Hello all. Long time, no see. Last summer, I decided to do a complete re-write of Demons, seeing as I loved it so much and wanted to go into more depth in a second and revised draft, but due to personal events, I did not end up finishing it. I only got to Chapter Eleven. It is my hope that I shall finish this version of Demons soon, but until then, I decided to post some of my re-write, if for pure motivation on my part.

There are not a lot of changes that were made until we get into later chapters, but hopefully you will find the story to be more rich and encompassing once I finish. Until then, please enjoy these few chapters!

I'm also planning on posting some one shots that I had ideas for but didn't take place within the timeline of this story, so be on the look out for those. To be true, they may not be posted until April due to the fact that I am currently abroad, but I shall try and write them so the updates will be quick.

Thank you all for your comments and support. It really does mean a lot.

Bubble

Chapter One:

Roses.

There were roses adorning the casket as he walked up to it slowly, with Phoebe gripping his arm to steady him. He stiffened at the sight of them, not because he didn't find the roses to be the perfect arrangement for the occasion, but because the flowers reminded him of his dearly departed Sibella.

As he glanced at the blossoms, tears began to well in his eyes. His gaze then roamed to her coffin and his heart grew heavy with grief, regenerating the pain he'd felt when he had first heard the news.

"It was such a shock," he heard someone remark, "She died so suddenly."

At that, Monty felt a lump in his throat begin to form, and he tried to swallow it down. He couldn't stand it; the thought of Sibella being dead; the thought of his Sibella forever lying in a coffin, cold and pale. It was too much, too painful, and Monty had already suffered enough from her death itself.

Phoebe, noticing Monty's sadness, took his hand and squeezed it in solidarity. Without a word, she led him to a pew where they seated themselves in silence. Phoebe kept her gloved hand clasped over his tightly, wanting him to know that she was there for him and that she was suffering just as much as he was, if not more.

Monty glanced around the church, seeing all of these high-society lords and ladies flutter in and out of his peripheral vision. He barely recognized any of them and wondered if they cared about Sibella or if, now that she was dead they were just here for the publicity, for the gossip, or to spread rumors about her.

He looked at them and saw monsters staring back. How else could he think of them? They all were so shallow, so pretentious, so uncaring. None of them had really known Sibella, none of them had loved her like he and Phoebe had. These people were just vultures; animals who came to scrounge the dead for every last bit of meat they could take. Monty hated the lot of them.

Phoebe noticed that Monty was consumed by his thoughts and she kissed his cheek gently. Her brown eyes glanced at his pale, sad face sympathetically, her entire being radiating pity for him. She knew that this was taking a toll on him, that he had loved Sibella with all of his heart. She had loved the blonde woman too. Sibella had become an intimate companion for her, a friend as well as a lover.

The other guests at the funeral were moving around the church while Monty and Phoebe sat stationary in the pew, silently reflecting on their loss.

"Monty…" Phoebe started.

He glanced at her, and she saw the pain in his eyes. She sighed, kissed his lips, and patted his hands affectionately.

Monty attempted to give her a faint smile. He was so grateful for her. He loved Phoebe for her steadfast devotion and compassion. She had a heart of gold, and didn't have a mean or hurtful bone in her body. He loved her even more for that.

He had loved both of his girls; both Sibella and Phoebe.

The news of Sibella's death had shocked them both. When the message had arrived Thursday by way of the morning post, Monty had been stunned into silence by the obituary. Phoebe had nearly fainted. When he had called the Holland residence to confirm the horrible news, Lionel had informed him that indeed it was true, that Sibella had died suddenly of a mysterious illness.

Now, here at the funeral, amongst the other mourners, it was finally hitting them both. Monty clasped Phoebe's hand tightly as they saw someone approaching them. They stood up to let them into the pew.

"Well, isn't it the Earl of Highhurst?" The voice belonged to no other but Lionel Holland.

Monty hid a grimace as he glanced up at the older man. "Mr. Holland," he replied in a stiff voice as he stuck out his hand automatically, "My condolences."

Lionel shook his hand, standing over Monty just by a few inches. He was dressed in all black, which was customary, and a little pink rose in his top hat, for Sibella.

Monty swallowed hard, wanting to snatch that rose from his hat and stomp it into the dust. He didn't deserve to mourn Sibella. Lionel Holland was nothing but a dry, old cumquat who had lured Sibella in with his money and had left her to mull around the house in luxurious boredom. He hadn't loved her, he hadn't cherished her like Monty and Phoebe had.

