A Child's Dream

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Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters related to the VHD movie. Kale however is mine. If you wish to use her as a character in one of your stories, please contact me for permission. Also, Edward, the young red haired Dhampire, D’s little brother, is owned by Cassa Dellinger, and makes his story known in her tale, Coming home. Soon to be located at Fanfiction.net.

NOTE: This is a work of fan fiction. So please read on and enjoy.

WARNING: The following work of fiction contains explicit sex and sexual references that may be uncomfortable for some. If you are under 18 (or whatever age is appropriate for your location), HIT YOUR BROWSER BACK BUTTON NOW. If you find explicit sex offensive, please don\'t offend yourself by reading further.
thorthor: Charlotte (AKA jemstone5)
Email: duckey@ns.sympatico.ca
Feedback: Please, yes, lots
Forward to others: would be flattered if you did.
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Chapter 1 Her Sanctuary

It was going to be a hard winter. The snow was already five feet deep and the storm showed no signs of letting up. She hated it when it ed. ed. Not that it had, only when it hadn\'t stopped falling. She couldn\'t go out then, and when she did, it was a real struggle to get through. It had snowed a good three feet some time before, and then it rained a little, leaving a hard crust for her to walk on. She liked it then. She could run and slide all over the place. But today. Today it was huge white fluffy flakes that fell. So thick in the air that she could hardly see the well in the back yard.

She sighed deeply, resting her chin on her arms. She\'d been kneeling on the floor, gazing out the window for some time. But it was ok. She was in the attic. It was a bit chilly, but it was ok. She had her sweater, and no one thought to look for her here. Not that there weren\'t enough people in the house to help out as it was. There was of course her mom and dad, whom she\'d tried desperately to ignore. He wasn\'t really her father. He was to all her other siblings, and the baby that was yet to be born, but no to her. She didn\'t know who her father was. And her mom wouldn\'t, or couldn\'t, tell her. She wasn\'t sure how she\'d found out that Montel wasn\'t her father, she just knew. \"Squirt! Where are you!?\"

She quickly dashed across the attic, moving as quietly as the occasional creaking boards would let her, and latched the attic door. She didn\'t want to be found. Not yet anyway, and certainly not by her older brother Patrick. Peter maybe, but not Patrick. The two boys were twins, and when they stood side by side, you couldn\'t tell which was which. But you could when you got to know them. The two were as opposite as day and night. Patrick was a lot like his father. Brash and mean. If a person could have all the conceivable bad personality traits, and his twin all the good ones, that\'s what happed with Patrick and Peter.

Where Patrick was always on her case about doing this or doing that, pushing her around and sometimes even striking her; Peter was totally different. The first pleasant memory she clung to was when she was three, she\'d fallen off her pony and was scared to get back on. Peter sat on the ground in the paddock with her, just talking. He told her how scared he was when he\'d first been thrown. \"You mean Pacer throwed you?\" she asked in total amazement. Pacer was Peter\'s cyber horse. A rather old DL3, but in really good shape. She use to ride in front of Peter to school and was the only one who thought that Peter could never fall off.

\"No. Not Pacer,\" he said, patting the pony\'s face. \"This was a pony I had when I was little. But you know what?\"

\"What?\" she asked.

\"I didn\'t let it beat me. I got back on. I wanted to run, as fast as the wind, and leave everything behind. Especially homework.\" She laughed. She hated homework, she couldn\'t get her mind around the work. She often fell asleep in class. That\'s when Patrick would take her home, and he always made her walk. \"But...if you\'ot got going to ride him, I guess there\'s no point in keeping him. Dad will just have to sell him.\"

\"NO!! Pick me up Peter! I wana ride!\"

\"Ok. Here we go!\"

She still fell off from time to time, but she was getting better. She would ride her pony proudly next to Peter on their way to school, imagining that no one else in the world existed, despite his twin\'s pleas to pick up the pace. Had Patrick been teaching her, she would not have gotten passed the saddling stage.

