Disclaimer: Scott Summers owns Van Helsing. And he rocks because of it.

A/N: I would like to thank the people who have reviewed so far. Thankyou. You guys rock.

Van Helsing's blades were in his hands faster than a lightning strike. Carina did not even blink - but she did not turn her back on him either. She watched him, something like pity in her eyes. Pity for him? Or for herself?

"You're one of them!" Van Helsing hissed, backing away. "You're a vampyre!" What a fool he'd been! He had to get out of here. He had to get to the door, rip it off its hinges and get the hell out of there…

Carina watched him, her eyes burdened with sadness. "You strike me as the kind of man who would not draw his weapons without the intent to draw blood." She paused, watching him. "Why hesitate? Why not strike me down?"

Van Helsing paused. Because you are a woman. Because you are not evil. Because I sense nothing evil in you, or about you. Because I trust you. "Because you showed me kindness," he said after a moment, "Even if now I see your intent."

"Intent?" Carina sounded incredulous. "I had no hidden intent. You were alone, out in the worst blizzard this village had seen for years, and you had just emptied the graveyard of the vampyre's servants."

"Your servants, you mean."

Carina's face turned sad. "Is that what you think I am?" She whispered, her face still tear-streaked. "Is that all I am to you?"

She was taunting him. She was pleading with him. Which was it? One, or the other… or both? Van Helsing narrowed his eyes, but slowly lowered his blades. Carina's expression did not change.

"You're a vampyre." He said finally. Accusingly.

The woman nodded slowly, then paused, and shook her head. "No. I do not… I do not think I am." She set her face, then added with a stronger voice, "No. I am not. I am not a vampyre." Then her eyes veiled. "Not yet."

Van Helsing put his blades away, reaching for his pistol instead. Carina's lips twisted, and she turned away. She picked up the tarnished mirror and stared into it.

"You don't think you're a vampyre?" Van Helsing leant against the wall, reloading the gun deliberately loud. "Why would that be?"

"A vampyre has no reflection," Carina whispered. She turned back to face Van Helsing, the mirror held in both hands. "Yet I do." She touched her lips, parting them in a grimace so her fingers could tap the pointed eye-teeth. "I used to check everyday that there was a face in the mirror. It seemed… morbid of me, so I stopped."

That would explain the dust.

Outside, the howling wind seemed hushed. The sound of snow falling, the sound of the fire crackling and burning, and the sound of the soup in the cauldron bubbling, seemed placid and peaceful. Or should it be, deceptive?

"How much blood was in the soup, Carina?"

She winced. "None! None at all! I refuse to… to…" She choked on the words. "I'm no animal. Nor am I a demon." She set the mirror down on the table, and moved towards him. Van Helsing aimed his pistol, but she was only moving for the cauldron… to stir the soup.

"I told you that you were a fool to come here," Carina reminded him, shaking her head sadly.

"And I told you that I couldn't exactly leave." Van Helsing managed a wry smile.

Carina did not return it. "You are free to leave," she said. "Now that you know the truth of who I am… or rather, what you think I am… You are free to leave. To flee from this place." She gave the soup one final stir. "You are not a prisoner here, Van Helsing. You are free to go."

Van Helsing frowned. None of this was making sense. He remembered Serafim's words. I never thought I would see green in winter, stranger, but here you are. Standing right in front of me. There was no sense of evil coming from this woman. Yet… That had been her cry on the wind when she had knelt at her father's grave - the vampyre cry. And then there were those fangs… Those eyes… That face, that beautiful face… "Are you a vampyre or not, Carina?"

Carina said nothing.

Van Helsing watched her for a long moment, weighing up his options. Finally, he put the pistol away and sat in the chair beside hers. "You could have drugged - or poisoned - the soup," he said. "You could have killed me, drank my blood when I was sleeping, or turned me over to the vampyres in the village, let them kill me. Why didn't you?"

"Because I am not one of them." She stared into the fire, her long pale hands pulling at her skirt restlessly. "Not yet. And not ever, if I have anything to say about it." She looked as though she were about to say something more, but did not. She glanced at Van Helsing, then away, as though ashamed. Or, perhaps, not shame, but something else.

