Disclaimer: This was written under the influence of Reeses Cups, but then every good melodrama needs comic relief!

Stunned with uncomprehending grief, Barnabas was unable to move from the floor, and was only barely aware of the changes beginning to occur around him.

First Maggie began looking at him with stark horror, and mumbling the tune of 'London Bridge', she slowly backed away from him toward the window, her form becoming oddly luminous and then gradually turning transparent until it disappeared. Amy began shaking violently and her eyes widened to black saucers, she started whispering frantic, unintelligible things to herself and clawing her own face, until with a shrill scream, she ran across the room and cowered behind a chair where she faded out to nothing.

Elizabeth's composure disintegrated completely, and she began looking around suspiciously, as if she were a hunted animal, who could trust no one. She started choking for air and collapsed onto the sofa where with one arm raised as if trying to push against something above her, she faded into thin air.

Carolyn ran to the nearest dark corner of the room, her hands covering the lower part of her face in shock as the people who meant so much to her life lost their place in the line of time, but as the very atmosphere in the room turned cold and dank, she stopped shivering and began chuckling softly with hard, staring eyes fixed on Barnabas.

It was apparent within a horrible instant what she was becoming. "Cousin, it seems to be just you and me now. Don't you think that is so appropriate?" She said from across the room, and though he tried to avoid her hypnotic gaze, he felt rooted to the floor. "I think I can hear your heart beating, Barnabas, and I can even feel the warmth of your blood flowing through your veins/"

"NO, Carolyn," he sobbed softly, not as a plea for himself, but in realization that she was what he had almost made her years ago.

"It's my turn to share with you, Barnabas, what you so thoughtfully shared with me once." Carolyn slowly left the shadow of the corner, advancing on him where he was still on his knees. He was right where she wanted him, subjugated, where he would have to look up to her to see her fangs before she plunged them into his throat. But when she stepped out of the deep shadows that were filling the edges of the room, she suddenly began writhing in the fading sunlight coming through the windows.

Carolyn hissed loudly as the thin, lingering rays of light touched her. Wisps of smoke curled upward where the weak light was burning her flesh, and she stumbled across the carpet, seeking protection of darkness and clung against the corner which kept the receding sunllight from touching her smoking bare skin. She was panicked and screamed hysterically, but as the sun set and the window turned dark, she screamed in anger. "You're to blame for this, Barnabas," she screeched as her bistered skin peeled away in ragged strips. "This is your fault!"

Quentin rushed into the drawing room, attracted by Carolyn's screams, but he stopped short, suddenly unaware of where he was or how he got there. He wavered, realizing that the man on the floor was sobbing a woman's name, and the girl crouching in the corner was screaming incoherently and hissing like a cat with its ears pinned back, while smoke and the acrid smell of burned flesh emanated from her direction. Rubbing his forehead and looking confused and lost, he was soon joined by Roger Collins, who had obviously gotten a good start on the evening's drinking.

"What the devil is going on here?" Roger was far from being inarticulate or stumbling, but his dulled senses made him hardly a tower of reason. He merely glanced at Barnabas, giving his full attention to Carolyn. "My God, Kitten?" He took hesitant steps toward his niece, but stopped when she made a lunge at him, hissing with fangs exposed in an intimidating evil smile. Roger stumbled a step backward in revulsion at her burned flesh, and Carolyn was on him, her vampiric strength giving her petite body the power to hold him for a very intimate family moment.

"The incestors that play together --" she whispered into his ear with seductive menace, lowering her fangs to his throat, craving the taste of his aristocratic blood, so like her own had once been. Blonde hair pressed into blonde hair as she teased his skin with a slow sensuous upward stroke of the smooth curve of her fangs, and brought a shiver to him with a flicking touch of her tongue against his neck. His only reaction was a tremulous pleading cry of, "No!" when Carolyn drew back to plunge into the artery that throbbed with delightful invitation, but she was forced to stop by the approach of Mrs. Johnson, who rushed into the drawing room, holding a large cross before her at arms length like a can of bug spray directed at a wasp's nest.

"Go on outside, Carolyn! Go play with the rest of your friends and leave your uncle alone."

Carolyn released Roger so abruptly that he slumped to the floor, and with a hiss escaping through the peeling lips in her raw face, she vanished.

After briefly inspecting his neck for telltale marks, and discreetly touching the cross to his skin for conformation, Sarah Johnson helped Roger to his feet and turned to Barnabas, who was still on his knees. Slyly holding the cross against his hand and waiting for a reaction before she offered assistance, Mrs. Johnson helped Barnabas stand and asked if Carolyn had hurt him.

Though his legs felt too weak to support his weight, Barnabas managed to stand as he searched her face for answers. "They disappeared," he croaked hoarsly with a shaking voice. "Julia and Ben -- Julia was sitting there on the sofa next to Elizabeth, they were laughing, and she disappeared -- they all disappeared."

