Originally written for smut69 challenge on Livejournal. As one would guess it contains sex. If that's a problem, don't read.

Summary: Gabriel remembers. Sort of.

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Memory (is things which never existed)

Surprisingly it did not start until about a year after her death. His memories of Transylvania and of her quirky smile had been growing dimmer and the grief of her passing had transformed into a sad memory instead of the sharp anguish of the first months. She was rarely mentioned in their conversations anymore. She was dead and the grief had passed and part of Gabriel felt relieved.

Until in the quiet hours he started thinking about her. The first time was meaningless. A numbing train ride across the continent, dark forests passing his window. He thought how she would sit in the uncomfortable bench. Would she fidget or fall asleep like Carl snoring opposite of him. He could see her pretty clearly now, sitting next to him and hooking her heels against the edge of the seat. He would tell her that if she kept doing that she would break her shoes. Her smile would be condescending, but he did not have any reply ready because she was not really there. At the time he though little of his night time musings and the next morning they were forgotten all together, when a new evil rose before them to be defeated.

But she did not stay away. His memory conjured up images which never existed. On Sundays she would sit next to him in the church. In the back pew where he sneaked after the service had already begun. She would lean against him and his side would be warm long after he left the church. At night he would keep the oil lamp flickering as late as possible so she could flop down next to him, her dark hair spreading out on the sheets like sunset.

Sometimes he would touch himself, angry hands fisting his cock and they would be her hands; strong and sure. He body would be luminous in the lamplight, shadows and curves defined in her flesh. She would kiss him and her lips would not be cold. They would be warm and open and he could shudder and die and she would hold onto him. His palms would ghost over his own flesh and she would watch from the foot of the bed, smiling in rapture. It was so easy to feel her hands on him instead of his own, to arch and come into her body instead of the empty air of his room.

She would never fully disappear. She would lie next to him after, her cheeks aflame. He would always see her in trains and by the sea. He could see her in the quiet hours where his mind would have nothing to do. Gabriel does not know if it is grief or memory, but he does not want to let her go yet.