Ladies and Jelly Beans, Chapter 6 shall commence shortly! But before I go on I must gratuitously thank my number one, and only, fan. JiLLiBeanz, from myself, from Vincent, and from the people of fanfiction who do not yet know of the marvels of this story which your reviews alone have inspired, thankyou. *Bows deeply, applause sounds* Now that is done, on to the last intro part!

She was a lot more cautious as she descended down the stairs this time, using a proper torch and tentatively feeling her way along the slippery stone and kept her back pressed firmly against the wall. Her arm still stung from the graze she got before. Her foot caught a cracked bit of stone on one and crumbled underneath her, and she yelped, twisting her ankle a little but she carried on being even more cautious.

She'd picked up another spade, just in case and was glad she did. It helped her swelling ankle support her over the uneven surface. She reached the solid door after about 5 minutes of hobbling, and stared at it as if half expecting it to disappear in a puff of smoke. With everything else that had happened recently she wouldn't be surprised. Once she was sure it was as firm and stubborn as it had been before she bent down slowly, wincing, to study the carving. She tried pushing it, pulling it, turning it, rubbing it in the hopes it would open the door. But no such luck.
"Course." She muttered a little annoyed and feeling a little foolish. "That sort of stuff only happens in the movies."

Then she remembered the padlock and, heaving the spade up, smashed it down on the join. The iron shuddered and groaned and she grinned. She raised it again and brought it down, and again, over and over until the padlock was wailing with the strain. The fifth strike saw the ancient rusted metal snap and with a tinkle the shattered metal hit the earth. She heaved a couple of breaths, leaning on the spade a little. Her ankle throbbed. However she pushed herself upright and shoved against the door, her eyes closing in the effort to heave it. It wouldn't budge.
Things weren't going to plan she realised as after 20 minutes she still couldn't shift the huge thing. She growled.
"Damn it!" She punched the wood angrily staring at the frame, when she saw it slide open perhaps half a centimetre then slam shut again. She blinked and pushed it again. The same thing happened. Picking up the spade she shoved the door and slid the blade in the gap. It held and she grinned, before pushing against the handle of the spade. Slowly, inch by inch, she levered the door open until it was wide enough that she could slip though it. Before it slammed closed she jammed the spade in sideways, keeping it open. It held to which she was grateful, and she proceeded. And gasped. She was in the cellar, in the room where her night terror had taken her. Her blood ran cold for a minute as did her skin, the room was freezing and her breath came out in small puffs of smoke. She looked around, noticing with horrifying clarity that not even a spiders web was in there. Not even insects could break into, or escape from the room.

What horrified her more however, was the huge rusted spade that was leaning against the wall. It was just as she'd seen. And the large patch of charred Earth, undisturbed since when it was first burnt sealing the vampyre inside. She shuddered but walked over, her footsteps echoing off the frozen ground and icy walls, and she hissed when she picked up the ice cold metal, feeling her skin burn at the contact. But still she dragged it over and started digging.

It was silent except for her shovelling, and that was scarring her. Shouldn't he be shouting or groaning by now?
"Don't be dead." She whispered as she dug through the six foot line. "Don't give up. Please." She didn't know what she was saying, she felt ridiculous. He was long dead, what was pestering her was his spirit longing to remain at rest. Yet still she carried on whispering as she fast approached the six and a half foot line. By now she couldn't even reach the rim of the hole let alone climb out, her ankle was throbbing as was her arms and back. She brushed hair and a thin sheen of sweat off her face, smearing her cheeks with mud. She was exhausted, and starting to doubt her own sanity. She shovelled another load. 'One more foot. If, after that nothing, then I give.' Quite how she was going to get out she didn't know, but before she could dwell on it further there was a rough scraping sound. She froze. She'd hit rocks and rubble along the way, but this sound had been different... This had been wooden.

Almost as soon as she'd scraped the casket she felt scratchings.
"Help me..." The voice whispered. "Mercy! Mercy please!" She got to work, clearing the rubble and dirt, unable to believe this was happening.
"It's OK!" She called. "It's OK I'm here to get you out!" She could soon feel the edges of the coffin and could feel the grain of the wood that made it. The scrapings were louder.
"Help me!" The voice was desperate, almost crying. "Please! I beg of you please help me!" She thought she heard a choked sob at some point. The wood had rotted and was weak, but frozen and brittle so it could cause injuries to both parties if she wasn't careful. "Get me out of here please!"
"Calm down!" She called gently. "It's OK. I'm going to get you out, but I need you to calm down first." He didn't and she sighed, there wasn't enough room to prise the lid off...

