#takes them leaves the urn and gravestone and then just has the bodies to do whatever with. WHATS HE DOING !!! is it a nice like Ill just

[nomairuins]

i wish there was a way for me to likeee. semi change this one thingin this one mod. but 1 im not a modder 2 i feel like thats disrespectful. i just want sort of an inbetween between the game and this mod but that is not a thing that exist... sigh

[mcgrillzdumpinc]

Dreams, Inescapable

Summary: At Nie Mingjue's funeral, Nie Huaisang receives an antique camera.  That night, he begins to have a strange dream, one which repeats every night.  Each morning, he wakes with a new scar on his body.  Can he escape the dream before he dies? Written for SangCheng Month day 12 - Scars!

ao3 link

Pairing: Sangcheng Rating: M Warnings: Body horror, references to violent deaths, survivor guilt, mentions of seizures Word count: 3429

As Nie Huaisang sits in the parlor room, it occurs to him that he is alone.  He watches distant family and friends walk about, talking in hushed tones and looking everywhere but him, and he remembers his father—dead at thirty-nine from a brain aneurysm.  His birth mother, taken by surgical complications.  His other mother, who left the family with the death of her husband. And now his brother, a car accident wrought by Nie Huaisang’s own carelessness.

He looks down at his leg in a cast and realizes he’s alone.  Nobody left to blame or to love.  Just him.

Soon there will be arguments about inheritance. Greedy cousins will hem and haw about Nie Mingjue’s will and who, exactly, deserves to receive what.  Nie Huaisang already has arguments and defenses for every attack, like the born strategist his father claimed him to be, but as he breathes back a sob, he wishes he did not have to have them.

~~~

Among Nie Mingjue’s possessions is an antique camera. It’s a strange thing, with seal script inscribed around the lens.  The bellows are made with a well-worn black leather and the metal holding the whole thing together is an oxidized bronze.  To Nie Huaisang’s relief, nobody tries to stake a claim on the camera—it’s hard enough to justify keeping his father’s land holdings, how silly would he look trying to keep a camera, as well?

As the barely-civilized discussion continues, Nie Huaisang eventually brings the camera to sit on his thighs.  It’s heavy, but the weight reminds him of his brother, of the times he would joke around and try to sit in Nie Huaisang’s lap.  It allows him at least a small bit of warmth as he faces an otherwise bitter family.

~~~

Lan Xichen and Meng Yao are the last ones to leave, in the end.  Much to Nie Huaisang’s gratefulness, they help him back to his house, carrying in Nie Mingjue’s urn, the camera, and Nie Huaisang’s personal items as the man in question hobbles in.  Meng Yao makes them a warm stew while Lan Xichen helps Nie Huaisang out of his mourning clothes.

The three sit down for dinner.  Nie Huaisang is quick to compliment Meng Yao’s cooking—“San-ge, really, you should open a restaurant, you’d rake in so much money!”

Meng Yao laughs and refuses.  “I only know three recipes, Huaisang!  What kind of restaurant would that be?”

“Family style!” Nie Huaisang retorts.  “And you could learn more recipes!  Turn three into ten and you’ll have so many customers!”

Lan Xichen chuckles to himself.  “Would you help him, then, Huaisang?”

“I’ll do PR.  Run the Instagram!”

Meng Yao scoffs with humor and places his spoon down.  The stew sits half-finished in his bowl.  “This is nice,” he comments.  “I didn’t think we would be able to laugh so soon—”

“Don’t,” Nie Huaisang interjects, a warning.  As Lan Xichen says his name with a plea, Nie Huaisang slaps the table.  “We’re not letting go of him so easily!”

“Huaisang, that’s not—” Lan Xichen tries.

“Not what you’re doing?” Nie Huaisang asks as he meets Lan Xichen’s eyes and wills for him to understand, in totality, the way his heart is beating now.  Even though it is racing, it seems to only be doing half the work.  “My brother has only been gone a few days!  Why are you already trying to forget him?!”

“As if we could!” Meng Yao shouts.  The sudden noise from an otherwise quiet man forces Nie Huaisang to focus.  “Nie Mingjue was our closest friend, Huaisang.  We could not forget him for the rest of our lives.  But we must be ready to move on.”

Nie Huaisang’s voice breaks as he says, “So soon?”

Meng Yao looks down at his bowl as he replies, “We all must take our time.”

The evasiveness prickles Nie Huaisang’s already-struggling heart.  With a loud sniff, he stands on his crutch and hurries back to his room.

