Disclaimer: Van Helsing was such an awesome film. Garlic and stakes to those who say otherwise.

A/N: -edit- Found the historically accurate spelling of the vampire'sname.

The snow swirled around them, and darkness fell like a stone. Van Helsing's Tojo blades were readied, every sense strained to the limit, but he could hear nothing, see nothing. The storm which had been so beneficial in their flight moments before was now closing around them like a net. And the darkness of the night was doubly so.

Carina was on her knees, gasping like a landed fish. Van Helsing went to her side.

"Come on, Carina," He tried to help her up, "We have to keep moving."

She fell sideways into the snow, and continued to gasp and writhe. Her eyes rolled, but whenever they focused on Van Helsing they were pleading, begging. Begging for what? Help? Protection?

Death?

"Come on!" Van Helsing tried to pull the woman upright, but he did not take the weapons from his hands. "Don't give up now, Carina! Don't give up!"

Van Helsing managed to get her upright again, and they sat together, Carina slumped in his arms, her hands clawing at the air as she struggled to breathe. Van Helsing put his arms around her, and she grabbed onto them, holding him close. The first night they'd met, Carina had gripped Van Helsing's arm so hard she'd left fingernail imprints. Tonight, she would grip harder.

"Come on," Van Helsing tried to keep his voice calm, "Come on, Carina. Breathe! Breathe!"

She gaped and gasped, her eyes rolling. Her lips moved, as though she was trying to say something, but she couldn't form the words. Van Helsing felt her fingers grip him hard through his coat-sleeves. Something warm trickled down his wrist. Blood.

"Get up, Carina!" Van Helsing peered through the storm. It seemed to be growing in intensity. White snow on black sky. The snare was closing. "We have to go, now!"

Carina's gasping slowed, as though she were gradually regaining the ability to breathe. She looked up at Van Helsing, imploringly. "Please…" she whispered. Then, she went rigid, and she silently formed the word 'no' with her lips. The hope - the life - in her eyes died, turned from flame to ashes in less than a moment.

Over the storm, Van Helsing heard voices.

"… mine, like you said she would be."

"I agreed to nothing, Serafim."

"But you said she would agree to this! You said she'd love me!"

"A woman's heart is known to be fickle, Serafim. I heard what she screamed at you. She hates you. You should reciprocate. What do you think?"

Perhaps it was an accident. Carina was gripping his arms so tight he could not move them. And the blades were so close to Carina's throat. Perhaps it had been a reflex at hearing that familiar voice. Perhaps it had been a muscle spasm in his arm, protesting at the way Carina had been gripping him. Perhaps it was Carina's silent plea: 'please'. Perhaps it had been Carina herself. Perhaps it was all of these; perhaps it was none.

The Tojo blades whirled, and Carina gave a strangled cry. Her blood flew into the snow, sprayed his coat, his face, his blades… "NO!" Van Helsing stared in horror. "NO!" He tried to free his hands, stop the bleeding…

Carina turned her amber eyes to Van Helsing. "Listen to me!" She croaked, as the figures argued their way through the storm towards Van Helsing and the dying Carina. "Listen!"

Van Helsing could only stare in horror.

"Listen!" Carina coughed, and blood foamed over her lips. "You must kill… the King of the Vampyres… or your work will never be done…" Every word was an agony for her, but the vampyre blood in her gave her unnatural strength. It wouldn't last long, though. Not long at all.

"The King of the Vampyres?" Van Helsing frowned.

"Yes… Count Vladislaus Drakulya." She coughed - blood splattered on the front of her tunic. She struggled, gripping Van Helsing's arm even tighter. "Count… Dracula."

It should have all ended with the death of that upstart young aristocrat. But it didn't.

That name seemed to chill Van Helsing more than the sight of Carina's life pouring out of her. The name of a dead man. A dead man did this? A dead man?

Van Helsing stared. "I killed him already. The son of Valerious the Elder? I killed him."

