It was just as Lyon had said.

The castle crumbled - and yet, did not at the same time. Standing within it, she knew when it fell - knew when it exited the waking world, and took it, and everyone with it, into some… other place.

It was like a dream, that never ended. Time that stopped and seemed to drag on at once endlessly in both directions.

Had it been a week? A year? Three hundred years? It was impossible to tell. She had stopped trying.

Adrian had asked her to reconsider - asked her to join him in his escape of the castle as it collapsed. Before it consumed them both. But she couldn't leave - couldn't leave him there, dying on those steps, alone. Her heart was his, and she was bound to him, for all that it meant.

So she had hugged him, bid him the best of luck, and sent him on without her. He seemed both at once upset, and yet, relieved. Isabel could feel that there was a large part of him that rejoiced in seeing that she truly did love Vlad. That she would stay there, with him, in this damnable place as it descended into wherever it was that they now were.

There was no longer a forest past the intricate curling parapets and towers of the castle. In fact, there was nothing there at all. No moon, no stars dotted the sky. The castle was in a void of swirling… nothingness.

Isabel had found it horrifying at first. Lyon had tried to console her - tell her that yes, they were trapped here in some nether-realm of death… but it would fade in time. It always did.

At least she wasn't alone. The castle was, in its own twisted way, very much alive. The monsters, creatures and demons that called the place home seemed to bear her no ill will. In fact, several of them seemed to… defer to her, in some bizarre way. Called her 'Mistress' or, what-have-you. She had laughed silently when they did, and begged them not to. She was Isabel. Just Isabel. Nothing more.

So, she explored. Walked the castle, day after day, seeing all it had to offer. The portrait galleries that moved and talked to her and each-other. The forges where monsters toiled, hammers meeting steel, as they made the chains that moved the gigantic machinery that seemed to dominate so much of the archaic structure.

Isabel met a werewolf named Gregory, and a green-haired vampiress named Elizabeth who was, in some strange and bizarre fashion that she couldn't quite follow, Vlad's 'niece.'

Most importantly, there were two people that she couldn't live without.

Adam and Eric.

She met them, almost 'nightly' (if you could call it that, since there was no moon even to tell the cycle of time. It was really more or less just an agreed-upon schedule kept by the ticking of the gigantic clock tower.) for drinks, poker, dinner, games, what-have-you.

Laughing with them made her feel like this strange place could someday be like home. It was the only one she'd ever know, now.

One night, she had even talked the priest into joining them for games. Adam and Lyon hit it off, talking philosophy and history - while Eric made faces. It was the happiest she could remember being in a long, long time.

All except for two notable exceptions.

Tex - for whom the three of them had finally toasted and poured out a drink for their fallen companion - would forever be missed.

And another, whose presence was sorely lacking.

Every night was the same. After exploring, playing her guitar, reading, or what-have-you, it would always end the same way. She would place her hand upon a door, and shut her eyes. Asking the castle to take her where it knew she wanted to go.

Passing through the door, she shut it behind her. It was a door meant only for her. No one else would find it. It took her to a place that normally made no such concession. It was a vault, hidden somewhere deep. A crypt, with torches that burned and flickered their ever-present flame upon the walls. One with no other doors or windows.

It was his crypt.

The elegant and elaborate coffin sat on the dias in the center of the room, the shining black lacquer of the wood glinted in the flickering light. It shoen off the elegant gothic golden medallions and large cross that decorated the lid.

Every night, she walked to it, and lifted the lid. Every night, she'd look down at the man who lay within.

He looked as he ever had - still as a corpse. For a man who was never normally breathing, it was easy for her to pretend that he was only sleeping. Here, in the castle's netherworld, he never decayed like he had, when they had first met.

God, that felt like so long ago… and maybe now, it was.

Every night, she'd kick off her shoes, shrug out of her hoodie, and climb into the coffin next to him. She'd shut the lid over them, and she would curl up against him, winding her fingers into the fabric of his vest. He still smelled vaguely of roses.

Every night, she'd fall asleep like that, her head on his chest, and let herself believe the next day she'd awake to the day he'd return.

Isabel must still be dreaming.

Fingers were curled in her hair, and she felt an arm around her, holding her close. She shifted, not wanting to wake up. Not wanting it to go away.

Her eyes opened in the darkness as she felt the hand curling her hair around its fingers slide down her cheek, tilting her head up in the pitch black nothingness that was his coffin. Cool lips met hers in a tender, simple kiss, that was enough to wake her.

She lifted her head, expecting the dream to fade away like they always did. She pulled in a startled breath as cool lips touched her forehead. The creak of a lid, and light flooded the coffin.

She pushed herself up - propping herself onto one elbow. He was there. She was awake. Red eyes met her amber ones, and she smiled - laughing silently as she kissed him suddenly. Overjoyed.

He let out a chuckle against her lips and she felt him cup her face in his hand, thumb gently stroking her cheek. She broke the kiss after a long moment. When she looked down at him, he was smiling up at her faintly.

He sat up carefully, holding her as he did, cupping her face in his hands. My Isabel, he said to her silently.

She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him to her tightly. She wanted to say so much to him - wanted to tell him how much she missed him. How much she loved him. How empty it felt without him there. But he knew. There was no need to say the words. He could feel it, all the same.

"If only in all my years, I could have been ushed through the gates of death and back with such a guardian at my side…" he whispered to her, his voice a low baritone rumble. "Perhaps happiness could have been mine far sooner."

If there was anything left of the ghost, it was buried deep, down within the vampire king. Isabel wasn't a fool - she knew that this was only the beginning of eternity with him. And that these moments of peace may only come few and far between. But she'd enjoy them while she had the chance.

'I love you,' she said to him silently. Words she had said to him every night she spent in the castle, in the strange netherworld it resided while he lay dead.

He smiled gently to her, and he ran his lips slowly down her chin, to the crook of her neck. He was starving. His body was crying out for blood. It had laid dormant for so long, and now the pounding of her living essence beneath the skin was calling out to him.

She shifted, and tilted her head to the side, her hand moving to the back of his neck, tangling in his hair. Welcoming what used to terrify her so greatly. She let her eyes slide shut as she felt his teeth against her skin, his sharp fangs descending in his hunger. But not before he whispered to her again in adoration.

"My little dove…"

Ta-dah! There we have it. I hope you all enjoyed!

I'll be starting up my next story, titled 'Halfway Between' in a few days. Keep an eye out! See y'all soon. :)