In about an hour, Lan Xichen and Meng Yao leave. Nie Huaisang hears them clean up before spending some time conversing downstairs.  He cannot hear a word they say, but he knows it must all be about him and his brother.  Before he can work up the nerve to go talk to them again, though, he hears them walk out the front door, locking up behind them.  And in the darkness of his family home, Nie Huaisang is alone again.

~~~

He is cold.  As the light filters into his eyes, Nie Huaisang cannot think past the chill that envelops his skin and dares to breach to his bones.  He looks around, desperate for a blanket or a jacket, and instead realizes he’s in a garden, with the walls of an old-fashioned house on all sides.  But instead of flowers, the garden is littered with gravestones, all topped off with snow.  Most of the names have worn away, but he can still make out a few.

‘Wei Wuxian’.  ‘Jiang Yanli’.  ‘Yu Ziyuan’. ‘Jiang Fengmian’.

Nie Huaisang approaches the grave titled Wei Wuxian, but soon he hears a noise, like the thud of a foot on wooden boards.  He startles and looks towards the sound and—there—

“Da-ge?!”

His brother is walking up the steps to enter the house via the northern wall.  Nie Huaisang can only see his back, but he knows without doubt that it is his brother.

“Da-ge!” he shouts as he breaks into a run.  “Da-ge, wait!”

His brother, though, does not wait.  He opens the door and walks into the house.  Nie Huaisang, somehow unable to catch up to him, calls after him again.  Nie Mingjue doesn’t answer.  He disappears into the darkness of the unlit house.

Nie Huaisang passes the threshold.  Warmth immediately encases him.  On the air wafts the smell of pork and lotus.  As he looks around, he soon realizes his right leg is no longer kept bound in a cast.  Rather, he is dressed in clothes that were ruined the night that—

Nie Huaisang gasps.  At his feet is the strange camera Nie Mingjue left behind.  As he picks it up, distant humming flows into his ear.  He looks in its direction, then towards the way he saw Nie Mingjue go.  Deciding it better to follow an actual lead, he takes a step towards the humming.

Nie Huaisang wakes up.  In the comfort of his own bedroom, his right leg aches fiercely.

~~~

He receives a call from Meng Yao later in the afternoon. Haltingly, with the idea of apologies at the back of his head, he tells his long-time friend of his dream.  The winter garden, the gravestones, Nie Mingjue, and the camera.  Meng Yao mutters to himself and takes a long while before answering.

“I think I’ve heard of something similar.  I’ll look into it.”  In the background of Meng Yao’s end, Nie Huaisang hears Jin Zixuan curse over something.

“You make it sound like something serious,” Nie Huaisang says instead of inquiring after Meng Yao’s half-brother.

“It might be,” Meng Yao answers honestly.  “I know a lot of stories.”

From his mother, Nie Huaisang remembers.  She invested a lot into ghost tales and superstitions and the like, especially in the years preceding her death.  Meng Yao doesn’t speak of her often, but Nie Huaisang knows she pressed much of her beliefs and way of life onto her son.  In all honesty, it is a part of Meng Yao that Nie Huaisang likes a lot, since it makes the otherwise vigilant man sincere and cheerful.  So Nie Huaisang is willing to entertain any silly superstition Meng Yao finds about his dream if it’ll keep his friend’s mind at ease.

“Okay, don’t hesitate to call if you find something. And, uh, san-ge…”

When Nie Huaisang takes too long to continue, Meng Yao says, “Yes?”

“I’m sorry,” Nie Huaisang manages.  “About last night.  I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

He can hear the sad smile in Meng Yao’s voice as he replies, “Think nothing of it, Huaisang.  I know what you’re going through.  I know you blame yourself—”