Carina made a feeble laugh. "You killed him? Then perhaps… you should know that he… he came back." Van Helsing felt the woman's grip on his arms loosening. Carina's eyes were glazing over. "He made a pact… with… the Devil. And now… there is nowhere… that he… will not spread… his poison."

Carina's amber eyes locked with Van Helsing's, boring into him. The grip of her hand was suddenly renewed, with almost clawlike ferocity. Blood trickled down his wrist - hers and his, mingling before falling into the snow and blossoming like the mockery of roses, the bright red colour paling to pink as it spread in the snow.

"Kill Dracula!" Carina hissed. "Or all your work will be undone!"

She let go, seeming to relax in his arms. "I have seen the goodness of the Lord in the land… of the living…" Her amber eyes strayed to Van Helsing's face. She smiled, slowly closing her eyes.

And then she was gone.

Two dark figures emerged from the blizzard.

"I love her! And my love will never die!"

"But you did, Serafim. You died…" The taller figure paused, his head titled on one side, smirking. He saw the figure of Van Helsing cradling the still body of Carina. "And so, it seems, did she."

"Carina!" Serafim leapt forward, his grave-grey face twisted in a mask of anguish. "NO!"

Van Helsing couldn't move - he couldn't defend himself, couldn't attack. He couldn't move. He braced himself for Serafim's rage. His eyes locked on Carina's pale face as he wished he'd been able to save her.

The stranger raised a languid eyebrow, then lifted his hand. "Heel, Serafim." He said, almost smirking, and flicked a finger. In mid-air, Serafim fell, crashing into the ground in a flurry of snow. The stranger smiled at Van Helsing. He still had that same arrogant smile that Van Helsing had seen him die with. "A pity," he said with mock-sadness, "She was such a beautiful woman."

A man who looked capable of surviving anywhere, surviving anything. That is how Carina described him. Van Helsing scowled in return. She was right. And she was right.

Serafim struggled to his feet, cursing and crying, trying to get to Carina. But there seemed to be something stopping him from getting any closer. An invisible wall. Or a leash.

"Enough, Serafim," The stranger said, sounding bored, "Your woman is dead. Get over it."

"No!" Serafim stared, wide-eyed, at the pale still form that Van Helsing still held in his arms. "No! If I give her my blood, she could live! She could be immortal! She would be one of us!" Serafim turned to the stranger, pleading. "Please!"

The stranger looked amused. "Your blood would do nothing." He examined his nails, seemingly unconcerned with the storm that billowed around him. "It would be my blood which would save her, and mine alone. You see, Serafim," The stranger smirked, "She did not belong to you. She belonged to me."

I did not want him to drink my blood, understand that. But the damage had been done.

Serafim's face contorted with rage, and he screeched with a vampyre's fury, throwing himself at the stranger. But the man just waved a hand, and Serafim was sent crashing into a snowdrift.

"Understand this!" The stranger laughed mockingly, "You are a puppet now. My puppet! And you will dance to the tune that I play! You are no longer the master of your own destiny - you are tied to mine! And I alone command you!"

"You bastard!" Serafim swore, this time unable even to rise. "I followed you to save her! You said she would be safe! You said she'd be FREE!"

The stranger shrugged. "I lied."

Serafim screamed, but this time his scream did not whip the storm into a frenzy. The storm remained just wind and snowflakes. Serafim lay helpless in the snow, staring up at the night sky with dead eyes. His breath did not smoke in the cold air - there was no warmth in his breath. He was dead, after all.

Van Helsing felt the body of Carina growing cold and stiff in his arms. The blood running down his wrist from the inside of his sleeves was clotting, freezing. He shifted, slightly, gently easing Carina's fingers from around his arms. He gently pulled himself free, laying the woman across his lap instead. Van Helsing set his Tojos, still red with Carina's blood, down.

The stranger turned his attention back to Van Helsing. "Forgive my servant's rudeness. He does not know how to behave in front of a guest." Every time the man spoke, he used sweeping hand gestures, moved gracefully, spoke by looking down or looking sideways at whomever he was speaking to. Carina had been right - this man was a showman, and Serafim had learned from him. Even Serafim's greeting when he had met Carina and Van Helsing in the village were an echo of this man's words. I apologise for Carina's manners. She does not know how to conduct herself with a guest present. Van Helsing said nothing.

