Temptation

Terry S. Bowers
August 21, 2000

With slow, deliberate, careful movements, Barnabas Collins rose from his coffin and stood beside it, hands resting against the lid as he closed it. He steadied himself, somehow finding the strength he needed to fight the pain and climb the stairs. He closed his eyes and leaned more heavily against the coffin, trying to understand what was happening to him, hoping against hope that Julia had found something - anything - that would help him overcome this atrocious need for blood.

That hope gave Barnabas the control he needed to make his way across the room and climb the cellar stairs with hesitant, deliberate steps. Each movement was an effort, one on which he had to concentrate. Knowing Julia waited for him at the top of the stairs allowed him to continue.

Nearing the end of his resources and control, Barnabas nearly tripped over the last step. He leaned forward and grasped the door for support, pushing it open and hanging on tightly as he slipped through and closed it again. Julia was there! She stepped toward him and placed a hand on his arm, her voice and face filled with concern.

"Barnabas, how do you feel now?"

"Julia, I have never before felt the need of blood so strongly."

He could sense and feel her react. Julia was afraid - for him and perhaps, distantly, of him. He knew this even though he did not face her, did not look at her.

"Julia, you must do something at once."

"I will, Barnabas, I'll..."

"No! There is no time! My need for blood is out of control. Never before have I felt such a creature of the night. I feel I must destroy... or be destroyed."

Barnabas gasped in pain again and Julia stepped closer, grasping his shoulders, slipping her arm around his waist and turning him from the door.

"Come with me, Barnabas."

He allowed Julia to lead him away from the cellar door and toward the drawing room. They had taken no more than a few steps when intense pain shot through Barnabas once more, followed by a surge of uncontrollable need and strength. He straightened and turned toward Julia. Barnabas brought his hands up to grip her shoulders and draw her close to him. He met and captured her frightened gaze, knowing only that she could provide what he so desperately needed, craved. Blood.

"Barnabas! No!"

He heard Julia's voice distantly, through the sound of her heartbeat and the surging of her blood through her veins. Some small, extremely weak part of his mind screamed at him, telling him this was wrong, that he could not do this, but the part of his mind that was in control, the part that was ruled by hunger and need, and the drive to survive at all costs, ignored the command to stop.

Barnabas' gaze shifted focus, to the place on Julia's neck where he could so easily take what he needed. He pushed Julia backwards, until she was pressed against the great stone pillar just inside the entrance to the drawing room. He stepped even closer, hands gripping her shoulders more tightly, body pressing against Julia, trapping her between himself and the pillar. Certain she could not move, could not escape, Barnabas raised his hand and pushed the silk turtleneck away from Julia's neck. His mouth opened further and he lowered his head to her neck, bringing his fangs down to touch the skin, to press it taut, almost to the point of breaking it.

Julia pulled in a deep breath and closed her eyes, then breathed out slowly. She tried to relax and prepare herself for what was about to happen. Hesitantly, gently, she brought her arms up around Barnabas' waist and shoulder, letting him know she was ready.

"Barnabas..."

Julia squeezed her eyes tight as she felt the pressure of Barnabas' fangs against her skin, right next to where his fingers caressed the left side of her neck. It was a gentle, caring touch, sending shivers through her; a touch that was in total contrast to the violence Barnabas was about to do. Then Julia felt Barnabas stiffen, felt the scrape of his fangs against her skin as he turned his head away. He pushed her against the pillar as he spun from her, his back to her as he trembled with need.

"No!"

Barnabas moved away from Julia, toward the fireplace. He stumbled to his chair and clung to the back to support himself. Julia reached up to touch her neck and the place Barnabas had almost bitten her. She could feel welts where his fangs had scraped her skin. Small smears of blood were on her fingers as she pulled them away. Barnabas had broken the skin, perhaps even tasted her blood, but he had not taken any. Julia took a deep breath and stepped forward.

"Barnabas..."

"Leave me, Julia. Now, while I still have some small control left."

"Let me help you, Barnabas. Let me give you..."

"No! You do not understand. The need is so great, so strong that I... I will kill you. I will have no choice. Leave me, Julia. Please."

The fear and dread in his voice was raw and sharp. Julia was torn, knowing he told her the truth; that he would take so much blood that she would die, and knowing he needed her help more desperately than ever before. Taking one more step toward him, Barnabas raised his gaze to meet hers. The fear and loathing and hatred he directed at himself was overwhelming. The longing and desire for her to stay with him was heart wrenching, but his desire to protect her was even stronger.