The blizzard whipped around the warehouse, battering at the unyielding stone walls. The fire burned hot and red, colouring Carina's pale face. Van Helsing saw then how easily he had been deceived - he did not see evil, did not see a vampyre in Carina because there was no evil, no vampyre, there to see. She was still human, but… barely.

"How did it happen?" He asked softly.

Carina held up her wrist for Van Helsing's inspection, but said nothing.

"Was it Serafim?" He asked.

Carina shook her head. "He would not have had the stomach for that. He loved me too dearly." She sounded regretful, wistful. "I was so pleased to hear of our betrothal. I loved him. I loved him with all my heart." She sighed, her eyes lifeless again. "But that was years ago. Two very long years."

"Do you still love him?" Van Helsing asked, a little awkwardly.

"No." Carina said firmly. "Serafim is dead to me now. My love is dead and gone."

Van Helsing was beginning to see the holes in Carina's first story filling in. "The stranger infected your village, you said. He corrupted the villagers. He corrupted you."

Carina nodded. "I was not one of the first, but I did not know what he… what him drinking my blood had done to me." She looked over at Van Helsing. "I did not want him to drink my blood, understand that. But I…" She closed her eyes and clenched her fists. "His eyes! I could not move! And then… his teeth… and my hand… I screamed, and ran, but the damage had been done." She stroked the scar on her wrist gingerly. "The next morning, I could not step out into the sun. It… it pained me."

"I thought you said that vampyres could walk during the daylight, that they just didn't have any powers," Van Helsing pointed out, "And we both saw Serafim and the villagers this morning. Standing outside."

Carina sighed. "The sun was hidden behind the clouds, Van Helsing. Direct sunlight can kill a vampyre, but if there is no sunlight visible, they are free to walk."

"Free to walk?"

Carina's lip curled with distaste. "During the daylight hours, they sleep in coffins. They are the living dead, and like the living, they need sleep. So their strength can be restored. Just as you or I…" She paused, then corrected herself, "Just as you would sleep at night, they sleep during the day."

"Like bats," Van Helsing sat back in his chair and stared into the flames.

Carina said nothing, but sat forward and stirred the soup with the ladle. Slowly, deliberately. Then she sat back in the chair and closed her eyes, murmuring a psalm to herself.

"What else?" Van Helsing asked, when Carina had finished.

Carina sighed, but did not open her eyes. "Serafim came knocking on my door three nights later. He had… the stranger's showmanship now. A flair for the dramatic. And he was proud in his… in his new form. Proud in his immortality. He pleaded with me to join him." Carina's voice was flat. "I told him that he was dead to me. I told him to leave me. And, just like that, the man I loved was gone. Replaced by a cruel and bitter man, twisted by blood and promises."

"And the villagers attacked your home after that?"

"Yes," Carina nodded, her eyes still closed. "And they stole my father, when he went out one night to cut firewood. Stole him, and said they would free him if I joined them. I refused."

Van Helsing stared at Carina. "That sounds heartless."

Carina's eyes snapped open, and she glared at him. "Don't call me heartless, Van Helsing!" She narrowed her amber eyes at him, then sighed and closed them again. "My father made me promise never to help him if such a thing happened."

Van Helsing looked back at the fire. The villagers mocked Carina for her heartlessness… but it must have broken her heart to leave her father at the mercy of the vampyres. She had been left with no choice. He apologised, saying, "I didn't know."

"No," Carina sighed sadly. "There is much you don't."

"Then tell me everything you know. Everything you know about vampyres. Their weaknesses, their strengths, their powers. Everything."

Carina's lips twisted with something akin to amusement. "Why so many questions?"

"Why do you think?" Van Helsing's face was set, and his voice was hard.

Carina's eyes snapped open with surprise. She looked sharply, admiringly, at Van Helsing, then sighed and shook her head. "Killing the villagers won't do any good," she said, "The curse did not begin with them. You won't free me by killing them."

"I could at least put them to rest," Van Helsing looked towards to the door. The storm outside seemed to be gathering strength again. "Just as I did the strigoi."

