Title: Strangelove

Rating: M

Genre: Drama/Romance

Disclaimer: Tanz Der Vampire and its characters belong to Roman Polanski, Jim Steinman and Michael Kunze. This fanfic is written simply for entertainment and I gain no financial profit by writing this.

Summary: Sequel to "A Deal With the Devil". Alfred's sacrifice to save Sarah takes him down a strange path, potentially questioning everything he knows of the world, the man to whom he has pledged his life, and especially himself. One question rises above all: at the end of this road, is there life or death?

A/N: This was never meant to happen. Originally I meant to leave "A Deal With the Devil" as it was, but after I had finished the piece, it immediately came back to haunt me. The story there seemed very incomplete to me, so I just had to continue to see exactly what would happen to Alfred. This story is what came out of that. "Strangelove" continues immediately after where "A Deal With the Devil" ended.

Originally, this was meant to be a lot darker and I intended for an angst approach, but I guess everything just got out of hand again and the story ended up being a lot different than I had thought it would be. Honestly, not many things about this fic turned out as expected, but I suppose that's just fitting considering my strange relationship to Alfred/Krolock anyway.

As you might already have guessed from the title, a great inspiration for this piece has been Depeche Mode's song Strangelove. Naming this piece was pretty hard actually, so I guess I just went for the easy way with that.

But that's enough on my part. On with the show, and as always, I hope you will enjoy!


Chapter 1

Delivering the tattered cloak of the castle's master to the care of Koukol was not a difficult task, but for obvious reasons, Alfred procrastinated as long as he was able. He was still feeling too confused to be able to face the vampire. After all, there was no telling what would happen once he'd enter the sitting room.

He fought for some sort of peaceful state of mind, but whenever he thought he had succeeded, his memory took him right back to the graveyard and what had happened there; his mouth felt branded now, as though it was only seconds ago that the cool, soft lips of the vampire had parted from his own. It reminded him yet again of his own juvenile dreams and desires of how he had imagined his first kiss, and the actual experience both confused him to the very bottom of his soul and also, strangely enough, angered him.

That wasn't how it was supposed to happen! This wasn't where it should have happened! Well, one could argue that a lot of things weren't going these days like he would have wanted, but still it stung because now, that was always going to be the memory of his first kiss. However, should he go and accuse His Excellency for spoiling his hopes and dreams, the vampire would no doubt just laugh at him, and then laugh some more and mock him for being so ridiculous and inexperienced.

And, another thing was that he'd have liked to know just why the Count had kissed him, but after some moments of contemplation (and blushing rather vigorously), Alfred decided it was purely to mess with his head. Being the manipulative beast he was, Krolock probably enjoyed it greatly when he could play with Alfred like that; he was like a cat toying with a mouse before killing its prey. The best way around it was to act as if he didn't care one bit.

With one final deep breath, Alfred decided he could do it. He could face the vampire. He'd beat the Count in his own game and show that he wasn't quite as meek as the master of the castle thought him. He'd make it clear that the vampire couldn't mess with his head and that in order to break him, the undead aristocrat would have to come up with something else. Yes, that was what he would do.

He stepped in to the sitting room and quickly glanced about. He immediately noticed Herbert wasn't there, which unnerved him: he had counted Krolock wouldn't do... improper things with his son around. Then again, they were vampires. They likely had not the slightest idea of what was proper and after all, the Count did consider Alfred as his property and thus probably regarded it his right to do with him whatever he wanted. Then the young man realized how utterly mad it was. From all the people in world, he was counting on Herbert to shelter him from unwanted attention from the viscount's own father.

His earlier resolve to act completely calm and collected wasn't lasting. One sharp stare from Krolock made him feel just as uncomfortable as ever, and he could feel the blush spreading over his face all over again.

"Well? Where were you dawdling, Alfred? Did I not tell you to join me after taking care of my cloak?" the Count asked, sounding so very Krolock that the human had a brief desire to punch him.

"And that was exactly what I was doing", he muttered.

"Goodness, Alfred. Thank the devil you're not my servant. One would never have anything done here if you were", Krolock snorted.

"Heavens forbid that", the human said under his breath and was about to sit down when the vampire shot another sharp glance at him.

"While you're at it, do you mind adding some wood to the fire?" he inquired, sounding suddenly very amiable. Alfred made a face.

"Of course I don't mind, Your Excellency", he answered rather cheekily. Alfred felt he was pushing his luck, but his answer only made the corners of the Count's mouth slightly lift. He didn't know which was worst: the fact that the vampire was so entertained by confusing him, or that even his anger seemed to be merely funny to the infuriating master of the castle.

Fuming silently, Alfred walked over by the fireplace and knelt down to feed the fire. The flames chased away the chill of the graveyard. He had been so occupied with his confused thoughts that he hadn't even realized he was so cold. As soon has he had added couple of logs into the fire, he sought a comfortable position near the fireplace and reached his hands out, warming them by merry flames.

