Barnabas and Magda: Pain -- 4
Date: 9/8/98
From: Beverly LaCroix

Chapter 4
Pain

Seated in the candlelit drawing room of the Old House, the fireplace blazing, two men sat in quiet conversation. Outside was pleasantly quiet. It was cold, but clear. The sea could be heard with its heedless pounding over the rocky outline of the jagged shore.

Looking at Quentin, Barnabas locked eyes with him, and begin to talk. Quentin looking into the dark eyes of his cousin, felt as if he were drowning in the bottomless pools. He could hear Barnabas talking to him, but he sounded far away.

Quentin heard his own voice say his cousin's name. He wanted to say more, but he seemed unable to talk. His tongue felt very thick. He also seemed unable to move. He was struggling to move, when he felt Barnabas' hand grab him firmly behind the neck, and his other hand held his upper arm. Quentin knew it would be useless to continue the struggle with the steel grip of the vampire. He was trying to settle when he heard Barnabas' voice again, "Quentin, do not fight me. I will not harm you. You know that, don't you?" Barnabas asked in a soft mesmerizing tone of voice. Gazing into Barnabas' eyes, Quentin nodded affirmatively.

Barnabas stroked the back of Quentin's head affectionately, and released the steel grip on him. With that action, Quentin felt comforted. "Quentin, keep looking into my eyes. You are my best friend as well as my cousin. You are my descendant. As my descendant, and my cousin, I will protect you in any way possible. You do know that, don't you, Quentin?"

"Yes, I do, Barnabas," Quentin replied in a voice that was barely audible. Barnabas' superior vampiric hearing allowed him to hear him clearly.

"Quentin, as your blood cousin, and your ancestor, I love you like a brother. We are truly brothers in darkness. Both of us have been cut down in the prime of our lives by curses neither one of us deserved. Cursed by vengeful, evil and cruel beings, who have dared to walk upon this earth and call themselves human. We have a special and very unique kinship, and I feel a protective love towards you, Quentin. David Collins is our descendant, and because of your vengeful evil ghost in 1969, he is going to die.. I love David also, Quentin. He is a delightful boy. I love him as you love Jamison. I do not want David to die." Barnabas stopped talking abruptly, for he felt Quentin's fear, and could see it springing forth in his eye."

Quentin could not submerge the fear that shot through him. Barnabas is going to kill me, because of David, Quentin thought frantically. He was unaware of the storm that had started to rage around the Old House, as his fear was consuming him. His cousin's dark powers were descending on him like an avalanche, and he understood for the first time the true magnitude and extent of the powers this being before him possessed. At that moment Quentin was seeing him as an omnipotent supernatural being, and not as his cousin. The fear was soon coupled with foolishness at how badly he had underestimated Barnabas Collins.

The fear overtaking any other thought, just as he felt it would suffocate him, he heard Barnabas' voice, again soothing, soft, deep speaking to him: "Quentin, don't be afraid. I am not going to harm you." Satisfied that the fear had left Quentin, he began to talk to him quietly of Angelique's curse over 100 years ago.

"Angelique's curse was the cause of my little sister Sarah's death. She should not have died so young. She was so sweet and loving" --

Quentin, gazing into Barnabas' eyes, felt the drowning sensation again. Then he saw what Barnabas was saying! His voice sounded far away, as the pictures began to play out the horrors Barnabas was talking about. The dogs were starting to howl, but Quentin could not take his eyes away from Barnabas'.

He saw a little girl -- he recognized her from the family history book. It was Sarah, Barnabas' little sister. He could hear her.

She was outside running, calling "Barnabas, come back!" Quentin watched in astonishment as the scene unfolded before him. He could feel Sarah's joy at seeing and discovering that Barnabas was home, and not in England as her father and mother had told her. She knew he would come back. He would not leave her or Josette.

Her enjoyment was contagious, while she was playing the hide-and-seek game, that she thought Barnabas was playing with her. Sarah felt special, because no one else knew that Barnabas was home, but her. Quentin watched her running through the dark cold night with nothing but her night clothes on. She kept running, calling for Barnabas, but, of course, he was not to be found.

Quentin recognized the old family mausoleum, and the joy he had felt with Sarah was replaced by an overwhelming sadness, as he thought of Carl. He didn't want to see anymore, but the powerful gaze of the vampire held him prisoner.

The scene unfolded with the little girl inside the mausoleum, and he heard her scolding her brother, telling him to stop hiding and come out and take her home. The scolding soon turned to pleading. The gate slammed closed. Sarah tried to open it, to no avail. She was trapped! Quentin could sense the evil spirit of the vengeful witch, watching her spiteful curse play out its unholy words. "Anyone who loves you will die."