She made her way back to the window, and watched the snow come down. Outside, near the barn, she could make out the snow-covered silhouettes of the live horses her family was in charge of. Her brother Brian, herding them into the barn where his father waited for them, she was sure. Montel worked for a rich family as a barn hand for un-cyberized horses. Which is how she got her pony. The boss would order horses from somewhere, and usually end up with a pony in the mix. Because ponies weren\'t worth the money to cyberize, he\'d send them to the families of his workers, as a bonus. People sometimes viewed the Colaros, the rich family, as stuck up, rude, and always getting what they wanted. Granted they were shrewd business people, but they were nice. She got a pony, how bad could they be?

\"Aceline?!\" it was her sister Gail. \"Where are you!? Mom needs you in the kitchen! NOW!!\"

She ignored her. Her mom was making bread today, and Gail was tne tne to help. Her arms were longer and stronger. Whenever Aceline helped, she got covered in flour, the dough was all lumpy, and usually half on the floor. Her mom always hit her with the mixing spoon and would send her to the barn to help Montel. That was something she just refused to do.

She moved across the attic to the window on the other side of the house, facing the garden area off the side of the house. At least that\'s what would be there if the snow had cov covered it. She liked working in the garden. The ground had a nice feel to it, and the smell was wonderful. Sometimes in the summer, when she had trouble sleeping at night, she\'d sneak out to the garden and lay down between the rows just staring up at the stars. After a while she\'d feel tired and return to bed, and no one really knew, accept Peter. He always knew when she did something like that. She was the only one of the children who would insist on helping in the garden. And of course, her mom would be mean and send her off somewhere else, to do something she hated. But she was a kid, she had to do as her mother said.

The window had a bench in front of it, kind of an accident of the architecture when the house was built. At least that\'s what she figured. There was no real reason for it being there. She liked that window best, cause the view outside on a clear day was endless. Rolling hills, and in the summer, swaying grains in the summer breeze. She\'d brought up her bed quilt to wrap up in, it was colder near this window. The insulation around it needed to be replaced, and one of the lower panes was cracked, and a draft would work its way between the glass. She\'d brought her doll too, just for something to hold. It was her only doll, she didn\'t have any other toys. And she couldn\'t let her sisters know she had this one either. It was one of their throw aways. She\'d rescued it on one of her night haunts around the house. It had blond hair, a sharp contrast to her long black hair. She styled it like her own, most of the time, braided pigtails. Though the dolls hair barely reached past its shoulders, hers was to the middle of her back. And she\'d hide the scissors whenever she saw them, cause she knew that someone in the house would try and cut her hair. Not that they had in the past, but it was something she didn\'t want to take the chance of. She\'d tied the doll\'s hair with bright red ribbons, just like her own. She liked red. There was something warm and comforting about it. The doll wore a blue dress, she hated it, and she would say the doll did too. But it was the only dress she had for it. To make matters worse, her mother had made a dress for one of her older sisters, in the same style, and color to match the doll. When she grew to fit into it, her mother would make her wear it out on special days.

She\'d begged her mother to make her a dress like it in red, but she just ignored her mad made hear tar the hand-me-down gown. Also like the doll, she had light blue eyes. Though she covered her face from her nose to her chin with a scarf. Saying she had a terrible scar, and didn\'t want to show anyone. There was really nothing wrong. She didn\'t always wear it, only recently. The little lie she\'d told was sufficient to past events for her to gway way with. She hated lying. There were kids at school who lied from time to time, and they always got caught. She made sure that she\'d never have to. She didn\'t want to be like that. But recently, she had to tell this little fib. Her parents didn\'t care, it was less of her face for them to see. She was sure her parents hated her. They didn\'t seem to care what had happened the previous fall. She curled up under her quilt and gazed out the window, remembering her recent adventure. It was one she\'d never forget.

She\'d gone with some of her family to Chesapeake Bay by train, all the way from Louiston. The Boss was with them and they were to rent a wagon upon arrival, and head for the docks and pick up a shipment of supplies and parts for the cyber plant, while he went around the town on business. They\'d been delayed on the trip several times, and got to the docks two weeks late. Which was ok. The ship hadn\'t arrived yet, and was feared lost on the crossing. Mr. Colaros put the family up in a rooming house to return when he\'d completed his business. They\'d been waiting for about two weeks, when people said the ship they had come to meet, had been towed in.

