I had never expected the toll Dr. Van der Zanden's stay would take so much out of Anna and I, though Dante looked considerably better and was actually eating solid food by the end of the week.

Anna seemed a bit embarrassed that her brass-tacks effort hadn't been terribly effective, but amid the shouts of rage and verbal assaults towards me, the Doctor kindly thanked her for her efforts and admitted that, had it not been for her, Dante would be 'a damned, cursed monster'.

I was somewhat relieved, and rather proud of her, and myself for putting her up to it. In retrospect, I understood why I had defended Dante and Anna from Dr. Van der Zanden so fiercely; they really, truly were now a part of my family, my clan, and I loved them accordingly.

However, Dr. Van der Zanden and I waged a constant and very vocal war. I had lost all traces of patience with him long ago, and was proud and foolish enough to not back down. He seemed to get great joy out of baiting me, and it was wearing me out, emotionally and physically, and obviously nibbling at Anna's already volatile personality. I found myself fully worn-out at the end of each day, not physically as much as emotionally, though the lack of human blood was a contributing factor to my increasingly ill health.

Vampires, like the Living, do have dreams when they sleep, in fact, our slumber is not too much unlike the sleep of the Living, save for the fact that we don't move when we sleep, nor do we, thankfully, snore.

My dreams were restless and erratic, causing distress when I awoke. I always felt a darkness in them that I could only identify as the Count. It seemed to be fleeing from me, yet still clinging just beyond my reach at times, but at other times the darkness was demonic and pursuant, and I was running, risking being consumed by it.
Oftentimes I requested, demanded, or begged for answers, he always evaded me. But now, weaving in and out of my dreams were a menagerie of characters that bore the faces of my friends and comrades, but not their names.

One night, not two weeks after Dr. Van der Zanden's arrival, I had a dream, so vivid it was as if I were awake.

Unlike most dreams, everything was tangible: I could taste food, feel trivial pain, touch gently, feel the warmth of someone's hand. It was as if I was alive again. I found myself riding horseback over the pass of a vast mountain rage draped in deep green with jagged, grey rocks cutting out of the fertile ground, seeming to clamor over one another to reach the endless sky. The weather was growing ill fast, despite the time of year, a flew snowflakes blowing past in the high mountain air. There were trees all around me as myself and countless others descended into a deep sweeping valley, a large, gothic castle jutting up from the valley floor, barely visible among the trees.

Relief spread through me as we drew nearer to the castle compound; I was coming home.

But something was wrong; There was no one to meet us.

I spurred my horse ahead of my men, a loud, masculine shout emanating from my mouth as I charged forward on the road, coming into a broad, smooth green that composed the castle lawn. Ahead of me were multiple large, open pits pocking the breathtaking landscape, smoke curling skyward from the gaping holes.
The wind was strong and cold as I stared down into one of the ghastly pits. The scent of blood curled around me as it mingled with the growing scent of rain above the smell of the smoldering bodies.

It was getting dark fast, black rain clouds ripping across the sky. I stepped closer to the pit, my stomach lurching as I looked down inside, my scarlet wool cloak billowing around me in the humid breeze.

The pit was full of bodies, brimming with the buzzing of flies and the putrid stench of decay. I felt rage and anger as I came closer, recognizing the putrefying body impaled on the pike beside it.

Father…

I knew by now this wasn't just a dream, and it wasn't my dream: the man on the pike: while he had betrayed me at one point or another, he was my father…

Panic set in, and I looked back, my troops scant in comparison to the heaped dead.

A heavy rain began to fall and one of the men approached, addressing me in a rustically lyrical foreign tongue as the rains saturated my clothing, running off of my heavy armor.

I heard the word 'brother' and came running as some of my men uncovered a new grave.

Inside lay a man but a few years older than myself, a metal plate embedded where his eyes should be, burned onto his flesh until it held fast. Dried blood and dirt collected on his pale face; his lips softly tinted blue.

I felt my chest heave and I fell to my knees. My brother was dead, blinded and buried alive.

As tears of anger and sadness filled my eyes and I pounded a fist into the ground, the grass indenting beneath my armored fist.

Godless monsters, every one of them. They shouldn't have attacked my family; they should have focused on driving them out; the Turks…we could settle these land disputes once those heathens were gone!

I rose, turning to my men, my eyes blurred with tears and rain at I looked at each of them in turn.

"Gather the survivors." I spoke in that same beautifully rustic language, able to understand what I said, but only just so.

It was now I realized who I was: I was the Count in his youth.

I walked over to my horse, placing one hand in the stiff brown hair, looking up into it's ebony eyes. It jerked it's head back, it's bridle swinging down within my grasp.
I mounted, swinging my leg over and settling in the hard leather of the saddle, glancing down at the men beneath me, who were still staring up at me with their dark, almond eyes.