As he was sitting there, he eventually turned his head so that he could see the Count, who was reading quietly on his usual place by the fire. The pale face betrayed only deep concentration, and Alfred mused the vampire didn't even notice that he was watching. Silently, he tried to find something sympathetic about that face, or maybe some sign of what dark plan the vampire had in store for him. He supposed it was a good-looking face, elegant even, but also a bit scary. It definitely fit the picture when one imagined "undead aristocrat".

"Why are you staring?" Krolock asked after a while, not lifting his gaze. Alfred blushed and quickly looked away.

"I didn't stare!" he argued sharply, but his answer only made the vampire scoff.

"It is quite useless to deny facts I can easily observe, Alfred. Nor would I recommed lying. If you do, I'll just read your mind, and I'm sure you don't like it when I do that", the Count said absentmindedly and turned a page.

The human lowered his gaze and turned again towards the fire. After some time, he glanced at the vampire again.

"What is it? You want to ask something?" Krolock inquired and closed his book, his face just a bit curious.

"I... I was wondering that... well, might you consider letting me go home some time?" Alfred finally asked. His question made the vampire roll his eyes.

"Alfred, did I ever say that you are explicitly forbidden from leaving? You can leave any time you wish, if you are willing to bear the consequences... which we have discussed before, as you remember", Krolock said, sounding very patient as if he were talking to a very slow-minded child. "We made a deal, Alfred, and I can be fair about it. I'm giving you the choice to back off if you wish to do so. In other words, I am not keeping you here. You are doing it yourself just fine."

Alfred stared at the Count, trying so hard to see through those clear blue eyes, but yet again realized he could not. A lump had formed in his throat and he bit his lip. Freedom was there just at his grasp... but the cost was one human life.

"Please. Just... let me go... and let her be", he whispered.

"No", Krolock answered, leaning back in his chair. There was a hard glint in his eyes now. "It wouldn't be a very good deal if I didn't get anything out of it, would it?"

"Please! Why can't you just let us be?" the human asked, raising his voice.

"Because", the vampire simply said, and he had never looked quite as cruel or terrifying as he did then. Alfred, however, barely noticed. He was about to speak, but the Count was faster, "Don't glare at me like that. I didn't make you come here. It was your own choice to come looking for trouble. Or your Professor's, but you still chose to follow him. This is my territory, and like any master of the house, I am entitled to run it as I see fit. And now that you're here, you are going to have to play by my rules."

"Have you no mercy? No pity at all?" Alfred asked. His voice was cracking and he knew that any moment now, he would cry.

"Pity?" Krolock laughed. "What do you take me for, silly boy? If that was what you were hoping for when you made your offer, you're going to find yourself very disappointed indeed! When are you going to learn that I am all the evil things your mother warned you about?"

The vampire laughed again and rose on his feet, towering over Alfred like some demon from nightmares.

"If you crave for freedom so much, then leave. I'm not going to stop you. But know that I am going for her, and I will find her, even if you take her with you. And I am going to kill her, like I always intended. There's nothing you can do about it, except stay and surrender your fate into my hands."

Alfred shot up on his feet, and his agony gave him swiftness and strength he had not known to possess. In a desperate bout of anger and grief he slammed his fist against the Count's cheek.

"Monster! I hate you! I HATE YOU!" he screamed as his tormentor stumbled back. Then, tears blinding his eyes, he ran out.


As Alfred ran, he fully expected a strong hand to grab him any second and hold him down as a pair of fangs sunk in his neck. He knew he had only succeeded in his attack because the Count hadn't expected it, but now the vampire would surely come, furious and horrifying, and end his life... And then Krolock would go to Sarah too and make her suffer for what Alfred had done in unthinking anger.

But as he reached his chamber's door, ran in and finally fell down on the wide bed, the vampire never appeared. There was not that fearsome snarling sound, no cold hands forcing his head aside... What held Krolock's hand that night, Alfred didn't know.

As a matter of fact, he didn't even care. He wouldn't have minded if the Count had indeed killed him. Actually, he might have considered it a great kindness. He even lifted his head and searched his surroundings with blurry eyes, trying to find anything that he could have used to take his own life – just to escape this prison that was his own mind rather than any stone walls – but then realized he wouldn't even manage that.

No matter what, no matter how desperate his situation, Alfred wasn't one to take his own life.

This thought made him crash down sobbing again, and he curled up in a ball as if the amount of pain would then somehow be reduced.

He had been an idiot to think this could somehow work, that there was anything good and merciful about Krolock. He was going to die here, either as a madman driven crazy by the Count's games, or due to the vampire's whim for no other reason that it happened to entertain his captor.

Alfred cried, for himself, for Sarah – for the cruel fate that had brought him into this awful, awful place.


It was dark when he woke up. Dull ache throbbed in his head and his face was sticky with the long dry tears. He felt still so very exhausted and weak that the mere effort of taking off his clothes felt impossibly difficult, but after a bit of struggle he was able to get rid of his garments.