She watched from the wagon, trying her best to stay out of the way, as the workers unloaded material and animals from the ship. The ship itself was a mess. All its side-spikes were bent or missing, and there were several patches in the hull. A most noticeable five foot wide one on the dock side. That\'s when she saw them. They didn\'t really fit the sea going type, and she was right. The woman was asleep, as he carried her out of the harbormaster\'s office. She heard people say that they had jumped their horses off the deck of the ship, even before it was properly tied up.

Others were talking about how strange the man looked, and how he was dressed. It was then her brother Patrick knocked her over with a sack of cloth he\'d tossed at her. She quickly threw it back, and ran off into the town. No one followed her.

She couldn\'t remember where the boarding house was, and the streets had become so busy so quickly, with the news of the missing ship being brought in, that she climbed the fire stairs of a nearby bar, to one of its upper balconies, and then climbed the trellis from there to the roof. All just to get away from the people. Peter had often teased her about being part tree rat, by the way she kept climbing over things.

She\'d been up there a while when she noticed the man from the docks riding down the street. His wife, she suspected, carried gently in his arms across his saddle, a second horse tied on and following behind them. She wasn\'t\' sure why she wanted to, but found it rather fun to follow him over the connecting rooftops. At one point he looked up, but she was well hidden behind some balcony plants.

She got a good look at his face then. She could see he had long dark hair, but where the shadow of the building she was on lay across him, she couldn\'t tell its color. His face, from what she could make out, was handsomely young and smooth. But he was very pale, almost sheet white. She decided he wasn\'t feeling well after the crossing. The woman was rather pretty, at least what of her she could see, and of darker complexion. She was obviously tall, maybe like her mother, at five feet. He, however, was a mystery. His cloak around him hid his features, so she couldn\'t guess how tall he was. She liked this game. It was like a treasure hunt. One only she could play.

She followed the pair down the street, and around corners, quickly climbing down to the street, and following at a distance on the ground. The man would stop at one or two bars, or an inn. Sometimes going in, and sometimes not. Always moving on. Then he stopped at a gate outside a pretty house. The sign read Delilah\'s Tearoom, and boasted a moderate flower garden out front. She knew then where she was. The window of her family\'s lodging over looked the pretty building, directly across the street.

She watched the man dismount once more, carefully balancing the woman in his arms, he led the horses through the front gates, his head nearly reaching the top of the sign. At last she had a reference to go by as to how tall he was. All she had to do was find out how tall the sign was. She watched from behind some bushes as a young woman admitted the pair to the house, and closed the door, a barn hand coming around and leading the horses away.

When she was sure no one inside the teahouse would notice her, she charged purposely across to the sign, staring up at the inside edge of the framing, where the man\'s head had reached. \"Little Aceline?\" She turned slowly, waiting for the voice to be angry with her, but when she looked up, she saw it was her father\'s boss, Mr. Colaros. The man knelt down to her. \"What are you doing out here alone?\" he asked.

\"I couldn\'t find my way,\" she said honestly. \"But I remembered this.\" She pointed to the teahouse.

\"I see. Where\'s your father?\"

\"At the docks. I was in the way! So I left.\" She couldn\'t help but cry a little.

\"Its all right,\" he said, wiping her tears. \"Its ok. How would you like to accompany me today?\"

\"I\'d only be in the way.\"

\"No. You see. When a gentleman goes out on the town, it is only right that a pretty young lady goes with him. Come on. There\'s something I\'ve wanted to do. Which is why I\'ve insisted your father bring you. Care to come along to find out? I promise you will love it.\"

She took his outstretched hand, really not wanting to return to the boarding house. At least this way, if her father asked, she could honestly tell him, she was with his boss. But before he led her away, she turned back to the sign. \"Mr. C?\" She always had trouble pronouncing his name, so he told her to call him Mr. C. \"How high is that?\"

\"How high what?\"

\"To the top of the \'D\' on that sign?\"

Mr. Colaros stepped closer. He stood about six foot one, just slightly taller than her father. But still he wasn\'t near the top of her mark. \"That? Almost seven feet I\'d say. Why?\"

\"Just wondering,\" she sighed contently. That\'s how tall he was. She was impressed. Mr. Colaros led her off down the street, away from where the rooming house would still be that night.

