This couldn't be real, he thought sadly, it was all just an illusion as it always was. Anna smiles at him, a soft smile that he saw every time he closed his eyes; her hands were soft too as she ran them up his bare chest and to his shoulders. "I've missed you," he says, keeping his eyes on her and memorizing every single detail.
"And I you," she agrees, tilting her head slightly to the right. "What is it; do I have something on my face?"
"No, you're just perfect." She laughs, throwing her head back and really feeling free—a bird finally let out of its cage. His eyes sting as they fill with tears, unable to blink them back as he usually does in these moments. She notices right away and sobers up, looking worried and cupping his check with one of her hands. "Anna…."
"What is it, love; what's bothering you so much?" He shakes his head, beginning to shake with sobs and falling to his knees as horrible images flash through his mind. Him turning into a monster, Anna running in with the cure to save him, the uncontrollable blood lust that all new Werewolves go through, her dead body lying on the settee…. It was all too much for him; the only woman he'd ever had feelings for ripped away by his own hands.
"I'm so sorry," he cries, clutching at her for dear life. She was warm and he cherished it even if it only lasted for a moment. "I'm sorry, I never meant to—" The scene had changed and they were no longer in his room, but back at the castle where everything went wrong. She lay, unseeing, on the settee while he kneeled at her side with his head bent in grief. It wasn't fair, he had done everything the Order told him to but he still lost the one precious thing in his life! Why couldn't he touch something without it breaking?
Van Helsing shoots up in bed with a pained gasp, tears leaving wet tracks on his cheeks as he looks around him at the empty room. It was sparsely decorated save for a few paintings, a wardrobe, and the bed. His breaths came out in heaving pants, as though he had just ran a mile or two instead of tossing and turning in the large bed. He hadn't had a nightmare like that in two years and he wondered what had triggered it now.
A woman enters the room then, the infant girl in her arms cooing softly. He smiles, gesturing for the child and holding it close to his chest. Her eyes had recently changed from blue to brown and her mother couldn't be angrier that they hadn't been the hazel of her brother. "Have you been awake long," he asks, wrapping his free arm around his wife's shoulders and pulling her close so that they were both looking down at little Ilona.
"Are you alright," she asks, noticing his rapid breathing.
"I'm fine, just had a nightmare." Ilona giggles, reaching out one tiny hand and clutching tightly at his shirt. "She may not have his eyes, but she certainly has you're your brother's strength." Anna smiles at that, wishing Velkan could be here to see his niece, but also knowing that he would see her many years down the road. She would see all of her family again.
Van Helsing gives a quiet chuckle at his daughter's yawn, noting that the hand that wasn't holding his shirt was in what little hair she had. Yes, the dream had been an illusion, but this couldn't be more real for him; both of his girls in his arms and safe. He couldn't ask for anything else.