“Goodbye, san-ge.  I’ll call you tomorrow,” Nie Huaisang interrupts.  Without waiting for a response, he hangs up.

~~~

He’s at the threshold again.  Winter chill gnaws at his back while the warmth of the house protects the rest of him.  In his hands is the camera and in his ears is the humming.  Nie Huaisang closes the door and walks towards the sound.

The house is more comparable to a mansion.  It takes Nie Huaisang a while to find the humming’s source.  Eventually, though, he finds another garden.  Unlike the place with the gravestones, this spot is warm and smells of flowers. It is springtime here, he realizes. He steps into the warmth and admires the koi pond displayed in the center walkway.  As his gaze travels, he realizes there is a young girl sitting on the exact opposite side of Nie Huaisang.

He approaches, careful not to startle her. When she notices him, she stops humming but does not run away.  He is able to come up and kneel next to her.  She is dressed in lilac and dark purple hanfu, delicately embroidered with depictions of jumping carp and lotus flowers.  He notices a gash up her left leg that ends at the knee.  It is still bleeding, but she doesn’t seem at all bothered by it.

“Hello,” he begins, “I’m Nie Huaisang.  What’s your name, young miss?”

She scrunches her nose.  “I’m a boy!” he corrects.

“Ah, my apologies.”  Nie Huaisang offers a smile.  He knows what it’s like to realize your true gender so early on.  “Young master, what is your name?”

“…..Jiang Cheng,” the boy replies.  “What’s with your camera?”

“Oh, this?”  Nie Huaisang brings up the camera.  “It’s a gift from my brother.  What happened to your leg?”

Jiang Cheng frowns.  It’s adorable how grumpy such a young face can appear.  “I fell.  Wei Wuxian pushed me.  I’m waiting for jiejie to return with bandages.”

Nie Huaisang remembers the gravestones.  He wonders if this young boy is dead, too.  “Would you like for me to wait with you?”

Before Jiang Cheng can answer, the door behind them opens with a loud slam.  Nie Huaisang looks up, half-expecting his brother, but at the threshold is a man dressed like a priest.  But his clothes are torn and tattered, blood drenched and covered in mud.  His body—Nie Huaisang can barely see his body, for it is littered with scars and shredded flesh.  His hair has been pulled out from the scalp, leaving only chunks of various lengths and sizes.  As he glares at Nie Huaisang, he does it with only one good eye, since there is not a second one in its socket.

“Get out!” the man roars.  “Leave this place!”

Nie Huaisang acts on instinct.  He holds up the camera and takes a picture.

The man—the ghost—reels back, reacting in pain.  Nie Huaisang takes another picture.  The ghost howls.  Nie Huaisang takes more pictures.  But each time he does, it is as though the ghost grows immune, for soon it is charging on him and nothing is working.  Before Nie Huaisang can finally think to run, the ghost reaches out and pushes him on the chest.

Nie Huaisang wakes up.  While he tries to catch his breath, a searing pain suddenly shoots up his left leg.  Looking at it for damage, he watches as his skin steadily puckers, collapsing and molding into a scar that ends at the knee.

Nie Huaisang screams.

~~~

“The camera?”

Nie Huaisang bites on his thumb nail as he responds to Lan Xichen.  “Yeah. Do you know anything about that vintage camera da-ge had?”

“I think I do.  I remember him showing it to me when we were children.”  Something clatters in the background of Lan Xichen’s end. Nie Huaisang hears Lan Wangji’s voice follow.  “Yes, brother, I will be careful.  I know how to chop a carrot.”

Nie Huaisang winces.  He hopes Lan Wangji has the first-aid kit nearby.

“Mingjue told me it was from his grandfather,” Lan Xichen continues.  “He brought it over from Japan.  It supposedly allows the user to see ghosts.”

“Did it work?” Nie Huaisang asks, doing his best not to think of the mutilated man.

“No.  We went to a few places around the town, but we never saw anything with the camera.  I have a few of the pictures we took of ourselves, though, if you would like them.”

Nie Huaisang looks down at the vintage camera on his desk, at the photos of the mutilated man he developed from the camera roll.  “No, it’s okay, er-ge.  You can keep them.”

“While we’re on the topic of Mingjue…can I ask you something, Huaisang?”

Nie Huaisang takes in a shuddering breath. He knows what’s coming.  “Yes, go ahead.”

“Do you still blame yourself for the accident?”

Nie Huaisang resists the sudden urge to break his phone.  He breathes in.  Breathes out. “I wasn’t looking at the road, er-ge.”

“Mingjue was having a seizure, Huaisang.  It was the first time it happened while you were driving, right?”

“It wasn’t his first seizure!” Nie Huaisang shouts. “I—I know how to handle them.  I was just pulling him away from the window—”

“I know, Huaisang,” Lan Xichen says, his voice unbearably soft.  “It’s not your fault.”

Nie Huaisang hangs up.

~~~

Every night, Nie Huaisang finds himself in the mansion.  He always starts by the graveyard.  As he travels, he finds out more about this place.  If it was ever real, then it once housed the Jiang family and several subsidiary clans. At the head were Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan.  In their small village, surrounded by sprawling families, the two were tasked with keeping peace.  Their village was threatened by the Rift, the space between life and death, that would sometimes break and cause the once-dead to roam the village.  Only the actions of the Jiang could ensure the Rift remained closed and the undead remained quarantined away.

And oh, what actions they were.  As Nie Huaisang tours the mansion, trying desperately to find a permanent way out of this dream, he spots many ghosts.  A man dressed in black and red with his heart pulled directly from his chest.  A young woman with her back cut open.  An older woman whose cries ring through Nie Huaisang’s mind and nearly drive him mad. An older man who never attacks Nie Huaisang, only wanders the halls aimlessly.  In time, with the help of diary entries and a photo album, Nie Huaisang learns who they are.

The heartless man, Wei Wuxian.  The open-back woman, Jiang Yanli.  The wailing woman, Yu Ziyuan.  The aimless man, Jiang Fengmian.

They failed to keep the Rift at bay.  They failed because of the youngest son, Jiang Cheng.