Then the little girl had grown tired, and fell asleep by the gate. The clanging of the gate opening, that had held tightly closed when she had tried to get out hours earlier, woke her. The joy that had flooded her heart when she recognized her brother was soon turned to horror, when she saw the blood dripping from the mouth of the unnatural being who looked like her brother, but didn't. Her flight into the stormy pre-dawn sent Barnabas running after her only to be stopped at the entrance of the mausoleum by the rising sun. Quentin felt Barnabas' rage at his helplessness. Then he saw Sarah crouched down behind the tomb of Jeremiah Collins, rain pouring down, drenching her, and she tried to draw herself up so tight no one would see her.

Then he saw the fleeting shadows of his ancestors around the little girl, ministering to her, and Quentin knew innately it was futile. Sarah Collins was dying. The gladness that he felt when she was found and taken home was replaced by despair.

Then he saw Barnabas holding her, begging her forgiveness, then the little girl embracing him, and telling him she loved him and always would. Barnabas held her as her fragile life thread was severed, and he heard his agony as he said no. no, and the blood tears were streaking down his face. Quentin could feel his sadness so strongly that tears were threatening in his own eyes, but just as he thought he couldn't bear this overwhelming despair any longer, the scene changed again.

A beautiful woman with black hair cascading in ringlets was standing in the tower room looking down -- it was Barnabas. He was in his coffin. The woman was in the drawing room writing a note, then mixing some powder in a sherry. Oh, no, no, no! thought Quentin. My god, it's Naomi Collins, Barnabas' mother! He was thinking she really is incredibly beautiful, but yet so sad. So very sad.

The scene continued to play out its fatal ending. Barnabas was in the tower room with his mother. Quentin heard Barnabas begging his mother not to love him, as useless an act as it was. Then Barnabas, at his mother's request to hold him one more time, and Barnabas' anguished cry as he realized what was going to happen. Again, Quentin felt the presence of the evil spirit of the vengeful witch hovering in the tower room waiting for her evil to spread its disease of death. Quentin wanted to reach out and remove its foul presence from the air where his beautiful ancestor lay now dead.

The blood tears that had streamed down Barnabas' face when Sarah died were nothing more than a shadow behind the murderous rage on Barnabas' face as he held his dead mother.

Thunder clapped, lightening streaked across the sky, the wind howling in competition with the dog's howling at their Master's anger and grief did not cease as the lightening continued to streak across the sky lighting up the drawing room, illuminating the strange scene of the two men looking at one another, unmoving. The only sign of life was the tears streaming silently down the younger man's face.

With the clap of the thunder, Quentin was now looking at Josette Collins. The tragedy of Josette was one of the many legends that surrounded the Collins family, so Quentin never knew which ones were true or not. Now, he would see. Josette Collins was a very beautiful, elegant woman. Quentin could see that, while he was watching her at the edge of Widow's Hill. The wild winds that surrounded that area were whipping through her hair, causing it to blow wildly. Quentin saw that she was going to jump, then he saw Barnabas. Barnabas was trying to prevent her from dying. He was going to leave with her this very night. She was going to be his eternal bride, then -- oh no, no, no,nonononono, Quentin watched in horror as she jumped! He heard Barnabas over the wind screaming her name over and over. He heard the torment that Barnabas felt, and as long as he lived ,the pain he saw etched on Barnabas' face, when Josette jumped off that treacherous cliff into the raging rocky waters of the Atlantic Ocean -- that pain would be a part of Quentin as long as he walked upon this earth. Again, he felt the witch's presence looming about as a spectator in a theater -- a theater of death. He felt the glee this wretched spirit of death felt at watching Barnabas' misery grow with the death of each loved one.

Quentin felt it then. The pain, he had been absorbing Barnabas' pain, it was hurting. Hurting intensely, cutting through him like a knife twisting deep inside. He didn't think he could take this pain any longer, but it was continual, gnawing away little by little, never ceasing.. He wanted to die, but he could not die. The desolation and loneliness, stop it! STOP IT! Quentin was screaming silently. The pain was driving him insane. Just as he could feel the sobs rising up from deep within, the picture changed rapidly, Barnabas knew what was happening to Quentin, but he knew had to make Quentin truly understand his pain.

Quentin saw Barnabas take his mother's jewels. These were the jewels of the legend. They were rumored to have been part of Barnabas' inheritance that he took to England, also the more popular version was they were buried somewhere Eagle Hill Cemetery. Quentin watched Barnabas take the jewels into the Old House, and go deep down into the catacombs and hide them for what he thought would be forever.