Mrs. Johnson frowned, though the deep vertical lines between her brows told that she had done a lot of frowning in the years that she had worked for the Collins family. "Mr. Collins, no one named Julia or Ben was here today, and if you are talking about Elizabeth Stoddard, why she died four years ago. surely you remember, it was horrible -- buried alive. Don't you remember, you were there when they opened the casket and found she had tried to claw her way out."

Barnabas stared at her for too long of a time with eyes wide and uncomprehending, making Mrs. Johnson very uncomfortable. She knew from long years of close association that some of the Collins members were prone to a weakness of the mind, and after all, Barnabas Collins himself was prone to think too much about the past instead of having his feet firmly planted in the here and now.

"No -- Elizabeth was rescued --" his voice trailed off without finishing his thought.

"Mr. Collins, did you hit your head, or did Carolyn hypnotize you?" When he didn't answer, but looked frantically around the room as if he had lost something, Mrs. Johnson turned her attention to Quentin and wondered where he came from. She hadn't heard anyone knock on the door since Barnabas Collins arrived, and when she had opened the door to him, he had been alone. She held out her cross, and when Quentin didn't flinch, she touchd him with it, just to be sure, before saying, "Sir, are you alright? You look dazed."

Quentin's handsome face had the look of a lost boy who had stumbled onto a back alley drug deal. "What sort of place is this?" his earnest expression and the disbelief in his voice roused Barnabas from his shock to face his cousin. "That girl was a -- a vampire," said Quentin. "She disappeared into thin air."

"Don't give it another thought," said Mrs. Johnson offhandedly. "The woods around Collinwood are crawling with vampires. That's why we have garlic hanging in all the windows, and believe you me," she grumbled, "it was quite a chore putting it all up with no more help than I have around here, I can tell you. I couldn't get to all of the windows, I had to put up a barrier at some of the connecting doors. But they're not allowed to come in unless they're invited, even Carolyn, though she constantly tries, poor soul, so remember not to invite anyone in after dark."

"I've got to get out of here." mumbled Quentin.

"It's not safe to leave until dawn, sir. They'd all be on you before you got to your car."

"Quentin, we have to find out what has happened here," said Barnabas, emotion colored his voice as he tried to gather his wits and rally a rescue. "We have to find out what has happened to Julia and Ben and the others." Barnabas watched his cousin slump into a chair and rub his forehead, unaware that his name had been spoken. "Quentin?" Barnabas touched the younger man on the shoulder and received a startled look in return.

Quentin turned his eyes up to Barnabas' face, but there was no look of recognition in them, only questions. "Why are you calling me that? Do you know me?" Quentin rubbed his forehead again. "I don't know how I got here, but I'm not staying after that little circus act."

"It's not safe to leave until daylight," said Roger while pouring himself a very stifff drink, and only his being a Collins, and having a superior sense of pride in his own impeccable manners stopped him from dispensing with the glass and drinking straight from the bottle. "Do you know how Carolyn got into the house, Mrs. Johnson?"

"No sir," she shot a suspicious glance at Quentin. "I only know I didn't ask her to come in."

"Roger, what is happening here." Barnabas demanded. "When did Carolyn become -- like that?"

Roger and Mrs. Johnson exchanged glances. "Surely you remember, Barnabas, you must remember the search parties when we tried to find where she slept four years ago! First Cassandra, then Vickie Winters, then Carolyn, then Tom Jennings, there has been such a string of horrible tragedies that sometimes I forget the order in which they occurred." Roger downed a sizable portion of brandy before continuing. "Poor dear Liz --"

Barnabas' mind reeled with guilt, the last five years as he knew them had somehow changed, it was as if they had never happened, and he was drowning in the middle of 1967 as he had created it.

"Don't forget Willie Loomis and the Evans girl," added Mrs. Johnson with a disturbing matter of factness. "He was drained of blood in the hospital, and she got sent off to the State Mental Institution before Miss Winters rose from the dead."

* * *

Barnabas became increasingly more agitated, and Roger offered him a drink. "You look like a man who could use a double," said Roger sauntering to the liquor cabinet with his own empty glass. "I find that staying inebriated not only helps the nerves, but those damned vampires don't care for a high level of alcohol in the blood and treat you like a piece of culled produce."

"Roger!" The grief in Barnabas' voice, and the fact that he had quickly crossed the room and was right in Roger's face, stopped his cousin's ramblings. "What of Julia?"

"Who?"

"Julia Collins, my wife!"

"Sorry Barnabas, I wasn't aware that you were married."

"We were wed in this room less than a year ago!" Barnabas was losing in the battle to control the utter panic that threatened to swallow him. He grabbed hold of Roger's arm, and the brandy sloshed over the rim of the snifter. "You can't have forgotten her. She was a houseguest here at Collinwood, a dear friend to Elizabeth and yourself!"

"Calm yourself, Barnabas. I know you've had a nasty fright -- we all have. Perhaps I was away on business during her stay at Collinwood."

"She lived here for four years!" Barnabas turned chalk white and was momentarily stunned into silence before he whispered, "What year is this?"