~~~

Jiang Yanli’s diary, entry five.

Tomorrow will be my ritual.  They will remove my golden core and feed it to the Rift.  As is the custom, the youngest will have to oversee the process to ensure I am not harmed.  I will have to be kept awake for two days so that the ritual will not fail.

I am scared, but not of losing my golden core. It is weak.  I do not think I will be much different without it.  I only hope Jiang Cheng will be okay.  He doesn’t like to see me in pain.

---

Jiang Yanli’s diary, entry six

I don’t know what to do.  I went to the Sacred Hall like I’m supposed to and the door was closed.  Locked. I couldn’t get in.  Nobody has the key besides Jiang Cheng.  I can’t find him anywhere.

This has to happen today.  I don’t know what to do.

---

Jiang Yanli’s diary, entry ten

Today it is Wei Wuxian’s ritual.  I’m scared Jiang Cheng won’t be able to see it through. My ritual allows me to survive, but…

We said our goodbyes to Wei Wuxian last night. I made Jiang Cheng promise not to interfere this time.  I hope all will go well.

---

Jiang Yanli’s diary, entry eleven

Mother, I’m sorry if I was not a good daughter. I always tried my best to do as you told me, but it seems I won’t be able to keep my promise to you this time. I will see you on the other side.

Father, in our next life, please be my father again. Let’s do better next time.  I will make sure everyone is happy.

Wei Wuxian, I cannot blame you.  Jiang Cheng is impossible to convince once he’s made up his mind.  You are my sweet didi.  I know you did everything you could.

Jiang Cheng, you did not want to see us suffer. You are the most loving man I have ever known.  When you come to your senses, please read this and know it was not your fault.  You were only trying to help.  You are the best brother I could have asked for.

~~~

Every time Nie Huaisang wakes from the dream, it is to a sharp pain in his body.  There is a new scar each time he looks in the mirror.  On his shoulder, across his stomach, on the back of his neck, against his thumb, over his chest.  He hisses when he realizes how raised and red some of them are, especially the one on his stomach.

On the day he receives a diagonal scar across the back of his left hand, Meng Yao finally calls Nie Huaisang about the dream. He says that several people have had similar dreams.  They wake to a wintery graveyard and see a deceased loved one enter a mansion.  If they follow the deceased, they begin waking every morning to scars on their body.  As the dream continues, they sleep for more and more time until, eventually, they do not wake at all.  All autopsy reports reveal they died of a heart attack.

Nie Huaisang thanks him and ends the call.  He looks out at the expanse of his bedroom from the comfort of his bed.  He cannot find the energy to get up.  He wonders if he should fight that.

~~~

One night, finally, Nie Huaisang finds himself face-to-face with the mutilated man again.  He is as fearsome as Nie Huaisang remembers.  But Nie Huaisang knows he can do this, he knows he can win.  He’s exorcised Wei Wuxian, Jiang Yanli, Yu Ziyuan, and Jiang Fengmian.  He’s exorcised the countless other spirits which roam these halls.  He can win against the mutilated man, as well.

“Get out!” the mutilated man screams.

“You get out!” Nie Huaisang shouts back lamely. “I won’t let you kill me, too.”

The mutilated man takes pause at that, his breath heavy.  “Save yourself, then.  Run away.”

Nie Huaisang clicks his tongue and forces his shaking hands to still.  He brings the viewfinder to his eye and—

And he sees a young man.  A beautiful young man in purple hanfu, delicately embroidered with depictions of jumping carp and lotus flowers.  He is smiling gently in the springtime, the wind blowing through his black hair.

Nie Huaisang gasps and brings the camera down. The mutilated man stares back at him.

“You’re… Jiang Cheng?”

The mutilated man, no, Jiang Cheng blinks at him. “Nobody has called me that for a long time.  Now go.”

“If I go then I’ll die to the curse, anyway,” Nie Huaisang readily tells him.  He pulls up the viewfinder again.  A muddy and bloody man stares back at him.

“I took my sister’s place, then my brother’s,” Jiang Cheng declares before Nie Huaisang can pull the trigger.  “I-I can take your place, too.”

“You know how to stop the curse?”

Jiang Cheng goes tellingly silent.