Carina looked at Van Helsing, her eyes brimming with tears, then she looked away again. "Just as the strigoi…" She took a shuddering breath. "You saw what I did to my father," she said. "That is what you must do to anyone who has died after being corrupted by the vampyre taint."

"And how would one kill a vampyre? Not just one who was killed by the vampyres, but a vampyre itself?"

Carina lifted her head, a strange light in her eyes. "I saw a fight in the village once," she said, her voice and eyes distant. "Two uncorrupted villagers were trying to kill Serafim. The cross… repelled him. And two wreaths of garlic protected the villagers."

Van Helsing glanced up at the crosses and the ichthus on the walls. Along with the garlic in the soup, Carina was keeping the vampyre's curse at bay with the Word and the Name of God, as well as an image of His sacrifice. It was a protection - she was trying to protect herself from herself, as well as protecting herself from the villagers.

"One of them had a piece of wood - nothing more than a sharpened stick, really - and they were trying to drive it into his heart. It was a primitive last attempt to save themselves… and to take one of the monsters with them. Serafim's sister rushed to her brother's aid - she too was a vampyre - and the stake plunged into her heart. A happy accident. She was destroyed."

A stake through the heart.

"Of course," Carina continued, absently, "Then Serafim ripped the wreaths off the men's necks and tore them apart." She shuddered at the memory.

Van Helsing took a moment to digest that. "Is there… any other way? Other than a stake through the heart? And contact with direct sunlight?"

The strange light in Carina's amber eyes was still burning. "I don't know," she said faintly. "Why don't you find out?" She rose and crossed the room, then turned back to face Van Helsing, waiting.

The flames leapt up for a moment, and the sparks flickered brightly. The wind outside sniggered through the hole in the roof, twirling the smoke from the fire playfully. Teasingly.

Van Helsing stared at the woman. "You want me to kill you?" He shook his head. "Never!" he said, vehemently. "I could never kill you!"

"Why not?" Carina said, snapping slightly. "You want to kill the vampyres, rid the world of their taint and their evil? If you leave me alive, there will always be one left."

"I could not kill you."

"The alternative is suicide," Carina said bitterly, "And I lack the cowardice to even attempt such a thing."

Van Helsing sighed heavily. "Carina, please."

"I want to die!" She said, her voice trembling, catching on a sob.

The storm started screaming - the winds were whipping into a fury that was beyond compare. Heavy thuds began to hit the walls and ceiling - hailstones, from the sound of it. No longer gentle snow, but heavy rocks of ice.

"Don't wish for such a thing," Van Helsing said, a slight warning in his voice. He rose out of the chair and crossed the room, going towards her. Carina looked at him, trying to hold herself together, then gave up and sobbed.

Van Helsing could offer her no comfort - he was too wary of her now to allow her to sob on his shoulder, too wary to reach up a hand to wipe away her tears. He did not wish to touch her. She would just have to take comfort from the fact that he was near her.

"I can't go on like this," Carina murmured, calming slightly. "Every night, they plead with me to open the door… every night I get weaker and weaker…" She looked at Van Helsing. "He's coming back, you know. That was his voice last night - the voice that wasn't a voice. The one that… that brought me to my knees, that made you stagger. That was him. It's getting clearer. He's coming back for me."

Van Helsing frowned. "Who's coming back for you?"

Carina sobbed. "The Devil's own. The stranger. The one who poisoned me. He's coming back to finish what he started. He's coming… for me."

"Why would he do that?" Van Helsing frowned.

Carina wiped the tears away with the back of her hand. "Because I'm the last. The last of his experiments. He wants to test the extent of his power." She gave something of a sneer. "He wants to see how others survive as vampyres. We are his experiments. His playthings. But as long as I'm here, he cannot move on. He wants to know just what his powers can do. What powers we have."

"And you're not fully vampyre."

"Not yet." Carina said bitterly. "But he's coming back. He's coming back to finish what he started."

Van Helsing took a breath, trying to calm himself. "How long do you have?"

"Can you hear the storm?" She asked. It howled and raged like a savage beast, the hailstones thundering down and down like stones from the skies.

