A/N: I'm sorry for taking almost a month to update. I plan to write more often from now on, so hopefully chapter 3 will be up a bit faster. Also, I am working on a Dracula/Vanessa fanfic. Enjoy!

A pulse rushed through Dracula. Scorching his veins and arteries from within. Igniting sparks of light in his vision. The bloodied floor of the butchery seemed to give out beneath him like an eroded precipice. With a gasp, he released Sir Malcolm's throat from his grip and keeled over.

Eyes wide, Dracula bellowed, "Vanessa!"

His gaze darted around the slaughterhouse – from meat hooks, to the corpses that covered every surface, to Vanessa's wounded yet hopeful saviours. Mortals were so very entertaining. Their lives were inconsequential. The guns and knives that they clutched close to their chests were nothing more than toys to Dracula. These people were not of his concern.

There seemed to be no sign of his beloved, until a silvery gown glinted atop the balcony in the dim light. Since Vanessa presented her bare neck to him, Dracula had felt the blood tie between them – tangible as a cord from his body to hers. An agonising shock had just coursed down that bond, and he now understood why: Vanessa stood with one hand entwined with Mr Chandler's.

Dracula rose and dusted off his trousers, masking the fear throbbing in his skull. "My dearest–"

"I am not yours." She snapped, the whites of her eyes visible through the gloom. "I am beyond your control."

He barely concealed a flinch at the tone of her voice. Not one hour ago Vanessa had spoken aloofly to Dracula, as though she was not in one plane of existence, instead hovering halfway between earth and Hell. She was no longer hovering. Every fibre of her being was alight and unwavering.

Regaining his cold composure, Dracula asked, "So whose control are you under, Vanessa? That of Lupus Dei? Would you rather be dominated by your tyrannical God than embraced by me?"

"Nobody controls me; I belong to myself." She asserted with a threatening serenity.

"Why do you reject my proposal of love? That is all I have ever extended to you, Vanessa." He reasoned, adopting the familiar demeanour of Dr Sweet.

It was as natural as breathing to Dracula – slipping from one guise into another. He had spent nearly half of a millennium creating personae for mortals to be drawn towards. Flies to a spider's web. They never suspected a thing, even when his fangs pierced their throats. It was as if they so fervently ached for comfort that they decided to make his web a home. Vanessa, however, was no mere mortal. Every pitiful creature Dracula lured had been exploited to gain proximity to her. In these four centuries, he had toppled empires, drenched the countryside in blood, and crossed seas and continents. Yet, if Vanessa turned against him, none of it would matter.

"The love that you offer is laced with poison. To give my heart to you was to destroy myself and everything on this earth. That is not love."

Dracula paused. "You forget yourself, Vanessa. Come with me, and all will be well again."

"You are lying. From the second you spoke to me of unloved creatures, you have deceived me. Every sweet word that rolled off your tongue meant nothing. While I aimed a gun at your chest, you vowed to accept me as I am, yet now you attempt to coerce me. I submitted to you; I lowered the weapon." From beneath the thin sleeve of her gown, Vanessa raised Ethan's revolver. "I will not make the same mistake twice."

He could not lose her. Dracula raised his hands in a desperate bid to recover her sympathy. "Do you know what you are doing, my love?"

"I do."

The cocking of the hammer sent a chill down his spine. The Wolf of God had taught her how to shoot. It made Dracula's blood boil, that he was to be killed with a mortal weapon, in a slaughterhouse, at the hands of she who he had fought for and belonged to him by right.

Vanessa's hands were steady as she held the gun. "You desire my flesh – to have and to hold – and I relinquished it to you. I now reclaim my body as I reclaimed my soul from your brother. You may have shown me kindness and affirmation. But I need not seek your approval. My scars, my grief, my ugliness, and all of my human imperfections are my own. I accept them as part of me, and so does God. That is enough for me."