“You need another person, don’t you?  That’s what this dream is for, isn’t it?”  Jiang Cheng snarls, but Nie Huaisang soldiers on. “It’s a two-part ritual!  You—you can’t close the Rift by yourself.”

“I would not ask that of a stranger!”

“Then who would you ask it of?” Nie Huaisang shouts. “I saw the spirits of your family! Either I end you and end the curse, or you find somebody to do the second ritual again!  You’re alone, Jiang Cheng, you’re—”  Then it occurs to him, as he stands in this dreary mansion, that he is no different than the ghost before him.  He thinks of Lan Xichen and Meng Yao and the families they still have. He thinks of Nie Mingjue.  He thinks of the car crash.  He thinks of a young man smiling brightly in the springtime.

Nie Huaisang drops the camera.

[flutteringphalanges]

                                         Mirabile Visu

Summary: Sister Agatha Van Helsing discovers she’s in over her head when a competitive game of chess ultimately results in her becoming pregnant with the child of her worst enemy, Count Dracula. Now tied by a bond deeper than blood, the two must learn to coexist and adapt in a world that could be potentially hostile towards their offspring. Parenthood has never looked so batty.

Characters: Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing

Chapter: 14/15 (technically it’s chapter 13/14 since there was a two part chapter, but you get the idea)

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N:   Thank you so much for your support and amazing feedback! It truly means the world! Oh my gosh, guys, we are so close to the end! Next chapter is the final one. The epilogue! I can’t believe it! I’m both excited and sad! Also to clarify, Jack refers to Sorina jokingly as “Van Helsing” because it’s the last name she’s used for nearly all her life--since she grew up with Agatha’s family. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! I’d love to know your thoughts! I hope you enjoy! -Jen

                                           Chapter Thirteen

                                        Larpool Lane Cemetery

                                                  Present Time

Dental records. That's how far gone Zoe's body was when the coroner went to finally identify her. She felt horrible for thinking so, but Sorina was glad she didn't have to identify the remains. That would've been a task the halfling might've not been ready for. But they purchased a beautiful urn-purple, Zoe's favorite color-and bought a plot of land in the graveyard. A nice place that looked towards the trees. She would've liked that. And a simple, granite gravestone engraved with her name, date of birth and death, along with the words Beloved Aunt and Niece. Nothing fancy. Nothing that stood out. Simple. Like Zoe.

"I'm not leaving those stupid fabric flowers, Zoe deserves better."

Sorina stood over the tombstone, her eyes red as she clutched a bouquet of freshly cut daffodils in her right hand. Somehow, she had refrained from crying, but it was obvious that she was close to doing so. On either side of her, her parents stood. Agatha wore a black dress, something she had pulled from Zoe's closet. She felt a little guilty for wearing something that belonged to her late, great, great niece, but Sorina was fine with it. Dracula seemed rather distant as he stood close to his daughter, almost as if he was trying to listen out for something.

"Leave them, we can always replace them with more if the caretakers remove them."

Jack met Sorina's gaze, his mouth forming a small, encouraging smile. Since Zoe's death, he hadn't really left her side. While Dracula's and Agatha's home was in the remodeling process after The Foundation had damaged it, the four of them had been staying in what was now technically Sorina's home. She hadn't decided whether or not she wanted to sell it. From what any of them could gather, the halfing had yet to step foot into her aunt's room. He wasn't sure how long it would take before she had it in her to do so.

"I know this isn't exactly the ideal funeral." Agatha began, one hand absentmindedly resting on her still flat stomach. "But I'd like to say a few words, if that would be alright with you, Sorina?"

Her daughter nodded, clutching the flowers to her chest.

"I didn't know Zoe for very long. Only a few days, in fact. But I know how important she was to you and how she impacted your life as much as she did. You both had each other since her birth. She grew up around you and you, in a sense, around her. As a mother-your mother, it does my heart good knowing that someone was there to care for you, to love you, while your father and I were gone. I'll never be able to properly thank her for that. I'll still say it. Zoe, I am, and will always be, eternally grateful for everything you've ever done for my daughter. I wish I could have known you better, but I am glad we met. Even though it wasn't for very long."

Agatha took a step back, her eyes lifting from the grave to look at the others. Sorina remained silent, her own gaze still casted down at the slab of stone. It was only when Jack cleared his throat the silence was broken once more.

"I guess I'll go next." He swallowed, his voice already thick with emotion. "I wouldn't be where I am now without Zoe. When we first met, I was just a small fish in a big pond. I'd gotten into graduate school, but I honestly didn't know where to go from there. It wasn't until Dr. Van Helsing came to one of my lectures and spoke...something just clicked and I knew I had to reach out to her."