The storm howled, and the darkness of the night seemed to grow as thick and as tangible as the soup Carina had made.

"Aren't you going to introduce yourself?" The stranger asked, with a raised eyebrow.

"I think you already know who I am," Van Helsing said, unable to hide the raw hatred in his voice. "And I know you." He glared at the stranger.

"Ah, of course," the man said, his smile not slipping for an instant. "For how could one forget the face… of one's murderer? It's been a while… Gabriel."

"Vladislaus. Son of Valerius." Van Helsing scowled.

The man shook his head. "I prefer Drakulya, or 'Dracula', as the peasants and superstitious call me. 'Son of the Dragon' has so much more effect than 'son of Valerious'." The man's arrogance was almost sickening, and his smirk never faded. "We just keep running into each other, don't we, Gabriel?"

Gabriel. That was his name. Van Helsing could remember now. That one elusive facet of his identity, that one part of him which kept flickering and dancing like a flame, keeping just out of reach. Yes. He was Gabriel. He had been sent by God to rid the world of evil. And this young aristocrat - Dracula - was evil through and through. The taint of his evil was unmistakeable. And strong, because even after Van Helsing had killed him, Dracula had survived.

A man who looked capable of surviving anywhere, surviving anything. Much like yourself.

Van Helsing turned his back on the man. Carina's face looked like a porcelain doll's. Van Helsing found himself choking back a sob - she had shown him such kindness, despite everything, and he had repaid her with death.

"It seems ironic," the vampyre said wryly, in a voice that was almost a purr, "That she should die so near to her father's grave."

Van Helsing looked up at Vladislaus - at Dracula. "I will see to it that she stays dead. You will not take her."

"Who are you to give me such orders?" Dracula looked amused.

Van Helsing levelled his pistol, aiming at the monster's heart. "Your murderer." He fired, two shots.

Dracula reeled, screeching. The snow parted in the darkness, the wind spinning the flakes of white around the staggering man's dark form. Blood that was thick and dark as the night itself sprayed through the air. Van Helsing watched - God forgive him if he didn't enjoy this! - as Dracula died. The man gave one last screech, and then fell.

Van Helsing leant back in the snow, and his hand brushed against something hard. The sword Carina had used to decapitate - protect - her father. The one she had dropped at her father's graveside. Van Helsing turned his gaze back to Carina. She looked so peaceful, as though she were only sleeping. It would be a sleep from which she would not wake. But at least her tormenter was dead. That was all Van Helsing could give her.

"Requiescant in pace." Van Helsing murmured. Then, closing his eyes, he spoke the 27th Psalm for her.

"The Lord is my light and my salvation - whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life - of whom shall I be afraid? When evil men advance upon me to devour my flesh, when my enemies and my foes surround me, they will stumble and fall. Though an army besiege me, my heart will not fear; though war break out against me, even then will I be confident. One thing I ask of the Lord, this is what I seek: that I may dwell in the House of the Lord all the days of my life… for in the day of trouble He will keep me safe in His dwelling…" Van Helsing looked down at Carina. At the woman who had sheltered him and kept him safe. At the woman who bore no taint of evil, even to the end. At the woman who would surely find rest in God's Kingdom. "I am still confident of this," Van Helsing continued, tears in his eyes, "I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord, be strong, take heart, and wait for the Lord."

Van Helsing looked up, and saw Serafim standing not too far away. His shoulders were slumped, but there was gratitude in his eyes. "Carina loved that psalm," the vampyre said sadly. "She had such strength, such courage. Even to the end." Serafim sighed. "If only I had been gifted with a portion of her strength."

Van Helsing stood up, gathering Carina's body into his arms. "I have to bury her." Carina's body was light in his arms compared to the heaviness in his heart.

Serafim nodded. "Wherever you bury her, good sir, I will see to it that none of the villagers go near her grave." His eyes were burdened. "I will protect her in death, because I could not protect her in life."