It was then I knew the ultimate betrayal: A spear at the ready, piercing my armor as my men looked on, their swords ready for my flesh.

Instinct kicked in and I spurred my horse, charging above the advancing fray, the spear still pushing itself deep into my ribs, the pain unimaginable.
But I had to persevere, for my people, for the very people who betrayed me, I had to survive.

My horse stumbled, but I pushed forward, using my cloak to deflect arrows.

My unfortunate horse was taking the most blows, stumbling past the fray. They were trying to cut down my mount to get to me.

By some miracle, I got through the blockade, the rain beating my face and armor as my horse forced itself across the deceptively beautiful Wallachian landscape.
I didn't stop until night had fallen heavily on the jagged landscape, my horse breathing heavily, it's side covered in blood from the arrows that penetrated it's strong flesh. The wolves were howling all around us, and I myself was heavily wounded. There was no way I was going to survive the night with my injuries.

I felt like crying, my heart full of the poisonous betrayal as I dismounted to further examine my wounds, but alas, the Count's eyes willed no tears. The moment I got off, my horse stumbled and fell, laying motionless on the forest floor.

It must have been going off of sheer adrenaline, and finally died when we stopped.

The wolves were coming closer; the hunter side of my Master coming through. It was now down between the wolves and he.

It was only now that I understood: I was about to witness The Count's creation. Chills ran down my spine as I followed the dream deeper into the trees, desperation setting in as his wounds opened wider, his armor covered in thick, crimson blood.

Something large flew overhead, and the I ducked, leaning against a tree as pain spread through my body: I had left the head of the spear inside me, breaking it off at the end.

I could tell her knew he was going to die, but I had to admire him for fighting. Unlike me, he wasn't going to give up, though his family was dead, his friends betrayed him.

He stumbled along, grasping his sword when he saw a clearing up ahead, filled with a strange and eerie blue-white light.

My armored feet sank into a marsh, the water quickly filling my good leather boots. I could see a woman sitting on a rock across the wide pond and I called out to her, startled that she didn't flee. Her entire visage was strange; her clothing of the highest fashion, all in immaculate white. Her long, dark curls were swept away from her oh-so-lovely face, her black eyebrows arching delicately over a pair of crimson eyes that glowed like embers in the dim light.

It seemed as if a beam of moonlight was shining down from the heavens, casting light on her loveliness, but heavy clouds still clung to the tree line.
A wolf howled nearby; they had discovered the horse. I felt a tinge of remorse for letting it die in such a grotesque way; it had served me more loyally than my men had.

The woman stood, the white wolf-fur that lined her dress and her kokoshnik positively glowing in the inexplicable light as she reached a delicate hand towards me.
"Come, Prince Dracula. I can give you what you seek, if you will just come to me." she said, her voice strong and beautiful, like a deep, magical music that filled the clearing.

I wiped the blood out of my eyes, fear seizing me. She was a demon, she had to be!

"Your men betrayed you, your kingdom fled…" Without making a sound she was beside me, the bog barely indenting as her silver slippers touched the moss, the great train of her lavish dress laying a shimmering wake across the darkened green. She was the source of the light. She couldn't have been a devil; devils are foul…she must have been…from God…

"I can bring it all back to you…you just give me one thing, Prince Dracula…"

The taiga around me shifted, seeming to melt away beneath my feet. I wanted to know what happened, but instead I found myself staring at the sky at the dawn crept slowly over the horizon, painting the sky shades of crimson, orange and grey.

There was a familiar, searing pain in my neck, though it was the only pain I'd felt. The woman stood beside me, now draped in a brown cloak. Behind me stood more than a thousand men, their stench rising to meet me over the soft morning breeze. They were ghouls; nothing but animated corpses, ruined vampires.

"These men will not betray you, as I am certain you will not betray me. In four hundred and fifty four years, I will return to take my price." The woman said thickly, looking at me through those dark lashes, a serene and almost sly smile curving her ruby lips. I nodded, a chill of fear striking me as the dawn spread across the sky, illumination the town below. I knew this feeling: his heart was slowing to a stop.

In an instant, she was gone. The wind picked up, the scent of fire spreading through the air.

I looked over at my horse, it's sharpened teeth bared as it pawed one bloody hoof at the ground impatiently.

It wanted blood. We all wanted blood. The wound in my neck made me thirst for it.

I leapt up into the horses back, pike in hand, turning to my troops and addressing them. They stood in rapt silence, waiting for the final word, waiting for the command to strike, a thousand pikes trembling with want for blood.

A sort of terror-filled adrenaline coursed through me, my body shaking with laughter as I ordered them to slaughter, watching them flood down around me like a tidal wave of black and crimson.