He treated her to breakfast, a much nicer one than what they\'d been served at the boarding house. She then sat quietly at the conference table when Mr. Colaros met with the men he\'d come to see. She was given some paper and colored pencils to occupy herself, and was promised a special treat when the meeting ended.

She drew pictures of the silver and black horses the man she\'d followed had, and drew pictures of the two lovers, with her between them. It didn\'t seem right somehow that the two drawings stood alone on the page. Though they were side by side, they seemed lonely. Adding herself to the picture seemed right somehow, and she liked it.

She took the drawing, quietly folded it and put it in her pocket. It wasn\'t very good. She was no artist. After all, she\'d only recently turned five. But to her, it was priceless, and no one deserved to see it till she finished it. She\'d just picked up her pencil again, when Mr. Colaros knelt down next to her, admiring the picture of one of the horses. \"Very nice,\" he boasted. Though really it was like any other 5-year-old\'s drawing, but the praise was welcome for her efforts. Peter was the only one who came to mind who praised her.

\"Thank you,\" she answered with a smile.

\"You weren\'t too board I hope?\" She shook her head vigorously No. \"Good. Now I understand you turned five years old a while ago?\" She nodded, beaming with delight at his pleasantly proud tone. Peter had bought a chocolate cupcake for her birthday cake. No one in her family celebrated birthdays, so hers passing with little fuss was no big surprise. The cupcake was nice though. The day was like a milestone for her. \"Well,\" Mr. Colaros continued, \"I would like to buy you something. I\'ve done the same for all the children of my workers on their 5th birthday, and still do every 5 years for each. Tell me...what\'s your favorite color?\"

\"Red!\" It was out so quick and loud that the men who\'d met with Mr. Colaros laughed, collecting the rest of their papers before they left. Aceline slapped her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide with the shock of her enthusiasm.

\"Ok,\" he laughed. \"Why don\'t we go to one of the stores, and pick out the prettiest red dress there is.\"

She smiled broadly, hopping off the chair, taking his hand and pulling him towards the door, barely giving him time to grab his portfolio and her pictures.

He took her to the biggest, and the most expensive she was sure, ladies boutique in town. The only place he said that knew how to make dresses for little girls. Mr. Colaros sat in a chair near the center of the store. Aceline was dressed in a long white camisole that nearly reached her knees, and was standing on the center pedestal, that was used as a stage to model and make changes to dresses to suite those buying them.

One by one, frilly lace covered red dresses, of all shades, were brought out and shown to her. With Mr. Colaros\' encouragement to pick only the one she really liked, she turned down the ones with all the lace layers and ribbons. One of the girls was looking through a rack of dresses next to Mr. Colaros, when something caught her eye.

She jumped off the pedestal and reached through the layers of clothes, pulling out a swatch of red. \"This one!\" she shouted.

The woman followed the pulled material to the rest of the dress, pulling it off the bar. \"I think that one\'s a bit too big for you Aceline,\" Mr. Colaros laughed, as the clerk pressed the dress to herself to let the two see it.

It was a full-length dress, with straight seams from the shoulders to the bottom hem. The bust of the dress was modestly angled to accent the woman\'s breasts, and had what would look like wide straps, pulled over the shoulders to look like short sleeves. The back was open to about mid chest, with a bow to give the impression that the shoulder wraps held the rest of the dress up, and the skirt got wider as it reached the floor. The whole dress was made of fine satin, and was so deep in red color, it almost looked burgundy. It was the most beautiful dress, she\'d ever seen.

