Heathcliff watches the retreating figure of Doctor Lazarus for a moment, before taking his leave of the place without further delay. Though the insidious aura of fear had dissipated along with Bridgewater's spirit, Heathcliff was anxious to put this place behind him. For a while, anyway. This new world required so many compromises...

As the gates are opened and his blue sedan makes its near silent escape from Amber Hill, Heathcliff can't help his mind from wandering...how he stood by as the boy that was made to serve the Doctor...walking away, knowing that someone there would die for expedience's sake...the sick thrill he felt, taking Melody's blood in her distress...the things Bridgewater had showed him...the growing apathy he had felt toward his own work, even before he was changed...

...and, in a moment of terrible insight, Heathcliff understands just how similar he and Lazarus are, and that for every night of his Requiem, that gap will slowly close...and this is the true horror.