Roger and Mrs. Johnson exchanged glances yet again before Roger said with gentle concern, "This is 1972, Barnabas. I believe this incident has given you quite a shock. You behave as if you are not aware of the situation which has existed here all along since you moved into the Old House. If you don't mind, I would like to call our family doctor and ask him to come around tomorrow to see you. Perhaps he could prescribe a sedative for your nerves."

Roger had already begun dialing the telephone, and before Barnabas could object, Roger said, "This is Roger Collins calling, would you tell Dr. Woodard I wish to speak to him."

Barnabas started at the mention of a man who he knew to be long dead, knew without a doubt to be dead because his life had ended at Barnabas' own hands. "Dave Woodard is alive?" he croaked hoarsely.

Roger frowned at his cousin briefly and then spoke into the phone. "Doctor Woodard, we've had a most unfortunate incident at Collinwood tonight, all of our nerves are frayed from the encounter, would you come tomorrow and --"

"May I speak to him Roger," Barnabas said politely while firmly snatching the receiver from Roger's hand, and he spoke to a man who he knew should be moldering in a grave. "Dr. Woodard?" Barnabas felt a wave of nausea when the man on the other end of the line responded in a familiar voice. "Doctor, this is Barnabas Collins. Would you be so kind as to tell me if you know where I can find Julia." It was obvious that Dr. Woodard asked, "Who?" because Barnabas snapped out of frustration, "Julia Coll -- Dr. Julia Hoffman!"

On the other end of the line, Dave Woodard paused and scratched his temple absently before answering the Collins' eccentric English cousin. "Well -- Mr. Collins, you've caught me short on that. I once knew a Dr. Julia Hoffman, years ago in medical school, I remember her well, we were friends, she was a brilliant student, salutatorian of our graduating class, a pretty girl with red hair and a temper to match, half of the class had a crush on her, but you can't possibly be looking for the same person." He paused when Barnabas barked out, "Why not?" "Because. Mr. Collins, the Julia Hoffman I knew, died while she was serving out her residency."

"NO!" Barnabas felt his heart stop beating.

"Yes, she was killed in a car wreck, her car slid off the road and ended up submerged in Crystal Lake. She was trapped inside and drowned. Damned shame, she had a fine intellect and a courageous soul. I used to wonder what medical breakthrough she would have discovered had she lived."

Barnabas was unable to escape the despair that seemed to be sucking the very life spark out of his body as the doctor spoke. Surely Woodard was getting his revenge by slashing Barnabas' heart with the razor sharp edge of his words before pulling it out for study. But -- he's alive, there's not reason for revenge. Barnabas' soul was keening in torment. "No, she can't be dead. It did not happen that way." But his denial only met with a dismal reality.

"Well, it's not likely that there would be two Dr. Julia Hoffmans," said Dr. Woodard. "At least I only knew one. I can guarantee that it did happen. I might even be able to show you proof."

The phone slipped from Barnabas' hand, and Roger picked it up to finish the conversation. "Dr. Woodard, you needn't come out tonight, those of us inside the house seem harmless enough, if not docile, but 'they' seem to be quite active outside for some reason. Very well then, but do arm yourself appropriately."

Barnabas slumped onto a sofa. "She can't be dead," he groaned into his hands. "If she were -- then Ben would never have been born."

Quentin stopped his agitated pacing when a gauntly pretty female face appeared to hover just outside the window and beckoned to him to come closer. He took a step forward, but Mrs. Johnson quickly laid a hand on his arm, and held up her cross to the pale face, and said calmly, "Go on now, Miss Winters." The face curled its lip and exposed the gleam of dainty fangs before floating out of sight.

Quentin's agitation finally got the best of him. "This is a damned mad house! You people treat the undead trying to get in to kill you like it's no more unusual than the neighbor's dog hiking his leg on your lawn! I'm taking my chances out there."

"You'd better take a cross," said Mrs. Johnson, as if warning about vampires was as commonplace as telling him to take an umbrella to protect himself from rain.

"I can make it to a car," he said, determined to leave.

"Don't be impetuous!" Roger raised his cultured voice in exasperated warning, as Quentin threw open the great doors of Collinwood and looked around for a car that might be his. Then he made a run for the clearing where several cars were parked.

Mrs. Johnson watched him run from the house and then hesitated before slamming the doors behind him, and when she returned to the drawing room, she shook her head and muttered, "I think one got him."

Roger shook his head and drained his glass, then as an after thought he asked, "Mrs. Johnson, do you know where David is? I haven't seen him all evening."

"He's playing with his crystal ball in the kitchen, Mr. Collins. He was the one who told me that Carolyn was attacking you."

"Oh?" The imperious tone was 'very Roger', but the man appeared genuinely moved that his son had been an instrumental part of saving his life. "I must thank him properly."

Mrs. Johnson glanced at him quickly and muttered something about not thinking that THAT had been David's intention.

to be continued.

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