"Touching, gentlemen. Very touching."

Serafim and Van Helsing both turned, staring. Dracula rose to his feet, straightening his jacket. "That might have been very annoying," he said calmly, "If that had been lethal." He glowered at Serafim. "You are more of a hindrance than a help, Serafim. Get out of the way."

Serafim moved between Van Helsing and the Vampyre. "Kill me, then. I'll not obey you any longer, Son of the Devil!"

Dracula laughed. "Even the Devil was an angel once. You should know that, Serafim. Your name, after all, means 'angel'. Yet here you are… with the soul of a devil in you."

"I'll be a devil no longer, you bastard!"

In the darkness, over the moan of the blizzard, came the sound of beating wings. Van Helsing felt his scalp prickle. The villagers were coming. He didn't have time to spare. Ignoring the taunts and insults that were flying between Serafim and Dracula, Van Helsing felt around in the snow. He soon found what he was looking for.

He needed a grave, a coffin, a tomb for Carina's body. Carina did not deserve to have her body desecrated by the weather and wild beasts. But this was the middle of winter. It would take days to dig through the frozen ground. And he needed garlic and a stake to insure the vampyres couldn't take her.

The warehouse.

With barely a second to think, Van Helsing heaved Carina's body into his arms, grabbed the sword, and started running. The storm suddenly burst down upon Van Helsing. The wind clawed at him, trying to slow him. The villagers' shrieks and screams pulled at his senses. But Van Helsing would not be deterred. He ran to the warehouse, and did not stop for anything.

The door was still open. Van Helsing hurried inside, and slammed the door shut. It would keep the villagers at bay, if only for a while.

This warehouse had been Carina's home. It would serve as her tomb.

The wind was getting furious, and the villagers' screams louder. Van Helsing could hear them just outside. But they were hesitating. Waiting. Why?

Van Helsing set Carina down gently, then raised the sword above his head.

"Forgive me," he whispered, and brought it down.

It had the same effect on the villagers as Carina calling them 'monsters'. Their voices rose in unearthly screeches and shrieks. This time, though, their voices did not just harm the ears. Van Helsing felt their voices battering at his mind. He clamped both hands over his ears, his own screams rising with the howl of the storm.

Be strong, take heart, and wait for the Lord.

Repeating this phrase again and again in his mind was the only way to keep sane. To keep control over himself. Carina wasn't there to grip his arm this time. Carina's favourite psalm was the only thing of hers which could help him.

Carina. He had to finish this, now. Staggering through the villagers' screams, Van Helsing took some of the dried garlic flowers from off the walls, and gently placed them between Carina's scarlet lips. And then, he lifted the sword in both hands. Pleading silently for forgiveness once more, he drove the sword into her heart, pinning Carina's body to the floor. There was so much blood, but it was over.

It was done. God forgive him, but Carina was safe now.

Van Helsing's eyes were drawn to a sparkle of metal. Freed from her severed neck, a small wooden cross on a silver chain slipped free, falling to the floor without a sound. Van Helsing reverently picked it up, wiping Carina's blood from it. She had worn this. She had worn this cross, proof against the vampyres and proof of her faith. Van Helsing closed his hand around the tiny wooden icon, and bowed his head. Tears came freely.

The screams outside continued, but the screams were not of rage and frustration, but grief and regret. They were mourning her. The vampyres were mourning for Carina. But they could not come into the warehouse. The crosses and the ichthus kept them away.

It didn't keep one of them away. Van Helsing whirled, his pistol readied. The cries outside died, and the silence was almost as deafening as the villager's screams.

Dracula looked hurt as he stared at the desecrated - protected - body of Carina. "Oh, please, Gabriel! Have some respect for the dead!" He shook his head sadly. "Such a pity. Such a great pity. She would have been quite useful." He sighed. "A shame she is dead."

"She was dead the day you drank her blood," Van Helsing retorted. "Dead then, dead now, what's the difference?" Van Helsing was taunting the vampyre deliberately, waiting to see his reaction.