\"I know, but that\'s the one I like. Please? I can\'t use one that I get now, for very long, but that one I can wear when I\'m older, and more often.\"

\"You\'re very practical,\" he said. \"But what if it doesn\'t fit you when you\'re older? I\'d hate for you to be disappointed.\" She turned back to the modeled dress. \"I\'ll tell you what. I\'ll have this style made into a dress you can wear now, though the cut of the bodice will be more respectful for a girl your age. Then, as you grow older, every 5 years I\'ll give you the same dress, till the one you see now, is the one you can wear.\"

\"REALLY!!\"

\"Really.\"

\"Thank you!!\"

After the clerks took her measurements, Mr. Colaros left instructions to keep the pattern of the adult dress in his private account file, where he\'d kept the records of purchases for his wife and his own daughters. Then he told them to make the dress two sizes larger to ensure good use of it for the little girl, and to ship it to him with attention to Aceline, once it was finished. He then took the re-dressed little girl out for lunch. Somehow now, she didn\'t feel pretty in her pants, shirt and jacket, with her riding boots on, once she saw the dress put away. She could hardly wait for the new dress to arrive.

It was when they were finishing their meal on the dining veranda of a small restaurant that here father pulled the loaded wagon to a halt on the street, screaming at her for pestering and imposing on Mr. Colaros. While Montel dragged her away, and practically threw her into the wagon, Mr. Colaros was trying to say he was pleased for her company. \"She\'s not your responsibility, Mr. Colaros!\" he snapped. \"And I\'ll ask you to keep out of how I treat my kid!\" If there was one thing Mr. Colaros never did, it was interfere in how his employees raised their children. He didn\'t like it when people tried it with him and his children, and though he may not have liked the way Montel treated his family, it wasn\'t his place to interfere.

Little Aceline watched his appearance diminish as her father drove the wagon away. She must have looked so small then, all crouched down behind the boxes, trying to hide from her father, but knowing she\'d never succeed. Her thoughts then drifted to the strange man and woman, held up in the tearoom. How he must have loved her to care for her so intently. She then found herself wishing she could hide beneath his long cloak, safe and se, we, well hidden from all dangers.

Montel had beaten her with his belt the moment he got her in their room at the boarding house. She passed out from the treatment, and woke late at night to someone pouring water across her lips. \"Sssshhhh,\" urged Peter\'s gentle voice. \"Dad\'s drunk. If you wake him...\" she nodded in the dim light and took the cup. \"Let me see.\" He pulled her nightshirt over her shoulders, scoffing at the horrible red tracks she was sure marked her skin. \"I\'ll get you cleaned up. You stay close to me from now on. Ok?\" She nodded, and winced quietly as her brother tended her wounds.

Her frightened sad gaze soon found the silhouette of the teahouse across the way, and suddenly all she felt melted away. She couldn\'t say for sure if they were still there, but she found a strange kind of comfort in knowing they could be. All she suddenly wanted then was to be with them. They\'d never treat her like this. They couldn\'t. They were too nice. But as her brother tucked her into bed, and lay down next to her to be there for her, she couldn\'t help but face the simple truth, she didn\'t know a thing about them, and all her wishing wouldn\'t make them pay her any notice. Her brother kissed her head and held her close as she tried to quietly cry herself to sleep.

She woke the next morning to a chill across her feet and the sun shining in her eyes. She sat up to find she was in the wagon once more, her brown cloak her brother brought for her, wrapped around her. She looked around and found either Peter or Patrick fastening the ropes around some of the cargo. \"Where are we?\" she asked, hoping it was Peter.

\"Hey. You slept heavy,\" he said. It was Peter, and instantly she was relieved. \"I couldn\'t wake you. To say the least, I was scared. How do you feel?\"

She tried not to think about the pain still across her back, but she was better than before. She just nodded and repeated her question.

\"The train yard. Dad\'s making arrangements to ship the rented wagon and horses back here when we\'re done. I don\'t know why he doesn\'t just buy them. It\'s not like we can\'t use them at home.\"

\"Peter! Give me a hand over here!\"

\"Coming Patrick. Stay close, ok?\" He didn\'t wait for her answer as he walked away, patting on a box next to her that she knew contained food.

She opened it and took out a sandwich and a small bottle of water. She got out of the wagon to stretch her sore frame and look for a lav. That\'s when she saw them again. The tall man in dark clothes was talking to another man who worked on the train. The woman he was with stood behind him, holding the reins of both horses, keeping them calm in the bustling train yard.