"What of it?" Van Helsing frowned.

Carina nodded to the door. "He's coming." She sighed. "Nature itself rebels against his passing. And in this place, where the land and the people were once so close, where ancient magic and superstition still reign…" She left the sentence hanging, and went instead to stir the soup.

Van Helsing listened to the storm. A dog howled mournfully somewhere, off in the distance. The hailstones continued their rapid-fire tattoo on the roof and the walls. The fire crackled and burned, sparks and smoke rising to the narrow slits in the roof.

"I'm going out there." Van Helsing said. Carina looked up at him, a spark of hope burning dim in her eyes. "Alone," he added firmly.

Carina's lips twisted slightly and she turned away from him, but she said nothing.

"It's not that I don't trust you," Van Helsing said calmly, rechecking that his pistol was primed and readied, "But I don't need any distraction."

"I apologise that I'm so distracting," Carina snapped.

Van Helsing frowned. The woman suddenly seemed very edgy. "What's wrong?"

"Don't you understand?" Carina threw the ladle back into the cauldron with a splash. "If you kill the stranger, all of the vampyres die with him!" She turned to him, snarling. "Van Helsing, kill me now. I will not die tied to that man. Kill me yourself."

Van Helsing made for the door. "You said you weren't sure whether you were vampyre or human."

"I am both and neither," she hissed. "Tainted by his… by his evil, I am sure to die with him."

"You don't know that." Van Helsing said, trying to calm her down.

"Do you really wish to test that theory? You wish to experiment on me?" She raised a savage eyebrow. "You are as bad as he is! Kill me, Van Helsing!"

"I can't," he said. He turned away from her, from those eyes, those beautiful eyes in that beautiful face. "I can't kill anything that is free from the taint of evil."

"Then perhaps you need some motivation!"

Van Helsing whirled, but not fast enough. Carina had leapt on him, screeching and sobbing. Despite the fury of her kicks and punches, she wasn't doing any damage to him. She wasn't hurting him - she wasn't even trying to.

"Kill me, Van Helsing!"

"Carina, stop this!"

"Kill me!"

Van Helsing grabbed Carina's wrists, turned her, pushed her against the wall. "Stop this, please."

Carina, pinned like a butterfly on a board, continued to struggle. "Please," she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "Give me a noble death. Don't let me die like some dog at that monster's leash."

The anguish in her face was almost heart-breaking; Van Helsing had to look away. "I can't," he whispered. "I couldn't kill you."

He couldn't kill her for the same reason that she could not harm him.

Carina gave a small cry of despair, then ceased her struggling. Van Helsing let her down. Carina watched him as he lifted the iron bar out of its place across the door, watched him as he undid the locks, watched him as he opened the door.

A cold gust of wind burst into the room, sweeping a flurry of snow and the sound of the storm in with it. The fire blew low, almost dying, but struggled back, refusing to die, refusing to be extinguished. Van Helsing looked at the fire, seeing, perhaps, a flicker of memory, or maybe a reflection of the human soul.

He looked up at the woman. The flames' reflections flickered in her amber eyes. Her soul still burned, but it burned dull. Hope was all she had to keep her burning.

"God keep you safe," Carina whispered. "You fight the Devil's son."

"The Lord is my light and my salvation," Van Helsing said. "Whom shall I fear?" He smiled slightly, then added, "I do believe that is your favourite Psalm."

Carina smiled faintly, but there was such a sadness in her eyes. "Goodbye, Van Helsing." She whispered. "Goodbye."

Van Helsing trudged out into the snow, bracing himself against the wind and the cold, and the hail which still fell mercilessly, hard and unyielding as stone. He heard Carina shutting the door, binding the locks; heard the heavy thud of the iron bar falling into place. Carina had sealed herself back into her home, and would be waiting.

Waiting for her freedom, or her death.

Van Helsing sighed, his breath smoking in the winter air. He felt plagued by questions that he knew had no answer. Who was the stranger, the one who corrupted Carina's whole village? How had they been so easily persuaded? How many had fought, as Carina had fought? How many of the strigoi - the creatures that had led Van Helsing to this village - had been unwilling victims of the vampyre's curse? Who was the stranger? Where did he come from? Where did his powers come from? Why waste so much energy on trying to force one woman into vampyrism? For some experiment of the stranger's sick design? Or something more?

