Disclamer: The characters, quotes, and situations here belong to Brahm Stoker. I only borrow them. A/N: This story is based on the Dracula/Mina blood exchange scene in the novel, but with a different twist. It will have more chapters, and possibly become quite long. I use alot of Stoker quotes, but have modifyed some of the dialouge. Enjoy!


2, October

I lay in bed next to Jonathan and waited for sleep to come. In sleep all of this trouble, all this sorrow seemed gone, ended. But in the morning I would remember my frightful dreams and the whole cycle of life and death would begin again. This strange and terrible monster; Dracula. I had never seen him, but what he had done to poor Lucy, and to my dear Jonathan! Why is this earth plagued with such beings?

But even he must long for redemption, for perhaps he is like dear Lucy, he was forced into endless servitude to Hell, perhaps it was not his fault…but I cannot be thinking these thoughts, not of the monster who caused Lucy's death and Jon's long illness! I must put these thoughts from my mind, and concentrate my energies on destroying him as I had for a long time.

I wanted to sleep, why could I not? I had taken the sleeping draught that I had asked for from Van Helsing faithfully, but yet sleep would not come, and those thoughts came instead. Or was it that I feared sleep, and so resisted it? My hand unconsciously went to the marks on my throat. They seemed so like the ones I had seen on Lucy during her illness…no, I must not even think such things! It is only my foolishness that brings such thoughts to my mind. I must not think anything of it. And my dreams are the same. Even though that time it frightened me terribly, and I felt that my life would soon be ended, it was only my fear that did such to me.

I looked down at Jonathan, lying at my side, sleeping so deeply the way I could not. Oh dear Jonathan! I do love him so. He has been so changed by his encounter with the monster. His hair, which was once such a beautiful rich brown, is now white. And he is much graver then he was when I first met him, much sadder. But it has done a world of good for him, knowing that he is not mad. I remember when he first came back from his disastrous voyage, how he spoke his tales, which seemed to us then to be impossible, but which are sadly true. At least now that weight is gone from his heart, though others have come to replace it, seeming to drag him further into the darkness.

But then, when I began to drift into blessed sleep, I saw what must have been a vision, but seemed terribly true. I could not know where such a fantasy might have come from, but it was indeed terrible.

I feel stone, cold stone…I am laid down upon it by gentle hands, yet the cold hurts me, pains me. It is…it is like the tomb, like something that a great King would be put upon after his death so that pilgrims can come to see him and pay their last respects…I shiver at the cold…I can see stone wings, an angel's wings, is it? – I cannot tell. My head lolls upon my neck, limp. I know that I must be unconscious, but I can see around me just as much as ever….

I was broken out of the dream suddenly, for I saw around me a white mist, creeping through the window around me. It was like that terrible night that seemed so long ago, and I was suddenly afraid. But the mist put me into a strange confused state where I could not think clearly. It made me feel terrified, and at the same time rather helpless, so I could not act on my fear. I wanted to wake Jon, in my uncontrollable fear, and I pulled and tugged at him, trying to wake him, franticly. But he would not wake, and I became more and more agitated in trying to wake him.

Then, O horror of horrors! A figure stepped out of the mist.

The mist disappeared suddenly, leaving the brightness of the moonlight even more obvious, so the only presences in the room were the figure, me, and the sleeping Jon. And as the mist disappeared I could see the figure clearly, so all in an instant I knew who he was. I could tell both from his image, which looked just as the others had described him, and also I felt that I knew him, as if from some other meeting, or life, or world. I was filled with utter dread, for though I knew nothing of his purpose in coming here, I knew that it could be for no good reason.

In my fear my heart stood still, and I wanted to cry out, to scream out, and would have, if not for the fear which paralyzed me. Then he spoke, and I felt as though I had heard his voice before, though I knew that I could not have.

"Silence!" he cried, "If you make a sound I will take your husband and you shall see him die before your eyes!" His threat to Jon filled me with a cold fear, but I knew that I would not have spoken, even without the threat.

He smiled mockingly, a smile that chilled my soul. He put his pale hand on my shoulder, and the other on my bare neck. I shivered at his touch, for his hands were like ice. But for some inexplicable reason, his touch thrilled me in the strangest manner. With the hand on my throat he pulled my head back in a most unpleasant way, so I thought that I would choke.

He then said, still mocking me, "First, a little refreshment to reward my excursions. You may as well be quiet; it is not the first time, nor the second, that your veins have appeased my thirst!" I was overcome with the horror of what I knew he was about to do, and the vulgarity of his words and brutal honesty. And from his other words I knew that my fears had been right; the marks upon my throat had a more sinister purpose.