The young man smiled, shaking his head. "That's when I started working under her and then coincidentally met you." Sorina finally looked up, captured by Jack's attention. "If it hadn't been for Zoe's, I wouldn't have been lucky enough to know you. And I can't even imagine life without that. So thank you, Zoe. Thank you for everything."

A gentle breeze blew, brushing against the yellow flower petals. Sorina still had yet to say anything, her mouth pressed into a thin line. Agatha glanced at her husband, giving him a knowing look. Dracula's lips pursed, clearly not wanting to engage with a speech. Sure, Zoe had cared for his child, but he didn't see the need to make a statement on her behalf. But then again, there was Sorina. If anything, he needed to do it for her.

"Alright," he exhaled, Agatha frowning when he did so. "What to say. Well, as Agatha put it, I appreciate what you did for my Sorina. We had our differences, you and I. After all, you did try to…" His wife's dark glare made him reconsider his words. "You loved her, which is as much as I can ask of someone. Evidently, you provided protection too, seeing as what she is-what we are. And even though you apparently brought him into the picture…" His eyes narrowed at Jack. "I suppose you deserve a round of thanks. So thank you. For being there for my daughter."

Once more silence fell upon the group and Sorina could feel the other three pairs of eyes focus on her. Chewing on her bottom lip, a thumb pressing a small indent into one of the stems, she sucked in a sharp breath. Part of her wanted to turn away. To leave and pretend this wasn't happening. But her feet remained rooted to the ground as if paralyzed by some unseen force.

"I've known you since you were born." The words trembled as she spoke. "You grew up with me. We laughed, fought, and cried. I hated you, but I loved you more. When you had nightmares as a child, I let you sleep with me. I promised you I'd always be there, no matter what. And I tried, Zoe. I really, really did."

Tears began to stream down her cheeks, but no one moved to touch her. She was grateful for that.

"We both knew the end was coming. When you were diagnosed with cancer. I just didn't think…" She paused, trying to recollect herself. "None of us saw that this was going to be the end. But I'm glad I was there when it happened. That you weren't alone…" The halfing gave a wet smile, her cheeks glistening in the sunlight from her tears. "I'll never forget you, Zoe. No matter how many decades, centuries, millenniums I live through, you'll always be in my heart. I love you."

With the utmost care, Sorina bent down and placed the flowers over the gravestone. She stayed there for a moment to take it all in. It didn't register that her mother and Jack had left her side, making their way back to the car when she felt her father's hand on her shoulder. The halfling stood up, meeting her father's eyes.

"She's gone." He said quietly, his daughter caught off guard by his words. "I've been listening and she's no longer here suffering."

"What do you mean?" Sorina questioned, brow furrowed in misunderstanding. "Of course she's dead. We all saw her!"

"I mean, she's not trapped here," the vampire explained. "Sometimes the dead are restless. Stuck here forever in this plane of existence. If you pay attention, you can hear them." His stare remained locked on hers. "Focus, Sorina. Listen."

Though wary of her father's words, Sorina closed her eyes and listened closely. At first, she heard nothing, just the wind in the trees. Then, ever so softly, the moaning began. The calling. Corpses begging for their freedom. Fear struck her in the heart and she pressed against Dracula.

"What...who…" She stumbled, looking around wildly. How she hadn't experienced this before, she was unsure. She'd visited cemeteries throughout the decades. Year after year of losing loved ones. But perhaps she closed herself off to the idea of death and what lay beyond its gates. After all, she'd never experience the end herself. "I don't understand…"

"It's more apparent at night," Dracula responded. "But they can't hurt you. You needn't be afraid."

Sorina did her best not to think about which of her relatives were forced to become the undead, rotting away in their coffins under the surface. Running a hand through her long, thick hair, her shoulders slumped in defeat.

"I'm tired of losing people that I care about," she mumbled. "I want it to stop. To be done with it once and for all." Sorina glanced at her father. "Swear to me that you and Mum will never leave again. No matter what happens, we'll be a family. That if you go, you take me with you. And Jack too."

Of course, as much as he'd like to admit it, he wasn't keen on the idea of taking Jack anywhere. Getting used to the fact still that Sorina was no longer a little girl, but a grown woman was hard enough. Knowing that she was romantically involved with someone was much more difficult. But he knew she needed to hear those words, and knew that deep down he truly meant them.

"No matter what," he swore, pulling his daughter into a tight embrace. "We will always be a family." A promise he intended on keeping this time.

                          Dracula's and Agatha's Home

                                 Six Months Later

"Don't I have any say in on how my child's nursery looks?"