Quentin recognized them as part of the ones he had presented to his grandmother. They sparkled and twinkled, and anyone with a practiced eye could tell they were worth a fortune. They were as beautiful and befitting as the woman whom they had graced. The son who grieved for his mother, and would always grieve had some sort of consolation knowing that he had a part of her in those jewels. He thought he had insured their safety as he slept, chained in his eternal prison, no one would wear his mother's jewels. In his mind, there was no one worthy. Oh *my* *God!* Quentin thought as the truth occurred to him.

Quentin remembered a scene, before he had met Barnabas, Sandor and Magda laughing and joking about some dead ancestor of the Collins being buried with a fortune They hadn't known he was listening, and gave it scant attention anyway. As Quentin was having these thoughts it hit him --

He saw Barnabas nod slightly, never breaking the gaze. Quentin then saw himself and Magda uttering a curse, laughing at him. Then he felt that pain his body went through, stretching and tearing, bones cracking -- Quentin was trying to scream, the pain was so agonizing, as he watched his body go through that agony and become something unholy and vile. He could feel his need for the hunt. He could smell human blood, then he tasted the human and wanted to hurt them, kill them, mutilate them, eat at their flesh in an orgiastic bloodfeast. He felt satiated. Then he saw his victims, saw himself the morning after remembering nothing. The unyielding pain was back, only this time it was his exclusively.

Time swirled, the unholy animal always a part of it, then it stopped. It changed to a Collinwood he did not recognize. He saw himself, evil ,menacing, laughter coming from him, reverberating the empty halls of Collinwood. He could hear his gramophone playing his funeral dirge, "Quentin's Theme," never stopping. He was overlooking the boy that looked like Jamison! What was Jamison doing in those strange clothes? No. It was David Collins, instinctively Quentin knew he was dying, and would not live out the day. All my fault, kept going through his head, intermixed with the words of the Gypsy's curse. Magda! There was no more, only wailing and darkness, then silence, through time. It was gone. All gone. He knew then when David Collins dies, Collinwood would be no more. David was the future of Collinwood. He could not imagine a world without Collinwood. His Ghost haunting and terrifying that young boy filled him with an overpowering disgust.

No more Collinwood, no more Collins family. All gone, because of -- Oh, God! he thought as it was dawning on him -- Barnabas released him from his gaze. The tears that had been flowing continued, as the sobs deep from inside his soul erupted giving birth to his own pain. The pain that he thought he had suppressed so well now was unleashed. Convulsing with agony, making inhuman sounds from his grief and pain, he felt Barnabas' embrace, holding and soothing him until there were no more tears.

"Barnabas, I didn't know." Quentin said as the tears were threatening again.

"I know," Barnabas said softly, still holding Quentin in his embrace.

"How can you live with that kind of torment?" Quentin asked Barnabas.

"Quentin, you will learn to deal with it as I have," Barnabas replied softly, now moving away from Quentin.

"Barnabas, I don't think I can stand this pain. So much death, and blood, and more death. I can't stand it. It is eating at me, " Quentin said as his voice started to rise, and he was threatening to start break down again.

Barnabas went to Quentin, and took ahold of his arms and said "Quentin, look at me. Look *at* *me*!" Barnabas then commanded.

Quentin did as Barnabas commanded, hesitantly looking into his eyes, afraid he would see more despair, but all he saw was the compassion and empathy of his cousin. He could feel the tenderness and love of a brother, a father, and, yes, a best friend, who wanted nothing more than to protect him, and to prevent his pain. Barnabas was well aware of this sensitive side of Quentin, and had sought to bring it to the forefront, when he had studied his face, in deciding whether to answer his question about his relationship with Magda. Barnabas knew that Quentin had only been concerned for him, and that is why he had answered his question. Barnabas knew that Quentin would be okay by morning, but he wouldn't forget.

"Quentin, you're going to be all right," Barnabas told him.

"Barnabas, I'm sorry. I think now would be a good time for that brandy, " Quentin said. Quentin noticed that the storm was subsiding and the animals had quieted down, now if only the hurt would stop. It wasn't quite as intense, but it was still there. He didn't want to go back to Collinwood. He wanted nothing more than to stay here and talk with Barnabas until sunrise, and then go upstairs and sleep in Josette's Room. Right now it was a very comforting thought.

Giving voice to the way he felt, Barnabas assured him it would be fine. Magda was gone until tomorrow evening. Quentin would be there for him during the day.

Quentin got his answer. Maybe he'd learn to mind his own business, he thought sarcastically. He and Barnabas were indeed the Dark Cousins They deserved that title, but he would never believe that anyone deserved to suffer the pain and loss that Barnabas suffered. And Barnabas did not believe that Quentin should have to suffer anymore than he already had.

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