The rain continued to pour as Isabelle and Marty stood in the grand foyer of the Ellsworth Family Manor. The heavy droplets pelting against the windows echoed through the spacious, dimly lit hall. Despite the manor's age and the musty smell that filled the air, there was an undeniable elegance about the place—a sense of history and magnificence that had survived the passage of time.

"Well," Marty said, breaking the silence as he ran a hand through his damp hair, "I guess we should look around, see what we're dealing with."

Isabelle nodded, though her mind was still clouded with thoughts of Doc. She pushed them aside for the moment, focusing instead on the task. "Yeah, let's see what's here."

They began to explore the manor, walking through the hallways and peering into each room. The first door they opened revealed an extensive, wealthy library. The walls were lined with towering bookshelves filled with dusty old leather-bound books. Though it hadn't seen a fire in decades, a massive fireplace dominated one wall. The room had an air of wisdom as if it held secrets from the ages.

"This place is incredible," Marty murmured, his eyes wide as he looked around. "It's like something out of a movie."

They continued exploring, finding a grand dining room with an intricately carved wooden table large enough to seat a dozen people. The kitchen was old-fashioned, with a large stove and a farmhouse sink, but it was functional, and the cupboards were surprisingly well-stocked with canned goods and preserves.

The manor had six bedrooms in total, each with its own bathroom. Despite the need for some repairs—peeling wallpaper here, a cracked window there—the rooms were luxurious, with plush carpets, elegant furniture, and large, inviting beds.

Marty peeked into one of the guest rooms and whistled softly. "Man, this place is fancy. I can't believe it's been sitting here all this time."

Isabelle nodded though her thoughts were elsewhere. As they continued exploring, she couldn't shake the feeling that this manor, which belonged to her family, held more than just old furniture and dusty books. It connected to a past she barely knew that now seemed more important than ever.

Finally, they reached the master bedroom. It was the largest room in the house, with a massive four-poster bed draped in velvet curtains. The room had its own bathroom, complete with a clawfoot tub and a vanity that looked like it belonged in a museum. Isabelle stood in the doorway for a moment, taking it all in.

"I think I'll take this room," she said quietly.

Marty nodded in agreement. "Makes sense. It's your family's place, after all."

He chose one of the guest rooms for himself, a cozy room with a comfortable-looking bed and a small but functional bathroom. They both decided to take showers, needing to warm up after the cold, damp night they had endured.

As Isabelle stepped into the master bathroom and turned on the water, she found herself momentarily distracted by the luxury of it all. The water was warm, and the tiles were smooth under her feet. She let the heat soak into her bones, easing the tension that had built up over the past few hours.

When she finished, she found a closet filled with clothes that looked like they belonged to the 1950s. She chose a silky floral nightgown, the fabric soft and cool against her skin. It fit her perfectly as if it had been waiting for her all along.

Marty, too, found clothes in his closet—comfortable pajamas that suited the era. Once they were both changed, they met in the hallway, looking more like they belonged in this period than they had just hours ago.

"Guess we should get some sleep," Marty said, though his voice lacked its usual energy. The night's events had also taken their toll on him.

"Yeah," Isabelle replied, her voice equally subdued. "We'll figure out what to do in the morning."

They wished each other good night and retreated to their respective rooms. Exhausted from the night's stress, Marty fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. The bed was comfortable, and despite everything, he found peace in the quiet, old manor.

Isabelle, however, struggled to sleep. She lay in the large bed, staring at the ceiling as her thoughts spiraled. Doc was gone—her Doc, the one who had become like family to her. She had lost him in the blink of an eye, and the pain of that loss was almost too much to bear. Even though she knew that Doc was alive somewhere at this time, it wasn't the same. It wasn't her Doc.

Tears welled up in her eyes as the reality of her situation hit her. She was stuck in a time she didn't belong to, in a place she barely knew, with the only family she had ever known lying lifeless in the future. The weight of it all pressed down on her, and she hugged her pillow tightly, trying to find comfort in the soft fabric.

But there was no comfort to be found. The tears began to flow, silent and unstoppable, as she cried herself to sleep, the sound of the rain outside the only accompaniment to her grief.

As the night wore on, Isabelle's mind was filled with questions. What would happen to her and Marty in this strange time? How would they ever get back? And most of all, how could she go on without the man who had been like a father to her?