Agatha's lips pursed as she eyed Sorina from her rocking chair, both hands resting on her swelling abdomen. Her daughter had taken to becoming the interior designer of the room, not giving her mother much freedom to add her input. It had been decided that the theme would be the night sky. Sorina, of course, had gone with the idea as the moon and the stars were the very first glimpses she saw of the outside world.

"Trust me, Mum, in the end, you're going to like it." Sorina promised, adding another brush stroke of dark, navy paint to the wall. "And put on your mask. The fumes can't be good for the baby."

Her mother frowned at her bossy tone, but did as she said. It was rather bothersome how overprotective everyone seemed to be over her. Dracula rarely letting her get up off her feet to do anything. Had he forgotten she'd been pregnant once before-and as a human at that? Nevertheless, for her own sanity, she allowed them to wait hand over foot on her. Sometimes she secretly liked it.

"Jack, if you make the slightest nick in my crib, I will make you regret the day you were born."

The screwdriver dropped from the young man's hand as he met the vampire's dark glare. Instead of ordering a pre-designed cradle, Dracula wanted to replicate the same one he'd made for Sorina well over a century ago. It was a nostalgic idea that Agatha really liked. But of course, it would've been a lot better if her husband didn't continually threaten her daughter's poor boyfriend.

"Leave him alone, Dad. He's just trying to help!" Sorina threw a look at her father over her shoulder. "This is supposed to be a bonding exercise."

"Would it be more helpful if I just brought the blankets and things into the room?" Jack suggested, desiring to be anywhere but beside the vampire. "I think there were packages delivered earlier."

"Just mind the walls," Dracula exhaled loudly. "And don't trip, I don't want to spend another several hours at the clinic because you got a concussion."

It'd only happened once, just a few weeks back. Jack had been helping move some things when he tripped over the living room rug. He hit his head pretty hard, scaring Sorina the most. But in the end, after a long visit to the hospital and having to stay awake for twenty four hours, everything had been fine. Though Dracula hadn't exactly forgotten the minor "inconvenience" it caused him.

"I'll come and help you, Jack." Sorina exclaimed, frowning at her father as she set the brush down into the pail. "There can't be that many."

As the two disappeared down the steps, Agatha turned her attention to her husband. "Why must you be so rough with him?" She inquired irritably. "The boy has done absolutely nothing to you."

"He's dating my daughter," Dracula replied with a shrug, focused on the legs of the crib. "I'm allowed to disapprove of my child's significant other. It's nothing personally, really. I just want what's best for her."

"What's best for her is being happy," his spouse commented. "And Jack makes her happy."

"And I want her to be happy," the count agreed. "Just not with Jack." He seemed to pause for a moment as if in deep thought. "Or with anyone really. There is nothing wrong with being single. I was so for centuries."

"But now you have me," Agatha added. "And I'd like to think that perhaps I was the best thing that ever happened to you?"

"Well yes, you and Sorina," he agreed. "But that's different."

"How so?"

It was a good question, he'd give her that. Smirking, he stood up and made his way over to her. Agatha eyed him curiously as he rested his hands on either arm rest of the rocking chair.

"For starters, you are positively attractive, in both appearance and wit. You had the audacity to try to kill me." He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to her's. Agatha chuckled, smirking softly. "And you are quite talented in your bed." His wife snorted, swatting at him. "You know it's true."

"Let Sorina decide what's good for her and what isn't," the former nun replied. "It's her life after all." She smiled fondly and took a hold of his hand, pressing it down where the baby just kicked. "Besides, we have enough on our plate with this little one coming. Our daughter is a smart girl, she'll do the right thing."

Dracula stared at his wife, his thumb gently caressing over the spot where the infant had moved. He didn't want to admit it, but he knew it was the truth. He had to let Sorina make her own decisions-despite it being so hard to watch.

"Fine," he exhaled. "But if he breaks her heart, I won't hesitate to kill him."

"And I'll help you dispose of the body," Agatha added lightheartedly. "Now, can you move that dresser just a tad to the right? It's blocking part of the window." 

                                                      XXX

Jack noticed the look of concern plastered on Sorina's face as they stared down at the many parcels sitting by the door. He knew that expression all too well-she had misplaced something. Pursing her lips, she mentally counted the boxes to make sure of it. The halfling was certain now. One of them was in fact missing.

"It's the breast pump." Sorina frowned, pinching the brim of her nose. "I specifically ordered that special for her."

"Not that it is any of my concern, but your mum's going to...nurse?" Jack ventured hesitantly. "Isn't she worried about...you know…"

"Fangs?" The halfling chuckled, an amused expression crossing her features. "Exactly why I ordered the damn thing in the first place. Apparently I did a number on her and I don't think she's going to let me forget it anytime soon." Scratching the back of her head, Sorina sighed. "I don't know where it could've gone. I'm sure I put on the correct address."