"Thank you," said Lionel after a moment. "Mr. Navarro," he started, forgoing Monty's proper title, "would you care to take a walk with me?"

Monty swallowed, feeling as though Lionel had trapped him into saying yes. He nodded and left Phoebe in the pew. She caught his eye as he started walking and he could see the hesitation and fear in her eyes, wondering what would occur between the two men.

Reluctantly, he pulled his gaze away from her, and focused on the path ahead as he and Lionel walked slowly around the church as the guests were slowly departing, couple by couple.

"My wife was very fond of you," Lionel began, making Monty's blood curdle at his use of 'my wife.'

"Oh?" Monty was daring him to go on, his tone challenging and threatening.

Lionel smirked at the reaction. He paused in his steps. "Some say she was too fond of you… some might even have thought that you were her husband from the way she talked about you…"

"I wouldn't be surprised if that was the impression she gave, seeing as you weren't the greatest husband to her either way," Monty snapped back, glaring at Lionel, "You left her to rot in that mansion of yours, you never showed her any love or compassion."

"At least I was her husband," Lionel's low tone of voice only made Monty angrier. He felt as if he could snap Lionel's neck and that he would be doing the world a favor.

"She never loved you!"

"And yet she was my wife, not yours!"

People's heads started to turn their way, for they were causing quite a scene.

"You should have died instead of her," Monty uttered darkly, a murderous glare in his eyes.

Lionel's lips parted, preparing to retaliate, but he found himself interrupted when Phoebe suddenly appeared, lacing an arm through Monty's. A sweet smile blossomed on her face as she leaned her head on Monty's shoulder gently.

"Monty, darling, I believe the Earl of Grantham wants to see you," she told him, an obvious lie, "Shall we go over and say hi? Excuse us, Lionel, but we must go converse with the other mourners." She tugged Monty away from Lionel.

They walked away from Mr. Holland and found themselves near the front of the church where the casket was.

It was a simple pearl white color, with silver etching and handles protruding from the sides. Monty knew that Sibella would have approved. The contrast of the white and silver with the vibrancy of the pink and red roses was pleasing to the eyes.

Sibella lay there in the casket, the silver fabric of the lining surrounding her. Monty froze in his spot as he looked at her. She looked so beautiful, too lifelike to be dead. For a second, he feared that Lionel was going to bury her alive, that the doctor had made a mistake and that her heart was still beating.

"She looks beautiful," remarked Phoebe softly, taking a step towards the casket.

Monty nodded. "She does, doesn't she?" His eyes glanced over her body, seeing that she was clothed in a pink dress. He smiled softly at that. He knew she would have been happy with the choice.

He bent down, his face brushing past her golden curled hair, and kissed her cold lips gently. "I've always loved you, and I always will," he whispered as he pressed his lips against hers. He stood up after a moment, wiping a stray tear from his face, and took Phoebe's hand.

Phoebe kissed his knuckles. Monty glanced at her face, finding it sad and forlorn. He knew that she wanted to kiss Sibella's lips as well, but that it would be improper to do so.

Instead, Phoebe bent down and kissed the blonde's cheek. She then linked arms with Monty and rested her head on his shoulder. "We should move to let others come and pay their respects, my love," she told him softly after they had been standing there a while.

Monty nodded after a moment, having been mulling things over about Sibella. Just as they were about to move, an older man moved up to the casket. It was the groundskeeper of the graveyard, if Monty had remembered correctly, when he suddenly gasped and hissed.

Hearing the strange sound escape from the man's lips, Monty turned and saw that the old man was crossing himself and muttering something under his breath. Phoebe turned as well and frowned, confused.

"Sign of the devil that is," muttered the old man in some foreign accent Monty could not place, "Sign of the devil…"

Monty peered at the groundskeeper, "Excuse me sir, is something the matter?"

"Don't you see that?" he said, pointing to Sibella's throat. "It's the sign the devil's been to her."

Monty scrunched up his face, trying to figure out what in the world the old man was talking about, when he saw it.

On her throat were two small puncture marks, almost like teeth indentations. Monty couldn't believe he hadn't noticed them before. They were fading away, but the imprint of them was still there.

"I-I don't understand," said Monty, shifting to allow Phoebe to inspect Sibella's throat as well.

The old man began to laugh, his stomach shaking, but his face was serious. "Course you don't understand, you fools know nothing," he said harshly, "But I've seen things, I know what this is!"

He looked at Monty and Phoebe sternly as he pointed to the marks on Sibella's neck. "That… that is the mark of the Undead."