Horror filled my being, but the Count was undeterred. How could he order the slaughter of so many? So many innocents? It went against everything that he taught me, his words ringing in my ears "Take what you need, nothing more."

I heard a voice softly calling my name, my real name, a soft Romanian intonation permeating the gentle male voice. The same voice I had heard order the murder of countless lives.

I opened my eyes, fear gripping me as I realized I was laying, my eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling of my dormitory. My eyelashes were crusted with crystals of blood, making small, orange orbs appear in my peripheral vision.

I felt someone else there in the room with me, over and above the other girls, who were sighing and snoring softly in their sleep, safe and sound behind their green draperies.

Unable to move, I felt two long, thin fingers on my chest, keeping me back without any real resistance.

"Are you angry with me?" I felt long fingers close over my mouth, the soft hissing sound of being hushed permeating the air. "Don't scream."

I stared up into a face I had only seen in Dumbledore's memory, a face that belonged to no one I cared for, but the voice was unmistakable.

"Are you angry." the man repeated, removing his hand from my mouth. "For what I have done."

I opened my mouth to reply, my voice lost in my throat.

"Master…I'm not…" I breathed, unable to remove my eyes from that beautiful face. "Is this a dream?"

I could feel my blood collecting to my head, making me dizzy and uncomfortable as I lay there. It didn't feel like a dream, but it was too strange to be anything but, even by my standards.

"Yes." I felt him sit down beside me. I was afraid to move, to make this all vanish. I felt a small degree of disappointment as he used his thumb to wipe the dried tears away from my eyes. "It's a half dream. You are both awake and asleep."

I blinked, an uncomfortable floating feeling taking over my body; it felt like I was slowly sliding to the foot of my bed.

"You're angry and hurt. I can see in your mind and your heart." He touched my chest gently, placing his hand on the flesh above my breasts. "You can't deceive me, you never could" The Count replied, brushing strands of hair away form my shoulders, his fingers catching on the soft white cotton of my nightgown.

"I don't…" I found myself spluttering my lack of understanding, watching the smooth, porcelain face. "Are you alive?"

"No..." He said softly, his voice so soft and sweet that it brought a lump to my throat. "I exist now as a Stealer: a life without a body…I come when people sleep and take their bodies. They become me for a few hours, then I let them go."

"I don't understand…" I tried sitting up, but the Count held me back. "If you… if you just held on to their bodies…"

"They would die." he said softly. "I've taken more than my share of lives…as She was so kind as to show you."

"She?"

"Lillith." He said, his voice carrying a tone of bitterness. "She's after me…Don't wake up, not yet. If you wake up, you and I can't communicate, and I don't know when I'll have a chance to come back…she's watching you, watching your dreams…"

My brain didn't filly process where I'd heard that name before: Lillith? It seemed it had something to do with Dante...

"Why have you taken this long?" I whispered, not daring to raise my voice any higher then a breathy whisper. He leaned down, kissing my forehead, wiry black hair sweeping across my skin. I felt a chill in the darkness, his body unnaturally skeletal and frail, as if it would snap at any second.

"Please forgive me." He whispered softly, pressing his forehead against mine. "All will be explained in due time, but when one breaks a Faustian Bargain , the devil is not so kind as to forgive. I came as soon as I was strong enough." His crimson eyes looked into mine, the iris's glowing like ambers in the darkness. I felt understanding flowing through my foggy brain, something I had to write down when I woke up, it was deathly important.

"I don't understand why you are alive…The Death Eater's killed…"

"They killed my body. You must know vampires can go neither to heaven nor hell when they die…"

My heat was buzzing dully. I was waking up, as much as I tried to will myself back to sleep: five more minutes, five more minutes with the Count…

The Count pulled away slightly, his face strained. He knew I was waking up…

There were so many questions running through my mind, my lips lacking the will to move and my tongue betraying itself.

"I like your Annabelle. She is well suited for the task you have assigned to her. I have only met one more clever than she, and only just so. I am certain Dr. Van Helsing himself would be impressed with her prowess. You two are right for one another…"

"Are you the one who bit Dante?"

The room was uncomfortably silent for a long time as his crimson eyes looked anywhere but into mine.

"Integra, there is an Iadul Contractului afoot. Dante is, unfortunately, the human sacrifice, and that is why you must do everything within your power to protect him, to make sure that if he does turn into a full vampire, you kill him before anyone else has a chance to."

I closed my eyes to shut out the thought of having to kill Dante, but the Count remained by my side, his weight barely shifting the bed. He was definitely there. This wasn't a dream, my face becoming thoroughly soaked with blood as more and more tears streamed down my cheeks.