"Is it possible it's at the house?" And by the way Sorina tensed up, he knew he didn't need to specify further. "I can drive by and see if it was dropped off there. You can just stay here and…"

"No." She cut him off abrupt, waving her hand. "No...I'll go with you. It's been awhile anyway."

"Are you sure?" He asked, making sure her eyes locked onto his. "Sunny, if you are uncomfortable. I can go alone. It's probably sitting out front anyway. It'd just take a second."

She shook her head and forced a smile. "I need to get out of the house anyway. The smell of paint gave me a headache. Some fresh air would do me some good."

He wasn't about to argue with that. Digging around in his pockets, he produced his car keys. His ride was nothing special-a beat up, old yellow buggy he'd gotten used as a graduation present. But it did its job fine. Once Sorina had climbed in on the passenger's side, he started it up and pulled onto the road.

"I was thinking we could go out to that little Italian place you like for dinner." The young doctor suggested, attempting to stir up some conversation. "Maybe go see a movie afterwards?"

Sorina merely stared out the window, the wind blowing through her dark hair. "Only if you let me pay this time." She didn't need to look over to know Jack was frowning. "C'mon, we agreed that we'd share expenses. I don't need you paying for everything. I have money too."

"Why can't you just let me court you like in the good old days." He smiled, Sorina gaping at him in mock astonishment. "When life was simpler. I'd take you for a walk, we'd talk until after dusk, and I'd walk you to your doorstep before giving you a peck on the cheek. No need to rile your parents up about being out late."

Dr. Seward," Sorina gasped. "Are you calling me old?"

"I've always been fond of mature women." He explained, Sorina shoving him playfully. "Well, only when it came to you."

"I'm 123 years young, thank you very much." The halfling declared proudly, straightening up in her seat. "And I'll have you know I'm very selective. I don't just pick out any boy I like. In fact, I fancy just one."

"Should I be jealous?" He inquired, cocking an eye questioningly. "Do I know this man you speak of?"

"Oh, you should be quite envious," Sorina smirked. "He's very kind and charming. And quite handsome at that. I've been seeing him too, you know."

"Miss Van Helsing you scandalous thing." Jack chuckled, leaning over to kiss her. "What am I to do with you?"

"Anything you like." The way she said it made a shiver run down his spine. His stomach fluttering in such excitement he'd be too embarrassed to admit it. "As long as it isn't around my father." And there went the feeling completely.

                                  Zoe Van Helsing's Residence

When they pulled up into the driveway, Sorina fell quiet again. Already from the car, Jack could clearly see the package resting on the porch. As he opened his door to get out, he was taken aback when the halfing did the same. Saying nothing, she made her way up the steps, retrieving a familiar gold key that hid under the rug.

"Sunny…" He began, but the woman had already turned the lock, pushing the door open. "Sunny, wait!"

The interior of the house was dark as the two entered inside. For the sake of not tripping over anything, Jack flipped on the light switch. Everything looked just as they left it. Sorina not bothering much in the few times she'd come over for things. Mostly she moved about between her parents' place and his. Though it was technically her's, Sorina still had yet to call it "home" once more.

"Did you forget something?" He asked, following her as she made her way down the hall. "I thought everything was packed up?"

"I just want to grab something, okay?" She responded, finally stopping in her tracks. "For the baby's room."

Jack's heart skipped a beat when he realized where they were standing. The outside of Zoe's room. A forbidden location that had almost remained untouched since the funeral. He felt as if he should say something. Anything. Maybe advise her against going in. Offer her support. Instead he remained silent, watching as she carefully turned the knob.

It was just as Zoe had left it. Bed well made, stacks of paper by her computer. Even a bottle of medication sat at her desk. But Sorina seemed to ignore all of that. She walked over to a shelf, acting as if nothing else was in the room. Gingerly, she lifted an object up and Jack realized immediately what it was. A picture frame.

Zoe. A much younger, healthier looking Zoe smiled back at him through the glass. She wore her hair down and in her hands she grasped a certificate. A diploma from her years at medical school. By her side, arm wound around her, grinned the brilliant, bright eyed Sorina. They looked so happy together. Happier than he'd ever seen his late mentor look. When Sorina finally turned around, there were tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I think this will look nice in the baby's room." She whispered with sorrowful, and yet hopeful smile.

Jack pulled her in close, kissing the top of her head as he too gazed down at the picture.

"Yeah," he agreed. "It's perfect."