Once again the spade came to the rescue. She smashed the corner and the wood predictably splintered but she heard no yells of pain so she proceeded with tearing the lid of chunk by chunk. The now dim torch shone in slowly as she revealed the form of the man who had haunted her the past few days. It was worse than the images, he was hurt so badly. The stakes had splintered, and his skin healed around them embedding shards of deadly wood in him that tore his muscles every time he moved, the skin on his wrists and ankles was almost blackened and one of his shoulders looked dislocated. She gasped.
"Oh my God..." She clambered in and snapped the stakes that held him in until she could remove them properly. She didn't ask if he was OK. The answer was obvious. Instead, through some minor miracle she managed to haul him out of the coffin. He slumped against her heavily, to weak with pain and hunger to support his own weight. Again somehow she managed to heave herself and him out of the whole after some more digging, and once there draped his arm over her shoulder and helped him get upstairs.
"Thank you." He murmured as she supported him when he slipped and nearly fell back down the stairs. She carried on half dragging half carrying him.
"No problem.' She said gently, finally getting him out into the living room. She pulled him over to a sofa and laid him down gently. "I'm going to go get a first aid kit." She said. "Hold on."
"Wait..." He whispered grabbing her arm. She turned to him. "D-Don't..." He didn't know how to finish and she smiled sadly, kneeling down by him.
"I'm going, across the room to that cabinet." She pointed. "You can watch me all the way." She sighed, surveying his wounds once again. This was going to hurt him terribly if he were awake... "Why don't you have some rest while I fix you up?" He stared at her, as if trying to evaluate if she were telling the truth, reading her mind before he'd let her go. His hand reluctantly dropped from her wrist, slipping and hanging limply.
"I can't sleep." He mumbled tensing as if anticipating the pain. "Haven't eaten in so long... What year are you?" Cara studied him then as if making a very difficult decision, whether to trust him or not.
"Year 2009." She said before rolling her left sleeve up to the middle of her biceps and holding the crook of her elbow out. "Drink, then." He stared, horrified and repulsed but also desperately and longingly.

"Year 2009?!" He said horrified. B-But that's over...300 years..." She nodded.
"It is." She agreed. "We can talk more later, when you are rested and well. Please, drink." He turned his head away slightly.
"I can't..." He whispered. "It'll hurt..."
"Don't worry." Cara said. "Don't worry about me, OK? It's going to be awfully painful for you if you are awake through this, you've got an awful lot of nasty wounds. Just take what you need to sleep, so you can at least not have to put up with the pain of the procedures." He looked disgusted with himself but before she could tempt him again he had all but fallen on her, tearing into the skin in a none to gentle way that made her flinch in pain and fight her every instinct not to recoil and pull away. He needed this desperately, she could see that in his face, how ill his incarceration had made him, and she could feel it from the sheer desperation he was sucking her blood, gulping it down. She fought against her light-headedness gripping her knee slightly and 5 minutes later he'd stopped. She slowly regained her hold on her senses and the world, downing a glass of water to replenish her fluids, and when she glanced over at him he was staring at her with weary eyes, looking extremely vulnerable, in pain and alone, but also pathetically grateful. It made her breath hitch to see such a proud creature of a race she had spent half her teenage years fighting for their rights, such a regal figure so torn and beaten and harmed.
"Thank you." He murmured again as his eyes slid closed. She realised with horror that if he had been unable to sleep due to huger for the past 300 years he would have been wide awake, unable to rest and only able to hear the comings and goings of people above him, trying to reach out for them to help him as he had with her, and 300 years of pure rejection every time, and having to be awake through every single minute.
"It's not a problem." She assured, although he had already drifted off into a deep, heavy sleep. The sun had begun rising, so she closed the thick heavy curtains to prevent any more harm coming to him, then stood up shakily and got the first aid kit. Clean up job had begun.