Julia knew Barnabas better than he did himself. "If you go back, you will not be happy. Barnabas, look at yourself clearly for once. You always want the things that are outside of your grasp."

But Barnabas would not listen. He must go back somehow. "Please help me, Julia." He begged.

So Julia helped him to succeed, as she knew they would. For when hadn't they succeeded, when the two of them worked together? If Julia's heart was not in it, she never let Barnabas know, for only she seemed to realize that their success would be for the last time, for she would not be going with him, and he would not be able to come back to her.

With Eliot's help, the plans were made. Barnabas wrapped up his affairs, deeded his house to Julia, and drew from Willie the promise that he would always care for her. With Julia's help, his death was faked, and as his coffin was lowered into the ground, he passed from this time, to one past. Julia stood surrounded by the Collins family, all shocked at his sudden death, all wishing to comfort the stony faced Julia. They knew how much pain the blank countenance was hiding, for that light that had always glowed in her eyes was suddenly snuffed out.

After the service, which Julia had heard little, she refused to return to Collinwood with the family, and had refused their company as she maintained a lonely vigil. She couldn't tell them what she was really staying for, to see if Barnabas had been successful.

When she was finally alone, the grave refilled, she entered the family mausoleum and looked for Valerie's plaque. To her dismay, the plaque had been little changed. For only the year was new. And according to the plaque, Angelique had died only one year after Barnabas returned. As she turned to leave, her eyes caught sight of a second plaque, tarnished with age, but not there a few days ago.

Barnabas Collins
Waiting for Daylight
Died 1880.

The tears Julia fought since they had placed the sleeping Barnabas in his coffin could be fought no longer. Barnabas was not alive in the past, he was not happy in the past, he was dead. And she grieved.

Time softened the sharp edges of grief, wearing them not away but blunting them into bearable memories. The pain around the heart, changed to ache, and minutes without pain, changed to hours, and days. In time Julia healed, and began to live again. Although her life was comfortable, it remained lonely.

About a year after Barnabas' death, for truly he died to Julia on that day he went to the past, she was up in the attic looking for a dress she promised to lend to Hallie for a costume party. Julia suddenly felt the presence of somebody. "Willie? Hallie?" She listened and received no reply, but knew she wouldn't. She had always known when Barnabas had entered a room. "Barnabas?" She whispered. A shadow moved, or did it? She went to where she had thought she had seen the motion, and opened a little chest against the wall. Books. She picked up one, then another, tears in her eyes. For on the inside of each one, in a handwriting she knew so well were the words, "Barnabas, his book", and the year it covered.

Julia began to read the first one.

My dearest Julia,
I have decided to copy the habits of you, my dear friend, and start a diary, in hopes that one-day you will see it.

I was successful, but only to a degree, as you must know by now. I was able to prevent Angelique's death, but in the end, I feel death was her destiny. Angelique died a few months ago, influenza, taking the life of our unborn child with her. I should not have tried to go back. But it is too late, and my life is here now. I only wish I could tell you, face-to-face, how much I miss you, my dear.

So each day, if you do not mind, I shall write to you, and imagine how we were. I already see you sitting next to the fire each time I enter the drawing room, and each time hope it is really you, having found a way to come back to me, since I cannot go forward to you. I will forever hope this. I must go now, but will visit with you tomorrow. Waiting for you, Your Barnabas

Julia and Eliot tried many things to send Julia to the past, but they failed, again and again, until they had to declare defeat. But Julia drew comfort from the trying. At first she read a years worth of entries at a time, and found herself at times laughing, at times crying. Then she realized it wasn't a novel. She did not want to get to the end, for the author would not write more. So she read to where the dates matched, and thereafter read each day's event at the corresponding evening in her time. As time passed he never missed a day, never forgot a birthday, and even marked the anniversary of the day they first met.

Each night, she would go to bed with Barnabas on her mind. Sometimes she would dream of him, and in her dreams he would hold her and speak the words of love she had never heard him say, but now each night read. The dreams were so real, Julia was certain that somehow in their sleep they had bridged time, and had come together. Often the next day after her dream, he would write, "I was with you again last night."

Time passed and Julia aged, reading the entries now with a magnifying glass, never allowing it to be read to her, as she did other books. Julia was always aware of the date of Barnabas' death, and it was with great sorrow, she picked up the last of the diaries, knowing that in a few short months, he would die again.

The night of the last entry, Julia got into bed with a heavy heart. She already knew that it was to be the last. She knew from family books, that Barnabas had gone to bed one night, and had simply never waked. As Julia opened the book, she felt Barnabas presence, as she had in the attic so long ago. "Barnabas?"

This time a voice answered her. "Julia. I'm here."

Julia peered toward the voice, seeing Barnabas standing at the foot of her bed. She got out of bed. Barnabas met her halfway and they embraced. Julia was certain this was one of her dreams, until he said, "I waited such a long time for you, my dear."