Alfred crawled back into his bed, drew the covers over himself and fell back into dark dreams where he was endlessly running from the pale, horrifying face of a vengeful vampire.


He didn't feel any better when he came around the next time. As a matter of fact, he was feeling worse. His headache had only gotten more intense and his throat felt painfully sore.

Alfred did manage to rise up to pour some water for himself, and in his dry mouth, it felt so wonderful he barely even noticed the stale taste. Apparently he hadn't remembered to bring any fresh water into his chamber. He'd have to do that later when he was feeling better...

After consuming several cups of water, he climbed back to bed, feeling so very tired again. Very briefly before his consciousness left again he wondered why the Count hadn't killed him already.


A touch woke Alfred up from his feverish dreams. At first, he didn't understand what it was: it felt a bit like a block of ice against his hot forehead – only, blocks of ice didn't move on their own. Then he realized it had to be a vampire's hand, as only the undead had such a cool touch. Right now it felt heavenly.

Unintelligible sound escaped his mouth and he saw a pale face hover above him. A hand slid across his forehead, as if the owner of that limb was drawing it back, but he grabbed it and pressed it against his burning skin again. It was the most pleasant feeling ever since... well, he couldn't even remember. How long had he slept?

"Alfred", a voice called him, but the only sound he managed was a faint groan.

Voices spoke over him, but he wasn't interested in trying to understand them, so he just lay there, clutching the hand over his face. After some time the pale figure appeared over him again.

"Alfred, I need my hand. May I have it for a moment?" a low, familiar voice asked and the owner of the cool hand gave it a small tug. Mumbling reluctantly Alfred let go. Someone grabbed his chin and forced his mouth open. "This will make you feel better."

Alfred wasn't really in the condition to argue even if he had wanted to, so he just let them do what they will. Something that tasted quite disgusting was spooned into his mouth and he wanted to spit it out, but a hand was placed over his mouth then, forcing him to keep the thick liquid inside.

"Swallow it. It will help you. That is good. Now, sleep", a soft voice whispered. The gloriously cold hand was again on his forehead and he could already feel his headache fading.

Alfred fell asleep.


At some point, he became aware of the fact that he was awake again. After his strange fever dreams, the borders between dream and reality seemed somehow dim. He was staring at a small flame on the top of an almost finished candle, and he had no idea of how much time had passed ever since he had been awake for the last time.

At least he was feeling slightly better now. Fever seemed to have given in for the most parts, and even his throat wasn't so sore anymore.

Sighing, Alfred stretched and thought about how nice a cup of tea would have been, but he didn't feel like leaving his bed. The idea of walking through the chilly corridors made him shiver, and there was a chance he would have come across the Count. Alfred wasn't sure he was ready to confront the man yet. So he rose up to find a pitcher so that he could pour some water - it appeared someone had refilled it while he had been sleeping. After drinking couple of cups he turned and his gaze fell on a shape sitting on an armchair beside his bed.

There was enough light for Alfred to recognize the shape: it was none other than the master of the castle. What he was doing there, the human didn't know.

He had seen a sleeping vampire (well, two of them, to be accurate) only once before – when him and the Professor had broken into the crypt. He remembered how calm and motionless the vampires had seemed in their resting places, and that was exactly how Krolock looked now. He sat stiff and unmoving, hands folded in his lap, eyes closed, and his face had no expression except for something like... peace. He looked like a statue... or like someone who had died calmly in their sleep.

Also, he was utterly helpless and vulnerable. Alfred could now take his life, as if that one chance he had had and lost in the crypt was offered to him once again.

For a moment, he searched his surroundings with his gaze, trying to find anything that could be used to slay the vampire. But then, after a moment of wondering if he could break a chair and use its leg as a stake, his eyes were drawn back to the Count again. He tried to imagine how it would be to drive a stake through that ice-cold heart and see the fine features and silky hair crumble down into dust, just like that vampire back in the graveyard. Somehow, in that vision, the Count was awake and just before he turned into ashes, his brilliant blue eyes would stare at Alfred and there would be such intense disbelief and betrayal in them...

It would have been so easy... yet it was so hard.

No matter what this man, this creature, did to him, Alfred couldn't take his... life (if that was the correct word for what vampires had). He wasn't a killer, not like Krolock was. He was just an ordinary man, caught in impossible situation... But he couldn't be what he wasn't. As pathetic as that was, Alfred couldn't kill a vampire.

And even if he did, what good would it do to him? He might be a winner for a moment, but that victory would soon grow cold... Herbert would leave no stone unturned to find him and avenge the death of the Count. That wasn't a road Alfred was willing to take.

With a sigh, he fell back on the bed again and closed his eyes. He was trapped, just as he had been before. And he had been utterly foolish to think that pleading and begging could somehow change the vampire's mind. Krolock had probably listened to countless pleas during his existence, and Alfred's hadn't been any different. Even his anger was useless.

But then... there had to be something the Count wanted badly enough to let Alfred go... he just had to figure out what that was.