Eventually, exhaustion overtook her, and she drifted into a restless sleep, her dreams haunted by the image of Doc's final moments.

The rain continued to pour down over Hill Valley, drumming steadily against the roof of the Tannen Manor, a large, imposing house set apart from the rest of the town. The manor was dark and empty, except for the dim glow from a single bedroom window on the second floor. Inside, 18-year-old Buford "Biff" Howard Tannen lay on his bed, staring at the rain-slicked world beyond.

The room was sparsely decorated, with only the essentials: a bed, a dresser, and a few scattered trophies from boxing and wrestling—a testament to Biff's physical strength, the only thing he felt truly defined him. He sighed heavily, his chest rising and falling as he gazed out the window. The rain had always been a strange comfort to him, a rare sound that filled the silence in a home almost always empty.

As usual, his parents were away on business, leaving him to fend for himself in the manor that felt more like a cage than a home. The quietness of the house only amplified the emptiness he felt inside—a void he could never fill, no matter how much he pushed people around or put on a tough exterior.

Biff had spent most of his life building up his reputation as the town bully, terrorizing his classmates, taking what he wanted, and making sure everyone knew not to mess with him. It was easier that way, he told himself. Better to be feared than to be seen for what he really was: lonely, depressed, and weak. If he kept up the tough-guy act, no one would ever suspect that he sought out trouble simply because it was the only way he knew to get attention.

He had a couple of guys who hung around him, like Match and 3-D, but he knew deep down that they weren't real friends. They stuck by him because of his wealth and their fear of what he might do if they didn't. The only person he considered a true friend was his cousin, Joey "Skinhead" Tannen, but even that relationship was strained at best. Joey had his own problems, and Biff often felt like he was just another burden.

As he lay there, he couldn't help but think about Lorraine Baines. She was the prettiest girl in school, with her bright eyes and that sweet smile. Biff had been crushing on her since their first year, but he never dared to say anything. What would be the point? She was popular, and every guy wanted her, from the jocks to even the town's biggest geek, George McFly. Biff scowled at the thought of George, that weirdo always staring at Lorraine like she was some angel. What chance would a guy like Biff have against that?

He turned to the window, watching the raindrops streak down the glass. He wanted to confess to her, to tell Lorraine how he felt. But the fear of rejection gripped him. What if she laughed at him? What if she turned him down in front of the whole school? Biff could take a punch, but he didn't think he could take that.

Closing his eyes, Biff tried to push the thoughts away. He needed to sleep; maybe he could find some peace in his dreams. His mind drifted, and slowly, he began to dream.

The rain faded away, and Biff stood under a clear, starry sky in a field. In the distance, he saw her—a girl he had never seen before. She wasn't Lorraine; she was different but just as beautiful. She had long, straight brown hair that cascaded down her back and sapphire blue eyes that seemed to sparkle in the moonlight. Her presence took his breath away. She was serene, standing there like an ethereal vision.

Biff took a step toward her, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to speak, to ask her who she was, but the words caught in his throat. She turned to him, a soft smile on her lips, and his entire body seemed to relax at the sight. There was something about her—something familiar yet completely foreign. He couldn't explain it, but he felt drawn to her like she was a piece of a puzzle he hadn't even realized was missing.

The girl raised a hand as if to beckon him closer, and for a moment, Biff felt a warmth he hadn't felt in years. It wasn't just an attraction—something deeper, something he didn't have a name for. It was like this girl saw through his tough facade and understood the real him, the one he kept hidden from everyone.

"Who are you?" he whispered, his voice breaking the stillness of the dream. But before he could get an answer, the dream began to fade, the girl's image blurring until it vanished altogether. The stars winked out one by one, and Biff felt himself falling back into reality's cold, empty darkness.

His eyes snapped open, and he was back in his bedroom, the rain still drumming against the window. His heart was racing, and he could still see the girl's sapphire blue eyes in his mind. Who was she? Was she real, or just some figment of his imagination? He didn't know, but for the first time in a long while, he felt a sliver of hope, a flicker of something different, something good.

He stared out at the rain again, wondering if he would ever see that girl—the girl who had appeared in his dreams and made him feel something other than anger or emptiness. As he lay there, listening to the rhythm of the rain, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something that might finally change his life.