Goodbye, Van Helsing. Goodbye.

Van Helsing stopped, nearly losing balance in the snow. Why did she say goodbye? Gripped with a sudden misgiving, Van Helsing checked himself.

His pistol was gone.

He raced back to the warehouse, and pounded on the heavy wooden door. "Carina!" He shouted. "Carina!" He pounded with his fists, hoping, praying, that she could hear him. "Carina, open the door!"

Carina, open the door!

Van Helsing stepped back, breathing heavily. Carina would not open the door to anyone who screamed that out - she had made that much very clear. Don't listen to them! If you were not invited in, you were not welcome.

She was going to kill herself after all. With my own weapon!

Van Helsing pounded on the door. "Carina! It's Van Helsing! Please!"

Silence inside. Only the whip and hiss of the wind answered him. The hail stopped, and the wind died slightly, as though the storm was watching curiously to see what Van Helsing would do.

"Carina!" He stepped back. There had to be something he could do… something…

The roof. The hole in the roof - it was only thatching and wood up there. The vampyres could not enter because it was in the shape of the cross - but Van Helsing could.

He scrambled around the side of the house, looking for some way to scale the walls. Looking for something, anything…

Nothing. Only snow and stone. A different man would have cursed. But Van Helsing refused to be stopped. He had other weapons - among them, blades of every sort. He could only pray that the walls of Carina's home were thick - he would not want to bring it down upon her. He selected two blades, and, checking they were firmly secured in each hand, jammed the first between the stones of the wall.

The wall held, and the blade did not slip. Perfect. Van Helsing jammed the second knife into another crevice, and slowly heaved himself up the wall, inch by inch. By the time he reached the roof, his arms were shaking with exhaustion. But he did not stop. He scrambled across the roof, heading for the hole which passed for a chimney.

There was no time to call out to her. She would hear him and kill herself sooner. Without a second thought, he ripped away the overhang, then kicked at the snow-covered wood and thatching of the chimney slit until it widened and collapsed. Then, he jumped down.

Snow cascaded down with him, hitting the fire and melting into water, hissing and spitting into steam. Ice fell, hitting the floor with porcelain music.

Van Helsing looked around. Carina was alive - sitting in her chair by the fire, with her mirror, of all things! - and staring at him with a horrified expression on her face.

"You destroyed my sanctuary!" She gasped, horrified.

Van Helsing sighed, relieved she was still alive, but irritated by her response. "Well, I did knock."

"I only heard Serafim," she said, composing herself and looking back into the mirror she held in her hands. "I did not hear you."

"Serafim?"

There was a cry on the wind, a long wailing cry which seemed to be getting louder and louder, closer and closer. Unmuffled by the stone walls, it whirled around the room and in Van Helsing's head. The shrill of a vampyre.

Carina…

"I told you," Carina said, still watching her reflection. "Now that you have broken the roof, there is nothing to stop him from coming in." She said this calmly, but her hands shook, and her face complexion grew even paler.

"You had my gun," Van Helsing said, by way of an apology. "I thought the worst."

Carina looked up at him, and Van Helsing was taken aback. While Carina's eyes had been sad or dead before, these eyes were the most lifeless eyes he'd ever seen. There was no hope in them.

The fire died, smothered by snow and ice, and crushed by the bitter wind. The screams of the wind seemed like mocking laughter, and the snow fell in fist-sized flakes which refused to melt. This was their warehouse now; it was Carina's sanctuary no longer. It would be a warehouse of cold. A warehouse of snow. A warehouse of death.

Carina… Carina…

"Where can I go now, Van Helsing?" Carina asked him, her voice flat and dead, "Where can I go that I will not be pursued, or hunted, or captured, or killed? Where is it safe? Where is a sanctuary?"

Van Helsing said the first thing which came to his mind. "Rome. To the Vatican."

A spark of hope lit briefly in Carina's eyes, then died. "I am no Catholic."