I broke down into sobs, curling against his side, his bony hand on my back. "I can't kill him, I just can't…"

"Integra, my love…"

One of the girls stirred in her sleep, and the Count faltered slightly, glancing over. I could see that he was mostly mist in the darkness, not fully recomposed due to his health. He was fading fast, even now it was taking a great deal of energy to appear. Had it really taken him thirteen years to heal to this extent?

"Integra, you know I will be here in spirit, if I can't in body. I will be the hand that serves you, though you may not understand how, or why...Just get stronger, for me."

"I don't understand."

He shook his head, leaning in for another kiss. "Things are already in motion, what is happening to you us not unusual around the world. They are beginning to round up all the vampires and dispose of them, all to thwart Her. There are a few of the true Methuselah who are surviving the Great Pyres, or evading them altogether. The Living are making haste, but you and I will have to wars to fight in the end…She cannot prevail."

Movement from the end of the dormitory made him drop his voce into a whisper that only he and I could hear. "I have to go… remember that I love you…regardless of what is said…Frumoasa mea dragoste."

"Wait, don't go!" I cried, sitting up as the mist vanished from around me, swirling up into the vast darkness of the endless ceiling.

I found myself covered in blood, my mouth open and a sharp pain surging through my neck, making my fingertips twitch. I let out a whimper, the wound in my neck torn anew. It hadn't been a dream…I don't know if he had been here or not, but I knew that whatever had been there had taken my blood.

"Shut up, Black!" I heard one of the girls call, throwing a pillow at my bed.

It hit the green velvet curtain and slid down, and I fell back against the bed in frustration. I felt deeply disturbed and I got up finally, my arms feeling hot with frustration. I changed out of my blood-soaked clothing before leaving the girls dormitory in a fit of irritation. I needed to think, and to feed.

XxX

I thought heavily upon my conversation with The Count, writing it down as well as I could recall in the notebook that Anna had lent me, though I didn't tell her verbally about it until much later.

I dwelled on it until I was put in an ill mood that was only matched by Anna's, though hers was caused by Dr. Van der Zanden's insistence that anyone who associates with vampires is very nearly as bad as a vampire itself.

"How to you live with this bigotry?" Anna seethed one afternoon in February, slamming the infirmary door behind her. "Is it like this very often for you?"

"Oh, he's a bit of an extremist, being an Illuminati and all. Most people aren't so vocal about it." I sighed, wiping my hand on my robes. Moments before, the good doctor had doused us both with a vial of Holy Water and told us to get out of the infirmary. Anna had taken most of it, but some of it remained on my hands, leaving a burning, tingling sensation it it's wake. It wasn't particularly painful, just annoying. Anna looked more angry than I did, though.

"He is our friend, why shouldn't we be able to see him?"

"Because I'm a vampire, and he's suffering from vampirism?" I muttered dryly, picking at a loose thread on my book bag. "It's guilt by association. He really doesn't care who or what you are. You're going to hell."

I had never seen or heard Anna laugh so hard before. It was positively maniacal, her body twisting slightly as she threw her head back and laughed. I couldn't help but laugh slightly as well, causing a few timid looking first-years to divert their course in order to avoid us.

"It's true, I am going to Hell." Anna laughed, shifting her bag. And as she walked away to her class, I couldn't help but frown. She wasn't the first Living person that had openly admitted they were going to hell, but she was certainly the most exemplary of who shouldn't.

Within weeks, Dante was well enough to walk around the infirmary, though he was a great deal thinner than when I had met him, and he shook slightly when he walked, leaning heavily on a cane, but his face was bright with glee at his newly regained freedom.

Thankfully, this made it more difficult for Dr. Van der Zanden to keep an eye on him, which gave Anna and I more opportunities to speak to him without the doctors influence.

We kept the conversations light-hearted, never daring to cross into darker, more serious matters like we had before. The truth was, Anna and I were not as trusting of Dante was we once were, Dr. Van der Zanden having no doubt poisoned his mind.

I spoke to him briefly about how he felt about becoming a vampire, but assured him that the chances of this were slim due to recovery. He seemed torn between relief and curiosity to why I would suggest that he still could become a vampire, however, when he asked, I simply shook my head and dismissed it as paranoia on my part.

Dante seemed to be making a full recovery, being the same sprightly young man I had met in Italy, though he seemed slightly happier here, though he now walked only with the help of a cane despite his youth. Many of Hogwarts female students didn't mind, though.

XxX

A/n: I hate the dream sequence in this. I really do. I wrote it three times before I felt comfortable enough with what Lillith was showing her, and even so, I'm not sure about it.

I drew from Romanian history folklore as much as I could as far the dream goes, and I based the Count off of Vlad Tepes, who's father and brother, were, in fact, slaughtered by the Boyars. His older brother's manner of death, from what I've read, is accurate. I wouldn't make something like that up.

I had a bit of a hard time with folklore on this one. As 'known' as Romanian folklore is, it's hard to document...