Chp11 up! As we get nearer and nearer to the story's end, will Gabriel get Anna back, or will he live in regret and sorrow for the rest of eternity? Please keep reviewing, it means so much to have good reviews to any writer, it makes it easier to carry on writing if you know people appreciate your work.

QueenCreaterOfMyLittleWor: Glad to hear you like it, don't worry, at least five more chapters yet to come, maybe even more.

Chapter 11: Trapped

Gabriel watched as his age old enemy calmly walked up the steps towards Anna's prison. It took all of his well-practiced self-control and his essentiality of Anna's safety to stop him jumping on the spawn of the devil and kill him there and then. He concentrated solely on the first part of the plan: getting in to the room.

Dracula's well kept ashen hair was, as per usual, swept away from his face in a golden clip-band. His black tunic was like that which one would expect to see a prince wearing at a royal gathering, not the devil's servant wearing it for a casual walk around his castle. He appeared as if he had not aged a day in nine years, though in technicality, the vampire could not age, which explained the old-fashioned decorative detail on his shoes and jacket.

Gabriel snuck closer, feeling that it was slightly easy to get this close to Dracula without him realising. He watched silently as the demon reached into his pocket for a silver rusted key. He placed it in the lock and turned it round, causing the huge Iron Gate to open up before them both. Just like a portal into Hell Gabriel mused. He followed Dracula into the circular prison, making sure his footsteps were in time with Dracula's so he wouldn't hear him.

However, as he got inside the chamber, the gate slammed closed automatically, as if re-locked by an unseen force. He turned to look at it, it was most definitely forced closed, but by what? He heard a deep echoing laugh behind him, and his eye's widened. Slowly, Gabriel turned, knowing that his desperation for Anna's safety had led him to become the one thing that wouldn't help either of them.

Trapped.

Anna was now sat on the ground beside her father, knowing that it could be a while before she was out of this empty plain. Boris held his daughter close to him, like he had done to comfort her while she cried after her mother was taken by Dracula all those years ago, only then she had been a mere six years old, and her brother ten years.

"Father, what is happening to my body? I know I am in pain, that I am hurt, but I cannot feel where or why." Anna asked, she could not defend herself in this state, so who was to know what brutality Dracula had submitted her to when she was 'sleeping'.

Boris sighed, and Anna noticed not to far away that a fountain had begun to fill with water from an invisible source. She had not seen it before, and wondered if it had appeared there as suddenly as her father had. Boris stood up from his seat on the floor, taking Anna by the hand and helping her up also, and led her over to the fountain.

It was beautiful, filled with water that was shimmering in the light that seemed to come from the radiance of the fountain itself. There were tiny flowers scattered over the surface of the pearly water, which caused tiny ripples with their petals as they floated around lazily. The fountain itself was made of the purest marble. The white stone was not extremely worn over it's delicate pattern of cherubs and angels that rose from the centre but it was still silky smooth in appearance.

Anna was breathless when she saw it. It reminded her of the beauty that she saw in the love that her and Gabriel shared, and also of the innocence that she saw when she looked at her daughter. "Father, what is this?" She asked in a whisper, overcome by the astounding peace that she felt in the presence of this fountain.

"It was forged by the highest angel's of heaven." Boris told her, having told the tale to so many now he knew it by heart. "The left and right hands of God." Boris looked at her out of the corner of his aged eyes, watching the recognition on his daughter's face at the names he mentioned.

"Gabriel. He made this?" She said with amazement, not understanding how the monster hunter, despite his gentlemanly attitude towards her, mad created something so beautiful out of his bare hands.

"Not in this lifetime." Boris informed her." Before he lost his memory, he lived here in heaven, as the second highest angel in creation, second to only one, a most beautiful angel. The two of them were in love, so much love that you could sense it from a mile away when you saw them together." Anna looked away from her father in sadness, unable to linger on the thought of Gabriel in love with another woman. "But she was lost in a battle, and her soul was believed to be gone forever, dragged into Hell by Dracula himself when she and Gabriel fought and destroyed him for the first time." Boris sighed, knowing that what he had said had upset Anna, he put his arm around her shoulders, before indicating for her to sit on the edge of the fountain. When her skin touched the marble, she found herself feeling that Gabriel was there with her, comforting her through the fountain. "For many generations, he was but a shell of an angel, and he swore on his place in heaven that he would find her. He went to this fountain, the one that they had built together in a celebration of their love, and sat by it day and night for over a hundred years, searching every inch of the Earth for his angel. He realised, after this time, that the only way to find her would be to return to Earth as a mortal. Before leaving heaven, he was told that she had been rid of her memory as she fought Dracula, and would not remember him at all. This saddened him greatly, and he told God that he wished to have his memory erased also, so that they would find each other, and rescue one another from the emptiness in their hearts. An emptiness that was a space they reserved for only one thing, the love of the other angel."

Anna's eyes were filled with tears as she listened to the story of Gabriel's past love. She wondered if he was searching like that for her at this moment, whether he was as distraught that he was not with her as she was by the angel's disappearance. She swallowed a sob, and asked the question she was dreading. "Did – did he ever find her?" Boris did not answer her directly at first, but only continued with the story that had marvelled all newcomers in heaven for centuries.

"He joined a legion of God's followers, a secret organisation that still resides today underneath the Vatican church. He did not remember who he was, where he came from, all he knew was that he was searching for something, a someone that he lost that he knew nothing about." Boris smiled. "Then he got a mission on day, one that brought back memories. He was shown three pictures of three people that were involved in his mission. The one that was lost, myself, the one that had disappeared, your brother, and finally, the one he recognised, though from where he did not know, you."

Anna's head snapped up to look at her father, unable to fully comprehend what he was saying to her. "Me?" She asked, gazing at her father with great confusion.

"He travelled to our land, and as I watched from heaven, I, too, was told the story by your mother, and in turn, so was your bother. We saw him hold you battered body after he turned on you in the werewolf form, still not fully cured of the curse. We saw him cry as he turned back into a man, a broken man, who had lost, found, and lost again, his one true angel."

Anna smiled through a few tears that fell down her pale skin. "I was the angel?" She said with happy disbelief.

"You still are, my darling," Boris said, drawing his daughter to him and kissing her forehead. "You always will be."

Anna hugged her father tightly, crying happy but silent tears. His story was a true one, she knew her father would not lie to her, and it proved what her heart already knew. Her and Gabriel were meant for each other, a literal match made in heaven by God himself. Every time they confirmed their love for one another, they had been writing their own prophecy, their own story.

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