"That doesn't matter," Van Helsing said, crossing the room, stepping over the ashes of the dead fire to be near her. "They'll protect you there. The Lord will protect you. You have faith, don't you? You'll be safe."

Carina… Carina, my love…

"But we have to leave now," Van Helsing added. "And quickly."

Carina looked up at Van Helsing, her eyes flickering to the hole in the roof. "Rome," she said softly. "I haven't been to Rome in so long…" She smiled - there was hope again in her amber eyes. Hope… and freedom. She set her mirror down, and nodded at Van Helsing. "Yes, Rome. Let us go." She went to the door, and with feverish hands started undoing the locks. Van Helsing came to her side, and lifted the iron bar, throwing it aside. It landed with a heavy thud, digging a trench in the floor as it came to rest.

Carina retied the headscarf around her hair, then fumbled in her shawl. "This is yours," She said, holding out the pistol to Van Helsing. "I did not intend on using it, though. Forgive me for stealing it from you."

Van Helsing smiled at her. "When you get to the Vatican, confess to a priest."

"But you don't forgive me?" She asked, giving a brief impish smile.

Van Helsing smiled back, and rested a hand on her arm. "Of course I forgive you. Just… don't do it again."

"CARINA!"

Van Helsing and Carina turned to see the savage snarling face of Serafim, framed in the hole in the roof. He was still human… but barely. There was no hiding the fangs now, nor the demonic colour that burned in his eyes. The grave-grey colour of his skin. The smell of evil coming off of him in waves.

"Oh, no…" Carina whispered, gripping Van Helsing's arm. "It's sunset."

"Carina…" Serafim stared darkly down into the warehouse, kept at bay by the crosses and fish in chalk. "You are mine! You belong to no-one else! You know that! Yet here you are, consorting with this stranger!"

Van Helsing suddenly realised how close he was standing to Carina. From Serafim's angle, it would have been a simple mistake to make. It was not Van Helsing's intention to anger an already angry vampyre. But he got no chance to explain himself.

Carina raised the pistol and fired. One, two, three explosions, the bullets singing true through the blizzard air towards the hole in the roof. Serafim hissed, and vanished out of sight.

"I am not yours!" She screamed. "And I never will be!" She fired at the empty hole twice more. "GET AWAY FROM ME!" She screamed louder, and her vampyre rage distorted her words, "I HATE YOU, SERAFIM!"

The wind died without ceremony.

In the silence, where the storm was stilled, Van Helsing heard the vampyre's wail… getting softer and softer and further and further away. It sounded as though he was sobbing, but that might have been the wind.

"Quickly," he grabbed Carina's arm, "We have to go."

"No," she said, pulling away from him, the pistol still firm in her grip, "It's after dark now. The vampyres will be out in force. We'll be slaughtered."

"Then what do you propose we do?" Van Helsing asked, a little snappishly. "Stay here and defend a home that has already been breeched?"

Carina bit her lip, her slightly pointed teeth suddenly very noticeable. However, Van Helsing noticed, they were not as long as Serafim's had been.

"Then we must run," she said finally. "Run and never look back."

"Couldn't have come up with a better plan myself," Van Helsing agreed, and threw the door wide. Together, they hurried out into the calm, running through the snow and the cold, going as fast as they could.

The air was crisp and bracing - it no longer seemed bitter or biting. The snow seemed to part before them like a gossamer curtain. It seemed to beckon them on, helping them as they fled. Their breath smoked in plumes in front of them. It seemed as though the weather was urging them on, silently cheering for them to hurry, to run, to escape…

Van Helsing found himself glancing at Carina as he ran. There was life in her now, a hope burning bright in her eyes that seemed like it wouldn't die. From this tiny village in Romania to the Vatican City was a long way, but it was something to hope for. It was better than languishing in four walls, day-by-day being destroyed by fear. He smiled. Carina would survive this. She would finally be free. Carina looked over, and smiled back at him as they ran. She seemed to be thinking the exact same things.

They got as far as the grave of Carina's father before she staggered, falling to her knees in the snow.

"Too late," she gasped, as though she'd been punched in the gut. "He's here."