Hellfire burns. Dean forgets this.

My name is Victoria Winters. My journey should have ended. My journey which sends me tumbling through time and drops me into the arms of the descendants of the Reverend Trask to enlist me to accomplish their one goal: kill Barnabas Collins.

Morbid though it was, Carolyn had always found something romantic in the story of the widows: the chords struck of a love mourned, one she'd never truly had, and the hope in waiting for it to return.

It's strange to hear a statement of surrender from her. At least, that's how Vicki takes it. How she has to take it. The last thing she can think of is the fact that Julia might use this to her advantage of any sort, to manipulate her, to ruin the happiness that she's only just managed to realize tonight. One-shot. Explicit, etc.

She sees herself, rising up from the narrow box, flowers pressed into her dark hair - the very ones she'd meant to give Barnabas only minutes before. And now Barnabas has been her murderer.

Vicki stares at the ground, at the shot glass she's turning in her fingers, while Julia's doing her best to peer at her, to see inside her head, to uncover those secrets she remembers accusing her of at dinner. One-shot. Julia/Vicki. Kind of.

Three sets of eyes in the picture frame seem to stare at him, and Roger swears he can see the faces twitch into just the right amount of disdain.

Nobody else can tell that Vicki isn't Vicki anymore. And he's afraid of her.

She can see the cliff, she can hear the waves, and the wind seems to lift her - until two arms drag her back down and hold her tightly.

She was never the sort of girl for secret affairs. She thought that was the stuff of romance novels, not reality. 1966. Roger/Victoria. One-shot.

They hadn't really been so similar, so equally appealing, had they? One-shot. One-sided Turpin/Todd. Kind of.

The main goal is to make Maggie relax and laugh, and it seems to be working. 1966. Burke/Maggie-esque.

There's just her and him and her enchanting smiles and the hem of her dress dusting his shins as they spin and the mirrors. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

Victoria became something different to him, more than a drowning slip of a girl wild with the cold, but more of a relic. An old figure of the house that was untouchable. Quentin/Victoria.

If the two of them should collide somewhere in the dark, who would be there to blame them if they held on as hard as they could? AU. 1970 Parallel Time. Quentin/Victoria.

Quentin knows that he shouldn't let her say these things. That he should have dismissed her from his house the moment that he saw her lounging in the drawing room. But he doesn't. AU. 1970 Parallel time. Quentin/Victoria.

Neither of them had been confidantes, as Maggie had suspected. Instead, she'd been some kind of turncoat. One-shot, Burke/Maggie-esque?

It's been forced into their minds that the sun rises and sets only for Angelique; Angelique was the one everyone loved, the one everyone knew would rise to the occasion. 1970 Parallel Time.

AU. A vampire returns to town in search of a witch just as Victoria Winters is hired to keep watch over Collinwood in the event of anything supernatural, sparking a chain of events exceeding her dreams or nightmares.

The way she looks at him makes him second-guess his intentions. Original series, Roger/Victoria, one-shot.

He's had conquests of the sort before, but he can't recall one that's affected him so deeply. Original series, Roger/Victoria, one-shot.

Friendship was far from what Angelique wanted, and Barnabas certainly hadn't been willing to settle for that in Martinique. Why had everything changed in a few short months? Original-series, one-shot.