I look like an old hag in comparison. But I can see something else. She's a liar, and I don't like that very much. It's competition.
The man is at the end of the table. He's extremely pale with dark hair, dark eyes with shadows, and he's wearing... well, I'm not really sure what he's wearing, but it sure as hell isn't normal in any way.
So comes the appropriate inquiry from me, "Who the hell is this?"
I am immediately transfixed by him. Aside from his obviously unusual appearance, something else seems out of place. Could he be sick? I really only work with the mind; I don't do well with physical illness. There isn't much I can say other than he looks out of touch with the world. Almost as if he isn't truly alive.
He's not like Vicky, though. He is not nearly as naïve as her; his eyes are unfathomable and I cannot clearly determine exactly what kind of person he is. All I know is that he looks dead.
And suddenly I feel a connection.
Because he looks how I feel.
He introduces himself to the family. I only hear half of his words; I am studying his face, trying to make sense of what I see. I store the important points into my brain.
His name is Barnabus, Barnabus Collins. He is not an alcoholic.
He says he's here to help bring the family business back to its former glory. The others believe him, but I'm not buying it. He has another purpose, a self-serving one.
I like that.
What I don't like is the way he looks at me. "A woman doctor," he says, as if it were something completely out of the ordinary. "My, what an age this is."
Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down there. "What an age?" You're not that old, mister, I think.
My mouth isn't quite up to speed with the gray squishy thing in my head, though. Not a morning person here. I can only manage a disbelieving "Is he for real?"
At first I am offended, but as I think about it more, I realize I am actually flattered. Why? Barnabas Collins doesn't mean it in a negative way. It takes me that moment to realize that his voice is admiring, impressed. He is approving of me.
For once, I have to agree with David. I like him.
He claims to be a direct descendant of the first Barnabas Collins, not that I doubt it. He has a remarkable resemblance to the first man who lived most of his life in Collinswood, the boy who watched it rise from the ground.
And I suppose that's where everything comes full circle. You see, it was the lover of Barnabas Collins numero uno who was one of the first to throw herself from the cliffs. From that point on, little is known about the first Barnabas Collins, but we can now safely assume that he eventually moved on and started a family; the proof is right before me.
And this Barnabas Collins (the third claims Liz), this fascinating individual that has found his way to Collinsport, I am most sure is going to play a significant part in the time to come. He is too enthralling to not affect me in some dramatic way.
If Josette hadn't offed herself, he wouldn't be here today.
And that, I suppose, is how Widow's Peak will change my life forever.
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