Dracula looked at Van Helsing patronisingly. "What good would she be to me without a head? Not only that, but her kisses would taste foul." He indicated the garlic with a sweep of the hand. But under the veneer of nonchalance, Dracula was afraid. Van Helsing could tell.

I know how to kill you, vampyre. I know how to make sure you die, and stay dead.

Dracula smiled politely, and nodded at Van Helsing's pistol. "We have already established that you can't kill me with bullets, Gabriel. It didn't work last time, it didn't work five minutes ago, and it won't work this time."

A handful of snow slid off the roof and fell into the ashes of the old fire. A whisper of wind crawled down after it, and brushed Van Helsing's face with icy familiarity.

"What?"

Dracula looked amused, then laughed. "You don't remember, Gabriel?" Dracula drew the word out, like a caress. He laughed again, then smiled. "I thought you wouldn't."

Van Helsing stared, trying to make sense of what he was hearing. Slowly, he lowered his pistol.

"As I said," Dracula swept his arms wide, "We just keep running into each other. These past two years… Well, let's just say that I never thought I'd get to know my own murderer so well!" The smirking face of Dracula betrayed nothing - nothing but the knowledge that he was one-up on Van Helsing. "But it saddens me that you do not remember our meetings, Gabriel." A savage light glowed up in the vampyre's eyes. "And that you won't remember this one either."

Van Helsing reached back, under his coat, for a weapon. Any weapon. "I will never forget what happened today."

"Oh, I think you will." Dracula started crossing the floor with slow measured steps, forcing Van Helsing to back away. "Just like you forgot the last 'today', and the one before that, and the one before that. We have such a history, Gabriel. You weren't born yesterday. But you are certainly reinvented." Gone was the showman's purring - Dracula's voice was harsher now. Dangerous.

"As always, Gabriel," Dracula smiled, spreading his arms one more, "I offer you the chance to join me. Join me, and I will restore your memories. All of them. The ones you lost in order to kill me, the ones of your life before you knew me… I have them all." He tapped the side of his head. "Join me, and I will restore them."

"Join you?" Van Helsing frowned. "Join you in what? Undeath? As a vampyre?"

Dracula shrugged. "Why not? You and I… we could be partners. Brothers-in-arms."

"To what end?"

"To make the world a better place," Dracula smiled, thinking he had won Van Helsing over. "A better place for us, at least. For my kind - our kind, if you join us. And, as a bonus, you would regain all that you had forgotten."

"What have I forgotten?"

This time, Dracula's smile was darker. "Things which would give even the bravest man nightmares, Gabriel."

"Then maybe some things are best left forgotten," Van Helsing growled, whipping his hands from behind his back, throwing the small knives with lightning speed. While Dracula staggered backwards over the ashes with the blades in his chest, Van Helsing threw open the warehouse door and dashed out into the snow.

Dracula was waiting for him, pulling the blades out of his neck and chest with a bored expression on his face. "This is getting rather irritating." The vampyre said, throwing the blades aside. "Very well then, Gabriel. If you don't want your memories restored… perhaps I shall take away tonight and add it to my collection." He smiled, almost kindly. "Don't worry. Just as before, it won't hurt."

The Tojo blades slid out of Van Helsing's sleeves and into his hands. "You can try," he challenged, and set the blades spinning in readiness.

Dracula snarled, and… shifted. What was human vanished under the skin of some kind of monster. A huge, batlike thing, all teeth and claws and wings. Van Helsing himself was taken aback, but only for a moment. The vampyre threw himself at Van Helsing.

IT COULD BE PAINLESS, GABRIEL! The creature roared. IT COULD BE SIMPLE, AND QUICK! WHY PROLONG THIS?

Van Helsing spun his hands, defending himself with one blade while attacking with the other. "Because there are some things about today that I do not wish to forget!"

WHAT LIKE? THAT GIRL YOU MURDERED?

"I did not murder her!"