She found herself strolling towards them, weaving her way passed moving people with trolleys, loaded with packages, and avoiding getting run over by a horse, or a horse drawn wagon. By the time she\'d reached where the two had been, they were gone. Leading their horses down the track to be loaded at the end of the train. She felt really disappointed, she\'d hoped to at least say hi to the couple. She was pleased though that the woman was feeling better and was back on her feet. She wondered what had been wrong with her. \"Aceline!\" shouted her father. Quickly she ducked behind some boxes. If her father found her first, he\'d surely beat her again. \"Aceline! Where yoe you!\" he was getting closer. Her heart was beating so fast, he could probably hear it now. Then a coach passed between them, and stopped. An elegantly dressed woman stepped out of the coach, and made her way to the train. As she boarded, she dropped her white shawl, and no one seemed to notice. She quickly dashed over and picked it up, telling the conductor she wanted to return it to the woman. As someone else took his attention from her, she draped the shawl over her head, and boarded the train. Through the threads of the shawl, she saw her father pass her by, without notice. She entered the car and took a seat near another family, hoping to pass as one of their children.

Soon the train was moving, and once the town was well out of sight, she took the shawl off, and carefully folded it. Then made her way through the cars, in search of the elegant lady. She found her three cars up, with a number of other elegantly dressed men and ladies. \"I\'m telling you, if father keeps expanding this train system of his, he\'s got to do something about that yard. I had to walk through tree cars to get here, and worse yet! I lost my favorite shawl. I can\'t find it anywhere. I was sure I was wearing it when I left the coach.\"

She turned as she felt someone tap lightly on her elbow. \"Excuse me miss,\" Aceline began, holding out the carefully folded wrap. \"You\'d dropped this when you got on the train. I held onto it soas no one would take it.\"

The woman took the shawl from her very gently. \"Why thank you. You\'ve no idea what this means to me. What\'s your name?\"

\"Aceline.\"

\"That\'s a pretty name. Would you like to join me for tea, Aceline?\"

\"I\'ve never had tea before.\"

\"Well,\" she exaggerated, handing the shawl to her footman who\'d come with her. \"We ladies must learn early how to drink tea. Come. I\'m Ester, and I\'ll be your teacher.\"

Throughout the stop and go trip, Ester tried to be a good hostess to Aceline, teaching her how to be a lady and all, but how much of that could a five year old really tolerate. She\'d felt guilty that she\'d stowed away on the train, but sense no one asked her where her family was, or if she\'d had a ticket, she found other little ways to pay her fare. Even if they didn\'t know it.

She helped the cook with a few things around the kitchen car. Stacking dishes, washing cups and such, till he\'d playfully chase her out, giving her a cookie for her work. She\'d help the wait staff collect the dishes, and rescue wayward place setting pieces spread around the train by the patrons. They\'d give her a coin, not really worth much, for her efforts. At meal times, she\'d seek out Ester who\'d insisted the little girl dine with her. All through the journey though, she saw no sign of the tall man and his lady. She knew they had to be on the train. She saw their horses loaded. She deduced then that they had to be in the rear car. Staying close to their steeds. That she understood. She couldn\'t get to them. You needed a key to open the door to the rear cars. Oh well. She\'d find them at the end of the journey.

It was early in the morning, some nine days into the trip, when the train lurched to a halt. Everyone was thrown out of their seats, including her, and like everyone else, she got up and looked out the window. It was raining, not very hard, but enough to get you wet. Someone lowered the window, and together they both looked out. Questions of what had happened echoed through the car, and steam from the engine car blew passed them. Then she saw movement at the rear of the train. It was him. She was right. They were on the train, and best yet, he was looking her way. Just as she was about to wave, someone pulled her inside, telling her to move out of his way. She didn\'t argue. Instead, she ran to the back of the car and down to the ground. \"Nightmare, Max. lets go.\" She heard. His voice was deep and soft, even raised like it was. The horses squealed in response and leaped out of the car. She started running, the steam clouding her way at times.

As she neared the baggage car she saw them ride away, the train worker calling after them. \"What am I gona tell the train master!\"

\'They\'re leaving,\' she thought as other train staff rushed by her. \'Not without me!\' and she ran off after them in the rain.