He then placed his lips upon my throat, and I felt his fangs pierce my skin, draining my blood. I thought that I would feel pain, but I did not. As my blood was drained out of my body I fell halfway into a swoon, falling from my feet onto my knees, and then would have fallen more if he hadn't caught me as I did so.

But then the vision that had come to me just before the mist came returned, and I was enveloped in it…

He laid me down on the stone, and left me for a few blessed moments, though the cold of the stone made me shiver. But then he returned, and I could feel his lips on my throat, in a dreadful kiss, drawing blood until the world was hazy with red in my vision…and I could see no more of the stars above me, only the red, and the cold…

I did know how long it was until he took his lips from my throat, but when he finally did I could see blood dripping from his mouth, and it terrified me to know that it was mine.

Then he pulled me from my near faint, back up onto my knees, and looked into my eyes, and spoke in a tone of mockery or anger, yet there was a strange gentleness in the words as well, though I could not for the life of me explain how that could be when the words were so cruel. "And so you, like the others, would play your brains against me! You would help these men to hunt and frustrate me in my designs!"

Here he gave a cruel smile. "But you know now, and they know in part already, what it is to cross me. They should have kept their energies for use closer to home. Whilst they played wits against me – against me who had commanded nations, and intrigued for them, and fought for them, hundreds of years before they were born! – I was countermining them." He stroked the marks on my neck with that terrible smile.

It was here that his tone took on the strange gentleness, which managed to captivate me, holding me in those terrible red eyes. "And you, once their best beloved one, are now to me flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood, kin of my kin. For a while, at least, and you shall later on be my companion and my helper." I could, with dread and fascination, see my future played out, though I did not wish to.

But then the gentle tone was gone and the mocking malice filled every word. "You shall be avenged in turn, for not one of them shall minister to your needs. But as yet you are to be punished for what you done. You have aided in thwarting me; now you shall come to my call. When my mind calls for you to come, you shall cross land or sea to do my bidding. But to that, it is time to end this!"

And then – then he did something so horrifying that I – I could not have imagined what he was about to do, so innocent was I, so his actions bewildered me in my strange state of mind, still unable to do anything to help myself.

He ripped his shirt so that his flesh was visible, and then took both my hands in one of his, holding them so tightly, the strength of his grip caused me such great pain that I thought their mark would remain there forever. He held them away from my body at full tension so that I could not move. Then with one unimaginably sharp fingernail he pierced a vein in his chest, very near his heart.

His blood began to flow freely from the wound, and yet he did not even flinch. While I was still bewildered by his actions and still did not understand his purpose, he took my head with the hand that had cut his vein, and as he held the back of my neck, pressed my mouth to the flowing blood. I would suffocate if I did not swallow some of the blood. I was horrified, as the warm blood poured into my mouth, yet I could do nothing about it. He still held my hands in his terrible grip, and I had no way of breaking free from his hold.

We remained in this position for quite a time, him letting me drink his blood as he calmly stroked my hair, almost as if he was trying to calm me. But how could I be calmed by the monster who was forcing me to drink his blood? I would have screamed, and indeed I tried to, but my cries were muffled and I only swallowed more of his blood.

It was in this dreadful position, me kneeling like a penitent with my mouth pressed to his chest and my nightdress smeared with blood, that we were in when I heard people entering. My first thought was – curiously – of shame, that I had been caught doing something so terrible, and sinful, and shameful, that I should feel ashamed at it. The relief that someone had come to save me from the dreadful ministrations of this monster was only an afterthought.

But all of a sudden I was thrown back onto the bed by Dracula, and I could hardly recover my breath as I saw Van Helsing approaching, bearing a fragment of the Holy Wafer to keep away the monster. At this moment the moonlight failed, as though it was the Count who had been keeping it there. And then the room was utterly dark, even a gaslight, which Quincy had brought with him was extinguished. I could feel myself being picked up, by Dracula, I knew, and he began to run toward the window.

He would bring me away, I knew, away all my loved ones, away from Jon, and I screamed, a terrible, bloodcurdling scream that I never could have imagined would come from my body. Despair was in that scream, even though, before this night, I had not known that I could despair, not true despair, with such purity or lack of hope. It was indeed a horrible scream, and it must have woken Jon, for I heard him cry out, "Mina! My love! Is that you? Where are you?"

I wanted to cry out I am here, my love, my dear, I am here, please take me and bring me away from all this, my love, my darling! But Dracula put a hand of over my mouth, which still dripped with his blood, and hissed, "Silence!" And of course Jon could not see me in the darkness, nor could the others, for I could hear their scrambling as they looked for the source of the scream.

And suddenly the moonlight returned, for an instant, but in that instant Dracula leapt from the window into the cold night sky, with me in his arms, and began flying over the city, while my hapless rescuers could only watch in horror.