Fuming, Dracula snarled, "You cannot kill me! I am the Dragon! Even after you pull the trigger, I shall live on in your nightmares, in stories whispered under the cloak of night, in the cruel souls of the night creatures. You cannot murder the embodiment of evil."

"You are very talented at making these empty threats, these banal proclamations of wickedness beyond comprehension, but they will fade. Like the promises you made me and the affection you displayed, they mean nothing. How can someone live on if they have never been alive?"

"You are my inferior, Vanessa. You are my property." Dracula's dark eyes hardened. "I command you to lower the gun."

A silence fell upon the butchery, hanging in the air like the nauseating fog outside. All eyes flickered towards Vanessa. They watched expectantly, apprehensively. Sir Malcolm searched her face and stance for any foretelling of her next action, but there was none. She was made of stone. His gaze instead moved to Ethan, who stood grasping Vanessa's free hand. A calmness had settled into his features – there were no creases around his eyes nor any consternation lurking within them. When Vanessa finally proceeded, descending the balcony stairs, Ethan did not appear fearful. Malcolm trusted his ease.

Vanessa paced towards the monster who fooled her into believing he loved her. The monster who transformed her friend into a creature beyond recognition. The monster who had pursued her since the beginning of days. She would be pursued no longer.

"Who are you? Dracula? Dr Alexander Sweet? The Dragon?" A deadly smile flashed across Vanessa's face. "Whatever you may be called, I am the Mother of Evil. The Scorpion. No one commands me."

It was over in an instant. The shot rang out, momentarily deafening everyone in the butchery, and there was an almighty flash from the barrel. Blood spurted from Dracula's mouth before he could howl in defeat. A scarlet flower bloomed through the cloth of his shirt.

Everyone glanced upwards in surprise as sunlight slowly began to filter through the grimy windows of the slaughterhouse. Vanessa locked eyes with Dracula as his skin began to flake and drift through the air. Face contorted with silent indignation, the Dragon gradually disintegrated.

"Ashes to ashes." Vanessa murmured under her breath once nothing remained of him.

Ethan appeared at her side, enveloping her thin hand in his. "Dust to dust." He inhaled deeply. "I don't believe he had a soul that we can pray for."

"He didn't, and I wouldn't pray for his salvation if he did." She whispered.

It was quiet inside Sir Malcolm's study as they huddled beside the hearth. Vanessa cradled her full teacup in her hands, though it had turned cold long ago. She knew it would be some time until her appetite returned.

Ethan and Victor sat silently in armchairs while Malcolm rested against the mantle above the fireplace. Catriona and Dr Seward had left hours before, but promised to visit in the near future. They were unable to walk away fully after what had transpired that evening. How could they be? The allure of the demimonde beckoned to them all.

"What will happen now?" Dr Frankenstein contemplated aloud. Vanessa noticed his hand twitching and wondered when he had last succumbed to his addiction. "The vampires are gone from this world, we know as much, but what other creatures wait ahead?"

"God only knows." Ethan sighed. His countenance earnest, he turned to face her. "All I know is that, when it comes, we will put an end to it, just as we always have."

"How can you be so sure?" Vanessa rasped.

"Third time's the charm?" He suggested with a chuckle.

She looked away from him and into the crackling flames. The woman she once was would have laughed at his admirable attempt to console her at a time like this. Even now, she yearned to do so. When was the last time she had laughed?

Ethan leaned over and took her hand. "I believe in you, in what you're capable of. I believe in all of us. That is why I'm so sure."

Vanessa managed a weak smile in response. One day she would regain confidence in herself. One day she would laugh again. However, for now, she needed to heal.

"We have just won a battle. Perhaps this once we should celebrate our reunion rather than immediately worrying about the future." Sir Malcolm remarked, warmly squeezing Vanessa's shoulder.

Gazing at Malcolm, she said, "Thank you – for coming to my aid. We may not be bound by blood, but you are my father in the sense of the word and in my sentiment." Vanessa surveyed the room, beaming faintly at the closeness of the people she loved most. "We make for a very singular family, do we not?"