Dracula laughed, and swung a claw towards Van Helsing's face. Van Helsing lifted both blades up to his face, to protect himself from the vampyre's blow. Black ichor sprayed in the snow, and the thing that was Dracula roared in pain.

One of the creature's clawed fingers landed at Van Helsing's feet. The batlike creature himself was staggering away, his wings spreading wide, cradling what was left of his hand to his chest.

Van Helsing knelt down and picked the finger out of the snow. On the finger was a signet ring. A silver winged serpent set in jet-black stone.

GIVE THAT BACK.

Van Helsing looked up at the bat-monster which was hovering just above his head. "Take it from me…" he held one of the Tojo blades over it, and spun it threateningly. "If you can."

YOU WOULDN'T DARE… The vampyre glowered

"Would it be such a great loss to lose a finger?" Van Helsing asked, mockingly.

I WAS TALKING ABOUT THE RING, GABRIEL.

"If it's of such great value to you, then perhaps I'll keep it."

Dracula leered, showing all of his fangs in a savage grin. THEN PERHAPS I SHALL TAKE SOMETHING OF YOURS. SOMETHING YOU HOLD IN SUCH! HIGH! REGARD! The vampyre swooped down at Van Helsing, almost too fast to see. Van Helsing's blades whirled, and black vampyre blood flew, but all in vain.

The night belonged to the vampyres. Their powers were strongest then.

As Van Helsing felt his mind give way, he saw the smirking human face of Vladislaus Drakulya looking down at him.

"You and I… we shall meet again."

Van Helsing sat up, groggily, the taste of his own blood strong in his mouth. His vision spun, his senses were fogged. Where…?

It was cold. Snowing. The wind was crisp and sharp, making him draw a breath sharply in reply. Through swimming vision, through the anaemic light of a winter dawn, Van Helsing could see a small hovel covered in snow. It looked half-collapsed. Ramshackle. The roof was completely iced over. In the distance, a town. Or at least, what had been a town. It was ruined now. Van Helsing could smell the smoke. It had burned recently. Someone - or something - had burnt it to the ground.

There was blood on Van Helsing's hands. Blood. And the smell of garlic. The rosary at his wrist was intertwined with a necklace. A silver necklace with a wooden cross. The cross was stained by blood, the blood of some saint…

A swirl of memories - blackness.

Van Helsing woke for a second time. It must have been noon. He had been lying in the snow for hours. And all he had seen between dawn and noon were nightmares. Flashes of images too bright and vivid to be just dreams.

You are free to go.

That voice. A woman's voice. Who…? Van Helsing closed his eyes for a moment, trying to remember. His head throbbed, he fought to keep consciousness. What had happened? There was only darkness. And the smell of blood. Nothing. No name. No recollection. No memories.

All that came to mind was a woman - a somehow familiar face, with such piercing amber eyes - dying in his arms, gripping his arm with such ferocity. The blood in the snow. The darkness of night and the white petals of snow.

"Kill Dracula!" A name, and a face - an arrogant man in black, watching the woman die. A pity. She was such a beautiful woman. She belonged to me.

Van Helsing peered through the storm, and saw nothing but white. There was evil in the air. Not here, at least. But there was something drawing him, like a lodestone… something dark and sinister to the west, the east, the north and the south. Evil, everywhere. Calling for him to put an end to them. Different signatures, different taints. One seemed familiar, but that familiarity - and the memories that may have come with it - was gone just as quickly as the plume of his breath in the storm.

There was a cold hard object in his fist. Uncurling his hand, Van Helsing saw a small black-and-silver signet ring. He slipped it onto his ring finger. It fit him perfectly. Like it had been made for him.

Another flash of images. The face of that woman, that beautiful woman with the piercing eyes, somehow linked to a taste of blood. And then, his own voice.

Rome. To the Vatican

An order? A plea? What had he lost? Why was he to go to the Vatican? Would he find answers there?

There was only one way to find out.

Rising to his feet, Van Helsing steadied himself. He pulled the scarf over his mouth, the brim of his hat low over his face… and then trudged on through the snow.

FIN

Thankyou for reading. :)