"Julia, please..."

She didn't know if he were pleading with her to leave, or to stay. Reluctantly Julia nodded, backing slowly from the room. Her being so close to him, in the same room with him, was obviously almost more than he could bear, was causing him a temptation he could not resist much longer. She had to remove that torture and temptation, so turned and did something she never thought herself capable of; Julia Hoffman left a patient in need. At the front door, Julia paused and glanced over her shoulder toward the drawing room, knowing she did what Barnabas wanted most because he did not want to harm her.

"... I'm sorry Barnabas..."

The door closed quietly behind her and Barnabas relaxed imperceptibly. Never had he ever been so close to harming Julia, to killing her, and it had taken all his self control and discipline to break off his attack and release her. He had promised Julia he would not harm her and he intended to keep that promise, no matter what.

As much as he wanted to deny it, Barnabas knew, for an instant - that he had tasted Julia's blood when his fangs scraped across her neck, breaking the skin, raising welts and releasing a minuscule amount of blood. Had he waited even a second longer, tasted more than the single drop on the end of his fangs, he would not have been able to stop himself. He desperately wanted Julia with him, knowing she alone could help him, but also knew she would not resist him, would allow him to take as much blood as he needed. Barnabas could not endanger her so, could not allow himself to give in to that temptation, even though this incident had, ironically, brought them even closer together. No. He would find some other way to manage his needs, to control his desires. He would not go to Julia.

Returning to Collinwood, Julia tried to distract herself, tried to think of anything but what had happened at the Old House. She couldn't. She'd been well away from Barnabas and the Old House before she realized her heart was pounding in her chest, in her throat, and she was sobbing with delayed fear. She'd had to stop and allow herself to calm down before going back to Collinwood. She was barely able to process the night's events herself, and was unprepared to try and explain why she was upset to anyone else.

Julia slipped up to her room and used the inadequate first aid kit in the medicine chest in the bathroom to cleanse and treat the welts caused by Barnabas' fangs. She'd left her medical bag in the Old House drawing room, so shaken by what had happened that she'd not even thought to retrieve it until now. Then she returned to the drawing room. She'd been there for only a short time when Roger arrived, expounding on his newly found fascination -- the room in the East Wing. He insisted on showing it to Julia, and she agreed, simply for the distraction she hoped it would provide. She followed Roger through the darkened hallways, and stood beside him inside the room, barely listening as he prattled on about the people he had seen in that room, and how vastly different their lives seemed to be.

Right arm crossed over her chest as she absently touched and caressed the welts on her neck through the fabric of her turtleneck blouse, Julia stared into the darkness of the room. She could distantly feel Barnabas with her, could vaguely sense what he was feeling and experiencing. For the moment he seemed to have his need for blood under control. Julia had to wonder if it was her imagination, or if, in that brief instant when Barnabas had been exposed to a minuscule amount of her blood from the scrapes on her neck, some kind of... link between them had been established. It was nothing like what she'd experienced when Tom Jennings controlled her, and had Barnabas not been in such strong need, Julia doubted she would have been aware of this tenuous contact. But she was aware of it and she again wondered how she had found the strength and resolve to leave Barnabas when he so obviously needed her. Perhaps he would have attacked her, drained her, killed her, but perhaps not. She had left him and she would never know.

Julia closed her eyes and touched the side of her neck again. She knew Barnabas had not wanted her to leave, but insisted because he feared for her safety, feared for her life. She had left Barnabas because he has asked her, implored her, perhaps even compelled her through this weak link she felt to him. Julia swallowed back tears and released a silent sigh. She should be with Barnabas now, but could not go to him because she tempted him, because she alone could be both his salvation and his destruction. Only with Barnabas could this situation be so ironic and so painful.

Nudged from her thoughts by Roger's question, Julia tried to convince him she was interested in what he had to say, and was grateful for Elizabeth's arrival, for it distracted Roger and saved her from further trying to deny the fact she was indeed very preoccupied. Julia distractedly listened while Roger began to explain the theory of Parallel Time and what he had witnessed in this room to his sister. Slowly Julia drifted away and toward the door. She could feel - sense - that Barnabas was calmer, more in control of himself and his needs. As much as she wanted to hurry back to him, Julia would not allow herself to return to the Old House. She would not tempt Barnabas so, and resigned herself to finding some other way to help him.

Barnabas...

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